audrey (larcener) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-03-01 23:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, audrey leradine, miles baines |
Who: Audrey Leradine & Miles Baines
What: A Visit
Where: Whatever clinic he’s at
When: Late February, after this.
Rating: PG-13 (f-bombs galore)
Status: complete
It hadn’t been dreadfully difficult to figure out which hospital he had been staying at. Well, in theory, it wasn’t difficult. It was the walk and the strain on her own still healing body where the trouble truly lied. With a box of pastries from the Baker’s Dozen in hand, she peeked through the doorway as if making sure this was the right room. Quiet footsteps made their way through, a chair by his bed signaling that he had other visitors, or maybe he charmed a nurse. She wouldn't put that past him. Placing the box by his nightstand, she took a seat and looked over to him. He seemed asleep, she thought, and her hand reached over for his wrist to feel his pulse. It never quite left. “Ajora, look at you,” she began with her usual tone typically reserved for Miles. “What were you even doing out there? You look like shit.” No response. None of that backtalk that usually riled her up into tirades of belligerence. Audrey tightened her grip on his wrist. “Wake up you fat fuck,” she threw words out. Nothing. Without that spark, a frowned pulled on her lips, tone softening. “I’m sorry,” she closed her eyes, the grip on his wrist loosening, the only roughness remaining coming from her calloused hands. “I’m sorry for being a giant dickwad. Half the time I want to beat your face in, but then I’m here actually worried for your sorry ass.” Audrey let go of his wrist, leaning back on the chair and letting a frustrated sigh out. “When push comes to shove, he always has our backs,” Audrey echoed Ari’s words. “Ari said that. I hate it because I don’t really want to agree with it, but you didn’t have to stay that time. With the doll. You could’ve let me die.” Gazing down at her hands, she closed her eyes again. “But you didn’t.” As Audrey’s speech rolled on, her words fell on the ears of a not-entirely-unconscious mime. The limp-limbed act had started off as a whim, a curiosity—Miles, narcissistic ass that he was, had occasionally contemplated staging his own funeral simply to hear what the eulogies might be like—but it soon turned intolerable, the soppy emotion digging in like a knife. “Oh, for Faram’s sake,” he finally groaned at the opposite wall, rolling over and blearily peeling open one eye, then the other. “Such melodrama. You’d think you were the actor here, honestly.” Miles laboured his way up to a sitting position in the bed, dragging himself up with a hissed intake of breath (sharper than he would have liked, the broken ribs twinging). “Do you often monologue at unconscious bards? Should I install some memstone cameras in my bedroom at home, for safety’s sake?” There it was, that spark. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but it immediately clamped shut, teeth grinding against each other as her hands wringed together. It took every fiber of her being to keep her from punching him. With an exasperated sigh, she tried to let her anger go despite knowing too well that the mime was ready to instigate reactions. “Hello, Miles.” It was entirely forced through gritted teeth. His eyebrow arched at this unexpected show of restraint. He’d done his best to provoke, jabbing and prying, and it hadn’t resulted in anything. “Hello, Alys,” he said. It was such a simple, soft sounding word that had made her snap. Audrey threw her arms out to reach for the box of cookies she had purchased as she towered over him ready to hit him with it. Thankfully it was the smell of the sweets that had kicked minor sense into her. She sat down in a huff, opening up the box and immediately eating a cookie, as if the small treat could cure her boiling blood. Besides, Rene had made these. “Go fuck yourself, you stupid twat,” she spoke through her angry chewing, cold glare not leaving his eyes. He watched Audrey relent, and watched her attack the box of cookies with quite possibly the angriest dessert-consumption he’d ever seen. “Duly noted, and I’ll add it to the to-do list,” he sighed. Miles seemed too tired for any real ire. He watched her a bit longer, before reaching out and snagging one of the cookies for himself, accidentally crumbling it all over his shirt as he did so. “So,” he finally said, brushing himself off in annoyance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” It was difficult to formulate her request without being bold or blunt, so instead she took another cookie mulling over how to proceed with the conversation. It had been by her third cookie that she had garnered up enough courage. “I have a business proposition for you. Being,” the most skilled conman I know (she refused to compliment the giant shit), “that you’re in the business of con artistry, I thought you might be interested.” “Oh?” An eyebrow rose, his interest piqued—Miles tended to react to business opportunities like a bloodhound scenting prey. The words were hesitant and caught in her throat as she forced herself to at least try to at least try and mouth them out. “I need my inheritance. Basil isn’t real, let me marry him. I’ll give you five percent of my inheritance, that should be enough, then you can bugger off and do whatever it is Miles Baines does with his shitty time.” His jaw dropped. Realising how silly he looked, Miles then crammed another cookie into his mouth to try to fill up the silence and buy himself some (very rapid) processing time. By the time he swallowed, his mind had flown through this proposition but it was still reeling. “Let me get this straight,” he said, slowly. “You’re proposing hooking up my fake alias with your actually quite astonishingly, implausibly real noble identity? In