[NOPE, there's always pillaging. Sorry, it's part of the deal.]
Don't get your knickers in a twist, mate, Capitan Fuckall over there was supposed to tell you about it. You know what he and his boys have been doing instead? Fuckall.
[He doesn't get paid enough for this, really. He's been running interference between the camp and the the locals, he's been trying and failing to do his own job, and now he's getting yelled at for it. Wouldn't it kill Adler to at least appreciate an ounce of what's going on down here, while he's off drinking champagne with Canadians?
Christ, he needs a fag. Hold on, Rafe, Harry's holding the phone out so he can talk to one of the grad student volunteers.]
Hold on—Catherine. Catherine, love, you have a...oh, lovely. [There's the sound of a lighter flicking to life.] You're an angel. Anyway, the faster you get here, the better. They don't appreciate us digging up their ruins, go figure. Greedy bastards, want all this dust and bones for themselves.
[ He's gonna whack you across the knuckles, fucking thief. ]
Yeah, the difference between you and Rivera? I left you in charge. I was trusting you to actually stay on top of things and keep me in the fucking loop.
[ Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rafe exhales forcefully and waits for Flynn to get back on track after his nicotine fix. The only reason he isn't there right now is he'd procrastinated enough already that any more and it'd be a lawsuit that'd tangle him up even further. Which, granted, bit him in the ass now but given Murphy's propensities, shit would only happen when he wasn't there, whenever that was.
That he was fool enough to put his faith in Harry Flynn was his own damn fault. ]
Already told you, I'm getting there fast as I can.
No, the difference between me and that overgrown weasel is that he's got a squad of other overgrown animals with automatic weaponry that only listen to him.
[Mmmm, yes, there's that headache again, right behind his eyes.]
Look, what we need is a new security team. He barely listens to you, anyway, I don't doubt if we find it that he'll try to fuck us all over. [He snorts.] Very badly, but whatever. A thousand monkeys on a thousand typewriters can still shoot someone in the gut.
[ No, this is Rafe's migraine. Get your own. Rude. ]
Watch that pot calling the weasel black. [ But it's clearly a knee-jerk barb, given the silence that follows as he considers what Harry's said. ] ...You think he'll be satisfied with a "screw-you" flavored severance package? Or—
[ It's a small excavation with a lot of bullets apparently flying around. Not Rafe's preferred method of dealing with people but when it comes to fuckwits with too many guns to their name, you got to know when to hold and when to fold them. Fold here defined as a possible bullet to the knee. ]
[Harry takes a long, long drag on his cigarette, considering the options. Truthfully, he doesn't care what happens to the crew as long as they get out of his hair. His preference is usually to land someone in prison where it's guaranteed they'll be out of the way, but in this instance it's not so easy.]
All I'm saying is it wouldn't be terribly surprising if a few accidents happened because of all this gross negligence. Someone could get shot, again.
[Oh, god, please let him shoot the bastard right in the arse, please.]
[ That isn't an outright no to what Harry isn't outright asking. Accidents will happen! At least as far as the security force goes, the actual crew hasn't done him any ill in any way. They're just professionals trying to get a day's work in. Maybe not an honest day's work, but let's not split hairs.
...hold the fuck up, though. ]
"Again"? What the hell is that, again? Did somebody already get hit down there?
[Harey had figured the whole “the locals are shooting" had implied some injuries, but he supposes sometimes you have to spell everything out for Adler or else he makes it your problem.
But what else is new?]
Just a few of his men, no one important. I nearly got grazed but I hit the ground at the right time. [He sounds a little miffed, not at all like a man who had a brush with death.] Which is why, going back to our earlier conversation, I think I deserve a little bit of fun.
[ Contrary to popular theories, Rafe Adler does not know everything the moment it happens. It's an annoyance he still is trying to find a workaround for but in the meantime, yes, some things need to actually be articulated rather than taken as assumptions. There's a whole saying about doing so and what it makes you.
But if it's just Rivera's getting theirs, well. Maybe that should've been incentive enough to get something done. ]
All right, that's— It isn't ideal, but at least the actual crew hasn't taken any... [ An exasperated sigh because thank you, Harry's reptile brain, for not sticking to any point ever. ] Shit. Once this mess is cleaned up. You'll get your fun.
