pullmeoutalive | Ramey

[She pauses, the hesitation clear. Emily wishes it were so easy to make such promises. But considering that she doesn't know the details of the blackmail itself, it's impossible for her, as Empress, to turn a blind eye to higher offenses; she can't be complacent and pretend to be ignorant about something that might affect her city in unforeseen ways.

There are always more subtle ways of dealing with things, if it came down to that, though. Corvo could help her, if this was something to be kept out of the public eye -- as long as she found it reasonable, and not an act of say... a murder cover-up, or something similar.]

As long as your client isn't a murderer, or something as equally reprehensible, then you have my word.

[ He snorts. ] You’re quite the saint, aren’t you?

No murders involved, I promise, so we shouldn’t have a problem.

[She isn't particularly bothered right now what this man thinks of her. She's doing what she believes is necessary. (Let's just hope it doesn't backfire on her, at the end.)]

We'll see.

[With this tenuous agreement in place, Emily doesn't want to dawdle.] You lead the way.

Age before beauty, is that it?

[ They may have an agreement of sorts, sure, but that doesn’t mean Alec’s going to be easy to deal with at all. As for having her behind him, well, he’s not too worried.

He heads to a nearby fire escape and begins climbing back to the roof. He spent quite a while going over a map of the city, apparently not long enough, but he should be able to make his way back to his mark easily enough. Once on the roof, he turns to her. ]

I assume you’re not gonna freak out if I run so I can make the jump, right?

[She wants to say something snide in return, but years of practice leashing her unbidden words kick in; she doesn't respond to his remark, deeming it nothing worth responding to.

She follows with ease, climbing up the ladder close behind him. She straightens her coat when they reach the roof, looking at him critically.]

Why would I? I'll be right behind you. [-she says with an edge of a challenge in her tone.]

[ He quirks a brow, noting her challenge with a slight smirk. So, this is how it’s going to be, huh? ]

Just making sure.

[ With that, he takes off, running and leaping onto the next roof over with ease. He’s not much for conversation as they go from rooftop to rooftop- he’s still trying to figure out how best to deal with this situation. He could use his wards and ditch her thanks to his camouflage and his enhanced speed, but given that she knows the location of his intended target, that wouldn’t do him much good.

He ultimately decides it’s better to keep her close for now, and in short order, they arrive back at the roof where this whole mess started.

He turns to her with a grin. ]

Try not to fall off this time.

[She follows wordlessly, tracing his path almost to the tee. She doesn't want to lose ground with him, just in case he decides to pull something with those strange powers of his. But quietly, there's a part of herself that doesn't want to be shown up by him, either. And so her footing is surer than the last time, and Emily's jumps are nearly forceful in their landing, as if coercing herself to secure her boots to the rooftop.

She looks at him a tad defiantly after their last jump.]

You're hilarious. Does everyone have to put up with your big mouth, or is the pleasure all mine? [She sounds more annoyed than actually irritated.]

I usually work alone, so nobody has the pleasure of dealing with me but me. This really is your lucky day.

[ He shrugs, moving to a gaudy skylight in the center of the roof, all swirling, ornate metal and wide panes of glass. There appears to be a library or observatorium of sorts just inside, and about a ten-foot drop to the floor. He crouches near the lock at the base of the skylight, glancing over his shoulder at her. ]

Keep an eye out, would you?

[She refrains from rolling her eyes. Emily doesn't exactly have a bright and bubbly personality herself, but at least she doesn't consider herself as smug as this man. She's not sure she would exactly call this a lucky day; at least it was certainly becoming an interesting one.]

She moves to crouch down and glance through the skylight. She shifts her body to see at a better angle, for any signs of movement within. Nothing so far.

She straightens, gazing out over the roof.] Just be quiet about it. [They're alone so far, and she doubts anyone else will be bounding up the rooftops to stumble across them, but she'll keep watch regardless.]

[ Truthfully, he wants her looking elsewhere so she doesn’t see him using magic. He’s glad that picking locks is relatively simple spellwork, and isn’t all that flashy besides. He angles himself just slightly, putting his body between her and the lock, and etches out a few simple runes with a finger. Deep, grey-purple light flows from his fingertip and in a matter of seconds, there’s a soft click as the lock springs open, the marks vanishing in the same instant.

He draws a length of rope from his belt and offers it to Emily. ]

Ladies first.

