[ Being in Japan for the foreseeable future, he picks up little jobs here and there where he can. It's difficult for him to sit still, always feeling like he could be doing something. He'd chalk it up to nerves, but he hasn't had a case of those in years. Instead, he just likes the thrill of working on cases, on piecing together difficult puzzles.
So, while he has his orders to keep an eye on the main mission prerogative and to obtain information on BK201, he's also been assisting the Japanese police in their work. From small cases all the way on up– though to keep any possible conflict of interest out of the way, he's gone in as an anonymous tip off. This time, he's here to meet someone as a full informant. It's hard for someone as blonde and blue eyed as him to hide, so he does what he can. A pair of fake reading glasses, a completely different outfit, and a little makeup changes his face just enough.
In a way, it's kind of amusing. He hasn't had to go undercover like this in a while. Carefully, he sips his coffee while slouched at a cafe table. The appointed meeting place. Across from him, the chair is empty, but the table also bears a copy of Catcher In The Rye, the signifier to whoever is supposed to meet him here. They weren't exactly forthright on who they would send, so he's stuck waiting and trying not to be too obvious he's watching everyone. ]
[Misaki hated assignments like this. There were so many other things she should be doing, instead, she was heading to a cafe. It was easy to remember that information gathering took many forms. However, she was going in with no clue who she was meeting, or what they were even offering to get this much effort.
Then again, the last time she met an informant in private, she ended up wearing more of his blood than she wanted and nearly died herself later that night.
It felt strange to be out of uniform on the clock, but even she knew better than to show up looking like a cop. Even if the informant didn't freak out, every eye in the place would be on them which wouldn't do much good.
As soon as she entered the cafe, Misaki started looking for anyone sitting alone. The cafe was busy so it was easy to spot the man, the book sitting out on the table her sign. Misaki walked over to the table as if looking for a place to sit.]
[ Because she's changed out of her usual businesslike clothing, he almost doesn't recognize her. But there's something in the way she carries herself that makes it easy to spot her in a crowd– it's in the set of her shoulders. The sheer determination that seems to radiate off of her whole being.
Although it doesn't show on his face, he is somewhat surprised to see her here. It was always a possibility, since the precinct could've sent whomever they thought was right for the job. And if there's anyone he'd trust to keep their mouth shut about secret handoffs, it's Misaki. He's never known a more honest cop. ]
No, please. [ November gestures to the empty seat, reining in any familiarity. Someone could be watching. ] Are you a fan of Salinger's work?
[She takes the seat and quickly takes a sip of her drink trying to brush away an annoying inkling that she knows who he is. Of course, she should know better than to ignore her gut on something like this. But then, does it really matter? The assignment is still the same either way.
Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she leans forward to take a look at the book.]
I wouldn't know. I know the name, but I don't think I've read anything by him.
His work is considered part of the classics. Can't say it's an enjoyable read.
[ Personally, he doesn't find Salinger very engaging. Contractor or not. Holden Caulfield is not a protagonist he wants to know or follow in the footsteps of. But personal taste in reading isn't what he's here to wax poetic about. Instead, he turns a little, reaches into the small messenger bag he'd brought along and sets another book on the table. Inside, there's an encrypted USB holding all the information he'd been willing to pass on.
The book itself is another classic– Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. Maybe the choice was a little on the nose. ]
You might like this one, though. A bit sci-fi mixed with government corruption. Pardon my assumption, but it seems like it'd run in your interests.
[ He flashes a small smile, something familiar but only just. ]
[ He wasn't willing to believe it at first. Not because of any fear, necessarily, but just because it didn't make sense.
Except it did.
They'd seen this happen before, didn't they? With Havoc, who had regressed, who lived like a normal human. Unburdened by her contract and everything that came with it. After South America, she'd been able to disappear. Fade into the sea of the population of the world until they came looking for her again. November doesn't want to disappear, not really. It's never been his nature to go quietly into the background. The reason he'd joined MI6 to begin with is so he could be involved. Despite being a contractor, he still had this unshakeable sense of loyalty to his country.
It was always buried underneath all the not-caring, but it was there.
Except it's being dug up. Kicked to the surface more and more. He and April have been in Japan for a number of weeks and he keeps getting these lapses. It doesn't always coincide with him using his powers. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night, unsettled by memories from the Heaven's Gate war, the cold curling grasp of fear sitting on his spine. And then it goes away again, leaving him empty.
