[Well, that makes him laugh again—] I'll let you keep some of it.
[Like that pretty train of his, so Ned can come visit them both. But yes, of course he wants everything. He's gotten really close, since the Blighters and Starrick are out of the picture; there's no one left to stop him who actually will, see... But that aside, he's peering out of the train himself, watching the scenery go by, and so he has time to scoff over his shoulder at Jacob's total bullshit about the Blighters leaping off trains before there are big, oafish hands lifting him up.
Excuse you, Jacob Frye??] What the hell, Frye—put me down! Put— [He's cut off by the sudden literal jump, which has him clutching one hand into a fist in the front of Jacob's coat so that he doesn't fucking die. There's stumbling and stupidity and just how close did they come to death? For fuck's sake.]
Frye, put me down before I have to shoot you. [Even after fearing his life would end with his head cracking like an egg against pavement, he has the ability to sound almost bored with this whole event, like Jacob is playing a game by himself and Ned happens to be there. Please put him down.]
You wouldn't. [Ned can manage to sound bored, while Jacob hasn't caught his breath. Ned was tiny and easy to manhandle, so he'll take another minute to enjoy this. Ned is cute.] I make you too much money.
[But fiiine... let him step out of the dirt and set him down on the pavement. It's not like any adults are around to give them looks- but there are children giggling. They're not going to hear the end of it when it gets back to Clara.] I told you I'd sweep you off your feet, Wynert.
Hmm, [is Ned's only response to that. Jacob does make him a lot of money, that's true... He appreciates that in an entirely different way than he appreciates Jacob's noticeably firm chest, but he really doesn't appreciate being toted around at all, so he's happy to get back on his own feet and straighten out his suit.
Hmm. Will he pay off street children to be quiet? He might. Later.]
I'll be more impressed when I see that sunset. [Adjusting his hat first... now he's ready. Show him the trapdoor.]
Ned Wynert? Impressed? I'll believe it when I see it. [Jacob reached over and tipped Ned's hat forward before sauntering down the street. The groups of Rooks grew more frequent the further they went, coincidentally closer to Southwark. Did he pile them all in Ned's district for protection?
Maybe. Come to one of his shitty hideouts, that's where they'd going.] They'd use these things to come after me, like I wouldn't just shove them off. But I like to sit out here, sometimes. When Evie's convinced I'm wrecking all of London. Or I can't find you to bother.
[Rude, as usual. Ned fixes his hat again, following after Jacob and falling into step with him despite being so short. He's gifted in this art, too. And this is faintly silly; if they were going to go to Southwark all along, he could have brought the book along and taken Jacob back to his office to make stupid bookworm comments or whatever he'd do... Next time.
He's noticed the Rooks, by the way. But it sure doesn't hurt to keep a clean house, and extra muscle goes a long way.]
Because I'm working. You oughta try it sometime—maybe you'll be surprised and take a liking to it. [ha ha] One of these days I'll find you a real challenging job to keep you busy.
Yeah? What's more challenging than assassinating all the Templars that's been plaguing London for years? I'd love to know. [Of course, Jacob continues to brag after a compliment. So humble. So modest.
To be fair, he didn't know where Ned's office was. He'd even refrained from asking to respect his privacy. Believe it or not, some part of Jacob actually cares about other people's feelings.] Maybe being your accountant, but only because it's so boring.
D'you want a pat on the back and a cookie, Frye? You did good. [He's even applauding, but sarcastically. Clap clap... clap. Good job, Jacob, you killed the most Templars.] Nobody's saying London hasn't been choked with all kinds of badness or that you didn't do us all a favor.
[Country boy. Ned and his American accent are more London than that.]
And I still handle some of my own books, you know. You can't climb the ladder sitting on your ass. [He knows math!! He did in fact have several years of a Fancy Education, but nobody has to know that.] Anyway, speaking of climbing, let's get the lead out before the sun sets without us.
Maybe I do want a cookie. [Jacob huffed, turning into one of the yards where the Rook flag flew. They're all settled by the fire for the evening, throwing cards down with their coin up for grabs. Does he scold them? Absolutely not. He'd probably join them if he weren't escorting.]
