A new alliance.
ooc: Backdated to a couple of days after this.
"Mr. Beck? There's someone that wants to talk to you privately; they're waiting in the wine cellar."
Michael was about to say that he didn't really feel like seeing anybody, especially when it was almost time for him to drive back to New York, but figuring that he could just cut the meeting short he gathered his papers and headed downstairs. After the last few days of traveling he had been looking forward to working at the restaurant, but right now he just wanted to go back to New York. Hopefully he'd be able to do so soon, after he talked to whoever it was that was waiting for him.
As soon as he walked into the cellar, though, and he saw who was waiting for him he already knew that it'd be a while before he'd be able to go home. Especially since Stephen didn't seem to be in a good mood, and was holding a folder with some papers. "What do you want?"
Even if Stephen was doing his best to keep his temper in check, he was having a hard time doing so. Nonetheless, he attempted a smile. "Hey, Michael. I'd ask you how business is going, but you've been out of the country lately, haven't you? You probably don't even know how business is going anymore."
Smirking, Michael just took a small deep breath and closed the doors behind him so that his conversation with Stephen wouldn't filter out into the restaurant. He loved that about this particular room. "Listen, Stephen... I don't know what in the hell you've been smoking, but it's obviously making you hallucinate."
"Has it?" Raising his eyebrows, Stephen set down the folder he had been holding on one of the tables. "Because I have enough information here to let me think that you're doing nothing but fuck your life up yet again."
"You know," Michael said indifferently, not bothering to turn to look at the folder, "if you came here for some sort of interrogation, there are some steps to do that, aren't there? I mean, I haven't been arrested in a while, but last I remember-"
"Why don't you just cut the bullshit? You're working for Alena Vega and Marc Walsh. I don't know what Alena's doing, exactly, but I know the type of person that Marc is. He's worse than Jack, Michael, and you remember Jack, don't you? Jack, the same corrupt asshole, that you worked for. This guy, this Marc is worse. What do you think his exporting company deals with?" Stephen was so furious that he had started to pace, but Michael didn't react; he just listened. "You know what pisses me off the most, Michael? The fact that you don't give a shit. You worked with me to kill Jack, you got shot, my brother - one of your best friends - got killed, and you're throwing all that away? You wanted your fuckin' second chance, and this is how you throw it away, by working with Marc?"
Michael had been able to keep his expression neutral as he let Stephen run out of steam, but the mention of Eddie suddenly caused something within Michael to clench. Not because he was right (even if he was), but because it felt like a cheap shot. "What, you're trying to guilt trip me or something?" Now it was Stephen's turn to not answer, which angered Michael. "If you have proof that I'm working with someone as 'horrible' as Marc, why don't you arrest me? Why don't you just do your damn job already and take me in?"
The question took Stephen by surprise; something that he didn't bother to hide. "Is that what you want? You want me to arrest you?"
"Isn't that your job?"
"It is," he responded with a nod, "but on my way over here I realized that you'd be no good for me if you're locked up."
Frowning, Michael took a moment to really realize what Stephen was hinting at. When he understood it, though, he just frowned deeper. "No. No, I am not working with you again."
"Michael..."
"I work for Marc Walsh, you said it yourself; you want me to work for you too? You call Jack corrupt? Damn, man, look at yourself in the damn mirror! You're a cop, and you want me to work with you?"
"I know you don't want to work for Marc, Michael."
Michael laughed, but it was mainly forced. "I don't? So I made that trip to Argentina for no reason?"
Stephen stayed silent for a moment, but afterwards he shook his head. "You're bored. You don't want to work for them, and we both know this. You helped me out with Jack, but now you don't know what the hell you should do so you go work for Marc. Do you realize what you can do if you work for us? You could get information for us, about what Alena and Marc really do." When Michael looked away, Stephen let out a breath. "Look... I know I shouldn't be offering you this job, but we need to bring this bastard down, somehow. There are things that Marc is doing that we can't get a whiff of, and we need someone in the inside. Marc doesn't let anyone in so easily, so just shoving someone in wouldn't work, but you're there. You can help us."
