Fantasy Beasts & Burdens

[Pith]

( Thread for Pith & Sspky )

Most Esteemed Sirs,

We have not been introduced, but I had the great fortune to have your talents recommended most heartily by Mr. Andrew Forticulst, with regards to his late cousin. I find myself in need of talents beyond what I personally possess. Should you be inclined to discuss your skill sets more thoroughly in the interests of possible business, please join me for lunch at the Robin Room on Thursday, the 22nd of September, at 1:00.

Looking forward to making your acquaintance,
Dr. Elijah Walker

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~​

“What are you going to do if they don’t want to work with you?”

Elijah regarded his companion with a brief glance, then sighed dramatically. “Oh I don’t know… Die, I suppose.” The cool, continuous stare from the individual sitting adjacent to him drew a grin to his face. “Seriously, Thom, you’re going to overthink yourself into more greys. If they don’t turn up, or don’t want my money, then we find someone else! Worst comes to worse, I try it myself and really do die, and then you shall be unemployed.”

“Don’t tempt me to dream,” Thom muttered, leaning back in the seat and staring up at the ceiling.

Low lighting flickered behind red glass orbs, casting a haziness around the room. A single bright spotlight focused in at the center of the room, where a slender, humanoid automaton stood upon a dais. Its clockwork parts seemed to glitter as they gently turned under the spotlight, and from it came a distinctly inhuman but lovely singing voice. It was inlaid with red designs curving in the shape of feathers, and was accompanied by a life band tucked away in one of the darker corners.

The doctor turned his attention to the automatic entertainer for a moment, sipping idly from his water glass. The quiet little restaurant wasn’t a particular favorite of his, but Thom had suggested it, and he had to at least conceded that the private booths, low lighting, and overall generally discreet clientele was probably the best place to meet with… well, criminals. He counted himself in that number, even if most of his work was not strictly illegal, though mostly for lack of relevant laws by which he might be persecuted. Her Majesty's decency laws could probably be liberally applied, and of course breaking, entering, and stealing weren’t charges he could wiggle out of. But that was why he was in the market for at least one professional to assist him.

Elijah was every bit a young professional, from his clean-cut but fairly plain clothes to his short, combed back dirty blonde hair, wire-rim glasses giving him a slightly more mature look. He was not particularly handsome, but had bright blue eyes and a charming smile, which his patients often appreciated. His companion, by contrast, wore clothes only good enough to be allowed in the door and gave every impression of not caring for his surroundings, napkin neglected and cap still on. His hair was long, black, and curly, pulled back behind the nape of the neck, brown eyes ringed with sleeplessness.

“You should be glad,” Elijah continued. “If they agree then you don’t necessarily need to come with me from now on.”

Thom rolled his eyes, staring far past the fresco ceiling. “ ‘Necessarily’ isn’t too comforting, Doc.”

He laughed in response, and looked beyond the mechanical singer to a clock just beyond, catching the hand strike the hour.

 

[sspky]

“Would you just look at that, Bobby-boy -- they think you’re esteemed.” Fredrick Rémy had teased his silent companion.

In response, Robert Middle had simply tapped one long finger under the word ‘lunch’ and huffed.

As long as their perspective benefactor was paying, Robert would happily waste an afternoon entertaining whatever upper-crust dandy might be calling on them. Fredrick was a little more discerning. Since Robert was happy to sit silently in the background and be generally ignored, it would fall on Fredrick to make conversation and broker deals and otherwise be a presence in the room.

It was a good thing Fredrick adored the attention.

The two men entered the Robin Room at 15 minutes past the hour (fashionably late, Fred explained), and were escorted to a secluded booth by a fat little waiter in a blue vest. The shorter of the two men gestured for his companion to slide into the booth first, before following after. Clearly, they weren’t going to wait for any further invitation.

There was little in common, physically, between the two scoundrels who had so-suddenly appeared at the booth.

The shorter of the two was well dressed, in a slate-gray frock coat and a neat black vest, overtop of a crisp white dress shirt. His trousers were pressed, his shoes polished to a sheen and his jet black hair was shaved short on the sides, the top longer and slicked back. He was a sharp man with a sharp face; long nose, pointed chin, high cheekbones, and a pair of intelligent gray eyes that seemed to glisten with something predatory and cold.

In contrast, the taller man was wiry and thin, his brown wool vest looking a little loose and threadbare. He had a certain awkwardness about him as if he were in a permanent state of discomfort. His copper-brown hair was neatly cut and parted to the left, his square face was clean-shaven, and his deep brown eyes were shifty and observant. Curiously, he wore a faded red neckerchief that concealed his throat entirely.

