undergrounds | Tell me that I'll figure it out...

Rorschach was out and about in the city. He wandered with his hands in his pockets, lost in his own thoughts. There wasn't much else to do when he was dead. The hunters of Hillingdon were too soft. This city was going to hell and they just stood back and watched. People who didn't get out of his path were just walked through, causing most of the people to shiver at the cold spot that they'd suddenly passed through.

Then he ran into someone who didn't just let him pass on by. Ghoul said something he didn't quite catch and it took him a moment to realize that the words were actually directed at him, that he was being looked at instead of right through. He hadn't been expecting the person to actually react. "...you can see me?" the ghost rasped out in an amazed tone, the blots of his mask reacting by forming a splatter pattern that ran up his face on both sides.

Cooper lay curled up on his side, Nancy in his arms. He had the rare occurrence of a cigarette in his mouth. He'd never really had much of a nicotine habit to begin with, but it did make for a lovely looking post-coital picture. He twirled a bit of her hair around his finger.

"I needed this. The stress of the job is gonna actually age me. I'm gonna wake up with grey hairs." If only it actually worked that way. Cooper didn't really mind how much time the Nest and Night Council took up. "It does feel like we're finally accomplishin' something." Whether that something was good or bad could be left up to interpretation.

Cooper finally had an office. Tired of every vampire in the world showing up on his doorstep, he'd taken over a rather large space at Night Council headquarters. This still hadn't prevented vampires and their human allies from turning up at his apartment at all hours of the day and night, but at least now he looked presentable. Which, in a way, pretty much spoke volumes about Cooper's personality in general.

The place had a desk with a high-set chair in front of a large window that ran floor to ceiling. There was dark drapes on either side, a squashy chair in front of the desk, and a couch on the other side of the room. There was also a filing cabinet he'd had a few charms and hexes put on. No one could open it but him and he had filled it with various paperwork on the denizens he was keeping up with. The entire place was a relaxed atmosphere, but at least he'd been talked out of putting pictures of motorcycles on the walls.

At present time, he was sitting back in his chair, going over some complaints that several human allies had presented. They were concerned with harassment from members of the East End Pack. Work never ceased for the teenage vampire, but hey, he'd sleep when he was dead. A knock on the door made him look up, glad for a distraction. "State your name, rank, 'n then enter!"

Cooper was leaving his office and hopping onto his motorcycle when his cell phone rang. The number didn't look familiar, but on the off-chance it was a vampire in need, he picked it up. "Dia dhuit," he answered. The voice on the other end said about four words that caused Cooper's face to go even whiter under his already pale hue.

"Can't I--" Nope. "But--" Nope. He was not getting out of this. He sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched the spot at the top of his nose. When he reopened his eyes, his face was set. "Fine. Where do you want to meet?" Getting an answer, he hung up, and hopped on his motorcycle. His mood now much more serious, he tore off down the street into the sunset.

Nancy's hair spilled out over pillow, her head on Cooper's chest. She'd tucked her knees up as close to him as she could, a desperate bid to get as close to him as she could. To be in his arms and safe.

She scrunched her nose up when she laughed. "Yeah?" They didn't talk much about work. She knew that was the last thing he wanted to talk about when he came home, so instead usually they talked about her day, how great it was counting mufflers for the umpteenth time. But a recent talk with Eames was pulling at her insides. He'd said Cooper sided with Samantha. But that wasn't something he'd have done, right? He totally understood her dislike of Samantha and the way she'd spoken to her. And her issues with the idea of making deals and generally fucking about with the fae.

That meant something, right?

Shit this wasn't something they should be talking about. Not at all, not here, when they were both relaxed and happy together. But he'd brought work up. She hadn't been the one to start the conversation. But she had to know. And, at least, explain herself.

Nancy gestured for him to pass the cigarette.

He passed the cigarette over to her after taking one last long drag. "The last issue that came up has caused a lot of ripples. It's affected everyone 'n everything." He hadn't told Nancy about how he'd voted on the issue. It wasn't that he'd outright lied, exactly, he'd just failed to tell her anything at all about the vote.

The last month had been difficult. He'd gotten tied up trying to balance out both sides of his job. As Marquess, he had to keep the best interests of the Nest in mind. But being on the Night Council meant he couldn't just throw his weight around and make things rosy for the vampire clan. Every action had a consequence. If he pushed too hard, the whole supernatural community could start to crumble.

He idly combed his hand through Nancy's hair, occasionally gently pulling out a knot that had formed through the red locks. "It's a balancing act. Like bein' on a tight wire at the circus. Only I don't have a net beneath me. I'm just waiting t'fall off and break my neck." She's the only one he'd trust with these words. Anyone else would see it as weakness that could be used against him.

Cooper was lounging around at home in a now-rare moment of downtime. No one was turning to him for help or answers. Normally, he'd go out on his motorcycle on a ride on a day like today, but he felt the need to decompress in a different way. He was watching some mindless Netflix, a show about romance and sickening true love Nancy enjoyed that he could leave on in the background while he fell asleep on the couch.