He's recovering from one such moment now, as he sits in one of the nice chairs in their hotel, sipping brandy with a shaking hand. Undoubtedly, April woke up from his moving around, but he hesitates to say anything. July sleeps on, blissfully unaware. ]
[ She had been awake far longer than November had known. Her eyes had been wide with wakefulness as she stared at the dark shadow of the draperies covering the windows when he started moving about in the suite between his room and hers. In truth, she really couldn't remember when it had started as it had snuck up on her in incremental degrees. At first, it had just been a few minutes before slumber wrapped her up in it's warm embrace, but then it grew to an hour. Then two, and now...
She sat upright the her name was whispered and she quickly swung her legs over the bedside, grateful for action since slumber was denied her. There had been a time when Insomnia was a thing of the past and had been since the day she had forged her contract. It was not supposed to be her future and it certainly was not supposed to be her present. But she practical and since it was here to stay, she may as well put her time to good use.
Shrugging into a frilly robe and tightening the sash to keep it closed, she quietly opened up her door and strode into the night shadowed room. ]
I'm here.
[ as she would always be when he needed her; as he had always been when she needed him. They were partners and damn good ones too. ]
[ He sets his glass down on the table, places his hand next to it so he can stop being distracted by the tremor. ]
I didn't wake you, did I?
[ A useless question, since he knows her to well. But he feels- that's the crux isn't it- guilty about it. Even though logically, she would be up no matter what. They're spies. Alertness runs in their blood, in their years of training. When she gets up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he hears it. With or without these new developments. ]
[ April snorted, placing one hand on her hip as she stared at her partner from the doorway. ]
I was wide awake already as you well know.
[ Or she assumed he did; very rarely did even April manage to pull a fast one over his eyes. Striding into the room, she sat down next to him and crossed her long legs to all the better angle herself into a position to see his rather pleasant profile (although why that thought sent a thrill tingling up her spine was beyond her. Because she was supposed to be beyond thrills, especially given the life she lived.) Raising an eyebrow, she stared at her partner. ]
You can't sleep?
[ She would like to say she wasn't worried but she was (odd as that sounds). She needed at least one of them alert and awake in the morning and usually that meant November took up that slack. ]
[ Except the way he says it, the words are distracted. Tinged away from the careful neutral he would've preferred. The neutral that he's been carrying like a cloak ever since the first time he'd frozen someone's veins to ice. It's a break in the facade, one that's been so easily worn until now.
Suddenly weary alongside the tension, he breathes out a sigh, fingers tracing the beginnings of condensation on the glass.
If he wanted, he could chill it. He doesn't think he could do much else, that all his effort would be bent into such a simple task. ]
No, another lapse. Our past was rather ugly, wasn't it?
((ooc: I was so surprised and happy to see this pop up in my inbox. /fluffs you up ♥)
[ she kept her frown to herself as a stab of worry pierced her heart and she immediately shoved that wayward thought from her mind. Instead, she just raised her brow and meandered over to the mini fridge to find herself a beer. ]
More than a bit ugly I would say; It can be rather bone-chilling if you dwell on it for too long.
[ she popped open the seal and then spared another glance for her partner, the worry now showing on her face. ]
Are you thinking about her again? [ That Havoc woman. She had seemed so calm, so at peace with herself after they had found her in that hotel for prostitutes. If only April could have bottled that up and shared it with her partner in times like these. It was a blessing, whatever that woman had done. And April didn't exactly believe in a higher power anymore; not like that anyway. Not after the things she had done and seen. ]
[ Bone chilling. Horrifying and horrific in turns. November glances up at the sound of the can tab popping open; April's no longer hiding her worry and he feels a swooping sensation like guilt. She's so put together, someone he's always been able to count on to weather the storm.
He hates that he's reduced to this, that his old life has dredged itself up through the cold blank. Picked through the sheet of ice he's had over his conscience, cracks spidering along at random intervals. ]
How can I not?
[ She's the only one who has ever been recorded to have gone through this. The regression, the erosion of her power until it blinked out and left just her. A human with blood on her hands.
(But she made something of it, hadn't she?)
November picks up what's left of his drink and downs it in a neat swallow. He gestures to the fridge with the glass still in hand, looking weary, circles defined by the shadows in the room. ]
[ Now she knows something is wrong if he's actually asking for her beer instead of the hard liquor he tends to prefer (being that classy, suave MI-6 agent they each like to play at being). She got it for him though, no questions asked and popped the seal off with an expert twist of her fingers before handing it to him. ]
Here, but don't drink too fast else I might think you're pretending to be me.
