Insurance Who: Roman/Noah What: Gaining Leverage Where: Las Vegas, Roman's Apartment When: Shortly After "Those Are Feelings" Ratings/Warnings: Medium, Reference to Past Violence
Meet me at this address.
It wasn’t often he gave out his home place. He had to trust Noah. Wanted to trust Noah. Fire baby knew a lot about him. And he had to make sure that Noah wouldn’t flip on him.
Froufrou tucked into a nest on the couch.
Roman wanted to make sure his visitor was comfortable. A bottle of champagne chilled. He had something nice being delivered - filet cooked medium with vegetables and desert - and of course something for his best friend. Froufrou would get a bit of meat and vegetables as well.
He felt a little bit nervous. Nobody knew where he lived and for a good reason. He was a lawyer, he knew betrayal better than anyone. His own mother did that consistently and yet he trusted Noah with his life. And it was a special occasion.
Roman hoped his gifts had been well received.
Noah had received flowers and a bottle of cinnamon-flavored whiskey from Roman, along with a card. Honestly, the gesture confused him. He found himself confused quite a bit lately, as if his brain had been addled. Was it kindness? Control? He still wasn’t quite sure what kind of person the lawyer really was. As for trust, that had always been something expensive, far out of reach of the pyrokinetic, no matter how much wealth he amassed.
He was buzzed up, and made his way through the expensive lobby, into the elevator, whisked high above the rest of the peons into Roman’s cloistered tower. Noah knocked on the door.
Roman had been expecting the knock. With the Yorkshire terrier in hand he answered the door. This time he wasn’t dressed in a suit - to the nines of course but the slacks were expensive. Froufrou licked its maw.
“Ah, Noah. Please. Come in.” He opened the door and beckoned Noah in. “There’s champagne, dinner is on the way. Make yourself at home.”
Froufrou yipped. “Oh,” Roman sighed. “This is froufrou.” The dogs ears perked up and it sized Noah up.
Noah stared at the tiny, hairy animal. “It’s so small,” he commented, before entering the apartment. “Are you sure that’s a dog?” He looked around the foyer, noting the furniture, the light fixtures, everything that screamed ‘money’ and it was pretty much how he was imagining Roman’s home to be. He shrugged out of his omnipresent denim jacket, found a coat hook to hang it from.
Froufrou looked appalled. It growled a bit and tossed its manicured head. “Of course it’s a dog,” Roman laughed. The apartment was modern. Sharp edges, plain aesthetics though it brought the room together. His designer was worth the money. “This is Froufrou.” The Yorkie snapped its jaw as if to state its claim but otherwise it wasn’t bothered.
“Would you like to hold him?”
From Noah’s general understanding, dogs were supposed to be friendly, but when he looked into the black, beady eyes of the small Yorkie, he almost felt a chill. “No, thank you,” he remarked quickly, gaze falling on the bottle of champagne. He crossed the room toward it and poured some of it into one of the waiting flutes. “I’ll hold this, instead.” The pyrokinetic drained the glass in two sips despite the bubbles tickling his nose, then refilled it again. He knew he must have been acting strangely, but was too exhausted to hide it.
“I got your presents.”
Froufrou emitted a soft rumble of distaste. Rrrrrr. Roman laughed, setting the dog down in its nest once Noah was safely inside the apartment. A Grand Piano sat in a corner where the view of the city was expansive.
“Did you?” Roman inquired, nearly purring. “What did you think?”
Those gifts had been specifically chosen. Noah was acting a bit odd but he left it alone.
Noah took a moment to answer Roman’s question. The piano caught his eye, its glossy finish shining in the reflected lights of the city that flowed through the floor to ceiling windows. He knew about the lawyer’s history with the instrument, the resentment he felt when he was young and having his mother use him as a prop. Those were the kind of things the pyrokinetic learned and tucked away for future use, when the time was right. Finally, he spoke. “My first thought was why you sent them.”
He turned to look at Roman, holding the champagne glass by its delicate stem. “What do you get out of it?”
“To see you happy, of course.” Roman tipped his head to the side ever so slightly. What he got out of anything was solely ever his business, he had his reasons like anyone else. He doubted anyone else had been thoughtful toward Noah. And perhaps it was to remind his friend of their connection, that it was still viable and real. The lawyer smiled, filling up a flute for himself.
