Post by Carley on Dec 13, 2015 18:57:51 GMT -8
CAST: Tucker North (hesitantlyyours@aol.com), Roman Kerrs (idealdanger@aol.com)
SUMMARY: Newly-assigned Sterling Group partners Tucker and Roman size one another up in neutral territory. (Note: old log, from late November, I forgot to post this, go ahead and hang me as appropriate.)
Tucker: The moment Tucker had joined the Sterling Group, which claimed that they needed men like himself, he had been assigned a partner. The name was one that he had heard exactly once, breathed from a pair of berry-painted lips in passing in Lily Hall from a brunette who hid herself behind her binder of stage notes like she didn't want him to make eye contact. The meeting between the two, the first meeting, the get-to-know-you meeting, had been set up in a small cafe on the Thames, and it had been set up by Tucker, because apparently, as the brains-half of this operation, he was the one responsible for planning the non-combat activities. That wasn't to say that Roman wasn't smart, or that Tucker couldn't fight. In fact, it had been strongly implied that they were on a level intellectually. But Roman was by far a better fighter than Tucker was, so he got to be the muscle to the cambion's brains. Tucker had settled down in a corner booth and was judging the hell out of the coffee that was made here. Not bad, but nothing on par with what he or Andy or Molly could pull off. They had been confused by his order, by the fact that he asked for cream but wanted syrups instead of sugar. The cinnamon roll was good, though. He had to give them that. It was just past sunset, the moments right before true darkness took London, though it had been dark for a while considering the rain that had darkened the city all day. Tonight there was a chance of snow. Tucker intended to be back in Turner Hall by the time that happened, buried in his notes on autosomal dominant and recessive patterns of inheritance, snuggled under the blankets with his favorite little linguist. Hopefully Roman showed.
Roman: Roman had zero personal ties to the Sterling Group. He was a free agent, and he was currently working 'under' them because the exchange was mutually beneficial. It paid well, and he had the skills. It wasn't his only job, of course, but it was the bulk of his income. He had been notified of the fact that he'd been assigned a partner, and to be quite honest, he hadn't taken too kindly to it. He worked alone. Others were liabilities. Whoever this amateur was, Roman was sure he was gonna be some idiot rookie who was bound to get them both in some legal trouble. Alright, so he'd at least meet this fellow. Jeans, boots, and a button-up covered the American under his black pea coat and green scarf. When he stepped inside, he tugged his gloves off of his hands with his teeth, shoved them in his pocket, and looked around. He'd been given a brief description of the guy, and he was pretty sure that he saw him there. It wasn't like the cafe was filled with patrons tonight. The night life had sort of died down since the events in Paris earlier this month. Roman approached the young man at the table. "Mister North, I presume?" he asked, that southern drawl definitely matching the scruffy face it came from. He eyed him without sitting down, just in case this wasn't the person he was looking for. And lord, he hoped it wasn't. This kid was like, what? Twelve?
Tucker: That's twenty-one, thank you very much. A couple months shy of twenty-two. And while his face said scruffy young pretty-boy, his eyes said something else. Those blues scanned the...the American? Now that was something nobody had mentioned. Hm. He seemed a little older than what he had expected of somebody who had made Mira Roth giggle like a teenager. "Mister Kerrs." The Cockney drawl slid from his mouth, and although he didn't rise to greet him, he did gesture to the chair across from him. "Pleasure to meet ya." So sorry to let you down, but this was exactly who you were looking for, Roman! "Thanks for comin' out on such short notice and in such bloody awful weather. I just wanted to touch base with you, sorta establish strengths and weaknesses. I don't wanna waste time havin' to learn about one another on the job. It'll detract from what we gotta do." A hand waved towards the coffee, actually, whether Roman had sat down or not. "Coffee's on me." Though it was still not nearly as good as anything that could be procured from Joe's. Ahem. Although his words were serious, there was a little upquirk of his mouth. This was exciting! He had asked Beth how best he could serve her Counsel, and this was her answer. Work for the Sterling Group, because they can put your talents to use.
