InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You're Getting a Cavity Search"

Irene Adler (makethembeg) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2012-01-30 21:18:00

Entry tags:

irene adler, jim moriarty

Who: Adler and Moriarty
What: Dinner
When: This evening, starting around 6pm
Where: Wherever he decides
Warnings: TBA

Planting the camera in Sherlock's apartment had been easier than she'd anticipated, even if he was obviously suspicious. No doubt he'd find it soon - if he hadn't already - but if it helped Moriarty bring him down, she'd accept any repercussions it brought. He had no way to prove it was her, at least, and using Carls name for the courier would hopefully make him suspect Moriarty more than her. And Moriarty was impressed, which amused her and annoyed her in equal measure. Did he really think her so ordinary? Well, dinner would change his mind. On that point she was determined.

The woman opened the latest text and smiled. 8pm. She could be ready by then, definitely. Standing and opening her wardrobe - she had insured to find an apartment with a proper walk-in - she started to browse. The money he'd provided had helped replenish her selection somewhat, and a few of her newly acquired clients had been very obliging, so her choice was adequate at least.

Some time later she'd settled on a McQueen dress and a pair of Louboutin shoes. The shoes she chose partly for their name - Lady Lynch. She felt it fit. Laying the dress out on her bed, she added sheer silk stockings and a garter belt and nodded to herself, satisfied. Then, remembering the temperature outside, she choose a fur opera jacket and added it to the outfit.

Now, she thought. Make up. Moments like these she missed Kate - the little red head had been so good at applying it just as she liked. But her own skill would do, and after a while she had carefully created subtly smoky eyes, and lips the same red as the soles of her shoes. After all, most of her acquaintances valued a kiss from one as much as a kiss from the other. Somehow she imagined Jim wouldn't value either, but the sentiment was there.

She dressed carefully, missing Kate yet again when she had to contort herself to pull up the zip on her dress, and popped her lipstick and phone into a little black clutch. One last check in the mirror, and she left the apartment at 8 on the dot. Timing had always been an innate skill of hers, and she imagined that punctuality was valued by the Irish man. Whom she had no desire to annoy - yet.

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sooochangeable
2012-01-30 11:18 pm UTC (link)

Moriarty had planned for this for quite some time, ready to spring it on Adler when he decided he was ready. It hadn't been meant to be tonight but he enjoyed being changeable. It kept people on their toes. Even 'The Woman'. He'd sent a driver for her, no match for the people he'd had in London, but they'd do. And stationed his best sniper on the roof. Its not that he didn't trust her... well actually it was. He didn't trust anyone. There'd be someone watching them as long as he wanted it.

The driver arrived at eight promptly. Picking her up and driving her through the city. Even changing cars. Jim wasn't going to take any chances. It wasn't worth it.

He was waiting at a restaurant more in Douglas County than Lawrence itself. It wasn't anything like what'd they'd be used to in London, for that he'd have to take her to a bigger city and this was still more a game to him than anything else. Adler too, he knew that of course. He knew just how much she wanted to keep him happy without giving up anything of what she was. It was adorable, really it was. But if she wanted to play, he was happy to oblige her. The Consultant Criminal who rarely met anyone was going to give her an opportunity few got. Mostly he was curious to see what she did with it.

The driver, silent through the drive out of the city no matter what finally spoke. "In there, upstairs." he said simply and got out to open the door for her. Again, as instructed. "He's expecting you." Another man who had never and would never likely meet Jim Moriarty. Oh he was curious to. But it was more than his life was worth to follow her inside. Literally more than his life was worth. He'd gotten paid really very handsomely for the job and so he didn't question. Moriarty himself of course was waiting, dressed in a decidedly well designed suit he'd had made as soon as the money had really started rolling in. He stood when Irene reached the door and gave a smile, one that didn't quite manage to reach his eyes. They never quite managed.