[See, is it that hard to appreciate what he does just a little bit? Harry grins toothily into his phone, and winks at Catherine kneeling in the dirt next to him. ]
I'll also take a bottle of good whiskey and a carton of cigarettes. We're running low.
[Mostly because he's been sharing for favors, because if it's going to feel like a prison they might as well have a barter system like one.]
[ Harry gets plenty of appreciation, in the form of his paycheck and Rafe's (admittedly rare) endorsements. The sex is just a bonus.
Start counting down until he finds out about Catherine and arranges for her to be stationed at a slightly less dangerous posting. In another hemisphere, maybe.
The jet is almost ready to leave, and it'll cut the phone conversation short, but he can never bring himself to hang up first. Not without a decent exit line, anyway. He'll keep it going until takeoff. Whatever. ]
I'm flying in from Canada, not doing a run to the corner store. How the hell do you manage to run out with bimonthly supply drops? [ It's not a prison, stop making eyes at people in the commissary like a wannabe kingpin. ] You'd do better without those fucking cigarettes anyway.
[Only when Rafe gets over himself. So, no, never.]
What can I tell you, these archeologists smoke like bleeding chimneys. And with bullets flying, what else are we going to do?
[He doesn't disagree that he'd be better off, though. His mum shares the sentiment, always throwing his packs away when she snoops in his things. It would certainly be easier to do his free climbing. But they'll pry his lighter from his cold, dead, cancer riddled hands one day and he's fine with it. A bullet will probably find him first, regardless.]
You could cut the tension with a knife 'round here, it just helps.
[ He has nothing to get over!! He's perfectly fine, thanks very much. Doesn't need a whit of validation from anybody. Whatever. ]
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say anything without a risk for carcinogens.
[ Given Harry's inimitable talent for making friends, Rafe can't argue that point. The only question's whether the bullet will be friendly fire or no. ]
Given the amount of brain cells around that place, can nobody put two together and find something productive inst—
[ Please return all tray tables to their upright positions and please observe the seatbelt signs until your captain indicates otherwise. ]
[He hears the roar of engines in the background and sighs. Alright, countdown to cleanup begins now, thank christ. He takes a long drag, and breaths a sigh of relief.]
Sounds like you're about to lift off. I'll be waiting at the camp entrance when you touch down. Save be some of those little biscuits, would you?
[And with that, Harry hits end call. He looks down at Catherine, who looks up and grins. He's got a few hours before the boss gets here, so first things first he'll get a little athletic stress relief in the showers. He'll need it, because later Captain Fuckall is going to have an unfortunate run-in with some locals very well hidden in the trees.
By the time Rafe touches down, the situation is this: head of security has two slugs in his arse and one in the shoulder, and a few of his men have more minor wounds. Harry himself just has an red mark right above his left nipple, but no one else knows about that. Harry lounges in a jeep where all of the dig traffic comes in and out, fiddling with his lighter absently. Hopefully this time tomorrow he'll actually have a use around here besides "damage control". Nothing scares things straight like Rafe Adler.]
[ There's a text and a voicemail when Rafe comes back down to earth. A text from Harry that mentions some unfortunate new developments re: Rivera; a voicemail from Rivera stating that everything is under control and to inquire when Rafe will be returning for "optimum security measures." He can just imagine the scramble that begins when he shoots back a text telling them ETA in forty minutes, don't bother sending an escort.
God, there's nothing like the cat coming back to catch the mice in the act to clean house.
He picks up a driver by the airfield, pays him off and sends him back the way they'd come once he sees Flynn in one of their own vehicles. Slinging his duffel into the back and himself into the passenger side, he arches an eyebrow past his sunglasses. Shades are the only concession he makes, though, sticking to his usual dark greys and blacks even with the tropic sunshine beating down. ]
I heard there was another incident after I went wheels up.
[ A slow, not-at-all-nice smile curls at the corner of his mouth. ]
[As soon as Rafe throws his bag into the back, they're off and tearing along the pitted, winding road that leads back to camp. It's not nearly as sweltering as it was earlier in the day, but still bad enough that Harry's found a pair of shorts. His kind were not bred to withstand these temperatures, and so if he doesn't have to be in jeans? Fuck it. He won't die of heat stroke, nope.