[Emily does not like to assume, but in this case she figures that Alec is simply picking the lock. She wouldn't be wrong, of course. But her gaze is elsewhere, her potential of witnessing the magical runes slipping away without her even realizing it.

When she turns to look at him again, he's already trying to hand her the rope and the offer to enter the observatory first. She looks at the rope, then back up to Alec.]

No, thank you. After you.

[It's not that she doesn't completely trust you, it's that she doesn't completely trust you.]

[ He lets out a little gasp, splaying his hand over his chest. ] You wound me, your ladyship.

[ He is such a brat. But he’s aware that his sarcasm will do little to sway her, and he moves to tie off one end of the rope to a nearby chimney pipe, and carefully eases himself down, repelling into the room below. Emily hasn’t brought up how he managed to jump off the roof without shattering his ankles, and he’d rather not remind her of that by doing it again, so the mundane way it is.

If his information is correct, and it usually is, the owner of the manor should be away on holiday with his lady of the moment, which means there will only be minimal housing staff to dodge.

He leaves the rope dangling for his companion- “companion”, rather- and starts rifling through the drawers of a desk on the far side of the room. ]

[w o w what a brat indeed. She just narrows her eyes at him, letting the words slide off of her as per usual.

She hasn't forgotten about his unrealistic jump before, mind you. It's constantly on her mind, and she has to fight the temptation to ask )for now). Right now, they need to focus, and grilling him for information again would be detrimental to both the mission at hand, and the idea of less talking during a stealthy operation.

Once Alec is in, Emily slides down the rope with ease. Her boots land softly on the ground, with a practiced, muffled thud. Glancing around, it was obvious this was a man of wealth; one could tell by the tall paintings that hung on walls that were not being utilized by bookcases. It was no Dunwall Tower, of course, but it was certainly opulent enough for even Emily to quietly raise a brow.]

If you told me exactly what you're looking for, I could actually help you.

[A letter? A photograph? Both sides of blackmail could entail any number of things.]

[ He’s leafing through a pile of papers when she brings that up, and he pauses, tongue poking at the inside of his lower lip as he thinks it over. He’s deeply unsure about giving her the name of his client, but without it, there’s little she can do other than take up space. ]

Letters, mostly. Especially doctor’s notes. Anything that references Edward and-slash-or Leona.

[ Whitney Monroe, the sleazebag who owns the manor, had been sweet on Leona Baxter for some time, and when her husband, Edward, took ill, Whitney pounced. The Baxters had very little by way of money, and Monroe offered to pay for his hospital expenses in exchange for… well, Leona. Out of love for her husband, she agreed, but by the time Edward passed, the guilt was eating her alive.

Which was why she went to Alec. Alec was able to dig up just enough to believe that Monroe was keeping Leona’s husband ill in order to prolong their arrangement, but went one step too far and ended up doing him in.

Murder is a far more serious charge than blackmail, to be sure, but with no proof, Leona could not go to the authorities, and did not exactly want her infidelity to become public knowledge. And even then, with all of Monroe’s money and charm, there was reason to doubt he’d stay in prison for long- provided he was even found guilty in the first place.

Alec’s job is to find irrefutable proof that Whitney Monroe killed Edward Baxter, but more than that, his job is to leave the man nothing to fall back on. No contacts, no money. Complete alienation from his social circles and his funds.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that Emily is along. If she’s too busy putting Monroe on trial, she won’t be around to interfere as Alec turns the world against him. ]

[Letters, then. Easy enough.

She moves quietly, crossing the room to the other side, where a stack of papers lie askew on an end table next to an armchair nearby. A neighboring lamp illuminates the crispness of the white parchment against the golden hues of the observatory.

Emily picks up the stack, rifling through for something that might look like a letter, or the names of Edward and Leona. The signature of a doctor. Anything suspicious. Her eyes scan through the scrawled sentences, the notes and scribbles. So far, none of it stands out as what they're looking for. She sees the name of what she assumes are old contacts, and some miscellaneous information concerning new developments in medical practices. This is the house of the aforementioned doctor, then, she can only guess.

She speaks, her tone still low, but carrying far enough to be heard by Alec.]

Why did you take this... "job" on?

[ He leafs through some more papers before moving to the next drawer in the desk; it appears to be locked, which is promising, so he crouches and begins etching out a few runes as he talks, voice low. ]

I’m not exactly gonna share my whole resume with you, but this is kind of what I do. Jobs like this, I mean.

