pullmeoutalive | Ramey

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.

[ He bites back the urge to retort I bet they do, but it’s a close thing. Shit like this is why Alec works alone, why he only keeps company with people just as angry and amoral and broken as he is. He does not need this holier-than-thou crap ever, and he’s going to come very close to stepping over a line if Emily persists.

Thankfully she doesn’t, at least for the moment, and he snatches the key. ]

Are you saying our doctor friend has a secret lair somewhere?

[ He waggles his fingers at her. ] Spooky.

[Emily had been raised to be moral and upstanding to the best of her ability. No, she had chosen to be; a stern guiding hand for her people, to help when she could, to keep a perfectly tenuous balance between mercy and justice. On the outside, she performs this well, carrying herself with the dignity expected of royalty.

Only to her closest does she allow her frustration to peak through the cracks, to allow herself to feel the weight of her responsibilities. There are times when she feels nothing short of stifled, and then it's like she's eleven all over again; wanting to learn about pirates and sword fighting and fantastic adventures, not boring tenements such as rules and philosophies and histories and-

Naturally, Alec will not be privy to any of that. She will be the stern Empress if she has to, reflecting his sarcasm away with a royal deftness, even as her own writhes just under the surface.]

"Lair" might be an overstatement. It could be nothing bigger than a broom closet.

You managed to raise my hopes and expertly dash them in one fell swoop. Congratulations.

[ But they have a clue, or at least something solid to look for rather than shuffling aimlessly through papers. (A lot of Alec’s jobs involve shuffling through papers. It’s kind of nice to have something a little different now and then.)

He pockets the key and moves to the wall nearest the desk, running his hands along the wall to look for seams. Now and then he’ll pause and quietly rap a knuckle over one section of wall, then the next, to look for hollow places. ]

You were giving that bookshelf a look earlier. Maybe check that out.

It's what I do. [She can't help but retort dryly, even as she makes her way back to the large bookshelves.

There are far too many books to check each individual one without spending far too long, so Emily opts for what she hopes is the shorter solution first. She examines the sides of the shelves, looking for conspicuous places where it might look like things have shifted in the past. She doesn't see anything at first, but there's something strange about the way the light glints off of a certain part of the flooring-

Emily bends down to get a closer look. It looks like scratch marks, as if something had been swung out in an arc, like a large door. She looks up at the bookcase in question, furrowing her brow.]

Unless someone's been moving furniture around, these scratches in the floor don't make much sense.

Really?

[ Alec ceases his inspection of the wall, and comes over to inspect the scratches on the floor. He lets out a little “tsk tsk” noise. ] Looks like somebody doesn’t pay his housekeepers well enough.

[ His eyes drift up to the bookcase in question, roving over the books for an inconsistency. Anything that stands out. There is a book in particular that catches his eye- not only is it on the end of the bookcase that appears to swing outward, but it’s relatively clean and free of dust. Larger than the others as well. It would probably be difficult to spot if he hadn't been actively looking for it.

He reaches up and gives it a tap with one knuckle, and is rewarded with a hollow sound, instead of the dull clunk of leather and pages. He futzes around with the book for a second, pushing and pulling, and the spine slides away, lifting on a small track to reveal a keyhole. ]

Looks like we have a winner.

[Emily frowns, despite the current of curiosity running through her. Whatever this was, the doctor was going to a lot of trouble to hide it. That never boded well. She leans in, invading his personal space for the sake of her getting to see what he's referencing. A keyhole. Not surprising, given the key they found minutes before.

Emily squints to see if she can peer through it, but the shadows of the books next to her obscure her vision. She glances at Alec.]

Then let's see what he's hiding.

[ Alec inserts the key into the hole and turns. He’s rewarded with a satisfying click, and the bookcase swings away. It does scrape the floor a bit, and in the relative silence of the study, the noise sounds louder than it probably is. Alec makes a face, waiting a moment to make sure no one is coming to investigate the sound before peering in.

What’s in the hidden little room is… well, it’s frankly more than Alec bargained for.

It’s a small space, barely bigger than a closet, but the walls are plastered with photographs of a smiling brunette, clearly taken without her knowledge. Mostly the pictures feature just her, but on the rare occasion they do not, the other party has either been torn out or scribbled over angrily in ink. Letters sit in piles on an old crate in the center of the room, though some are pinned to the walls as well- everything from flowery love letters from the doctor, as evidenced by the handwriting, to pleas for help in a flowing, feminine script. Please, they say. Please save my husband. ]

Well, this is… creepy.

Edited 2016-10-31 19:44 (UTC)

[A strange mixture of disgust and concern bubbles up in Emily's stomach as she eyes the photographs pinned to the walls, interspersed with letters adorned with calligraphic handwriting. Photographs of a woman, though some were not -- the unknown subject's face had been scrawled away, face censored with harsh lines of ink.

Encouraged by the uncomfortable sight, Emily takes a step into the hidden room, reaching out to one of the letters and removing it from the wall with a flick of a wrist. It creates a sharp tear in the paper where it had been pinned, but she doesn't care; her eyes scan over the words, and she frowns.]

What is this?

[She lowers the letter a few moments later, gaze flicking over to Alec.] She was sleeping with this doctor so that he would save her husband?

[Of course, that's only half of the story, isn't it? It still feels incomplete in her head.]

