Neal Caffrey (ihaveabadge) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2017-06-01 00:12:00 |
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Neal Caffrey & Pansy Parkinson
Late May
Cava
Wine tasting & a friendly challenge
Low - Complete |
The wine tastings each week at Cava were one of the events in Atlantis that Neal rarely ever missed. At most typical wine bars, the selection would usually be subpar for such nights or would at least become repetitive. This wasn’t the case when it came to Thursday nights at Cava. Most of the servers and bartenders knew him by face and name. They greeted him any time he walked through the doors and made sure to serve him something that might surprise him on first taste. Neal was someone who loved wine, and had a rather… sophisticated palette when it came to which wines he preferred to drink. Perhaps not nearly as particular as Mozzie, but he could often identify a grape and its origination just from a single glass. This night was no different. He’d gotten off after a working shift at the office, changed clothes, and headed for the bar. After going years of wearing suit and ties to his day job with the FBI, he felt incredibly overdressed anytime he wore a suit when going to work at the local police station. He still did it sometimes, though, out of habit. The clothes were nice enough, but they didn’t have anything on the Byron’s old suits that June had entrusted to him back home. Sitting at the bar, he’d just been given his first glass when he saw a familiar face walk through the front door. He smiled a bit behind his glass as he took a sip and then raised the glass to her as she approached. “If it isn’t the artist in residence herself,” Neal said as she approached him. “Can I get you a drink?” “I never say no to a drink,” Pansy said, smiling back at him. She hadn't seen him since their encounter at one of her projects, which was disappointing. Aside from the fact that he was quite nice to look at, she'd hoped to have someone to discuss wine with - especially when there was such a plethora of options here. Since the seats on either side of him were currently taken, she slipped between his stool and the next and peered at the signage on the bar. “What are the options for tonight, then?” She hadn't always liked what Cava had for tastings, but she did like that she got to try vintages she normally wouldn't have been exposed to - even if they might be Muggle. “I'm just getting started myself, so I can't really say. Personally, I like surprises myself, so I let my friend the bartender pick something for me. His choices haven't disappointed yet. Neal flagged down the bartender for another drink to bring over Pansy. It was a rare gift, but there were some bartenders or servers that seemed to just know what to offer their patrons whether they were regulars or first timers. He'd come across someone in a Parisian restaurant who had offering food suggestions down to a science. The first time Neal had ever stepped out from the suggestions offered, his stomach had hurt for two days afterwards. “So,” he said once she'd been given her glass. “Any new projects lately?” He took a swallow of the drink, and his eyes danced a bit from behind the glass. “Did you get around to watching Mary Poppins yet?” Pansy, who had been smiling in anticipation of her upcoming drink, made a face at Neal’s question. “Hardly,” she grumbled. “I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to work those blasted gadgets. I managed, finally, to get the little disc in the machine without breaking it - and whoever came up with those flimsy things anyway? - but nothing on the telly vision changed.” Her frustration with Muggle technology was clear. While Pansy didn’t consider herself stupid (no matter what those awful Gryffindors claimed), she’d always struggled with Muggle contraptions. They seemed to have been invented with no thought for practicality whatsoever. Now, watching shows in the fireplace - that was simple and intuitive. Neal laughed aloud at the face she made. While he knew he would have been utterly lost in a world of magic like hers, it amused and entertained him to hear of her frustrations with the Muggle world as she called it. “It's a little more complicated than just sticking it in, but not too bad. You just have to know what buttons to push.” He smiled from behind his glass as he took another drink. “I'll come by and try to give you a lesson in the ways of movie watching sometime.” For some reason, the idea reminded him of Mozzie. He just wasn't sure if it was how Neal often had to explain things to him from time to time or imagining Moz being the one to show Pansy how to set up the dvd player while probably telling her that the COS Agents could be watching her through her dvd player. “Did you have any new projects going on? I'd love to take a look sometime at what you've got in the works. Last week I restocked my supply of paints and canvases, but I haven't had any inspiration yet. Then again, I don't really create anything of my own. But if you want a Monet replica that's just about as close to the original as you can get? I'm your guy.” “I will adore you forever if you could,” Pansy told him as she accepted her drink from the bartender. Of course, “forever” for Pansy usually only lasted as long as her