He woke early the next morning, and lay there for a few minutes, turning the night before over in his head slowly. Then he shook his head a little and sat up, careful not to disturb Lorna. He headed to take a proper shower and clean up.
Half an hour later he was shaved and dressed, in the elevator, heading up for his meeting with Jim. He paused outside the door, wondering one more time whether he was about to be shot, and knocked.
"Come in," Jim called, in his usual bored way, reading over the newspaper, mostly because he'd set it down on his desk to protect it from his breakfast. He didn't normally have breakfast, but when he'd made a big expenditure of energy the night before, he indulged. He didn't regret his decision. In fact, he was interested to see what effect it would take.
Moran walked in calmly, closing the door behind him and walking over to his usual place, standing at parade rest. No unusual signs as of yet. It appeared Jim had eaten breakfast, which was a small victory as far as the bodyguard was concerned. His employer was frequently far thinner than Moran as his bodyguard deemed healthy. "Good morning, sir. We were going discuss the Armetti situation."
"Mm. Right. Take a seat, if you want. Or not, I've noticed how strangely uncomfortable you are when you sit in those chairs," he rolled his eyes, cleaning up his breakfast and pushing the trash into the rubbish bin.
"Yessir," he said, nodding a little and sitting down, though it was true he was less comfortable. "Have you considered my suggestion?"
"I have. But I wanted to know a little more of what you thought of him, first," he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together in his lap. Lorna had been right; she had left a mark on his neck.
He glanced at the mark, but schooled it away quickly. "He's a pretentious bastard. Intelligent, insane, but oddly honorable and humble if you catch him in the right mood. He accepts when he's wrong, which is an interesting trait for someone in his position. I personally despise him, but professionally, he'd be a good asset and I'd enjoy strong-arming him."
He nodded, drummed his fingers on the desk a few times, then leaned over to turn on his computer. "Consider him part of the American branch, then. Pick out someone reasonably reliable to head the expansion. Someone who won't make stupid mistakes, preferably. I tend to like my employees with their hands completely functional."
He nodded with a smirk. "I look forward to informing him of the new management. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."
"That dislike goes both ways, does it?" he smirked, glancing at Moran from the screen with something akin to mischief. It wasn't hard to guess what the animosity was about. He returned his gaze to the computer. "Yes, I imagine his reaction will be satisfying. What does Harrison think of the expansion? I don't particularly care, but we haven't mentioned a name or breathed the air in here of someone she hasn't fucked, so I assume she has a perspective."
He sighed. "Yes, they have a history. It shouldn't be a problem. She may actually be useful in communicating with him. He seems to sort of worship her." He took a breath.
Jim smirked, and refrained from making the obvious, rather crass statement along the lines of 'Well, with that ass...' and simply typed in a few things on his keyboard, adjusting his schedule. "I'll keep that under advisement. Now, unless you had something else you wanted to cover..."
He debated for a moment, but decided if Moriarty wasn't going to bring it up, he sure as hell wasn't, at least for now. "No, sir. That's all." He stood.
"Oh, do inform Harrison that if she leaves visible marks above my clothes-line again, I shall be very displeased," he said dryly, and without looking up from computer. "You're dismissed."
Again.
"Yessir," he acknowledged, heading out the door at a brisk pace.
Again. There's going to be an again.
He shook his head just a little, slightly mystified by whatever had come over his employer, but then pushed the confusion aside and headed back to his apartment.
He keyed in, and shut the door quietly behind him. Harrison seemed to still be sleeping, so he headed for the bedroom, debating whether to wake her by cuddling or a bucket of cold water, just for the hell of it.
He compromised, walking over to the bathroom and running his hands under cold water for a few minutes before drying them off and climbing into bed, pressing his frigid digits against her warm back with a sigh of content.
"Wh' the FUCK!" she squawked, waking up fast and jerking herself away with a sleepy, uncoordinated motion, then fall back into stillness, face buried in the pillow, a muffled groan coming from her. "Owww. Seb, what the helllll."
He laughed, pressing his fingers against her back again and sighing in contentment. "I wanted to see what it was like to be you for once. You're right. This is nice." He relented, pulling the blankets up over her back again. "Morning. How are you feeling?"
"I thought the 'ow' covered it," she mumbled, reluctantly moving back over as his fingers started to warm up. "How did your meeting with Jim go? I assume you already had it."
