Jim had gotten dragged into having tea. Fucking. Tea. Magnussen wasn't even British, for Chrissake's. For once, he could agree with public opinion. The man was vile. That didn't change business, though. He took a deep breath. Business. Bussinnessss.
Magnussen watched the man, aware that he was irritated but in no rush as he took a slow sip from his cup. He was angry. Moriarty had interfered. And he didn't care who the man was, he had weaknesses, just like everyone else. He didn't speak, allowing the silence to drag out. Another sip.
Moriarty was perfectly aware that this was a waiting game he was going to lose; he didn't have patience. He didn't need patience. He hadn't needed patience since he was small fish, and he was giant fucking fish. "Did you want to air your grievances aloud or would you prefer to just stare me into my grave?" Jim raised his eyebrows over his tea, his Irish lilt becoming a little more pronounced, just to make the Dane work a little harder at understanding him. He gave a small smile.
"I'm terribly sorry if I've kept you waiting, I was simply enjoying my tea," Magnussen returned calmly. "I imagine Colonel Moran is dealing with Captain Watson?"
"You'd be correct," he affirmed, setting down his teacup with a clink of china. "Why? Not bothered by it, I hope?"
"Certainly not," he returned casually. "I was just curious as to his whereabouts. I like to keep track of my assets." He set down his own cup casually. "I find it amusing that you and Holmes are so similar in that regard."
"In which regard? The mucking up your remarkably slow plans?" Jim snorted, abandoning his reluctant attempts at civility. "I never claimed to have an interest in Holmes because we were so different."
"No, no, the adorable fixation with an adrenaline-obsessed ex-soldier," Magnussen retorted, unruffled.
"Obsession? Oh, I simply have to hear what brought you to this decision," Jim smirked, although some part of him felt vaguely defensive.
Magnussen smirked. "His adrenaline obsession? Is that really so hard to piece together?" he asked casually.
Jim blinked. Magnussen had succeeded - he'd been rattled, and he hadn't even realized it until he mixed up his words. What the fuck. "Apologies. That's obvious. I meant the fixation part."
"Ah. So you feel your fixation is an obsession?" Magnussen returned. "I wasn't going to take it that far, but coming directly from your own mouth... I'm impressed, Jim. I wasn't aware you would admit to it."
"It was a simple slip of the tongue," Jim waved off, shrugging slightly. "Doesn't matter. I'm still curious as to why you think I have a... fixation."
"Slips of the tongue in a language as controlled as ours are more telling than almost anything else," the man smirked, before inclining his head slightly. "I won't reveal all of my cards, but you aren't the only one who employs eyes, Jim, dear. Dinner for two seemed cozy."
"He is my bodyguard," he said coolly, perfectly aware that he had lost whatever upper hand he had had from this meeting taking place in his office. "And a good one. Better than yours, obviously, since I only require the one. Taking him to a restaurant where people outside my employ knew I would be was an easy precaution. I never trust a late cancellation."
He laughed a little, nodding slightly. "I'm sure, Jim, I'm sure. I'm not trying to threaten, please don't mistake me. I'm well aware it wouldn't work. I'm merely amused, as I said. Now. What say we get down to business before your little pet comes to visit?"
Jim glanced at his clock. Magnussen was right in thinking that his threat would fall flat; Moran was perfectly equipped to handle his own safety. "I imagine he's probably already on his way. I suggest you hurry up and say whatever it is you need to."
"I'm merely curious as to why you felt it necessary to interfere with what I was doing?" He picked up his tea again, taking another sip.
"Oh, I thought that was clear," Jim grinned, settling back in his big, comfortable chair with ease. The chairs across from him were about a third as lavish. "You were being slow. I've done my waiting, Charles. If you had made the first move I would have been content to sit back and let you take control."
Magnussen was unruffled. "I'm terribly sorry, Jim. I was aware you had a short attention span, but it seems I gave you a little too much credit. I'll endeavor to try and make things more entertaining for you in the future, shall I? Maybe I'll hire a clown..." He smiled softly.
"Don't patronize me. I have more than enough going on in the wings to allow my attention to be on one thing for too long. Entertainment is hardly the concern. It's the decay of resources I'm troubled with. Aren't you supposed to be a successful businessman yourself? Of legitimate nature? Christ help you if you can't separate entertainment and the job," Jim sneered, leaning back and putting his feet up on his desk. Not something he would do in the presence of men more easily cowed. But Charles Augustus Magnussen played in more than just mind games. His physical posturing would hardly make Jim uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry you can't seem to appreciate the long-term value of the long game, and that you seem to have missed the portions of the operation which are already underway," Charles said in a tone that was absolutely still patronizing. "I'm not one of your lackeys, Jim, dear. We're in a partnership. Yes, I know you love to feel like you're the one in control. By all means, feel free to keep turning the wheel in your little novelty shopping cart, but keep in mind who's actually pushing this operation. We're not stopping in the sweets aisle, no matter how hard you try and turn left." His voice never wavered from pleasant calm.
