tampered | Come and Knock On Our Door

Current Mood: moody
Current Music: A Matter of Trust-Billy Joel

Come and Knock On Our Door

When; Aug. 4, evening
Rating; R (adult language)
Characters; Nicholas Brocklehurst

razrsharp, Elle Driver

venomouselle and Christopher Styles

under_secretary
Summary; Evening tea for the Brit, coffee for the Americans and general awkwardness for everyone.

Elle Driver was early. She always was. There were always benefits to be obtained. Currently the goal was to get the outside table that wasn't close to the uneven tiles of the outdoor seating of Cafe Juliet. Taking a seat, she wondered if he would show up. Two nights she spent enjoying her coffee and night air alone. With being early right now, Elle had the capacity to ready her thoughts. Sure enough she wasn't pleased but biting off the man's head was not on the agenda.

He will show up she decided, removing the first Red Apple cigarette from the box.

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"Did he?" The set line her lips at been sitting in loosened. She ordered her coffee black, no frills. "A reliable man if there ever was one, but I don't suppose I need to go telling you. Friends from back home right?"

"Colleagues, if you will," Brocklehurst clarified casually. "Working over pond relations," he grinned.

By the Pond he meant the Atlantic Ocean. Nicholas Brocklehurst was clearly the odd man out of the trio, being of British descent. He'd spent most of his life in London as well, traveling out of the country only on missions. Washington, D.C. was no exception. To think, he'd met his American acquaintance as an operative. The blonde shook his head.

"Former colleagues, after my superior retired from his post."

Christopher nodded in agreement. "Our superiors often met, so it was natural I meet Brocklehurst."

It was more intricate then that, really - he wouldn't even have noticed the other man at that first meeting because he spent parties being introduced to people and Brocklehurst's position wasn't one that demanded immediate attention.

"So how did you meet Brocklehurst, Miss Driver?"

"Ah. I see." She didn't of course, but Elle was aware that there were a few things written in between the lines. One-eye and a rather skewed perception of the world would allow her to read in time.

"Brocklehurst and I began to talk over the network. The usual way you could say with this place."

"One of the first people I ever met in this place," Brocklehurst nodded with another smile. "And I don't regret it. You've been tremendous help, Ms. Driver, and good company might I add," he turned his expression to Christopher.

He could read between the lines as well, but it was in his amiable nature to charm the woman. She was confident, entertaining, and kind enough not to kill him over their opposing professions. While neither of them had ever admitted to being part of MI6 in his case and the underground hitman network in hers, both of them certainly abided by their respective codes.

Nicholas also remembered she had a condition... It pulled at his sympathy and a particular kindness towards women.

Christopher saw what was etched in the way Brocklehurst looked at him and took a note of it; the woman was smart, he knew that, but he hadn't realized the depth of Brocklehurst's feelings towards her.

He drank his espresso and pondered what to say next. Lying would be easy, but Nicholas would catch him in it and he wasn't willing to go there. He remembered the man who had spoken to him the night before, and decided to keep the banter light, and Elle could draw her own conclusions as they came to her.

"I hear you've been here for awhile. Any invaluable advice?"

Brocklehurst earned the smile Elle wore with the right words. She could always speak to him privately about that matter of being out of the loop for two nights, couldn't she? "I do what I can. It's rather pleasant to be of assistance to an attentive party. Usually I'm at the disadvantage here."

Oh there were an unpleasant number of them around. Elle turned her attention to Christopher, leaving her newly arrived coffee alone to cool to finish off her first cigarette. "I think I should write some sort of book with the growing list of lessons learned here. Among the top few is that one should always keep in mind that anything is possible within the City. Werewolves, vampires, wizards...and that's not including the curses."

While Elle and Christopher shared words, the man oh so conveniently occupied his mouth with his newly arrived tea. It was piping hot but nothing a man of his training and caliber couldn't handle. Nicholas added honey to sweeten it, only two drizzles, then took a sip. He intended for the blonde and brunette to become acquainted with each other, as an asset.

The words made sense, and they were there. It was training that made Styles keep his open, friendly smile.

Underneath the thoughts were brewing - werewolves, vampires, wizards, men with teeth for eyes; anything was possible, and the woman in front of him had gone through most of it.

"I don't know how much use I can be around any of those things, but if you need assistance, don't hesitate to call me."

Elle could sense the large degree of suspended disbelief in the air. There was a time when she was like that. A stab of envy struck . Was there a way a person could prepare for life in the City? All of this was normal. She was a werewolf, kept company with vampires, magic users and a man with teeth for eyes.

If you need assistance, he said. Elle did her best to lighten the snort that came in response to that. What could he do? Christopher Styles, as far as she knew, was just as weak and cornered as she in conflict as herself if not more so. "Thank you. I appreciate the gesture," she said.

Sparing a glance to Nicholas and his tea cup she cleared her throat. "How did you both meet?"

Oh was it his turn to talk again? His blue gaze glanced over the rim of his tea cup. Another sip, then he set the cup down on the table in a casual manner. Always casual and professional.

