redjacketthief | Appointments

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)

Clavados Couperne. A type of apple brandy made in Normandy. This. [She taps the label.] Is my father's favorite brand. He'd seal every deal and partnership with a glass. A small glass, but, a glass none the less.

[Her smile is soft. Private. And terribly warm. She breaks the seal and pours herself a small glass, then nods to Lupin's.]

Tradition, huh? That's cool. [He extends his glass, intrigued by the notion of taking part in someone else's legacy.]

So this is your nod to him, then. [Not a question.] I take it that this means we're partners?

[She pours him an equal measure, caps the bottle, and returns it to her bag. Lifting her glass she taps it against Lupin's with a half smile.]

It does. Unless you take issue with that. In which case-

Give me back the brandy and find your own way down. [She huffs a laugh.]

What, and say no to good brandy that's freely given? You're out of your mad little mind if you think that!

[He winks playfully and take an appreciative sip of the brandy, satisfied with the turn of events. Just a few months ago, he wouldn't have been able to imagine reaching this point with Adele. Now? It was an interesting change.]

I'd only be taking a page from your book, Red.

[She grins and sips her own, lost for a moment in a sea of nostalgia. The smell of it- the crisp cut of apple over her palate brings to mind the dusky notes of her father's cologne, the warmth of his laugh, the wry twist to his smile. Gabriel LeBlanc had been a simple man, under it all, but a good one.

She misses him dearly.

if Lupin's any kind of considerate he'll ignore the fact she's teared up, just a little.]

[He can, and will ignore her sudden sentimentality. The familiarity of their interaction was enough for him--it was the ground work before a job, the scent of thrill and fight on the horizon, the promise of some kind of adventure. Injured though he was, he wanted nothing more than to rally his own people together and get to work on the Fountain's foundations in the tunnels. But--time. Discretion.

He needed to be a little patient with this one.]

You don't need to take a leaf from my book, Goldie. You're starting to show me what's in yours.

There's not that much to my book. Not really.

[She wipes at her own eyes and enjoys the last small mouthful of her brandy. She hadn't poured much, because the bottle was the only one she's seen. And she doesn't want to go through it quickly. Who knows when she'll find it again?

As it was, the hour was late and Helios might begin to worry if he finds her still gone. She packs up her tumble and waits for Lupin to finish as well.]

There's enough, Goldie. Enough that you can take some credit for things.

[It's not a compliment so much as his observation of the truth as he was starting to see it. Underneath the layers of harshness, sarcasm, and tough love was a really nice woman who really needed to smile more often. Perhaps it was the Shift that taught him these things. Perhaps it was just time.

He drains his glass and passes it off to her when he notices her packing up.]

Feeling better?

Some, but not all.

[Never everything. Her own work, such as it was, didn't encompass the entirety of the end result. She might set a bone, but the body finished healing. She might take this shot, but the gun and bullet knock the can aside. In truth, she doesn't mind it so much, not anymore. There's less pressure on her this way.

The glass is accepted, set into the bag, and she stands. Takes a deep breath of the evening breeze, and looks over with a soft, sincere smile.]

I do. Thank you Arsène.

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