[If Ned were talking to Evie, he'd probably be scolded with the bombs confiscated. Jacob, however, will just watch this with an amused grin as he pulls more and more coins from his pockets. He wasn't the wisest with his money.] Yeah. Evie and I have to wear things in our shoes so we don't fry Fryes.
[Ha ha, he's so funny.] I'll show you sometime. It's pretty satisfying when you're not on the receiving end.
[Don't let him get stunned, Jacob. He probably won't drop this, and if he did, it'd roll off the roof before it managed to go off—ideally speaking. It's probably fine for him to play with bombs.
He laughs at fry Fryes, because he's as lame as Jacob in some respects, and puts the bomb back down after another higher toss.] We'll have to find some Blighter-ridden mud, first. Or cops, next time my boys get pinched.
[Hell yeah, frying the police. That aside...] Frye, you've got a bag for these coins, and they're still all over the place. Seriously?
I'm sorry that I have more money than I carry. Truly the worst problem in the world. [Jacob rolled his eyes, patting his pockets down before giving it a good shake. There goes a missed smoke bomb, dropping three stories to land on some poor, unsuspecting Rooks.]
You could— [Whatever he's going to say to that is interrupted as his attention is hooked by the smoke bomb bouncing away and unleashing a cloud of inconvenience on the poor saps below them trying to play cards. For a moment it's quiet on the roof, the only noise to be heard the clamoring and startled shouts from below.
And then Ned laughs again, behind his hand, trying not to laugh too loudly and give them away up here. He leans to peer over the edge of the roof just for a couple seconds before coming back again, reaching for Jacob's shoulder and steadily losing control of his laughter as he moves to get up.]
I think we're outta time. Pick up your toys and let's get down from here.
[Jacob spared a grin for the poor players, but he only started laughing because Ned was adorable. That isn't a word he thinks should come to mind about him, a crime lord of London, but... he can't help it. Who allowed him to look so happy?]
Right, right. You're better at going down than getting up. [He hauls his coat over his shoulder, grabbing his handful of things to stuff in his various belt pouches. The real reason he has so many.] After you.
[At least put the coins in the coin purse Jacob, augh. Thankfully Ned misses this continued refusal to use a coin purse for the only thing it's made for, humming and still chuckling a little as he leans down to brace himself and then hop through the trap door back into that grubby little attic room. Now that he's here, let him look around...
He's going to touch everything if nobody stops him. Look at him, already enthusiastically gesturing widely with both hands at the mess.]
Now then, you've got to tell me about this palace of luxury.
[Jacob fully expects to just be walking Ned back down to some carriage or something, so he blinks after stepping down. He looks between Ned and the piles of bottles he's gathered, hopefully over the course of a few weeks at least, the unmade bed, the... well, the illustrations from London all the walls were cute, at least.]
I had to go somewhere when Evie's mad. Or when she's not and they've decided to... occupy the bed. [Ugh. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated he didn't think of cleaning sooner. Don't make fun of him!!] It's not like anyone else is using it.
[He'll have to commandeer some Rooks to drive him home if he wants a carriage, so let him have this moment of poking around this charmingly crap hidey hole room. The illustrations are cute.]
She'd hit you if she knew you were telling me that. [Have you met your sister, Jacob?? Ned looks away from the cute pictures to instead pick up an empty liquor bottle and scoff at it, holding it up.] Really? I knew I was right to offer you a drink at my place.
Then she better not find out. [Jacob walked past Ned as if they were still leaving, groaning when he saw Ned lift a bottle. There's just no escaping this.]
So I can have your weak American beer? I don't think so. [He hasn't even drank any--] We make it just fine here. You might just have poor taste.
Oh, that'll be the day. "Evening, Miss Frye, you'll never guess what your dearly beloved brother told me all about earlier tonight..." I like my head on my shoulders where it belongs, thanks.
[But anyway, now that it's established that no one is going to repeat anything about Evie's sex life here or ever again, Ned tosses the bottle at Jacob. Catch this garbage, punk.] Whiskey, Frye. I don't pay big bucks to import cheap beer.
[Jacob catches it-- because of course he does, assassin-- and sighs, shaking it like he wishes there was more in it.
Don't judge him for turning it over to catch like, one tiny drop. Shut up.] Tell you what, Wynert. If your whiskey is better than anything I've had here, I'll owe you a favor.
[He's judging a little... How long has that been on the floor in here? Gross. But there's no denying the way his eyes light up when he hears the word favor.]
Done. Shake on it. [No man has ever agreed to something faster than Ned Wynert agrees to a bet based on the quality of his American Whiskey. He's already holding his hand out before he's done telling Jacob to shake it - shake his hand. Seal this fate.] No cheating me, alright?
[He has great faith that his fancy imported liquor could run circles around whatever swill Jacob is buying on his stolen coins. They are two men at complete opposite ends of the gang leader aesthetic and that is okay. Ned will show him the way.
Anyway. He's got a decent handshake for someone so small; practice.] It'll knock you right outta your ugly boots. You'll like it.