[ not a whole lot of chance that, though. November might be pretty suave and hot in that white suit of his, but she really doubted he could pull off her dress. Taking a seat on the arm of the chair November was sitting in, she glanced down at him. ]
If you need to talk, I can listen.
[ although she should tell him that she too has been fearing the dark of late, wondering at the strange, twisting feeling digging into her spine when she couldn't sleep. That he hadn't commented on her drinking habits of late wasn't necessarily a good sign either. Even if she had been sneaking out of the apartment more and more, as she had been indulging in those late night, early morning drinking binges.
... even though she had been chasing after the tantalizing, almost feeling of being buzzed for the first time in a long time. But she stayed silent, keeping her lips firmly shut, afraid to voice what she was starting to fear. And even that fear was a gift and a treasure.
[ He hates it, that he's reduced to this. Numbing the edges, the sharp glass fragments of memories that stick in his chest, alcohol burning it away. It isn't good to be dependent on something he doesn't need– shouldn't need. But right now, with the tremor in his hand and the creeping misery, it's a lifeline.
November takes the proffered drink, giving her a grateful little nod, a strained smile. ]
Only you can be your special brand, April, you know that.
[ They'd tried to replace her once, on his team. He'd gone to Decade, all smiles and charming words but flinty eyes and straightened that out right away. They're a team. April, July, and him. And with the rush of memories, the emotion, he has an even firmer rush of protectiveness.
Carefully, he takes a sip of the beer, not even noticing the taste. ]
I don't– I don't know what to say. [ Brows furrowed, he flicks his gaze up at her. ]
It feels like everything's dredged up. As though someone unmuted my whole life, suddenly.
[ she stilled on her perch on the side of the armchair, so near to November and yet so far away before she slowly raised her beer (her own tremor showing slightly) and took a sip. Life unmuted: how apt a description that was and she felt a sudden rush of nostalgia as she remembered the first time she had seen November. He had been a veteran after just a few months, she was still green around the edges, a fresh, gawky barely out of her teens and freshly minted with her contract.
But she had been optimistic then, even still, faking the emotion as surely as the phrase, fake it til you make it, demanded. She pasted on a smile for November's sake. ]
No wonder you've been glum lately; It's practically been like having a teenager in the house again.
[ she chuckled, but the laugh fell flat even to her own ears and then she sighed, letting her beer fall to her lap where she cupped it in both hands. ]
You're right, however; nothing's felt quite right since we entered this country. [ she flicked a glance towards their third bedroom where July was curled up with a bear they'd picked up in some awful, cheesy gift shop as a joke (even though July loved it). ] Even July... [ she shrugged and then kicked her heels back a little as she leaned back. ]
Do you hate it?
[ hate it. She shivered a little, wondering that she could even ask such a question and wonder the answer to it. Emotions, they were... so unnecessary to who she was now, but she couldn't escape it no matter how she twisted and turned, deflected and ignored. It was there, creeping at the corner of her vision, a forgotten ghost that she had thought long since put to rest. ]
[ After he receives the message from Eames, he goes about his day. Some of it drags, purely because they don't have much directive at the moment. But he's been making himself useful where he can, picking up courier jobs or small one-offs he can leave easily. So he spends most of the day assisting an aging duchess with organizing her wine collection, a job he earned purely by flirting with her outrageously. She's harmless and titters happily at his jokes and good looks and everyone wins out in the end.
It's easy, then, to meet at Le Grenouille just before eight. By his clock, he's about seven minutes early, something he takes advantage of by insinuating himself at the bar's corner, back to the wall. The bartend sets his glass of absinthe in front of him and he settles in to wait.
Though true to his word, he wore trousers that showed more stocking. From how he crossed his legs, the description he gave Eames will suffice. ]
[Most of Eames' day is spent listening in on people's conversations, both Frenchman and COST member alike. He needs a grip on what's happening within COST and what's happening with Paris.
Impatient for the evening, he ends up going on a walk and getting distracted, arriving a few minutes after at Le Grenouille, hands stuffed in pockets and eyes scanning the crowd. His eyes track a pair of long legs at the bar, and he smirks a little, certain he's just found Jack Simon.
