log; cian & cormac (silent cries) Who: Cormac & Cian What: Looking for a code breaker Where: The Blue Bear When: Backdated: Thursday, 6/26 Rating: PG-13 because look who’s in it Status: Complete
Cormac didn’t enjoy asking anyone for anything, but he also wasn’t stupid. While he wasn’t going to put all his eggs in one basket, he understood some simple things. Cian was reliable. With the exception of him randomly being out of town, whenever Cormac had needed something, he was around to provide, no matter the vice. He hadn’t asked for anything particularly rare, but it was always consistent.
While he’d gotten what he wanted from Emily in the end, his mind was still working on how to accomplish what she wanted soon after they were done. He’d honestly wished she’d brought it up after the act instead of before. They’d have been sated and calm and he wouldn’t have been nearly as annoyed at being taken out of his bliss so quickly. He was thinking of Cian’s face instead of hers, which was not nearly as pleasing.
He was thinking about it now as he entered the Blue Bear. He’d been there before, but it wasn’t his favorite place to frequent. He moved toward the back, as he’d done time and time again, and found a glass waiting for him. It was the waiting game, he presumed, but he removed his coat and laid it on the back of the seat before sliding into it. He crossed one leg over the other, before bringing a cigarette to his lips. The tip ignited as he reached out for the glass and swirled the warm red contents.
He wore a vest over his shirt. The pocket inside held some contents held the code that needed to be broken. Hopefully, as he had done in the past, Cian could provide.
The proprietor himself came in just one minute past the hour. Although he had been to a clinic the night prior and again this morning, the fact that he was injured would be obvious in the careful way he walked and the fading bruises not covered by his plain short-sleeved shirt. “Sorry for the delay,” he said. He hadn’t expected walking to be quite as much of a hassle as it had turned out to be (fuck it all, he hoped the princess wouldn’t take it upon herself to visit until at least tomorrow; he was never going to live this down otherwise).
Gingerly, he settled on the wooden chair opposite his visitor, moving his own drink (watered down beer, as always) towards him but not listing the mug. “How can I help you, buddy?”
Cormac watched the man as he made his entrance. His nose crinkled, not that he verbalized the lack of seeing Cian for the injuries he was now suffering. "No worries," he said smoothing out his features. "You're a busy man and apparently not in good health. I hope I didn't inconvenience you too much." He didn't mean it really, but it was a nicety that was extended from time to time.
Even as the words were spoken, his hand slipped into the inner pocket of his vest to pull out the envelope. "I was hoping you had a code breaker, someone who could decipher these papers," he said placing them down on the surface of the table. He did not move his hands from them. "Discreetly, of course."
Cian shrugged his shoulders slightly -- more would have sent stabs of agony through his ribs -- and said, “Work goes on. Tangled with a giant fucking lizard… thing. I’m told I’ll survive.”
He took the papers that were slid across the table and for a few moments was quiet, looking over the lines of letters and numbers. “This guy -- lady, whatever -- has a creative bookkeeper,” he said at last. “And it seems like whoever it is is making a lot of money. They’re accounting and inventory statements.” He set the papers down, one hand over them, saying, “It’s not code, anyway. More like shorthand. Which means getting the info from the source is easier than playing translator. You want to tell me where this came from?” he queried. It was, to put it mildly, a lot of money indeed, so he couldn’t help being curious. “Provided you can pay the fee, I’ll get you an answer.” With a thin smile, he added, “Discreetly. Which is the way I try to do most things.”
Cormac instinctively wanted to protect Emily by keeping her name out of it, but Cian knew him. He knew that if he said he'd found it in her father's study and just needed it worked out, he'd catch him in a lie. They'd had a good relationship up to this point and he didn't want to sully it with one of those. It was clear he was struggling with it, but eventually he settled on an answer he could deal with.
"My fiancee suspects her father of doing something unlawful," he said easily. "She just wants to confirmation on whether she is correct or not." Not a lie at all. "I told her I'd take care of it," he added. "And what's the fee?" The "discreetly" wasn't to insult Cian's professionalism, just a marker. Some things didn't matter if they had gotten out. This was one of the more delicately handled situations.
“Most nobles do unlawful things,” Cian said easily. “Good thing you don’t need to get used to it, marrying in.” It was true, too. With money came the privilege of distancing oneself from the overburdened justice system and if necessary buying one’s way easily out of difficulty. “Most don’t make these sorts of gains, though.” That was the interesting piece -- if it was illegal, and moving in this city, and this lucrative, why didn’t he know about it? Big money in the shadows tended to glint despite anyone’s efforts. Yeah, interesting.
“I can send you over an estimate,” he said after a moment, sitting back in his chair. “I can’t say exactly, but about what you’d pay a moderately good info broker, additional fees to be discussed as they come up. If he’s smart, it’ll be a bit more expensive,” he added with a small, wry smile. He could get tiny to plant some surveillance, winnow his way into the guy’s financials, see where his aboveboard money came from and where he was connected to the Thieves’ Guild (most nobles did business with the guild one way or another; it was just a matter of figuring out where). The belowboard money would flow there, and meanwhile, he could start looking at who was spending these amounts. Either someone very well off, or a whole lot of someones -- the latter meant a business operation of some sort, and those left traces, too.
“If you prefer a more traditional PI,” he said, “I can recommend one. But you know me, so that’s a mark in my favor -- I won’t fuck with you, so you’ll get what you want with minimum worry. Or, if you’re feeling cheap, I can just go straight to the accountant and get it out of him quick enough, but,” he smirked, “that’s not quiet, and a smart guy might know someone’s nosing about if his bookkeeper suddenly runs off to Kerwon without explanation.”
Cormac listened to the man's explanations. He wasn't surprised that her father had his hands in something dirty. Considering what she'd done, it was only a matter of wondering what her mother was like behind that oh so pleasant visage. "If I wanted a PI, I would've went to one," he said with a shrug. "Work it out. Bill me later." Clearly, he put a lot of trust in Cian, probably more than he should have. He did all but say it aloud. The man had worked him through his darkest time. That did things to a man. Had they met prior to Emily's death, things would have been different.
He took a sip of the wine. It might not have been the best, but it was good. Didn't know how a place like this could get wine of this quality, but the man in front of him did work out of the back room so he didn't bother to question it.
The smirk grew, just a little. “Then consider it done. I’ll get you answers.” No mention was made of Emily, but that was now another interesting case, since she’d previously shown herself to be utterly bubbleheaded, but that didn’t entirely jibe with her suspicions -- or with the fact that she’d gotten her hands on these papers. It was mostly a passing curiosity, though; he had bigger things to think about.
“If that’s it,” he said, “I’ll keep you apprised of my progress. And if you want to have someone bring a fresh batch of painkillers my way...” no way around the aches and pains that came with healing breaks, and fuck, but was he getting old? He’d bounced back so much faster 20 years ago. “I’ll take it off the bottom line.”
"That's it." Cormac noted the grin. For now he just nodded at the promise of answers. The other request had been answered easily enough. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a vial. "Should hold you over until I can get a proper delivery sent."
Finishing his drink, he gathered his coat, throwing it on and upturning the collar, not that everyone in the bar didn't probably recognize him already. Probably thought he still owed the man money. "I look forward to your findings." Not as much as Emily did. Business completed, he gave a nod of his head and excused himself from the room.