nysalogs | [october event

Entry tags:

[october event - closed-ish]

Who: harry hart (

etiquette) & various
What: catch-all for the event!
When: first couple days after the explosion & announcement
Where: also various - institute and around town chasing questionable leads basically
Warning(s): mild violence in like one or two threads maybe

[NOTE: these are closed starters but if anyone is interested in doing something please feel free to hit me up over at

obscurial or by pm and i'd be happy to toss something up! harry is under option #1 for the event and will be trying to pick up various leads and track down shady associates.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[so, colour harry curious once he'd gotten most of the full story from eggsy regarding one alan foster. harry had found him pleasant enough, and it's no surprised he's gotten eggsy's seal of approval--particularly since he's taken to leaving little trinkets for the boy to root out of his pockets. it's a gesture that's equal measures fond and generous, one harry has to give him a little credit for, but so too does he need to discourage on some level seeing as it's not exactly gentlemanly behaviour. he'd acquiesced to eggsy that it could count as practice for his stealth and sleight of hand--if he could ever manage to pull one over on alan.

he's wearing a neatly pressed navy pinstripe suit, umbrella hooked over his arm as he decides to drop in on the institute where eggsy's given him the heads up that alan has been working at. and considering the rather...animated turn of events in the past two days, harry is curious to see if there's been any chatter on the matter.

belatedly it occurs to him he should have properly let him know he'd be dropping by, but it's a little late for that as he makes his way through the establishment until he settles on alan. clearing his throat, harry makes his presence known mildly.]

I hope I'm not intruding. Eggsy told me you might be on your way out to lunch around this hour--how would you like one on me?

[he smiles pleasantly, hopefully it's enough incentive for now.]

[ He's an easy enough man to find — the staff are only too happy to point Harry towards Bruce's usual chemistry lab, although one or two make mention that it might be a bit of a wait to talk to him. That is to say, Bruce can be unpleasant when he's very busy, although here he's just taken to long periods of prolonged ignoring everyone around him. He doesn't own the place, after all, there's limits that he can't cross. ]

[ Harry has excellent timing — Bruce has just set something to simmer. He divests himself of his coat, about to leave it over the chair and take his usual jacket to go out — food is necessary, no matter that proper meals are usually beyond him. ]

Henry. Not a problem at all.

[ His greeting is politely warm, the intense focus of his body language fades out slowly to relax. ]

If you insist. [ Which Harry isn't — Bruce opens the door and gestures for him to go first. ] I'd be delighted.

[he takes it all in, wondering idly how a man goes from private security to working in a chemistry lab like this. surely the place must be buzzing from all the recent developments in the city, between the terrorism attack and the sudden whisperings of chemical warfare. he's happy not to be underfoot and having timed this perfectly, thanks to eggsy's advice.

he moves through the door with a nod of acknowledgment of thanks, holding open the next one to repay the favour.]

I most certainly do.

[call it a way to repay him for all the treats he's left behind for eggsy, if he needs a reason for it. which he will get to eventually, but for now he lets bruce lead the way through the lab. it's not as familiar to harry even if he did make note of the exits earlier. old habits die hard and all that.]

I'm only glad I haven't intruded--I'm told things are exceptionally busy given the circumstances now, especially here.

[he sounds equal measures pensive and solemn about it, because it was an act of terrorism after all--harry had analyzed that video from every angle and knows it could have been any of them caught by the blast or the illness thereafter.]

[ At this rate they'll take turns opening the doors unless an assistant beats them to it. Bruce isn't too bothered. He leads the way without much hurry — plenty of time for them both to observe or be greeted by the others in the labs. There haven't been many visitors recently. ]

They have been. Security's tight, understandably.

[ There are guards on all the corridors. Even those that know him ask for his identification when they pass. ]

How've you doing?

[harry offers polite smiles at bruce's assumed colleagues, but he's also keeping an eye out for anything that seems suspicious. eggsy had given him a little tidbit of information that the institute itself may have even been compromised in the attack--or at least whoever's in charge of it. hopefully by the end of their lunch, harry can raise the matter with him and get his two cents as an insider, a clearly respected one at that.]

I'd hope so--though if push comes to shove, I suppose you've got the old days to fall back on.

[referring to his stint in private security, of course--hopefully he'd be able to defend himself if ever there were a worst case scenario. at the question however, harry hesitates a moment.]

