[ 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.]
[ The very idea makes Rafe snort, derisive and dismissive all in one highly unelegant noise. Still. The oddness sticks with him and he appraises Harry out the corner of his eye — not that he bothers being subtle about it. He could be, of course, but there's no reason to hide it.
Flynn's being really weird. Even for a guy who'd played shooting gallery a couple hours ago.
Once they get back on site, Rafe lets him follow along to the outpost's command center. The crisp dressing down he gives Rivera in front of his men is masterpiece theater, scathing and brutal and without Rafe's voice raising a single decibel. Nor when he informs the man — splayed out on his cot, ass in a mortifying sling — that their contract's terminated with no severance, due to a deftly inserted clause the captain'd signed over. The same one that puts him on the spot for covering his men's exit costs in the even of a negligence of duty. The color drains out of his face while Rafe shrugs and exits for his own setup.
Come noon tomorrow, he'll be offering that same contract to the intrepid jackasses who've been aiming at them. Clearly they're more organized and effective than the so-called professionals and once they've got money under their nose, they'll smarten up fast. People always do. ]
I've already sent word around to stick close to the camp until tomorrow night, [ he grunts as he ducks into the tent, arms stretched over his head to work out cabin pressure kinks. ] Hopefully this time day after tomorrow, things can start getting back on track.
[Seeing his enemies fail spectacularly is Harry's #1 pleasure in life, and so seeing Rivera being artfully torn a new arsehole is nearly erotic. Harry watches with barely restrained glee and after Rafe leaves, he leans over the injured man's cot to tell him that, oh, that wasn't the locals. Whoops.
Harry follows Rafe to his tent, unsure if this is going to be a work night or something else. Really, he'd just like go talk new plans and where he can start going into the ruins proper. He wasn't built to oversee archeologists, or security, ot anyone but himself. Christ he can't wait to go back to just caring about himself.]
They're better shots than those bastards back there, at least. [He snorts, heaving himself into a Rafe's desk chair. It's been a long, long day.] and if you pay them enough, I'm sure they won't care we're desecrating graves.
[ Rafe is quick to remind him with a long-suffering sigh. Good lrod. ]
You can check a crypt without stomping through bones and leave enough for the straight-lace crowd to be placated. It just takes a little finesse, if you'd be so inclined for two consecutive minutes.
[ Sure, by and large they were treasure hunters and thieves fallen from the pure faith of archaeology, but that didn't mean they had to be barbarians about it. There are standards and Rafe is ever mindful of them — and will make doubly sure for Harry as well, so long as the dumbass is cutting an Adler paycheck. ]
Get the schematics out.
[ The GPR hadn't yet come through for a more detailed picture before he had had to fly north, and curiosity has been steadily gnawing at him since. And it'll give him a chance to take out the bottle of probably-decent liquor out of his bag before joining Harry at table. ]
[Look, he gets paid to do his thing, not fetch documents. Also, Rafe is closer than he is and hasn't been in a (fake) firefight today. Instead, Harry produces a hip flask from god knows where and takes a long swig. He's not quite sure what's in there, all he knows is it's homebrewed and it's the last of what he had. Damn.
Hopefully he'll have his sight in the morning.]
I get the sneaking suspicion that what we're looking for isn't going to just be there in the dirt. If I may remind you what I'm here for.
Then go get them off the big table while I— [ Yes, some forward-thinking hand has already brought his bag in, where he finds the pisco he'd brought along from the airfield. ] Get glasses.
[ It ought to be enough incentive to get Harry off his ass as he splashes a couple fingers of amber-yellow brandy for each of them. Rafe bites back the sarcasm bubbling in the back of his throat — no, please remind me because I haven't been doing this for ten years already — and shakes his head. One of these days Flynn won't treat him like some wet behind the ears rookie with a thumb up his ass. ]
No shit, Sherlock. But the schematics can give us a little bit more insight as to where we ought to look. A heads-up on any surprises. You know... A general plan of action? Call me crazy but I like to think that sort of thing helps out in the long run.
