Author's note: Hey, everyone. Sorry about the slow update. Midterms... were a thing that happened. I have a decent amount written, but this is the last complete chapter in my buffer, so updates are going to be more sporadic from here on out.

Another warning, regarding how I'm writing Roman, for this chapter and upcoming ones: He's a bad guy, and not a particularly nice person, and I'm doing my best to portray that faithfully. Much as I may want to, I'm not going to gloss over his bad character traits or dubious moral values. Therefore, he's going to be a racist a**hole to the faunus, both in general and specific individuals, from time to time. Not to a greater degree than he is in the series itself, but it's going to be there.

One week later: Vol 2 Ch 1 "Best Day Ever" happens.

I get no respect around here. I steal (almost) literally every speck of Dust in Vale, and what do I get for thanks? Why wasn't this job done sooner? and You'll know when it's time. Ugh. Freaking fire witch. And that little shit Emerald stole my lighter. Hate her.

At least Mercury is funny. Sometimes.

Nah, I hate him, too.

And now I have to get the animals to move everything to some Dust-forsaken place at some unspecified coordinates? Oh, yes, that's going to go wonderfully. If I had anyone to make bets with, I would start a pool for the number of explosions they cause before they're done. And put my money on ten or more.

I was halfway into my apartment before I realized the lights were already on and Ozpin was sitting in his usual armchair (Dust, how did this become my life?), sipping at a steaming mug and reading something from my book collection.

"For fuck's sake, don't you have papers to grade or... first-years to terrify or something?"

He chuckled. "One of the perks of being headmaster is delegating those kinds of things."

I rolled my eyes and turned towards my liquor cabinet. On top of which was a... pot of tea? "Ozpin, when did I acquire a teapot?"

"It seemed fitting that, since you so graciously provided drinks last time, I should provide them this time. I only brewed it half an hour ago, it should still be hot."

Seriously, how did this become my life?

No, really, I want to know.

Ugh.

Fuck it.

I poured myself a cup of tea, (liberally spiked with some cheap alcohol, which was all that was left in my liquor cabinet) and sat down in my usual chair.

This was apparently a thing now. Might as well make the most of it.

Immediately following:

Roman appeared as surprised as I was that he didn't simply walk out. I'd half expected him to turn around and leave the second he saw me. Judging by his continued refusals and Qrow's reports of his increasingly bad temper towards members of the White Fang, Roman didn't respond to pressure well. If put on the spot he was likely to run, and if he couldn't run he would lash out and do exactly the opposite of what he was being pressured to do.

I knew I was making a very large gamble, showing up in his home a third time. But I had a feeling that he wouldn't object to my presence, if I made it clear that I wasn't here as the Headmaster of Beacon, but rather as... a friend? An acquaintance? I had no idea what level of familiarity Roman would accept, or if this was even the correct approach to take, but I thought he would accept (or, at least, not immediately reject) a new relationship that wasn't entirely antagonistic. There seemed to be very few of those in his life.

To make matters even more problematic, I was working entirely from Qrow's impressions of him. Qrow and I tended to see... different things in people. Where Qrow might see someone as thick-headed and ambitious, I was more likely to think of them as strong-willed and able to turn their drive towards a goal which is beneficial to all. Needless to say, Qrow - and Glynda - often call me an incorrigible optimist for seeing the best in people, even when I may not be entirely justified in doing so. I always ask their advice on these things for that very reason.

Qrow had told me Roman was quick-tempered, vain, bitingly sarcastic, a compulsive liar, vindictive, misanthropic, and exceptionally prejudiced against faunus; however, he was also extremely intelligent, good at improvisation, and a skilled tactician. He had the talents to be an impressive spy. I could handle the bad if it meant getting the good part of him working for us.

I just wasn't sure how.

"So," Roman began, "whatcha reading?"

Well, that was a better start than I had dared hope for. "I noticed you had a copy of Olive Twist; I've been meaning to read it for quite a while and now seemed as good a time as any to start."

"Hmph. Should have known you're a sucker for idealistic rubbish like that."

Maybe not such a good start… "What do you mean by 'idealistic rubbish?'"

"Oh, you know, the so-called 'bad guys' will always get what's coming to them and the alleged 'good guys' will be rewarded for their steadfast faith and blah blah blah. We both know life doesn't work that way."

"I like to hope that it generally does."

"Pft, please. Bad people will always take what they want, and if they're any good at it they'll never get caught. Good people will always talk about how they're going to make the world a better place and how everyone is really a nice person somewhere deep down, but they're just deluding themselves and everyone stupid enough to believe them. This is really good, what kind of tea is this?"

The abrupt change in subject threw me for a second as Roman got up to refill his mug (without the addition of alcohol this time, I noted). I spared a moment wondering if that was a deliberate act on his part or if he really was impressed with the tea.

"I'm not sure what its full name is. One of my friends at Mistral sends some to me every year for the Solstice, and she just calls it 'that black tea you loved so much when you last visited.' I think it's some variation on assam."

"Mm, ask her sometime and then tell me." He froze for an instant, most likely chastising himself for the unspoken assumption behind his words – that I would be coming back – but moreover for implying that he could want me to come back. He recovered quickly, though, and returned to his chair.

I smiled, and pretended I hadn't noticed. "I'll try to remember."

We sat in silence, sipping our tea, for a while after that. Roman was watching me pretend to read the book, rather obviously looking away whenever I looked up, and I let him. The entire point of this was to encourage him to be comfortable around me. After about five minutes of this he broke the silence.

"Okay, we both know you're not here to drink tea and debate shitty literature, not to mention you've been staring at the same page since I walked in. Why are you here?"

There was no way I could tell him the real reason without scaring him off, but I also couldn't resist playing with him a little bit, especially with a setup like that. "You are half correct, I didn't intend to discuss literature." I went back to reading.

Roman's eyebrow shot upwards. "Seriously, that's all you're going to give me? You don't want to talk, fine, we won't talk!" He stormed over to the bookcase, yanked a random book off the shelf, and flopped back down into his chair to read it.

"Roman..." I began, and paused to consider how to continue. He clearly still considered me a threat. If this was going to be productive at all, I needed to end that now. "I meant it when I said you were the one in control. If there's something – anything – that you would like to talk about, I would be glad to do so."

He gave me a speculative look. "So… what's the code to Beacon tower?"

"Anything but Beacon's security," I said with a smile.

Roman rolled his eyes. "Don't get a person's hopes up like that."

We passed the rest of the evening with our tea and respective books. I left when the tea ran out, but didn't take the teapot with me. Roman should have a little warning that I would be back, and I should probably back off a little bit. He seemed to need a bit more time to adjust to the concept.