and-a-happy-new-year started following you
Of course, of course. Are you sure you don’t want nice, cushy desk job? No? Fine. I know it’s a lost cause. You couldn’t keep out of trouble if you wanted to.
Really? How lovely! Do come by the yard, you’ve stayed away too long young lady. I’m sure everyone would love to see you. We should do a pub night like old times. I actually bought you something too last time I went on holiday with the husband.
You’re sweet Adler, but I’ve always been boring. I think I might have been considered exciting for a year or two around my early twenties, but I’ve long since outgrown any thrill-seeking urges I once had.
She was knocked out with horse tranquilizers, of all things. They must know her pretty well down there in order for them to automatically skip to the big guns when it comes to drugging one Charlotte Holmes.
Glad to hear it. Now just keep up with that not-getting-shot thing.
It’s true, I think we both know I would last maybe a week at a desk job before I started scaling the walls…. Probably not even a week. I’m afraid at times I might have as short of an attention span as our friend Charlotte.
I might just have to do that, I’m really touched you thought of me while you were on holiday. Aw, I do so miss the old gang at the yard, well, most of them anyway. I would be delighted to have a pub night.
If you dislike thrill seeking you might have chosen the wrong profession, and I mean, with Charlotte Holmes around I think we all have more excitement in our lives then we would need/want, generally. But don’t sell yourself short, I never found you boring.
Horse tranquilizers? Wow, now I’m really sorry I missed that. But I imagine she has such a tolerance to drugs at this point that nothing else would work. I did actually try to get one of the boys down at 6 to tell me why, exactly, they’ve got such a grudge against her over there. Didn’t get much out of him though, just something about starting a fire and a nun outfit. I wasn’t sure how much further I wanted to pry after that, honestly.
I’ll do what I can Inspector, I can’t say getting shot at is high on my list of good times, but it does make for good stories at parties. If I, you know, was allowed to talk about what I do, or even went to parties for that matter.
Pub night it is. Dimmock will be excited to see you again.
You are right about that, but I’m the owner of an unfortunate stubborn streak that led me to follow my childhood dream of police work. A bit foolish, I know, but here I am now, far too many years later, with far too much paperwork. Life at the Yard really was far less exciting though before the day I literally stumbled across Miss Holmes.
Fire and a nun outfit? Well, that’s more than I got out of them. I would have stopped prying there myself.
Probably best you’re entitled to keep your work under wraps now. I’ll have you know I blame every third grey hair I find on your past stories.
Oh my, Dimmock. The last time there was a pub night where Dimmock was involved there were several interesting songs that were altered to have my name in them. Some of them worked better than others. The rendition of “My Sharona” just got plain bizarre.
Oh if anyone understands a stubborn streak it’s me, afraid I’ve always had a bit of one those myself. I feel like Charlotte kind of just happens to people. Although I don’t think you ever told me how you stumbled on her. That could be an interesting story. I know I would love to hear it sometime.
Yeeeeeeeah. Fire and a nun outfit. I stopped there. There’s really only so much that even my curiosity wants satisfied. That and I think if I had pried any further I really would have had to go out on a date with that boy at 6, and I’ve been trying to avoid that for awhile…
Aw, I’m sorry. I’ll try not to worry you so much in the future, well as much as I can and still get my job done.
Hmm, I lost like three followers today
that’s a little sad, I don’t know what I did to offend you lovely people, but I’m sorry? I think ?
and-a-happy-new-year started following you
Adler, you never call, you never write, I was beginning to think you’d gotten yourself into trouble again. I’ve been, well, pretty much the same as I’ve always been. Boring old me. Nothing terribly exciting on my desk at the moment, although our mutual friend Charlotte Holmes has been ruffling more feathers than usual lately. We actually had to hold her in a cell the other day, which ended up being bit of a moral booster for some of the others here at the yard.
How has my favorite MI-5 agent been? Feel free to leave out any details that might turn my hair grey, as I do worry about you.
I know, I know, sorry about that. I’d tell you that I’ve been staying out of trouble, but I respect you too much to lie to you, and I think we both know I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t getting into trouble. Really late at this point I know, but I did pick you up a Christmas present on my last case. Nothing too exciting, but I’ll drop by the yard with it for you.
Oh come now, you’ve never been boring, Inspector. Lord have mercy, Charlotte. I heard that she caused a bit of an incident at Thames House, managed to miss it though. I’m afraid the boys down at 6 have even less of a sense of a humour then the ones I work with at 5. Did they really use an elephant gun on her? You have no idea how much I’m hoping that is true.
I’m doing well, just got back from a case that took to me to France, so that was lovely. And so you rest easy, I came back from this one with no new bullet wounds, not even a bruise.Of course, of course. Are you sure you don’t want nice, cushy desk job? No? Fine. I know it’s a lost cause. You couldn’t keep out of trouble if you wanted to.
Really? How lovely! Do come by the yard, you’ve stayed away too long young lady. I’m sure everyone would love to see you. We should do a pub night like old times. I actually bought you something too last time I went on holiday with the husband.
You’re sweet Adler, but I’ve always been boring. I think I might have been considered exciting for a year or two around my early twenties, but I’ve long since outgrown any thrill-seeking urges I once had.
She was knocked out with horse tranquilizers, of all things. They must know her pretty well down there in order for them to automatically skip to the big guns when it comes to drugging one Charlotte Holmes.
Glad to hear it. Now just keep up with that not-getting-shot thing.
It’s true, I think we both know I would last maybe a week at a desk job before I started scaling the walls…. Probably not even a week. I’m afraid at times I might have as short of an attention span as our friend Charlotte.
I might just have to do that, I’m really touched you thought of me while you were on holiday. Aw, I do so miss the old gang at the yard, well, most of them anyway. I would be delighted to have a pub night.
If you dislike thrill seeking you might have chosen the wrong profession, and I mean, with Charlotte Holmes around I think we all have more excitement in our lives then we would need/want, generally. But don’t sell yourself short, I never found you boring.
Horse tranquilizers? Wow, now I’m really sorry I missed that. But I imagine she has such a tolerance to drugs at this point that nothing else would work. I did actually try to get one of the boys down at 6 to tell me why, exactly, they’ve got such a grudge against her over there. Didn’t get much out of him though, just something about starting a fire and a nun outfit. I wasn’t sure how much further I wanted to pry after that, honestly.
I’ll do what I can Inspector, I can’t say getting shot at is high on my list of good times, but it does make for good stories at parties. If I, you know, was allowed to talk about what I do, or even went to parties for that matter.
and-a-happy-new-year started following you
Lestrade, what a pleasant surprise. However have you been?
Adler, you never call, you never write, I was beginning to think you’d gotten yourself into trouble again. I’ve been, well, pretty much the same as I’ve always been. Boring old me. Nothing terribly exciting on my desk at the moment, although our mutual friend Charlotte Holmes has been ruffling more feathers than usual lately. We actually had to hold her in a cell the other day, which ended up being bit of a moral booster for some of the others here at the yard.
How has my favorite MI-5 agent been? Feel free to leave out any details that might turn my hair grey, as I do worry about you.
I know, I know, sorry about that. I’d tell you that I’ve been staying out of trouble, but I respect you too much to lie to you, and I think we both know I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t getting into trouble. Really late at this point I know, but I did pick you up a Christmas present on my last case. Nothing too exciting, but I’ll drop by the yard with it for you.
Oh come now, you’ve never been boring, Inspector. Lord have mercy, Charlotte. I heard that she caused a bit of an incident at Thames House, managed to miss it though. I’m afraid the boys down at 6 have even less of a sense of a humour then the ones I work with at 5. Did they really use an elephant gun on her? You have no idea how much I’m hoping that is true.