[There's a few long moments where Harry just stares at the ceiling of the tent, wondering if moving is worth it, but he eventually heaves himself back out of the chair with a tired groan. The brandy certainly is good incentive, and he snags one glass on his way past Rafe to the table.
A moment later, he plops a pile of papers down in front of his boss with a tight smile.]
There you are. [He swallow a mouthful of brandy, closing his eyes while he savours something that wasn't brewed in bottles meth was probably made in.] The findings, a few notes one of the girls took, suggestions. It's all there.
[ Rafe can't help the pleased little smile that plays at the corner of his mouth. Not that he'll rub it in, but getting Flynn to do as he's told is still no small victory and he'll savor it as such. ]
Good. [ And as a reward, he'll even freshen up Harry's glass without prompting. ] Once things are settled, we can grab a couple flashlights and get boots on the ground while the rest of them get back to gridding out within the containing wall over...
[ He spreads the papers out, one hand planted on the desk as he leans and taps a finger on one of the maps. ]
There. Keep them occupied while we find the good stuff. [ A sidelong smirk. ] That is, assuming you can hold out that long.
[Please, smirk it up over there, not like he can't see it and doesn't know what it means. He frowns, but he's not going to refuse the free liquor.
While Rafe plans, Harry hovers just over his left shoulder, nodding and skimming the documents he's already read front to back. It's a good plan, better than his own idea of just doing what needs to be done and letting the profession come in after. The professionals are what give the artefacts value, and if they don't have value they're just pulling rubbish from the ground, aren't they?
He leans over Rafe just a hair more at that question, matching smirk-for-smirk.]
[ There's more to value than just dollar signs but try telling that to Harry Flynn.
Just as there's more to plans than saying "screw it" and jumping in feet first. There must be something about treasure hunters at large, some common allergy to forward thinking— At least among the ones Rafe's known so far. Not that he minds covering the slack. It's another thing he does well, minding the details and watching the angles that others might miss. ]
Just that guys your age can get a little too excited pretty fast. Don't need you blowing your load before we get what we're here for.
[ Harry enjoys the fact he looms over Rafe, takes whatever opportunity he can to crowd him in. Rafe isn't sure when he stopped being annoyed by that, or when it stopped feeling like a lanky British spider breathing down his neck. Now it's simply become another Flynn-ism like the underlying smell of nicotine.
Not that he's come to as genial terms with that, of course. Guy's got to keep some standards. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chardismastic) wrote2016-08-08 05:33 pm
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
[ The very idea makes Rafe snort, derisive and dismissive all in one highly unelegant noise. Still. The oddness sticks with him and he appraises Harry out the corner of his eye — not that he bothers being subtle about it. He could be, of course, but there's no reason to hide it.
Flynn's being really weird. Even for a guy who'd played shooting gallery a couple hours ago.
Once they get back on site, Rafe lets him follow along to the outpost's command center. The crisp dressing down he gives Rivera in front of his men is masterpiece theater, scathing and brutal and without Rafe's voice raising a single decibel. Nor when he informs the man — splayed out on his cot, ass in a mortifying sling — that their contract's terminated with no severance, due to a deftly inserted clause the captain'd signed over. The same one that puts him on the spot for covering his men's exit costs in the even of a negligence of duty. The color drains out of his face while Rafe shrugs and exits for his own setup.
Come noon tomorrow, he'll be offering that same contract to the intrepid jackasses who've been aiming at them. Clearly they're more organized and effective than the so-called professionals and once they've got money under their nose, they'll smarten up fast. People always do. ]
I've already sent word around to stick close to the camp until tomorrow night, [ he grunts as he ducks into the tent, arms stretched over his head to work out cabin pressure kinks. ] Hopefully this time day after tomorrow, things can start getting back on track.
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Harry follows Rafe to his tent, unsure if this is going to be a work night or something else. Really, he'd just like go talk new plans and where he can start going into the ruins proper. He wasn't built to oversee archeologists, or security, ot anyone but himself. Christ he can't wait to go back to just caring about himself.]