Jim put on a sparkling grin. "That's just the thing, Charlie. You may not be a lackey, but you are certainly not essential. I will cut you loose and take all the candy for myself, darling, don't you think I won't. You're a convenient source of fuel; nothing more. You'll do well to look up the histories of some of my past partners. I don't ruin lives. I rip them from their hosts." He turned his attention to his hand, picking at his nails. Magnussen had so much more power over the legitimate. Jim knew he was untouchable, by the other man's methods. But there were precious few people who were immune to his, and Magnussen was not one of them. "My changeability is my one true weakness, my friend. But don't you think that it can't be yours, too. If I have to take another fucking step by myself you ought to start bringing more bodyguards with you. You may take that as you like."
Magnussen nodded, and stood. "It seems we're done here, then. But don't forget, Jim. You aren't essential either. And don't think you don't have a file or two in my possession that would bring you low. Believe you're immortal all you like, but you may want to look up a little history. It's the proud kings that make history for the craters they leave when they fall." He set his cup down, smiling. "Thank you for the tea, it was magnificent. Now, I'll leave you to talk to your Tiger, I believe he's waiting just outside."
Jim gave an unconcerned, pleasant smile. It didn't matter what Magnussen had. It didn't matter if he was brought low. He'd gotten up before, and he would do it again. "Send him in when you leave, won't you? I'd like to save the door from his knock."
"Of course," Magunessen said with a smile, nodding and heading for the door. He brushed past Sebastian on his way out. "Your boss is eager to see you, Tiger," he smiled, motioning for him to enter. Moran resisted the urge to casually snap his neck, and walked past him, shutting the door behind him.
Jim dropped the smile the instant the door was closed, resisting the urge to break something. "That man is extremely irritating," he snapped, swinging his legs off the desk. "If he's not dead when this is all finished, I may have you kill him yourself."
"I'd consider it a pleasure, sir," Moran returned dryly. "What did he do that was so irritating now?"
"There was a list of things. At the top would be the comparison he made to me occupying a wheely-car," he said snidely, his jaw set, "Lower on the list would be his insinuation that I have a fixation on you."
"I'm glad I rank lower in annoyance than the wheely-car, sir," he returned. "Did he provide any particular reason for that insinuation?"
"The dinner reservation that I took you along on. Apparently, he has more eyes than I thought. I do not like the idea of being shadowed."
He didn't like it, either, as it represented a failure on his part in his duties to his employer. "I'm sorry, sir," he said evenly. "I"ll work to rectify the situation."
"I appreciate that," he said tersely, letting out a long breath. He let silence settle over them for a moment before he could bring himself to break it. "What's the situation downstairs?"
"I'm pretty sure we have him convinced that he's in Afghanistan, sir," he said calmly. "Whether he believes that the past few years hasn't happened, I'm not sure. He's still trying to mesh the realities. But I don't think he has any doubts about where he is."
"Good work," he nodded, rubbing at his temples. Could he sneak in a nap? "How much time do we have left on the clock to work with?"
"Approximately twenty-two hours, sir. I was going to let him stew for a while." He considered his employer. "Give everyone a rest," he added, referring to those downstairs, at least if questioned.
"That sounds amenable," Jim sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes briefly. "Perhaps I will use that time to catch up on some of the sleep I've been neglecting. If I'm not awake in two hours wait another half of one and then wake me. Now go hunt down Harrison and chew her out for whatever issue you have while it's still fresh. Or don't. I can't find a shit to give right now."
He nodded slightly, not reacting to the comment. "Of course, sir." He turned for the door, reaching for his com as soon as he left. "Deploy someone to tail Magnussen please. I want them tracking him as long as possible. Harrison, my office, now." He headed to the elevator.
Harrison had been hovering around in the security room, keeping on eye on Magnussen's people and the other on Malcolm for avoidance's sake when she heard the order, and winced. She was going to have a hell of a time reasoning this one out. Still, she didn't dare delay, immediately leaving and walking swiftly down the hall to his conveniently close office, knocking once. She may have actually gotten there first.
He came up behind her, reaching past her to open the door and then motioning for her to enter. "Have a seat."
She nodded, slipping inside and perching on the edge of one of the chairs in front of his desk, all the while trying to take up as little space as possible. She was pretty sure he could smell fear.
He walked around his desk to sit across from her, eyes calm, unaccusing. "Alright, Harrison. Explain to me what happened down there."