“What else do I need?” It was a casual question, perhaps a loaded one. He lifted a hand and touched the side of Noah’s arm gently. “I am glad you’re here. We don’t see much of each other anymore, which I think is terrible.”
Noah chuckled sardonically, his gaze dropping to Roman’s hand as it rested on his arm. “I don’t know how to be happy,” he remarked, and took a sip of the dry champagne. It was expensive and made his tongue feel like it had been coated in sawdust, but a drink was a drink. Though he was sure Roman had some expensive scotch hiding somewhere. “You were busy with your mechanic,” the pyrokinetic told the lawyer, meeting his eye.
“Tal. Big and quiet. Is that how you like them now?”
Roman smiled. “I am never too busy for you, darling. And you have been up to your own endeavors.” People like Noah weren’t those who bided time and kept quiet. “Happiness is something you learn in time, if ever at all. I don’t think that it’s a word thrown loosely to encompass one singular thing, though sometimes it feels that way.” Roman viewed happiness as something that happened in a moment which faded as soon as it appeared. It was not a consistent emotion.
A soft chuckle. “Ah, Tal. He has his purpose, just like everyone else. Eventually he will move on but for now he’s had a taste of the finer things in life and he’s easy to coax.”
“Oh, yeah,” Noah nodded, setting down the empty champagne glass. “Tal definitely strikes me as someone who demands luxury.” He followed the directive to make himself at home and located a wet bar with a crystal carafe full of something appealing looking. He poured the dark amber liquid into a rocks glass and poured it down the hatch before quickly refilling it, then sat himself in a leather chair.
“Coax him into what, exactly? Sleeping with you? I didn’t realize you had to coax people into doing that.”
“No,” Roman replied, laughing. “I suspect he is talented and I want to find out for sure. Once I know, maybe he will be more useful. I had to earn his trust.” He was still chipping away at that trust but he would crack Tal before too long.
He only watched as Noah made himself at home. Roman let him go, simply following along. “You must understand the depths of people, darling. At their core everyone wants the easy way out. Someone who cares. And in a city that thrives on greed, who is Tal to refuse a trip to Hawaii? A bit of spending money? I know this game.”
The lawyer sat down, making himself comfortable. Another sip from the flute. “What’s upset you, my darling? I’ll have them arrested.”
“That’s not necessary,” Noah answered with a half-hearted smirk. “I already killed them.” He looked out the window at the lights that blanketed the world below in a network of artificial stars. He didn’t live in a cheap building by any means, but his own apartment didn’t have this kind of view. Roman was probably well used to it.
“So, when you say talented, do you mean like me?” he asked curiously. “Do you think I’m easy to coax?”
Roman offered a grin at the reply. “Of course you did.” Why should he expect any less? Noah was already adept at handling his own business. Though the lawyer did like Noah to know he was always there if needed, even if they did take a break from being around each other for a bit.
“Right now, I can’t be sure. Call it a hunch,” Roman replied, waving a hand. “I think so, but I can’t yet prove it. Tal is skittish, it takes a lot of digging to get him to divulge information.” Of course, Roman wasn’t particularly giving in that category, either. But then this was his game to orchestrate, he made the rules.
At the question, Roman chuckled a bit. “In certain circumstances, perhaps. But not all the time. It’s what makes you so beautifully frustrating.”
“I have a mind of my own,” Noah remarked, polishing off the scotch and setting the glass onto a marble coaster. He wasn’t there to ruin Roman’s furniture, after all. The lawyer need only say the word and his assistant would buy him the most coveted new coffee table on the market. What an existence. “I can see how a person like you would find that frustrating.” He looked around the well-appointed home from his perch in the chair, what he could see from that vantage point, anyway.
He began chuckling. “I’m sorry,” Noah said, laughing. “This place is so depressing. It’s like hilariously depressing.” The pyrokinetic glanced at the tiny dog in its little designer bed, probably made from materials more luxurious than some people’s actual beds. “You mentioned there would be food?”
“Of course you do,” the lawyer remarked. There wasn’t doubt on Noah’s independence. It was one of the few features Roman could connect with, that and confidence. “And it can be in certain circumstances.” It was frustrating when he couldn’t easily get what he was after but then he had been learning patience the last few years.
Then Roman arched his eyebrows, grin faltering a bit. “What makes it depressing? I like it here.” He didn’t find it depressing in the slightest. “Food will be here shortly.”