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makethembeg
2012-01-30 11:47 pm UTC (link)

The drive was pleasant, and changing cars tickled her. How very paranoid of him. But he hadn't become what he was by being trusting, so she'd forgive it. She ignored the drivers themselves, checking mail from a few potential clients as they drove, when she wasn't looking out the window, and dismissing them all as unsuitable. Too desperate, too poor, too - good god that request was disgusting, even to her - depraved.

After the changeover she started to focus more on the imminent meeting than her phone, although she continued to stare idly at it. She hadn't really decided what she intended to gain from the evening, other than the pleasure of meeting the man who met no one. He was just as fascinating as Sherlock, if not more so. Although not, from what she had seen on the boards, as good looking. Definitely lacked the cheekbones.

When they pulled up in from of the restaurant she smirked. This would not have been her choice, but of course he knew that. And, after all, Kansas hadn't been a choice for either of them. She stepped out of the car elegantly, simply nodding to the driver in acknowledgment of his words, and made her way into the building and up the stairs, ignoring the curious locals. Let them stare. Unless they wanted to get on their knees and prostrate themselves (and pay well for the privilege), they were of no interest to her.

She slowed slightly as she reached the top of the flight, making sure she was "composed", as he'd say. She pushed open the door slowly, and met his eyes immediately, returning the smile. It wasn't as cold as his, but it wasn't far off either.

Calmly walking the few steps from the door to the table, she extended a hand cordially. "Mr Moriarty. It's nice to meet at last." She scanned him quickly and her smile widened, almost mischievously. "I like your suit."

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sooochangeable
2012-01-31 04:33 am UTC (link)

She met his gaze. That was good, that was important to him. He didn't want to find after all her talk and bravado she'd falter at a man she couldn't control. ...Again. She'd failed with Sherlock after all, and that was still prevalent in his mind. Though she'd confused him, oh how she had confused him. He'd heard some of it, while he'd been consulting her and now, meeting her face to face. Oh he could see what she'd done and it must have been beautiful. Pity he didn't remember it really, waste of her art. And Moriarty could see that too, she walked like she owned the place, had dressed to impress and not once had she flinched in his presence. Others had, countless others.

Admittedly meeting him usually lead to death, only a few times had it not done. He did wonder how things were, how his empire was getting on without him.

Now though, now was the time to focus on the woman in front of him, not worry about the past. Oh yes, she'd require every bit of focus, just for the evening. She'd held out a hand. Good, good. Brave, some would say. He took it and shook firmly, his thumb momentarily grazing her skin. Soft skin. He remembered clearly threatening to remove it from her if she failed him. And she had failed him. But then again here they were, brave new world and she'd done well with the camera.

Call it a reprieve.

"Miss Adler" he said simply, doing her the courtesy of not calling her Irene. Not yet at least, and she had behaved oh so appropriately. "I'm glad you had enough notice to find something to wear." he said, raising an eyebrow slightly, the only reaction to her attire at all. It was impressed. Or as impressed as Jim Moriarty got anyway. "So tell me, am I what you expected?" he asked, motioning a hand to the table set out for dinner and already laid with wine lists and menus. "There's only so much you can get from a voice and an image." he asked as he sat opposite her.

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makethembeg
2012-02-01 08:58 pm UTC (link)

Adler hadn't consciously decided to meet his stare. That came naturally to her. Admittedly, she was used to most men faltering after a few seconds, her grey gaze unnerving them, forcing them to reconsider base truths about themselves. That he didn't was no surprise.

His palm in hers...interesting. Skin as soft as her own. Clearly his claim of never getting his own hands dirty was true. And that split second he took to brush his thumb - was it meant to unnerve her? He'd need to try better than that. Or maybe he was simply curious. Wondering how high a quality of shoe he could make. She suppressed the thought ruthlessly, not letting a trace of it show on her face. That was in London, and this was America, a whole new world. Literally.

She acknowledged his comment about her clothes with a simple nod. She knew she looked good - she always did. But she could tell he wasn't displeased. Moriarty might consider himself unreadable by most people, but she wasn't most people.

