Conall the Red, aka 'Mac' (ruadh) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-08-23 16:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | adrien green, mac |
Who: Adrien Green, Mac
What: Adrien is about to do something rather rash, and tells Mac about it.
Where: The Lionhart
When: Monday, 21 August 1888
Ratings/warnings: SFW
August was a month that typically saw Mac out of the city as much as possible. The weather was warm and the days still long, and he preferred to be out at his lands in the countryside where he could enjoy nature and let the poisons of the industrial city fade away.
Instead he had been stuck in House business all day, attending meetings and reviewing legislation. It left him grumpy and wishing he'd taken the Out offered to him after his injury during the Great Fire, but his sense of duty hadn't allowed it at the time. The barstaff had taken one look at his face when he arrived back at the Lionhart at the end of his workday and promptly left him alone with his newspaper.
Most other beings knew to steer clear as well when he was in a mood, so when Adrien sat down across from him it was something of a surprise.
Adrien grunted as he caught the Sidhe’s eye.
“Figure the only company a cussedly ornery son of a bitch can stomach is someone who’s equally ornery,” he said, shrugging. “You want to stew by yourself, feel free to tell me to go to hell.”
It’d taken a few decades of slow-building conversation and a nearly uncountable number of chess matches to reach that level of familiarity -- and even then, Adrien knew that their friendship (if he could be so forward as to call it that) had certain, distinct boundaries; it was only natural, given how long-lived the man was, and his additional obligations and roles.
Mac stared at him a moment, then gave off a ‘hmph’ and gestured for the vampire to stay in his seat. “True enough. What has ye in ‘cussedly ornery’ mood this fine evenin’? Me it’s wantin’ tae strangle a few o’ my fellow MPs who dinnae know when tae shut up.”
The Sidhe’s reply made Adrien shake his head. “M’ always ornery,” he said, shrugging. “Don’t need a particular reason.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’d like my boss, then,” he added with a flat drawl. “Man doesn’t even pause to breathe. We work in a place where we’re supposed to keep quiet, but he certainly hasn’t gotten the memo, and I’m not ‘bout to shush him.”
“Ravensworth is one of you all, isn’t he?” Adrien added, not necessarily meaning to heap on talk of work to an already loaded platter, but the vampire’s recent visit had been… unexpected.
“Sounds charming.” Mac drolled, folding the paper and setting it down. If he wasn’t going to be left in peace to read (and if he’d truly wanted that he could have done it in his own apartments rather than the second floor common room) then he might as well put it away for now. “I always ken that lot was full o’ themselves.”
Adrien’s comment about not wanting to quiet his superior was filed away for future reference. It sounded like the man couldn’t help but give away information if he understood the vampire correctly. Mac might want to look into that and see what exactly was being worked on, Titania and Mab were known to be suspicious of the Institute and the wonders that had come out of it. Solid intelligence might be helpful in that regard.
“Aye, he is.” A raised eyebrow was the only physical response he gave to the mention of his colleague and Una’s husband to be. No sense giving away information that Adrien didn’t need to know. “What of it?”
Adrien shrugged noncommittally. “Came by for a tour,” he said. “Looking to invest.” He frowned a little, thoughtfully. “Seemed… well.” He looked over at Mac. “Didn’t turn up his nose,” he said. “Wasn’t quite expecting that, is all.”
He tended to have the general impression that most vampires found his existence somewhat embarrassing, and no end of inconvenient. From what he’d gathered from his limited exposure, they prided themselves on pedigree, on purity, and hadn’t counted entirely on someone like him joining their exclusive club.
Corinne had been turned by a Sire looking for an exotic pet; by turning Adrien, and breaking away from her Sire, Corinne had broken the rules.
“Really?” Mac sipped on a drink, eyebrow still raised. “Hmph. Well th’ man’s canny, true enough. Young too, I dinnae think he’s seen two hundred yet. Not set in his ways like some o’ th’ older vamps.”
“What’d he want to know?”
