He woke a little while later, feeling slightly better, though not a ton. He shifted slowly onto his back, taking a breath and staring up at the ceiling. So. Drinking was out while Lorna was around, and he didn't have any decent substances. Seems he was clean until he got rid of Harrison. He glanced over at her side of the bed, but it was empty, so he pushed himself up into a sitting position and then worked his way out of bed, getting his balance before heading for the stairs. "Harrison?"
She'd done the only thing she could do; she made a grilled sandwich. She couldn't do anything about the situation in HQ, and even if she could she was on forced leave. And making the sandwich hadn't been easy. Sebastian's kitchen wasn't exactly what could be called well-stocked. When she heard him coming down the stairs from where she was eating over the sink, she swallowed her latest bite to call over her shoulder. "In the kitchen!"
He headed in, nodding at her and pulling the biggest glass he had out of the cabinet, filling it with water.
She finished off her grilled cheese and brushed the crumbs off her fingers and into the sink. "Feeling any better? You seem to have regained your senses, if you're going for the water."
"I would be going for the booze, but you wouldn't let me so, honestly, what's the point?" he muttered, taking a sip of water and heading to sit at the table.
She smirked, cleaning up after herself and following to sit across from him, tapping her fingers on the table. "The hit on Magnussen failed."
He glanced up quickly, then grimaced as his head protested. "Shit... Jim'll be furious..." He stood, heading for the stairs. "I need to go in..."
She snapped her fingers. "Uh-uh. You're not going anywhere. How are you going to explain your condition, let alone work in it? Don't be a fool."
"You've been using that word a lot lately," he grumbled. "I'll tell him I'm sick. Was how I got time off in the first place." He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Of course, he won't let me anywhere near him," he grumbled.
"Yeah, so sit your arse back down. You're just going to get yourself killed. Have you forgotten how easy that is to do?" She gave him an expectant look. "I'm helping. Sit."
He waved her off, thinking. "He won't kill me," he muttered. "I'll text him," he decided. "See if he wants me to video call 'im... Good. Yeah. Where the fuck's my phone..."
"He won't. Someone else might. Survival of the fittest. And I have it. I thought you might be stupid when I told you," she snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Sit."
"Give me my phone," he muttered, walking back over to sit in front of his water. "Let me text him. He'll be fucking furious if I don't contact him. More so, anyway."
She frowned at him for a moment, then pulled his phone out of her pocket. "Fine. But play it fucking safe, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, reaching out to take it.
Just heard about Magnussen, sir. Still sick. Would you like me to video conference you? SM
Jim had been working furiously for hours, delegating tasks and receiving incoming information with the speed of a supercomputer. He only gave a token glance to his phone on the off chance that it was someone important who had texted him.
It will only make me busier. No. JM
He nodded at the response, texting the only logical response.
Anything I can do to help? SM
Don't get killed. Magnussen's people are out for blood, and you're at the top of the list. JM
"Charming," he sighed, tossing his phone onto the table. "Nice to know he still cares." He took another long gulp of water.
"Well, I've always thought of him as a father figure," she quipped, reaching up and undoing the bun she'd put up earlier. "You're going to have to piss like a motherfucker later."
"Yup," he agreed with a sigh, considering the water. "So, what were you up to before I interrupted?"
"Stealing your limited food," she shrugged. "I didn't wake up much before you did."
"No... Well, yes. But I meant yesterday," he said, kicking his feet up on an empty chair.
"Oh, nothing. At all. I've holed myself up. My brother works for the other team, so to speak, and I made the mistake of visiting him just as shit went down. He knows what I do. I thought it would be better to stay off his radar."
He made a bit of a face. "Best keep that from Jim, just saying. He would be less than thrilled to hear that."
She shrugged, sighing. "Why can't he know? He's a way in. If it's my brother or me, it will be me, every time. Jim might be thrilled."
He raised an eyebrow, turning that over. "That's true," he agreed. "Your gamble."
"Yeah," she muttered, thumbing a scratch on a table. "It'll depend on what move they make. If they fuck too many of our people up, I'll have to give him up. I can live with it if I'm the one to do it. I won't watch someone else do it, though."
He nodded a little. "Like I said. Your call." He finished off his mug of water with a sigh. "What's the damage look like in there?" he asked, tilting his head towards the living room.
"It looks like you took a jackhammer randomly to each of the walls. You're not going to be able to patch those up on your own. The rug may still be salvageable."
He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "The downside to having combat training," he muttered. "I'll get someone in here to repair it later this week."
She nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me. Fuck, though, you're lucky I'm supposed to be clean or I would have just joined you. I was never one to refuse a drink."
