InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "That's my wand you're holding!"

if exposed, all queens are wild (followthequeen) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-01-27 20:01:00

Who: Vicki and Rupert
What: Vicki brings Rupert a case.
Where: Room 1201
When: A day or so after Bellum Black, way too early in the morning
Warnings: None

What the tenants of the upper floors had in common was their money. Although she could not match room numbers to the anonymous messages on mysterious forum post of a few days ago, she understood enough to know it was a soap opera she, one, wanted nothing to do with and, two, likely lacked the social prerequisites, bank account and room number to involve herself in even if she wanted. She didn't.

It wasn't smart asking him, it would sound desperate. But Vicky was desperate. Her previous plan was to involve her ex, and if she could avoid risking him while speeding up the process for going back to own beat-- and consequently, eventually getting her own identity back-- then so be it. Even if her own identity meant entering the witness protection program, taking some other name and moving somewhere like Montana-- so be it. Her tenure undercover had already run too long. It ran her ragged.

At five twenty-three in the morning she knocked sharply on the detective's door. She chose morning because she had a feeling the tenants on his floor, near his floor, were more about the nightlife than the sunrise. She knocked again in case he was asleep, but not so loud as to draw attention from other room numbers.

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oftrifles
2010-01-28 04:37 am UTC (link)

Insomnia was hardly a stranger in Rupert Holden's world.

It first became his companion upon arriving in New York, remaining constant even as he sat with his head against his window that very morning. Sleep did not come that previous evening, nor did it visit for the two weeks before. No, instead, his evenings lulled the moon to sleep with tea and Beethoven sounding lowly against the walls of his office. Papers were typically illuminated by the beams peeking in through the dusty, fingerprint-frosted glass, cigarette smoke curling up from his mouth as though a snake protruding from somewhere dark and dank.

This time, however, was only different. As he sat, cigarette clutched between his teeth, his office was in that of an orderly fashion. Beethoven still worked that age-old magic of his, smoke still wafted from the contents of his mouth, but empty boxes from the hallway were peeking in through his adjacent door. Everything sat in a place where it typically would, had this been a doctor's personal office, or even a lawyer's. If anyone knew Rupert, though, they would know that this was far too unusual for the likes of him. The truth was, he was currently case free. Without cases, the creature of habit that Rupert typically was seemed to be in hiding somewhere presumably within one of those empty boxes. This needed to be remedied. Soon.

As he heard opportunity knock at his front door, bright blue eyes immediately lifted in the direction of his desktop. The numbers five twenty-three were bouncing about the darkness of his screensaver and he gave a sharp sniff. "Bugger," Rupert croaked, body going through its morning routine of cracks and pops as he stood upon his feet. Taking the cigarette between his index finger and thumb, he scratched at the strands upon his head, lazily strolling into the sitting room.

The detective was already dressed, something he had managed at presumably three that very morning, in a simple blue, button-up (the first undone), sleeves rolled to the curves of his elbows, as well as a pair of jeans that crawled down his long legs to meet the pair of black house slippers he rarely bothered to change out of around the house - clientele or not.

Clearing his throat, he undid the very first two respective locks at his door. He cocked his head, glancing at the woman on the other side, only the third lock dividing them. Rupert placed the filter of the cigarette back to his lips, taking a soft drag as he asked, "Miss Winter, I presume?" Before allowing her an answer, he unstrung the lock and opened his door to allow her inside.

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followthequeen
2010-01-28 04:57 am UTC (link)

"Thank god you smoke," she spoke not sarcastically but flatly. Appreciatively. That was all the permission she asked as she stepped in and pulled out her own pack. Walt got her to quit once, but in her line of work she was lucky her fingertips weren't yellow by now.

She smoked Marlboros. Regular. Nasty, thick and harsh. Vicky wore black jeans, boots and a white t-shirt top that stopped short at her navel. She liked to look down occasionally and see the less appropriately placed angel tattoo keeping watch. Unless Vic had a weapon creatively concealed, she wasn't packing. Vicky met Rupert light on purpose to make a good impression.

One lighter flick later and the red and white colored pack was in her back pocket. She appeared a touch more relaxed. "So how does this work?"

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oftrifles
2010-01-28 05:41 am UTC (link)

Rupert's chin gave a short nod as he closed the door behind her entrance. He noted her eyes avert slightly towards the snippet of skin just against her midriff, revealing the angel. Religious, toned, and most importantly - anxious. He flicked a small sliver of smoke from his mouth with his tongue, making his way further inside of the sitting room. Boxes were piled across the whole of the place as he stood before her, arms folded as he assessed her with a quick, downward trick of his eyes.

"First of all," he began, pressing both his index fingers to the curve of his chin before gripping the cigarette back between his usual fingers, "I'm afraid I'm not quite accustomed to having my clients in my home. Would you care for a refreshment?" Rupert quirked a slender brow, licking his upper lip. She was an intriguing creature. There was something desperate about her very demeanour, as if she was attempting to keep her cool and doing a poor job. Like all women, she held a heavy secret above her head.