He's an interesting fellow, seems to have a few tricks up his sleeve, and Eames wants to learn more about him. And, well... he's incredibly attractive. He strolls over casually.]
[ When Eames enters the bar, November is fairly sure he knows it's him, even without having seen a picture. There's a set to his shoulders and the way his eyes scan the crowd means he's looking for someone.
Thankfully, he's correct in his read. And he is thankful, because Eames is good looking along with being sharp witted. His lucky day.
November uncrosses his legs and sets the heels of his shoes along the stool bar under him, extends a hand out in greeting. ]
You presume correctly, Eames. [ Having shaken so many politician's hands, he opts for something a little less formal. His hand lingers, long fingers brushing over Eames' wrist before he pulls away. ]
Please, let me get you a drink.
would ciel allow this no but look memes don't matter
[ this is me wildly making shit up just adjust as needed ]
[ It's a butler's duty to keep the manor well-stocked. More often than not, it's as simple as making orders and having them delivered to the estate. Most suppliers and sellers were quite agreeable with the inconvenience so long as an extra fee was paid, and the Phantomhives had plenty of that. However, it wasn't quite true for everything. There were a few items that weren't able to be handled this way, and while Sebastian had at first sent some of the servants to fetch them... Well, it hadn't turned out well. In fact, Sebastian wasn't really sure why he expected anything else.
So it had become something of a habit. Once a month or so, Sebastian would inform Ciel that he would be out for the day, Ciel would fussily object to the matter (really, should his master be that opposed to his demon stepping out for a few hours), and with cakes to improve his mood, off he'd go. Sometimes if Ciel wasn't swayed by his arguments, it would become an outing for the entire manor, but luckily today, it had been easy enough.
Sebastian pulls a watch out of his jacket as he arrives in London, then nods. Early for the pickup appointment, as always. It's rare time away, a sort of pleasant vacation, and though it was certainly rare, he'd still managed to find a regular place to spend some time. He enjoyed interacting with humans, and without the watchful eye of his master on his back, he could do so in a way that was a bit more enjoyable. He can hardly be called a regular, but he makes his way to wherever Victorian November would be hanging out idek, and takes off his hat as he enters.
It's a quick scan of the room, but he chuckles lightly as he spots a familiar face. It's one of the humans he's met here once or twice before, and so one he's a bit more interested in seeing. Their past conversations had been more interesting than most. ]
Why, Mr. November— It is a surprise to see you here yet again.
[ He's not always in London proper, sent out on investigations all over the place. His job is one of much travel, exhausting as it can be. However, he's not one to be turned off by such things, since seeing new places always helped readjust his perspective. Made it easier to take smaller details into account.
For a majority of his next month, though, he's in the heart of it. Scotland Yard has him close to home base while they restructure their hierarchy, some kerfuffle having caused changes in leadership. So long as he continues to keep the relative freedom he's afforded in the aftermath, he doesn't really mind one way or another.
In fact, today is nothing doing. Or as close as it gets. Having time on his hands, he's gone to replace his field camera, the old one just a bit out of date. November leans against the counter, relaxed, when he hears the tinkle of bells, announcing someone new coming in. The shop isn't really that large, but it does deal in an assortment of curios, many which one must step around to see the counter clearly.
Turning his head to the address, he straightens, a polite smile appearing along the line of his mouth. ]
Ah, and Mr. Michaelis. Very good to see you as well. I was in town and of course, you remember my latest obsession with photography? It turns out our friend here has a similar interest.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
entertain me // nov/misaki
So, while he has his orders to keep an eye on the main mission prerogative and to obtain information on BK201, he's also been assisting the Japanese police in their work. From small cases all the way on up– though to keep any possible conflict of interest out of the way, he's gone in as an anonymous tip off. This time, he's here to meet someone as a full informant. It's hard for someone as blonde and blue eyed as him to hide, so he does what he can. A pair of fake reading glasses, a completely different outfit, and a little makeup changes his face just enough.
In a way, it's kind of amusing. He hasn't had to go undercover like this in a while. Carefully, he sips his coffee while slouched at a cafe table. The appointed meeting place. Across from him, the chair is empty, but the table also bears a copy of Catcher In The Rye, the signifier to whoever is supposed to meet him here. They weren't exactly forthright on who they would send, so he's stuck waiting and trying not to be too obvious he's watching everyone. ]
no subject
Then again, the last time she met an informant in private, she ended up wearing more of his blood than she wanted and nearly died herself later that night.