"My superior met with his to discuss the United States' plan to invade Iraq and include British military support," he smiled. Never mind how Mark Brydon and Lynne Warner disagreed over the proper course of procedure.

Well that was simplifying it. No need to mention how Styles had shot Brocklehurst the look and how from there it had gone on to the normal kind of etiquette of exchanging cards and a not-so-normal phone call later that week.

"I worked for the Department of Defense," Styles clarified.

"Sounds like some pretty serious shit, funny how people are just thrown together by catastrophe," she lifted her cup of coffee to sip. "The Middle East really is such a tricky place. I'm convinced all manner of business runs into that religious problem. I suppose the same can be said for the US, even in my line of work."

Elle didn't drink further, the cup was still too hot. "Heh, I bet you both have had a hell of a time with that then."

"It's an economic dilemma," said Brocklehurst with another sip of tea, his gaze cool and directed at neither Styles nor Driver.

But now they were getting into a more intense subject matter. He and Christopher had always held their differing political beliefs, but had managed to... co-exist. Christ, their principles... Even when the man was turning a blind eye to massive civilian death the Englishman had come to protect him. His look shifted to the brunette briefly. Styles was a Republican, but he was no inept religious zealot.

Styles thought about his stance before he opened his mouth. It was easy to spout Lynne-approved nonsense about American safety and interests; he wasn't about to go there. Best say something without saying anything at all.

"It's really an issue that needed a pressing resolution. I'm not going to say that the outcome was predicted, but it was a risk, of course."

Narrow it down, he thought to himself.

"But I suppose here it's really not an issue."

"It's a mess. That's all I can say. I'm happy to say I had no direct part in it and I don't have to come up with a way to clean it up." Elle crushed the cigarette into the round, gray plastic ashtray on the table.

"Nice to be away from big things I suppose. No worries about the IRS, CIA, Internal Affairs...This could be like a vacation for you both." Yes. It was very nice to just step out and stay the same identity for more than a day publicly. For now, all of the fake IDs that had been in her wallet daily once upon a time were in her lingerie drawer.

"You were smooth in the conference room back then too," he remarked to Styles with a subtle smirk, which he hid behind his tea.

"History repeats itself, but it doesn't mean all things in history bear repeating," Brocklehurst added, nodding to Elle. The invasion of Tyrgyzstan was no different, except for the fact that Brydon had uncovered evidence of its US engineering.

Styles tipped his head quickly, as if to better hear the words, then smiled. "True."

He looked down at his espresso cup and wished he had a reason to look at his watch and exclaim a pressing need to be elsewhere. The line of conversation was getting uncomfortable for him; he knew what Brocklehurst was alluding to and he wasn't ready to discuss it.

"Hopefully the situation back home has been resolved," he finally managed; in his head it sounded stuttered and jolting but it came out smooth.

"If it bothers you so much you could always check the damn fountain." She hated that thing. Elle had only gone to look into its seeing waters once. "You'll see what is going on where you are from. Whether or not it is real, that's something else to think about." Boy did this City make her say the most ridiculous things, worse yet was that they were true.

"I'd rather not know if my time on the team was in vain," he grinned at Elle Driver. There was an underlying meaning to that, but he assumed only Christopher would catch it. And when he did he wouldn't explain it to the one-eyed serpent.

Styles laughed it off, "In our line of work, it's probably best I don't know, if I can't do anything about it."

He knew why Brocklehurst didn't want to check the fountain - he knew why he didn't want to check the fountain.

"Ah. Good." The two men in suits were getting along remarkably well for distant co-workers. The assassin could detect that much. Now that her coffee was cooler she drank from the cup deeply.

"Let's see, well. That is all really I can think of for now when it comes to veteran advice to City living. Curses are just something to put up with. They are some sick shit sometimes." The stories she could tell.

"As I've noticed," Brocklehurst said dryly. Even though the network had professed that blob creature hadn't been a curse, it was an act that paralleled biological warfare... in the most B-Rated manner possible. It was both 'sick shit' and an ironic farce.

"Nevertheless, I'm confident with your assistance Christopher Styles will settle in quite readily," Nicholas smiled again, to both blonde and brunette. He secretly liked spilling their need for polite third person nicety into casual conversation. It was another way to nudge Christopher that being 'all business' wasn't always prudent.

Styles nodded and caught the drift. "Thanks for letting me join you, Miss Driver. I really do appreciate it."

He did like Elle Driver; she was confident and smart and obviously a very good person to have on your side. She had the information on the place, with it's strange rule and supernatural events.

"You're welcome." Knowledge was power. True she didn't have control of her lycanthrophy to make it useful and most of the City could use some sort of unearthly magic or power, her new tactic was being knowledgeable. Good so far.

Conversation drifted from one topic to another. The California Mountain Snake found herself more comfortable with her two new friends. They departed for the evening; Elle on her way and the two men on theirs in the same direction. She may have lost her private time with Mr. Brocklehurst, but the assassin would not be discouraged from her pursuits. Getting to know a man as influential as Mr. Styles would be an added bonus.

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