"How the fuck did he even find out about me? Why the fuck would he ask for you?" she asked, with no hope of receiving an answer. She tugged on her shirt, and tried not to look completely murderous. "Couldn't have fucking waited until tomorrow fucking morning, could he..."
"I'm chief of staff," he said, straightening out his own clothing. "It's possible he knows nothing about you and just has a problem with his contract or men. Alternatively, it's possible he wanted to find out more about you before approaching you."
She nodded, raking a hand through her hair, still a little agitated. She didn't like this, not one bit. With Eric dead, her familial ties had all been severed - there was almost no one left in the world that someone could try to hurt her with. And now a man who just happened to have contributed to her a significant portion of DNA had appeared in the lobby, and he was headed here. "Fuck. Alright, whatever, this is fine. If he's here for me, I'm just not dealing with that shit tonight. Night off. Not doing it."
"Go to your apartment if you like," he said, pulling on his shoulder holster and then his jacket. "How much shit are you going to give me if I end up killing him? Not that I care, just assessing."
"Zero shit. No shit at all. The man left home without so much as a cheery goodbye, and he didn't come back. My mother said he went off to go climb the criminal corporate ladder. Sounds like he didn't make it as far as he'd hoped," she snorted, heading for the door to the living room. "I'm going to hide in your kitchen with that bottle of vodka."
"Don't get too cozy," he muttered, heading for the door as someone knocked. "I might need you." With that, he watched her enter the kitchen, then pulled the door open.
Carl Harrison was standing on the other side. It was immediately evident where Lorna had gotten her good looks from; lingering vestiges of sexual appeal still clung to his aging form, and he had the same grey eyes and sharp chin as his daughter. He'd only heard about her in the network, Moriarty's fucking network, that very morning, and he still wasn't quite sure what had made him drive in to the main headquarters, and demand to see the man who was widely rumored to be sleeping with her. But still, he had some sense left in his head, so when the (frankly, imposing) Sebastian Moran opened the door, he quickly came up with something to say.
"Hullo, sir," Carl said, nodding a little. "I was informed today that my daughter works in this building, and that you..." he coughed a little, trying to edge around the limits of what was acceptable to say to one's superior. "That she might be with you."
He smiled slightly. It wasn't friendly. "Is that so? And because of this you felt it necessary to insist upon seeing me at this hour? When was the last time you saw your daughter, Mr. Harrison?"
He was undeterred, though he felt a small surge of contempt in his chest. "When she was a child, sir. That's why I felt compelled to take the chance on seeing her again."
"I see. And you feel this couldn't have waited until the morning," he said, sighing a bit mournfully, though his expression was mocking. "How touching. Please, by all means." He motioned for the man to enter, eyes challenging.
Carl was perfectly aware of the irritation the other man was feeling. He just didn't care. He wasn't a subtle man. He spent his days killing people, brutally and simply. People weren't really his area. "Thank you," he nodded, stepping over the threshold, eyes immediately roving the small flat. He could at least approve of the utilitarian furnishings. "Is she here?"
"How did you find out about her working here, Mr. Harrison?" he asked, not allowing the man more than a few feet into the room and deliberately ignoring his question. "I don't appreciate loose tongues in my organization."
"I do contract kills. Mostly low-brow targets. Sometimes I get called in for interrogation tactics," he shrugged, looking around the flat again. "She live in her own place like this, too? She's doing well for herself. Not the life for her I would have wanted, but... hmmph."
"But you weren't around," he said with a small smirk. "I'm well aware of your daughter's record, Carl. I keep a close eye on the records of all of my valuable employees. You left when she was five, was it? Six? Where you went I'm afraid I don't know, I haven't had a chance to glance at your records."
He knew that was a dig at his worth, but Carl was remarkably good at not letting things get to him. He killed a lot of people with his bare hands. You had to have a tough skin for that sort of thing. "Six," he nodded, as if that were a perfectly normal thing to do. "I didn't think I should be bringing crime into the house. Then Katherine went and married that drug dealer. But what can you do?" he snorted, looking back up at Moran. "I'm not exactly pleased Lorna decided to follow along those lines."
"I'm sorry to say I disagree with you. She's made a startlingly good grifter," he said with a smirk. "Though given your diplomatic skills exhibited so far, I'd wager she got that from her mother."
