After leaving Stigmata - a couple of drinks and a slight headache later - James can feel the conversation he hasn't had with Pela looming on the near horizon. The house is quiet (except for the cat, who winds around James's like ankles like it knows he's not in the mood to deal with somebody's fucking cat) when they get back, and he weighs the odds
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Pela, helpfully, tsks at the cat to send it wandering the halls of the house away from them - it can get in and out, it's clever, and she doesn't feel like teaching it how to Behave. It knows how to be when she tells it, even if it's not really one of her subjects.
"Of course. We understood one another. What did you think of her? Since she seemed to know you, sort of..."
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"I think she's a pit viper," he responds, in that pleasant tone of voice he adopts sometimes that isn't, actually. "And she thinks she knows me."
It skates just close enough to being true to make him uncomfortable, even if he might be willing to like her a little, himself. He's decided she liked him, regardless of whether or not she actually did - and she'd probably pick that, too, damn her. He pauses, and then says, more levelly, "It's important she doesn't find out what I'm doing here."
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"Because...?" She can guess, and her tone suggests she has a few ideas, but she does want the full explanation. (Perhaps partially just to make him give it.)
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James exhales, irritated and not - for once - with Pela. He works off his jacket, sitting down and producing his cigarettes to accompany this explanation she needs.
"Because I'm going to be buggered if M back in London finds out what I'm up to, and the last thing I need is a preview from her." Not to mention the potential for run off over onto his alternate who is under her authority; he already suspects he's going to be hearing about this conversation. No need to make matters worse for the both of them, right?
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"Does anyone know what you're actually doing here with me?" She sits down next to him, legs tucked up underneath herself.
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"You do," he says - as if he's being reasonable about it, glancing at her. Which means: no, nobody actually knows the full story. James has been extraordinarily careful about that.
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"...it is that top-secret, is it. You must really be interested in Deepwater."
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"I started something here and I mean to finish it," he says, firmly. "I'm generously not putting myself or my superiors in the position of ordering that I cease and forcing me to disobey."
There is an implied 'again', but the bitter edge to it is veiled.
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"I still don't entirely understand why you started," she admits, "...though I am glad you did."
Is that real gratitude? Horrors.
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"Paperwork was becoming very dull," he says, dryly, as if to helpfully offset the fact she just expressed genuine gratitude. "No, I...had been studying the nexus for some time before we met. It seemed like a worthwhile pursuit, and educational into the bargain."
He exhales smoke, away from her. "I doubt I'll be doing something like this again."
Really.
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"No, I imagine you won't." Specifically regarding the supernatural and the mermaid, yes. She watches him smoke with narrowed eyes, though for once it's not disapproving, just thoughtful.
"It's going to get harder, what we're doing. More dangerous."
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"As is the nature of the beast." He quirks a small, strange smile in her direction, around the cigarette and curling smoke. Low and calm, he goes on, "Like I said. I don't leave a job unfinished. I just happen to be playing for different stakes this time."
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"Be careful," she says, steady because she's making herself, after a moment, "I don't want you to die."
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A pause follows her - request? Assertion? Whatever it was, there's a pause after it. "Of course," he says. "I'm more concerned about my career afterwards, if we're being honest." Which is either arrogance, misplaced priorities, or both.
"I'm always careful." Well, that's just not true.
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She watches him brush away her concern - place his confidence in front of her like an example or a distraction - and doesn't say anything. It's probably really annoying when she does this.
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"Pela," he says, mildly, watching her back in her silence.
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