She took off her coat and draped it over the back of the chair, then sat and crossed her legs in a deliberately demure fashion. "What I expected? Now there's a question. But I don't have expectations, Mr Moriarty. Except for clients, and I'd never insult you and think of you in such a way." She could imagine him as one, oh she could, but that wasn't a safe topic of conversation in any sense.

Picking up the menu, she stopped before she opened it, smiling slightly and looking him in the eye again. "And what about me? Does The Woman match the voice match the image?" You could hear the capitalisation in her voice, although it wasn't intended. It was simply how she thought of herself.

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sooochangeable
2012-02-02 02:51 am UTC (link)

Irene Adler knew how to compose herself, even if on some level Moriarty suspected she was worried. Not unnerved, just, maybe wondering what she'd let herself in for meeting him. Or maybe he was just assuming that because most people did. She was hardly most people or he'd never have picked her out of the ridiculous amount of people that he heard of that wanted his consultations. She knew she'd had powerful information, what he'd given her was simply a push in the right direction. An idea of what to do with it, from there she could do what she wanted, so long as she'd done him a favour or two.

He sat after she did, gentlemanly as usual, which sometimes surprised people, the posh boy from Dublin had manners that he'd never let go of, even after everything he'd done, and would do. When she told him she could never think of him like a client though he couldn't help but laugh at the thought of it. Not that he believed her for a second. "Oh you have, you've thought about it, don't tell me you haven't. You've wondered could you make me beg for you. You're wondering it right now. It's fine of course, no different than me imagining just what elegant things I could craft with your skin. Don't be ashamed of what you are, and don't be afraid of what you say to me. Being afraid of me is more than enough but most people say that's just sensible!" he laughed, his voice inflections showing a wry amusement at the thought.

"As it happens, The Woman, is everything I expected and some more besides. I'm sure you have all manner of men and women quivering in their restraints. Tell me, Irene, which sex is harder to control? I have some theories myself but I suppose I come at it from a different angle don't I. Its easy to control anyone when you know what they'll die for, what they love most in the world. You do it through lust, pure and simple lust. It's a bit base but whatever floats your boat."

And in the next breath, "Wine? This place does a rather divine merlot"

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makethembeg
2012-02-02 10:10 pm UTC (link)

"Oh I've thought about it, yes. I can't help but wonder when I encounter someone so...unique. But I don't think about you in that way. Subtle difference, but an important one, in my line of work." She paused for a split second, wondering should she rise to his bait. Why not - if he wanted to do it he probably could, and there was no backing out of the situation now. "I'd make terrible shoes I imagine. Perhaps a nice handbag. But then I'm a little attached to my skin, I think it looks best where it is."

She glanced over the menu as he continued, but put it down after a few seconds. "More besides? Oh do elaborate, I'm intrigued..." she raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant. And wondering how much he'd bothered to learn about her while he was her 'consultant' - was he expecting a prep school brat, who dominated by dint of insult and intimidation, and broke when confronted? Or a scene amateur, who'd risen through the ranks because of her looks and not much else?

As to which sex was easier to dominate... "Men, usually. Though there have been some notable exceptions. The men just tend to be more desperate, more eager to bend to my will. Women are usually more cunning. But it all comes down to the individual in the end, of course."

When he highlighted their apparent difference in methods she couldn't help herself - she threw her head back and laughed genuinely (a rarity for her). "Pure and simple lust? You insult your own intelligence if you think I only use lust, Mr Moriarty. You think they come to me because they want me in their bed? You think I control them with my looks and not my words? If it was that simple they'd pay a high class whore - take that new arrival as an example. Most of them don't get to touch me, let along shag me." She said the last part with disdain, the crude word deliberately chosen to highlight her point.

"No. I get into their darkest fantasies and fears and I deconstruct them. I give them what they need and then they belong to me, and I don't need to know what they'll die for. I know what, deep down, they live for. And that is worth more than any external knowledge if you wish to control someone. I can sink their boat with a word, and that word doesn't have to be 'shoot'."