I’m doing well, just got back from a case that took to me to France, so that was lovely. And so you rest easy, I came back from this one with no new bullet wounds, not even a bruise.
and-a-happy-new-year started following you
Lestrade, what a pleasant surprise. However have you been?
Drinks with the second most dangerous man in London
Sebastian’s eyes crinkled in amusement at both her confession and her praise. “I must say, you’re very good at knowing the best ways to flatter a man. First you tell me you’ve been stalking me for your own interests, and then you compliment my work. Next you’ll be telling me my American accent’s a good one.” He winked at her, before taking another swig of his drink.
As he listened to her story his face grew more serious, and he set his glass to the side, leaning his elbow on the bar. At her words, he felt himself growing angry; the only sign being a subtle tightening of his jaw. This was why he worked for the opposite side. Sure, Jim sent had sent him on jobs that had nearly cost him his life on more than one occasion. But he knew what he was getting into when he signed up. These government bodies didn’t have the ‘insane-criminal-mastermind’ excuse when it came to the safety of their employees. Even in his army days, Sebastian had felt safe in the knowledge that they would look out for each other. But in the spy business, it seemed even though you were working under the appearance of a team, it was every person for themself.
As she finished her story, he paused for a second before commenting, “Well. The people you work with sound like bastards.” Picking up his drink again, he studied Irene’s face, before smirking. “So, come on. I’m curious. Out of all the jobs you’ve researched, which one has interested you the most? I’m intrigued as to whether you’ve managed to get the whole story.”
Irene laughed, twisting a strand of hair absently around her finger. “Am I now? It’s good to know that I haven’t lost my touch at least, though I don’t know how many men find being more or less stalked all that charming and I really don’t feel qualified to judge your American accent until I’ve heard it, darling” She told him, finishing her drink.
She watched the expression on his face with a sort of open curiosity, the hints at the shift in his mood were barely perceptible, but she had spent a fair amount of time learning to read people from their slightest tells, and she was honestly perplexed by it.
“Why Sebastian, are you actually indignant on my behalf?” She asked in atone that was only half joking, letting the honest surprise in her voice slip through slightly. “How fascinating, and here I believed that chivalry was long dead and buried. That’s a bit sweet, actually. But yes, I suppose they are bastards, it’s sort of that whole ‘no honor among thieves’ bit I guess, except it’s more like ‘no honor among people who lie for a living’ … and I at least kept the engagement ring from that case. Mind you, I sold it and got a new gun and a pair of Christian Louboutins, so, you know, not a total loss there.” Irene said with a small shrug.
She considered his question for a moment, she had spent an almost ridiculous amount of time researching Sebastian Moran, and picking out one job in particular was not easy. But the idea of hearing any of them from his side was too interesting an offer to pass up. Irene sat in silence, tracing her finger nail along the rim of her glass before finally answering.
“Moscow. Last February. You’ve got most of MI-5 thinking that was a multiple sniper job, but I recognize a signature when I see one, and I’m more then reasonably sure that was just you who took care of that little group of dignitaries. It was beautiful work, by the way, possibly the neatest looking corpses I’ve come across. So, by the way, if you tell me that you weren’t the only sniper on that particular job, you just might break my heart. Of course, I have no idea why you were on that particular job, but like I said, I can recognize your work, and I’m sure your boss had his reasons. I’m afraid I rarely get all the details where you’re concerned dear, even I’m not that good.”“But I’m not most men, am I?” Sebastian said with a wink. “It’s nice to be recognised for your work. Especially when your boss is, shall I say, as famous as he is. As for my American accent, I’ll have to have a lot more of these,” he gestured with his glass, “before I even think about attempting one again. Like I said earlier, it’ll probably just end up in me being humiliated. And I had enough of that the first time around.” he said with a chuckle.
Taking another drink, he listened to her question, noting the surprise in her voice. Shifting on his stool, he gave Irene a small smile before answering, “I guess I am, yeah. I was in the army for a good few years, and in that sort of environment you learn to depend on one another. You’re just one part of a machine; any single person breaks that trust and the machine breaks. I don’t think I’ve truly lost that mentality despite who I work for now. And at least that’s something. A new gun is always worth it.” he said, grinning at her last words.
Sebastian sipped at the last of his drink while he waited for her answer. When it came, he let out a low whistle, draining the rest of his drink before replying. “Now that was a lot of fun. Five government officials taken out in one hit. I was sent because Jim’s client could only afford to sneak access to one gunman; therefore I was the logical choice. The logistics of the hit seemed impossible at first; they’d have to be taken out in mere seconds of one another, and during a high security press conference. I wasn’t worried about evading capture; Jim’s client would take care of that. It’d be the fact that once the first shot was fired, my targets wouldn’t be stationary for more than a few seconds.
“It turned out better than I expected, actually. Jim had bought me a new rifle for the job; a British L115A3 model. It’s capable of firing rounds at three times the speed of sound, so needless to say I was eager to test it out. It worked perfectly. I managed to shoot two of the officials before the panic began. Luckily I’ve had a lot of experience with the human response to gunfire, so it was easy to estimate what manoeuvres would be taken. The other three fell within 10 seconds.” He grinned, enthusiasm evident in his voice. “I managed to evade the security on the way out, which was fortunate as my magazine only holds five rounds. I didn’t have time to re-load before I left.” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly aware he was getting carried away. “Sorry. I rarely get the opportunity to discuss past jobs with anyone, so this is new for me. It’s a nice change. Just tell me if I’m boring you; I could talk for hours if you’d let me.” He chuckled, before his eyes alighted on her empty glass. “Another round?”
She stifled a giggle, strictly speaking, Irene Adler did not giggle, but the vodka was starting to go to her head and he was quite charming. “Oh I would say that you’re definitely not most men. But then I wouldn’t be out here if you were. Your boss my be famous, but you’re talented And I really don’t think you need to worry about the accent darling, at this point I’m sure no matter how awful it was I’d still like you.”
Irene grinned as he spoke, resting her chin on her hand and giving his arm an almost playful poke. “That’s really sweet, actually. You are quite a gentleman. Oh the gun was very worth it. Beretta 96 Inox Semi-Automatic, I love that gun, named it after a cowboy, take it with me everywhere.”
She straightened on her bar stool, folding her hands in her lap as he started to talk, smiling like a kid at Christmas, her grin widening as he detailed the job to her. “Boring me? Sebastian, you’re hardly boring me. I think that story might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard out of a man. If you want to talk past jobs for hours, I would be more than happy to listen. This is the most fun I’ve had in a really ridiculously long time. You should tell me what your favorite job was next, since we’ve discussed worst jobs.” She laughed, running a hand through her hair.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to get me drunk” she said with a light, teasing, tone. “But I never could say no to drinks with a handsome man. So long as you promise to still like me if my Jersey twang makes an appearance, I’ve been told that happens on occasion when I’m tipsy”
Drinks with the second most dangerous man in London
“Well then. Thankyou for both the drink and the honesty, Irene,” he said, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. “And Sebastian, please. If I’m dropping the formalities, it’s only fair of me to ask you to do the same.”
Setting his drink back on the counter, Sebastian leant forwards; one elbow on the bar, and a finger idly tracing his bottom lip. At Irene’s confession of her apparent ‘stalker’ behaviour he chuckled, “You’re making me sound like a pet project of yours. What made you so interested in me? You must be good at your job if I haven’t noticed you before now. Especially if your stalking,” he accentuated the word with a slight playful jaunt, “has been going on for some time.” At the mention of Jim’s ‘department’, he let out a laugh. “I’m not in the least surprised. He’s made a reputation for himself, that one. Although I think he’d be glad to hear that someone’s paying attention to his work.”
