Who: Max, Ryan and Andrew What: An undercover meeting with the kid Where: A coffee shop When: Recently Warnings/Rating: None
Ryan leaned on the concrete wall outside of a boutique that sold jewelry and scarves marked up to look like antiques. He had never been shopping in a place like this, but he appreciated the long glances women gave him before heading inside. That was all he needed. No contact. No talking to strangers over mild attraction. Just a woman or two sizing him up and then going about their day. Everyone needed a little attention from strangers sometimes. He pretended to scroll through emails on his phone while partaking in a little small talk with Rogue in his head. She didn’t know everything about him, but she knew when he lied and that was more than most people. Rogue told him stories about the X-Men, about her powers and the different villains she had to go up against. He told her how to make a coin vanish into thin air or how to steal papers off desks in a room full of people.
Eventually, Ryan checked his watch and looked up to see Max coming towards him. He smirked and raised his sunglasses just enough so she could see his eyes. “Good to see you.” Ryan let his sunglasses fall back onto the bridge of his nose and he tucked his phone away into his blazer pocket. He hadn’t changed much since they last saw each other. Dressed like a Hollywood agent in a modern blazer, jeans and an expensive looking t-shirt (complete with aviator sunglasses), Ryan was always less about blending in than an agent really should be.
Sometimes Max was about blending, and sometimes she wasn't. Her agent in black ops had always told her she had the key ingredient for undercover work - an unmemorable face. At twenty, she'd hated him. At thirty-plus, she was willing to use it. Today wasn't about blending, because she knew Ryan well enough to know the man was too eccentric to ever go for low key. Anyway, his cover was high profile. A man like that wouldn't be dating a wallflower. So, the woman that approached Ryan had cheekbones that could cut glass (thanks to skilled make-up work), and striking blue eyes. She had a choker that was valued at the same amount as her entire retirement fund. Her dress was black, tight, and designer, and her perfectly natural red hair was twisted in an elegant, but effortless twist.
Max walked up to Ryan on deceptively simple sandals, and she greeted him with a kiss that was warm enough to deceive anyone looking, no matter how good they were. Her cover - Alice Miles - was a bored, rich socialite from the east coast, and all her papers were in order, all the way back to her birth certificate. "Ryan," she said, sounding perfectly Boston, and she slid her arm through his a moment later and nodded to the window. "I hope you're shopping for jewelry, and not scarves." She smiled, and there wasn't a dimple in sight. She did love her makeup tech.
Ryan hummed, liking the accent as most first generation Irish-American boys would, and touched her jawline with his finger as she could visibly see him snap into character. There wasn’t a whole lot of difference between CIA Ryan and Hustler Ryan since he was never trained and dropped into unfamiliar territory, but it almost look like the parts of his expression that knew things broke away. What was left was more style than brains (though a couple agents might argue he was always like that). “I wouldn’t buy you something here. People would think I pawned off my grandmother’s brooch collection to you.” He smiled, not at her, but at a passing woman who sniffed at his offhand remark.
“Coffee?” Back to Max, arm draping around her waist lazily. Andrew was about a block away, hiding in plain sight. The information Ryan had sent Max detailed just about everything about him except the connection to Passages. That was still an unknown and a small way of protecting the boy for now. Max would find out, she could find out anything she wanted, but Ryan wasn’t going to give it to her himself.
Max's trust of Ryan went as far as her trust of most agents, which wasn't very far. It wasn't his fault. Their lives weren't their own, and neither were their motivations. Those things all belonged to their superiors, and it was just a part of the life. A friend could be assigned to end an asset from one day to the next, and it was the part of the job that (eventually) sent people running for the hills. It was better here, in the CIA, than in the military, but informants were always informants. She didn't expect him to give her Andrew Mumford, but she didn't need him too, either. And once this job was done, she could leave recruiting behind. It wasn't exactly her area of expertise; she was better with a firearm than with convincing speeches.
