pullmeoutalive | Ramey

[ She takes a look around- it really is a mess, but it suits him ] It's okay. It's nice to see you treating the place like home.

[ She then moves to the couch, sitting down and motioning for him to join her. ] Those men are from your old mercenary group, aren't they?

[ He shuts the door behind her softly, hesitating when she gestures for him to sit beside her. But, right, it's just sitting. He can manage that, at least.

So he does, with all the trepidation of a schoolkid about to be lectured. ]

They are. Were. Jaws— [ he probably means "the guy with the teeth" ] —was Wickman. The Greaser was Rivera. The guys with the muscles were Devlin and McKenna.

[ Then, as if the observation needs voicing, ] They're fucking assholes.

[ When he sits, she puts her hand on his knee. She's always been a very tactile person anyway, but right now she feels he needs the reassurance. ]

Yeah, I kind of noticed that.

Look, Peter, if you want me to, I can make it so they can never set foot in here again.

[ When she reaches over, he has the sinking sensation that the other foot is about to drop, and he braces himself for impact, for the inevitable, "I need you to leave." Which means he's already nodding, eyes cast down to the floor.

It takes him a second to realize what she actually said, though, and his gaze darts up to her, confused. ]

What?

[ that's it that's all he says. ]

[ She tilts her head a little ] I'm asking you if you want me to ban them.

I— [ He searches her face, slightly tense. Banning them is a matter of course, he figures, and she doesn't really have to ask him that, but he answers anyway: ] I mean, yes. Of course. They're fucking pricks, and they're gonna treat the girls like shit, so— yeah.

Plus, they're lousy tippers, so.

Peter, honey, that's not what I'm asking. That confrontation rattled you, so I'm asking for your peace of mind.

[ That confusion? Still totally on his face, and he pulls back a little. ]

Does it really matter what I think?

Of course it does. You're my employee, but more than that, you're a friend. I want you to feel safe and welcome here, always.

[ He takes a moment to just— stare. Because in the thirty minutes he's spent stewing in his apartment, he had already mapped out the course their conversation would take. And maybe Peter's just used to certain type of people, or maybe his panic clouded his judgement, but— he's pretty sure they took a wrong turn, somewhere.

Which is why he ventures carefully, ] So, wait. Are you... you're not gonna ask me to leave?

What? [ And now the reason for his panic becomes apparent. That confrontation did more than just rattle him- he thought it was going to be grounds for expulsion. ]

Sweetie, I knew you came with big, bad leather coat-wearing baggage when I took you on. That doesn't change all that you've done for me, or for the girls. You'll always have a place here.

[ ... Oh.

His gaze drops again, because there's only a certain amount of sincerity he can take in one sitting, and, well, that was a whole lot, judging by the look on Madigan's face, the tone of her voice. That vice around his chest loosens a little, and that tight coil of fear shrinks, and finally he feels like he can take a deep breath. He swallows hard, hands twisting together. ]

Thank you. [ Slightly croaked, granted, but he means it – and he's a little surprised by that. It's been such a long time since he's felt like he had a place of his own, and he lets himself revel in that brief flash of warmth.

Just for a little while.

He licks his lips, taking another deep breath, then, ]

... I... I should leave, though, probably.

[ Again, it takes her a second to realize just why he says that, and she shakes her head a little ]

How much do you know about how this club works?

[ Is— is that a rhetorical question, he wonders, or...

He frowns a little, unsure of what kind of answer she's looking from him, exactly, or even if she wants an answer at all, but he shrugs a shoulder and gives it a shot. ]

I dunno. People come in, get some drinks, have some fun? They get too handsy, the wards kick their ass. Long as they're inside, anyway.

That's about the long and short of it, isn't it?

Well, yes, but it operates with the support of the wizarding community as a whole. Hell, some of my employees are the daughters of very, very influential people. It's a safe, controlled environment for girls who posses the closest thing to healing magic wizards have had in generations. Here they can train and offer their services to the whole community. There is no other place like it on Earth.

This is more than just a place where people can come to have fun. It's essentially holy ground. Your old buddies may seem big and scary, but if they come after you, I'll tell every client I have that they've essentially declared war on the Griffonix. They'll never work again.

So I really hope their boss is smart enough not to go there.

[ For a second or two, Peter does his best impression of a fish out of water, lips parting with several false starts. Then, slowly, ]

... Oh.

[ Evidently, someone didn't brush up on the history of the Griffonix before accepting board here. Whoops. ]

So... [ A pause, as he tries to gather his frayed thoughts. ] So— when you say "ban," you don't just mean "from the premises," do you? Like, we're not just talkin' getting a couple mugshots and pinning them onto a wall under a plaque that says, "Do Not Serve"?

Edited 2016-09-25 04:21 (UTC)

[ She giggles ] No, when I say "ban", I do mean from the premises. Most people don't push much further than that. If they do, then I'll get nasty.

[ Her giggle earns a sort of half-hearted look, like he's offended she's laughed at him, but it's gone as soon as it arrives. ]

Okay. Good. I was about to say, that seemed an awful lot like calling in the nukes after a guy gets punched.

[ In response to both his look and his comment, she actually pouts a little ]

But what if that guy who got punched is my favorite guy?

[ When she says "favorite guy," his mouth twists a little to one side as he casts her a slightly doubtful look. ]

Pretty sure it's still an overreaction, no matter how you dress it up.

But you are my favorite. I like watching you lift heavy things for me.

[ He breathes out a flat little laugh, pulling his hand through his hair. ]

I'm probably only your "favorite" because I lift heavy things for you.

To-may-to, to-mah-to.

[ She gives his leg a pat before hauling herself off the couch ] By the way, I've got something for you if you want to follow me upstairs. I might even be persuaded to share some dinner if you wanted.

[ He hesitates again, if only because he needs to recover from being blindsided twice in one evening. He hadn't expected the old gang to show up, sure, but he never would have expected Madigan to be so understanding about it all. There are days when he thinks turning back on that deal with Eyeliner might've been the stupidest, most insane decision he's ever made in his life, but some days? He thinks it might very well have been the best. ]

Who am I to say no to the possibility of free food?

[ He gets to his feet, both hands in his pockets, and nods to the door. ]

I'm right behind you, then.

I hope you really like Hamburger Helper, because that's totally what we're having.

[ Madigan is many things, but she's not exactly an expert chef. Still, she guides them up to her own apartment above the club and everything therein. Madiga tries her very best to keep the place neat, since now she has a nephew who pops in and out whenever he pleases, but she's fallen a little behind lately. The mess may not be as extensive as Peter's place, but the apartment is hardly pristine. ]

Sorry about the mess.

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