"I didn't mean her career, though I'm less than happy with that. I meant her choice in bedmates," he said dryly. Before the situation could escalate (because how could it not, with the way the conversation was going) Lorna stepped out from the kitchen, leaning against the wall with the bottle of vodka hanging loosely from her hand.
"So were you planning on belittling my choices to my face or is your boss good enough to serve that purpose?"
Moran's hand was on his gun, but he relaxed it as Lorna stepped into the room, taking a quiet breath. Not yet. That deserved better than a quick kill.
Carl's attention was immediately on her. "Lorna," he breathed, walking over towards her slowly.
She immediately made a face at him, taking a swig from the vodka before shaking her head at him. "Why the fuck are you approaching me? Uh uh. You stay where you are. Father or not, you're a foreign annoyance who interrupted my sex life tonight. You come any closer and I'll bean you with this bottle, I'm not kidding."
"How much of that have you had?" he asked, making a bit of a face as she took a swig. "And you really think that fucking your boss is the best thing to be doing? I'm approaching you because I haven't seen you in years and I'm trying to say hello."
"One: A lot. But less than I used to, so I don't give a shit what you have to say about it. Two: Yeah, I do. Besides the obvious boost to my job security, he's hot and I like him. Three: I literally do not give a shit." She paused to take another drink. "You left me. I didn't toddle my little ass out the door without so much as a 'Seeya, kiddo,' and I sure as hell didn't fucking miss you. My stepdad was pretty cool. Bit of an ass, but I liked him. He was more of a father to me than you ever were."
"I left because I was trying to protect you," he said, a small touch of anger entering his voice, though he tempered it. "Evidently it didn't work as well as I'd hoped."
"As far as I can tell, Dad, our whole family consists of criminals. You thought you could just, what? End that? You and Mom didn't even have me in a hospital, so I wouldn't have a fucking birth certificate, so I wouldn't be in the system. If you'd been realistic about it, you would have stayed, you would have tried to give me a head start. But I guess I didn't fucking need you to. How long have you been a contractor for this network? A year? I started here three and a half years ago. Guess I'm good at the family business."
He frowned just slightly, but nodded. "Not what I would have hoped for you, but I suppose I should be proud of what you've accomplished.
"You should be," she muttered, walking over and setting the vodka on the coffee table before she turned and made for the bedroom door. "I'm done talking, I'm way too drunk for this. Go fucking sleep in my flat or something. It's unlocked."
"Why the hell is it unlocked?" both Carl and Moran asked at the same time, before glaring daggers at each other. Carl had the good sense to look away a moment later, then head for the door. "I suppose I'll... sleep there then. Thank you."
"Yeah, yeah," she waved a hand in his direction, disappearing into the bedroom. She waited until she heard the door shut before she answered Moran. "I had to go in earlier today to grab a few things for my department. Mostly makeup."
"So you lock it again, especially when there's a leak," he snorted, walking over to join her in the bedroom. "Fuck, I hate him. If you hadn't walked in I would have killed him right there."
"Best I did, then. You never would have gotten the bloodstains out of the rug," she sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'm not crazy on him. I wish he'd just stayed away."
He nodded just a little, starting to undress. He was tired and any good mood he may have been in was long gone.
She watched him for a moment, then stood and moved to unbutton his shirt as he got out of his shoulder holster. "You can kill him, if it makes you feel better. This is your night off, remember?" she reminded, just a touch of amusement in her voice.
He sighed a little, smiling a bit as she worked on his shirt. "If I see him again, I honestly just might."
"And I will give you zero shit for it, I promise," she chuckled, pushing the shirt off his shoulders and leaning up on her tiptoes to nip his shoulder playfully. Every once in awhile, she was good at defusing him. "Now let's go to bed, yeah?"
He took a slow breath, smiling just a little as she bit his shoulder. "Is that an invitation or an order?" he asked playfully, hands reaching out to smooth over her sides.
She raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. "When have I ever successfully ordered you into doing anything?" she asked, shaking her head. "Here, how's this. I cordially invite you to the mattress, Sire. Too much?"
He snorted, picking her up and tossing her gently onto the bed, grinning as she bounced and flopping down next to her. He reached out to poke her side. "A bit too much, yes."
She wriggled away from him to ward off any more pokes and leaned over to turn off the lamp in the process. "Alright, I'll try to tamp down on that one in the future. Try not to have any dreams of me in Regency clothing."