"Don't insult your grandmother's brooch collection." Max's reply was as condescending as his had been, and it came with a smile that said she didn't care if the passerby thought the entire conversation was rude. "Is there good coffee? Or does that taste like it belonged to your grandmother too, darling?" she asked, the snobbish socialite on the arm of the hustler. She didn't have an earpiece in, and she was fairly certain they weren't being watched, but dropping out of character wasn't an option. She was way too good for that, even if she preferred action to subterfuge. "A place with soy," she reminded him, as if he should know that already.
“My grandmother drinks tea. The pope looks down on coffee drinkers, you know.” Behind his glasses, he scanned the upcoming cafe for Andrew. Part of him felt bad for springing everything on the boy right now, but Bee knew he was in town so there was a possibility she spread the word to him. Either way, he hadn't spoken to him yet and he silently hoped popping up out of nowhere wouldn't bring the kid too much stress. Ryan might have been a liar, but he took care of his own. Even when they'd never really know the whole story. Maybe he'll be glad to see ya, suga Rogue suggested quietly. It made him have to force down a smile. He liked to believe no one was happy to see him, even if that was a little self defeating.
Spotting their target, Ryan faked surprise. "Goddamn, is that-" He let go of her waist, hand trailing until it caught her hand so he could drag her along. "Hey, Andrew!" Ryan's voice was akin to a big brother. And, despite all the spy shit, he was honestly happy to see the little Mumford.
For all intents and purposes, Andrew Mumford was an absolute wreck. Having spent such little time on the Las Vegas side of the door, he felt strange to stretch his own limbs and walk down his own streets on the normal side. But, was this side actually normal anymore? In New York, behind that Marvel Door, Peggy was some bad-ass soldier from World War Two who whipped men more bullheaded than he into shape. In Las Vegas? Andrew was a murderer. He murdered his grandfather, and the guilt ate away at him every single waking moment. It had to happen. Wayne Mumford had to die, or he would die. Right? Wasn’t that the right thing to do? To eliminate the problem and keep he and his best friend and countless others safe?
Yeah, it was easier said than done.
So, he was in a bit of a fog as he ducked into the first cafe that he saw. Peggy ate really healthy, and Andrew didn’t eat much when he did allow her out of her door. The usual lively tone to his had drained to a worrisome grayish pallor, and the thinness hollowed out his cheeks. He hardly looked like the vivacious, carefree young man of months, of years prior, and hunched over with a pair of dark Ray Bans and unnoticeable clothes, many wouldn’t realize the young Mumford heir walked in. The shout of his name startled him enough to make him pause and turn, and while he recognized the voice immediately, he was still surprised to see Ryan Mallory before him. “Ryan!” he said with as much cheery surprise as he could muster. “You’re in Vegas? What the hell? How’ve you been, man?” Andrew then noticed the pretty woman Ryan dragged with him and offered her a charming, easy smile.
Ryan didn’t have time to really register how broken down Andrew was, but made a mental note that the boy could still turn on the charm in eight seconds flat. That was a good sign despite him looking a little like death. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been here a while, but business has been taking up all my time. You know how that goes.” Ryan smirked, letting go of Max so he could give Andrew a hug whether he liked it or not. The Mallory clan were always a friendly lot. They liked hugs. “This lovely lady is Alice. She’s taking time off from her busy life bathing in money just to be with me. Isn’t that sweet?” Ryan smirked, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his blazer.
Max had seen photos of Andrew Mumford, but the young man's dossier was abysmally lacking. Most of it just cross-referenced the Mumford family, which didn't help her very much with this particular job. She spent most of her time dealing with terrorist threats, mainly procuring intel and going places no sane person would go, but recruiting wasn't so different. It was still a hunt for intel, only for a different purpose. She wouldn't be able to convince Andrew Mumford of anything if she didn't know what made him tick. And Andrew was an important recruit - heir to an impressive crime syndicate and, if reports were correct, ripe for the picking. The fact that this kid looked terrible? It only lent credence to the reports. "Andrew?" Max asked, every bit the socialite Bostonian, and a glance at Ryan saying she wasn't sure she'd caught the name properly, distracted socialite that she was. "It's lovely to meet you, especially if you led us to a good soy latte. Ryan doesn't appreciate a good coffee," she added, a casual press against Ryan's side indicating the appropriate amount of intimacy.