Roman: Ah, so it was the person he was looking for. Well, this oughta be interesting. He was fairly sure this kid wouldn't last a week on the job, but hey, who was he to tell this kid something when he could learn it on his own time. "Roman," he corrected Tucker. He didn't want to go by Mr. Kerrs. "Or just Kerrs. No Mister." He unbuttoned his coat and hung it on the back of the chair along with his scarf. One hand came up to sort of idly scratch at the back of his head as he sat down. "Nice to meetcha, too, Kid," he said. He grabbed the carafe on the table and poured himself a cup of coffee just so that he'd have something to keep him hydrated. No cream, just sugar. Sip. " 'preciate it," he said of the coffee. Okay, so Tucker wanted to get to know him and wanted him to get to know Tucker. This wasn't a frat house, but whatever. He supposed it was a relatively good idea. Knowing what you were working with before you were thrust into the middle of a job was good idea. "Well, whatcha wanna know? I've got years of experience, and I'm a good swimmer," he said with his own little smirk.
Tucker: "Tucker, then." If they weren't going to stand on ceremony, that was all the better. And if Roman thought he wouldn't last a week, here was Tucker trying to prove himself. Not just to Roman, but to Beth as well. To the Counsel at large. And in a way, to his father as well. "Or I suppose Kid, I can suffer through that." Considering he was obviously younger than Roman. "Well, if you got years of experience, I'm lookin' to learn from you, so I'll tell you that flat out. I wanted to know your specialties. My own tend more towards research and investigation, but I got some skill in fightin' too. I know the Sterling Group focuses on recruitin' unusual individuals, too, so I was wantin' to know, if you feel comfortable sharin', what sort of unusual individual you are. And of course I'll...show you mine, if you show me yours, yeah?" He wasn't flirting. It was just that sometimes, everything that came out of his mouth sounded like flirting. Clever fingers, one bearing a ring with an old family crest that was not his own, curled around his cup of coffee, and he took a sip before delving back into the cinnamon roll. Considering he had been picking bits out with his fingers rather than taking bites, he also offered that to Roman. Might as well share.
Roman: Tucker. Or Kid. ... Roman was going to go with Kid because he was obviously a kid in comparison. It really was no offense to Tucker, the fact that Roman didn't believe in him, but he'd seen many a kids try to tag along and end up dead. Roman was the only one who had ended up alive after 'The Escape.' The two brothers that had gone with him had drowned, and Roman had just left them to do so. Every man for himself. Or in this case, every naga for himself. "It's best if you avoid the fightin' to begin with. Tends to be less messy. Less energy exerted the better. Subterfuge is an artform, Kid. You look like a smart one." He gave a little nod towards Tucker. And then he asked about what he was. That made the naga smirk. It was a slow, deliberate smirk. "I can't show you right now. It's a little dry up here. To show you would require water. Lots and lots of water." He brought the mug to his lips and took a long, slow sip. He waved off the cinnamon roll; he didn't feel like eating Tucker's sloppy seconds. "So you first, Kid. What the hell are ya?" To give Tucker a sneak preview, Roman did a double blink. Vertical eyelids closed first, then his normal ones, distinctly reptilian.