He went silent for a moment, contemplating her question. His finger had stopped its movement on his lip, and instead started tracing a barely visible scar underneath his jaw. After a moment, he spoke, “For one thing, the American accent has to be high on my list of ‘things-I-never-want-to-do-again’, especially not if it means making a fool out of myself in front of a beautiful woman such as yourself.” He smiled, before adopting a more serious expression. “In all seriousness, it would have to be one of my first jobs for Jim. I was sent to France with a few others; our target a French criminal who decided to cheat the boss out of tens of thousands of pounds worth of shipment. We were told to either get the money he owed, or wipe out his business.” Sebastian paused, taking a drink, before continuing, “What we didn’t know was that they were expecting us. Jim had failed to mention that this man was almost as clever as he was. We went in there expecting him to crack within the first ten seconds; instead we found ourselves hideously outnumbered. I was the only one to get out of there alive,” he said quietly, finger still tracing the scar on his neck. “To this day, I’m not even sure how. I think I managed to put a fair few rounds in their ranks which gave me the opportunity to run. Although, I managed to gain a few wounds myself. Three bullet wounds to the chest, and one to the arm. The worst was the knife wound to my neck,” he tapped the area his finger was just tracing. “I don’t remember getting help, just that I woke up in a French hospital 5 days later, according to their records. Apparently I was lucky to be alive.” Sebastian took another drink, meeting Irene’s eyes. “That was the worst job I’ve ever had to do. But I’m comforted by the fact he got what he deserved. Jim was not happy when he found out.” Shifting slightly on the stool, he gestured with his drink, “What about you? Think you can top that?”
“Pet Project? At what point should I just get myself a shovel since I seem to just be digging myself deeper by the moment?” She made a small groan, wrinkling her nose slightly. “That makes me sound so … creepy? But since you said it, then yes, I suppose you rather did become my pet project.” Irene ran a hand through her hair and took another sip of her drink. “I’m not really sure what to tell you about that, I think it partially started because I spend so much time looking at these clumsy, idiotic crimes that would be ‘criminal masterminds’ and ‘mob king pins’ are churning out - and then I ended up with your boss’s file one day, and by proxy your file. The other people they’d had look at it had only been able to make really weak connections between the two of you, but I started to notice that you have a sort of signature to your work and it was … elegant? And that impressed me. And that was before I even knew what you looked like” She shrugged.
Sebastian’s compliment caught her slightly off guard and she blushed slightly, twisting a strand of her hair absently around her finger and chewing slightly at her bottom lip. But what he said next effectively cleared her head, and she wondered if maybe it had been the wrong question to ask him. She hadn’t quite expected such a somber story out of him.
“I think topping that is a bit of a tall order… I’m not sure I have anything that even comes close to it.” Irene frowned, taking another sip of her drink while she mentally filed through the various cases she’d been put on. “Well, mine’s not going to be anywhere half as good after that, but there was this one job I did.” She straightened in her chair, mentally preparing for the story.
“So there was this group of Sicilians a couple of years ago that moved in around Whitechapel. They were mostly into arms trading and a bit of drug trafficking, which is sort of small potatoes where I work, and we generally let the police handle that sort of thing, since otherwise we’re stepping on their toes and they get really offended and it’s just plain ugly. But these boys starting getting into selling explosives, and from what we could tell, they were dealing with a lot of the people who show up on our ‘red list’, but nobody could prove it. So someone found out that, apparently, the group’s ring leader Michael Calidori has a thing for green eyed brunettes, so, of course, yours truly got sent in undercover on that one.”She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.
“I was on that case for almost a year and Michael Calidori really took a liking to me. I’d sent a list of all the people that the Calidoris were doing business with over to MI-5, but they kept insisting they didn’t have enough to move on, so I had to stick with the job. The next thing I know, the man is actually proposing to me, and still my higher ups are telling me I have to stay with the job, because it’s ‘not the opportune time for them to move in’ ” Irene said the last part with an almost mocking tone, taking a large swallow of her drink.
“The literally waited until the day of the wedding before they moved in. I mean, I was standing at the alter, in this horrible dress that took up half the church, minutes away from becoming Mrs. Calidori before the reinforcements came in. It was a nightmare, I mean, even I think pulling guns in a church is sort of crass. That was only the second undercover job I’d ever done, so I was terrified. And my darling ‘husband to be’ was going to put a bullet between my eyes right then and there once he figured out he’d been stitched up, I have no idea what would of happened if I hadn’t had a pistol strapped to my thigh” She laughed “So, not as good a story as yours, but it’s the best I’ve got I’m afraid”Sebastian’s eyes crinkled in amusement at both her confession and her praise. “I must say, you’re very good at knowing the best ways to flatter a man. First you tell me you’ve been stalking me for your own interests, and then you compliment my work. Next you’ll be telling me my American accent’s a good one.” He winked at her, before taking another swig of his drink.
As he listened to her story his face grew more serious, and he set his glass to the side, leaning his elbow on the bar. At her words, he felt himself growing angry; the only sign being a subtle tightening of his jaw. This was why he worked for the opposite side. Sure, Jim sent had sent him on jobs that had nearly cost him his life on more than one occasion. But he knew what he was getting into when he signed up. These government bodies didn’t have the ‘insane-criminal-mastermind’ excuse when it came to the safety of their employees. Even in his army days, Sebastian had felt safe in the knowledge that they would look out for each other. But in the spy business, it seemed even though you were working under the appearance of a team, it was every person for themself.
As she finished her story, he paused for a second before commenting, “Well. The people you work with sound like bastards.” Picking up his drink again, he studied Irene’s face, before smirking. “So, come on. I’m curious. Out of all the jobs you’ve researched, which one has interested you the most? I’m intrigued as to whether you’ve managed to get the whole story.”
Irene laughed, twisting a strand of hair absently around her finger. “Am I now? It’s good to know that I haven’t lost my touch at least, though I don’t know how many men find being more or less stalked all that charming and I really don’t feel qualified to judge your American accent until I’ve heard it, darling” She told him, finishing her drink.
She watched the expression on his face with a sort of open curiosity, the hints at the shift in his mood were barely perceptible, but she had spent a fair amount of time learning to read people from their slightest tells, and she was honestly perplexed by it.
“Why Sebastian, are you actually indignant on my behalf?” She asked in atone that was only half joking, letting the honest surprise in her voice slip through slightly. “How fascinating, and here I believed that chivalry was long dead and buried. That’s a bit sweet, actually. But yes, I suppose they are bastards, it’s sort of that whole ‘no honor among thieves’ bit I guess, accept it’s more like ‘no honor among people lie for a living’ … and I at least kept the engagement ring from that case. Mind you, I sold it and got a new gun and a pair of Christian Louboutins, so, you know, not a total loss there.” Irene said with a small shrug.
She considered his question for a moment, she had spent an almost ridiculous amount of time researching Sebastian Moran, and picking out one job in particular was not easy. But the idea of hearing any of them from his side was too interesting an offer to pass up. Irene sat in silence, tracing her finger nail along the rim of her glass before finally answering.