attention span, which was really not all that lengthy. Already she was moving along with his change in topic. “You do...replications?” Now that was intriguing. She leaned forward, a glint in her eye. “Is there a very great demand for that sort of thing in the Muggle world?” She didn't know many other people who did the sort of thing she did, in the wizard of world or the Muggle one. Oh, they claimed to do good replications - or forgeries, let's be honest - but anyone with a good eye would be able to tell the difference. Now what Pansy did...that was much harder to suss out. Neal noticed how quickly Pansy lit up at the mention of replicas. Peter probably would have hurt himself with how hard he eye rolled at the use of the world “replica” because, yes, forgery was a much better term for what Neal did. In Atlantis, though, he hadn’t used his powers for evil but only to give his and Lissa’s apartment a little more decorative flair to it. “I do. Damn good ones at that,” he said with no sense of modesty. Neal knew he was one of the best there was when it came to forging art. To him, there was an art to the actual act of forging artwork. It was so much more than making sure the piece looked like the original. Any good amateur could do that. It was the up close and personal look that sold a true forgery. Brush strokes, aging, the blending of colors. Only a pro could accomplish that, and even then some fell short. “The demand all depends on what line of business you might be in.” Neal replied vaguely. “I do it here mostly for my own amusement, but back home I couldn’t exactly sign my name to a piece I was trying to sell off.” Many, if not most, master forgers would still find a way to include their own type of signature in a forgery though. “I see,” Pansy murmured. And she did see. She knew enough the business to be able to read between the lines. It seemed like their line of business wasn't too different, Muggle or not. “I was in the same situation back home,” she said. “I never really felt the need to sign my name to a piece I did, but I do admit it was sometimes difficult to let a commission go to its owner when I was done, knowing I may likely never see it again.” “Is that right?” Neal asked with some interest. He knew she painted, but it sounded to him like they had a lot more in common that he might have thought. “I usually found a way to sneak in my own signature somehow. Hidden and only visible to someone who knew what to look for, but I knew it was there and that’s what mattered.” It was also exciting to see if anyone would happen to catch it when they were authenticating a painting. When they didn’t? Neal felt like a kid a Disney World. “They have me working with the police again here, so my days of actively selling off my… replications are on hold. I have been working on a couple for my own enjoyment. A Raphael in particular that I acquired the original of back home.” He had to turn it over to Sara eventually, but it was still one of his favorite takes in all his years running cons. “And that's what you consult about?” Pansy asked. The pieces were coming together now, and it definitely intrigued her. Even though she'd never felt the urge to sign her own work, she'd often felt...lonely, being unable to talk about the finer points of her work to anyone. Her father had been the only person who knew about her work, and he'd never been interested in the details, only the result. “I’d like to see what you're working on now.” She leaned closer to him, a conspiratorial light in her eye, an acknowledgement of a peer, even if he was Muggle. “Do you miss it now? The thrill of it?” “One of the things, yes.” Paint forgery was only one small specialization of what Neal prided himself in as far as his skills and accomplishments were. “Paintings are only part of what I've forged, stolen, or conned out of someone.” His voice was lowered, but he didn't bother with ‘code words’ anymore since he hardly needed to gloss over the details with Pansy. Her eagerness was written all over her face. He recognized it because he had that same look sometimes. A look that scared and worried the shit out of Peter. He thought about her question even if it really didn't require much thought. Did he miss it? He missed his life in New York, but he also missed his old life too. “Yes. I miss the thrill of running a con that no one has ever tried before and then pulling it off. I miss the elation of holding something in my hands that isn't supposed to be there. Solving a puzzle or map left behind by some genius decades or even centuries ago.” Neal smiled and sipped again at his drink. Yeah, he missed it, but he was being a good boy here. “I doubt I need to ask because I can see it in your eyes, but do you miss it?” Pansy smiled faintly at his description of the thrill. He'd described, rather succinctly, how she'd felt upon taking on a challenge and completing her work. There was something especially satisfying about knowing she'd gotten one over on those smug Aurors, who looked at her and assumed the worst because she was a Pureblood. Pansy was often dismissed as being shallow and obvious; they had no idea how subtle she could be. After all, she hadn't been sorted into Slytherin just because of her name. (The fact that the Sorting Hat had considered her for Hufflepuff was a