precisionfocus | (no subject)

For the last month, Sebastian Moran had ignored the almost daily text messages that came from a blocked number. he was not desperate enough to work as a bodyguard. He would, he told himself, be back in the field soon.

And yet...

"Sebastian, I can't help you until you are ready to help yourself. Now, let's talk about Jake. You--"

"Fuck this."

"Sebastian?"

"You heard me. Fuck this."

"Sebastian, please sit back--"

"I'm done."

[blocked number] 9:20 AM
The job's still open.

[me] 9:25 AM
Won't agree to anything until we meet.

[blocked number] 9:25 AM
Time and place. My treat.

[me] 9:26 AM
Can pay for myself. Kelly's at 7.

...And yet here he was, sipping a soda at Kelly's, wondering what the hell he was getting himself into with even just this meeting.

"Hey, Seb!"

"Hey Gina." He always sat at this table, and she always had the section.

"Meeting a date tonight?"

Sebastian looked at her. He knew-- paying attention to the people around him paid off more often than not-- about her recent break up with her boyfriend. She'd be looking for a good rebound fling before they got back together. He smiled. "No date, but I'd love to have one tomorrow. I've just got one problem."

"And what kind of problem would you have with getting a date?"

"I don't have your number."

She blushed, giggled, and bent over to write it on one of the paper napkins. He pocketed it and watched as she walked away. At least, no matter what else happened, tonight had not been wasted.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Colonel."

The correction was not angry, simply matter-of-fact. He was barely used to the rank himself, but he'd bought it with blood. Blood and his entire career. He'd been wounded, badly wounded, but had tried to fight, even as the men with him were killed. His second had died trying to help him. So they'd given him a medal and a promotion. Even if he went back to active service now, that promotion meant he would work behind the scenes, likely never see the front lines again. He had paid dearly for his rank, and he would wear it as a badge of honour.

He wouldn't bother remarking that he'd held a gun plenty since then. He'd gone hunting with a rifle, practiced shooting with his service pistol. But he hadn't had his gun-- his sleek, trusty sniper rifle-- in his hand for six months. Not since the ambush had descended and he'd grabbed it from the hands of his dying second and started firing as best he could. Panic, really. He'd have been better to shoot with his pistol. But all he could think about was Jake being shot when he went for the rifle and that he ought to use it because of that.

Ten thousand pounds. And half of it ready to be wired immediately, judging by the information on that phone. Sebastian's heart was pounding, and the words caught in his throat. The money... The money was appealing. Of course it was. But he was being offered a use. To do something.

There was only one question, and he managed to ask it evenly. He knew this 'assignment' could not possibly be fully legal. Everything about this arrangement said that. He was willing to accept that. He just needed to be able to weigh the risk against the gain. He just needed to know...

"How many laws will I be breaking?"

James Moriarty doesn't show any acknowledgement to the correction, his eyes harden and again his neck curls forward. His stare never wavered from Sebastian Moran; Colonel. Moriarty had him, he knew, started wrapping him around his finger already.

He hisses, "Does that matter?"

That was a boring question. He knew Sebastian was still as 'honorable' as he could be. Could. And he could be so much more than that safe and average routine. He was already on his way. Had been. James was just the pull into the shadows Moran needed.

Moriarty reveled in the fact that he was this man's freedom and his shackle at the same time. That he was giving him something he'd only had a taste of before, and letting him have it - oh - he was delighted to be that catalyst.

Now just how hard he'd have to pull.... well. That was up to Colonel Sebastian Moran.

"Yes."

No specific number was the deal-breaker, but he would not pledge himself to something without knowing what it would cost him, what backlash to prepare to withstand. ...Perhaps, if he let himself be honest, it was because he wanted to know in advance how far across the line he'd always walked he would now step.

It was a large gap, soldier to mercenary. A leap. He'd only agreed to a step-- soldier to bodyguard. This didn't sound like a bodyguard's offer. There was something more to this, the darkness circling around the edges, like a predator trapping its prey.

Which role did he play in this?

For once in his life, he wasn't sure, and that sent a chill and heat through his veins he could not deny. It was like the taste of whiskey-- a sharp, burning feeling that he knew would leave a mark by the time he was done.

"You're looking for a commitment. I won't commit without a few more details, sir."

The bite in that 'sir' makes him want to laugh but the most he does is smile fleetingly. He likes the latent fierceness this one has. The caution, it's debatable. Because he likes his henchmen stupid, but the ones close to him less so. He wants to be surrounded by intelligence - but none as smart as he. James needs to be the one thinking three steps ahead of everyone and that included body-guards.

But a bit of brains might be better than less. So he'll concede now. Give him the answer he wants. He sighed melodramatically - making a fuss out of nothing, of course - and shrugged, his whole body moving with the gesture.

"About three, with this first job."

Give or take.

The phone remains.

'About three.' Factor in that the man would have guessed he wouldn't want to break many and might easily be lying. So, in the neighbourhood of five, Sebastian guessed. He wanted to inquire as to the severity of the laws, but... Too many questions might make that nice four-figure offer go away.

So the former colonel nodded.

"I'm in."

A button-click later, Sebastian Moran was 10,000 pounds richer. James failed to mention the money would mysteriously disappear should he fail to impress - but that could be held against him at a later date. Mustn't show all your cards in one hand after all.

James slides his phone back into his breast pocket and stands.

"When you return to your flat, check your phone. Instructions and details will be sent.

Also, bring your... accouterments. Better safe than sorry, darling."

He shrugs and glances about at the very empty restaurant - had it been this quiet since they had started talking? Who knew.

"Well, I'd better be off. Nice to finally meet you, Colonel." He smiles, insincere and too sharp to be anything but a mock of the very human expression before turning around and snapping his fingers and there's an honest to goodness squeal of tires as a car pulls around to the front of the restaurant and that shit only happened in movies, not real life so how the fuck did he do that?

Nobody would find the answer out today and James holds his hand out at the pretty girl Sebastian was talking with before - Gina - and she hands him a plastic bag with a box in it. Take-out.

"Have a nice night, love." He sounds different already; very nice and bizarrely charming. Gina smiles and wishes him a good night before the bell on the door chimes and once again Sebastian is sitting at a table by himself.