She cleared her throat, glancing down at her feet and then at a spot just above his head in quick succession. "It's. Well. It's the dumb fucking drugs again, to put it frankly," she sighed, looking pained. "I can't- I can't look at someone being in that state. The fogginess. And I mean, I've never taken recreational nerve agents, but I've done just about everything else. Chances are we'd hit on something particularly close to home, and I.. I can't have access to that. I can't say no," she shuddered, studiously looking back down at her hands. "I know it's weak. I just... I apologize."
He considered her quietly for a long time. "You did say no, Harrison," he said calmly. "You're refusing to put yourself in a situation where you feel you would be compromised. If you feel I would be angry at you for that, you misunderstand my methods. I expect you to be able to work and handle any situation I need you to. However, I did not need you to handle that situation. And I have no doubt that if I did, you would have found yourself more resilient than you anticipate."
She swallowed hard and then remembered to nod, smoothing her clammy palms over her jeans in an attempt to dry them. "I.. I, um, appreciate your confidence, sir," she managed, flushing slightly and hating herself for it. "I didn't mean to get so worked up over this, it's just... it's my biggest vulnerability, and I'm overly sensitive about it."
He nodded, unaffected by her discomfort. "I'm aware." He stood, walking over to a fridge in the corner and returning with a bottle of whiskey, grabbing shot glasses out of a drawer. He poured them both a drink, passing one over to her. "Relax, alright? This isn't a reprimand." It should have been. He was honestly surprising himself as much as he was sure he was surprising her.
"I was expecting one," she murmured, gratefully taking the shot glass and throwing it back immediately. She could have gone for a cigarette, too, but Boss didn't like smoking in the building. "I.. thanks."
"You're a lot more useful for me if I help you figure out a solution rather than scare the hell out of you," he muttered. "Peons aren't worth my time, but you could actually become something useful some day."
She got out a small laugh, trying once to relax into the chair and then giving up entirely. She didn't visit this room often. Sebastian was hardly ever in it, for one, and the other was that she actively avoided office-like environments. "I'll keep the vote of confidence in mind, sir."
He nodded just slightly, sighing and kicking his feet up. "So apparently Magnussen agrees with you," he said casually after a moment, taking a sip of whiskey.
Her eyebrows shot up. "I don't know what it is he agrees with me about but I'm thinking that I should change my answer immediately."
"Apparently, he told the Boss that he has a fixation on me," he said with a raised eyebrow.
Lorna slowly settled back in her chair, her eyebrows staying right where they were. "Oh my god. Please do not tell Jim about this coincidence of opinions. Please?"
He smirked, downing the rest of his whiskey and pouring another shot. "I did just express a vested interest in your survival, did I not?"
She let out a nervous chuckle, feeling slightly as if she'd just managed to tango through a hail of bullets completely unharmed. "I suppose you did. Been a while since anyone's been actively interested in keeping me alive, I'll admit it."
He shrugged. "No one in our business dies of old age, Harrison. Like it or not, you're the most suited to replace me if I get downed."
Lorna shrugged, trying not to think too hard about what being in his seat would be like. Mostly because she didn't want it. "If anyone's going to break that track record, it'll be you. We'll see, I suppose, won't we?"
"I'm not planning on dying, Harrison, believe me." He offered the bottle her way.
She took it with a slight nod and did the polite thing to pour herself another shot, forgoing drinking straight from the bottle like she was tempted to. "I fucking hope not. You know how fast the Boss would turn me grey? I don't have time to buy hair dye."
He laughed a little. "Out of curiosity, what makes you so against the idea anyway. Really, not the hairdye."
She sighed. "Part of it is the Boss. I'm certain I'd fuck that up. I deal with powerful men with sex and booze - I hardly doubt my handling methods would work on him," she snorted, sipping at her second shot a little more slowly this time. "The other part is that I do not look forward to that sort of target being painted on the back of my head."
He nodded a little, not arguing. "Would you prefer I turn my focus elsewhere?"
She shrugged again, looking faintly helpless. "I'm not stupid enough or humble enough to know that you'd be hard-pressed to find a better alternative from the existing group of people here. If you find someone better than me, go right ahead. But I won't waste everybody's possibly limited time and tell you to fuck off."
He laughed. "I wasn't giving you a choice in the matter, Lorna. I was finding out what you would choose. You're right. You're the best suited for the job at the moment. I'm glad you recognize that."
She laughed, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes. "You caught me at a good time to prevent me from lying to myself."
He smiled, reaching out to take the bottle, refilling her glass and his, and then turning to return it to the fridge. "Everyone's getting a few hours off. Go relax."
She threw back the shot and set the glass down on his desk, standing with a small smile. "Good idea. See you later, then, Moran. " She turned to leave.
He watched her go, tilting the last of his shot back. A few minutes later he stood, headed towards the elevator and his apartment. Despite the fact that he didn't want to admit it, part of him was turning what Magnussen had apparently said over, wondering if there was any weight to it.