[ Click. And he slides the drawer open to begin going over its contents. ] Why do you run around on rooftops?

That isn't what I meant. [She frowns, putting the papers down on the table where she found them. Nothing of use to them there.

She walks along the walls lined with bookshelves, trying to eye if there's anything well hidden in-between the tomes. She had known of a few people in her time to harbor hidden rooms with a well-placed fake switch in the shape of a book -- that would be a bit... well, excessive she thought, but Emily wouldn't put it past these ostentatious types. And besides, it wasn't as if the Tower where she lived wasn't without its own hidden alcoves.]

I mean this one in particular. Or does it not matter the details of a job, just as long as you're paid? Completely mercenary?

[She crosses her arms, ignoring his question to her.]

[ Without looking up, ] What’s it matter to you? Also, if you’re gonna dodge my questions, I’m gonna dodge yours.

[ He rifles around a bit more, lifting a pile of papers from the drawer. Something small tumbles out of the stack, landing back in the drawer with a metallic clatter. He sets the papers aside in favor of picking it up- a small brass key. ]

Well now. I wonder what’s so important that our friend needs to keep the key locked up.

I'm trying to get an idea of what kind of person you are.

[There's something exasperated about her tone, as if she should be used to him sidestepping her questions by now. To be fair, she hasn't exactly been upfront about her habit of running across the city rooftops, but to Emily, that was neither here nor there. It had little bearing on the actual task at hand.

The subject is derailed when she catches a glimpse of the brass key in Alec's hand. Emily moves forward to get a better look, then reaches out to grasp at it.]

That's promising. Let me take a look at it.

My question still stands. I’m not trying to kill you or screw you over, that’s usually enough for most people.

[ He really doesn’t like people trying to get personal. Just who he is and what he’s about isn’t really relevant to his job- people know he gets things done, and he’s able to rest on his reputation just fine.

Still, in the spirit of cooperating to get this job over and done with, he offers her the key when she asks. ]

For most, maybe. [But not for Emily Kaldwin, comes the implication.

Her fingers curl around the brass key as he hands it to her, and she feels its texture and weight. It's simple and unadorned, yet heavy, like it belongs to a large door or contraption of some sort.

Then she looks at him for a moment, sharp eyes considering. It's with a vaguest of hesitations that she concedes to his previous question. For the sake of the argument itself, perhaps.]

I train at night, dashing across rooftops, so no one can see me. It isn't exactly a pasttime that most expect from an Empress. [What manner of heart attacks would happen if the Court itself found out? Void only knows.] I want to be able to defend myself and help others if I can, outside of being completely bound to politics and certain social expectations. I don't ever want to feel useless, and being as well-rounded as possible helps me avoid that.

[ Well… damn. He hadn’t been expecting her to actually up and answer him, and so honestly too. That’s deeper than he wants to go with anyone, let alone someone he’s known for barely an hour or so.

Needless to say, his own response comes off as shallow, which is just how he likes it. ]

Two things.

One, I still don’t believe you’re the empress of anything.

Two, the pay is nice, but in the end it comes down to who I get to screw over.

[Emily had answered honestly. Even if he cannot manage to do the same (his own shallow retort is barely surprising to her), at least Alec cannot throw it back in her face. She was truthful, and perhaps it was foolish of her to be so open with a man who was hesitant to do the same.

Regardless, anything she can sketch of his character, she'll take for now. Even if the details are often small and lacking thus far.]

I've told you the truth. If you don't believe me, that's your own problem. [She's not going to stand here and convince him otherwise.] And why is this doctor someone worth "screwing over"? What exactly did he do?

He’s got more money than sense. [ Or morals. ] I don’t need much more than that.

[ He shrugs. That’s not the half of it by far, but in the end, he really could not care less about her opinion of him. ]

So, you got an idea about that key or what?

[She scoffs.]

You've just described maybe half of the wealthy population; that doesn't mean all of them deserve to have their homes broken into.

[She tosses the key at him. It arcs in the air slightly.]

It belongs to something big. Not another little drawer or even a strongbox. More like an entrance to sizable compartment, or a cleverly hidden door to another room. I'd keep an eye out for furniture that looks out of place, or maybe an odd break in the dust of the bookshelves here. Whatever he's hiding, it must be quite the secret.

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