They're better shots than those bastards back there, at least. [He snorts, heaving himself into a Rafe's desk chair. It's been a long, long day.] and if you pay them enough, I'm sure they won't care we're desecrating graves.
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[ Rafe is quick to remind him with a long-suffering sigh. Good lrod. ]
You can check a crypt without stomping through bones and leave enough for the straight-lace crowd to be placated. It just takes a little finesse, if you'd be so inclined for two consecutive minutes.
[ Sure, by and large they were treasure hunters and thieves fallen from the pure faith of archaeology, but that didn't mean they had to be barbarians about it. There are standards and Rafe is ever mindful of them — and will make doubly sure for Harry as well, so long as the dumbass is cutting an Adler paycheck. ]
Get the schematics out.
[ The GPR hadn't yet come through for a more detailed picture before he had had to fly north, and curiosity has been steadily gnawing at him since. And it'll give him a chance to take out the bottle of probably-decent liquor out of his bag before joining Harry at table. ]
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[Look, he gets paid to do his thing, not fetch documents. Also, Rafe is closer than he is and hasn't been in a (fake) firefight today. Instead, Harry produces a hip flask from god knows where and takes a long swig. He's not quite sure what's in there, all he knows is it's homebrewed and it's the last of what he had. Damn.
Hopefully he'll have his sight in the morning.]
I get the sneaking suspicion that what we're looking for isn't going to just be there in the dirt. If I may remind you what I'm here for.
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[ It ought to be enough incentive to get Harry off his ass as he splashes a couple fingers of amber-yellow brandy for each of them. Rafe bites back the sarcasm bubbling in the back of his throat — no, please remind me because I haven't been doing this for ten years already — and shakes his head. One of these days Flynn won't treat him like some wet behind the ears rookie with a thumb up his ass. ]
No shit, Sherlock. But the schematics can give us a little bit more insight as to where we ought to look. A heads-up on any surprises. You know... A general plan of action? Call me crazy but I like to think that sort of thing helps out in the long run.
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A moment later, he plops a pile of papers down in front of his boss with a tight smile.]
There you are. [He swallow a mouthful of brandy, closing his eyes while he savours something that wasn't brewed in bottles meth was probably made in.] The findings, a few notes one of the girls took, suggestions. It's all there.
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Good. [ And as a reward, he'll even freshen up Harry's glass without prompting. ] Once things are settled, we can grab a couple flashlights and get boots on the ground while the rest of them get back to gridding out within the containing wall over...
[ He spreads the papers out, one hand planted on the desk as he leans and taps a finger on one of the maps. ]
There. Keep them occupied while we find the good stuff. [ A sidelong smirk. ] That is, assuming you can hold out that long.
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While Rafe plans, Harry hovers just over his left shoulder, nodding and skimming the documents he's already read front to back. It's a good plan, better than his own idea of just doing what needs to be done and letting the profession come in after. The professionals are what give the artefacts value, and if they don't have value they're just pulling rubbish from the ground, aren't they?
He leans over Rafe just a hair more at that question, matching smirk-for-smirk.]
You insinuating something about me, love?
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Just as there's more to plans than saying "screw it" and jumping in feet first. There must be something about treasure hunters at large, some common allergy to forward thinking— At least among the ones Rafe's known so far. Not that he minds covering the slack. It's another thing he does well, minding the details and watching the angles that others might miss. ]
Just that guys your age can get a little too excited pretty fast. Don't need you blowing your load before we get what we're here for.
[ Harry enjoys the fact he looms over Rafe, takes whatever opportunity he can to crowd him in. Rafe isn't sure when he stopped being annoyed by that, or when it stopped feeling like a lanky British spider breathing down his neck. Now it's simply become another Flynn-ism like the underlying smell of nicotine.
Not that he's come to as genial terms with that, of course. Guy's got to keep some standards. ]
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