Harry meets Rafe's not-so-nice smile with a sharp-toothed one of his own. He’s proud of the whole production, even have himself a few scratches to make it look like he ran for cover from the rain of bullets . No one even suspected he was the one shooting.]
Oh, yeah, it's a wonder it hadn't happened sooner. Just terrible, blood everywhere. [He laughs, scooching his sunglasses up his impressive nose with one finger.] They dug out Rivera's bullets, but they couldn't find the painkillers. Odd, that.
[ Maybe he ought to reevaluate just how attractive that nasty grin is on Flynn, at least when not directed at his expense. Then again that would require a certain amount of shame on Rafe's part and everyone in this car knows better on that front.
The jeep may bounce and jar as they drive but even so he's more relaxed here and now than he was in climate controlled leather upholstery. The sheer fact of having boots on the ground, hands on the situation... That's all he needed. Plus the knowledge that Captain Fuckall got a fair comeuppance for pissing around the job. ]
Can imagine this place went up like a kicked anthill when he realized I was on the way.
[For a man who's had sex in the last eight hours, Harry sure does feel something when he eyes Rafe from the corner of his eye. The shades hide it, at least, but...hm.]
Oh, I sent out word to everyone but security. It was already a bloody shitshow from the, ah, ambush. I think they shat a collective brick. Dig team is in order, though.
[Cathy has been so useful for so many reasons, but disseminating information without actually doing it is up there on that list. Luckily, language barriers already split the crew, so it was child's play to keep security out of the loop. All he can hope is things go easy from now on, and no actual ambushes happen while he's out.
But enough about business. Business can wait the fifteen minute drive.]
D'you get me those biscuits and whiskey I asked for?
[ That's not too much of a surprise. Harry could feel something waiting for minute rice to cook. ]
Glad to hear something's running smoothly down here.
[ His local contact will put out a feeler for the faction that's taken issue with them, and in another couple hours will tell them what it'll take to pave the way. Money, favors, or in the case of neither of those, more bullets. Whatever it takes, the situation ought to be resolved in twenty-four hours, thirty-six at the outside.
Rolling his eyes at the request, he can't help a snort. ]
I fly private, Harry, I don't stock airline food for myself. [ However that doesn't speak to the bottle he'd picked up in town before coming out here. ] Told you already. You'll get your fun once this gets cleaned up.
I'm not asking for fun, just something to smooth the edges off a little. It's been madness, while you've been off doing lines and shagging nines.
[Harry laughs to himself, at that image. He's never seen Rafe snort anything before, but he's also never seen him out doing things for his actual business. Those types, the CEOs and CFOs and C3POs, they're all that type, right? Champagne and expensive girls and good coke.
Harry's never liked liked champagne, anyway.
After a moment, Harry's laugh fades off into the silence, and then a thought hits him. Nothing serious, just genuine curiosity. Maybe something else, but mostly he just wants to know.]
So who were you chatting up? Some model? An heiress?
[ Glaciers move faster than Rafe does, that's how slowly he turns his head to stare at Harry before he echoes: ]
"Doing lines and shagging nines"? What fish and chips fortune cookie did you pull that out of? Jesus.
[ How everyone takes such an asinine view of his day job, he has no clue. Maybe it's a lack of imagination that paints him as some deleted scene from American Psycho. The reality is parsing through pages upon pages of legalese then haggling with lawyers about it, cajoling stubborn interests when all you want to do is break an arm, reading reports upon reports upon reports to catch a discrepancy — nowhere near so exciting as Flynn would think.
There are times he considers dragging Harry along just so he can appreciate the headaches Rafe gets from that shit, but then he realizes what a fucking awful idea that would be and pops another Advil. ]
Corporate officer from across the aisle.
[ Raquelle had been persistent, and eloquent in the nastiest ways possible. Gold star for the effort, at least. ]
[Truthfully, it's only because Harry has had the honor to see Rafe lose his cool that he has the notion of him as Patrick Bateman. He saw him shoot a man once who wouldn't stop singing the praises of a man neither of them would really like to think about ever again. He understood it, yeah, but he wasn't going to shoot the poor bastard for running his mouth.
Besides, the only work that Rafe does that's of any value, in Harry's humble opinion, is this. This is tangible. You can hold it. There's no worth in papers and numbers.]