Just trying to keep abreast of it all. Had a momentary scare with Eggsy--I'm not sure if he told you, but he came into direct contact with one of the victims. He was given the all clear, but--not exactly a message I wanted to receive.

[ Harry'd see tired faces, some asleep at their desks. No one is rifling through anything they shouldn't be, and the guard patrols are regular, all of them in pairs. ]

[ He knows push always comes to shoves, but he does hope it doesn't — actively. Interesting little self-examination. Bruce switches tracks, spares more than a cursory worried glance. No, he hadn't heard, but he isn't surprised the boy is running around getting into trouble. He wouldn't have needed someone he knew to be in danger, but it wouldn't have slowed him down any. ]

I'm glad to hear it. Let's hope he stays lucky.

[ They're at the front door now, a guard pulls it open for them both. ]

[those are precisely the things harry sees--he's always checking for those details as if he's on a job or worried about making a quick escape. he's clocked the guards, keeping half an interest on where they've been heading, what they seem to be looking for. everything eggsy had told him makes him even more interested in observing for anything slightly off besides exhausted techs at their desks.

still, it seems like on the surface everything is as one would expect. which is what brings him to bruce--that and eggsy, of course. harry sighs audibly at that.]

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. He's a very loyal friend and a good apprentice.

[he pulls out some sunglasses and slides them on, umbrella still in his other hand.]

Any preferences for lunch?

[ Everything on the surface looks fine — aside from the Institute's leaks, but much as that wouldn't be out of place in a conversation with Harry, it's information to be chewed on. Nobody wants to cause a panic. ]

That depends, are we going dutch?

[ He smirks, slight. ]

[any concern harry might have had about feeling like he'd been shoved into early retirement proves false rather quickly, after the explosion and the subsequent murmurs that rifle through the fugitives and the terrorist confession. harry briefly thinks about his own recent "task" on the beach--though he's fairly reassured and certain that donning a pair of tiny yachting shorts is not going to bring imminent ruin to the city.

still, there are other old habits that die hard. he was hardly the type of man to just sit back and let things unfold--often because there was no choice, only do or die out on the field. this would normally be the part where merlin would bring out his clipboard and start running a background check on the girl in the video, followed by an identification and several leads. but there's no merlin and no kingsman here--just him and eggsy, going at it old school. the boy's certainly proven himself capable of cashing in on a few tips from the royal guard as well as following up with his much wider network of friends and acquaintances.

tonight he's taken to the streets himself--following up on a promising tip and identifying what must be a low-ranking member from the group of associates. the man is practically asking to be noticed--a poorly concealed black eye suggesting someone's gotten to him before harry, a hood that keeps slipping off his unruly hair as his gaze flickers around wildly from where he's sat with a drink at one of the local haunts. but most damning is the view of his wrist harry gets when he downs his drink--a prominent "m" that no one else seems to have chanced. harry polishes off his own, waiting six seconds before standing to discreetly slip out front and around the back after the man exits in a hurry. six more seconds, and he's got them pressed face-first and scratching against the stone walls of the alley with their arm twisted under his umbrella and fingers on his free hand gripped tight around his throat.]

I'm only going to ask once more, unless you'd like me to break your wrist and every single finger on this hand.

Where are the others who attacked the city? Who's in charge?

[he sounds politely bored if nothing else--a harsh edge to his posh drawl for anyone who'd recognize it, but really this is hardly enjoyable or difficult. the man babbles out something about just trying to do a job and please, i don't know nothing else. child's play, and useless--at least until harry hears a noise and realizes someone else is in the alley.

shit. he pulls back, dropping his umbrella audibly. he's loathe to let the little bastard get away even if harry doesn't think he's got much to say anyway at this point, but it's better to take a hooked elbow against his jaw and bite down enough to draw blood from his own mouth and look like he's gotten attacked in a botched attempt at a mere robbery than called out for someone with the skills to actually interrogate. he rubs at his mouth and breathes out heavily, faking being out of breath and letting his voice take on a note of panic.]

Who's there? That man--nearly mugged me.

Edited 2017-10-06 01:19 (UTC)

[ This hunt is exhausting. Not that Peggy doesn't have the drive or stamina to do any of it; as far as assignments go, this is perhaps her easiest one. But the difficulty lies in not knowing how many members of this rogue group there are, in having to track down and catch as many as possible, with no guarantee that will stop whatever's coming next or even yield answers as to what their plans are. They haven't even got a name. But if there's anything she deals in, it's whispers and rumour, and she's good at that sort of life regardless of what planet she's on.