“Moscow. Last February. You’ve got most of MI-5 thinking that was a multiple sniper job, but I recognize a signature when I see one, and I’m more then reasonably sure that was just you who took care of that little group of dignitaries. It was beautiful work, by the way, possibly the neatest looking corpses I’ve come across. So, by the way, if you tell me that you weren’t the only sniper on that particular job, you just might break my heart. Of course, I have no idea why you were on that particular job, but like I said, I can recognize your work, and I’m sure your boss had his reasons. I’m afraid I rarely get all the details where you’re concerned dear, even I’m not that good.”
Drinks with the second most dangerous man in London
Sebastian’s smile grew wider throughout her speech, and when she’d finished he let out a bark of laughter. “I knew I was right to trust my instincts,” he grinned at her, finding the situation highly amusing. “I don’t want to think about how much of a fool I’d have looked had I not. It would have been a rather large mistake on my part.” Still smiling, he downed the last of his drink, before turning to the bar. He’d noticed Irene’s empty drink as they were talking, and resolved to change that. He was enjoying their conversation, and another drink meant an excuse for it to continue for a while longer.
He caught the bartender’s eye, and as he walked over, Sebastian looked towards Irene and asked “Same again?” At her nod of approval, he motioned to their empty glasses, saying “Two of the same, please.” The bartender nodded, and walked away to make their drinks. As he was doing so, Sebastian looked over at Irene, chuckling quietly. “A file the size of a King James bible? I’m extremely flattered. I never realised MI-5 cared that much about me.” He winked at her, before muttering, almost to himself, “If my file is that big, I’d love to see the size of my Boss’. They probably have a whole room dedicated to him.” His musings were interrupted by the bartender, who bought over their drinks. He went to put a hand in his pocket for his wallet, before he realised Irene had taken out her purse and was doing the same. “Now, Miss Adler. Tell me this truthfully; is there any point in me attempting to pay for these, or am I going to be fighting a losing battle?”
“Oh Mr. Moran, it is a completely hopeless battle I’m afraid. Besides, I owe you at least *one* drink” She told him with a grin and a wink as she slid her money across the counter to the bartender. “And I’m pretty sure at this point you can just call me Irene, after all, I’ve just been way more honest with you then I’ve been with a man in years.”
Considering how strong the first drink had been, a second probably wasn’t the wisest choice she could have made. But she was enjoying herself, and figured that they were past the point of potentially getting into a gun fight in the middle of the bar, so she relaxed, sipping at her drink. “At the risk of sounding like I’m stalking you or something, I have to admit that most of the research in that file is my doing and MI-5 hasn’t even *seen* most of what’s in it.” The second sip of the drink seemed less strong, but there was also the beginnings of the warm fuzziness that accompanied becoming pleasantly tipsy. “Your boss on the other hand, darling, he’s practically got a whole department, forget a room.” She considered the statement for a moment “No, scratch the practically bit, he has a whole department literally.” Irene grinned at him, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“All right then, one professional to another, what’s the worst job you’ve ever had to pull, and mind you, I’m still hoping that I’ll hear that American accent at some point tonight.”
“Well then. Thankyou for both the drink and the honesty, Irene,” he said, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. “And Sebastian, please. If I’m dropping the formalities, it’s only fair of me to ask you to do the same.”
Setting his drink back on the counter, Sebastian leant forwards; one elbow on the bar, and a finger idly tracing his bottom lip. At Irene’s confession of her apparent ‘stalker’ behaviour he chuckled, “You’re making me sound like a pet project of yours. What made you so interested in me? You must be good at your job if I haven’t noticed you before now. Especially if your stalking,” he accentuated the word with a slight playful jaunt, “has been going on for some time.” At the mention of Jim’s ‘department’, he let out a laugh. “I’m not in the least surprised. He’s made a reputation for himself, that one. Although I think he’d be glad to hear that someone’s paying attention to his work.”
He went silent for a moment, contemplating her question. His finger had stopped its movement on his lip, and instead started tracing a barely visible scar underneath his jaw. After a moment, he spoke, “For one thing, the American accent has to be high on my list of ‘things-I-never-want-to-do-again’, especially not if it means making a fool out of myself in front of a beautiful woman such as yourself.” He smiled, before adopting a more serious expression. “In all seriousness, it would have to be one of my first jobs for Jim. I was sent to France with a few others; our target a French criminal who decided to cheat the boss out of tens of thousands of pounds worth of shipment. We were told to either get the money he owed, or wipe out his business.” Sebastian paused, taking a drink, before continuing, “What we didn’t know was that they were expecting us. Jim had failed to mention that this man was almost as clever as he was. We went in there expecting him to crack within the first ten seconds; instead we found ourselves hideously outnumbered. I was the only one to get out of there alive,” he said quietly, finger still tracing the scar on his neck. “To this day, I’m not even sure how. I think I managed to put a fair few rounds in their ranks which gave me the opportunity to run. Although, I managed to gain a few wounds myself. Three bullet wounds to the chest, and one to the arm. The worst was the knife wound to my neck,” he tapped the area his finger was just tracing. “I don’t remember getting help, just that I woke up in a French hospital 5 days later, according to their records. Apparently I was lucky to be alive.” Sebastian took another drink, meeting Irene’s eyes. “That was the worst job I’ve ever had to do. But I’m comforted by the fact he got what he deserved. Jim was not happy when he found out.” Shifting slightly on the stool, he gestured with his drink, “What about you? Think you can top that?”
“Pet Project? At what point should I just get myself a shovel since I seem to just be digging myself deeper by the moment?” She made a small groan, wrinkling her nose slightly. “That makes me sound so … creepy? But since you said it, then yes, I suppose you rather did become my pet project.” Irene ran a hand through her hair and took another sip of her drink. “I’m not really sure what to tell you about that, I think it partially started because I spend so much time looking at these clumsy, idiotic crimes that would be ‘criminal masterminds’ and ‘mob king pins’ are churning out - and then I ended up with your boss’s file one day, and by proxy your file. The other people they’d had look at it had only been able to make really weak connections between the two of you, but I started to notice that you have a sort of signature to your work and it was … elegant? And that impressed me. And that was before I even knew what you looked like” She shrugged.
Sebastian’s compliment caught her slightly off guard and she blushed slightly, twisting a strand of her hair absently around her finger and chewing slightly at her bottom lip. But what he said next effectively cleared her head, and she wondered if maybe it had been the wrong question to ask him. She hadn’t quite expected such a somber story out of him.
“I think topping that is a bit of a tall order… I’m not sure I have anything that even comes close to it.” Irene frowned, taking another sip of her drink while she mentally filed through the various cases she’d been put on. “Well, mine’s not going to be anywhere half as good after that, but there was this one job I did.” She straightened in her chair, mentally preparing for the story.
“So there was this group of Sicilians a couple of years ago that moved in around Whitechapel. They were mostly into arms trading and a bit of drug trafficking, which is sort of small potatoes where I work, and we generally let the police handle that sort of thing, since otherwise we’re stepping on their toes and they get really offended and it’s just plain ugly. But these boys starting getting into selling explosives, and from what we could tell, they were dealing with a lot of the people who show up on our ‘red list’, but nobody could prove it. So someone found out that, apparently, the group’s ring leader Michael Calidori has a thing for green eyed brunettes, so, of course, yours truly got sent in undercover on that one.”
She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.
“I was on that case for almost a year and Michael Calidori really took a liking to me. I’d sent a list of all the people that the Calidoris were doing business with over to MI-5, but they kept insisting they didn’t have enough to move on, so I had to stick with the job. The next thing I know, the man is actually proposing to me, and still my higher ups are telling me I have to stay with the job, because it’s ‘not the opportune time for them to move in’ ” Irene said the last part with an almost mocking tone, taking a large swallow of her drink.