If you'd let me hook you, we'd be up there by now. [Stairs... Jacob's just complaining to complain, it's not that bad. He's even set up the rooms they pass through to be bedrooms for his children, but shut up, he's tough.] I got shot from this roof. Only way I figured it out.
Not a chance you're getting me up in the air with that thing. I'll get you a cookie sometime instead. [He really will, he'll have someone run it over to the station. In the meantime he's definitely glancing into a few rooms if the doors are open at all as they pass, a little smirk on his face - he knows Jacob is all heart underneath his apparently insatiable lust for vigilante murder, and this place is standing proof of that.
And he wants to know the layout of the place in case he ever needs to commandeer like, fifty Rooks, so. There's that too. Up the stairs... he scoffs at just how casually Jacob reminisces about being shot, leaning over in the cramped stairwell to elbow him a little. Good one, muscle-for-brains.] You sure put the fear of God into 'em after that, according to the flag outside.
[Real... real compliment?? Jacob gets that stupid grin he always has, full of pride at the praise. It was't much, but it was more than what he got from his sister. Or Henry. Or... well, he didn't want to think of anyone else.]
You said that like I didn't send them to see God. [They're all dead, Ned. Jacob slowed as they reached the attic, ducking at the low ceiling. There was a messy bed up here for one, and enough bottles for several. Clearly, he's slept here.] It's... right about... here.
[He didn't use eagle vision to find it, shut up. He runs his hand along the wood until it hits metal, throwing it open to reveal the dimming London sky. They haven't missed it, but only barely.] After you.
[Yes, that's it, ten points for Ned... He directs his little smirk at Jacob now, shrugging with his palms up at the rest. Maybe some of their friends who weren't there at the time had the fear of God put into them, okay.
He needs at least an extra half hour to really scorn this attic hideout room, but maybe later - he is staring at the mess before Jacob gets his attention again and he shuffles over to stand under this trap door. He puts his hands on his hips and judges it.
Aha. Well.] I don't wanna hear a word out of you, Frye— [BUT......] But do you have a stepping stool?
[It takes everything Jacob has not to burst out laughing. It really, truly does. He's biting his lip, staring him down like he's just going to burst at any second.]
Right here, Mr. Wynert. [He's behaving! He bows his head like he's doing him some sort of service, then kneeling with his hands for him to step into. Let him boost you up. Don't complain.]
[What did he say?? Even thinking about making fun of him counts as words. Ned raises an eyebrow at Jacob, frowning more sharply than usual to compensate for how embarrassed he is now. That frown follows him down to the floor...
This isn't the stepping stool he wanted, but he'll make the most of it. He sighs, put upon like this was Jacob's unnecessary idea, and shifts a few half-steps to stand in front of him and look up. How will he do this...
Inelegantly, that's how. He very inelegantly uses the back of Jacob's head and the edge of the roof opening he can reach to brace himself as he lifts a fancy shoe to step on a professional assassin and get up there. Once he has enough purchase on the roof he can haul himself the rest of the way up, so just enjoy getting knocked in the face with his knee for a minute here— And there he goes, disappearing up onto the roof. It was an adequate job.]
[Jacob didn't have any trouble with his weight, or the mess of his hair, or his fancy shoes. But a knee to the face?? He's can't help but whine, rubbing his cheek after Ned disappears up on the roof.]
I'm just glad you don't wear heels. [He grumbles, hauling himself through to join him with ease. It's easier to hear, up there. No shouting over a train or speaking over someone in a crowd. His grin is making its return in no time, and the sun was gradually making its exit.]
What would I wear heels for? [This he says to the hole in the roof. By the time Jacob joins him he's sitting there completely unruffled, like getting boosted up there didn't even happen. How does he do it! Practice.
Anyway, don't answer that question, just sit here with him.]
It's not bad. [Hmm.] Down there all I see is gutter, slum, Blighters still coming out of the mud, someone trying to pinch my profits— This is what you look at all the time?
[You know, in between murders. He's inching toward impressed, slowly but surely.]