It's one such tip that leads her to the same pub as Harry Hart. She's inside, dressed in the local garb instead of her usual fare — no curls or lipstick, but the loose folds of the clothing conceal her pistol neatly. She doesn't think the suspect is anyone important, he's made too many careless mistakes, but she intends to follow him until he leads her to a bigger fish. That was the plan, at least, until it's thwarted. She watches the man go and she watches him followed by someone else, although from where she's seated in the room, she can't make out who it is. (Damn.) Peggy waits a few seconds of her own and slips out after the pair on silent feet.

What she hears before she rounds the alley is more impressive than what she sees. The murmur of voices isn't as distinct as she'd like, but the tone is telling: low, unhurried, sharp. She steps in and the next series of events unfolds quickly; she recognises the older gentleman almost immediately. ]

Oh, for God's sake, [ she grits out as the other man attempts to scamper past her. Peggy twists and slips her satchel off her shoulder, winding the strap around her palm just as he passes her — she swings low with the bag, aiming for the backs of his knees, and he stumbles and falls. That done, Peggy gets down, digging her knee into his back and pinning both arms to the ground; she pulls his sleeve back and, there, the symbol. Over her shoulder, ] All right there, Mr DeVere?

[ Leaning in the man beneath her, voice just as conversational, ]

Not very polite, mate. [ He jerks, struggling beneath her, and she lets him up off the ground just enough to slam him back down with her knee. More firmly, ] What did I just say?

Edited 2017-10-07 18:44 (UTC)

[he's less surprised than he would have been had he not already learned of peggy's service in the military and her subsequent appointment in the royal guard. he quickly pieces together that she must have been tracking the same man--well done indeed--and stands back to watch her work. simple, efficient, effective using the conversion of her own bag. she barely even needed to break a sweat, though her grip on him is still impressive. hopefully she didn't catch what came before, though he can think up some bollocks excuse on the fly rather easily after all this time even if so.]

Much better now, thank you Miss Carter.

[his oxfords echo through the alley as he steps forward, ready to go in again in case this clod has any ideas about trying to maneuver another mistake. he leans down a little, not able to meet the man's line of sight given how he's face-down and at risk of having his arms pulled even more uncomfortably. but that doesn't stop him from uttering a very familiar adage.]

Manners Maketh Man.

Do you know what that means?

[he wriggles under peggy's grip until she pushes him down again, this time groveling out a half-apology and half-plea to be let go. harry looks at her expectantly, and with a pleasant smirk.]

It seems I have a habit of running into you during all sorts of commotion.

[ Harry directs his query to the man currently pinned under her but she's the one who looks up at it, brows furrowed. She's heard that saying before — not that it isn't a familiar one to begin with, but not often quoted as far as she's aware. But he's the second man to say it, the first time being Eggsy at the fight club outside Olympia, and she'd almost been out of earshot for that one. Curious that two very different people (to her knowledge) would use it under rather similar circumstances.

But that's a puzzle to be sorted out later. Peggy's expression easily transforms into a pleasant smile, as if they'd encountered each other on an evening stroll and not, well. This. ]

Or perhaps we share a habit of finding trouble, if not the other way around. I'd offer you a handkerchief for your mouth, but my hands are full at the moment.

[ The fellow under her knee seems to think escape is rather unlikely, now that reinforcements have arrived. He's squirming a great deal less, at any rate. She leans in, anyway, voice light — although there's no denying the touch of steel in it, either. ]

Now I'm sure that apology was entirely sincere but I'm afraid I've no intentions of letting you up unless you answer one little thing for me. [ One manicured nail taps the M on his wrist. ] What does this stand for?

[ Except the man doesn't have any answer for her. Maybe he honestly doesn't know, maybe he's gone and branded himself without understanding what he was getting into. That's the impression she gets, anyway. This may very well be a dead end, but she's got one more trick up her sleeve if that's the case. ]

Ah, that's terribly kind of you--but fortunately I'm at least prepared for that bit of it.