He nodded just a little. "Well, that wouldn't have been too awful. Would have passed out soon, anyway." He stood slowly, starting to examine the food in the kitchen, looking for anything that seemed appetizing.
"Okay, I'm lucky," she muttered, stopping herself from rubbing incessantly at the table and twisting in her chair to keep her eyes on him out of habit. "You've got some fried fish in there that doesn't look too bad. Though that may be a bit too greasy for you."
"Greasier the better for a hangover," he pointed out, heading over to the fridge and pulling out the fish. "Well done not drinking, then."
"The threat of death is a good motivator," she snorted, rubbing her temples. She got a lot of headaches, now that she was cut off, and her insomnia certainly hadn't improved any. "But I'll admit what I'm really not looking forward to is the blood test. I've had enough of needles for a lifetime."
"When is that, anyway?" he asked, tossing the fish on a plate and into the microwave.
"Four days. They want to catch me as I'm coming off break so they know any alcohol I may have had hasn't had time to truly get out of my system," she sighed, picking up her phone and idly scrolling through a few text messages from Malcolm, who was reminding her to eat.
He caught a glance at the screen over her shoulder. "How is dear old Malcolm? As pathetically needy as ever?"
"Yes. But it's hard to fault him on it. His neediness was probably the only thing keeping me alive for a little while." She sent back a brief reply assuring him she'd eaten so he wouldn't feel the need to spam her inbox, then set her phone down. "Unfortunately for him, though, he's doubtful ever to be anything more to me than... well, for lack of a better word, a rebound."
He snorted slightly, pulling his fish out before the microwave could beep at him and heading back over to the table, grabbing a fork on the way. "Gee. How shocking."
She rolled her eyes, then looked down again as her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with the message. Unknown number. She unlocked the screen, read the message, then turned the phone around and slid it across the table so Sebastian could read it, her own face draining of blood.
In the spirit of fair play and lingering familial ties, I'll give you a head start. Someone with the initials MH pointed us your way. 3 Eric.
P.S. - You're not the only one on the list, so maybe you'll get a full day while we're busy.
He stared at it for a long moment. "Son of a bitch," he breathed, shaking his head. "How much you want to bet the other one on the list is me?"
Lorna raked a hand through her hair, letting out a puff of breath. "I wouldn't bet against it if all I had on the line was a pound. The question is how long until they find this place?"
"Excellent question. Let's not wait to find out, shall we?" he asked, standing, hangover put on the back burner. He picked up his phone.
Holmes blew our cover to Magnussen. Going dark for a while. SM
He headed up the stairs to gather what little important possessions he had in this place. "Get anything you don't want exploded."
"I have everything," she shook her head, patting herself down to make sure. She hadn't exactly brought much to his place, and the phone she had on her now was only going to end up broken in some alley. She'd have to deal with living in the same pair of clothes for a little while. Hopefully they could hole up somewhere with a shower.
He nodded, coming back down with a pack, sliding a gun into his shoulder holster. He tossed a few credit cards from his wallet onto the counter and poured oil over them, tossing a match behind and stepping back from the blaze, walking over to pull new ones out of a drawer, along with a couple of passports, sans photos, and a few stacks of cash. He tossed everything into the pack. "Right. Time to go," he said, starting to pour more oil around, the flames beginning to spread.
She tossed her phone into the growing fire, already half out the door. At least she'd had the forethought to leave her safe house with several knives on her person. "Want me to hail a cab or do you want to leg it on foot for a few blocks?" She asked, stepping out of the flat to give him room to leave and shut the door behind him. There wouldn't be evidence of the fire inside for a few minutes at the least.
"Legging it. We'll take the underground, harder to track." He tossed her a hat. "Keep your face hidden."
She nodded, tucking the hat under her arm briefly to put her hair up, changing her profile as much as she could, then putting on the hat and her jacket hood over top. She trotted down the stairs, tucking her hands into her pockets to keep ahold of at least one of her weapons at all time. "Where are we going?"
"Good question," he said, nodding a little and pulling on his own hat, a stetson. "But seeing as they could be listening to us, just trust me for now."
"Alright," she agreed without hesitation, mentally taking a picture of him in a stetson to amuse herself with later. At least she knew now where her loyalties really lay. Not with her brother.
He headed down the stairs and out the door, pulling out what looked like a car remote as they neared the street, and pressing the alarm button. Behind them, there was a startling concussion as the apartment blew.
She swore, instinctively flinching away and ducking her head, then shot him a dirty look, jogging a few steps to catch up with him. "Warn a girl before you loose C4 on the place, Christ."