[ He steps into the little room after Emily. Leona never mentioned this level of obsession when he took the job, but it’s extremely possibly she didn’t know either. The thought makes something hot and angry settle in his gut. So help him, he’ll ruin this guy if it’s the last thing he does. ]

Funny, the things people do for love.

[ He says it blandly, his anger remaining deeply buried. He moves to the notes, and begins shuffling through the papers with purpose. The love notes and the pleas for help aren’t what interest him. It’s the professional papers, and if they’re not in here, Alec will eat his shoe.

At last he starts to uncover them, scrawled doctor’s notes outlining Edward Baxter’s condition. The intention is there, at first, to administer a proper treatment, but as Monroe and Leona’s affair continued, the treatment took a very different turn. Alec leafs through lists of symptoms and how to induce them, how to prolong them, how to start a steady but gentle decline of the other man’s health.

And at last, at the bottom of the pile, a newspaper clipping of Edward Baxter’s obituary.

He hands the pile over to Emily. ]

You might find this to be engaging reading.

[Lie, cheat, steal, murder. Funny the things people do for love, indeed.

She sets the letter aside for now, instead given something that must be of more interest by Alec; she had noted the way he was setting aside mere letters for... something else. Some information that she could only assume was his main purpose in being here.

She doesn't ask questions just yet, instead satisfied with leafing through the papers given to her. They're strictly professional, which meant they were strictly medical in this case -- records of Edward's slowly declining health, tracked with the fastidiousness of someone with a clear intent. And, it appeared as she continued to read, that intent was not to make the husband better, but rather lead to his ultimate decline.

There's something about the way it's all so... empirically handed that makes Emily feel sick to her stomach. These papers revealed a cold calculation that was almost casual in how eager the doctor was to take another man's life, simply to further his own agenda. Out of so-called love, or lust, or simply having something that didn't belong to him. It rubs her the wrong way, reminding her of when she was younger, when people were so quick to maim and murder all around her, just so they could use her and manipulate her.

She cannot hope to know of all the misdeeds that go on in this city; she isn't so naive to think that she can put a stop to it all. But this doesn't make her feel better about her ignorance, and in fact, it makes her feel like she still isn't doing enough. There's hardly anything in this world that makes her feel more frustrated.

Finally, Emily looks at Alec, anger in sharp eyes.]

This man is a murderer. I won't let him get away with this.

[ He watches Emily’s face as she reads through the notes, finding a cold satisfaction in the anger that settles in her expression. That she’s angry is good. It means she’s going to focus her attention on bringing this man to justice, which means Alec will be free to ensure that Doctor Whitney Monroe won’t have a leg to stand on by the time of his sentencing. ]

I should hope not, with that pretty speech you gave me earlier about justice.

I don't just give pretty speeches. [She's quick to make that addendum; she's not hesitant to mete out justice when it's clear that a crime as heinous as this has been committed. The evidence is relatively clear-cut, and it's difficult to see shades of grey this time.

Good. For once, it'll be nice to not be so muddled up by politics and blurred moralities. It makes for a swifter resolution -- or at least, she can certainly hope it will.]

Criticize all you like, but you're playing just as big of a role in this fetching little ideal called justice, too.

[ He just shrugs, the motion noncommittal as he idly looks around the little room. God, this is creepy. ]

I just do what I’m paid to do. Sometimes it works out in the name of justice, sometimes it doesn’t.

Can we get out of here? This place is freaking me out.

[Emily suddenly finds herself eager to leave, as well. Not because of an unease, but because suddenly this is something she wants to take care of ASAP. She nods.]

Fine. Let's grab what we need and head out, before anyone comes back.

[ He holds up a finger. ] One thing before we go.

[ And he inclines his head towards the many pictures of the woman all over the walls. ] My client. She won’t suffer for this, will she?

I’ll never work again if someone who hired me gets swept up in all these big legal proceedings.

[She lifts her chin, revealing the slightest sign of offense at the question. She supposes, perhaps, that it's a fair enough one to ask. He still has no reason to trust her completely. Emily has yet to truly give him one.]

Your client is innocent, as far as I'm concerned. Surely you don't think that I care about something as trifling as an affair?

[ He barely restrains his urge to roll his eyes. It would figure that someone of Emily's standing wouldn't understand what's important to a person of Leona's. ]

You don't, but she does. I'm not out to ruin her life, here.

[She would argue against that pretty adamantly if that thought had been said aloud.]

Neither am I. [She crosses her arms, eyes sweeping across all the photographs once more.] Don't worry about her. I won't do anything that'll make you regret working with me tonight.

[ He raises his hands. ] Just making sure we’re on the same page.

Since it seems we are, let’s get out of here for real this time. [ He assumes Emily still has all the relevant documents in hand, but he casts around one more time to make sure that he hasn’t overlooked anything. There’s nothing in the little room that seems relevant, so they exit and he carefully shuts the bookcase, locking it and concealing the keyhole once again.

The key goes back in the desk drawer (and while he’s there, he quietly pockets a few notes and a small address book for himself- knowing who this man’s friends are helps him do his job, after all). He finds a moment where Emily’s attention is diverted to wave the lock back into place with a small motion of his hand- he always locks everything behind him, to better cover his tracks.

He meets her back at the rope, still dangling from the skylight into the middle of the room. ]

So, if I say “ladies first” this time, are you gonna shoot me down?

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my inbox ate ur notif om nom

i see how it is

not my fault they're v. tasty

nom nom nom