“Dr. Walker, I take it. And?” the shorter of the two looked from the well-dressed man to his presumed assistant, a wry smile on his thin lips.

 

[Pith]

The approach of the two men had been noted by Thom a few seconds in advance, but he’d made no effort to give the doctor any warning, concentrating instead on what might generously be considered a large aperitif. He’d known his employer wasn’t one to expect punctuality, but he’d given the men exactly three minutes past the hour before flagging down a server for a gin and tonic.

Elijah had continued to talk at him without a need for response, mostly thinking aloud his schedule and tasks for the next few days. It was helpful for him to say it aloud, apparently, and though he didn’t expect conversation, Thom found it beneficial to have the knowledge so he had at least some vague idea of what to look forward to.

The appearance of the two men brought a smile to Elijah’s face, expression brightening unmistakably as he gave them a brief, initial once-over. “I am! Hopefully making you Misters Rémy and Middle.” At the query he gestured vaguely to the man in question. “This is Thom. He’s a sort of jack-of-all-assistants for me, and he mans the office when I’m working.”

Thom nodded in response to his introduction, still nursing his gin, but expression focused. The shorter man looked like he belonged in the slightly upscale restaurant more than anyone at the table. Dr. Walker had a tendency to dress appropriately as an after-thought, and thus ended up wearing the same thing to the office as a business meeting. But the smaller man was all angles and something calculated. The taller man had an impression that wasn’t so much forgettable as it was insubstantive. It seemed as though he would be easy to lose in a crowd, somehow.

Elijah’s appraisal of the two was as open and clear as a child’s reading primer--he looked each of them up and down in turn, still looking for all the world pleased as though meeting with old friends. Nodding to himself, he clasped his hands in front of him on the table. “So glad you were able to make it. As you can see, he started lunch without us, but please feel free to order at your leisure.”

The lunch menu had been left on each of their plates, specials and recommended beverages outlined.

“I saved the bread,” Thom replied, the defense in his tone clearly put on as he scooted over a small basket piled high with various rolls, pats of butter molded into the shape of roses resting on a small bed of shaved ice.

 

[sspky]

“Please, call me Fredrick.” the shorter man replied, before gesturing to his companion, “And that’s one Robert Middle.”

Robert nodded in greeting, his expression edging on disinterested. He wasn’t the sort of man who belonged in a place like the Robin Room. He wasn’t the sort of man who belonged much of anywhere at all. The ability to go unnoticed was a virtue in his line of work, and it had certain fringe benefits to his day to day life that he quite valued; namely that he normally went unmolested by strangers in just about every environment.

Beside him, Fredrick gave the menu a brief scan, before flagging down a passing waiter.

When the waiter arrived, he said: “My friend here will take the game pie. I’ll have the lamb tongue and a glass a merlot.”

Meanwhile, bird-like and edgy, Robert picked at one of the offered bread rolls, his attention quickly drifting from the trio at the table to the automation on the nearby podium. It was a lovely thing and he longed to peek inside of it. He could break each component down to spring and gear and reassemble it into any sort of marvellous thing. There was an art to mechanicals that his companion would never understand. While he found satisfaction in tinkering, Fredrick preferred a more organic canvas to work with. What Robert could make and unmake with clockwork components, Fredrick would do with flesh and a very sharp knife.

Speaking of Fredrick, the man had hooked the doctor with a steady gaze, his expression one of controlled politeness. He seemed to pay little attention at all to Thom, apparently deeming him more or less unimportant.

“Well, this is a fine establishment, isn’t it?” he said, his casual tone at odds with the intense edge in his stare, “I can’t say I’ve been here before, myself, but I know the man who owns it is...a rather versatile businessman.”

There was one thing the two men did have in common, though it would take a keen eye to notice it between Robert’s frenetic shifting and Fredrick’s cool relaxation; both men were missing the first knuckle of their left ring fingers.

 

[Pith]

“Fredrick it is, then--a very great pleasure. As with you, Mr. Middle.”

The doctor seemed to genuinely mean that, and further observation of the pair seemed to help the good mood settle in him like something polite turned genuine.

When looked to for his order by the waiter, Elijah ordered the kedgeree and a glass of Sauvignon, while Thom simply held up his glass in silent request for a refill. He’d snagged a few of the bread rolls onto one of those little plates he just felt were there to get in the way earlier, and could get something more to his tastes after they left.