When I'm not putting Blighters in the mud and saving your profits. [Jacob settled down beside the unruffled, smaller man and leaned back against the slant of the roof. Who knew someone could be more relaxed three floors high than he was on the ground?] It... goes both ways. Spend too long in the slums and you start to wonder if the city's worth saving. Spend all your time up here, you don't see that it needs saving.
[That was about ten seconds of seriousness from Jacob Frye before he's elbowing Ned's arm.] You might have to stand a little taller to see what I see, but I'm glad you've joined me. I was starting to think you were no all talk.
[Oh—huh. Ten seconds of seriousness isn't very long, but they don't need to dwell on the good and bad parts of London that much, considering their respective lifestyles. Ned still glances sideways at Jacob, that little smirk back again, but somewhat softer this time. This is probably "having a moment."
Which of course ends abruptly, but Ned only scoffs and reaches across to push at Jacob's shoulder for the elbow.] I can see just fine, Frye. You're so busy saving the city you forgot I've got business everywhere in it. Let's just say this isn't my first clandestine rooftop meeting.
[But it's the first one with flirting. With genuine flirting and no guns.]
Is it really a clandestine if half a dozen of my men saw you with me? [Is anything they do really a secret anyone anymore? Not really. But Jacob favors frequency over secrecy, and enjoys Ned's shoves at his shoulders. It was cute enough for an unguarded look of fondness he wasn't even aware he was giving.]
And... she's setting. [He redirects that look out to the distant Thames, pointing to the reflection of the sun setting the river. Ignore the hand coming to rest on Ned's back to turn him, it's completely normal.] I can't be out on the water during this. I'd want to sail into it.
Don't split hairs. [Please... Rooks don't count. Ned's people certainly don't know where the hell he went, so it's sort of clandestine. It's that look on Jacob's face that gets Ned to cooperate with the hand on his back, turning to look out toward the river.
This lasts about five seconds, before Ned isn't shrugging him off so much as leaning forward under the pretense of pulling one of his knees up to his chest. It's not that Jacob's hands on him are objectionable, but... Well.
Anyway.] I never got into sailing. Trains you can move around on a little, you know? But a ship—more than a week on a cheap steamer is plenty enough to turn you off sailing.
I wouldn't know. [The country boy has to admit, hesitantly withdrawing his hand to rest on his own knee. Jacob didn't know what to make of Ned leaning out of it, but he'll at least appreciate the view. of him. He was looking at the water? What?]
I shouldn't be surprised, though. [Ned and his damn trains... He comes to smirk, leaning back with a thoughtful glance out to the distant rails.] Tell you what, Wynert. If I ever slip up too bad to come back from, you can ride my train into the sunset. Only you deserve her.
[Let him and his trains rest. He hums, only half listening now that he's thinking about boats and trains and who knows what else, saving the city maybe, but after a moment he blinks and turns slightly to look at Jacob instead of the sunset. What was that...??]
I'm flattered, but try not to screw up that badly. That's more paperwork for me. [Some...how, listen, not the point.]
I screw up trying or not, Ned. It's bound to happen sooner or later. [Jacob's laugh has less humor and more bitterness in it. He doesn't spare a glance back this time, knowing he'd look much too serious about it. That wasn't hot.] Just thought you should know, so you don't have to steal it from Evie.
[Ugh, he was supposed to keep being sexy or something. Here, he'll take off his hat. That helps.] We both know how that'd go.
[Alright, Ned did not come up here to be treated to Jacob Frye's self-deprecation. He turns to face him a little more, leaning his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm, and he frowns. Of course he frowns; taking that hat off won't distract him that easily.]
It'd go just fine because I'm good at what I do. Maybe even the best. [The best... here, in London. Sure. He looks at Jacob for another moment before sighing and leaning over to push at his shoulder again. Don't sulk, it's weird.]
I'll get my hands on your train if you insist, but I'm gonna need you to take care of her for me until I've got time for her. I think I'll need, hm... a couple dozen years?
[Jacob could argue that what Evie does is usually what ruins people like Ned's best work, but... he won't burst that bubble. Ned is the best at what he does in London and there's no sense in ruining the moment.