It felt strange to be out of uniform on the clock, but even she knew better than to show up looking like a cop. Even if the informant didn't freak out, every eye in the place would be on them which wouldn't do much good.
As soon as she entered the cafe, Misaki started looking for anyone sitting alone. The cafe was busy so it was easy to spot the man, the book sitting out on the table her sign. Misaki walked over to the table as if looking for a place to sit.]
Is this seat taken?
no subject
Although it doesn't show on his face, he is somewhat surprised to see her here. It was always a possibility, since the precinct could've sent whomever they thought was right for the job. And if there's anyone he'd trust to keep their mouth shut about secret handoffs, it's Misaki. He's never known a more honest cop. ]
No, please. [ November gestures to the empty seat, reining in any familiarity. Someone could be watching. ] Are you a fan of Salinger's work?
no subject
Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she leans forward to take a look at the book.]
I wouldn't know. I know the name, but I don't think I've read anything by him.
no subject
[ Personally, he doesn't find Salinger very engaging. Contractor or not. Holden Caulfield is not a protagonist he wants to know or follow in the footsteps of. But personal taste in reading isn't what he's here to wax poetic about. Instead, he turns a little, reaches into the small messenger bag he'd brought along and sets another book on the table. Inside, there's an encrypted USB holding all the information he'd been willing to pass on.
The book itself is another classic– Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. Maybe the choice was a little on the nose. ]
You might like this one, though. A bit sci-fi mixed with government corruption. Pardon my assumption, but it seems like it'd run in your interests.
[ He flashes a small smile, something familiar but only just. ]
disentangling // april + nov
Except it did.
They'd seen this happen before, didn't they? With Havoc, who had regressed, who lived like a normal human. Unburdened by her contract and everything that came with it. After South America, she'd been able to disappear. Fade into the sea of the population of the world until they came looking for her again. November doesn't want to disappear, not really. It's never been his nature to go quietly into the background. The reason he'd joined MI6 to begin with is so he could be involved. Despite being a contractor, he still had this unshakeable sense of loyalty to his country.
It was always buried underneath all the not-caring, but it was there.
Except it's being dug up. Kicked to the surface more and more. He and April have been in Japan for a number of weeks and he keeps getting these lapses. It doesn't always coincide with him using his powers. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night, unsettled by memories from the Heaven's Gate war, the cold curling grasp of fear sitting on his spine. And then it goes away again, leaving him empty.
He's recovering from one such moment now, as he sits in one of the nice chairs in their hotel, sipping brandy with a shaking hand. Undoubtedly, April woke up from his moving around, but he hesitates to say anything. July sleeps on, blissfully unaware. ]
April.
no subject
She sat upright the her name was whispered and she quickly swung her legs over the bedside, grateful for action since slumber was denied her. There had been a time when Insomnia was a thing of the past and had been since the day she had forged her contract. It was not supposed to be her future and it certainly was not supposed to be her present. But she practical and since it was here to stay, she may as well put her time to good use.
Shrugging into a frilly robe and tightening the sash to keep it closed, she quietly opened up her door and strode into the night shadowed room. ]
I'm here.
[ as she would always be when he needed her; as he had always been when she needed him. They were partners and damn good ones too. ]
no subject
[ He sets his glass down on the table, places his hand next to it so he can stop being distracted by the tremor. ]
I didn't wake you, did I?
[ A useless question, since he knows her to well. But he feels- that's the crux isn't it- guilty about it. Even though logically, she would be up no matter what. They're spies. Alertness runs in their blood, in their years of training. When she gets up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, he hears it. With or without these new developments. ]
no subject
I was wide awake already as you well know.
[ Or she assumed he did; very rarely did even April manage to pull a fast one over his eyes. Striding into the room, she sat down next to him and crossed her long legs to all the better angle herself into a position to see his rather pleasant profile (although why that thought sent a thrill tingling up her spine was beyond her. Because she was supposed to be beyond thrills, especially given the life she lived.) Raising an eyebrow, she stared at her partner. ]
You can't sleep?
[ She would like to say she wasn't worried but she was (odd as that sounds). She needed at least one of them alert and awake in the morning and usually that meant November took up that slack. ]
no subject
[ Except the way he says it, the words are distracted. Tinged away from the careful neutral he would've preferred. The neutral that he's been carrying like a cloak ever since the first time he'd frozen someone's veins to ice. It's a break in the facade, one that's been so easily worn until now.