[he reaches into his inner pocket and produces a small navy kerchief, though it's likely too dark for her to see the gold, encircled "k" emblem in the corner or the initials. thankfully this one doesn't have his initials embroidered on it or else he'd have to come up with a quick reasoning for "HH" instead of HDV.

harry kneels down--mostly to reach for his umbrella but also to get a closer look at the lettering on his wrist. it's not entirely unlike other criminals he's seen before--banding together and wearing a mark to symbolize their commitment together. it would be touching if it weren't for nefarious purposes. harry stands back up, exhaling as if inconvenienced because he was in having to retrieve his umbrella--but really it's because this is getting nowhere and he's growing tired of the groveling.

he hooks one end of the umbrella around the mans wrist and pulls in the opposite direction, enough for the bones of his shoulder to creak threateningly.]

The lady asked you a question, much more nicely than I would if I were quite as coordinated. I suggest you get to talking.

Edited 2017-10-11 05:16 (UTC)

[ As a woman who employs all manner of her surroundings as a weapon whenever possible, she does admire how he handles that umbrella. Simple, yet effective. She's not one for causing too much agony to a suspect, she doesn't much have a taste for the more aggressive interrogation techniques, but sometimes just a little bit of pressure applied just the right way is enough. (Although she did stick a man with a syringe full of what she described as an intense cold to make him a bit more forthcoming; easy, once he thought he was dying of something far more virulent.) ]

A dislocated shoulder is quite unpleasant, [ she tells the man beneath her. ] Is your organisation really worth all this trouble?

[ Two things happen in quick succession, neither of which she anticipates. First of all, the associate goes quite, quite still. Abruptly and limply enough that Peggy thinks he's fainted which is why she makes the mistake of lessening her weight on him, her hand loosening on his wrist. And the second thing is — well, that's a little bit harder to describe. The hairs on the back of her neck stand, like a prickle of static electricity. Suddenly, the man's hand twists under hers and grabs a hold of her wrist and sends a shock through her, like lightning.

It hurts, like an electric shock would, and she knows they're in trouble now because no one warned her that these associates would have abilities. The man takes that opportunity to throw her (and that umbrella) off him and scramble to his feet to scamper free. The second the contact breaks, the electricity is gone, and Peggy rolls to a stop against the stone wall of the alley. She's wincing as she pushes herself back up. ]

God damn it, [ she groans on hands and knees. They need to chase him down. Follow him, at least. ] Bloody hell.

[something is off--harry can feel something prickling at the back of his neck too, as if the tension in the air has been altered. like something is coming, and he steps forward to put himself between peggy and the man just a shade too late. by then he's already done something that pushes her away--not a movement or a maneuver that he can see, but harry catches his umbrella and takes a moment to offer a hand to help peggy up.

shit. he doesn't want to lose the lead, even if it might be a dead end. if he were on his own, he could use the better functions of his umbrella to send out electric wiring to wrap around the man's legs and knock him to the floor, winded and shaking off the aftershocks in only a moment. but there's no way for him to pass that off. being roughed up in an alley is one thing, a tricked out umbrella another entirely. he's got at least thirty seconds on both of them from his little stunt and harry glances at peggy for a moment before making up his mind.]

I'm going after him--I'll get a head start.

[he doesn't want to insult peggy by dwelling on whether or not she's too injured to proceed, something tells harry she'd rather catch up and push onward. he'll just use his long legs to his advantage in the meantime, dashing off down the alley and following the sound of rushed footsteps. it's not hard to close the gap, and he spares a glance over his shoulder to see if peggy is following yet.]

[ She's already waving him off. Go. He's right, she'd rather he get on with it instead of lingering at her side, she can manage. Peggy hauls herself up and her knees still feel a little shaky but she's determined to walk — no, run — that off; and so she does, bolting down the alley and out onto the street. It isn't particularly well lit but she can place where the two men have gone and she takes off after them, shedding the cloak she'd donned to blend in with the crowd in favour of a bit more speed.

She catches up easily, although the associate they're chasing is some steps ahead. The disadvantage they have here is that they're still newcomers to this city. This man most likely has grown up here his entire life or came to Olympia and had time to map out the lay of the land. But she takes note of the route they're taking, the neighbourhood, the twisting maze of streets and alleys. If they get too close, the man they're chasing fires off bolts of electricity, scorching the ground by their feet. They make it to the entertainment district — she recognises the theatres — when suddenly the man rounds some blind curve and is gone when they come to the other side. ]

Christ, [ she snaps. She'd drawn her Walther to try and shoot the man in the leg, but things had happened so quickly, there was no chance of it. What a disgrace. Not her best work by far. ] Search the area. There's got to be something we missed.