But... hm. He does get a little of that smile back, and hey, he'll even look at him instead of getting lost in thought.] Yeah? That's about a dozen years more than an assassin's life expectancy, but I guess I'll manage just for you. Might be worth my while.
That's the spirit. Who's going to get me up this high if you quit on me?
[There, see, his purely professional interest in Jacob Frye not being depressed and dying—very professional. He even pats him on the shoulder before letting his hand fall away. It's fine when he does it.
After that he falls silent again, and looks out at the river—hmm. It'll be a minute or so before he speaks up again with,] If you want a boat, that wouldn't be too hard.
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dumbshow2017-02-06 11:06 pm
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[Like that pretty train of his, so Ned can come visit them both. But yes, of course he wants everything. He's gotten really close, since the Blighters and Starrick are out of the picture; there's no one left to stop him who actually will, see... But that aside, he's peering out of the train himself, watching the scenery go by, and so he has time to scoff over his shoulder at Jacob's total bullshit about the Blighters leaping off trains before there are big, oafish hands lifting him up.
Excuse you, Jacob Frye??] What the hell, Frye—put me down! Put— [He's cut off by the sudden literal jump, which has him clutching one hand into a fist in the front of Jacob's coat so that he doesn't fucking die. There's stumbling and stupidity and just how close did they come to death? For fuck's sake.]
Frye, put me down before I have to shoot you. [Even after fearing his life would end with his head cracking like an egg against pavement, he has the ability to sound almost bored with this whole event, like Jacob is playing a game by himself and Ned happens to be there. Please put him down.]
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[But fiiine... let him step out of the dirt and set him down on the pavement. It's not like any adults are around to give them looks- but there are children giggling. They're not going to hear the end of it when it gets back to Clara.] I told you I'd sweep you off your feet, Wynert.
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Hmm. Will he pay off street children to be quiet? He might. Later.]
I'll be more impressed when I see that sunset. [Adjusting his hat first... now he's ready. Show him the trapdoor.]
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Maybe. Come to one of his shitty hideouts, that's where they'd going.] They'd use these things to come after me, like I wouldn't just shove them off. But I like to sit out here, sometimes. When Evie's convinced I'm wrecking all of London. Or I can't find you to bother.
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He's noticed the Rooks, by the way. But it sure doesn't hurt to keep a clean house, and extra muscle goes a long way.]
Because I'm working. You oughta try it sometime—maybe you'll be surprised and take a liking to it. [ha ha] One of these days I'll find you a real challenging job to keep you busy.
[Compliment? Implied.]
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To be fair, he didn't know where Ned's office was. He'd even refrained from asking to respect his privacy. Believe it or not, some part of Jacob actually cares about other people's feelings.] Maybe being your accountant, but only because it's so boring.
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[Country boy. Ned and his American accent are more London than that.]
And I still handle some of my own books, you know. You can't climb the ladder sitting on your ass. [He knows math!! He did in fact have several years of a Fancy Education, but nobody has to know that.] Anyway, speaking of climbing, let's get the lead out before the sun sets without us.
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If you'd let me hook you, we'd be up there by now. [Stairs... Jacob's just complaining to complain, it's not that bad. He's even set up the rooms they pass through to be bedrooms for his children, but shut up, he's tough.] I got shot from this roof. Only way I figured it out.
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And he wants to know the layout of the place in case he ever needs to commandeer like, fifty Rooks, so. There's that too. Up the stairs... he scoffs at just how casually Jacob reminisces about being shot, leaning over in the cramped stairwell to elbow him a little. Good one, muscle-for-brains.] You sure put the fear of God into 'em after that, according to the flag outside.
[real compliment,]
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You said that like I didn't send them to see God. [They're all dead, Ned. Jacob slowed as they reached the attic, ducking at the low ceiling. There was a messy bed up here for one, and enough bottles for several. Clearly, he's slept here.] It's... right about... here.
[He didn't use eagle vision to find it, shut up. He runs his hand along the wood until it hits metal, throwing it open to reveal the dimming London sky. They haven't missed it, but only barely.] After you.