Thom was used to being ignored by Dr. Walker’s patients, or coworkers, or his et ceteras, and it suited him just fine. The less attention they paid to him the easier it was to keep an eye on things without appearing too engaged, and aggravating anyone’s sensibilities. He wasn’t overly concerned with the men at the table, at least not in a way that made him feel as though he had to pay close attention to the proceedings. They were hitmen, or robbers, or whatever else the doctor had gotten into his head he would need in order to work on his little projects, so their motivations were more or less going to be on the table, and predictable at that.

Elijah, meanwhile, sat in the lines of Fredrick’s stare in a state of reasonable comfort, his returning expression less intense, perhaps, but no less fixated. On the smaller man he had noted the missing digit, though he didn’t pay it overly much mind. After all, the man was presumably engaged in dangerous business quite regularly, and there were often casualties. A portion of finger was, by all means, a minor price to pay.

“Is he now?” he asked, brows raised in consideration. “You’re more aware than myself, then, I haven’t heard a thing… Am I missing out on interesting opportunities?”

 

[sspky]

“Oh, of that I don’t doubt,” Fredrick agreed easily, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to get a read on the doctor. The fellow certainly seemed polite and well put together, but then a lot of their more socially acceptable clientele liked to put on the airs of propriety -- at least in public. If this man was interested in Fredrick and Robert’s unique services, then he was certainly accustomed to the seedier underbelly with which vermin like them thrived.

While Fredrick considered himself a good judge of character, he tended to unconsciously assume the worst of people.

He’s projecting, Robert would think whenever Fredrick’s pessimistic nature became too obvious, he assumes they’re all as proper venomous as he is.

“Can’t imagine a man like yourself would have much need for that sort of opportunity, anyway,” he said, “Private practice, right? Business like that must keep you in a comfortable state, especially these days.”

Between the swelling population of the downtrodden and impoverished festering in the undercity, and the growing miasma of airborne filth that spewed out of the city’s overly industrialized eastern quarters, there were no shortages of injury and illness to be treated. Granted, Fredrick supposed this clean-cut, bespectacled doctor wasn’t the sort to waste his time on those sorts of patients. Fredrick certainly wouldn’t, if he were in his position.

 

[Pith]

Fredrick’s assessment was quite correct. Elijah had worked, for a time, in a public hospital, and though he wouldn’t have called it the most fulfilling of engagements, he did at least pass his time with things along his areas of interest. Day in and out, everyone from the dregs of London’s human waste to the lords in their manors would hasten to the trained physicians of Her Majesty’s hospital, seeking to circumvent death, disease, or disablement.

The body was a fascinating marvel--the slightest injuries or abnormal occurrences in the right places could render a human life utterly detestable, a state only fit to lament the continuation of living. And sometimes, if fate intervened with a pair of skilled hands, the card of devastation Fate dealt could be rebuked. For a while, it had sufficed. Time on the front, attending to the sick and dying in more extreme conditions, had opened up possibilities.

Elijah liked to consider himself a proper, normal gentleman, simply with a few socially unacceptable hobbies. He was aware that, given the adequate variables, he could become quite… transfixed. There had been more than one instance where Thom had been forced to bodily remove him from a lab and into a bed, when lack of sleep had rendered him rude at best, somewhat manic and violent towards the other end. But none of this meant he wasn’t capable of purporting himself correctly in public, like any citizen.

With a suitably interesting enough body in front of him, Fredrick might have seen more of what he was looking for.

That they’d looked into him was of little surprise. In fact, had they turned up completely uninformed he would have been disappointed, having signed his name and everything to no avail, but they had spared him that disappointment.

“Oh, yes, certainly--but one can still be comfortable and listless,” he said with a sigh, thinking back to the pile of petitions for his services on his desk. “I have my own field of study I wish to pursue, and in this case I feel my medical colleagues would be less than useful.”

 

[sspky]

“Do you, now?” Fredrick asked, the corners of his lips turning up in a slight smile, “Can’t imagine what sort of business would be outside the capabilities of a few good doctors.”

He sensed that the subject of their prospective employment would be making itself apparent very quickly, and with impeccable timing, the fat waiter appeared again, this time with a tray of drinks in hand. Robert shot his companion a quick, disapproving look when he noticed the glass of merlot, equal parts pensive that the notoriously mean drunk was imbibing, and annoyed that he’d failed to order something for himself.

If Fredrick noticed the look, he didn’t respond.

As Fredrick swirled the wine glass idly, Robert let his attention drift back to the table. The two men hardly seemed unusual to him. The doctor was a professional-looking gentleman, and the chap next to him seem steady enough. He glanced at the manservant across from him, wondering if he wore any cufflinks worth stealing. A watch, perhaps?