Adrien frowned. “Seemed interested in targeting his investing into biochemical engineering -- I mentioned the possibility of a blight resistant potato, advances in fertilizer, and he perked right up. Said trains and automobiles were more of an inconvenience than anything.” He paused. “And he asked after me. How long I’d been there for. What I did there. What I thought of the place. That sort of thing.” He looked over at Mac. “Interested like. Shit, very nearly conversational.” He shrugged once more.
There was a stout that had appeared at his elbow -- one of the bar staff who no doubt paid attention to that sort of thing -- and he took a sip.
He’d been debating whether to tell Mac at all about the djinn trapped at the Institute. Going after Merrick by himself would most likely be foolhardy, and dangerous, and he had no doubt they’d be most… aggressive in rooting out who’d done it and how after they discovered they’d lost their prize.
He had an idea as to how he might go about covering his tracks, but it was distasteful, and messy, and involved getting blood on his hands -- blood that wasn’t entirely innocent, mind, but still. That, and he needed to keep working there long enough to not be suspected. It was a job, but the knowledge of what they’d done turned his stomach.
He sighed, taking another drink of his stout, and shook his head. “The House of Shadows. What’s your mandate, exactly? Whom do you represent, as a body?”
“The House?” Mac blinked at the change of subject. He eyed the vampire across the table and wondered where that question had come from.
“Weel...ye could say we’re th’ Supernatural equivalent o’ th’ House o’ Lords. All th’ major races have some representation. Vampires and Wolves have th’ majority. We pass legislation affectin’ th’ community, oversee th’ Watch and Ministry, and advise th’ Crown on policy. Has no one ever explained this to ye before, Adrien?”
“I know the basics,” Adrien replied with a frown. “I’m just wondering… hypothetically…” his frown deepened, and he shrugged, dismissively. “If, for instance, there was a species who did not have direct representation in the House, would their interests and rights still be served by that body? If there was an injustice, or a question of… of legal status, of competing interests and claims,” he said, knowing it was beyond vague. “I’ve been working on a case study,” he said, a little lamely. “Similar, I suppose, to Somersett’s case.”
While not versed in every high profile legal decision ever handed down, Mac knew that one.
He leaned back in his seat and looked at the vampire almost accusingly. “Hypothetically speaking.” His voice had taken on a wary tone and the accent dialed down to barely noticeable. “Hypothetically speaking it would depend on the species in question and the parties involved. What are you hypothetically thinking of doing? And I dinnae want tae hear about a case study.”
“Something monumentally stupid, likely to get me in a mess of trouble, but don’t got much choice in the matter,” Adrien replied, quietly, looking down at the bar. “You got enough on your plate, and I don’t want to make you liable.”
He knew the Sidhe wielded power, significant power, but Mac hadn’t ever lorded it over him -- and he wasn’t sure he was willing to see how far their friendship extended. Which was rich, considering he’d taken steps to pass along his ciphered notes to Mac in case something unexpected happened.
Mac frowned. He honestly did have enough on his plate, even if he were sorely tempted to throw caution to the wind. But he had responsibilities and the world was more constrained than it had been even a century ago.
He stared a Adrien contemplatively for a moment, the fingers of his free hand drumming the table. “If all goes well on this hypothetical scenario how long do you think it will take?”
“A few weeks, maybe less,” Adrien replied. “You’d… well. I’d most likely want to talk again if something should go wrong.” If he could talk, that was.
And Mac would have his notes on the off-chance he couldn’t.
He shrugged. “Didn’t mean to give you somethin’ else to chew over,” he said.
“Dinna fash.” Mac waved it away. “I’ll expect ye tae check in regular, an’ if ye get intae trouble tell em yer supposed tae meet wi’ me th’ next mornin’ on different business.”
Whatever Adrien was getting mixed up in it sounded like there were types that would respond to his name being mentioned.
Adrien raised an eyebrow in surprise, but he nodded. “Well, alright then,” he said.
He leaned back in his chair contemplating the Sidhe. He wouldn’t have considered sitting across from him a few decades back, let alone expecting a freely offered show of support, but the world had a funny way of changing without one noticing it had.
He took a swig of his drink. “So. This Ravensworth. You gonna tell me what you really think about him, or make me guess?” A small flash of a smile hovered in the corner of his mouth as the Sidhe rolled his eyes and snorted in response, and at that, he very nearly laughed.