How was she, then?
[Flynn leers over his dark glasses and knocks his knee against Rafe's, a little gesture of go on then. He's got no reason to believe his boss hasn't been out with other people all this time. Harry certainly has, but mostly because he has to get what he wants from somewhere.]
You look tense, so I'm guessing not exactly passing marks.
[ First off, he'd told the moron to shut up three times before pulling the gun. Second, he shot him in the kneecap — which still wasn't the best option, he could admit that in hindsight, but it's not as if he killed the guy. Geez.
Third, it's the corporate hackery is what makes all of this possible. What allows Rafe to choose where to dig and when and without bowing and scraping to someone's purse strings noosed around his neck. Never mind that since taking the reins... He's good at it, still surprised by the discovery. Enjoys it even, on a good day when he can outmaneuver the entire field and come out on top. ...Rafe tries not to think about those days too much. ]
I'm tense because there's still a possibility of bullets flying until this gets sewn up, [ comes the reminder in a specific flavor of "duh" as he fishes out his phone to skim a half dozen new messages from Rivera. Distractedly, ] Besides, never got around to it. I was busy.
[ Which is...nominally true. He hadn't been sitting on his ass with caviar and Moët for three days. But it'd been three days and if he tried to say that work precluded pleasure then Harry wouldn't be in the jeep with him right now. At close of business, it'd just seemed superfluous to bother and if he ended up horny then there was always Flynn waiting for him. Logic, cold and simple. ]
[Maybe it's because he's been sleeping with other people, but Harry just assumes Rafe has been sleeping around out of the gate. Why wouldn't he? He's open about Harry's deficiencies constantly, he's one of the world's most eligible bachelors. When they go out to a club or a pub he's always covered in women and men until he shoves them away.
And Adler is greedy. So why wouldn't he? ]
Shite luck, mate. If her texts were as good as you said they were, I'm sad for you.
[Which is...kind of true. There's a part of him that's glad she didn't get her claws in him, and he's not terribly interested in understanding why. Maybe just regular contrariness, more of that need to see Rafe fall flat on his face. That's all.
He turns his attention back to the rough path ahead of them, pushing his glasses up to the top of his head. It's dimmer with the tree cover, easier to see the road this way. Problem is he can't hide his occasional looks over at Adler. Hmn.]
[ If Harry ever let up on his own critiques then maybe Rafe would do the same but since he won't, the world will never know. ]
I'm not too broken up about it. [ A rueful smirk as he leaves the last few replies on read for however long it'll take Raquelle to find out he's gone. ] I've rarely met someone who matches their own hype.
[ Sweat starts to prickle along the back of his neck as he tilts his head, eyes closed behind his aviators as if he hadn't a care in the world. Right now, he doesn't. He's back where he belongs. Out in the field and free as a bird.
Minus where Harry keeps staring. ]
Either say what's on your mind or keep your eyes on the road.
And here he thought he was being subtle about his glances. Fuck. ]
Just looking at you, sweetheart, don't get so flustered.
[He smirks, but turns his attention back to the rutted road in front of them. They drive like this for about ten minutes, Harry unusually silent for...you know, Harry. Something about that woman was sticking in his head, and he's not sure why. He doesn't really care. He doesn't. But why is the thought of her sitting up there alone with unanswered texts making him smirk?
While he thinks, he rubs idly ay the mark Cathy left on his chest. Christ, she got him good. It's still throbbing a little, but he doesn't exactly mind it. She could try to not dry blood next time, though.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chardismastic) wrote2016-08-08 05:33 pm
no subject
Don't get your knickers in a twist, mate, Capitan Fuckall over there was supposed to tell you about it. You know what he and his boys have been doing instead? Fuckall.
[He doesn't get paid enough for this, really. He's been running interference between the camp and the the locals, he's been trying and failing to do his own job, and now he's getting yelled at for it. Wouldn't it kill Adler to at least appreciate an ounce of what's going on down here, while he's off drinking champagne with Canadians?
Christ, he needs a fag. Hold on, Rafe, Harry's holding the phone out so he can talk to one of the grad student volunteers.]