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He needs at least an extra half hour to really scorn this attic hideout room, but maybe later - he is staring at the mess before Jacob gets his attention again and he shuffles over to stand under this trap door. He puts his hands on his hips and judges it.
Aha. Well.] I don't wanna hear a word out of you, Frye— [BUT......] But do you have a stepping stool?
[shut the fuck up shut UP]
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Right here, Mr. Wynert. [He's behaving! He bows his head like he's doing him some sort of service, then kneeling with his hands for him to step into. Let him boost you up. Don't complain.]
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This isn't the stepping stool he wanted, but he'll make the most of it. He sighs, put upon like this was Jacob's unnecessary idea, and shifts a few half-steps to stand in front of him and look up. How will he do this...
Inelegantly, that's how. He very inelegantly uses the back of Jacob's head and the edge of the roof opening he can reach to brace himself as he lifts a fancy shoe to step on a professional assassin and get up there. Once he has enough purchase on the roof he can haul himself the rest of the way up, so just enjoy getting knocked in the face with his knee for a minute here— And there he goes, disappearing up onto the roof. It was an adequate job.]
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I'm just glad you don't wear heels. [He grumbles, hauling himself through to join him with ease. It's easier to hear, up there. No shouting over a train or speaking over someone in a crowd. His grin is making its return in no time, and the sun was gradually making its exit.]
Really clears your head, coming up here.
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Anyway, don't answer that question, just sit here with him.]
It's not bad. [Hmm.] Down there all I see is gutter, slum, Blighters still coming out of the mud, someone trying to pinch my profits— This is what you look at all the time?
[You know, in between murders. He's inching toward impressed, slowly but surely.]
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[That was about ten seconds of seriousness from Jacob Frye before he's elbowing Ned's arm.] You might have to stand a little taller to see what I see, but I'm glad you've joined me. I was starting to think you were no all talk.
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Which of course ends abruptly, but Ned only scoffs and reaches across to push at Jacob's shoulder for the elbow.] I can see just fine, Frye. You're so busy saving the city you forgot I've got business everywhere in it. Let's just say this isn't my first clandestine rooftop meeting.
[But it's the first one with flirting. With genuine flirting and no guns.]
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And... she's setting. [He redirects that look out to the distant Thames, pointing to the reflection of the sun setting the river. Ignore the hand coming to rest on Ned's back to turn him, it's completely normal.] I can't be out on the water during this. I'd want to sail into it.
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This lasts about five seconds, before Ned isn't shrugging him off so much as leaning forward under the pretense of pulling one of his knees up to his chest. It's not that Jacob's hands on him are objectionable, but... Well.
Anyway.] I never got into sailing. Trains you can move around on a little, you know? But a ship—more than a week on a cheap steamer is plenty enough to turn you off sailing.
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I shouldn't be surprised, though. [Ned and his damn trains... He comes to smirk, leaning back with a thoughtful glance out to the distant rails.] Tell you what, Wynert. If I ever slip up too bad to come back from, you can ride my train into the sunset. Only you deserve her.
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I'm flattered, but try not to screw up that badly. That's more paperwork for me. [Some...how, listen, not the point.]
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[Ugh, he was supposed to keep being sexy or something. Here, he'll take off his hat. That helps.] We both know how that'd go.
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It'd go just fine because I'm good at what I do. Maybe even the best. [The best... here, in London. Sure. He looks at Jacob for another moment before sighing and leaning over to push at his shoulder again. Don't sulk, it's weird.]
I'll get my hands on your train if you insist, but I'm gonna need you to take care of her for me until I've got time for her. I think I'll need, hm... a couple dozen years?
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But... hm. He does get a little of that smile back, and hey, he'll even look at him instead of getting lost in thought.] Yeah? That's about a dozen years more than an assassin's life expectancy, but I guess I'll manage just for you. Might be worth my while.
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That's the spirit. Who's going to get me up this high if you quit on me?
[There, see, his purely professional interest in Jacob Frye not being depressed and dying—very professional. He even pats him on the shoulder before letting his hand fall away. It's fine when he does it.
After that he falls silent again, and looks out at the river—hmm. It'll be a minute or so before he speaks up again with,] If you want a boat, that wouldn't be too hard.
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