"I did warn you. Told you to grab anything you didn't want blown up, if you recall," he said, slowing to a walk as people started to stop and gawk at the fire. "Slow..." he warned, glancing over his shoulder as if noticing the fire for the first time and grabbing her shoulder, pulling her around and pointing. "Try and ham it up for the cameras..."
"Please, I'm a better actor than everyone you know, except for the Boss," she scoffed, already smoothing a wide-eyed, half-scared, half-awed look onto her face like a well-worn mask. It wasn't hard to act scared around flames - she was goddamn terrified of them.
He started pulling her back through the crowd as people moved forward, an arm sliding around her shoulders. He pulled out his phone as though taking pictures.
She kept pace with him, only letting her face fall blank when they were nearly a block away. It was either a benefit or a disadvantage that she was with him; on one hand, they wouldn't be looking for two people together. On the other, if they were gunning for him first and they succeeded, she was that much closer to being next in line. She glanced up at Moran. "Do you think they'll try to kill us outright or take us?"
"Knowing Magnussen's knowledge fetish? Take us, I'd imagine, but honestly, who knows?" he said, pulling her with him into an alley and starting off in the direction of the nearest underground entrance.
"Great. I don't know which one I'd rather have, to be honest," she muttered, resisting the growing urge to take off the hat. It felt stifling.
He nodded, pulling out his cell phone and dropping it carefully into the shopping bag of a woman walking past, after checking for any messages from Jim. He turned down the street towards the nearest underground. "Keep up."
She bit back a snappy retort, just picking up her pace a bit to make up for the differences in their strides. There was no time to be sarcastic. She nodded at the sign of the nearest entrance. "There we go."
He nodded as well, ducking into the stairwell, keeping his head down so that the brim of his hat hid him from cameras. He grabbed two coats off the rack of a tourist shop and tossed a hundred to the owner as they passed, tossing one to Lorna and pulling the other on himself.
She yanked on the coat, vaguely proud of not tripping down the stairs in the process, and nudged Moran, bringing his attention to the nearest tram. If they didn't have anywhere in mind, it seemed like a good bet to her.
He nodded slightly, heading in that direction, leaning in to say softly. "Different cars. Take it to Oxford Circus and get on the Red Line to Greenford Station. I'll meet you there."
She nodded, peeling off from his side immediately and disappearing into the crowd, picking the last carriage so she wouldn't have to watch her back constantly. Part of her was concerned about taking the underground anywhere while people were looking for them. So many cameras, so many people that could be looking for her face. It was easy for her to disappear, yes, but how easy was it for someone else to appear next to her? She climbed onto the last car and took an empty seat, keeping her head low and her eyes down.
The next two hours were a maze of trying to confuse any followers as much as possible. Finally, he met with Harrison at Greenford station, and started walking, loading two train tickets on his phone and flashing them at the collector as they walked through. "We're going to the country to lay low for a while."
"If you believe that will do the trick, I'm not going to argue," she murmured, incredibly relieved to be next to someone as strong and good at hand-to-hand as he was. And the added benefit of having a nice train to sit still in for a while wasn't bad. Still. She doubted this would get them away scott-free.
They boarded the train, sitting side by side, and he handed her a paper. "Did you lose anyone on your tail?"
"I thought a man in an over-sized sweatshirt was following me for a while. If he was, I lost him. So much for my brother's head start," she snorted, shaking it out to start scanning through it idly. "I hate to think that this has been too easy, though. They have Holmes on their side. For this, at least."
He shrugs. "I'm not sure how much he wants to risk involving himself. Playing the local tip line is one thing, but actively getting involved..."
She shook her head, shrugging helplessly. "I'd have thought the same thing if he hadn't sent along a signature. That means he cares enough to let us know that it's him having us hunted down." She sighed, folding up her paper and setting it in her lap, glancing out the window as the train lurched into motion. She didn't want to worry about their chances of survival. They weren't too good. Throw in a man with access to satellites and they dropped like a sack of rocks.
"Jim'll help us if it gets too bad," he said, as if reading her mind. "We're worth too much to him for him to abandon us to Holmes. He'll enjoy the challenge."
"We're worth a lot, but he didn't exactly help the last time. I got us out of there. I'd say 'we' but your biggest contributions were keeping me from freezing to death in that room and mostly walking yourself out. God knows I cannot carry you," she chuckled, resting her elbow against the window so she could lean her chin on her hand. "Excuse me if I don't have much faith in Jim."
"Yes, terribly sorry for getting tortured for about seven hours longer than you," he shot back. "I did say when they started beating me with hot iron "Oh, please don't to that, terribly inconsiderate to make Harrison have to half-carry me out', but they ignored me."