Tucker: Excuse the offer of sharing, Roman, geez. Get used to it, Tucker was a creature of natural comforts. Sex was the most obvious, but he was also a fan of sleep and food. No matter, though. More sticky cinnamon goodness for him. His smile grew wider. "A smart one. I try to be. And yeah, I'd rather not fight. Gets messy, leaves a trail..." There was a perk of brows as he watched the...reptile eyes? So he was some sort of...snake? Water snake? Water dragon? Lizard of the sea? Intriguing. "Well, looks like you got the watery thing handled for us, if we gotta go river divin' or somethin'. My kind ain't particularly specialized for water." He tipped his head towards the young waitress behind the counter. "Watch her face." The energy rolled off him. Roman, not into men, wouldn't notice, but the girl looked up. Her eyes met Tucker's, her cheeks turned red, and she ducked behind the muffin dome with a squeak. "The word is cambion. Mum's human, Dad's an incubus. The intellect is pure human, Mum's a smart one and I think she passed that on to me. The seduction...that's all Daddy's." Tucker sipped his coffee as though he hadn't just brought the poor waitress half a breath away from an orgasm. "Manipulation, supernatural speed and strength. I got wings." Of course this was all delivered very quietly, leaning in to whisper.
Roman: Lizard of the sea. Yes. Good job, Tucker. It's a good thing he didn't say that out loud because it would have made Roman snort laugh. "It's a good escape," he said, which happened to be the understatement of the, well, twentieth century spilling into the twenty-first. Roman canted his head so he could watch the waitress at Tucker's suggestion. It was everything Roman had to keep him from laughing at the interaction. He turned back towards the youngster. "Not bad, Kiddo. That must get you laid like nobody's business," he said with a grin. Manipulation, speed, and strength. And wings. Alright, so he supposed he needed to elaborate on what he could do, aye? "The word is naga. Specifically water naga," he said using Tucker's segue. "Escape artist. Deception. Material liberation," he said, giving a new, fancy name to 'good stealer.' He liberated material objects from their owners. Like cars. Or whatever he wanted. Or whatever Mira wanted.
Tucker: "It's gotta get me laid. I die if I don't get laid. Quite literally. Wither up and die, I do, though bein' a half-breed means I can at least get by with food." The waitress was offered one last, devilish wink. "Luckily for me, I got a steady supplier." Naga, check. Water naga, check. Material liberation? That brought a snicker-snort out of the cambion, a friendly sound, but clearly an amused one. "Oh, so you take things that ain't yours. Startin' to understand why they matched us up, I am." Because they both walked a very morally gray, murky path. Tucker hadn't done so too much lately, but that was starting to change. "Alright, so what's your weakness? What's that thing I gotta guard against you comin' into contact with? We all got somethin', we do. Me? Holy things. Pagan stuff don't count, but any faith that views sex as a sin means their holy stuff is gonna burn my skin on contact. If you're a God-fearin' man I ain't got a quarrel with you, but you gotta take any sort of holy stuff off your body 'fore we can work together." The gossipmonger that lurked just below the surface had an additional question for Roman, but you know? Maybe he wouldn't ask. Maybe he'd just wait to see what happened. Or maybe he'd phrase it in a different manner. You can trust me. We have a mutual friend. Though I get the feeling you know her way better than I do.
Roman: "Not exactly," he said, smirking as he drew his hand through his hair. "I take my things. They're mine. Good ol'Christopher Columbus is an idol of mine," he said. Ha. See it, take it. It's his car now, he discovered it. "I found it, didn't I?" he asked. If it was good enough for an 'American Hero' then it was good enough for him. "Never got a holiday named after me, though. Shame. Lots of stupid tchotches, however." Which was true. His whole case had spurned a whole tourist industry, an you'd be surprised at the stupid things they made because of his fateful escape. Mun actually had a shot glass, she did. "Normally, I don't talk about weaknesses with anybody," he said, but at least the man had given him his own weaknesses. "I always gotta be hydrated. And being extra cold can be a bitch. Makes me move real slow unless it's water-based cold. I prefer fresh water, but I can get around in salt-water for short periods of time. Burns a bit in the gills," he said, gesturing and fluttering his fingers about his neck. "God fearin'? Nah, not especially."