I'm sorry, not everyone can wear fancy shoes and jackets with sleeves too long for them. [Jacob smirked, but he was admiring Ned's face for so long that he realized he needed to stop shaking his tiny hand. He froze once it hit him, clearing his throat and pulling it back to run through his hair instead.
[This sure is a long handshake... Ned just looks at him, apparently amused enough to not point it out until Jacob notices and gets awkward about it himself. That's what he lives for, smirking and tugging at his own sleeve like there's absolutely nothing wrong with the size of his coat.
Denial is a powerful thing. It's fine.] That's not something I need to hear from someone who's never seen the inside of a tailor's.
[Sooo... are they both stalling? He's just curious.]
It'd probably scandalize you more to tell you I've been inside one and did nothing about it. [Jacob's absolutely stalling. He didn't like thinking about sending Ned off, or the walk back to the train where he's probably missed Evie leaving. Ned was... good company.]
... Thank you for taking time out of your precious schedule to join me. [He gives it up with a sigh, dropping his hand to his side.] I don't know what I'd do without your criticism.
Same thing you do with it? Nothing at all. [He even just admitted as much about the tailor thing, so Ned is right as usual. But he can't stall much longer than this, so with one last sigh and look around the room like he's been here forever and will really miss scorning it, he turns for the door.]
Walk me out, Frye. We'll see if I can lose you in a crowd for once.
Not a chance. [In hindsight, that probably wasn't something to warrant him offering his arm to physically walk him back down. It sure wasn't. Jacob is stupid, and he's dropping it to walk out ahead of him before either of them can acknowledge his face burning again.
[Oh. Hmm. Ned graciously pretends he doesn't notice that, as much as he looked right at Jacob offering his arm for a solid couple seconds there. This is a completely ordinary and platonic walk back down to the street. The Rooks menaced by that smoke bomb seem to have cleared out by now, and there aren't exactly crowds at this hour, but it's dark—and this is Southwark. Giving Jacob a little wave and disappearing around a corner will probably never work for him again, but while Ned has the advantage of being on his home turf, he'll take it.
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dumbshow2017-02-06 11:06 pm
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[Ha ha, he's so funny.] I'll show you sometime. It's pretty satisfying when you're not on the receiving end.
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He laughs at fry Fryes, because he's as lame as Jacob in some respects, and puts the bomb back down after another higher toss.] We'll have to find some Blighter-ridden mud, first. Or cops, next time my boys get pinched.
[Hell yeah, frying the police. That aside...] Frye, you've got a bag for these coins, and they're still all over the place. Seriously?
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... I meant for that to happen.
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And then Ned laughs again, behind his hand, trying not to laugh too loudly and give them away up here. He leans to peer over the edge of the roof just for a couple seconds before coming back again, reaching for Jacob's shoulder and steadily losing control of his laughter as he moves to get up.]
I think we're outta time. Pick up your toys and let's get down from here.
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Right, right. You're better at going down than getting up. [He hauls his coat over his shoulder, grabbing his handful of things to stuff in his various belt pouches. The real reason he has so many.] After you.
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He's going to touch everything if nobody stops him. Look at him, already enthusiastically gesturing widely with both hands at the mess.]
Now then, you've got to tell me about this palace of luxury.
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I had to go somewhere when Evie's mad. Or when she's not and they've decided to... occupy the bed. [Ugh. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated he didn't think of cleaning sooner. Don't make fun of him!!] It's not like anyone else is using it.
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She'd hit you if she knew you were telling me that. [Have you met your sister, Jacob?? Ned looks away from the cute pictures to instead pick up an empty liquor bottle and scoff at it, holding it up.] Really? I knew I was right to offer you a drink at my place.
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So I can have your weak American beer? I don't think so. [He hasn't even drank any--] We make it just fine here. You might just have poor taste.
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[But anyway, now that it's established that no one is going to repeat anything about Evie's sex life here or ever again, Ned tosses the bottle at Jacob. Catch this garbage, punk.] Whiskey, Frye. I don't pay big bucks to import cheap beer.
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Don't judge him for turning it over to catch like, one tiny drop. Shut up.] Tell you what, Wynert. If your whiskey is better than anything I've had here, I'll owe you a favor.
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Done. Shake on it. [No man has ever agreed to something faster than Ned Wynert agrees to a bet based on the quality of his American Whiskey. He's already holding his hand out before he's done telling Jacob to shake it - shake his hand. Seal this fate.] No cheating me, alright?
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Except he didn't really mind doing Ned favors. So it's not really a loss.] Cheat you? Never, Ned.
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Anyway. He's got a decent handshake for someone so small; practice.] It'll knock you right outta your ugly boots. You'll like it.
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Smooth.] Right.
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Denial is a powerful thing. It's fine.] That's not something I need to hear from someone who's never seen the inside of a tailor's.
[Sooo... are they both stalling? He's just curious.]
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... Thank you for taking time out of your precious schedule to join me. [He gives it up with a sigh, dropping his hand to his side.] I don't know what I'd do without your criticism.
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Walk me out, Frye. We'll see if I can lose you in a crowd for once.
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He's not gay.]
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Look forward to drinks, Jacob who is not gay.]