holy matrimony, before the eyes of Faram and all His saints, say amen?” Audrey blinked slowly back at him, taking in everything he said and realizing how stupid it sounded. Her jaw clenched and she leaned back on her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Exhaling, her eyes had drifted to the side of the room as she thought it through. “It’s stupid,” she mumbled, falling into silence. The blonde didn’t look at him, pausing before continuing her thought process. “I had really thought about marrying and killing some hapless person off, but with Vivi, I can’t do that. Besides, I wouldn’t have the ball sack to do it, in all honesty.” “No, you wouldn’t,” he said automatically, thoughtlessly. Audrey wasn’t the ruthless murdering type; he’d seen her wrinkle her nose and shy away from bloodying her hands during jobs enough to tell. But he was still working through the idea, tilting it back and forth in his head and examining it from different angles, like some sort of museum curio. “And no, it’s not entirely stupid. Five percent, you say? If memory serves, your inheritance is fairly substantial.” The tantalising math had kicked in again, another array of numbers rearranging themselves in front of Miles’ eyes. “And for what amounts to really terribly easy work on my part: get dressed, say I do, and collect the payment...” “Fairly,” she echoed his words. Audrey wouldn’t miss the five percent. With four children in mind, Noel had left behind more than enough cushion room for both remaining daughters. “In theory, yes. It should be fairly simple. Besides, with the marriage, it might even open more doors for Lord Norwood to go snooping around if that is what you want.” Audrey paused, looking at him carefully. “Do you think your lie can hold up?” He almost scoffed at her – of course it’s what I want – but even Miles Baines had the foresight to bite down his tongue, and thus not spit in the face of this opportunity. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” he said, a little coyly, but then shook his head. “I’ve laid the groundwork incredibly well for Basil. A decade’s work went into that alias. He’s done the rounds at most of the parties and hobnobbed with much of Emillion’s elite, if not those in other cities. He rents an expensive penthouse here in town. There are land deeds for vintner property in some distant corner of Valendia – too far for anyone to bother visiting, I suspect – and some conveniently dead parents. His family married into their titles not too long ago, so they’re not old established money. Fresh little upstarts, but still noble enough for, presumably, any clauses in your inheritance.” How well that might hold up to close scrutiny, however, he wasn’t sure. But true to form, Miles stubbornly refused to mention any doubts. She watched him silently explain. It wasn’t until he finished speaking that she readjusted her posture, her mind clearly still in thought. “A decade?” It was hardly a question, as she played with the word. “Is that how long you—” Audrey cut herself off, catching herself already unconsciously antagonizing Miles as if she had been born to only curse him. “Out of curiosity,” her lips pursed, “what happens if you do get caught?” “It’s happened before.” He shrugged, the bandages on his chest shifting with the movement. “Whenever the game’s blown, I dump the disguise, run for the hills, and rebuild anew. Alas, I have a whole slew of deceased aliases—may they rest in peace, Faram grant mercy on their souls, et cetera, et cetera.” Audrey only frowned as he watched him explain. It was stupid feeling that was building in her chest. Pushing it down, she continued. “I’ve laid my proposition down. Marry me, you’ll get the five percent, then scramble out of my life because Faram forbid what I would do if I had you as a husband for more than necessary.” She scoffed, “I’d start to think my prior idea wouldn’t be so bad after all.” “Prior idea?” The mime blinked, temporarily thrown (or perhaps his current regimen of painkillers and sedatives had something to do with it). “Wait, which one— oh, mariticide. No, don’t do that. I’ll gladly provide you with one nebbish, foppish, nervous nobleman who can fend off would-be suitors by mere dint of existing, but won’t get in your way at all. So yes, let’s do it. Yes, Audrey, I’ll marry you.” His grin was already starting to curl up at the corners, with the incredibly particular smugness that came whenever Miles smelled money. His mood was improving, despite his injuries and previously miserable self-pity. Which is what led to him snapping his fingers, suddenly remembering something. “Ah. For that matter. I met your protege! He’s got quite decent aim, doesn’t he? Since he wasn’t exactly catastrophic on the airship mission and we’re a few heads short, with Rin and Arabella gone, I’m thinking of taking master Min for a bit of a test run. See how he does with some fieldwork, so to speak.” “No,” were the first words that stumbled out of her lips at the mere mention of Sky. “He’s absolutely—no.” It took minutes for the information to settle in, the realization that they were now down to: one ninja, one bard, one corsair and two mimes. Pitiful, if anything. Not to mention, now they had lost use of Bella’s ship leaving the group grounded unless they could find something better. “I would rather you drag both Tom and Rhys and make us suffer through your ridiculous prattling than have Sky come along. He’s a child, he doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation, I’m confident.” Frowning she dropped her head a little, “We’re no longer the merry women.” “Thomas has helped us more than a few times.” Miles sank back into his pillow, nibbling on yet another cookie that he’d surreptitiously nicked while Audrey’s head drooped. “But yes, you’re right, we’re at risk of undergoing a bit of a noun switch. I do like the sound of