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I wasn't accusing you of not pulling your weight. You pulled what you could. More than most people could. I was pointing out that the last time we hoped Jim would pull us out of the fire, you got so fucked up that it fell to me. That doesn't happen often," she said quietly, turning her gaze back to the window. "I'm trying to be realistic about our odds. I think it's better not to be an optimist in this situation, don't you?"
"Jim would have pulled us out if things had gotten bad," he said firmly. "They weren't, not dangerous, so he didn't. He'll help us now. Always has, always will."
She sighed, dropping her head from her chin to rub at her eyes. "I don't often believe that someone can play Jim, but if I had to pick one it would be him. He's won before."
"When? He's never done something Jim hasn't predicted. He's easy game." He shook his head a bit. "I don't trust many people. But Jim Moriarty will get us out of this mess if we need him."
"I noticed that nobody was asking how Sherlock Holmes made it down from that roof without getting his skull smashed in when he came back. There was a lot of excitement about it, yes, but not a lot of questions. You don't think the older Holmes didn't have something to do with that?" she raised her eyebrows. She didn't blame him for not asking questions. It wasn't easy to ask questions of Jim.
"Jim knew how he did it, or at least down to several possibilities. He always knew that was a possibility. Look, do I seem to be one inclined to blind faith?" He started scanning their fellow passengers as the train got underway.
"No," she admitted, turning to add her eyes to his in their scan. "But there's always a chance you're wrong. I mean, it's a slim chance, but I don't want to risk underestimating him. I rather be pleasantly surprised by Jim."
"Suit yourself," he said, nodding a little. "I'm not saying I'm going to be lax. I'm just saying we've got a better system than they do."
"I'll give us that. We haven't been weighed down with bureaucracy. Yet," she snorted, noting a few people with children. Unlikely that they would be suspect, but she wouldn't write them off.
He nodded a little at that, keeping an eye one a woman in an ill-fitting jacket similar to theirs. "Huzzah for that."
Lorna looked out the window again for a few minutes, trying to keep them from being too conspicuous. "So have we got a place in the country somewhere or are we going to stay at a charming little B&B? I haven't had blood sausage in ages."
"I was going to find some remote shack, but maybe somewhere with a civilian presence wouldn't be a bad thing. More people around to keep an eye on the suspicious, even if it's us." He shrugged.
She nodded. "The power of small towns is legendary." She pulled her mp3 player out of her pocket and put an earphone in on the ear closest to the window. "No one suspicious asks for a charger cord, though, so I think I can make us look a little normal. Maybe you should work on looking meek. Sometimes I'm surprised even I give you lip."
"Yeah. Six foot two with a scarred face and a shoulder holster. Very meek." He smirked. "I'll try. Any tips from the grifter?"
"Apologize profusely with every step you take. Knock a few things over, be generally endear-" she glanced at him, giving him a scolding look. "Okay, I'm not sure if sarcasm was necessary."
He grinned. "I'm guessing that's not 'endearing'. I'll have to work on that."
She bit back a smile, turning her face away so he couldn't see if she broke out in one anyway. "Uh huh. I'm sure you will. It's alright, I can be more than charming enough for the both of us. I have excellent people skills."
"Want to take up our Italy personas? I'll be the well-meaning but unsatisfactory husband and you can be the energetic entrepreneurial wife." He picked up a magazine, starting to flip pages.
"I'd say yes, but I'd need a lot more alcohol to keep up that kind of energy," she scoffed, drumming her fingers against her thigh to the beat of the song on her mp3 player. They both knew that wasn't an option. "Anyway, I don't need the excuse to push a Mafia boss into bed. I suggest we're overworked stock-workers. Who the hell else escapes to the country in the winter?"
He nodded at that. "I can live with that, so long as I can let you do the talking. Your strong suit, not mine."
"Yep. If I need any of the local farmers intimidated, I'll... go get you. I just realized I no longer own a phone." She sighed. "It should be okay, unless someone wants to talk stocks with me. Then I'm going to start playing the headache card."
"We'll pick up throw-away phones once we're off the train," he said with a nod. "We'll be fine."
She nodded, reaching up to rub some of the tension out of the back of her neck. Nothing like being on the run to make you tighten up. "I'll need clothes, too. It'll get a little suspicious if I'm seen wearing the same shit every day."
"As do I. We'll shop around a bit, get what we need, and then hole up for a bit and keep our heads down." He turned the page in his magazine.
"Sounds positively cozy," she snorted, leaning her head back against the seat and closing her eyes. "I'm going to get caught up on the sleep I missed out on last night. Kick me if anything exciting happens."