Tucker: Tucker hoisted his coffee mug up to Roman at his analysis of Christopher Columbus. "Ah, yes. I hear it told they got Columbus Day sales on your side of the pond, yeah? How's that work, then? Do you just go to your nearest car dealership, sit yourself down in the most expensive one, and declare it yours 'cause you're sittin' in it and therefore you discovered it?" His shaggy, dark head nodded at Roman's listed weaknesses. Has to be hydrated, don't let him get too cold. "Good, I think we're gonna work out just fine, and I'll try not to let you down with how bloody green I am." Though he wasn't as green as he claimed. After all, he had been one of the three to blow the lid off a year's worth of nonsense at Shepherd University. His head canted, and he decided to add the last bit of information that he had about the man. "Now, all that said. I think you and I got a mutual friend, of sorts. Heard your name exactly one time before. You know Miriam Roth?" Jesus, the energy that had rolled off the girl when she had breathed his name had surprised even the cambion, or maybe it was just surprising given its source.
Roman: "Every day is Columbus Day when you're me," he said with a bright beam. He had liberated many a car from their owners over his years. He chuckled at the suggestion of walking onto a lot to steal a car on Columbus Day. "I'll help you learn, so long as you're willin'to put in the work. You do somethin'stupid, I really got no problem lettin'ya deal with the consequences by yourself." In other words, it was always every man for himself. If Tucker put them in the line of danger, Roman was outta there. He had a high sense of self-preservation, and it had served him well over the past several decades. He finished up his coffee and was just about to stand up and bid Tucker adios when he brought up a mutual, ah... 'friend.' That made him pause, and he sat back down in his chair to look at the cambion across from him. "That's my girl," he explained, though it wasn't with a bright, bubbly smile on his face like he might have gotten from Mira. No, this was something else. "You pull your sexy shit on her, and ain't nobody gonna find your body in the Thames after I shove a crucifix down your throat, Son," he said.
Tucker: "I'd hope you'd let me deal with it myself. I ain't one to foist my problems on others. But I look forward to learnin' from you." He had his mug of coffee raised halfway to his lips and was preparing to finish it off and head home, and then Roman pulled something on him that hadn't been pulled on him in years. The threat. The wave of Tucker's hand wasn't really dismissive, but it was certainly non-threatening. "You ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout from me. She's just a friend of my sister's, is all." Never mind the fact that Mira had also slept with his sister. But his sister was apparently too infatuated with that seemingly homeless boy from Joe's, so it probably didn't matter anymore. "I got a girl of my own who keeps me quite sated and who I've made a large number of very important promises to. Miriam is all yours. Promise." With that, he stood from his seat, held his hand out to shake Roman's. "I'm gonna head on home before the snow comes in, yeah?" There was a pause. "I don't suppose you're on your way to see her? 'Cause if you are and you're headin' towards Shepherd University, could I trouble you for a lift?"
Roman: Roman had some catfish connections down below that would be more than happy for a free meal. The kid was kinda thin, but he'd provide enough of a treat if he needed to dispose of him. He eyed him for a moment as if trying to decide if he was telling the truth or not. From what he could tell, he was. And if this trust bit him in the ass, he would have no problem disposing of Tucker immediately. Roman stood as well and reached out to shake Tucker's hand. "Headin'there now, actually. You can hitch a ride with me," he agreed. The pea coat and scarf were put back on, and his gloves were tugged out of his pockets to pull onto his hands. Button, button, button, and they were ready to go. Now, despite his propensity to show up in cars that weren't exactly his, Roman pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. It wasn't a vehicle you saw in London or Britain at all, but when you had cold hard cash, there was a lot you could get imported. As if Tucker couldn't guess, the vehicle that belonged to the naga was a large, black, lifted truck. Now, here was where the big bucks had come in. He'd paid to have it custom built so that the driver's side was properly European, while everything else was distinctly American. "Hop on in," he said to the cambion after clicking the little alarm button, making the truck beep twice and the lights flash to signify that the alarm was turned off. Tucker would have to climb. Good thing there was a place for his feet to grab hold of, huh?