[it's certainly no car chase through the streets of london or bursting through hyde park in the middle of the night, but there's an adrenaline rush anyway as he keeps his focus trained on the tells in the man's body. which way he'll turn, if he's looking anywhere in particular. following a moving target has never been a difficult thing to do, but he is at a disadvantage by not knowing the streets like the back of his hand just yet--he hasn't had the time to, not really.

he can hear peggy catching up to them both, privately impressed and admiring of her determination and dedication to the cause. he's starting to get the idea that if she wasn't put to use during her time for something other than nursing or paperwork, she was sorely disserviced and it was very much their loss.

but there's little time to think about pleasant thoughts like that when harry finds himself jolted--quite literally--in his oxfords and nearly sprawls onto the pavement in a wipe out himself. he just barely manages to skid along the cement, long limbs waving for a few moments before he steadies himself and gets back on track. the peculiar bit is--there doesn't seem to be any actual device or mechanism he's generating the electricity from. harry's still trying to wrap his head around the colossal scale of organization this place has, let alone supposed magic users.

as he rounds the corner though, right as harry takes note of the theater building to it's a dead end. not literally, but he's just gone into thin air. harry jogs to a stop in the middle of the street, huffing out an incredulous noise.]

Oh for god's sake. They can teleport as well, then--you don't see that every day.

[he looks over at peggy, fearing the worst, which is that they've lost their lead.]

Well, shall we split up?

[none of them look particularly promising--but it's not the worst idea.]

Or is it time to commiserate over a pint?

[ She has one hand on her hip, the other hanging down with her pistol, and she's scowling at the alley. ]

I could do with a pint, but let's not give up just yet.

[ Peggy moves through the alley, light-footed in her boots, and runs a hand along the grimy walls, searching for the seam of a hidden door or — anything, really. But the fact of the matter is this city is magical, there are people who are capable of things she never dreamed, and even if she's experienced the unnatural in her own world, this is on another level altogether. Science has always explained these things to her. Science that's advanced in leaps and bounds that it may seem like magic, but...

She huffs out a breath. ]

If I were back in New York, I'd say the man disappeared into the sewers. [ She's spent some time in New York's sewage system. She's quite familiar with the twisting caverns, the storm drains. No joy here. ] I never thought I'd miss something so simple.

[ She glances over to see if Henry has found anything on his end, although she's not terribly optimistic. She's already tucking her gun away and it disappears neatly in the loose folds of her Olympian clothing. ]

Anything?

[harry's umbrella is still clutched in his hand as he takes on another one of the alleys within reach. just an awful lot of garbage, and when he lifts the lid of a dumpster, it's empty too. he huffs out a frustrated noise, wishing more than anything for the convenience of london's exceptional cctv and merlin in his ear with instructions on where to go next. not that harry's incapable of of doing the work on his own when push comes to shove, but it certainly highlights to him how thankless merlin and all the other tech staff's jobs were considering the attitudes towards them back in the day.

after a few more minutes he calls it quits himself, heading back to where peggy is standing with a shrug of his shoulders, smoothing out his jacket.]

No luck on my end either, I'm afraid.

[he lets out a small snort.]

Controlled electricity--maybe it's not so unlikely he teleported out of here.

[it's half sarcasm and half...well, consideration, actually, because "magic" (even if ros would scold him for calling it as such) appears to be a viable thing that happens here from both refugees and now apparent locals.

but harry turns back to peggy again, noting the disappearance of her gun. one would never suspect that in the folds of her nicely tailored outfit, but he supposes neither would anyone think the same of his bulletproof bespoke either. he does note her hand is bleeding a bit from where she'd fallen, and he gestures to it.]

I feel responsible for that somewhat. Why don't we sit down and get that cleaned up, and I'll buy you a pint for all your troubles?

[glossing over why he was even out here in the first place getting "mugged", but he's hoping that's not the focus anymore.]

Edited 2017-10-27 14:21 (UTC)

[ His being 'mugged' by a member of the group responsible for the marketplace bombing may not be the focus at the moment. But Peggy hasn't forgotten it and she might ask about it over that pint, if only because she can't imagine why Mr DeVere would be out at this time of night. (For all she knows, he's only a tailor. With a military background. She remembers.)