He nods a little, settling back to quietly observe the train over his magazine.
Two hours later he nudged her awake with his foot as the train neared their station. "Up."
She was up in an instant, the part of her brain that kept running in the background violently reminding her of the multiple reasons she couldn't be slow about getting up, and near about jolted right to her feet before she realized the train was still moving. Slowly, but moving. "W'most there?" she mumbled, rubbing hard at her eyes. "Wherever 'there' is?"
"Yeah, we are," he said, straightening his tee-shirt a bit. He'd taken a moment to pull on a proper pair of trousers, but other than that he felt incredibly dressed down.
"S'long as that's it," she sighed, relaxing a bit and trying to get her hair into order now that she knew that weren't under immediate attack. "I feel a lot better. Been a couple hours at least, then?"
"About two and a half," he said, nodding. "Once we're off the train let's just find a store and go from there."
She nodded, looking out the window as the train started slowing, scanning over the little town they were entering. "This place isn't too small. Shouldn't be hard."
He nods, starting to scan the platform as they stepped off, putting an arm around Lorna loosely, mostly so he knew where she was in the crowd.
She did her best to avoid being a hindrance as they started moving, keeping herself in the limbo between too slow and too fast. She wondered why he'd chosen this as their stopping place. Had he been here before, or had this been a random choice? She deftly kept a pickpocket from dipping a hand into Sebastian's backpack as they started moving through the crowd to the street, giving the kid a light slap on the wrist. "This place doesn't appear to be much nicer than the London Tube," she muttered.
"No, it's just poorer," he said with a bit of a smirk. He headed towards the train station exit to the main streets.
"I don't think either of us is strictly wrong," she snorted, glad to be heading out of the crowded station. She liked lightly scattered crowds at ritzy parties, not mobs of people who smelled like they'd never heard of, let alone seen, a shower their entire lives. She'd done her time on the streets, and she wasn't keen to relive them. When they finally broke out into the open, she was glad that he'd given her this oversized jacket. It had dropped a few degrees. "You don't think it will snow, do you?"
"I'm hoping not, but we'll get some gear all the same." He started down the street. It was a small city, in the center of a vastly rural area. "We'll shop and then get a taxi out of here." He headed for a hair salon.
Lorna gave him a slightly fearful look as she saw where he was steering them. "You're not making me cut off all my hair, are you? I take great pains to keep gum out of it so that precise thing doesn't happen."
"Was thinking more of a dye job," he said, smirking a bit. "I'll get a buzz, and we'll tip heavily with suggestions of silence."
She groaned, holding up a lock of her hair and looking at it mournfully. "Okay," she muttered sullenly, glaring at the front of the barber shop. "Let's get this over with."
"You can choose the color!" he laughed, heading in.
A half hour later, he was flipping through a magazine, hair freshly shaved clean, waiting for Lorna.
Lorna went into the salon a brunette, and she came out a redhead, looking mildly put out. She stopped in front of him with her hands on her hips, her mouth set in a thin line. "I'm going to kill my brother for this, I swear, I'll do it."
He glanced up, and smiled, eyes going a bit dark. "Damn. You should be a redhead more often," he smirked, standing. "Let's go get some cloth to go with the cut, shall we?"
She gave a slight wave of her hand in a show of acquiescence, leading the way impatiently. She did not want to be in a place that smelled strongly of hairspray any longer than she had to. "Any opinions on how I should be dressed? The likelihood of me being upset with your suggestion is about nil."
"If I had my say, I'd be all for slinky and scantily clad, but honestly, sweaters and dress pants are probably more character-appropriate."
She chuckled, looking up and down the street for a nearby shop, and, spotting one, started down that way. "I still need underwear. You're not out of luck yet."
"Ooo... Lovely. That sounds like that could head in a very pleasant direction," he smirked, following after her. He sighed. "You know... It wouldn't be a bad idea to pick up some concealer or something to cover up these scars," he said, indicating his face. "They're pretty distinctive. Do you think you could manage to cover them up?"
She glanced at them, then nodded. "Yeah, no problem. I've covered up worse," she shrugged, grabbing hold of a strand of red hair and holding it up so she could look at the color in the light. "We could probably get something that'll work at the drug store."
"Alright, add that to the list," he said with a nod, entering a department store. "Right... let's find some ill-fitting, ill-made clothing and move on."
She held out her hand. "You might as well give me some money. I'll move faster if I don't have to hunt you down in the men's department," she hummed, already standing up on her tiptoes to start looking over the racks. "I can throw my shit together and be back in ten minutes."