No. Fredrick would beat him within an inch of his life if he managed to upset a prospective employer.

 

[Pith]

Elijah laughed, drawing a hand briefly to his mouth to cover the sound that escaped at the comment while their drinks were served. “Oh, for good doctors, there’s a great deal beyond their capacity.”

While occupied with his own drink, Thom caught the look thrown in the direction of the smaller man, which struck him as curious. Did the taller man--Middle?--not care for liquor? Or was his companion seen as less professional, somehow, for drinking on the job? If that was the case he certainly wouldn’t be regarding him with any professional respect, if that had ever been in the cards at all, but so be it.

Thom had little on him worth stealing, though the glint of a badly cared for pocket watch chain could be glanced at his breast pocket, the hook attached to one of the button loops. The coppery metal was that of an old military issue. More valuable, perhaps, was the pistol in his inner pocket, or the well-made work boots he wore, easily the finest item he possessed.

When he caught the look being shot from across the table he paused and raised an eyebrow before reaching into his pocket and extracting a flask, proffering it silently. The doctor didn’t like him to drink his own stash in nice places, but Middle wasn’t him, and he didn’t like the unclear appraisal.

The offer went uncommented upon, if not unnoticed, as Elijah continued. “But I doubt you are sincerely lacking in imagination. Tell me, what are some of the more dangerous things you’ve dealt with?”

 

[sspky]

It was Fredrick’s turn to laugh. The sound was almost biting, his eyes reflecting none of the humour in his smile.

Although Fredrick could be inclined to talk shop in the right company, he knew better than to discuss the details of his profession with a near-stranger, a prospective employer he may be. He wasn’t about to say anything that might incriminate himself should the doctor’s motives be less than transparent.

“What a question to ask, Dr. Walker,” he replied coolly, “If you’ve sought us out, I imagine you’ve a fairly decent idea of what, exactly, my associate and I are capable of.”

Beside him, Robert shifted. His dark eyes regarded the doctor a moment before his attention turned back to the assistant. He’d disliked the direct question as much as Fedrick had, though he placed his trust firmly on his partner to navigate the conversation. In some ways, Robert was glad for his affliction. Before he’d lost his voice, Fredrick would torment him endlessly about the terribly awkward and embarrassing things he’d managed to say in public.

‘I’ll cut your tongue out one of these days, you don’t stop making a fool of me.’ the shorter man would say. In the end, Fredrick hadn’t needed to dirty his hands at all.

He’d noticed the silver chain of a pocket watch on the manservant’s breast, and made a fidgetting motion with his left hand. Wherever his mind had wandered off to, he was brought back down to reality when the stranger offered him the small flask.

In truth, he had no idea how to react to that, and the faintest look of panic flashed briefly across his eyes. The stub of his ring finger tap-tapped on the table a moment before he awkwardly accepted the flask. Fredrick would groan about it later, he was sure. After all, there must have been some reason the man hadn’t ordered him anything. But Robert was tired of the man’s head-games. Let them fight about it later. For now, he’d do whatever he could to pass the time before this dreadful affair was over with.

 

[Pith]

Something more instinctive than intelligent shifted in Elijah at the cold, thoroughly unamused laughter from Fredrick, tugging at the corners of his mouth even so slightly wider. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind the man could remove and arrange his organs more neatly than a medical textbook, and for some reason he found that reassuring.

“Oh, I’ve garnered a story here and there from clients of my own,” the doctor agreed. “As I mentioned in my letter, Mr. Forticulst was quite pleased with your work, as was Ms. Marianne Trust. And it did all sound very impressively executed.”

Thom wanted to groan, partly because he was certain the wording just then was deliberate, and partly because sometimes Dr. Walker just didn’t know how these things went. You weren’t supposed to arrange a meeting with dangerous people and then just talk about it, like it was the bloody weather and you weren’t sitting in a public restaurant. Someone more poetic might have described the whole thing as a sort of dance, staying careful, calculated distance from each other while working towards the same goal.

In his mind, it was just the common sense of staying alive, not aggravating people who you were literally propositioning for violence.

‘I have no time, Thom--we’re all dying as we stand.’

For a man only in his 30’s, sometimes he had all the patience of a petulant child.

The knock on the table caught his attention for a half-second, but like the doctor, he did not think much of the diminished digit. Thom was grateful to Robert for accepting the flask, though. It allowed him the chance to breathe deeply before sitting back against the booth, and let the doctor blunder amiably as he so often did.

