dumbshow | Friends of Trains

[That joke's funny now, but it'll be a raised eyebrow and a frown the third time Ned has to hear it. It's more like did Evie even notice he showed up to grab his new book, the way it was such a brief visit for once. Right now he's more interested in taking Jacob back to his office, a rare privilege he hopes Jacob can appreciate.

He'd better appreciate it...] I've got other places to hide out if I get tired of your face, Frye.

[Not that he will, really, but he has to say it. His house is completely innocuous, in the middle of a completely unremarkable street lined with the same closely-packed houses as everywhere else. There's nothing about the building that screams "criminal mastermind's home" other than the fact that Ned happens to be the one with a key to the front door. Immediately inside there's a narrow staircase and a door slightly open at the end of a short hall; one or two of Ned's people are down there, but nobody gets up to come see who he's brought home before he's already elbowing Jacob upstairs. Go, go up to his office, great idea.]

You won't make it past the door without me here. Don't provoke my boys just for the hell of it.

You won't get tired of my face. [He counters confidently, but he was more caught up in paying attention to each and every detail of the walk inside. There's nothing to catch on here, aside from his men, but that's smarter than more than half his targets. Ned was smart. Ned was...

He's cut off thinking of ways to describe Ned by his elbowing, swatting his hands as he starts up the stairs. Fascinating.] Have you forgotten you're inviting an assassin into your home? I find other ways than the door.

[Don't swat at him, you baby. Ned nudges him right back again, up the stairs and then side stepping around him once they're in the upstairs hall.] Give me a break—you're supposed to be on my side.

[Is Jacob not Ned's personal muscle...?? Anyway, the upstairs hall is just as spartan as the hall downstairs, but the carpet is nicer. There are a few windows and they're all locked from the inside, thanks, and only three doors, all of which are shut. Ned motions for Jacob to quit flapping his hands at him and come on, taking them down to the last door, which he pauses to unlock again before swinging open and gesturing around proudly at as he walks in.

It's... an office, that's for sure. For someone who steals so much art, he only has one painting hanging and not even one that's recognizably famous - it's a nonspecific countryside, to boot - and he clearly doesn't decorate to show off his wealth but rather to subtly remind anyone who makes it this far to see him. There are two different massive safes, his desk is solid wood and worth more at a glance than the painting on the wall, and along one wall shelves holding thick books that are, some of them, business records, but expensive besides. Two more locked windows; maybe he'll move the bookshelves in front of those to make it fun for Jacob to harass him. On top of the safe behind the desk there is a very nice model train; never touch it.

The lamp is still lit from whenever he left before; in case anyone outside is waiting for it to go dark so they can smash their way in, obviously. Ned doesn't feel the need to point this out. The most important part of the room however is the coat rack behind the desk, because it's directly responsible for Ned taking off his coat and hat to hang up, loosening his tie just a fraction as he comes back around to the front of the desk and leans back against it. Go ahead, Jacob. Touch his stuff.]

[To say Jacob marvels at the simplest of things would be an understatement. One would think he wouldn't be able to shut up about how it's a small office for a small man, but his attention was on... Ned. Ned taking off his jacket. Ned putting his hat up. How his hair was dangerously close to curling at the ends.

But his office. Right. Right! Jacob blinks as Ned settles, looking away to belatedly take in his apartment. He didn't expect anything lavish, but this? Since there's so little decoration, he'll just have to go everything. He'll start walking forward to thumb through his little collection of books.] So this is what you work to make all days of the week? I didn't think you'd have the patience.

[What if he needs to go back and reference something... This not what he expected, and it wasn't because he didn't have any expectations because he was distracted. Certainly not.]

[If Ned notices the way Jacob seems to be frozen until he stops and leans against his desk, he doesn't say anything about it. He just watches him, arms folded in front of his chest, amused by Jacob going through his books and wary of the very same. Don't mess up his shit, he needs that...]

Feel free to make yourself comfortable. [Since he already has!!] What did you think running a business involves, Frye? Rallying my people to take out Blighters doesn't happen every day, unfortunately.

That sounds awfully boring. [Jacob glances over his shoulder, to Ned, of course, then at the book he'd gotten for him. He didn't want it shoved with these and forgotten... hm. He'll just have to shove it in his desk somewhere before he leaves.]

Well, Wynert... if it weren't for the safes, I'd never guess you were running all of London. [He turns, clasping his hands together so he'd resist undoing one of the window locks. He couldn't do that while Ned was paying attention.] I'd imagine that's just a quarter of what you make in there, right?