“The literally waited until the day of the wedding before they moved in. I mean, I was standing at the alter, in this horrible dress that took up half the church, minutes away from becoming Mrs. Calidori before the reinforcements came in. It was a nightmare, I mean, even I think pulling guns in a church is sort of crass. That was only the second undercover job I’d ever done, so I was terrified. And my darling ‘husband to be’ was going to put a bullet between my eyes right then and there once he figured out he’d been stitched up, I have no idea what would of happened if I hadn’t had a pistol strapped to my thigh” She laughed “So, not as good a story as yours, but it’s the best I’ve got I’m afraid”
Drinks with the second most dangerous man in London
His reaction had not been what she’d expected. Yelling and possibly drawing a gun on her … well that would be closer to what she’d had in mind. But he was perfectly calm, so at least no guns, for now anyway. Irene ran a hand through her hair with a small smile.
“Police? God no. Believe it or not, *this*” she made a vague hand motion between them “has nothing to do with my job. Completely off the books, the suits down at Thames House have no idea that I’m even here. In fact…” She tilted her head thoughtfully “I’m pretty sure they think I’m at the opera with one of the boys whose background checks went well enough that I would be ‘allowed’ to go out with them”
Strictly speaking, first informing someone who kills people for money that you were a government agent, and then further telling them that you had really no hope of reinforcements should things go south was not the most terribly clever thing to do. But Sebastian Moran did seem to be a gentleman, and she was sure at the very least he would let her get a few more drinks in her system before any sort of altercation, it was the polite thing to do anyway.
“I’m here because you’re interesting, and honestly, people usually bore me to tears.” She shrugged almost coyly. “Like I said before, Mr. Moran, I’m a fan of your work. That and I’ve always had a bit of a weakness for tall men with northern accents”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her comments. She really was leaving herself open should he have decided that she was a threat and taken action. He tapped his fingers idly on the side of his glass and studied her quietly, listening to her talk.
At the mention of her ‘weakness’ he chuckled slightly, taking a sip of his drink. “I guess it’s my lucky day then, isn’t it,” he replied, smiling back at her.He placed his glass back on the counter and resumed his tapping; silence falling on the pair for a second as he regarded her with open fascination. After a while he spoke, watching her face for a reaction, “I guess if you’re being this honest to me, it’s only fair I grant you the same respect. After you contacted me about the hit I did a little research myself. After all, one would be foolish to take on a job to find that it was a set up,” he smiled wryly, before continuing, “And when I found out what your credentials were, I nearly didn’t take it.” He paused for a second, a curious look passing over his face. “But you intrigued me. Why would someone with a perfect track record risk their job for the sake of a small fry like the Professor? I thought it may have been a trap, but…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t know. My gut instict was there was something different about this. And when you’ve been in this job for as long as I have, you learn to trust your instincts.”
“You looked into me?” she smiled with a an almost feline tilt of her head “That’s a bit flattering, even if you were just doing your job.” Irene regretted having downed her drink as quickly as she had, and with a slight frown, settled for tracing a nail along the rim of her glass.
“I wouldn’t say my track record is entirely spotless, I’m just very good at cleaning up after myself. Which is how I am managing to be here without my higher ups knowing. MI-5 recruited me because I have certain skills, and I agreed because it keeps me in designer dresses and hand guns and *generally speaking* isn’t boring. My working for them really doesn’t have anything to do with me having a finely tuned moral compass or a desire to ‘catch bad guys’. Neither of us is exactly ordinary, Mr. Moran. So I didn’t exactly figure “hi, I have a file on you the size of a King James bible, and a find you incredibly interesting, want to get a drink?” Would have really gone over.” She shrugged, leaving the glass alone and meeting his eyes.
“Besides you were bored, I was bored, and the professor was a bastard who had it coming. The way I see it, everybody wins. I mean, I got you to come out with me, didn’t I? That’s a win in my book”
Sebastian’s smile grew wider throughout her speech, and when she’d finished he let out a bark of laughter. “I knew I was right to trust my instincts,” he grinned at her, finding the situation highly amusing. “I don’t want to think about how much of a fool I’d have looked had I not. It would have been a rather large mistake on my part.” Still smiling, he downed the last of his drink, before turning to the bar. He’d noticed Irene’s empty drink as they were talking, and resolved to change that. He was enjoying their conversation, and another drink meant an excuse for it to continue for a while longer.
He caught the bartender’s eye, and as he walked over, Sebastian looked towards Irene and asked “Same again?” At her nod of approval, he motioned to their empty glasses, saying “Two of the same, please.” The bartender nodded, and walked away to make their drinks. As he was doing so, Sebastian looked over at Irene, chuckling quietly. “A file the size of a King James bible? I’m extremely flattered. I never realised MI-5 cared that much about me.” He winked at her, before muttering, almost to himself, “If my file is that big, I’d love to see the size of my Boss’. They probably have a whole room dedicated to him.” His musings were interrupted by the bartender, who bought over their drinks. He went to put a hand in his pocket for his wallet, before he realised Irene had taken out her purse and was doing the same. “Now, Miss Adler. Tell me this truthfully; is there any point in me attempting to pay for these, or am I going to be fighting a losing battle?”
“Oh Mr. Moran, it is a completely hopeless battle I’m afraid. Besides, I owe you at least *one* drink” She told him with a grin and a wink as she slid her money across the counter to the bartender. “And I’m pretty sure at this point you can just call me Irene, after all, I’ve just been way more honest with you then I’ve been with a man in years.”
Considering how strong the first drink had been, a second probably wasn’t the wisest choice she could have made. But she was enjoying herself, and figured that they were past the point of potentially getting into a gun fight in the middle of the bar, so she relaxed, sipping at her drink. “At the risk of sounding like I’m stalking you or something, I have to admit that most of the research in that file is my doing and MI-5 hasn’t even *seen* most of what’s in it.” The second sip of the drink seemed less strong, but there was also the beginnings of the warm fuzziness that accompanied becoming pleasantly tipsy. “Your boss on the other hand, darling, he’s practically got a whole department, forget a room.” She considered the statement for a moment “No, scratch the practically bit, he has a whole department literally.” Irene grinned at him, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“All right then, one professional to another, what’s the worst job you’ve ever had to pull, and mind you, I’m still hoping that I’ll hear that American accent at some point tonight.”
Drinks with the second most dangerous man in London
Irene smiled “I’d like to think it would take a bit more than an accent to offend me, Mr. Moran.” She told him with a small laugh “But if you say it’s that bad, I’ll let it go… at least until you’ve had a few more anyway”
She could practically feel the shift in his mood after her comment, and she wondered if she should apologize for it, obviously it had hit a bit of a sore spot with him. But at least it seemed to pass, even if it was only because the focus had been shifted to her. Strictly speaking, her occupation was not something that she was supposed to discuss, she had an entire folder full of fake identities for precisely that reason.
Irene frowned, twisting a strand of hair around her finger absently. It really was only fair to tell him, and probably better to be up front about it, even if it might make things get ugly. There was a moment of silence while she stared at the wood of the bar, weighing the pros and cons of actually telling him versus fabricating something like she usually did. She took a deep breath and tipping her head back downed the rest of her drink before squaring her shoulders and meeting his eyes.
“I work for MI-5 , actually.” She said slowly, gauging his reaction.
Sebastian watched the inner battle Irene was facing silently, his gaze not wavering from her face. Although he’d asked the question, it was one he already knew the answer to. After she’d approached him enquiring about a hit, he’d run a few background checks on her. You didn’t work for Jim Moriarty without picking up a few tricks of the trade.