Suddenly weary alongside the tension, he breathes out a sigh, fingers tracing the beginnings of condensation on the glass.
If he wanted, he could chill it. He doesn't think he could do much else, that all his effort would be bent into such a simple task. ]
No, another lapse. Our past was rather ugly, wasn't it?
no subject
[ she kept her frown to herself as a stab of worry pierced her heart and she immediately shoved that wayward thought from her mind. Instead, she just raised her brow and meandered over to the mini fridge to find herself a beer. ]
More than a bit ugly I would say; It can be rather bone-chilling if you dwell on it for too long.
[ she popped open the seal and then spared another glance for her partner, the worry now showing on her face. ]
Are you thinking about her again? [ That Havoc woman. She had seemed so calm, so at peace with herself after they had found her in that hotel for prostitutes. If only April could have bottled that up and shared it with her partner in times like these. It was a blessing, whatever that woman had done. And April didn't exactly believe in a higher power anymore; not like that anyway. Not after the things she had done and seen. ]
i'm always happy about these two tbh
[ Bone chilling. Horrifying and horrific in turns. November glances up at the sound of the can tab popping open; April's no longer hiding her worry and he feels a swooping sensation like guilt. She's so put together, someone he's always been able to count on to weather the storm.
He hates that he's reduced to this, that his old life has dredged itself up through the cold blank. Picked through the sheet of ice he's had over his conscience, cracks spidering along at random intervals. ]
How can I not?
[ She's the only one who has ever been recorded to have gone through this. The regression, the erosion of her power until it blinked out and left just her. A human with blood on her hands.
(But she made something of it, hadn't she?)
November picks up what's left of his drink and downs it in a neat swallow. He gestures to the fridge with the glass still in hand, looking weary, circles defined by the shadows in the room. ]
Pass me one, will you?
same, I am the same
Here, but don't drink too fast else I might think you're pretending to be me.
[ not a whole lot of chance that, though. November might be pretty suave and hot in that white suit of his, but she really doubted he could pull off her dress. Taking a seat on the arm of the chair November was sitting in, she glanced down at him. ]
If you need to talk, I can listen.
[ although she should tell him that she too has been fearing the dark of late, wondering at the strange, twisting feeling digging into her spine when she couldn't sleep. That he hadn't commented on her drinking habits of late wasn't necessarily a good sign either. Even if she had been sneaking out of the apartment more and more, as she had been indulging in those late night, early morning drinking binges.
... even though she had been chasing after the tantalizing, almost feeling of being buzzed for the first time in a long time. But she stayed silent, keeping her lips firmly shut, afraid to voice what she was starting to fear. And even that fear was a gift and a treasure.
Even as it terrorized her. ]
no subject
November takes the proffered drink, giving her a grateful little nod, a strained smile. ]
Only you can be your special brand, April, you know that.
[ They'd tried to replace her once, on his team. He'd gone to Decade, all smiles and charming words but flinty eyes and straightened that out right away. They're a team. April, July, and him. And with the rush of memories, the emotion, he has an even firmer rush of protectiveness.
Carefully, he takes a sip of the beer, not even noticing the taste. ]
I don't– I don't know what to say. [ Brows furrowed, he flicks his gaze up at her. ]
It feels like everything's dredged up. As though someone unmuted my whole life, suddenly.
no subject
But she had been optimistic then, even still, faking the emotion as surely as the phrase, fake it til you make it, demanded. She pasted on a smile for November's sake. ]
No wonder you've been glum lately; It's practically been like having a teenager in the house again.
[ she chuckled, but the laugh fell flat even to her own ears and then she sighed, letting her beer fall to her lap where she cupped it in both hands. ]
You're right, however; nothing's felt quite right since we entered this country. [ she flicked a glance towards their third bedroom where July was curled up with a bear they'd picked up in some awful, cheesy gift shop as a joke (even though July loved it). ] Even July... [ she shrugged and then kicked her heels back a little as she leaned back. ]
Do you hate it?