"So you want me to be undercover, basically?" Michael frowned, silent momentarily until he just walked over to the folder that Stephen had been carrying. He didn't open it, though, because he knew Stephen well enough that he wouldn't bluff about this sort of thing. If he said he had evidence, he had evidence and that was that. "And if I say no?"
"If you say no," Stephen said quietly, looking down at the folder as well, "when the time comes for me to arrest you, you're going to leave me no choice. Right now, so far, you've only worked for them in one assignment, but if you keep doing this... It's going to be a matter of time before we catch you, along with the rest of the pricks you work for." He turned to look at Michael, who was staring at the folder with a clenched jaw. "You've worked too hard to get out, Michael. Don't bury yourself back in there if you can. I helped you get out once, and I'm willing to help you again, but this is the last time. I can't offer you this again." He waited for an answer but, when it didn't come, he shook his head and smirked. "Look... If you want to do something that's self-destructive, just work with me. You won't sleep well, hours are horrible, and there's a high risk of creating a lot of enemies."
Michael chuckled at that. "Yeah?" He smirked, turning to look at him. "Well why didn't you just say so?" Stephen blinked in surprise for a moment, which caused Michael to just shake his head. "You talk too much, you know that? I'm not doing this for you. And I'm not even doing this because you say you're going to arrest me - you think I care about that?" He pursed his lips as he weighed his decision but, before he could change his mind, he turned to Stephen. "Alena's doing something behind my back. I don't know what it is, but she's doing something. I know her. I know her better than she thinks, and I don't trust her. It'll give me a chance to see if I'm right or not."
"And if you're wrong?"
He shrugged. "Then I'm wrong. But I'm 98% sure that I'm right." Taking a deep breath, he nodded towards the bottles that were racked against the wall. "You want a drink? I have a feeling you're still not done talking."
Stephen just smirked. "You know me way too well."
"Unfortunately, yeah," Michael muttered under his breath, going over to pick a bottle of wine they could drink.
"Mr. Beck? There's someone that wants to talk to you privately; they're waiting in the wine cellar."
Michael was about to say that he didn't really feel like seeing anybody, especially when it was almost time for him to drive back to New York, but figuring that he could just cut the meeting short he gathered his papers and headed downstairs. After the last few days of traveling he had been looking forward to working at the restaurant, but right now he just wanted to go back to New York. Hopefully he'd be able to do so soon, after he talked to whoever it was that was waiting for him.
As soon as he walked into the cellar, though, and he saw who was waiting for him he already knew that it'd be a while before he'd be able to go home. Especially since Stephen didn't seem to be in a good mood, and was holding a folder with some papers. "What do you want?"
Even if Stephen was doing his best to keep his temper in check, he was having a hard time doing so. Nonetheless, he attempted a smile. "Hey, Michael. I'd ask you how business is going, but you've been out of the country lately, haven't you? You probably don't even know how business is going anymore."
Smirking, Michael just took a small deep breath and closed the doors behind him so that his conversation with Stephen wouldn't filter out into the restaurant. He loved that about this particular room. "Listen, Stephen... I don't know what in the hell you've been smoking, but it's obviously making you hallucinate."
"Has it?" Raising his eyebrows, Stephen set down the folder he had been holding on one of the tables. "Because I have enough information here to let me think that you're doing nothing but fuck your life up yet again."
"You know," Michael said indifferently, not bothering to turn to look at the folder, "if you came here for some sort of interrogation, there are some steps to do that, aren't there? I mean, I haven't been arrested in a while, but last I remember-"
"Why don't you just cut the bullshit? You're working for Alena Vega and Marc Walsh. I don't know what Alena's doing, exactly, but I know the type of person that Marc is. He's worse than Jack, Michael, and you remember Jack, don't you? Jack, the same corrupt asshole, that you worked for. This guy, this Marc is worse. What do you think his exporting company deals with?" Stephen was so furious that he had started to pace, but Michael didn't react; he just listened. "You know what pisses me off the most, Michael? The fact that you don't give a shit. You worked with me to kill Jack, you got shot, my brother - one of your best friends - got killed, and you're throwing all that away? You wanted your fuckin' second chance, and this is how you throw it away, by working with Marc?"