He supposed after he found out about her association with MI-5 he should have dropped communication, but a part of him was intrigued. Why would an MI-5 agent risk their job by hiring a hitman to take care of someone? Surely they would have their own contacts?His mind told him it was a trap; after all he was working for the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever known. And if you can’t get to the top of the food chain initially, work your way upwards. But his gut feeling said that it was something different. And Sebastian trusted his gut instinct more than anything. It had gotten him out of many deadly situations before. Which was why he had agreed to this face to face meeting. He wanted to work out this little mystery.
He watched as she seemed to make up her mind, and quickly finished her drink before turning to him. Showtime, he thought. He was intrigued as to whether she’d tell him a lie, or trust him with the truth. And when the truth was said, he had to school his expression into one of indifference to stop a small smile from gracing his lips. “Does that mean I’m going to have a dozen police officers jump me as soon as I step outside?” His lips twitched at this comment, and he picked up his drink and took a swig to regain his composure. When he put his glass down his face was a mask, not betraying any emotion. He didn’t want to let her know that he’d known all along just yet. He wanted to see how much she’d let him into before he did.
His reaction had not been what she’d expected. Yelling and possibly drawing a gun on her … well that would be closer to what she’d had in mind. But he was perfectly calm, so at least no guns, for now anyway. Irene ran a hand through her hair with a small smile.
“Police? God no. Believe it or not, *this*” she made a vague hand motion between them “has nothing to do with my job. Completely off the books, the suits down at Thames House have no idea that I’m even here. In fact…” She tilted her head thoughtfully “I’m pretty sure they think I’m at the opera with one of the boys whose background checks went well enough that I would be ‘allowed’ to go out with them”
Strictly speaking, first informing someone who kills people for money that you were a government agent, and then further telling them that you had really no hope of reinforcements should things go south was not the most terribly clever thing to do. But Sebastian Moran did seem to be a gentleman, and she was sure at the very least he would let her get a few more drinks in her system before any sort of altercation, it was the polite thing to do anyway.
“I’m here because you’re interesting, and honestly, people usually bore me to tears.” She shrugged almost coyly. “Like I said before, Mr. Moran, I’m a fan of your work. That and I’ve always had a bit of a weakness for tall men with northern accents”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her comments. She really was leaving herself open should he have decided that she was a threat and taken action. He tapped his fingers idly on the side of his glass and studied her quietly, listening to her talk.
At the mention of her ‘weakness’ he chuckled slightly, taking a sip of his drink. “I guess it’s my lucky day then, isn’t it,” he replied, smiling back at her.He placed his glass back on the counter and resumed his tapping; silence falling on the pair for a second as he regarded her with open fascination. After a while he spoke, watching her face for a reaction, “I guess if you’re being this honest to me, it’s only fair I grant you the same respect. After you contacted me about the hit I did a little research myself. After all, one would be foolish to take on a job to find that it was a set up,” he smiled wryly, before continuing, “And when I found out what your credentials were, I nearly didn’t take it.” He paused for a second, a curious look passing over his face. “But you intrigued me. Why would someone with a perfect track record risk their job for the sake of a small fry like the Professor? I thought it may have been a trap, but…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t know. My gut instict was there was something different about this. And when you’ve been in this job for as long as I have, you learn to trust your instincts.”
“You looked into me?” she smiled with a an almost feline tilt of her head “That’s a bit flattering, even if you were just doing your job.” Irene regretted having downed her drink as quickly as she had, and with a slightly frown, settled for tracing a nail along the rim of her glass.
“I wouldn’t say my track record is entirely spotless, I’m just very good at cleaning up after myself. Which is how I am managing to be here without my higher ups knowing. MI-5 recruited me because I have certain skills, and I agreed because it keeps me in designer dresses and hand guns and *generally speaking* isn’t boring. My working for them really doesn’t have anything to do with me having a finely tuned moral compass or a desire to ‘catch bad guys’. Neither of us is exactly ordinary, Mr. Moran. So I didn’t exactly figure “hi, I have a file on you the size of a King James bible, and a find you incredibly interesting, want to get a drink?” Would have really gone over.” She shrugged, leaving the glass alone and meeting his eyes.
“Besides you were bored, I was bored, and the professor was a bastard who had it coming. The way I see it, everybody wins. I mean, I got you to come out with me, didn’t I? That’s a win in my book”
Drinks with the second most dangerous man in London
Sebastian noticed the look of surprise Irene gave him, but chose not to say anything; opting to take a sip of his drink instead. He grinned at her comment, before responding, “I don’t see a problem with that, Miss Adler. Besides, I’m only speaking the truth.” He took another sip of his drink, before having to cover his mouth to avoid spitting it out. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, laughing breathlessly, “but I’m sure your English accent isn’t as bad as my American one. I nearly got shot once because my employer insisted I talk to an important client in an American accent. The guy thought I was taking the piss out of him; didn’t believe me when I said that that was the best impersonation I could do.” He took a larger drink, trying to quell his laughter. Although it wasn’t funny at the time, (he’d threatened Jim with quitting because he’d been so angry; he knew he’d only ordered him to do it to show him up) Sebastian could see the funny side of it now he wasn’t in danger of having his skull blown out.
He looked up at her question, having finally stopped laughing. “I was born in London, yes,” his face took on a more serious expression, “but I’ve only returned within the past few years. I was recruited in the army for a while; reached the rank of Colonel. Even had my own regiment.” Sebastian took another drink, before continuing, “But after an unfortunate incident, I was dismissed. Came back to London after that. And here I’ve stayed.”
“All right, but you have to promise to let me pay for the next round” Irene told him with mock sternness, taking another sip of her drink, adapting to the strong taste of it. She considered herself decent at holding her liquor, but if the bartender continued to make drinks of this strength a second round would likely be enough to get her tipsy, but that was a bridge she would cross when she came to it.
“Oh, you’ll have to trust me that my English accent is … cringe worthy. It turns out that speaking with my normal one is less conspicuous then my clumsy attempts to pass as a native. But I have to admit to being more than a little curious now. Maybe we’ll have to compare fake accents at some point.” She smiled, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass. Irene rather supposed she shouldn’t find someone who killed people for a living half as charming as she was finding Sebastian to be, but she’d long suspected her sense of self preservation to be a bit lacking. She took another sip of her drink before she propped an elbow on the bar, dropping her chin into her hand.
“A Colonel, really?” Irene asked with an almost admiring tone in her voice. “An officer *and* a gentleman, this must be my lucky night.”
Sebastian grinned and took another sip of his drink. “We’ll see,” he said with a wink.
At her comment about comparing accents, he had to stop another bout of laughter from erupting. Instead, he just smiled, looking in Irene’s direction and saying, “Oh, I wouldn’t want to offend you. Honestly, it’s that bad. Can’t have you walking away hating me, can I? Besides, I’d have to had slightly more to drink before you could persuade me to put the accent on.”He looked down at his drink slightly sheepishly at her flattery. Sebastian twirled the amber liquid around, watching the foam cling to the sides of the glass. It had been a long time since anyone paid him a compliment, and was slightly out of practice at dealing with it. Jim was hardly one for praise, and the only other people he communicated with outside of Jim were Jim’s clients. The life of a sniper was a lonely one. After a few seconds he looked up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ex-Colonel, remember? I doubt I’d be allowed near any of the old army bases anytime soon.” He took another large sip of his drink, willing himself out of the thoughts about his past. He always ended up feeling morose when the subject came up, and he didn’t need that. Especially not tonight.