[ hate it. She shivered a little, wondering that she could even ask such a question and wonder the answer to it. Emotions, they were... so unnecessary to who she was now, but she couldn't escape it no matter how she twisted and turned, deflected and ignored. It was there, creeping at the corner of her vision, a forgotten ghost that she had thought long since put to rest. ]
kiss kiss bang bang // nov/eames
[ After he receives the message from Eames, he goes about his day. Some of it drags, purely because they don't have much directive at the moment. But he's been making himself useful where he can, picking up courier jobs or small one-offs he can leave easily. So he spends most of the day assisting an aging duchess with organizing her wine collection, a job he earned purely by flirting with her outrageously. She's harmless and titters happily at his jokes and good looks and everyone wins out in the end.
It's easy, then, to meet at Le Grenouille just before eight. By his clock, he's about seven minutes early, something he takes advantage of by insinuating himself at the bar's corner, back to the wall. The bartend sets his glass of absinthe in front of him and he settles in to wait.
Though true to his word, he wore trousers that showed more stocking. From how he crossed his legs, the description he gave Eames will suffice. ]
no subject
Impatient for the evening, he ends up going on a walk and getting distracted, arriving a few minutes after at Le Grenouille, hands stuffed in pockets and eyes scanning the crowd. His eyes track a pair of long legs at the bar, and he smirks a little, certain he's just found Jack Simon.
He's an interesting fellow, seems to have a few tricks up his sleeve, and Eames wants to learn more about him. And, well... he's incredibly attractive. He strolls over casually.]
Jack Simon, I presume?
no subject
Thankfully, he's correct in his read. And he is thankful, because Eames is good looking along with being sharp witted. His lucky day.
November uncrosses his legs and sets the heels of his shoes along the stool bar under him, extends a hand out in greeting. ]
You presume correctly, Eames. [ Having shaken so many politician's hands, he opts for something a little less formal. His hand lingers, long fingers brushing over Eames' wrist before he pulls away. ]
Please, let me get you a drink.
would ciel allow this no but look memes don't matter
[ It's a butler's duty to keep the manor well-stocked. More often than not, it's as simple as making orders and having them delivered to the estate. Most suppliers and sellers were quite agreeable with the inconvenience so long as an extra fee was paid, and the Phantomhives had plenty of that. However, it wasn't quite true for everything. There were a few items that weren't able to be handled this way, and while Sebastian had at first sent some of the servants to fetch them... Well, it hadn't turned out well. In fact, Sebastian wasn't really sure why he expected anything else.
So it had become something of a habit. Once a month or so, Sebastian would inform Ciel that he would be out for the day, Ciel would fussily object to the matter (really, should his master be that opposed to his demon stepping out for a few hours), and with cakes to improve his mood, off he'd go. Sometimes if Ciel wasn't swayed by his arguments, it would become an outing for the entire manor, but luckily today, it had been easy enough.
Sebastian pulls a watch out of his jacket as he arrives in London, then nods. Early for the pickup appointment, as always. It's rare time away, a sort of pleasant vacation, and though it was certainly rare, he'd still managed to find a regular place to spend some time. He enjoyed interacting with humans, and without the watchful eye of his master on his back, he could do so in a way that was a bit more enjoyable. He can hardly be called a regular, but he makes his way to wherever Victorian November would be hanging out idek, and takes off his hat as he enters.
It's a quick scan of the room, but he chuckles lightly as he spots a familiar face. It's one of the humans he's met here once or twice before, and so one he's a bit more interested in seeing. Their past conversations had been more interesting than most. ]
Why, Mr. November— It is a surprise to see you here yet again.
memes, where the points don't matter
For a majority of his next month, though, he's in the heart of it. Scotland Yard has him close to home base while they restructure their hierarchy, some kerfuffle having caused changes in leadership. So long as he continues to keep the relative freedom he's afforded in the aftermath, he doesn't really mind one way or another.
In fact, today is nothing doing. Or as close as it gets. Having time on his hands, he's gone to replace his field camera, the old one just a bit out of date. November leans against the counter, relaxed, when he hears the tinkle of bells, announcing someone new coming in. The shop isn't really that large, but it does deal in an assortment of curios, many which one must step around to see the counter clearly.
Turning his head to the address, he straightens, a polite smile appearing along the line of his mouth. ]
Ah, and Mr. Michaelis. Very good to see you as well. I was in town and of course, you remember my latest obsession with photography? It turns out our friend here has a similar interest.
TFLN
2. Don't read too much into what I just sent. I love you, always have, but I'm drunk and sorry for the confusion.
3. That was the first time i’ve been physically intimidated by a LinkedIn profile.
4. Just make sure you put pants on
3
no subject
Well, I should correct that. I have, but they've usually been fake.