“I’m hurt, man.” Though mostly a stranger to physical intimacy from the men in his life, Andrew returned the hug with ease, clapping Ryan on the back before pulling away to offer ‘Alice’ another charming smile, this time a little wider and more inviting. “The pleasure’s all mine, Alice. Though why you’re with this old dog instead of someone better is far beyond me. Bad taste in coffee is the least of his flaws.” He cocked an eyebrow behind his dark shades, warm smile sliding into a smirk, and then he clapped Ryan on the shoulder again. “Welcome to Vegas, then. I’ve been here for years, and I can definitely find you a good soy latte, beautiful.” He led them towards the door. The line for take-out was long, as well as the seating area, but the hostess recognized Andrew despite his appearance, and offered a quiet table in the corner. He flashed the girl a grateful, charming smile, and gestured to Ryan and Alice to take the lead. “After you,” he assured the couple as he slipped off his sunglasses finally to reveal bloodshot, exhausted eyes.
“I happen to be the same old dog that taught you all of your tricks.” Ryan raised his eyebrows right back at Andrew, all playful sarcasm. He liked to keep the line between joking and truth real fuzzy. It made his job a lot easier and allowed him to say whatever he wanted. Most of the time, anyway. “See that smile, he learned that from me.” He let Max take the lead, dragging ass just enough to see Andrew’s face and exchange a small look of concern. Men in the mobster business knew how to talk without saying anything. His dad used to look down at Ryan and he’d be able to tell who fucked up and how much trouble they were going to be in just by the degree of intensity in his dad’s eyes.
With Max’s back turned for just a second, Ryan shot Andrew a look that wasn’t just concerned. He wanted to know how much help Andrew needed to get out of this hole his grandfather left in their lives. But, there wasn’t enough time for an answer or even a look of recognition. The hostess was already politely seating them and asking for drinks. Ryan’s expression lost all the concern in a mix of carefree arrogance.
Max was doing her own share of work, while all those glances she wasn't meant to see were happening. She was cataloguing, making notes, taking in how well this kid could hide and cover, how well he could fake a smile. She had no idea what Andrew Mumford would eventually be doing, assuming she decided he was recruitable, but she liked to at least be able to recommend someone in good faith. But that was tempered with a desire to get this assignment over with, so that she could get back to terrorists, who were much more cut and dry. She knew they'd sent her to recruit Corvus intentionally, because of the connect. Recent events made her think they had used the same factor to decide that she would be the right person to drag Silver back into the fold. But Andrew? There was no personal connection there, and she was pretty sure she was just convenient when it came to bringing this kid into the family. No matter; she'd do the job to the best of her ability, and then she'd get out.
She rolled her eyes at Ryan in an entertained way, when he said Andrew had learned the smile from him, and then she turned her teasing gaze on the kid. "Don't let him get away with that, Andrew. You have a much more handsome smile than he does," she said, a heavy amount of flirting in her tone. She could play the cougar when the situation called for it. Ryan got another teasing grin. "He called me beautiful. He's winning," she informed him, a perfectly manicured fingernail dragging lightly across his jaw.
With Alice’s back turned, Andrew caught the look Ryan shot and offered him a shaky smile. He was okay, the expression tried (unsuccessfully) to say. Before the young Mumford had a chance to reaffirm the issue though, Ryan’s companion turned around, leaving Andrew to snap back into the swagger and sluggish, charming smile. “Thank you, gorgeous. Ryan likes to take credit for too much in my life, including my ‘tricks.’ Alice, I assure you, all of that is purely genetic.” Which, mostly, was true. As much of a bastard as Wayne Mumford was, he was a charming bastard. And from what Andrew knew of his father, Joshua was a charming bastard, too.