Like every other brilliant detective before him, Rupert was set and determined to figure out just what that secret was.

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	followthequeen 2010-01-28 05:48 am UTC (link)
	For some reason she expected him to be about a decade older, but her surprise was not as obvious as her glance over the apartment like a wounded, wary cat. Exhaling smoke, she waved away his offer with the hand holding her cigarette, shaking her head politely if not abruptly. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

oftrifles
2010-01-28 06:07 am UTC (link)

"Right this way, then," Rupert said simply, settling his left hand within its respective trouser pocket. He would say something about excusing the mess or watching out for his things at this point, as he led her through the cramped hallway of his flat, but there was no need, considering the barren state of it all. He lead her through the labyrinth of empty and full and into the cleanly contents of his office. It nearly caused him to whimper every time he so much as stepped inside.

"Make yourself at home," he urged, pointing towards a red leather armchair opposite the larger, black leather one behind the contents of his desk. Touching down within his seat, he ground the butt of his cigarette into the burned wood he'd singed with a cigar so many years before, and flicked it into his wastebin. "Now," he touched his fingertips together, perfectly aligned as his elbows met his desk.

"Start from the beginning; tell me why you're here."

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followthequeen
2010-01-28 06:28 am UTC (link)

Vic slumped unlady like into the red chair, her favorite color, her ankle crossed over her knee.

"First off, I know you work with the cops. I'm not asking you to do anything illegal, I just need your help. I need discretion."

She exhaled another stream of smoke.

"I'm a businesswoman, I don't collect gossip on the privileged. Unfortunately that's what my employers want. They don't seem to appreciate that's not where my talents are. The idiot kid who publicly said she wanted you to keep your detecting off her? She has a lot of my employer's money. I don't care how much, I don't care where, I don't even care if they can get to it. Or if she somehow miraculously decides to move it somewhere else afterward they found out it was there. I give them that information, I get reassigned."

She took a long exhale before releasing it.

"To make it worse, my ex has a hard time letting go. He lives in the penthouses with the rest of the spoiled rich kids. I do not want to use him as an in. I really don't want anything to do with these people or this building. I just want out. The sooner I get the information, the sooner I'm out. So. This something you can help me with without getting my employers pissed or the cops interested?"

She didn't say who she was, who her employers were or who her husband was. She just assumed he knew. It made things easier.

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oftrifles
2010-01-28 06:58 am UTC (link)

Rupert watched her carefully; the way she slumped, the way she crossed her ankle over her knee, and even the way she inhaled her cigarette (Marlboros, by the way) told a thousand different stories to him. But at the moment, he was only interested in one. A businesswoman was what she claimed to be, but the business had yet to roll from her tongue. Her employer had her on edge. Something was being held over her, something threatening.

Ah, the ex-husband. The reason she didn't wish to use him as an in was clear. He was the leverage at stake. She cared for him. Of course she cared, as did he, hence the hard time he was having. Letting go. Rupert refrained from snorting snidely to himself. If not that, then perhaps the man was unaware of her profession. If so, keeping him out of this, would mean her secret was to remain hidden from him. Whichever man it was, though, was left to be seen.

Police officers. They were her employers. That was why she didn't want them involved, mentioning them twice. It would be redundant to run in such a circle, wouldn't it? Typical - another case the police couldn't solve without his aid.

"Indeed," he started, glancing into her face again, "But before I agree," Rupert sat back against leather, adjusting his fingertips against the flat surface of his desk, "There is one point that intrigues me, of course- Prior to divorcing your, currently ex, husband, did you ever reveal to him that you were working undercover?"

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followthequeen
2010-01-28 01:29 pm UTC (link)

All expression from her face dropped, but the glint in her eye was one of barely contained rage. She was an excellent liar, not even subtle micro expressions betrayed her. Compliments of what must have been serious training; FBI? DEA? ATF? Any one of these agencies were known to cooperate with and assist the local authorities.

"I'd be very, very careful," she stated with a surreal level of calm, "what sort of rumors you're thinking of starting, Holden. There are a lot of rumors about me. But cop? That's a new one. It's one I don't appreciate. So whatever you're going to say next, I'd think over nice and slow what I just said and who I actually work for."

The reports of assault in Victoria's record may not have been exaggerated.

Clearly this was a round about way of answering Rupert with a no but if she could steer him clear of her identity she would. She'd spent her entire career protecting it. There was no way she would give it up so easily. And no way he could know in meeting her exactly once. No one was that good. That was impossible.

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oftrifles
2010-01-28 02:11 pm UTC (link)

Perhaps someone that wasn't him would think nice, someone would think slow, but Rupert had no time for such trivialities. Instead of contemplating, he listened - her reaction was everything he had assumed it would be. One who works to conceal their identity with such finesse was rarely to chuckle and point, harbouring an amused 'Great show, old boy! I say!' This wasn't the books and he wasn't Sherlock Holmes. He was just a man doing his job and doing it right.