She finished with a smile, realising that she wasn't entirely maintaining her usual composure and hoping she hadn't gone too far; but she couldn't help herself. Simple?! Her work was anything but simple. She glanced towards the window for a split second before returning to her perusal of the menu, wondering if she'd be the next on his list of sunken ships, to continue his choice of metaphor.

"Merlot would be perfect, thank you. I was contemplating the fillet, and it should go nicely."

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sooochangeable
2012-02-03 12:56 am UTC (link)

For at least a minute he didn't speak at all. Not a word. He just let her rant. Base, he'd called her and she was furious. He really should have killed her for her insolence. Just one word. That word she'd mentioned and she'd be dead. Out of his way. But her whole revenge thing with Sherlock intrigued him. It would do. It was enough of a reason for her to live. But she couldn't be allowed get away with that. No no if he was going to keep Irene Adler on side then she needed to know her place. Which of course for a woman like her, it was going to be a hard lesson to learn.

"Interesting choice."

He gestured simply, knowing in that instant Irene wouldn't know if that action meant her death. It didn't of course. It meant the waitress. He quickly ordered the Merlot and told her they'd wait a moment to order their food. He was far from done with Irene though. For her insolence.

He gazed at her for another moment before standing up and moving around the table. He rested his hands on her shoulders, leaning in close to her. "Now, should we talk about fears Irene? Should we talk about what happens if someone deconstructs you? Fine, you're not a whore. But you still find the ones that crave you. The ones that need that kind of release. And for them, those men and women, you are a Queen, a Goddess that can bring them to their knees with a word. You're sooo used to it aren't you. Because it's been that way for such a long time. But then you came here. You wanted to meet me didn't you?" he asked, laughing. "But there's one thing I can't quite get my head around, just something that's come up. What did you think would happen? When you spoke to me like you did just now. The Woman? Please? One gesture from me and its all over for you. Who has the power 'Woman'?"

He let her stew on that for a minute. "Sherlock didn't get deconstructed is the thing. You promised me you could do it. You swore you could, and what happened. He tore you down didn't he. He got right inside you and he figured you out. And you lost. Have you ever lost before, I imagine its not fun. I wouldn't know you see. I've never lost. Moriarty, Does. Not. Lose."

He tapped her on the cheek just lightly at the final word before moving back around to his side of the table.

"You have till the end of dinner to apologise to me for how you spoke. And I want you to think very very carefully about your choices. Because you know how easily I can destroy you. Don't force my hand, Oh, and Irene, do try to remember who it is you're dealing with." he told her coldly. "Ah the wine. I believe we're both going for fillet. Leave that, I can do it." he told the waitress, taking the uncorked wine to pour Irene a glass. "I've heard its of a very good year. I'm sure it'll suit."

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makethembeg
2012-02-05 10:06 pm UTC (link)

When he didn't respond immediately she stopped hoping she'd gone too far; she knew she had. And the movement; she tensed, she couldn't help it. Almost imperceptibly, but she did. By the time he stood up she'd relaxed, realising it was a bluff - she should have recognised it, it was a move she used often. Raise the whip without letting it fall.

His hands on her shoulders though. That was not acceptable. Nobody touched her without her permission, without her invitation, and suppressing the urge to twist in her seat and slap him took every ounce of her impeccable self control.

When he started to talk, though, that urge vanished. After he paused to let her think she had to swallow hard before she could say anything - he knew what he was doing, standing there, just out of her view, moving nothing but his lips. Prolonged contact with someone was not a regular thing for her, not without her controlling it. It made her so very uncomfortable, and deciding what to say took effort.

"Yes, I wanted to meet you. I wanted to meet someone who I knew without doubt was an equal in playing games, and my words were not meant to cause offense. What you do takes planning and manipulation on a scale I couldn't hope to master. You..." oh God how she hated saying this, why hadn't she held her tongue and swallowed her instinctive rebuttal at his disdain for her profession "...do have the power."