There. Noah leaned forward in his chair. He had caught the falter in that expression, like a blip on a radar. It was something he had yet to witness in Roman. “Oh, I get it,” he answered softly, his gaze trained on the lawyer’s face. “If you don’t find a way to like where you’re trapped, at least a little, then you’re fucked.” His shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “Believe me, I know how that goes. But it’s a balancing act. You can’t like it too much because then what’s the motivation for getting out?”
He stood up, leaving the comfort of the plush armchair. He moved toward where Roman was sitting. “I don’t think I realized it until now, but you must be just as bored as I am.”
The observation was an insightful one. Roman grinned. “You have to make a cage personal, don’t you? Like you said, having a place that’s tolerable makes it bearable.” He didn’t doubt that Noah knew what it was like to be caught someplace. They weren’t so opposite, after all.
“Perhaps. What did you have in mind?” Roman offered a hand to Noah, an offer to sit.
Noah looked at Roman’s outstretched hand, debating internally. Humoring the lawyer seemed the best entry point, and so he took the proffered hand in his own and sat next to the other man. He could smell Roman’s cologne, his aftershave, woodsy on top of something clean and sharp. “Nothing in particular.” Which was true.
“Actually, you know what?” The pyrokinetic sat up straighter. “I want something from you.”
With interest, Roman tilted his head. “Oh? Now what could that be?” He knew this game. He played it, too. That was how these things worked though - you gave and you took when it mattered - these darker lined friendships.
From the little nest it was laying in, the Yorkie began to rumble in a cautious manner, turning its brown eyes on the pair of people.
“Insurance,” Noah answered simply. He glanced at the dog, who was staring straight at him in an unsettling manner. “I want something from you that could assist in a sort of...what’s the best way to put it?” He spun the empty glass so that the bottom of it pressed against the marble. “Mutually assured destruction. And since you already know quite a bit about me, I need something from you. Just to make sure neither of us is ever tempted to throw the other under the bus.”
“And what type of insurance do you believe suits your needs, dear?” Monetary? A blood sacrifice? Roman had considered that very thing occurring with Noah, a sort of slip up of something looked promising. The fire starter could be a loose end, yet Roman trusted him completely. “I could write you into a small fortune under certain circumstances as a guaranteed opportunity to disappear and start over, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Or did the laceration gape wider?
“Nothing as complicated as that.” Noah took out one of his phones. “I want you to admit that you used my, uh, services to get rid of John Schram.”
Roman smiled, “I did, but it was a plan that you and I formulated, together. If you recall. But alright, if that’s what you need.” Apparently trust wasn’t enough on its own, he could get behind that reasoning. “Tell me when you’re recording.”
“Always sounding like a lawyer.” Noah held up the phone and centered Roman within the frame, before pressing the round red ‘button’. “And action.” He leaned back against the sofa, careful not to jostle the device. This confession was going to have production value.
Being so eager to compromise all he had worked for wasn’t like him - typically he looked out for number one, but he genuinely liked Noah. Cared about him. It muddled things up and he didn’t like it. Roman sat up a bit, offering the camera a charming smile. “I used Noah’s services to have my business partner, John Schram, killed.” He didn’t even flinch, not a look of remorse or regret.
He pressed the button again to end the recording, then e-mailed the clip to two different addresses. Noah put the phone away. “I sent that to myself and to my younger brother,” he explained to Roman. “He safeguards a lot of things for me. But don’t worry. He doesn’t talk to cops.”
“Oh, lovely. Good to know.” The idea of such leverage had him bristled a bit, but he could understand. In the business they were both in, exchange was necessary for protection. Roman wasn’t going to talk to any cops, either. Not outside of the courtroom, anyway, for routine. Then the lawyer smiled. “Surely that can’t be all you take away from here.”
Just then the buzzer to the apartment blared. “Ah, dinner.” As promised. He got up and went to the door, taking the food from the delivery person. A hefty tip warranted discretion and once the door was closed Roman moved gracefully to the kitchen to unpack what was inside the bags.
Noah followed Roman to the kitchen lazily, leaning against the table and watching him remove food from packages. “What else did you want me to take?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Within the take away containers was an assortment of Greek food, something Roman had found himself oddly craving. “A plate of food, at the very least,” came the reply. He pushed a carton toward Noah gently. If the other had things he needed beyond a taped confession, the lawyer was sure he would make it known.