Who: Brock Rumlow and Aramis What: Aramis is recruited When: Backdated: Early October. Afternoon Where: Undisclosed location Rating/Warnings: G Status: Complete
Aramis has done this enough times to know that, when arriving at an unassuming apartment out of the way of things, it's more than just a little job on the side. It does nothing to persuade him to go back home, though. On the contrary, Aramis is intrigued, and a bit excited - but he does make sure he has his handgun strapped on.
He walks through the halls, then stops at the unit number that Connor had told him. Aramis double checks, then knocks on the door, sticking his hands in his pockets.
Brock is likewise armed, and then some. He believes in always being prepared, so he has his ankle piece on him, plus a few knives tucked away here and there. And that's just on his person. Still, he lets Aramis in with a grin and a friendly pat on bicep. "Come on in. What can I get you to drink?"
The inside is just as unassuming as the outside; there's a living area with a kitchenette off to the side, bedroom down the hall. Sofa, coffee table, tv. Ikea bought art on the walls.
He gives Brock a friendly smile in turn, immediately taking in all his surroundings. He knows the other man won't be offended, it's standard protocol to know where your exits are. "Thanks. Whatever you have is fine. I'm not fussy." Aramis didn't plan on drinking a lot anyway. He'd sip to be polite, but he wanted his full alertness.
No offence taken, Brock knows the protocal. He grabs two beers out of the fridge and relaxes on the sofa, holding a bottle out to Aramis. "Come sit. Kick your shoes off, that sorta thing. Your day go okay?"
Aramis sits in a chair, taking the bottle and holding it in a slight toast. "I suppose. I didn't do much. Sat around, mostly. Tooled around the garden a bit. I need to put in some winter flowers so the entire thing doesn't look sad over the season."
"Must be nice, having a hobby. I'm not really a hobby sort of guy, as you might have guessed. I mostly bum around the gym when I'm not at work. Not real exciting, I know. But I find ways to fill the time."
"It's relaxing. I can't spend every day sitting in church reading verses, after all." Aramis quirks his lips a bit. "It's a good balance from the rest of my life."
"So you get bored," he points out. "And I think you'd rather do something exciting than relaxing, am I right?"
"It's an odd thing. When I'm off in the thick of things, I think, God, I'd just rather be home with my books. And then when I'm home all I want is to get back out there." Taking a pull from the bottle, Aramis watches the other man, trying to gauge where this is going. "At the end of the day, I know I'm no good for a quiet life. Definitely no good for sitting at a desk all day long."
"Which is why you're here tonight. Cuz you're bored, and you're looking for some excitement." He nudges his toes against Aramis's shin with a raise of his eyebrows. "You want the side job."
His eyes flick down. In any other situation, Aramis would act upon the nudge and take on flirtation, but he knows this isn't the time or the place. "That's right. Quite honestly, you played to vanity a bit by offering this to me, and I'm intrigued. What, exactly, is it that you want me to do?"
"I trust you, Aramis. I've worked a few missions with you, and I've seen how you operate in a team. I've also seen you work alone, and you're good. You're damn good. You worked CIA before this, right? And you miss that."
Aramis presses his lips together for a moment. The memory of his reason for leaving the CIA passes over and it's gone, then he nods. "That's right. A specialist team. I was their sniper, we did a lot of espionage work. I like to keep my cards close by nature, the whole thing comes easy to me. I miss it."
"What I'm offering you is a little closer to what you're used to. At The Agency, what we do is cover up. And that's all we do. But what if you could do more than just sweep things under the rug. What if you could actually get ahead of them. Stop them, maybe even control them." Brock leans forward, elbows against his knees, watching Aramis's face carefully.
Aramis's face doesn't change, save for a slight narrowing of his eyes as he focuses in on Brock. It sounds more than ideal, but he knows better than to accept things without hearing the full bit. He doesn't want to get caught in the catch. "And who, exactly, do we do all this under? Not the Agency, not Fury."
"No, this wouldn't be for the Agency. This is entirely different organization that I work for. Fury has nothing to do with it, he's behind the times. What my organization can offer you is so much more than just a boring desk job. This is a chance to actually use the skills you've worked so hard on. You are wasting away in the Agency, Aramis. And it's killing me to see it, it really is." Maybe he's selling a little hard, but their team could use someone with Aramis's skills and knowledge.
It's a bit overdone, true, but Aramis preens under the flattery anyway. He's nothing if not vain, and, honestly, having dreamt about leaving the musketeers has gotten his wheels turning anyway. He'd debated going back to the CIA, but this seemed an opportune alternative. "Does this ... Organization of yours. Do they work against the Agency or alongside them? Since you're an Agency man yourself."
It's a bit overdone, true, but Aramis preens under the flattery anyway. He's nothing if not vain, and, honestly, having dreamt about leaving the musketeers has gotten his wheels turning anyway. He'd debated going back to the CIA, but this seemed an opportune alternative. "Does this ... Organization of yours. Do they work against the Agency or alongside them? Since you're an Agency man yourself."
Aramis leans forward now. "And your organization would rather find ways to utilize it." He takes another thoughtful pull from his beer. "It isn't unreasonable, then, that at some point things might come to a head between the two? This one and the Agency."
"That is a potential problem, but one we've filed under 'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it'. Right now, we're operating mostly without the Agency's knowledge, and we've kept out of each other's way so far."
Sitting back, Aramis sets the beer on the coffee table and hums for a moment. "I have a condition, then. If you can meet it, then I think I'll be quite happy taking your offer."
Brock spreads his hands with an amiable expression. "Name it."
"My friends - Porthos, Athos, and d'Artagnan. If things come to a head between the two, if somehow they get mixed up in something, I want to be the one to deal with them. They're good men, very good at what they do, there's a better chance of me getting away alive from them than someone else. And it's very likely that I wouldn't take well to any of them being mistreated by someone."
Ah, that's the only catch. Aramis has people. People he cares about, and who care about him. Hopefully if it comes down to it, Aramis can be trusted to make the right decision. He nods his understanding. "Absolutely. You know them better than we do."
"It's ... Athos and d'Artagnan, I know, will be unmovable. Where one goes, the other is going to follow. Athos is a noble man out of time. Porthos, on the other hand, if he gets in the way of things I could have an easier time convincing him to move aside. It's better for everyone to leave the three in my hands." Aramis spreads his own hands. "It appears that I'm your man."
He grins and sets aside his drink to offer his hand to Aramis. "We're happy to have you, Aramis. My name is Brock Rumlow.