She frowns briefly when he indicates to her left hand and she holds it up to look; only then does the stinging register, the heel of her palm and wrist scraped raw by the cobblestones. Her knee is in similar shape, but she at least had a mind to leave her stockings off tonight. It's her one good nylon pair from home, she won't abide tearing them. ]

I won't say no to that. [ She's already shrugging off the rest of her disguise, folding the draped fabric over her arm. ] I know a place nearby — [ Peggy's lips twist in a wry smile, and she changes her mind. ] Actually, I'd prefer a bit more privacy than the local pubs can afford. This "M" group might be able to come and go as they please, but so can we.

[ She means the Station. They can teleport up there in an instant, and the food and drink selection at the mess hall is certainly far more varied. ]

Fancy a little trip upstairs?

Eggsy, I'm home.

[adjusting to having another person in his living space has been...a bit of trial and error for harry. most days he enjoys eggsy's company and doesn't mind the just slightly too-small flat they share and call their current home. but then there are the other days where harry is very mildly irritable by snapbacks and trainers left willy-nilly or jb sleeping on his oxfords and creasing the leather.

the former is what has him exhaling sharply in a huff, shutting and locking the door behind him to give the place a once-over--both to see what state it's in and just...because he can't be too careful. eggsy's already heard about his run-in with one of the associates before it'd been interrupted by peggy carter, but just because that one proved fruitless doesn't mean harry wants to give up. besides, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't actually been looking forward to really working alongside eggsy at some point.

still, there are reservations. eggsy's skills are impressive but he's fresh and green to what harry's been doing for thirty years. this is just as serious as any mission that could have been doled out in london--and frankly, even more dangerous considering they haven't gotten a full lay of the land just yet. one wrong move and they might end up branded as fugitives or treasonous, and considering what he's been offered to stay here--harry doesn't want it to come to that. his lips are down-turned a fraction when eggsy comes round to greet him, which may as well be a full-out frown.]

We need to talk. About keeping this place tidier, for starters. But more importantly at the moment--I believe you had an update from one of your colleagues.

[eggsy's certainly proven himself useful at gathering leads, and harry has to give him impressed credit for that.]

[ unlike every other day, jb doesn't dash to meet harry in the hall. eggsy has left him with a friend, keeping the sick company in better ways than his own fussing would. as it happens, there are trainers by the door. for a boy his age, eggsy is tidy (the marines and kingsman ensured that), but he's fussy about which hat and tie he wears — leaving the rejects of the day on various surfaces. living with harry is still... new, yes, but nice. he hasn't been able to linger in his kitchen or living room since, well, before dean, so having communal space to hang about in and chat with his mates is pretty refreshing (more mugs than usual are on the drying rack in the kitchen, signaling that eggsy has done just that, gathering information from others throughout the day). however, eggsy mostly enjoys the little things, like chatting with harry in the mornings and spreading out on the sofa.

harry calls them colleagues, but eggsy considers them friends. is that another symptom of his greenness? or is it just his bleeding heart, affecting everything from his ability to become a kingsman the traditional way to maintaining the distance required for a spy? last week, he charmed his way into a part-time job at an actual tailor shop, mainly because he knows shit-all about tailoring which ain't great for his cover. it's the most mundane, normal job he has ever had, and it doesn't suit him, but he only whinges about it every other day. at this stage, it's posh man's retail — at least it means he was well-positioned near the site of the bomb and capable of rapid reconnaissance. gives him an excuse to wear his suit, too, which bodes well for, uh, not dying from a gunshot wound. his dedication to kingsman shows in his on-the-job research, not his emotional outlook.

he leans out of the kitchen doorway in his button down and striped trousers, no oxfords or tie (the latter of which might be hung over a chair in the kitchen, on top of his jacket, oops). we need to talk doesn't sound like a warm welcome, especially when followed by a reproach for his disorderly ahbits (and eggsy knows he also abandoned a snapback on the armchair that harry normally claims, shit). a flicker of guilt passes over his face, even as he instinctively tilts his chin up in challenge. it all disappears in a second, replaced by a neutrality better-suited for pressing matters. ]

[ evenly — ] Got a few updates, yeah, if you wanna come through.