Michael had been able to keep his expression neutral as he let Stephen run out of steam, but the mention of Eddie suddenly caused something within Michael to clench. Not because he was right (even if he was), but because it felt like a cheap shot. "What, you're trying to guilt trip me or something?" Now it was Stephen's turn to not answer, which angered Michael. "If you have proof that I'm working with someone as 'horrible' as Marc, why don't you arrest me? Why don't you just do your damn job already and take me in?"
The question took Stephen by surprise; something that he didn't bother to hide. "Is that what you want? You want me to arrest you?"
"Isn't that your job?"
"It is," he responded with a nod, "but on my way over here I realized that you'd be no good for me if you're locked up."
Frowning, Michael took a moment to really realize what Stephen was hinting at. When he understood it, though, he just frowned deeper. "No. No, I am not working with you again."
"Michael..."
"I work for Marc Walsh, you said it yourself; you want me to work for you too? You call Jack corrupt? Damn, man, look at yourself in the damn mirror! You're a cop, and you want me to work with you?"
"I know you don't want to work for Marc, Michael."
Michael laughed, but it was mainly forced. "I don't? So I made that trip to Argentina for no reason?"
Stephen stayed silent for a moment, but afterwards he shook his head. "You're bored. You don't want to work for them, and we both know this. You helped me out with Jack, but now you don't know what the hell you should do so you go work for Marc. Do you realize what you can do if you work for us? You could get information for us, about what Alena and Marc really do." When Michael looked away, Stephen let out a breath. "Look... I know I shouldn't be offering you this job, but we need to bring this bastard down, somehow. There are things that Marc is doing that we can't get a whiff of, and we need someone in the inside. Marc doesn't let anyone in so easily, so just shoving someone in wouldn't work, but you're there. You can help us."
"So you want me to be undercover, basically?" Michael frowned, silent momentarily until he just walked over to the folder that Stephen had been carrying. He didn't open it, though, because he knew Stephen well enough that he wouldn't bluff about this sort of thing. If he said he had evidence, he had evidence and that was that. "And if I say no?"
"If you say no," Stephen said quietly, looking down at the folder as well, "when the time comes for me to arrest you, you're going to leave me no choice. Right now, so far, you've only worked for them in one assignment, but if you keep doing this... It's going to be a matter of time before we catch you, along with the rest of the pricks you work for." He turned to look at Michael, who was staring at the folder with a clenched jaw. "You've worked too hard to get out, Michael. Don't bury yourself back in there if you can. I helped you get out once, and I'm willing to help you again, but this is the last time. I can't offer you this again." He waited for an answer but, when it didn't come, he shook his head and smirked. "Look... If you want to do something that's self-destructive, just work with me. You won't sleep well, hours are horrible, and there's a high risk of creating a lot of enemies."
Michael chuckled at that. "Yeah?" He smirked, turning to look at him. "Well why didn't you just say so?" Stephen blinked in surprise for a moment, which caused Michael to just shake his head. "You talk too much, you know that? I'm not doing this for you. And I'm not even doing this because you say you're going to arrest me - you think I care about that?" He pursed his lips as he weighed his decision but, before he could change his mind, he turned to Stephen. "Alena's doing something behind my back. I don't know what it is, but she's doing something. I know her. I know her better than she thinks, and I don't trust her. It'll give me a chance to see if I'm right or not."
"And if you're wrong?"
He shrugged. "Then I'm wrong. But I'm 98% sure that I'm right." Taking a deep breath, he nodded towards the bottles that were racked against the wall. "You want a drink? I have a feeling you're still not done talking."
Stephen just smirked. "You know me way too well."
"Unfortunately, yeah," Michael muttered under his breath, going over to pick a bottle of wine they could drink.