Elijah continued to hold Fredrick’s stare, ignoring his own glass of wine. “I’d hate to have to interview more than once, you see. But you’re confident, so I suppose I should be asking if there’s anything I ought to know about your… business policies.”

 

[sspky]

A fond smile crossed over Robert’s lips at the mention of Ms. Trust. He’d liked that case. The woman who’d been extorting her had turned out to be a witch, of sorts. Fredrick had bashed her head in with an iron fire poker, before burning her to ashes in a hearth. Robert had tried to stop that last bit. They both knew bodies took great heat and a good deal of time to properly burn, and the smell of it would attract the neighbours for blocks around.

But oh, how she’d burnt. She’d burnt like a bundle of dried grass, all crackling sparks and tufts of thick ash. She’d burnt like an old book, the pages of her peeling away in the heat until nothing had been left of her but bits of teeth. And the colours of that fire - the blues and pinks that swirled in the hearth. He remembered how enthralled Fredrick had been at the sight of it; as if he’d never seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

Robert still had those teeth somewhere, squirrelled away in the tiny apartment they shared near the river.

He took a stiff drink from the flask and tuned into whatever Fredrick was currently on about.

Specifically, the gray-eyed man had been saying, “There’s a flat rate before every job and a fee that scales depending on the work. Robert and I go together, so you’re covering the expenses for both of us, even if one of us might not be as...relevant as the other on a specific case. We avoid politics whenever possible, and we’ll have nothing to do with Her Majesties Secret Service, if at all possible.” he paused, “We’ll...investigate just about any other matter that might concern you.”

 

[Pith]

“Hm. I suppose that seems reasonable...”

Elijah could see why some would find the idea of paying two for the work of one a little much to financially burden, but it made sense to pay for a certain amount of security. While paying for a service, the person being paid was, in a way, an extension of the desired asset. Losing said extension, on top of not getting the desired outcome and losing the down payment, was an event he did not want to be confronted with.

Glancing to his side, finally breaking eye-contact with Fredrick, the doctor elbowed his companion lightly in the side. “What do you think?”

A fair bit bulkier than the doctor, the gesture did little more than jostle Thom’s drink a bit, but he shot him a glance before turning the corner of his eye to the other side of the table, looking between the two. What he actually thought was that the doctor should stick to his regular antics, even the weird ones, without escalating the nature of his work.

In the last couple months Dr. Walker had cut down his number of clients by nearly a fourth, pouring more and more time into research and theorizing about possible procedures he might be able to conduct, given the right ‘materials’. He hadn’t dropped requests from the local hospital entirely, but every day queries came from the gentry--well paying jobs, difficult jobs even--that he passed on. The financial hit wasn’t devastating, and people could appreciate a surgeon dedicating himself to research, but Thom doubted in his ability to not overindulge, given the chance.

“ ...seems standard,” he said quietly. “...doc was wondering about joining in on some of the ‘investigations’. You good with that?”

Elijah waved a hand. “That would be a bit further down the road. Initial work I’d leave solely to your professional discretion.”

 

[sspky]

With the eye contact finally broken, Fredrick relaxed back into his seat a little, his brow furrowed for a moment in silent consideration. He traced over what he knew of their likely employer: he was a reasonably young doctor with the sort of questionable side project that would alienate him from his contemporaries at the hospital, but which apparently would benefit from a pair of ‘private investigators’ with a reputation for handling certain more esoteric cases.

Research into the paranormal was not exactly unusual, although it was apparently seen a little passe in their current ‘age of enlightenment’. While Fredrick was well-versed in the supernatural, he was an absolute stranger to academia. He was aware of the deep interest Her Majesty’s Secret Service apparently had in the subject. Ah, and then there was the Chruch - another force the two rogues had no interest in crossing - and their fixation on ridding the world of those evil and ungodly things that festered beneath the cities skin.

This doctor didn’t seem the sort to ally himself with the clergy or the operatives of the Crown. If Fredrick were to brave a guess, he’d say this doctor didn’t likely align himself to any greater organization. Hense, Fredrick supposed, his desire to seek out two known criminals.

Fredrick drank a little deeply of his wine and shut his eyes a moment. The flavour rolled across his tongue, and he thought to himself that he’d very much like to get very drunk tonight.

When Thom spoke, he opened his pale eyes and threw the man a disinterested glance. It seemed they had the assistant’s approval. Grand. Then perhaps their business was in order and he and his merry mute could be on their way.

The waiter returned then, and placed a bowl of stew in front of him, before passing a plated meat pie along to his companion.