Miles’ Merry Men, though…” He sounded wistful and dreamy, before a swat from the girl snapped him out of it. “Again, Sky wasn’t bloody disastrous on the job he did join us on. I’m not exactly planning on handing keystone assignments” (the Coeurl came to mind, but he couldn’t mention it here) “to a child. But why would you be mentoring him if he didn’t show some damned promise? How else do we learn, but being flung arse-first into the fire? It’s how I picked everything up as an urchin.” “Yes, but at least when either of us started we knew the consequences from a young age. We understood what happened when you played with fire. Not him. He doesn’t get it, he’s that disconnected and you don’t understand.” Audrey was yelling, she had realized halfway through. Taking a breath, she continued as calmly as she could. “The only reason he is my mentee, if you could even call him that as I haven’t spoken to him since early to mid Libra, is because Ari thought I needed a distraction. My mother died and she thought it would be great to give me Sky as a mentee.” By now she was speaking so fast there were hardly any pauses in her words. “You know he has a twin in the fighter’s guild, right? And you know there was a bit of a fiasco when the two switched places, right?” This had turned into a complete rant. “I just want to find the man who introduced him to the Bard’s Guild and curb stomp him. No, this is a terrible idea. Just like having Loch join us is a terrible idea.” In anyone less masterful in controlling their reactions, Miles’ face would have painted every thought to cross his mind; instead, he turned dangerously still. “Loch hasn’t joined us. She consults and contributes occasionally—” “Gets caught?” Miles’ jaw stiffened. “I spoke to your favourite bard about it afterwards. For your information, Alys, if it hadn’t been her, then it would have been Arielle. Either way, one of them was bound to be caught, and Loch bloody well took a purposeful fall for the rest of us. She could have run, that night.” It had been enough to shut her up. Audrey’s face remained frozen, looking away from the mime in her own self-absorbed temper tantrum. It didn’t make sense, why take the fall? “I don’t understand. She hates everyone. Why?” Is it because of you? “Who the fuck knows.” He had some speculations, half-confirmed—Loch had already assumed he’d thrown her to the guards, and seemed genuinely surprised when Miles said he had no part in it—but they were hardly something he relished bringing up with Alys motherfucking Coulombe, of all people. “But that ambiguity is precisely why she will never, ever be a full member. Yet you can hardly argue that we don’t need replacements. So please, if you have any alternative suggestions for recruits, I am all ears. Ought we bring Rhys on board? Who else?” “Rhys, Colin. They would both be a million times better. Besides why get a thief with half the experience? If you’re choosing him because he’s small that’s stupid. He’s two inches shorter than me, and I’m better and more flexible anyway,” In truth she had never gauged his flexibility but this wasn’t something she was about to say to Miles, “The kid is fifteen, he’s going to skyrocket in height soon if he follows the fucking height average of this stupid city.” Audrey had shifted in her seat again. “For fuck’s sake, even Lan would be better.” “Lan is competent.” It was a compliment he could safely give when she wasn’t present; Miles was ever so much more reticent with the flattery when it came to women he’d slept with. “But not a team player, and for that, she’s obviously off the list. And Colin prefers the actual music, for all that I can gather—I’ve put some thought into this, Alys, for Faram’s sake. I’m not dead set on the boy, obviously, I hardly know him, but we could at least put him through his paces, hm?” He started scrubbing at his face, with an infuriated groan. “At this fucking rate, we might as well just put out an open casting call,” Miles muttered. “Calm the fuck down,” she growled back. “A test run, just one. If he fails it, no. If he passes it then I’ll have to shove my foot down my throat and suffer his company. Fair warning, he’s terrible at lockpicking and has no proficiency in alerting or mugging.” Audrey shrugged. “In short all he can do is steal and run away, which I suppose is the basis of our heists.” Audrey stood up. Their conversation was wearing out and after this they would only bicker. Taking one more cookie from the box, Audrey stopped at the door. Looking over her shoulder, she stared at him. “I dropped him because he directly disobeyed my orders and tried to steal from Cian. Cian could’ve killed him, he has no patience with anything. Know that, because the moment he disobeys you or decides to go off plan then it’s on you, not me.” Audrey looked to the ground for brief moment, then back to the mime. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a piece of shit wedding to plan out.” “Charmed, my darling fiancee. I’ll speak to you later, once I’m out of this.” Crossing Cian Wilde was an absolutely terrible, no-good idea, particularly for an untrained teenager—but then again, one could almost, in the right light, admire the shit-for-brains audacity of it all. Miles had certainly done so as a child, filching from the nuns and pilfering from the night watch, thumbing his nose at whoever noticed and then getting tossed into jail for his trouble, outrunning knives and the teeth of dogs. As the ninja left, the convalescent drooped back into his bed, his Mood (with capital M, as his brother knew so well) sinking back in like a heavy cloak. The argument had taken a lot out of him, as conversations with Audrey always did, since they always devolved into arguments. Which, as far as he was concerned, was a perfectly accurate depiction of marriage anyway. Basil and Alys would be so very suited for one another. |