Hold on—Catherine. Catherine, love, you have a...oh, lovely. [There's the sound of a lighter flicking to life.] You're an angel. Anyway, the faster you get here, the better. They don't appreciate us digging up their ruins, go figure. Greedy bastards, want all this dust and bones for themselves.
no subject
Yeah, the difference between you and Rivera? I left you in charge. I was trusting you to actually stay on top of things and keep me in the fucking loop.
[ Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rafe exhales forcefully and waits for Flynn to get back on track after his nicotine fix. The only reason he isn't there right now is he'd procrastinated enough already that any more and it'd be a lawsuit that'd tangle him up even further. Which, granted, bit him in the ass now but given Murphy's propensities, shit would only happen when he wasn't there, whenever that was.
That he was fool enough to put his faith in Harry Flynn was his own damn fault. ]
Already told you, I'm getting there fast as I can.
no subject
[Mmmm, yes, there's that headache again, right behind his eyes.]
Look, what we need is a new security team. He barely listens to you, anyway, I don't doubt if we find it that he'll try to fuck us all over. [He snorts.] Very badly, but whatever. A thousand monkeys on a thousand typewriters can still shoot someone in the gut.
no subject
Watch that pot calling the weasel black. [ But it's clearly a knee-jerk barb, given the silence that follows as he considers what Harry's said. ] ...You think he'll be satisfied with a "screw-you" flavored severance package? Or—
[ It's a small excavation with a lot of bullets apparently flying around. Not Rafe's preferred method of dealing with people but when it comes to fuckwits with too many guns to their name, you got to know when to hold and when to fold them. Fold here defined as a possible bullet to the knee. ]
no subject
All I'm saying is it wouldn't be terribly surprising if a few accidents happened because of all this gross negligence. Someone could get shot, again.
[Oh, god, please let him shoot the bastard right in the arse, please.]
no subject
[ That isn't an outright no to what Harry isn't outright asking. Accidents will happen! At least as far as the security force goes, the actual crew hasn't done him any ill in any way. They're just professionals trying to get a day's work in. Maybe not an honest day's work, but let's not split hairs.
...hold the fuck up, though. ]
"Again"? What the hell is that, again? Did somebody already get hit down there?
no subject
[Harey had figured the whole “the locals are shooting" had implied some injuries, but he supposes sometimes you have to spell everything out for Adler or else he makes it your problem.
But what else is new?]
Just a few of his men, no one important. I nearly got grazed but I hit the ground at the right time. [He sounds a little miffed, not at all like a man who had a brush with death.] Which is why, going back to our earlier conversation, I think I deserve a little bit of fun.
no subject
But if it's just Rivera's getting theirs, well. Maybe that should've been incentive enough to get something done. ]
All right, that's— It isn't ideal, but at least the actual crew hasn't taken any... [ An exasperated sigh because thank you, Harry's reptile brain, for not sticking to any point ever. ] Shit. Once this mess is cleaned up. You'll get your fun.
no subject
[See, is it that hard to appreciate what he does just a little bit? Harry grins toothily into his phone, and winks at Catherine kneeling in the dirt next to him. ]
I'll also take a bottle of good whiskey and a carton of cigarettes. We're running low.
[Mostly because he's been sharing for favors, because if it's going to feel like a prison they might as well have a barter system like one.]
no subject
[ Harry gets plenty of appreciation, in the form of his paycheck and Rafe's (admittedly rare) endorsements. The sex is just a bonus.
Start counting down until he finds out about Catherine and arranges for her to be stationed at a slightly less dangerous posting. In another hemisphere, maybe.The jet is almost ready to leave, and it'll cut the phone conversation short, but he can never bring himself to hang up first. Not without a decent exit line, anyway. He'll keep it going until takeoff. Whatever. ]
I'm flying in from Canada, not doing a run to the corner store. How the hell do you manage to run out with bimonthly supply drops? [ It's not a prison, stop making eyes at people in the commissary like a wannabe kingpin. ] You'd do better without those fucking cigarettes anyway.
no subject
What can I tell you, these archeologists smoke like bleeding chimneys. And with bullets flying, what else are we going to do?
[He doesn't disagree that he'd be better off, though. His mum shares the sentiment, always throwing his packs away when she snoops in his things. It would certainly be easier to do his free climbing. But they'll pry his lighter from his cold, dead, cancer riddled hands one day and he's fine with it. A bullet will probably find him first, regardless.]