He was awoken by the sound of a knock. Well, that relaxation period had been cruelly brief. Maybe it was just Nancy, who had forgotten her wallet before going off to work. He peered out the peephole at who it was. There was a familiar short figure standing there with immaculate clothes and hair.

He opened up the door, his lips pressed in a thin line. "What are you doing here, teallaire?" He was counting on such a refined little vampire as Joss having never learned a language as coarse as the Irish Gaelic the farmers of Cooper's youth had used. Otherwise, he had already insulted the older vampire before he'd even gotten two words out.

Even if he has no idea what the word means, Joscelin has been insulted so many times he's gotten pretty good at using context clues to figure out when he's being insulted.

He also doesn't really care. He's probably been called worse.

So he just glares up at Cooper. "Pleasure to see you too. I owe you a window."

He's not sure if he prefers the little nuisance back to his old self as opposed to the terrified pre-teen he'd been. Both had been equally annoying in different ways. "Already fixed. Also had t'fix the door too, in case you were wondering. Now this has been a thrilling chat, but I have to go back to falling asleep in front of The Lady Who Waited Forever now."

While Cooper generally had an attitude, it was exacerbated this time by the knowledge he'd screwed up. He'd had a member of the Nest who needed help, and instead of taking care of a major and dangerous problem, he'd let him slip away. All because he'd chosen the safety of his girlfriend over the potential victims that could have befallen the fangs of a amnesiac child vampire.

There's a nice little restaurant run by a meta in Enfield, it's as close to neutral territory as it gets for either of them.

He's took the liberty of getting a table near the back, where the paranoid sort can see most of the establishment and most of the establishment can't see them. And he's also kindly bought a bottle of scotch for the table, already nursing a glass while he waits for Cooper to show.

Ghoul rolls his eyes at the question. "I'm lookin' at you and talkin' to you, ain't I?" Which he has to do very carefully, by the way, because he doesn't want other people looking at him like he's a lunatic.

"You don't like it when I stick my parts through you, but now you're gonna float through me 'cause you think you can get away with it?" he hisses quietly, because he remembers- sort of, mostly. Remembers chasing after a grumpy paint-faced ghost during the full moon a while back. How many of those could there possibly be around here? This has to be the same one... And to demonstrate how incredibly rude it is to ghost people out of nowhere, Ghoul extends an arm and swipes it through Rorschach's torso.

...Maybe a couple times. Just to make sure he gets the point.

She plucks the cigarette from his hands, taking a slow drag herself. Lipstick colors the filter.

When she exhales, she leans up and plants a soft kiss on Cooper's forehead. "If you fall, I'm here to catch you," she promises him. It often feels like there isn't much she can do for him. She's just a human, a witch, sure, but she's still human. She's twenty, and all of this is so big. Last year, she'd never thought she'd be in this position.

Honestly, any politicians she wound up in bed with were always paying.

Nancy takes another drag on the cigarette, then hands it back to Cooper.

"The last issue." She knows what it was. But now she needs to know how he voted. Why he voted that way, if what Eames said was true. "Thank you, by the way, for not siding with that awful woman." Please don't tell her she's wrong, Nancy hopes against hope.

The benefits of having an office are that instead of having every vampire in the world showing up at your place of residence, they now instead have a work address to bother you at. Jean-Claude knows this all too well. He is usually the one they are visiting, as a matter of fact. This change of pace is really quite refreshing.

"Is such a level of formality really so necessary, mon ami?" he calls from the other side of the door. It is true, he has not exactly called ahead and made an appointment. But announcing, 'It is I, Jean-Claude, your Duke' feels a bit over the top even for a man prone to theatrics as he is himself when there is but an audience of one.

Joscelin reaches out, rather forcefully grabs Cooper's hand, and stuffs a stack of crisp, new £20 notes into it. He has no idea what repairing a window actually costs, but £300 ought to cover it, right? "There. For your pains. And this is for Nancy." He's also carrying a shopping bag; he shoves it at Cooper. Inside are the clothes she'd given him. They've been cleaned and pressed, rips and tears magically repaired.

"We're even now." It sounds surprisingly like a threat.

"Most people can't." Rorschach had just gotten used to going through people because they never noticed him anyway. Which meant that this kid (and with how old Rorschach was, everyone was a kid to him these days) had to be supernatural in some respect. He stands there, arms folded, decidedly unimpressed as Ghoul swipes his arm through his body. Really? Was that necessary?

"Do I know you?" There was something oddly familiar about the kid with the attitude. He would have remembered if he'd met him before. There was so few people that could actually interact with him that he would have taken note of Ghoul before now.

He can sense the love and trust radiating off of her even without his powers. She was his lifeline, something he could turn to when everything seemed to be falling out from underneath his feet. He'd wanted power for so long, and now that he had it, he was afraid he was going to lose it all.

