Who: Leah Allen & Archie Curtis (NPC) What: A light evening of music, chat, and potential espionage. When: November 30th 1888 (backdated) Where: Private box at the opera. Rating: Low
Archie didn't very much like opera but like most of the civilized—British—world, he could fake it extraordinary well. Part of it meant maintaining a private box, which was expensive and easy, and the other part of it was occupying said box at frequent intervals. The latter cost nothing except time, and thus was considerably more challenging.
Or maybe it was simply dull. Archie had very little talent for "dull".
His godmother seemed to think he should cultivate a taste for it, at the very least a tolerance. Archie preferred to ward himself against the threat of dull respectability—and any version of vice versa—by keeping excellent company. Leah Allen, by any means of measure, was excellent indeed.
He had send her an invitation to tonight’s Così a few days prior along with a taffeta box of marzipan shells and a short note entreating her to come dressed so as to be "seen but not recognized." Archie didn't think Leah would have any trouble with camouflage.
And thanks to Una’s glamour, she didn’t have any whatsoever. The charmed bracelet altered her appearance just enough that people would have trouble recognizing her if they saw her without it. Nobody aside from Una, her father, and now Archie.
Opera wasn’t something she was passionate about, but she did enjoy it. Italian was a beautiful language, and one she didn’t have many occasions to hear or speak it outside of practice to keep the skill. But enjoying the performance wasn’t why she was here and she raised an eyebrow at Archie expectantly.
Archie leaned slightly, pitching his voice low enough to just be heard by Leah. “Did you notice the man in green below? Rightmost seat below. You’ll see him during the intermission lights if you haven’t already. Just keep an eye out for his companion - the one with wearing more stones than silk.”
Archie leaned back in his seat, hand idly curled at his chin to hide moving lips. “Declan Sallinger. Originally of Manchester although London has been lucky enough to host him for the past two years. He’s made something of a name for himself...with a certain type of people.” Archie grin was a brief splinter of white in the theater gloom. “Specifically the type of people who don’t like attaching their names to anything, shall we say, lawfully dubious? The polite term, I believe, is smuggler.”
Admittedly his godmother was seldom polite in describing Declan, but Archie wasn’t about to share that sort of talk with a lady.
Well, not while sober anyway.
Leah raised her fan to cover her the lower half of her face as she eyed the spot he indicated. “A smuggler hmm?” She wondered what sorts of things he smuggled. It could be anything that the powers that be frowned upon, or a desire to not pay taxes to the crown.
“What are we interested in him for and what is it you want me to do?”
“Interested is the kind way of phrasing it,” Archie said dryly. “In fact, we were quite happy to remain ignorant of Mr. Sallinger when he was a devoted criminal. Unfortunately, he then decided to expand into pseudo-legitimacy by trying his hand at corporate sabotage.” The dryness turned downright arid. “A big enough rat can ruin a whole cornhouse. Sallinger’s been interfering with supply lines - and being very clean about it.”
Archie’s smile was a white gleam in the dark. “Why is it that criminals are always so much better at using the law, do you think?”
“What I would like you to do, dearest madam,” he continued blithely, “is simply observe him. Get to know him - from a distance. We know what kind of businessman he is. What I’d like to know is what kind of man he is outside of business. Paint me a portrait, Leah.”
The arid tone hadn’t gone unnoticed. She wondered what the Mancunian had done to MPC’s supply lines that had Archie so upset with him, and what benefit it had netted him. Nobody did anything in business just for the heck of it, so there must be a reason.
“So that’s why you mentioned the companion with all the jewelry.” Leah observed. “You want me to get to know her in order to learn more about him? Why the indirect approach?”
"Actually, I mentioned her because the last time I saw someone carrying that much rock I was drunk and naked in a quarry," Archie said cheerfully. "Third worst Christmas of my life." He paused. "Well. Fifth, maybe."
"Think of it as an exercise in circumvention," he went in a slightly, very slightly, more serious tone. "This is a people business. So - learn the people. Learn the people's people, and the people those people patronize."
And in the process, Archie reflected ruefully, please prove that you’re an asset I was right to hire rather than the source of yet another paranoid dinner rant. His godmother’s paranoia regarding the Allen paterfamilias - and by extension his charming progeny - was becoming taxing.
Leah couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her throat at Archie’s reply. It fit his personality so well it was hard to believe he actually helped run a major airship company, but she was coming to realize his public persona was only one part of a much more complex person.
She nodded confidently at his instructions. Socializing came naturally to her, and it seemed Archie was employing her to do just that. This was her chance to prove she was more than a pretty face and put her education to work. “You can count on me Archie, I’ll get you what you need.”
“Mademoiselle,” said Archie with theatrical sincerity, “I wouldn’t dare believe otherwise.”