Who: Liam and Sam What: A brief meeting and giving up of a key. Where: Outside Firefly. When: Tonight! Warnings/Rating: None.
The night air was thankfully cool, not so much refreshing but at least tolerable in comparison to the heat of the day. The cab dropped him off just outside of Firefly, a spot he had visited several times since that first meeting between the others of the Phantom Door, usually by himself, though he had struck up conversations with several of the patrons if only to pass the time. But tonight, he had no such plans. He simply wished to meet with Sam and offer her a solution that he thought even she might approve of. If it was Raoul they wished to control, then so be it. Two different people they might have been, he was still fiercely protective of the French aristocrat, and to have him labeled as the attacker, as the one who needed to be ‘tied up’ angered even him, which was saying a lot.
He stood against the building, hands in the pockets of his worn, threadbare jeans, the shortsleeve shirt he wore emphasizing his lanky build, arms thin and lacking any sort of visible muscular definition. Writers didn’t have a need to impress by how much they could lift if they could put the words on the page, after all.
Sam hadn’t changed after her work shift, and the walk to Firefly was actually a welcome exertion after the fighting on the journals. She wore a blue work shirt, her name stitched in the thick, utilitarian fabric above her heart, and jeans that fell low enough over black work boots to reveal soft skin at the waist. She had no fucking idea what Liam wanted to see her, and she’d really just agreed so that she wasn’t accused of being scared. She wasn’t scared of Liam. She wasn’t scared of Raoul either, and she really wished she could just punch everyone through the door and fix this whole problem. It was endlessly infuriating to her that Christine didn’t just do something about the entire mess. Deny everyone pussy, or something. And then there was a fact that Sam didn’t actually think Christine mattered anymore, not really. She was a symbol, something to fight over, but nothing else, not as far as Sam could tell. It made her cranky, and she pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of her shirt and lit it as she approached Firefly.
Liam, academic and lanky, was impossible to miss, and she walked up to him and stopped in front of him before saying anything at all. In fact, even then she stayed quiet, quirking a brow and taking a drag off the cigarette between her fingers. Well?
He watched her approach, picking her out of the pedestrians that littered the sidewalk easily, even though they had only met a handful of times in person. Oddly enough, he could see his mother liking her, and that thought made his brows knit down as he wondered where that thought came from. Shaking it away, he pushed away from the wall slightly, just enough to raise him to his full height so he wasn’t slouching. “A solution,” he said as he pulled one hand from his pocket, extending it to her.
Fingers unfolded a moment later to reveal his key, silver and warm from being clasped in his hand. “Take it. If I don’t have it, no one will have to be worried about Raoul ‘getting everyone killed’, will they?” His tone was very matter of fact, flat in comparison to how he normally spoke, but there was no hesitation or regret littering it.
She had no idea if that would work, but she didn’t have any proof that it wouldn’t either. She stared at the key a moment longer, and then she took it, because hell if she was going to turn that down. Alright. No one had said anything about getting their keys back, not anywhere she’d seen, and it was a good solution. Christine wasn’t happy about it, but Sam was of the fuck her opinion just then, because staying alive was more important than music and Vicomtes, thank you very much. Still, she was pretty sure Christine wouldn’t actually let her give her own key away, so it surprised her Liam could. “He’s actually letting you do that?” Maybe he wasn’t as chill with Raoul as she’d thought; he acted like they were one in the same, most of the time, so she just took it for granted that they kind of were.
Liam bit his lip for a moment, wondering for a second if she would refuse, but as she plucked the key from his hand, he simply slid it back into his pocket and leaned back until shoulders hit the wall behind him. “Sometimes we have to do things that we don’t like. And if it solves a problem, then I might as well make the offer.” Raoul was ranting in his thoughts, an outright French tantrum that he could barely understand with how clipped the words were, but he could gather the meaning rather well. Take Raoul out of the picture, and what was to stop Christine from returning as he was sure she would, promises or no. It was simply the way things were, and there would be no reason for her to refuse to visit now other than Erik’s own anger.
“That’s all that I wanted. The three of you ought to be fine with him out of the equation, but do keep me up to date as to what happens please.” The author didn’t say anything more, not even a nod of exit as he turned on one heel and started down the walk, shoulders shrugged up towards his ears.
She didn’t stop him, damn Christine and whatever the hell she was whining about in her mind. “Shut up,” she told the other woman aloud, because Aiden’s jibe about not being able to control her had hit home, just as Sam had expected it was intended to. It still felt somehow wrong, depriving the other man of his world. Well, Raoul, not Liam. Whatever, same thing. Still, she tucked the key into her pocket, really believing it would stay there, that it wouldn’t somehow return to him without her even noticing it.
She watched him until he was out of sight, and then she checked to make sure the key was still in her pocket. Yep, still there. She considered turning to leave, but fuck it. She deserved a drink. Christine was still a mess in her mind, making thinking harder than Sam had experienced yet, especially after this selfless stunt of Liam-Raou-Liam-whoever the hell’s idea it had been. She pushed open the door to Firefly; she was going to get so fucking drunk tonight.