Beside him, Robert made a disgruntled little noise. Fredrick ignored him entirely, saying instead, “We’re no stranger to playing bodyguard, doctor. If it’s an escort you need, we can provide, although the cost may be considerably steeper if you expect us to...educate you on the specifics of our investigative process.”

God damn, did Fredrick not want to protect some ‘do not harm’ greenhorn against whatever crawling, cosmic entities they were expected to track down and, presumably, destroy, but for the right price, he would bite back his apprehension and do his best not to get the man butchered.

 

[Pith]

The warning earned another chuckle from the doctor, who was already placing his napkin across his lap, steaming dish of curried rice and fish wafting its fragrance into the air. "I'm always happy of an education, though I think perhaps in this case you won't need to trouble yourself overly much."

The spike in price for difficulty, however, he expected would be along sooner rather than later, should he join the men on their excursion. Still, that was a conversation for another time. Whatever their price, he was certain he could afford it.

"But! Splendid. I don’t suppose you have regular access to a telephone, do you?”

The device was not a common installment in the average household, though Dr. Walker really had no sort of clue what sort of accommodations in which the pair spent their time. The means by which he had sent them his invitation could have easily been some false address, meant to deter detection, but he’d lept on installing one as soon as he’d heard switchboards were improving the experience.

Thom had helped himself to another roll but held silent, content to back away from the conversation once again. His opinion really had no place at the table, he was just the face likely to be passing off money or letters to the two gentlemen across from him, during times the doctor was otherwise occupied. His gaze fell on Robert, wondering what held the man’s tongue in the proceedings, despite having at least some opinions and presumably being an equal partner to the sharp man.

Elijah continued, stabbing his fork into a bit of boiled egg. “No matter if I have to keep sending letters, but I anticipate looking to engage your services sooner rather than later, and during the day I’m usually elbows-deep in patients.”

 

[sspky]

Something about the thought of the doctor being elbow-deep in a body, living or otherwise, brought a grin to Fredrick’s face. He’d always imagined that a surgeon must have a very satisfying profession. While Fredrick had no real interest in saving lives, he could certainly admire the skill the went into mending damaged flesh.

He’d been stitched up on numerous occasions (usually by the steady-handed Robert), so he was familiar enough with the meat that made up his own fine form. Sadly, Robert only very rarely let him return the favour, opting to see to his own wounds for as long he was capable.

“A telephone? No, we’ve nothing like that,” he replied between a mouthful of stew. There was one such device in the lobby of their building. He’d used it on occasion to make outgoing calls, but he had no idea what information he would provide to allow for incoming communications. Robert might know. Robert had a head for that sort of thing.

“You’d be better off sending letters, or a runner.” he continued, “Robert here won’t make much use of a telephone, anyway, and he tends to handle that sort of thing.”

‘Because you’re half-literate and manic’, Robert thought. He was picking away at his pie with steady determination, his plate already half-cleared, when he caught Thoms stare. He shot the man a look that, while not aggressive, seemed almost challenging. If the servant expected him to share his meal as the flask had been shared, he would be sorely disappointed.

The flask in question had already been slipped into Robert’s pocket.

 

[Pith]

Thom wasn't quite certain what the look on Robert's face was about, but he wasn't about to start anything in the middle of a place where his boss was having a business lunch, so he simply raised a quizzical brow before turning his attention back to the floor. It felt like a paranoid thing to pay attention to, but he couldn't deny he recognized faces in the other booths, and at the tables, so there was just as good a chance someone else recognized the doctor.

He'd noted the disappearance of the flask, but he wasn't about to comment on it. Give a thief something, expect not to get it back--it wasn't a hard concept to come to peace with.

For perhaps the first time since the pair had taken their seats, the doctor turned his full attention to Robert. It was easier, really, to pay attention to Fredrick--not only because he was the one who did all the talking, but because he was the one who seemed to want to be there. It was easy to ignore someone who didn't want to be seen, but now he smiled, knowing the point-person he was likely to be dealing with by proxy.

"Ah, I see. You can expect Thom soon, I imagine, with your fee and details," Elijah said with a shrug, draining his wine and catching the eye of the sommelier, who left the floor in search of refills.

He'd wanted to bring details with him to the meeting, but Thom had made him put the envelope aware before they'd departed, insisting that carrying around such details to an initial meeting was poor form, and after some debate he'd acquiesced. The man knew more about these sorts of dealings than he did, after all, and he was occasionally capable of deferring to the judgement of another. Although it was only a simple fetch job, a basic task of retrieving something with minimal chance of violent encounter, the man had insisted he still exercise a little caution and determine the amiability of the hirees in the first place. Elijah was glad he'd listened.