[ he swiftly ducks back into the kitchen, using the time it takes for harry to remove his oxfords and leave them neatly by the door to chuck his clutter into his adidas backpack, folding his jacket and quickly shoving his most expensive possessions ever (along with a particularly excellent, yellow snapback) into the bag with a wince. oh, for fuck's sake, he's gonna have to iron his jacket for bloody ages after that. before harry strolls in, he hangs the pack on one of the kitchen chairs and flips the kettle on.

how's that for tidy, huh. ]

[harry doesn't exactly like the tension that comes with the role of scolding parent--that's not his responsibility, and more importantly, harry is too affected by his debt to lee unwin to ever consider himself good enough or worthy of replacing that kind of hole that was left behind. lee was a good man, a wonderful father--a few private anecdotes he'd shared with harry during their twenty-four hours about what a joy eggsy had been as a baby. harry's certainly old enough to be his father and then some, but he doesn't want that. still, at least he has tactics and reasonings that make sense as both a gentleman and a spy for why eggsy needs to tidy up a bit.

which he suspects is what's just occurred while he's toed off his oxofrds at the front door before entering into the kitchen--the telltale signs of mild rummaging that he can hear given how small the little flat is, and more incriminating--the slight sway of his backpack as if it's only just been moved onto the chair. at least he's made an effort--one harry softens at just a bit.]

Seems as if you've been exceptionally busy.

[he nods towards the collection of mugs, with an approving flick of his chin and in his gaze before he slides down into the chair not currently holding the backpack.]

What's the news today?

[the city has been abuzz with rumours, harry doing his best to keep his eyes and ears sharp. he's got a promising lead for one of the associates--a low-level grunt, but it's a start. anything eggsy has to add will hopefully help them unravel this mess that much sooner.]

[ eggsy has never had someone to undertake a proper, well-meaning, paternalistic role — and he tells himself he doesn't want anyone to do so, a feat made easy by moments like this, with chiding remarks and tension over his behaviour being largely foreign before now and, uh, unenjoyable. (his troub le at home had been far more outright in london). see, learning spy tricks is fun. housekeeping, on the other hand, is bloody pushing it.

at least harry moves on quickly enough, with more urgent matters to discuss. eggsy leans against the counter, brazenly relaxed despite his haphazard efforts to clear up at the last minute. it helps that he knows his information is somewhat impressive. ]

Heard a few different things. Bellamy caught a rumour that the M ain't for any name. [ eggsy will have outlined his connections to harry a few days ago. bellamy: about eggsy's age, from a space station, possesses some kind of unofficial combat experience given his vr gig in the royal guard, often serious, not the sort to provide poor intel. ] Don't know what it signifies now, only that it "meant something to the higher ups before all this." Whatever that means. But that's not the big one — Cassie overhead some bloke who thinks the Empress and the Institute had a hand in the attack and the illness. [ he arches his brows. ] His friend was trying to get him to go to the Sanctuary, yeah? And he goes, [ definitely putting on a stupid voice. ] "That woman seduced this right out of the Institute...just like she has for everything else..." and then, "You know what she would do for the donations to her little not-so-secret —" something or other. There's been some chatter on the network 'bout similar stuff, with people saying there's a bit of the Institute that's off limits, which fits with the other rumours.

[ cassie foster: late teens, direct, clever, fast as anything, and alan foster's daughter. she won't have misheard a thing. ]

[it is impressive, and harry feels a flare of pride at watching eggsy make good use of the skills he'd known were there all along. there's a bit of bittersweetness to it, considering he never had the chance to see him really out on the field before london was laid to waste in the storm. but it's foolish to dwell on the what ifs and imagine what could have been when they're making due here. it even puts into perspective how unimportant a few extra snapbacks are around the house.

if the intel is solid, however, there's even bigger problems on the horizon. harry's brow furrows, lips pressing into a grim line for a few moments.]

What would they have to gain from mass hysteria and the manufactured virus? If it's true about the Institute--someone's going to have to get a look at what they don't want everyone else to have access to. I don't suppose any of your friends working there have any insight on that? Alan? Madame Lutece?

Dunno. [ he pulls a face, the sort of exaggerated frown he puts on when he's being particularly cynical and cheeky. ] But it ain't like the Empress gives a shit about hysteria, when she hasn't even given a speech yet. Good ol' Liz would be all over this by now.

