Vignette: Car Ride
Bill Linden is in the car when Shaw comes downstairs from his office, ready for the trip to some apartment or another. Flickers of smokey smell give the Club some distant charnel-house impression, and the lingering presence of fire inspectors intrudes too much on the Black King's privacy. It will be better, perhaps, in a few days - but now, it's a creak of leather seats in the Lincoln as Shaw looks forward to his knight, seated on the jumpseat behind the driver. "Bill."
"Shaw." The knight eyes his king carefully as someone shuts a door, as the car begins to pull away from the curb. The outline of the rambling mansion of the Club is dark, a shimmering black-on-black outline through tinted windows that recedes at crazy angles as the car pulls away. "So far, things are being kept under control. White hasn't reasserted themselves - they will, probably, but..." The businessman just shrugs a little. "That's for tomorrow, not today." Bill waits for a response and sees none - Sebastian Shaw's eyes are on the scenery, his fingers drumming along the wide drop-down armrest. Linden's brows raise, and he continues. "I've contacted Bahir, given him the information about the DC business... and I've made the neccessary arrangements to see that Shaw Industries runs itself for the next few days?" The last ends with a questioning note.
"Don't," Shaw says. "I'll go into the office tomorrow morning." A thin smile. "Work," he says, "is distracting. Make the change - and continue."
The black knight takes a breath, and there's a brief flash of concern in his eyes. "Very well," he says, and he's about to disagree, but... "Harper has what she needs." Flat tone in Bill Linden's voice. "Boss..." Now his tone becomes careful as the man steps into a mindfield. "I do what I'm told. If you want the man dead, he'll die. But --"
Shaw's gaze snaps back towards Linden, and he focuses straight on his knight's face as a snarled interjection cuts the other man off. "But what?" he says. "Are you in a questioning mood, too? Is every one of you some viper, smuggled by Cleopatra into my bed?"
"Where are you going with that, boss?" Linden asks patiently. "Who's Cleopatra?" No response - the Black King just stares at Bill for a long, long moment. "He'll die if you want him dead, Shaw - and the truth is, it's probably a good example for the pawns." Hesitancy in the Black Knight's voice suggests he doesn't believe that. "But the how and the why - is that blood needed?"
Linden's question hangs in the air for a span of seconds that ticks away, one by one, and Shaw pulls his gaze from his knight to stare out the window. "I want it done." Tone indicates finality, and Bill registers that with silence for the rest of the ride.