 

[sspky]

While Elijah turned his attention to Robert, Fredrick focused again on the good doctor. He traced over the contours of the mans polite face and thought back to what Dr. Walker had said about his alleged comfort on the matter of their unsavoury expeditions and wondered if this confidence was born from experience or arrogance. If Elijah truly could handle himself in the face of the otherworldly, then Fredrick would have far fewer objections to him tagging along on a few of their cases.

Fredrick had to admit that he was growing idly curious.

Meanwhile, Robert responded to Elijah’s comment with a curt nod. The previous letter had been sent to the lobby of their apartment complex. It would take Thom some energy to find their exact unit number, though Robert knew that the drunken landlord’s son, who acted as concierge and building handyman, would part with the information for a nominal fee, should the manservant need to speak with them face to face.

Neither of the two rogues could be bothered to really hide their whereabouts. If someone wanted to find the then, through mortal means or mysticism, they would. Hiding took time and energy, and while the two had safe-houses littered about the city, they spent most of their in plain site, denying any and all culpability.

“Are you a London-born local, Doctor?” Fredrick asked with casual ease, while Robert stiffened a little beside him. Fredrick could sense that his silent companion was eager to leave, and so he prolonged the visit out of pure spite. If the good doctor was going to continue to provide refreshments, then he would be remiss to deny his generosity.

 

[Pith]

The doctor wondered to himself what Robert’s aversion to talking was about. He’d met reserved men in his time, but he hadn’t heard more than a grunt the entire meeting, and even his own assistant could be more forthcoming with his words. Pale blue eyes flicked, briefly, to the red neckerchief at the taller man’s throat, easily the thing that stood out the most visually about him, but Fredrick’s inquiry moved his attention back.

“Not born, I’m afraid, but raised entirely. I believe my family moved us from Liverpool before I was even walking.”

Prior to opening his own clinic, Elijah had operated out of the Westminster Hospital. Back in those early days he’d barely found himself with enough time to sleep, let alone tolerate a lengthy travel to a proper bed, so he had taken a room at a nearby boarding house for professional young men. It was located just off the hospital by a few 10 minute walk, handled things like meals which he had no patience for, and allowed that his rare leisure time was in the company of like-minded individuals.

“Minus a brief stint out on the western front, I can’t say I’ve even traveled terribly often away from it. And yourself?”

 

[sspky]

Ah, so the doctor had seen the battlefield. Fredrick found the thought of that intensely appealing, his perspective of the man shifting to something a little more favourable. Had he the stomach for authority, Fredrick imagined he’d thrive in a wartime situation. There was an odd romance to the idea -- of blood and gunpowder and screaming conquest.

“London born and bred,” he replied, “Grew up around Whitechapel, mostly. Haven’t had much reason to leave.”

Neither of the two men had set foot outside of the city, but both had travelled extensively within its borders. They knew the back streets and secret tunnels as surely as a man like Elijah must know the pages of Gray’s Anatomy.

Robert had been discomforted by the doctor’s prolonged attention and was thankful Fredrick had drawn the conversation back towards himself. Having quickly finished what had remained of his pie, he had nothing to keep his occupied and once again began to fidget restlessly.

 

[Pith]

The war hadn't been something Elijah had felt in his blood, no excessive feelings for Queen and country, nor did he have much an interest in the sheer mindless violence of it all, but he had no objections to answering the call, especially considering his medical schooling had been publicly funded. And once he was there, in the thick of the dust and the sounds of gunfire, and the smell of earth and gore, he'd found it a very valuable experience.

It had been where he'd first met Thom, half his guts hanging out, though they'd reconnected much later.

"I had a cousin who lived in Whitechapel," Elijah said brightly between a few more bites of kedgeree, giving a brief thank you to the waiter who wordlessly refilled the beverages. "It certainly seems like an area where there's always a great deal going on."

Poverty was going on, mostly, and all the downsides that came along with it--disease, crime, and a wide variety of unnecessary death. It was rare a week went by without at least some footnote in the papers about the neighborhood, and its population continued to swell as more and more people immigrated into the city or simply failed to rise above their financial circumstances.

Thom picked up the fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, but didn't turn to look, keeping his visual focus on the restaurant patrons. He could relate to the unease, and the desire to depart, but in his case the gin did a great deal to quiet the nerves.

 

[sspky]

“Always business to be had in that burrow,” Fredrick agreed. Their work led them to just about every district of the city, certainly, but if they were ever in need of a quick boost to their finances, there was always a job to be found among the squabbling factions that festered in the slums.