He shifts a bit uncomfortably around when Nancy talks about the vote. Oh dear. Here it came. "Um, well, about that..." His face said it all. Cooper had sided with Samantha on the vote for summoning magic. It had come down to his vote to make it go one way or the other. He'd had the ability to influence things and he'd done so, for better or for worse.

The unmistakable French accent makes Cooper sit back in his chair. "Oh, it's you. C'mon in." He couldn't very well turn the head of the Nest away. And it gave him an excuse to put off the drudgery of paperwork for a little while.

"Come and sit. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?" Jean-Claude may notice that Cooper's chair is set up a little higher than the other one across from his desk. He's always been a little touchy about the subject of his height, so this was a way to make sure he was on equal footing with whoever he was talking to.

Cooper parks his motorcycle in front of the restaurant, taking off his goggles, and hanging them on the handlebars. He really wasn't looking forward to this meeting, but he supposed it was inevitable. Squaring his shoulders, he goes in. There's Eames, in the back, looking immaculate and put together as always. In contrast, Cooper looks like he just got back after spending a few days with a motorcycle gang.

He sits down and has a glass of scotch before he even says a word. "Alright, I'm here. So let's talk."

Well. Fair enough, but still. He can't just go blasting through people, Jesus. Maybe they can't see him, but surely they can feel that cold tingly shit.

It feels really weird and even uncomfortable, which is the only thing that prevents Ghoul from continuing to jab through Rorschach's manifestation. He pulls his arm away, sticking it inside his hoodie pocket along with his other hand as he clears his throat. "No." They don't know each other. "Not really." But they've met. Technically.

Ghoul's nose wrinkles and he eventually adds, "Never been like, formally introduced or nothin'. Seen you around before, though."

He sets the bag down just inside the entryway, not letting go of the money. Cooper folds his arms and draws himself up to his full height. Usually that doesn't do a whole lot considering there aren't many people who are shorter than five-foot six, but in this case, it makes a difference. "Isn't that typical? You think if you throw enough money at something, it'll make the problem go away."

He tosses the money back at Joss. "Feck your money," he says, his accent butchering the first word. "I don't need it."

Oh. Fuck.

Nancy tenses in his arms, sitting up slightly in bed. "You've got to be kidding me." She turns to look at him, her brow furrowed, lips pursed. She'd told Eames with certainty that there was no way he'd voted for Samantha's proposal.

And it turned out she was dead wrong.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, hunching herself forward a little. "I'm sorry- I don't understand." Why would he do that?

This is as close as Joscelin ever gets to apologizing. He's not used to having it thrown back in his face.

"It's not a fucking payoff!" He glares up at Cooper. "I'm clearing a debt. Wipe your ass with it, if that's what you want; I've no power to tell you what to do. Nor do I particularly care." Cooper makes him so angry and he's not entirely sure why. Maybe it's because he sees himself reflected in the other vampire in ways he's not particularly comfortable with. There aren't many vampires physically under eighteen left in the Nest; most had been of Joscelin's own creation and had been purged along with him. Cooper is one of only a handful of others.

And that makes them too much alike to ever be friends.

Edited 2017-04-23 04:00 (UTC)

"For someone who's been around six hundred years, you still know jackshit about how t'deal with people." He looks at Joss and wonders if that's what is going to happen to him. If he reaches that age, with everyone mortal he knows now long dead and gone, will he be just as jaded and cynical? He'd like to think not, but he never could have predicted how his personality had morphed from the carefree young lad who'd died in the Rebellion into what he is today.

"If you really didn't care, you wouldn't have come. Why are you here, Joss?" He's sensing the other's emotions, but all he can sense is the anger bubbling on the surface.

Well, there went the rosy afterglow. He was the one who had brought the subject up, so he had no one to blame for where the conversation had gone but himself. He plucks the cigarette from her slim hand, taking a drag on it before he answers her.

"I had t'vote with what I thought was best. The fae are a problem that's unpredictable. It's something that needed t'be dealt with." This is something he's let no one see before. During the campaign, part of his strategy had been to be seen as being open to all supernatural types. But, in truth, Cooper had a long-seated prejudice against the fae. Besides his personal history, including his addiction, he saw the way they put themselves above all other races. They were not to be trusted.

Manners are something that Rorschach didn't have even when he was alive. That sure wasn't going to change with him being dead. He looks Ghoul over, and while they both hover right around the same height, the ex-hunter seems bigger with his dark and intimidating presence.

His eyes, despite being behind the mask, burn into Ghoul's. "You a hunter?" That was the most likely place he's been seen. Rorschach calls Hillingdon House home most of the time.

Tell me that I'll figure it out...

For Ghoul - You Look Familiar...

For Nancy - The Best Place for Political Conversations.

For JC - I Totally (do not) Know What I'm Doing

For Eames - Someone's In Trouble

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For Joss - Let's Act Like Professionals. Professional Children.

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