He nodded, passing her a few hundreds. "Get a wardrobe. I'll meet you by the exit. Stay away from windows." He paused for a moment, then bent to kiss her, straightening. "See you later, honey," he said, with just a touch more volume, nothing too conspicuous, before turning for the elevator.
She remembered just in time not to look surprised, and turned in the opposite direction. In eleven minutes she was back in front, a bag full of loose sweaters and mildly flattering trousers in hand, along with a few pairs of skimpy underwear that she'd gotten almost as a joke, but mostly because she had to feel prettier with all those baggy sweaters.
He joined her a few minutes later, with his own bag, and a large suitcase. "It'll look odd if we just arrive with shopping bags," he pointed out, pausing open it and place his clothes inside, motioning for her to do the same.
"Good point," she agreed, dropping her own bag in after his. "Alright, let's find a place with good concealer. Prepare to have me manhandle you around the store trying to find the right tone."
"Sounds thrilling," he mutters blackly, letting her set off to whatever store she felt appropriate.
She pulled him along a few streets until she found a drug store, waving him in ahead of her and putting a finger in the middle of his back to push him towards the makeup aisle. "Alright, just stand there and look pretty for a few minutes."
"Piece of cake," he sighed, trying to look as annoyed as possible. "Just get it over with."
Lorna scoured the aisle. There was nothing that pulled equal attention with scars as poorly matched, splotchy foundation. In a few minutes, she found one that matched his skin tone. "Alright. This'll do. Just don't sit by any fires. The light will cast shadows where there aren't supposed to be any."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said with a nod. "Can you put it on now? The fewer people who can ID me from these things, the better."
"Out of the store would be better," she shrugged, nodding towards the door. "It will look weird here, and there's cameras to boot."
He nodded. "Let's get some toiletries and go, then," he said, heading for the next aisle.
She hummed in agreement, following him. In a few minutes they were outside the store again, toiletries in the suitcase and the foundation in Lorna's hand. She pulled him to the side, under the overhang. "Hold still."
He tried not to make a face as she put it on. It felt odd, but it was necessary. "Alright. Can you think of anything else we need?" he asked, trying not to move his face too much.
She capped the concealer and stowed it in her pocket, shrugging. "No. I think we have everything a vacationing couple normally has, right? We only have the one pair of shoes each, but I don't see us dressing up during this, so I don't think that'll be a problem. We just need a place to stay."
He nodded. "Right then. Off we go."
He hailed a taxi, and within ten minutes they were out of the city, watching hills and cows pass by the window.
Lorna spent a few minutes looking out the window, then she was fiddling with her hair again, eventually pulling it up into a ponytail so she couldn't see it. "What names are we going by in front of strangers?"
"Excellent question. What are your thoughts?" he asked, smirking and reaching out to tuck an escaping curl of hair back.
"I don't know, I think our names are quite nice and it's a shame to have to change them. I'll usually answer to Lana. That 'L' makes me look up every time," she rolled her eyes, internally analyzing how much of Sebastian's behavior was practice for feigned domesticity and how much was the red hair.
"Alright, Lana it is then. Do you want to name me? Or shall I think of something? I can answer to anything once I've thought about it enough." He sighed, trying to stretch his legs out a bit in the small car.
She shook her head. "No, you do it. I've never liked naming things. I start to stress out about it," she shrugged, watching a field full of sheep go by.
He sighed, staring up at the ceiling, before finally coming up with "Alec. Clean, sounds like it could be old money, no one will bother with it."
"Alright. The difference in hair should make it easier for me to remember. I don't think I've ever seen you with it so short." She fished a pack of gum out of her pocket - another lucky thing that had been in her jeans - and popped a piece into her mouth. "Want one?"
He nodded, reaching over to take one. "Thank you. My mouth still tastes like stale booze and fried fish. Not a pleasant combination." He sighed, rubbing at his eyes a little. "Once we get there and get things scoped out, I'm taking a nap."
She nodded. "Yep. And I had one on the train, it's only fair. I'm not at a hundred percent, but at least I'm not tired and hungover," she shrugged, giving him a sympathetic look. "I assume we're going small? Mom and pops place kind of deal?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Never somewhere I've been personally, but I've had my eye on it. It should be a good place. Only way to get to it is to drive or get a taxi. It's in the middle of nowhere with a wide open plain all around. No way to sneak up. "
"I have to commend your planning skills and extreme caution. We'd likely be up a certain creek without a paddle if you didn't spend most of your days strategically planning out things down to the furniture placement," she chuckled, looking out the window in a vain attempt to see it. She missed the expensive cars at HQ, with the soft leather seats and the legroom fit for a basketball player. She didn't miss Sebastian's driving.