"It'll be a struggle, but I think somehow I'll manage it," he snorted, smirking as he reached over to pull her into his arms firmly. His. Fuck what her father thought.
She pressed into him a little more, shifting a little until they were in their standard sleeping position, which usually left enough space on the bed for a refrigerator, if refrigerators ever suddenly became inclined to lying on soft surfaces. As she started to drift off she couldn't help but think how much about how much she cared for Sebastian, and how little she cared for her father. Blood really didn't amount to much, in the end. Soon after that, she was dead to the world, and fortunately, avoiding Regency dreams.
He really did make a valiant effort to sleep, but the less angry he got, the more he reverted to his original state, which was turned on as all hell. Coming as close as he had to taking a shot and then stopping hadn't helped either, and he was bottled up in every sense of the word. Finally, an hour or so later, he decided tossing and turning wasn't worth it, and shifted over to curl up beside Harrison, kissing the back of her neck slowly, tongue tracing her spine.
She shifted sleepily, waking up slowly, and not sure why for a moment. Then she shifted again, a little less sleepily. "Mmm. Couldn't sleep?"
He heard her wake up and smirked, adding teeth for just a moment, before returning to his tongue. "How'd you guess?"
"I would say your breathing, but I think the tongue and teeth are what really sold it," she mumbled, arching back against him a little with a yawn, not completely awake yet.
He smirked, shifting back away from her. "Snarky even when mostly asleep," he muttered, ducking under the covers, hands finding her hips as he rolled her onto her back. "Let's see if I can't wake you up some, hmm?" He found the waistband of her trousers, and pulled them down slowly, along with her pants, shifting her legs gently apart as he pressed his lips to the inside of her now-bare thigh.
Boy, did that wake her up fast. "Yeah, that'll do it," she agreed a little weakly, although with a lot more alert. "You in the mood to make me get loud or somethin'?"
"Wouldn't be a downside," he chuckled, breath playing across her skin before he leaned forward and drew his tongue across her heat.
Time ceased to exist after that point. So she had no idea how long it was until he had her arching up off the bed, hands too busy holding on to his hair and the sheets to muffle her cries. "Fuck, fuck, Sebastian," she practically screamed, a little thankful that he was holding her hips down with one hand, because it was impossible for her to stay still. Then came the hard knock at the door, and she swore for another reason. "Who the fuck is that?"
"Better be something good," he grumbled in annoyance as he emerged from under the covers, hair up on end. He grabbed the knife from under his pillow and pulled on pajama trousers, walking over to pull the door open. He frowned in annoyance as he saw it was Carl. "Yes?"
Carl looked irritable. "If you could refrain from fucking my daughter while I'm right across the hall, that would be fucking great."
He bristled, but smirked, teeth bared. "I'm sorry, were we making you uncomfortable? You're welcome to head back to wherever it is you call home." He made to shut the door.
Carl jammed his foot into the frame, jaw set, eyes angry. "I wasn't asking, son."
He blinked, momentarily shocked by the blatant disrespect. It had been ages since someone defied him so fearlessly.
There was a reason for that.
He opened the door again, reaching out to grab Carl by his throat in one sudden motion, pulling him forward at the same time as his knee found the man's gut. He shoved him to the floor, shutting the door almost softly as he knelt, knife in hand and at Carl's throat, breaths slow. "What was that?"
If it wasn't already obvious, Lorna got her infrequent hot-blooded bursts from her father. Except usually, she knew when to be careful. Carl Harrison did not possess an ounce of caution in his body. "I said," he growled, wheezing a little, "That I wasn't asking. Keep your hands off my daughter."
He let the knife drop slowly away from the man's throat, the hand at his neck twisting him around until Moran could shove him onto his back. He kept him pinned there by his throat, a knee shifting to pin one of his arms, the knife returning to rest against his pulse. He could see the slight throb of the skin reflected as blurred motion on the blade. His breaths were still slow. "I've been wanting to do this so very badly..."
It was then that he seemed to finally grasp the danger he was in, trying to struggle out from under Moran's grip, trying to unpin himself. Maybe, at his peak, he could have made the sniper work for it. But now, it was hopeless. That was when Lorna appeared in the doorway, her mouth half open to ask what hell was taking so long. She halted there, mouth closing.