You could cut the tension with a knife 'round here, it just helps.
no subject
I'm gonna go out on a limb and say anything without a risk for carcinogens.
[ Given Harry's inimitable talent for making friends, Rafe can't argue that point. The only question's whether the bullet will be friendly fire or no. ]
Given the amount of brain cells around that place, can nobody put two together and find something productive inst—
[ Please return all tray tables to their upright positions and please observe the seatbelt signs until your captain indicates otherwise. ]
Fuck this wasn't in my inbox so so
[He hears the roar of engines in the background and sighs. Alright, countdown to cleanup begins now, thank christ. He takes a long drag, and breaths a sigh of relief.]
Sounds like you're about to lift off. I'll be waiting at the camp entrance when you touch down. Save be some of those little biscuits, would you?
[And with that, Harry hits end call. He looks down at Catherine, who looks up and grins. He's got a few hours before the boss gets here, so first things first he'll get a little athletic stress relief in the showers. He'll need it, because later Captain Fuckall is going to have an unfortunate run-in with some locals very well hidden in the trees.
By the time Rafe touches down, the situation is this: head of security has two slugs in his arse and one in the shoulder, and a few of his men have more minor wounds. Harry himself just has an red mark right above his left nipple, but no one else knows about that. Harry lounges in a jeep where all of the dig traffic comes in and out, fiddling with his lighter absently. Hopefully this time tomorrow he'll actually have a use around here besides "damage control". Nothing scares things straight like Rafe Adler.]
slams it back into your inbox
God, there's nothing like the cat coming back to catch the mice in the act to clean house.
He picks up a driver by the airfield, pays him off and sends him back the way they'd come once he sees Flynn in one of their own vehicles. Slinging his duffel into the back and himself into the passenger side, he arches an eyebrow past his sunglasses. Shades are the only concession he makes, though, sticking to his usual dark greys and blacks even with the tropic sunshine beating down. ]
I heard there was another incident after I went wheels up.
[ A slow, not-at-all-nice smile curls at the corner of his mouth. ]
Ilu
Harry meets Rafe's not-so-nice smile with a sharp-toothed one of his own. He’s proud of the whole production, even have himself a few scratches to make it look like he ran for cover from the rain of bullets . No one even suspected he was the one shooting.]
Oh, yeah, it's a wonder it hadn't happened sooner. Just terrible, blood everywhere. [He laughs, scooching his sunglasses up his impressive nose with one finger.] They dug out Rivera's bullets, but they couldn't find the painkillers. Odd, that.
smooch smooch
[ Maybe he ought to reevaluate just how attractive that nasty grin is on Flynn, at least when not directed at his expense. Then again that would require a certain amount of shame on Rafe's part and everyone in this car knows better on that front.
The jeep may bounce and jar as they drive but even so he's more relaxed here and now than he was in climate controlled leather upholstery. The sheer fact of having boots on the ground, hands on the situation... That's all he needed. Plus the knowledge that Captain Fuckall got a fair comeuppance for pissing around the job. ]
Can imagine this place went up like a kicked anthill when he realized I was on the way.
no subject
Oh, I sent out word to everyone but security. It was already a bloody shitshow from the, ah, ambush. I think they shat a collective brick. Dig team is in order, though.
[Cathy has been so useful for so many reasons, but disseminating information without actually doing it is up there on that list. Luckily, language barriers already split the crew, so it was child's play to keep security out of the loop. All he can hope is things go easy from now on, and no actual ambushes happen while he's out.
But enough about business. Business can wait the fifteen minute drive.]
D'you get me those biscuits and whiskey I asked for?
no subject
Glad to hear something's running smoothly down here.
[ His local contact will put out a feeler for the faction that's taken issue with them, and in another couple hours will tell them what it'll take to pave the way. Money, favors, or in the case of neither of those, more bullets. Whatever it takes, the situation ought to be resolved in twenty-four hours, thirty-six at the outside.
Rolling his eyes at the request, he can't help a snort. ]
I fly private, Harry, I don't stock airline food for myself. [ However that doesn't speak to the bottle he'd picked up in town before coming out here. ] Told you already. You'll get your fun once this gets cleaned up.
no subject
[Harry laughs to himself, at that image. He's never seen Rafe snort anything before, but he's also never seen him out doing things for his actual business. Those types, the CEOs and CFOs and C3POs, they're all that type, right? Champagne and expensive girls and good coke.