"One experience like this where you haven't planned and suddenly you learn," he says, watching as the bed and breakfast showed up in the distance, a rambling estate with a cheery house at its center. "There we are."
"Nice place. They must get good business, during the travel season. Bit dreary for it now," she commented, glancing out the window to get a look at the gray sky, which seemed to still be debating upon whether or not to dump frozen rain on them. "I'd say I hope the proprietor isn't too chatty, but you can't run a B&B and be the kind of person who lets strangers go by without gossip exchanged."
"Which is exactly what we want," he says easily. "She's a Mrs. Hull. You put on a good smile for her, and she'll love you, and be happy to gossip to us about anyone that comes in who seems suspicious."
She gave him a good, satisfying frown just so she wouldn't feel one building up in her during polite conversation, then dug out the spare money from shopping, noticing they were close, now. And the cabbie would not be giving them a cheap fare for having him take them all the way out here. "Whatever you say, Alec."
"Thank you, Lana," he returns with a smirk, sighing in relief as the cab stopped. He left Harrison to deal with the fair, hopping out and stretching his cramped legs before unloading their luggage. Once Lorna stepped out, he headed for the house.
She followed a step behind out of habit, looking up at the house as they got closer. There had been money here at some point. Now the house was perhaps a little less taken care of than it could be, but it still had charm. Not that she cared.
He carried their case with ease- it was mostly empty, anyways- and they entered the lobby-dining room-lounge combination that was the first floor. A bell rang as they entered, and a woman's voice came from behind a door marked 'Kitchen'. "Be right with you folks!"
Lorna gave the place a once-over for any cameras or surveillance equipment, but the place looked clean to her. And, equally as actually clean. There wasn't a speck of dust to be found. "Okay, this is better than bunking at a chain motel."
"Thank you..." he said with a smirk, as a small woman bustled out to greet them.
"Oh! Hello, dears. We don't get too many people out here this time of year, you'll almost have the run of the place. Can I get your names?" She looked at Moran and he gave a shy smile and looked at Lorna. The woman hardly blinked, redirecting her expectant smile.
Lorna immediately broke out into a grin, reaching out to shake Mrs. Hull's hand. "Hi, we're Lana and Alec Jacobson. We like going places during the off-season, we're not much for crowds," she smiled genially, wrapping an arm around Moran's waist and giving him a squeeze. As much as she could sell the shy giant routine, she would. "I looked on the website - you're Mrs. Hull, right?"
"That's me!" the woman said, smiling brightly. "Please, though, call me Heidi. I'm thrilled to have you both," she said, smile widening as Moran leaned into Lorna's embrace just a bit, tucking her under his arm. "Where're you folks from?"
"We're in from London," Lorna replied, pulling a mock, exaggerated grimace. "You would not believe how nice it is to get away from it all, good lord. Such a relief to get some fresh air, to de-stress, you know?" she hummed, looking up at Sebastian and putting on a face that was almost pitying. "My poor Alec, he's just been so tired lately." That would help smooth over any lingering effects his hangover had on him.
"Oh, I know, dear. Those cities, they kill you! That's why I'm way out here in the middle of nowhere. Just this house and the land and the open sky! Why, there was a young man we had in here last year, came out because of a heart attack, of all things! A heart attack, at 27, I tell you! It's all that stress..." She sighed, shaking her head. "How long will you be staying?"
She gave a carefree shrug. "Honestly, I really can't say! We haven't had a good vacation in years, and now that it's starting to take a toll on our health - we'll just have to see, you know?"
"That's just fine! During the busy season we're all booked up, but this time of year we can easily take it day to day. I've even got the honeymoon suite open, if you're interested. It's got a lovely view..." She smiled, evidently eager to please.
She gave Moran an excited nudge in the side, positively beaming. It occurred to her that neither of them had rings, and she'd made a bit of a foolish mistake already introducing themselves as husband and wife... they would just have to improvise, and hope their bare hands would go unnoticed. "Oooh, really? I really do love a view, that would be fantastic!"
"Then come right up and have a look, get settled in, all that. Whenever you like I can show you around." She smiled and headed for the stairs, motioning for them to follow.
Lorna let her smile relax somewhat as she started following Mrs. Hull up the well-worn wooden stairs, fighting the urge to rub at her cheeks. It was difficult being so un-ironically cheerful for any amount of time. When they reached the first floor landing, she took a quick glance down the hall. All the doors were set a good foot inside the walls; good cover, if things came to shooting.
Sebastian followed a few steps behind them both, with their suitcase in hand. It was two more flights up before they reached the top floor, and Mrs. Hull led them down to the door at the end of the hall, pushing it open. "Just in here. Dinner's at 6 p.m., but don't hesitate to find me if you need anything before then. Any questions?"
