redjacketthief | Appointments

[He hasn't had the cause to perform in a long time. Six months. It was far too long for a man who thrived in the spotlight. The problem made him even consider performing, but he didn't believe he could ever settle for just acting or music. Even as a child, he needed something more.]

Why of course. Can you think of anything that is more symbolic of peoples thoughts and feelings on the village? It stands there in the plaza day and night for years, eternally weeping. Even the people who wear a smile are weeping on the inside because of the sheer fact of life here. People come, people go. People can start new lives here, only to be torn from it and pulled back to their homes. Others see this as their only chance at life, and are going cold in their graves as we speak. Still others see this as a little death, and wish for nothing more than to return to the life that they were made for.

It doesn't matter who or why, what only matters is this: taking the fountain, even getting it to move an inch, will help people remember that we are not powerless in our gilded prison. We are not hopeless and not defeated so long as we remember that tomorrow brings another day and we still have the mind and heart to think and dream.

Edited 2012-04-26 22:50 (UTC)

...

[How much of that was something she'd thought? Something she'd felt at one time or another? Of course Lupin would think the same-

but unlike the rest of the village he would do something about it.]

That was beautiful, Lupin.

[Those eyes were on him and only him. There was always a thrill in knowing that an enraptured audience was on hand. Now that she knew? He only hoped that she could be more than just an audience.]

It's the truth. It can be ugly or beautiful. If it is, then that was no fault of mine.

Edited 2012-04-26 23:30 (UTC)

IT will certainly be worth the trouble of recording.

[A little huff of a laugh and turn of her head, disguising a dampness to her eyes. She wipes at them discreetly before turning a smile back on him. Ignore what you saw, Lupin. She'd been moved.]

How do you plan to do it?

[His audience was moved; it was worth it.]

Balloons, Adele. We're doing this in the flashiest way possible.

...I stole the Statue of Liberty with balloons. I can steal a fountain like that too.

Balloons? That would...be quite the spectacle.

[She laughs, high and bright, trailing off into a giggle that's almost too young for her. Almost.]

That will be fantastic Lupin- You're brilliant!

I know.

[He's grinning though, the sudden cockiness in his stance and tone doing nothing to alter it.]

Can I count on you to be by my side then? Or at least be a loyal recorder? [Because he's aware of your camera, Adele.]

I don't know Lupin.

[She has her reputation of neutrality to consider. Well. Apparent neutrality. Which apparently meant nothing, now. Still. Agreeing outright without bargaining? Batholomew and Remy taught her better.]

What is in it for me?

[Clever girl.]

Oh, I dunno. Bragging rights. The time of your life. Being known for having a reputation as an excellent doctor who moonlights as a crazy bitch from this point onward.

In a good way, of course.

Hmmmm....

[She tilts her head to the side. Mulling it over. It'd be fun- it'd be terribly fun. Awfully out of character. But that same impish thread in the back of her mind that urged her to invite a man upstairs in Geneva years ago speaks up once more. Do it. What could it hurt? Live a little, while you can.]

What else do you have?

[Oh, she was playing hardball now. This made their little game all the more interesting.]

We'll figure out something when the time comes. This place doesn't have much to offer--you'd think that a renewed belief in human ingienuity would be enough.

...I understand though. You're used to my kind of man.

[Of course she's playing Hardball. Softball is for little leagues and neophytes. She may not be a seasoned thief, but she's dealt with men like Lupin most of her adult life, and known one since she was a child. The easy road was never the most fun.]

Used to, immune to, well suited to dealing with, have dealt with, will continue to deal with, have lived, loved, and slept with, fought with, and worked alongside men like you for most of my life.

[It was why he made his career out of being a thief. Nothing else would suit him.]

We'll figure out the deets when the time comes, Goldie. Not before. There's very little to bargain with here.

[One last sideways, appraising glance before she stands and extends her hand.]

In that case, I am in.

[Awkward handshake with his off hand, but it was a classic gesture that cemented their deal and their friendship. Even if their feelings would never, ever be realized, her companionship was enough.]

Excellent. You'll be on hand if I need it? [Depending on how long his shoulder took to heal, he would need it.]

But of course. LeBlancs and Lupins. They must stick together, yes?

[She gives his hand a gentle squeeze before dropping, sense memory of holding his hand, ruffling his hair, curling up next to him flickering up. She blames the wine, and the mood. It didn't matter, it wasn't real. And it never would be.]

Maurice would be glad to know, I think.

[The memories were an everyday thing for Lupin. His own mixed with Red's, different perspectives coloring the other and blending into one. It was strange, having these memories and ideas that he never would have otherwise, but he was okay with it.

They had friendship. That was something.]

Good ole Maurice. He'd be very pleased if he saw this, that's for sure!

When I was younger, well. As long as he lived, if what Degas said was true- my father was of the opinion that every LeBlanc should have a Lupin. [Her eyes go a little distant, but her smile remains bright. Sincere.] Someone mad. Someone creative, manic, inspiring. Degas was my father's Lupin. For the entirety of my life, I assumed that Remy was mine.

[And for the entirety of her life, that had been true. But now? She has the real thing. And it's wonderful in it's own way, strange memories and experiments aside.]

I do not think I have been so glad to have been wrong before.

...You flatter me, Adele. [Especially since she wasn't wrong--she was dead in her world. They both knew that. She was dead and he was just a manic bastard that would carry on like normal when he returned to his home, living on the threads that are woven into dreams.

He chuckles.] I'm just me, and I'm just doing what I always do. If that has fulfilled someone's dreams in this strange black hole between worlds, then I see that as a job well done. At least somene here understands the artistry in being a thief.

I've told you about LeBlancs and what they think of compliments and flattery, haven't I Lupin?

[Dead and gone in her own, but here. Here she has time yet, and a Lupin all her own. It almost makes being here worthwhile, knowing that she's met a man like him, that she could help him find a way home. Even though it would mean returning to that night- she doesn't mind it. Not anymore.]

Of course there's an artistry to it. Smashing and grabbing is crass; messy. Jackson Pollock. You and your Grandfather? Monet. Manet. Da Vinci- beyond compare on every level.

[She described it as if it were a noble vocation, the art of being a society person and a thief at once. Compared to the norm? It was nice.]

It's an honor to be compared to such greats, Adele. I'm just a humble man that loves his job, above all else.

[Adele comes from a family of romantics. She's allowed fanciful notions every once and awhile- especially where a Lupin was concerned.]

I do not know if I would go so far as to say you are humble, Lupin. But you do love your work, and that is what matters.

[She's more than allowed. Lupin made it his own task to make some of these fanciful notions a reality.]

Hah~ Maybe you're right on the humble, but at least I have fun!

[This deserves a toast all it's own. Adele turns and settles back on the roof, pulling out the bottle of Brandy Zenigata had found for her. Without even knowing. She raps her nails on the ornate glass, thoughtful. One small glass, and then, perhaps, down.]

And sometimes fun is all you need.

Got that right.

[He eyes her curiously as he drains his own glass, and settles back in next to her. It was a nice looking bottle. Brandy. French.]

Saving that for something special?

Edited 2012-04-27 02:01 (UTC)

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