[ queen elizabeth, he means, of ye olde, long-destroyed england. eggsy isn't a monarchist in the slightest, but the royal family had solid pr. when harry questions his other contacts, he shrugs. ]

Cassie would've known if Alan had special insight. I haven't asked the Madam yet.

[ is it still funny that her preferred address is madam? absolutely, although he's taking it easy after their will they won't they vibes made him a first-round draft pick for test subject booty calls (instead of, y'know, sexy ones) — not that he intends to mention his recent drug test to harry. call it the icing on his cake of lies or simply file it under things harry doesn't need to worry about, a few spots below dying. brushing all that aside, his eyes brighten with interest. ]

Though I think I know where to find another one of the M cohort, so maybe we could take a direct approach.

[ and ask a primary source. ]

Edited (typos!!) 2017-10-20 23:20 (UTC)

[harry sighs wistfully, thinking back to london which he misses very much in this moment. he may not have always agreed with the antiquated attitudes of the monarchy, but they were very good at playing the game of the people's favour. there's a reason they were adored and watched with anticipation worldwide. he loves his country, he's just not a fanatic about it.] Quite right. Which might imply she's running scared or absolutely has something to hide, in that case.

[he taps his chin thoughtfully, trying to mull it over. there's too many whisperings and not enough facts, and he knows they'll absolutely need to do some of their own footwork if they hope to stay abreast of the situation. he's got a promising lead of his own which he intends to pursue in the next evening or two, but for now:]

I can check in with the Madame. Been meaning to anyhow and I'll let you know what she thinks. She's a clever one--I'd trust her observations if there's anything amiss.

[he can't say much else considering how much eggsy's keeping him in the dark about his new side gig as a lab rat, and his own death. but he's got no reason to suspect anything is being kept from him at all, so he sits up and folds his hands, leaning in conspiratorially.]

Do you now.

Well done, Eggsy.

[his eyes are a mixture of hard but warm behind his glasses--focused completely on the matter at hand, but allowing some of that support and pride at his protégé leak through.]

Where are we headed, then?

Good shout.

[ checking with the madam, that is. ros' cleverness is undeniable, despite how complex her relationship with eggsy has become.

he notes the pride and warmth in harry's eyes — it's an expression that's becoming more familiar to him, the longer they stay together. just as easily, he beams back at harry, though there's an edge to his expression (with his sharp and focused eyes). he knows this is a dangerous proposition. ]

Theatre District. Really hoping to catch someone at the stage door, if ya get me?

[ very funny. ]

[harry splits into a grin. he's got his own lead to follow down at the local pub, which he'll pursue on his own since he doesn't know the level of danger just yet and he wants to figure that out before involving eggsy, but in the meantime, this was all thanks to eggsy's good follow-up and immersion among all the new refugees.]

I am overly fond of the theater, after all.

[not a lie, but apt for the situation. before he can ask about the details like the when and where, he purses his lips like he's not sure he should say what he wants to. but eventually he finds it silly to hold back, so he says it anyway in a casual tone that glosses over the layers of regret attached to all of it.]

It had been my intention to take you sometime, you know. Back in London. Good theater, opera--all as fine examples for the hobbies a gentleman may enjoy, of course.

[or just something friends do, maybe.]

Something tells me this show is going to end with a bit of a bang, on the other hand.

[if eggsy groans, harry would have no one to blame but himself.]

Yeah? [ unintentionally, the word ticks up at the end, questioning. the arts in london are yet another part of harry's world — like kingsman, the tailor shop, and his very home — that he would choose to share with eggsy. and then there's the phrasing of it all, as if going to theatre together would be a lesson. it's the same as when harry mentioned dinner, dressing it up like it would be a learning experience for eggsy.

maybe it would be enlightening, but it'd probably also just be enjoyable. the line between mentor and friend has certainly blurred considerably over the past few months. his mouth twists, curving into something privately satisfied with his own conclusions about their relationship, though he doesn't voice them.

and then the joke makes him groan. jesus, harry. ]

We could still go another time. [ he's just sayin'. casually. nbd. ] Y'know, when we ain't there just for the — [ wait for it 'cause he's about to hate himself. ] — drama.

[ zing. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[october event - closed-ish]

bruce;

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asfjkdv I'm so sorry I thought I already replied

omg it's so fine!! i was gonna ask but i know you were busy this month c:

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peggy;

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eggsy;

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