"It went fine. We're going to make Armetti our American branch. I look forward to informing him of that." He wrapped his arms around her gently. "He also would like me to inform you that if you leave marks above his clothing line again, he's going to be displeased."
"Again. Interesting," she murmured, muffling a yawn into his chest. She hurt, but it was only slightly unpleasant. Most of it was the kind of satisfying she got after sleeping with Sebastian. "God, I thought I was done sleeping with crime bosses."
"Me, too," he said with a smirk. "And yet here we are." He shook his head a little. "You fucking called this, too."
"Did I?" she raised her eyebrows a little. "I don't remember calling a threesome with Jim a few feet away from a still-bleeding corpse, but I won't argue."
He shook his head a little. "Jim wanting to fuck me, remember? The threesome and the corpse were, admittedly, outside the scope of that prediction."
She had another twinge of doubt. That prediction had been from a time where this thing between them had been fleeting and inconsequential; now, she was very much committed to him. "I'm a little surprised he didn't kick me out, to be honest," she sighed, pulling the covers up to her chin.
He shrugged. "He seems to be considering you part of the equation, given his commentary," he pointed out, rubbing her back gently.
"Yeah, I guess being surprised at one specific thing kinda seems a waste of time," she snorted, a little bit reassured.
"Yeah, especially given the entirety of that situation," he snorted, before sitting up. "Alright, well, I need to break the bad news to Armetti," he said gleefully.
"Alright," she sighed, rolling onto her stomach and looking like she had no plans on getting up. "If you're feeling particularly nice you could bring me some coffee. But, you know, it's optional."
He raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment, pulling out his phone as he headed for the kitchen and dialing Armetti. He'd had the number ready.
Vince Armetti had spent the last six months continuing business as usual, trying to forget the ache Lorna Harrison had left in his heart. He regretted spending that night with her; it'd brought it all back, and it'd made it just that much harder to watch her go. So when he got a call with an area code from London, he answered it with embarrassing enthusiasm. "Hello?"
"Mr. Armetti," Sebastian greeted in an oddly cheerful tone. "This is Sebastian Moran. How are you today?"
Vince's face fell. His tone did, too. He hated Moran. "Fine," he said shortly, jaw tight.
"Excellent. I'm calling to make you a business offer," he leered. "We have a sizable budget allotted for expansion within the United States. Now, we have several options among your competitors- Mallory's old network, for example, if... overreaching... did have sizable hold within the Americas, and his former second in command is eager to make amends. However, Mr. Moriarty- for reasons which are his own- feels you would be a valuable leader of his American division. The choice is yours, of course, but you should consider that a sizable portion of that budget will be dedicated to eliminating competition. If you aren't the beneficiary of that budget..." He trailed off, still sounding smug.
Vince mouthed a swear, glaring out the window onto the street. The sun was just beginning to rise. It took him half a minute, but he finally responded. "Fine. It's a deal. Send me the contract and I'll have it approved by this afternoon."
"Excellent. I'm glad we could do business," he sneered. "I look forward to working with you to improve and expand your operation."
"Fantastic," he replied, voice dry, and then hung up, unable to maintain an air of civility any longer.
"Christ, that was the most fun I've had in a long time," he said, starting to laugh as he tossed the phone onto the table.
Lorna walked out of the bedroom, wrapped in a sheet, walking just a tiny bit stiffly. "Coffee," she yawned as she passed him, heading into the kitchen.
"Right, sorry, I forgot," he said, heading after her. "He's agreed."
"He's usually a fast adjuster. Knows when he's beaten," she mumbled, banging around until she found the bag of coffee beans. "He will, of course, be bitter for a little while, but you know, shit happens."
"I couldn't possibly care less if he's bitter," he sighed cheerfully, walking over to prep the coffee maker. "I've been wanting to do that for months."
She chuckled, grinding up the beans and then pouring the grounds somewhat messily into the machine. "You hold grudges, you know that? This one is kinda cu-" she cut herself off with a cough, hiding a smirk in her hand.
"You better not have been about to say what I think you almost said," Moran said, voice low, eyebrow raised.
"I know better than to invite certain death, c'mon," she shook her head, carefully not looking back at him.
"I think you're lying," he muttered, walking over to bite the back of her neck slowly.
She gasped, hands going to grip the counter. This had not been the reaction she'd expected. But she wasn't sure she should be surprised, really. "What if I am?"