Harry's never liked liked champagne, anyway.
After a moment, Harry's laugh fades off into the silence, and then a thought hits him. Nothing serious, just genuine curiosity. Maybe something else, but mostly he just wants to know.]
So who were you chatting up? Some model? An heiress?
no subject
"Doing lines and shagging nines"? What fish and chips fortune cookie did you pull that out of? Jesus.
[ How everyone takes such an asinine view of his day job, he has no clue. Maybe it's a lack of imagination that paints him as some deleted scene from American Psycho. The reality is parsing through pages upon pages of legalese then haggling with lawyers about it, cajoling stubborn interests when all you want to do is break an arm, reading reports upon reports upon reports to catch a discrepancy — nowhere near so exciting as Flynn would think.
There are times he considers dragging Harry along just so he can appreciate the headaches Rafe gets from that shit, but then he realizes what a fucking awful idea that would be and pops another Advil. ]
Corporate officer from across the aisle.
[ Raquelle had been persistent, and eloquent in the nastiest ways possible. Gold star for the effort, at least. ]
no subject
Besides, the only work that Rafe does that's of any value, in Harry's humble opinion, is this. This is tangible. You can hold it. There's no worth in papers and numbers.]
How was she, then?
[Flynn leers over his dark glasses and knocks his knee against Rafe's, a little gesture of go on then. He's got no reason to believe his boss hasn't been out with other people all this time. Harry certainly has, but mostly because he has to get what he wants from somewhere.]
You look tense, so I'm guessing not exactly passing marks.
no subject
Third, it's the corporate hackery is what makes all of this possible. What allows Rafe to choose where to dig and when and without bowing and scraping to someone's purse strings noosed around his neck. Never mind that since taking the reins... He's good at it, still surprised by the discovery. Enjoys it even, on a good day when he can outmaneuver the entire field and come out on top. ...Rafe tries not to think about those days too much. ]
I'm tense because there's still a possibility of bullets flying until this gets sewn up, [ comes the reminder in a specific flavor of "duh" as he fishes out his phone to skim a half dozen new messages from Rivera. Distractedly, ] Besides, never got around to it. I was busy.
[ Which is...nominally true. He hadn't been sitting on his ass with caviar and Moët for three days. But it'd been three days and if he tried to say that work precluded pleasure then Harry wouldn't be in the jeep with him right now. At close of business, it'd just seemed superfluous to bother and if he ended up horny then there was always Flynn waiting for him. Logic, cold and simple. ]
no subject
And Adler is greedy. So why wouldn't he? ]
Shite luck, mate. If her texts were as good as you said they were, I'm sad for you.
[Which is...kind of true. There's a part of him that's glad she didn't get her claws in him, and he's not terribly interested in understanding why. Maybe just regular contrariness, more of that need to see Rafe fall flat on his face. That's all.
He turns his attention back to the rough path ahead of them, pushing his glasses up to the top of his head. It's dimmer with the tree cover, easier to see the road this way. Problem is he can't hide his occasional looks over at Adler. Hmn.]
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I'm not too broken up about it. [ A rueful smirk as he leaves the last few replies on read for however long it'll take Raquelle to find out he's gone. ] I've rarely met someone who matches their own hype.
[ Sweat starts to prickle along the back of his neck as he tilts his head, eyes closed behind his aviators as if he hadn't a care in the world. Right now, he doesn't. He's back where he belongs. Out in the field and free as a bird.
Minus where Harry keeps staring. ]
Either say what's on your mind or keep your eyes on the road.
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And here he thought he was being subtle about his glances. Fuck. ]
Just looking at you, sweetheart, don't get so flustered.
[He smirks, but turns his attention back to the rutted road in front of them. They drive like this for about ten minutes, Harry unusually silent for...you know, Harry. Something about that woman was sticking in his head, and he's not sure why. He doesn't really care. He doesn't. But why is the thought of her sitting up there alone with unanswered texts making him smirk?
While he thinks, he rubs idly ay the mark Cathy left on his chest. Christ, she got him good. It's still throbbing a little, but he doesn't exactly mind it. She could try to not dry blood next time, though.]
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