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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[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.]