Dreadfully so. [How often is he going to need to look at pressed flowers, Jacob?? He will sometimes, but how much will he need to?

Anyway, his gaze drifts from Jacob to one of the safes and he hums a little, shrugging.]

It'd be kinda silly of me to lay out all my profits for you, wouldn't it? It's part. [He says this mostly for the excuse to wink while he does it, because that's not flirtatious at all. Flirting about money? Him? Perish the thought. He shifts slightly, dropping his hands to pat on the edge of his desk.] This fine piece of craftsmanship's worth more than a couple houses on this street, all by itself. Weighs a ton, too—hiding it in plain sight.

[Nobody will steal these expensive wooden assets!!]

[It doesn't need to be flirtatious for Jacob to spend another few seconds staring at him. But Jacob does that. It's fine and normal and perfectly excusable that he's approaching after.

He is pointing out his desk, after all. Jacob steps up to observe it conveniently close to Ned, though the raise in his brows is genuine. It's a desk...] What kind of wood did they carve for it to be worth that much? Is it American?

Christ, Frye, don't they teach you good taste in all that secret business of yours? ["Secret business" that he's not supposed to know about. He skips actually answering this question about the desk, though, in favor of crossing his arms again and looking at Jacob - up at him, now that he's gotten a lot closer.

Hmm.]

Just trust me when I say it's worth the cost. [america wood] I could find you the record, if you really want to know.

You say that like I listen to anything Greenie has to say. [Sorry Henry. Jacob grins like he's proud of that fact, taking one long look at the desk and the safe behind it. He stops at the train, his grin only growing wider once he recognizes it for what it is. How cute...]

I think I'll pass. [He takes to adjusting his hat, nodding towards it.] That's not one of mine. Did you get a replica of your own train?

[Ned laughs; that poor, poor Mr. Green. He doesn't really listen to him, either, but it's not like Henry Green has much to say to him on an ordinary day. So that works out just fine.

He looks over his shoulder at the model train with a little hum.] That old thing? That would be a to-scale model of the Best Friend of Charleston, the very first locomotive built entirely in the United States. In New York, in fact, though she was assembled a decade before my time.

[A beat.] And her boiler exploded before my time, too. Wish I could've seen it.

[The train? The explosion? Both??]

[Admittedly, Jacob was far more excited about the thing exploding than the details of the train. He wanted to ask how and how much fire, did anyone die, or anything else of the sort. But this is Ned, and he does want to keep his attention, so...]

If exploded before your time, how is it you got your hands on her model? [He is serious, but he can't help the little amused smile tugging at his lips. Ned is cute...] Or rather, how much money have you spent on that thing?

[Nobody, Jacob, and they could salvage enough parts to use it to build a different train. But whatever; he raises an eyebrow with a smirk of his own.]

Enough. More than the desk. [He's being completely honest here, he is actually this much of a fucking nerd about trains.] I like to think of her as an investment.

[He says this like he'll ever sell this toy train. Never. Ned♥train 4evr.]

An investment. [Jacob repeats, with a look that just screams he knows the truth. Ned just really wanted this toy train and he won't point it out if he keeps smirking like that.] I'm sure.

I won't say anything... because you own me a whiskey, Wynert. [He hasn't forgotten that he's absolutely going to owe him a favor. He's been looking forward to it.] How am I supposed to make myself comfortable without it?

[Ned loves his toy train!! The additional raised eyebrow says that he knows that Jacob knows he is just a dweeb for trains, and they can both just let it go there.

Whiskey time.] Always straight to business with you. [He sighs, like this is real and factual, and pushes himself off the desk to walk around behind it and stoop a little to open one of the drawers. Of course he keeps whiskey in his desk - that's just natural.

The bottle he sets on the counter is authentic American Whiskey From America, and he motions for Jacob to check it out while he moves again to fetch a pair of glasses from, for some reason, on top of one of the safes. He has a system.] Here—I'll let you pour us a taste, before you lose our bet.

You know me. All work. [Jacob takes his spot at the desk to lean over it, observing as Ned went around to fetch his things. He's already thinking of excuses to come back here. Find secret compartments, try combinations, go through his books...

All things he absolutely shouldn't waste time on doing. But he shouldn't really be so eagerly opening this Real American Whiskey bottle either, so whatever.] You haven't humiliated me enough already? I don't want to leave this place red-faced with embarrassment, so try to go easy on me.