He sat forward on the edge of his seat again. She wanted him to continue, otherwise she wouldn't have invited him to speak again. That was why she was still here. She was intrigued; clearly, she was a woman of intelligence.

Rupert took a cigarette from its pack - Marlboros, like his client - and the assisting lighter. The flame ignited against the nicotine stick and he tossed it aside, sitting back as he sucked on the filter. As he took the fag between his fingers again, he nodded, clearly ready to continue his assessment.

"I was hesitant, at first, I will admit, Miss Winter, but your reaction just then gave me all I needed," Rupert licked both his lips before continuing. "You see, you've mentioned the police not once, but twice. It is vital that I leave them out of the case you're leaving me with at present, this leads me to believe that you are afraid of them, but the way you react when you mention them is both respectable and angry. Thus, you are a criminal, or more likely, a policewoman undercover, sent to do the work you, possibly, cannot, for reasons that are all your own. You could very well be a brilliant criminal, but I highly doubt a criminal would trust a man nearly as bright as myself to go forth and obtain information that I would very well fabricate, when I discovered your true identity. It's redundant, and you are a woman who does not enjoy finding her time wasted."

Rupert took another drag off the filter and sat still as a cone of smoke blew past the corner of his lips. "I would highly advise you to tell the truth, Miss Winter. I can assure you now, the police never involve themselves in my cases unless they wish for my assistance. Everything exchanged within this room is between the two of us."

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followthequeen
2010-01-28 08:27 pm UTC (link)

There was no immediate response. No eye contact. Vicky processed his words carefully until she had finished her first cigarette. The fire in her eyes slowly died down leaving her tired looking. That Holden was intelligent didn't make him anymore trustworthy but rather dangerous.

She felt trapped. Again. And once again she had no one to blame but herself. It was now far too late to regret coming to him. She could either attempt to repair her cover and convince him she was a criminal-- not likely to endear him-- or tell the truth.

Vicky lit a second cigarette.

"Only three other people know; a lieutenant and two captains. The only reason I know they're not dirty is that I'm still breathing, but that doesn't make them exactly trustworthy, either. Most undercover operations last six months, maybe two years tops? I've been doing this for over four. I want out but I'm not exactly in a position to get what I want and being assigned to this building is not a detour I need.

"I could care less about the brat, but if I don't find out about the money soon my other employers are going to want dirt on the other penthouse princes. If I can't find anything I doubt I'm getting out of this with a simple demotion. And if I don't get out of this mess completely, I doubt I'm getting my identity back any time soon."

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oftrifles
2010-01-30 02:55 am UTC (link)

Rupert did one of the things he does best, then. He listened.

Smoke tumbled slowly from his mouth again as each word she spoke settled itself inside of his mind. It was a finely spun web that Miss Vicky Winter was losing herself, being tangled within, of that, he was certain. He was never one to refuse a case, no matter how over-their-head the person sitting before him seemed to be. This case would be no different. He would not allow himself to do it for the woman's sake. He hardly knew her, apart from the obvious facts she was practically dripping in.

He needed the money and that was simply that.

Rupert gave a curt nod as the silence grew between them. "I'll take the case," he said, settling the cigarette between the pads of his usual fingers. "You will supply me with the information I need on this -- idiot child, as you say, and what you seek will be yours and your identity returned."

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followthequeen
2010-01-30 03:45 am UTC (link)

Her face was a mask of neutrality until he mentioned her identity. She couldn't hide her doubt.

"Have you read the building's forums? Go back and read everything, especially the anonymous posts. They'll give you plenty to start with. You want an in with the Penthouse clique? The ex has a gambling problem. Set up a poker night and I'm sure you'll fit right in, they don't seem to hurt for money."

Vicky took a long drag before finishing cigarette number two." We done for now?"

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oftrifles
2010-01-30 05:29 am UTC (link)

A slender brow crept up the length of Rupert's forehead. "You have no reason to doubt my methods, Miss Winter, truly. I know we are not exactly on the most personal of terms, but seeing as how you have come here for my assistance, the parts that trust outweigh those that doubt."

On that note, he stood up in a single movement, extending his right hand in the woman's direction. "That is all I need from you today. Do expect to hear from me soon, my dear. I will be supplying you with checkpoints of information, there will be no doubt about that. Now, as for my payment," Rupert's mouth set into that of a grin against the cigarette's filter, as his bright eyes glistened, watching her closely.

"How I will be measuring your debt remains to be seen."

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	followthequeen 2010-01-31 09:19 pm UTC (link)
	Debt. What was one more pocket to be in, right? One more leash? Victoria kept her poker face, but the fire in her eyes rekindled. If he could do everything he said he could it might be worth it. Maybe. Vicky showed herself out. (Reply to this) (Parent)