He reached up to get a grip on her neck, his hand making it well past halfway around. "I might be a bit annoyed by that," he muttered, pulling her back against his chest firmly. "My feud with Armetti is hardly 'cute.'"
She felt like her heart was going to beat its way out of her chest. And she was embarrassingly turned on. "Yeah? What are you going to do about it, then?" she said softly, a hand on his wrist, more on principle than anything.
He tightened his grip on her neck just a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to be uncomfortable. "Does this feel familiar?" he asked huskily, sidestepping her question, lips brushing her ear. "Jim had you like this. You went belly-up for him. And for Armetti. Sometimes I think you forget who has a claim on you." He slid his free hand over her hip.
"I've never gone belly-up for Armetti," she breathed, squirming just a little under his grip. "I know you have a claim on me. I love it."
He let out a skeptical hum, finger tracing over the marks Jim had left on her neck, relaxing his grip on her just slightly. The hand on her hip slid over her belly slowly, pulling her back against him further, teeth nipping her ear. "I am not someone who shares well. Remember that." Then slowly he relaxed his grip, finally leaving her free and moving to get a couple of mugs for coffee.
She let out a mildly unsteady breath, trying to calm her heartbeat, and as she picked up one of the mugs from the counter she thought that maybe the caffeine wasn't really necessary anymore, but she'd drink it anyway, just to look like he hadn't completely broken her so easily.
He smirked slightly to himself as he poured his own cup. He could see her fingers, pressed white against the mug, and brushed a hand along her shoulders as he passed by to sit at the table.
"You're an evil, evil man," she muttered, suppressing a shudder and pouring her own mug before sitting at the table.
"I feel like we both forget that sometimes. Reminding was in order," he smirked, sipping his coffee.
She took a sullen sip of her coffee. "Hmmph."
He shrugged, still grinning. "I might need you to help with Armetti, actually. Calm him down throughout the process. If you're up to the task.
"What, over the phone? I'm not sure how that's supposed to help," she raised her eyebrows.
"Phone him, skype him, hell if I care. You work odd magic with him." He shrugged.
"Alright, if you feel it's necessary," she shrugged a little, sipping from her coffee. Then she smirked. "But I can't promise I won't try to rile you up about it."
"If I feel it's necessary," he agreed, glaring at her a bit. "This is a last resort sort of thing."
She laughed. "That's fine. I have no desire to speak to him. Your claim is completely safe and unchallenged."
He grinned then, flicking her knee before standing and walking over to the sink to rinse out his mug.
"So... where do you think Jim will strike next? God, it'd feel weird if he showed up at the door..." she shook her head, sitting back in her chair with her coffee, determined to enjoy it. "We don't exactly make it a habit to fuck where someone might just... show up."
He shrugged. "Fuck if I know. Who knows if he even will? He could just be toying with us." He picked up his phone, starting to go through messages.
"Yeah, I wouldn't put it past him," she sighed, finishing off her coffee and standing to dump the dregs in the sink. "It's working, if he is."
The message seemed innocent enough, among the dozen others, but as soon as he read it, his gut tightened.
Update overdue. MH
There were 26 letters in the Roman alphabet, and millions of people in Europe. Hundreds had to have the initials MH. But instincts were worth a lot in this business, and his assured him that there wasn't a doubt in the world.
He saved the number, and deleted the message quickly, keeping his face as passive as he could, mind racing.
"Alright, I've been awake for my allotted time, I'm going back to bed until someone finds a job for me," she yawned, fixing her sheet toga and shuffling back out of the kitchen.
He didn't respond, even though she'd only been up for about ten minutes, and walked over to pull up his laptop, starting to search, and search, and search... trying to trigger memories, anything ...
Am I a double agent?
Lorna was sitting in the break room a few days later, reading over a file Kelly had asked her to look at. He'd asked so timidly, and she was so often bored these days, that she didn't have the heart to say no. Sebastian had seemed a little off these past few days, which was why she was here, and not in his - their? - flat. Maybe he needed a little space.
Nothing. He'd found nothing. Spent the last few days tearing the flat apart, searched every file on his computer, checking phone logs. Finally, he had no choice, and pulled up the number he'd saved.
There have been complications. Request orders.
The reply came with little delay.
Report operations and developments. Details, if applicable. Soon. MH
"Fuck..." he muttered, sitting down and setting the phone gingerly in front of him, staring at it for a while. Then he shook his head, and deleted the message. He couldn't deal with this.
Do you know your enemy?
- Green Day - Know Your Enemy -