Placing his glass down on the bar, he lent against it, studying Irene. “So, come on. Enough about me. You know of my occupation, it’s only fair I know yours.”
Irene smiled “I’d like to think it would take a bit more than an accent to offend me, Mr. Moran.” She told him with a small laugh “But if you say it’s that bad, I’ll let it go… at least until you’ve had a few more anyway”
She could practically feel the shift in his mood after her comment, and she wondered if she should apologize for it, obviously it had hit a bit of a sore spot with him. But at least it seemed to pass, even if it was only because the focus had been shifted to her. Strictly speaking, her occupation was not something that she was supposed to discuss, she had an entire folder full of fake identities for precisely that reason.
Irene frowned, twisting a strand of hair around her finger absently. It really was only fair to tell him, and probably better to be up front about it, even if it might make things get ugly. There was a moment of silence while she stared at the wood of the bar, weighing the pros and cons of actually telling him versus fabricating something like she usually did. She took a deep breath and tipping her head back downed the rest of her drink before squaring her shoulders and meeting his eyes.
“I work for MI-5 , actually.” She said slowly, gauging his reaction.
Sebastian watched the inner battle Irene was facing silently, his gaze not wavering from her face. Although he’d asked the question, it was one he already knew the answer to. After she’d approached him enquiring about a hit, he’d run a few background checks on her. You didn’t work for Jim Moriarty without picking up a few tricks of the trade.
He supposed after he found out about her association with MI-5 he should have dropped communication, but a part of him was intrigued. Why would an MI-5 agent risk their job by hiring a hitman to take care of someone? Surely they would have their own contacts?His mind told him it was a trap; after all he was working for the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever known. And if you can’t get to the top of the food chain initially, work your way upwards. But his gut feeling said that it was something different. And Sebastian trusted his gut instinct more than anything. It had gotten him out of many deadly situations before. Which was why he had agreed to this face to face meeting. He wanted to work out this little mystery.
He watched as she seemed to make up her mind, and quickly finished her drink before turning to him. Showtime, he thought. He was intrigued as to whether she’d tell him a lie, or trust him with the truth. And when the truth was said, he had to school his expression into one of indifference to stop a small smile from gracing his lips. “Does that mean I’m going to have a dozen police officers jump me as soon as I step outside?” His lips twitched at this comment, and he picked up his drink and took a swig to regain his composure. When he put his glass down his face was a mask, not betraying any emotion. He didn’t want to let her know that he’d known all along just yet. He wanted to see how much she’d let him into before he did.
His reaction had not been what she’d expected. Yelling and possibly drawing a gun on her … well that would be closer to what she’d had in mind. But he was perfectly calm, so at least no guns, for now anyway. Irene ran a hand through her hair with a small smile.
“Police? God no. Believe it or not, *this*” she made a vague hand motion between them “has nothing to do with my job. Completely off the books, the suits down at Thames House have no idea that I’m even here. In fact…” She tilted her head thoughtfully “I’m pretty sure they think I’m at the opera with one of the boys whose background checks went well enough that I would be ‘allowed’ to go out with them”
Strictly speaking, first informing someone who kills people for money that you were a government agent, and then further telling them that you had really no hope of reinforcements should things go south was not the most terribly clever thing to do. But Sebastian Moran did seem to be a gentleman, and she was sure at the very least he would let her get a few more drinks in her system before any sort of altercation, it was the polite thing to do anyway.
“I’m here because you’re interesting, and honestly, people usually bore me to tears.” She shrugged almost coyly. “Like I said before, Mr. Moran, I’m a fan of your work. That and I’ve always had a bit of a weakness for tall men with northern accents”
Drinks with the second most dangerous man in London
Irene smiled at him, biting her bottom lip and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “My my, you’re even more charming in person than I’d expected you to be.” She said with a small laugh. Irene inclined her head slightly towards the bar stool next to her as means of an invitation for him to sit down. “I’m glad we decided to finally meet.” She told him as she crooked a finger at the bartender, beckoning him over to their end of the counter.
“Vodka tonic please, and whatever my friend would like”
Sebastian laughed, taking the offered seat. “Well, what can I say? Despite my job description, I find it’s not that hard to be polite to those not on my hit list.” He winked at her, before turning towards the approaching barman. “I’ll have a pint of Fosters, please.” As the drinks were being poured, he shifted slightly back to face her. “How long have you been living in London? I noticed your accent wasn’t English, or British for that matter,” he looked at her curiously, “That’s if you don’t mind me asking.”
Before she could answer his question, the bartender came back with the drinks. Sebastian quickly gave over a twenty pound note; stopping any attempts at paying from Irene. He thanked the bartender as he received his change, and gave Irene a smile. “Sorry, I know you wanted to pay me back for the favour I did for you, but it’s fine. Being in your company is enough.”
Irene stared at Sebastian for a moment, honestly surprised by his actions. She wasn’t used to people doing favours and not expecting one in return, but she quickly realized that the surprise must have translated to her face and she shook her head, confident smile once more returning.
“Mr. Moran, if you keep saying things like that you’re going to make me blush.” Irene laughed putting a hand lightly on his arm, before taking a sip of her drink and wrinkling her nose slightly at how strong the bartender had made it. “And as for your earlier question, I don’t mind you asking at all. I’ve lived in London on and off for a little under … Oh God, ten years? With a little bit of moving in between, but I always seem to come back. I tried to pass off as being English for a little bit, but I was told that my attempts at an English accent made me sound like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins, so I stopped that.”
Irene turned on her bar stool to completely face him, her knee lightly knocking against his in the process. “And you? Are you a native London-er?”
Sebastian noticed the look of surprise Irene gave him, but chose not to say anything; opting to take a sip of his drink instead. He grinned at her comment, before responding, “I don’t see a problem with that, Miss Adler. Besides, I’m only speaking the truth.” He took another sip of his drink, before having to cover his mouth to avoid spitting it out. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, laughing breathlessly, “but I’m sure your English accent isn’t as bad as my American one. I nearly got shot once because my employer insisted I talk to an important client in an American accent. The guy thought I was taking the piss out of him; didn’t believe me when I said that that was the best impersonation I could do.” He took a larger drink, trying to quell his laughter. Although it wasn’t funny at the time, (he’d threatened Jim with quitting because he’d been so angry; he knew he’d only ordered him to do it to show him up) Sebastian could see the funny side of it now he wasn’t in danger of having his skull blown out.
He looked up at her question, having finally stopped laughing. “I was born in London, yes,” his face took on a more serious expression, “but I’ve only returned within the past few years. I was recruited in the army for a while; reached the rank of Colonel. Even had my own regiment.” Sebastian took another drink, before continuing, “But after an unfortunate incident, I was dismissed. Came back to London after that. And here I’ve stayed.”
“All right, but you have to promise to let me pay for the next round” Irene told him with mock sternness, taking another sip of her drink, adapting to the strong taste of it. She considered herself decent at holding her liquor, but if the bartender continued to make drinks of this strength a second round would likely be enough to get her tipsy, but that was a bridge she would cross when she came to it.
“Oh, you’ll have to trust me that my English accent is … cringe worthy. It turns out that speaking with my normal one is less conspicuous then my clumsy attempts to pass as a native. But I have to admit to being more than a little curious now. Maybe we’ll have to compare fake accents at some point.” She smiled, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass. Irene rather supposed she shouldn’t find someone who killed people for a living half as charming as she was finding Sebastian to be, but she’d long suspected her sense of self preservation to be a bit lacking. She took another sip of her drink before she propped an elbow on the bar, dropping her chin into her hand.