When he spoke about Sherlock she bit her lip slightly. She'd done better than anyone before, damn it, yet he was right, she'd come so close just to fail. But she had given Moriarty what she thought he'd wanted prior to that. "I promised I could use him, and I did. He took less than 5 seconds to figure out the email, just to impress me. But he understood things I didn't expect the aptly named 'Virgin' to even contemplate. So in the end I lost" even The Woman couldn't keep a slight tremor and an edge of bitterness from her voice at this point "and no, it's not fun. I envy you that. I'd lie and say otherwise, but you'd know if I did I imagine."

When he tapped her on the cheek she almost flinched. She was not used to this, and she inwardly scolded herself again for not restraining her anger and brushing his words away - instead of the honest response she had given. The feeling of being at someones mercy was not something she had wanted to experience again; especially so soon after leaving 221B.

She remained silent during his final words, bar softly murmuring "blue, thank you" to the waitress as he ordered for them both. He had given her time to think, and she'd take it. She shifted in her chair, avoiding eye contact, uncrossing her legs. She sat forward slightly before recrossing them and taking her wine glass for a sip. She looked up at him with an almost-smile on her face, taking another sip. "The wine is beautiful. You're a man of good taste." She would bring this back in her favour. Somehow.

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sooochangeable
2012-02-12 01:01 am UTC (link)

Sometimes it was just so easy to read people. Ordinary people. Not that Irene Adler was entirely ordinary but she knew when she was bested at least, and bested she had been. It hadn't taken much. Just a gentle reminder of who it was she was dealing with and what lines she really ought not cross with him. Oh she might have thought she was being clever, or using her skills of seduction in some way but that didn't work on him. It never had done. Not ever. And her reaction, oh she was spooked. Hilariously spooked, and trying desperately to dig her way out of her own failure. But it wasn't that easy. Equal in playing games she'd said. Equal? Him? To her? Hardly. It seemed she still hadn't learned her place. Not quite yet.

"I do don't I? Over you, Over him over this whole stupid city given time. I appreciate the admission. But don't call us equals my dear, we're far from that." he told her, a decided chill to his voice, a different tone to the time before. "But by all means, continue to flatter. I do enjoy it."

The bitterness was hilarious. Oh how she hated Sherlock for beating her, and probably him as well for simply being smarter than her, and like she'd said, more powerful. He had power over The Woman and it was kind of fun really. It would keep her from being skinned at least, for the next while. Although it was such soft skin. There would be such poetry to it. Maybe he'd send her to Sherlock one day if he thought he'd care enough. Maybe to Watson, or to one of the little friends she'd undoubtedly made by now. Or maybe he'd just use her, wine and dine her. Keep her on side. Keep her knowing her place. "There's no shame in failure to him. Not for you anyway, compared to him you're ordinary. But that's alright. I forgive you, shouldn't have sent someone else to do what in the end has to be my job. You don't seduce Sherlock with sex you seduce him with intellect, with puzzles befitting him. And I have such plans sweet Irene. Such plans.

Irene was back on form after her little moment of fluster and to tell the truth he was impressed with how quickly. "I like to think I have better taste than most yes. You're enjoying the wine then?"

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makethembeg
2012-02-19 08:42 pm UTC (link)

She took a deep breath before she replied. "I have my pride Mr Moriarty. Maybe we're not equals, but I'd hardly admit that, would I?" And she wouldn't. She would tell him he had the power, yes, but to say he was superior to her? It would kill her. She never admitted inferiority to anyone, not even Sherlock, and she was damned if she was going to do so now. She was terrified, true, but that was better than belittling herself.

She bit her lip when he said there was no shame in Sherlock beating her. Maybe he didn't think so, but The Woman was not beaten, not ever, and it still stung. But she simply nodded. "I am glad you have plans. If there is anything I can do to advance them, please tell me. I want to see him fall as much as you do. As you already know." And she meant it; if she could help she would, no matter the request. She wanted him to learn how it felt more than she had wanted anything in her life.

His comment about his sense of taste made her smile slightly. "Oh, you do. Between the suit and the wine I'm very impressed so far. I'm enjoying it thoroughly, thank you." She took a third sip, swirling it around appreciatively. A small sip though, as with the previous two; she had no intention of getting drunk and letting her guard drop.

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