"No, I think we're good. Unless Alec has any questions, that is," she smiled, patting her "husband" on the shoulder and relieving him of the luggage to carry into the room. She wasn't the strategic mind Sebastian was. If he needed to know something, she was unlikely to ask that question with a shot in the dark.
He shrugged a little, taking his time to climb out of the shell he'd put himself into. Casual. "Not really... Though..." He hesitated, then gave a shy smile. "Lana's always trying to get me to socialize more. It'd be nice to get to know some people while we relax... Is there anyone else staying here?"
He was instantly smothered in excited encouragement as Mrs. Hull took off, telling him all about the lovely couple downstairs and 'those boys in 2D, not brothers if you ask me, but that's not my business. But if it were I've always supported that sort of thing, you know, the dears,' and the couple from Ledeworth with a little girl they'd left home-
He managed to extract himself about fifteen minutes later with a sizable mental dossier of the current residents of Mrs. Hull's B&B, promising to ask if they had any more questions and see her at 6 sharp for dinner as he shut the door, immediately dropping into a scowl. "Jesus, she's a walking mouth."
She'd managed to unpack their suitcase in that time, folding and storing their clothes neatly in the antique chestnut dresser. His things were on one side, and hers on the other, and it was a lot more neat than it would have been if she were alone. "I noticed. I'd have done it, but it would have looked a bit weird to have you whispering your questions to me like a schoolyard secret."
He nodded with a sigh, walking over to the window, pleased to see it was actually a sliding door which led out to a wrap-around balcony. "This is perfect."
"No kidding. I love the decor," she smirked, purposely needling him, then came to the conclusion that now wasn't really the best time for that. "No, yeah. This place is built like it's ready for a siege."
He nodded again, walking across the room to lock the door before dropping his backpack, starting to unload their more... sensitive equipment to check it over. Night vision goggles, compact sniper rifle, a plethora of other guns and ammo, knives, a box of bugs and other surveillance equipment, and two bullet-proof vests. "Christ, that thing was heavy," he muttered, rolling his shoulders a little.
"Fucking hell, you were carrying all that in a damn backpack?" she laughed, a little amazed. He hadn't looked like he'd been under any strain at all. "Moran, I'm pretty sure you may actually be a mountain."
"Wasn't time to complain," he said with a small smirk, checking over to make sure there wasn't any obvious damage before packing it back in the bag for the time being, snapping a lock around the zipper and tossing Harrison the key before finally falling onto the large bed. "Nap."
She nodded, sinking into one of the armchairs facing the sliding glass door. "I'll stay up, make sure no one managed to tail us right away. After six hours I think we're in a little less immediate danger, but until then..."
He nodded, already partially unconscious. "Tap out if you need to..."
She didn't bother responding, since it was unlikely he'd even remember it, and settled down for a good, long sit.
When he drifted back into consciousness, the room was dark, and the world outside was dimly lit with the last dregs of the sunset. He scrubbed at his eyes, looking over at Harrison. "Hey..."
She shifted in her seat so she could look at him. "Hi," she replied, then inclined her head towards the tiny fridge in the corner. "You missed dinner. I brought back what wouldn't be absolutely vile cold."
He nodded his thanks, sitting up slowly and reaching up to rub at his shorn head, not used to the feel yet.
"Mind if I conk out for a while? I'm starting to get that weird dry feeling in my eyes," she murmured, reaching up to rub them with a yawn. Unlike him, though, she was going to get into something actually comfortable.
He nodded, standing and walking over to the fridge, pulling out the plate of food. "Go ahead. Anything interesting while I was out?"
She got up stiffly from her chair, moving to the dresser and pulling out the pair of pajamas she'd gotten herself earlier. "No. I met a few of the other patrons at dinner. They're all thoroughly boring people," she snorted, getting out of her clothes with clumsy hands. She was more tired than she'd anticipated.
He nodded just a little, mouth full of bread and roast beef, watching her change out of the corner of his eye.
Eventually she managed to get out of her street clothes and into her sleep clothes, and took over the lukewarm spot Sebastian had left on the bed. "Wake m'up if you need me," she yawned, burrowing into the covers and dropping off the sleep almost immediately.
He mumbled something in response, glancing towards the bed longingly before returning his gaze to the road. He glanced at the clock. In an hour he'd go downstairs and see if Mrs. Hull had any coffee.
Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, well
It surely means that I don't know
- Kansas - Carry On Wayward Son -
Playlist: Kansas - Carry On Wayward Son