traumatizing experience she tried not to think about too much.) At his question, her smile turned impish. “That's a rather dangerous question, coming from a police consultant.” Oh, she knew the answer was plain enough on her face. But she was enjoying the banter. Neal held up a hand as if to feign innocence, but there was still a smile plastered all over his face. “Hey, I’m off duty. And like you said, I’m only a consultant. They still don’t trust me with any kind of official badge.” Even if he could probably have faked one or swiped one, if he really wanted to. “I’m not the type to tattle. Well, unless I’m working a case, but Atlantis doesn’t exactly have the kind of cases that require this type of undercover. White collar crime doesn’t run very rampant here.” Neal signaled the bartender for another glass. He could sit here all night telling tales if he really had the mind to do it. He didn’t give up the trade secrets, but he did like to brag about his exploits from time to time. “Are there any pieces you have your eye on to paint or are you keeping those to a minimum these days?” Pansy listened to his protestations with great patience, but when he finished, she smirked. “Not very convincing there. I can only hope you do a better job when you actually put effort into it.” She didn't doubt he would, though. He couldn't be unaware of his own charm, and she'd be surprised if he didn't use his looks and his charm to his advantage to gain the trust of a mark. She might not have the looks, exactly, but Pansy could be extremely charming herself if she wanted to be. “I don't think I have the right audience to properly appreciate my work even if I did find something I wanted to work on,” she said, complete with dramatic sigh. “So I do restoration work. Which, let's face it, some parts of this place sorely needs.” “If I was putting a lot of effort into it, the possibility of me telling anyone wouldn't have even crossed your mind.” Neal's second glass showed up then and he took a long sip. This place never disappointed. He smiled over at Pansy and didn't elaborate or go any further. Most of the time Neal wasn't one for fake modesty unless he needed to use it for a job or a persona. “I agree. I have a couple personal projects I'm working on, but nothing for the Atlantis masses. I've seen some of your work though - it's good. Really good.” Now his wheels were beginning to turn. “What would you say about a friendly challenge?” His eyes were beginning to dance a bit. Neal loved a good challenge, and challenges had been sorely lacking since getting here. This type of challenge anyway. “We see who can pass off a painting as the real deal. No one can know or we can tell my partners ahead of time just so you know I'm not trying entrap you. Same painting, same buyer to decide and authenticate what one they think is the real one.” He started to take another sip but stopped short and pointed a finger at her. “No magic. Pure artistic skill without any outside help. But I'll let you choose the piece if you want.” “Excuse me, magic is an art,” Pansy told him in prim tones. Muggles. They never did understand. She pitied them for that; they really had no idea what they were missing. But his challenge intrigued her. Like him, she’d been bored without a real challenge to keep her sharp, and now that Draco had gone back, she had no wagers to work on. “What are we playing for?” she asked curiously. “What would you be willing to put on this wager?” Regardless of how he answered, she had already decided to agree to it. “Mmm yes, I suppose it is,” Neal replied. “You know what I mean.” No magical help to make the piece look more authentic. He knew he was as talented as they come, but he could hardly compete with actual magic if she used all the tricks in the book. “What? Bragging rights aren't enough for you?” He was mostly teasing, but that would have been enough for him. Neal liked his treasures, but he got a lot of satisfaction - a lot of satisfaction - for knowing and being the best. He could practically hear Peter rolling his eyes all the way here across dimensions. Knowing he'd had a copycat a while back had been ego stroking enough. “But alright, the loser can treat the winner to dinner. Nothing stingy either. A real, white table cloth kind of dinner.” He got the impression that a Pansy already enjoyed the finer things in life anyway, so he doubted there would be much argument there. “Or if you have any other suggestions for the stakes, let's hear them.” “In our line of work, bragging could land us in a heap of trouble,” Pansy pointed out. “I’d much rather take my winnings in tangible form.” Hey, no one could ever accuse her of not having confidence. She finished her drink and pushed away from the counter, already thinking of the challenge ahead. “I'll be in touch with the piece to work on.” “True, but we’d still be able to hold it over each other’s heads. That’s the fun part.” He smiled one last time as she started to take her leave and raised his glass to her. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing what you come up with.” He watched her go but stayed on himself to finish off his second glass. Neal had been mostly walking the straight and narrow since he’d gotten here, so a friendly little challenge to mix things p a bit would be a lot of fun. |