Prompt Post: ROUND TWO
ROUND TWO IS CLOSED
<< ROUND ONE | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND THREE >>
Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
<< ROUND ONE | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND THREE >>
Rules post.
Flat view.
ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)
ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
Please use the Discussion Post if you want to talk about community alterations or get my modly attention. Do not ( Read more... )
“Too young to have been jaded by the work,” Erik said.
At this, Moira shook her head. “He’s not as young as you’d think. And he’s seen… well, he’s not as naive as you’d think, either.” Her eyes drifted out of focus and new lines settled in around her mouth, making her look tired and worn.
So there was more to Charles than Erik had supposed. Erik found himself leaning even farther forward. “What’s his story?” he asked and made no attempt to hide his interest. Moira would have seen it in his posture, anyway.
Moira twisted her bracelet between her fingers, gripping the chain like she needed something to fidget with. “His mother was an alcoholic, his father died young, and his stepfather was abusive,” Moira said. “His mother drank herself to death by the time he got into Oxford.” As two-sentence biographies went, this was an unsettling one. Something in Erik’s face must have given him away, because Moira’s own expression softened. “Not that he’d say any of this himself,” she admitted. “Raven told me.”
“She’s his…”
“Step-sister. From what I can tell, the two are close. They managed to survive their less than ideal household by leaning on each other.” Moira picked up her sandwich again. “He’s very good. I’ve seen some of the profiling work he’s done. He’s a lot more savvy than he looks.”
Erik shrugged. “He’s not an idiot, but I have yet to see him in action.”
Moira put her sandwich down again, and she began rummaging around in her briefcase. She came up with a small index card; Erik could see writing in black ink on both sides of the card. “Charles figured you would eventually try and get rid of him,” she said. “He gave this to me so that when you complained, he’d have some way to prove his competence.” She cleared her throat and began reading the card aloud. “’Mr. Erik Lensherr. Suffered some sort of trauma during his early teen years. Obsessive tendencies. Harsh. Straightforward. Misanthrope. His secretary is extremely protective of him. He is highly intelligent, with little formal education. Speaks German, French, and Spanish. Spent the night in his office. Hates interns.’ Charles wrote this,” Moira said, putting the index card on the desk, “on the way to that diner we ate at yesterday. He’d met you for all of five minutes.” Her smile widened a fraction. “You still think he won’t turn out to be an asset?”
Erik took the card. The handwriting was similar to the note Charles had left him that morning. It was disconcerting to realize how easily Charles had mentally dissected Erik’s life within minutes of meeting him. And yet, knowing all of that, Charles had still agreed to work with Erik. “He’s a masochist,” Erik murmured.
“He’s willing to partner with you, so I’d have to agree.” Moira sat up straighter and she spoke tighter, more clipped tones. Business time, Erik thought. “So how’s the investigation going?”
“Shaw’s working with the Russian mob,” Erik said. “You knew that, though.”
Moira nodded. “I saw the pictures that photographer took. I told him to keep his head down, and only show them to the representative I’d send.”
“We’re staking out Riptide at Frank’s. It’s the only place he’s known to frequent.”
Moira’s lips quirked. “We?”
Erik bit back a curse. He was tired of people turning his verbal slips into weapons, like they meant something. “Charles and I,” he said grudgingly.
“You’ll call me the minute you see Riptide.” It wasn’t a request. “I won’t have you chasing a mob enforcer without backup.”
Erik leaned back, settled more comfortably into his chair. “Sure.”
“You will,” Moira said, and she wasn’t smiling. “Dammit, Erik. I’ve seen enough casualties on this one case alone. I do not want to have to ID your corpse.”
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HELLO THERE
(extremely excited about this fic)
Damn, I'd say more if I had time. I will probably return to this comment and list all the things I continue to love about this fic.
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