The hostess led the threesome to a table in a secluded corner of the back of the cafe, and Andrew slipped the girl a smile and a generous tip before waving at the other two to choose seats. Might as well enjoy the benefits of wealth while he still could. Seconds later, someone stopped by with a few menus for the three to peruse though Andrew already had his order in mind. “Order whatever you’d like,” Andrew said, smiling to Ryan and winking towards Alice. “For teaching me all my tricks, eh? And for you, Alice, for suffering with such a dog.”
Ryan ordered himself a simple black coffee as he always did in company (alone it was a spiced pumpkin latte) and leaned towards Max, his shoulder and arm lightly touching hers in the way couples tended to connect themselves. He thought it was partially for show, but he also theorized that couples stuck themselves together through some kind of comfort that even high class money and low morals couldn’t tear apart. Real companionship, well, he didn’t know a whole lot about that. He even ordered for ‘Alice’, asking for a soy latte like he had done it a thousand times before.
“I wish you’d just be happy for me, Andrew.” Ryan said in his mock-offended voice, which barely had enough energy to muster anything that sounded like real hurt. “It’s difficult enough to find someone who will put up with my antics. Or magic tricks.” He smirked.
Max caught the kid's fumbled smile, but she didn't say anything about it. She was more interested in his relationship with Mallory right then. If they went through with this and tried to bring the Mumford kid on as an asset, then he'd learn about Mallory, and that might be a deal breaker. That was the thing with the CIA, you never knew who knew what, or who was actually communicating with who. She and Mallory had different handlers, different assignments, and there was no way of knowing who knew what. And then Mallory was undercover, deep cover. Max only got an alias for assignments these days. It was a complicated situation.
Despite all that thinking, none of it was visible on Max's face. Her attention had turned over to Ryan the moment Ryan pressed his arm to hers. Her expression turned momentarily adoring, as if she didn't even realize it was happening, and she grinned wider when Ryan pulled out that mock-offended voice. "He's a dog, but I wouldn't trade him," she said, looking back at Andrew. "There's no accounting for taste, is there?" He was so young, this kid, and she wondered if he'd really better off as an asset, or if they'd just use him to spy on his own people. He might be going from the pot to the frying pan. She hated recruitment. Give her a good old terrorist any day.
Andrew ordered a very large espresso, in desperate need of the caffeine it would shoot in his system. The fatigue was hitting hard, but he couldn’t bail on the couple in front of him, at least not yet. Maybe halfway through but not yet. She regarded Alice with that roguish smile, then rolled his eyes at Ryan. “I’ll be as unhappy for you as I want, you lucky bastard,” he teased with good nature. “Alice, when you come to your senses, come talk to me.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he stifled a yawn, biting down on his cheek. “How long have you been in Vegas, then, Mallory?”
“A year.” Ryan gave a guilty look. “I know, I know. But, I like to keep a low profile in case some old employers want something from me. I sent you birthday cards, though. That’s better than seeing my ugly mug all the time.” He smirked and seconds later his phone started to ring loudly. He groaned, looking down at the number (which was actually an alarm) and sighed. “I have to take this. It’s the big boss.” He leaned over to kiss Max’s cheek and got up quickly. “No hand holding you two.” He pointed at them as he wandered off to answer his completely fake call.
Max leaned into the kiss, like any good girlfriend would do, and she watched Ryan go with a roll of her eyes. "He's always getting dragged away like that," she said, making her voice proud as she watched Ryan disappear from sight with a fond smile. Andrew got her attention a second later, and she found she'd already figured the kid out, at least for her own purposes. Yeah, she definitely preferred the field. This one would cave with the right pressure, which was exactly what she was going to report back. Whether Ryan was in on the recruiting people's intentions, that she didn't know, and she was pretty sure all that goodwill toward this kid wasn't fake. She was glad she wasn't going to be the one fielding those questions. "So," she told Andrew with a playful smile, "tell me all the good stories."