I'll see what I can do. [He's put the glasses down now, one hand loosely around his own while he watches Jacob open the bottle. They might be in his office and surrounded by business, but this is one of the few times they've spent time together that is purely for personal reasons, and that's... nice. Jacob leaning over his desk like that inspires him to quite casually reach over with his other hand and lift Jacob's stupid top hat off his head.

He gives it a look as he sets it aside on the desk.] You look more comfortable already. [Without the ugly hat. He slides his glass forward.] Pour.

[Jacob blinks, looking up as Ned removes his hat. He nearly misses the glass tilting the bottle forward, catching himself staring at Ned with slightly furrowed brows.

He doesn't, though, thank God. He doesn't want to think about the moment-- whatever moment this is-- ruined by getting whiskey all over his things. He laughs it off, because what else can he do?] If it offends you so much, you can always ask. Unless you like taking things off me.

[That sure isn't gay. His glass in nearly filled to the brim by the time Jacob moves on to his own.]

[Jacob is too distracted to pour smoothly, Ned is too distracted to watch what he's doing—this is going great. This is much more fun than drinks at a pub somewhere, isn't it? He reaches back to pat the hat amicably, like he and the hat are in this together now.]

You're still dressed like you're leaving, Frye. Makes a host feel like his effort's been in vain. And— [And whatever else he's going to bullshit away about taking Jacob's clothes off for him has to wait, since he's finally glanced down to see the state of his glass. Uh.

When he laughs this time, it's surprised. Jacob??] Haven't you ever had whiskey straight before? You poured me about five glasses worth.

[Pay attention, gay baby.]

[Jacob didn't really think Ned the type to care about guests wearing hats indoors... but he's distracted from thinking about that by the fact he's nearly poured another five glasses into one. He really needs to stop looking at Ned. He'd nearly missed what he said.]

You're telling me you can't drink five glasses? [It's not the glass he's sliding back to him is any better, being worth maybe three. It's fine. He meant for this to happen.] I guess it'll have to be mine. Wouldn't want you so smashed you just start taking the rest off.

[Or does he. Hm. He's just going to take up the glass and not think about that either.] Are we toasting?

[Oh boy, is Jacob going to be wasted out of his mind even sooner? Ned hums, taking the traded glass with no objections and picking it up.]

Hah. Alright. You wanna toast? [He lifts the glass higher, like okay, come here and toast with him.] To what, Frye? Our beautiful friendship?

Tooo... [Jacob finds he doesn't want to risk spilling it over his fancy American wood, so he drags out the word for as long as it takes to walk around. He's here, he's thinking, he's looked at the train--]

To The Best Friend of Charleston. [He can't help but grin at his own stupid little toast, even behind the glass. It's a miracle he doesn't spill it touching it against Ned's and taking his first sip, because he's laughing to himself the whole time.]

[Ned's waiting here, glass raised, tiny smirk ready to get that much more smirky when Jacob picks something to toast to. He's waiting for "to the Rooks!" or maybe even "to London," and somehow nothing prepared him for Jacob toasting his stupid toy train. He blinks, keeping it together long enough to clink their glasses together and watch Jacob laugh at his own joke and oh, goddamn it. God damn it.

He can't help himself and it isn't a smirk so much as a full, honest to God smile, hidden behind his first sip of whiskey and then less so as he looks off to the side, not at the toy train. His shoulders shake a little with the laugh he is just barely holding in and he takes another sip hurriedly, waving his free hand at Jacob like please, do not speak.]

Wiseass. [don't look at him, go away]

[Of all the things to finally make him choke, it's Ned's smile and waving at him. He can't help but laugh harder at the ridiculousness of it, seeing him so unconfined over a toy train. Whiskey drips down his chin and onto his coat as he lowers the glass, swallowing back what he didn't just lose.]

You like it. [He rasps, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He cleared his throat and shakes his head, doing little to hide the fact he has one of those honest smiles as well.] I owe you a favor, Wynert. It's a toast over good whiskey.

[Jacob choking on his fancy liquor gives Ned a minute to control his face, good lord, what kind of crime lord is he?]

Jesus, that's gotta be at least two pounds' worth of whiskey you're dribbling everywhere. [This is it... This is where Ned has laid his affections. Apparently. Still kind of goddamn-it-ing over that one, give him time.] But I'll take that favor and remember it, no problem.

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