“A Colonel, really?” Irene asked with an almost admiring tone in her voice. “An officer *and* a gentleman, this must be my lucky night.”
Sebastian grinned and took another sip of his drink. “We’ll see,” he said with a wink.
At her comment about comparing accents, he had to stop another bout of laughter from erupting. Instead, he just smiled, looking in Irene’s direction and saying, “Oh, I wouldn’t want to offend you. Honestly, it’s that bad. Can’t have you walking away hating me, can I? Besides, I’d have to had slightly more to drink before you could persuade me to put the accent on.”He looked down at his drink slightly sheepishly at her flattery. Sebastian twirled the amber liquid around, watching the foam cling to the sides of the glass. It had been a long time since anyone paid him a compliment, and was slightly out of practice at dealing with it. Jim was hardly one for praise, and the only other people he communicated with outside of Jim were Jim’s clients. The life of a sniper was a lonely one. After a few seconds he looked up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ex-Colonel, remember? I doubt I’d be allowed near any of the old army bases anytime soon.” He took another large sip of his drink, willing himself out of the thoughts about his past. He always ended up feeling morose when the subject came up, and he didn’t need that. Especially not tonight.
Placing his glass down on the bar, he lent against it, studying Irene. “So, come on. Enough about me. You know of my occupation, it’s only fair I know yours.”
Irene smiled “I’d like to think it would take a bit more than an accent to offend me, Mr. Moran.” She told him with a small laugh “But if you say it’s that bad, I’ll let it go… at least until you’ve had a few more anyway”
She could practically feel the shift in his mood after her comment, and she wondered if she should apologize for it, obviously it had hit a bit of a sore spot with him. But at least it seemed to pass, even if it was only because the focus had been shifted to her. Strictly speaking, her occupation was not something that she was supposed to discuss, she had an entire folder full of fake identities for precisely that reason.
Irene frowned, twisting a strand of hair around her finger absently. It really was only fair to tell him, and probably better to be up front about it, even if it might make things get ugly. There was a moment of silence while she stared at the wood of the bar, weighing the pros and cons of actually telling him versus fabricating something like she usually did. She took a deep breath and tipping her head back downed the rest of her drink before squaring her shoulders and meeting his eyes.
“I work for MI-5 , actually.” She said slowly, gauging his reaction.
Drinks with the second most dangerous man in London
Irene Adler perched on a bar stool in the Canbury arms, absently tracing a finger along the polished wood counter with her eyes fixed on the clock over the bartender’s shoulder. She looked somewhat out of place in the pub in her designer dress and heels, but she believed in making good first impressions on people.
Her head turned toward the sound of the pub door opening and she smiled openly at the man who entered.
“Sebastian Moran, right?” She asked, her American accent evident, but she’d give up an pretense in trying to speak like she was actually from England years ago. “Irene Adler, pleasure to finally meet you”
Sebastian ignored the looks from passers by as he walked towards the pub. His attire wasn’t what you’d expect around these parts, but he didn’t want to turn up looking too casual. He’d opted for a crisp white collared shirt, with a black tie. The temperature was quite mild, so he’d turned up the cuffs of his shirt to his elbows, hanging his suit jacket off his arm.
As he walked through the pub doors, he spotted whom he was meeting immediately and started to make his way over to where she was sitting. Sebastian stopped in front of her; leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. As he stepped back again, he gave her a warm smile, saying, “You are correct. And the pleasure is all mine, Miss Adler.”
Irene smiled at him, biting her bottom lip and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “My my, you’re even more charming in person than I’d expected you to be.” She said with a small laugh. Irene inclined her head slightly towards the bar stool next to her as means of an invitation for him to sit down. “I’m glad we decided to finally meet.” She told him as she crooked a finger at the bartender, beckoning him over to their end of the counter.
“Vodka tonic please, and whatever my friend would like”
Sebastian laughed, taking the offered seat. “Well, what can I say? Despite my job description, I find it’s not that hard to be polite to those not on my hit list.” He winked at her, before turning towards the approaching barman. “I’ll have a pint of Fosters, please.” As the drinks were being poured, he shifted slightly back to face her. “How long have you been living in London? I noticed your accent wasn’t English, or British for that matter,” he looked at her curiously, “That’s if you don’t mind me asking.”
Before she could answer his question, the bartender came back with the drinks. Sebastian quickly gave over a twenty pound note; stopping any attempts at paying from Irene. He thanked the bartender as he received his change, and gave Irene a smile. “Sorry, I know you wanted to pay me back for the favour I did for you, but it’s fine. Being in your company is enough.”
Irene stared at Sebastian for a moment, honestly surprised by his actions. She wasn’t used to people doing favours and not expecting one in return, but she quickly realized that the surprise must have translated to her face and she shook her head, confident smile once more returning.
“Mr. Moran, if you keep saying things like that you’re going to make me blush.” Irene laughed putting a hand lightly on his arm, before taking a sip of her drink and wrinkling her nose slightly at how strong the bartender had made it. “And as for your earlier question, I don’t mind you asking at all. I’ve lived in London on and off for a little under … Oh God, ten years? With a little bit of moving in between, but I always seem to come back. I tried to pass off as being English for a little bit, but I was told that my attempts at an English accent made me sound like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins, so I stopped that.”
Irene turned on her bar stool to completely face him, her knee lightly knocking against his in the process. “And you? Are you a native London-er?”
Sebastian noticed the look of surprise Irene gave him, but chose not to say anything; opting to take a sip of his drink instead. He grinned at her comment, before responding, “I don’t see a problem with that, Miss Adler. Besides, I’m only speaking the truth.” He took another sip of his drink, before having to cover his mouth to avoid spitting it out. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, laughing breathlessly, “but I’m sure your English accent isn’t as bad as my American one. I nearly got shot once because my employer insisted I talk to an important client in an American accent. The guy thought I was taking the piss out of him; didn’t believe me when I said that that was the best impersonation I could do.” He took a larger drink, trying to quell his laughter. Although it wasn’t funny at the time, (he’d threatened Jim with quitting because he’d been so angry; he knew he’d only ordered him to do it to show him up) Sebastian could see the funny side of it now he wasn’t in danger of having his skull blown out.
He looked up at her question, having finally stopped laughing. “I was born in London, yes,” his face took on a more serious expression, “but I’ve only returned within the past few years. I was recruited in the army for a while; reached the rank of Colonel. Even had my own regiment.” Sebastian took another drink, before continuing, “But after an unfortunate incident, I was dismissed. Came back to London after that. And here I’ve stayed.”
“All right, but you have to promise to let me pay for the next round” Irene told him with mock sternness, taking another sip of her drink, adapting to the strong taste of it. She considered herself decent at holding her liquor, but if the bartender continued to make drinks of this strength a second round would likely be enough to get her tipsy, but that was a bridge she would cross when she came to it.
“Oh, you’ll have to trust me that my English accent is … cringe worthy. It turns out that speaking with my normal one is less conspicuous then my clumsy attempts to pass as a native. But I have to admit to being more than a little curious now. Maybe we’ll have to compare fake accents at some point.” She smiled, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass. Irene rather supposed she shouldn’t find someone who killed people for a living half as charming as she was finding Sebastian to be, but she’d long suspected her sense of self preservation to be a bit lacking. She took another sip of her drink before she propped an elbow on the bar, dropping her chin into her hand.
“A Colonel, really?” Irene asked with an almost admiring tone in her voice. “An officer *and* a gentleman, this must be my lucky night.”