Fredrick felt a sharp knee connect with his own. He didn’t so much as flinch, but he did cast a sidelong glance towards his partner. It seemed Robert had just about reached the end of his tether. Fredrick knew if they lingered any longer, the man would mope about in a foul mood for the rest of the day.

Fine. Fine. They’d had their lunch, and it seemed the job was all but sorted. If Robert wanted to flee this place, so be it. Fredrick could be kind to him, on occasion.

His own lunch was only half-eaten. Fredrick offered his partner a sham of a warm smile and slid the bowl towards Robert, whose brow furrowed at the chunks of pale tongue poking out of the gravy.

‘You miserable bastard,’ Robert thought, his icy glair speaking his opinion on the offer loudly enough.

Had Fredrick the appropriate audience to share the joke, he’d of been howling with laughter at the mute’s expense. Instead, he simply flashed the man a wicked grin and said, “No? Fair enough. Hate to waste it. But let’s be off.”

As he slid from the booth, Fredrick cast the doctor another appraising look and said, “The day is still young, gentlemen, and my partner and I have business to attend.”

Robert stumbled out after him, with exactly none of his associate’s smooth grace.

 

[Pith]

“Of course.” Elijah made no move to stand as the two leave, or offer a hand to shake, but bid them a simple wave as he paused in his consumption. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

Thom watched the pair as take their leave of the Robin Room,following the line of movement up the stairs, around the corner and, presumably, off to better things. It didn’t make him relax so much as give him the chance to look around to see if anyone else was obviously acquainted with the two men and their work. But all he saw were faces engrossed in their own conversations and food, laughing quietly in their own private corners.

The doctor’s voice shook him from his thoughts. “So?”

“...so, what?” Thom asked, starting in on his second refill and another roll, taking the time to actually apply some butter.

“Thoughts?”

“...I wouldn’t let the tall one in your office.”

Elijah grinned. “You think we might end up missing more than just a flask?”

The bigger man shrugged. “There’s a lot of shiny shit in there.” Of course, it was unreasonable to think they would never set foot into the tidy, well-furnished Chelsea office building, with its scattered displays of instruments and remains. The doctor seemed quite pleased with the meeting, and Thom had no doubt he would make good on his word and send him calling to have them retrieve a book, or some mummified remains, or whatever else had been on his list of desired oddities.

Elijah was content to finish his lunch at a leisurely pace before they took their own leave, walking most of the not inconsiderable distance back. He had no appointments until the following morning, which would allow him ample time to select a lead suitable to see how efficient the pair worked, and all things considered, it was a lovely afternoon for London. A brief rain had passed while they dined, leaving the air humid in the cloud-filtered sun.

Three days later, Thom knocked at the Whitechapel apartment door, bearing somewhat changed plans. The man downstairs, smelling of sweat and in a mood Thom was only too familiar with, had been easy enough to persuade to part with the relevant information. He had instructions to give them the request directly, no matter if they were out or how long he might have to wait.

 

[sspky]

(( FYI parallel universe steampunk London now has a super elaborate and confusing above- and below-ground commuter train system. The above-ground bits are often elevated above street level ala Chicago and New York because I MAKE IT SO. Oh, and there’s both horse-drawn cabbies and noisy steam-powered cabbies. ))

Offering the gentleman a slightly dramatic bow, Fredrick said, “I look forward to it,”

And with that, they were gone.

Their journey across the city would take them the better part of two hours and Fredrick, having pulled Robert into a shady pub for a stiff drink and a bottle of whiskey, would be well on his way to a proper stupor by the time they arrived at the six-story brick complex they called home. They’d have made it quicker had they summoned a cabby, but both men preferred the claustrophobic clutter of the train. Robert pocketed three wallets, two wristwatches, and a golden ring. He only remembered grabbing two of the wallets and the ring, however. The other items he’d taken as naturally as breathing, and forgot about as soon as the deed had been done.

When they arrived, they took the shuddering elevator up to the fourth floor and entered their small apartment. Immediately, Fredrick was on Robert, wrestling him to the floor, where he beat him about the head and neck while laughing and shouting about everything from their new work and how delightful he’d found the good doctor, to how badly he’d wanted to knife that waiter for the way he’d been watching them as they left, until Robert, growing tired of indulging him, delivered a swift punch to his gut that left him reeling.

While Fredrick dry-heaved on the floor, Robert sequestered himself away in the makeshift office that took up much of their common room. A strange clockwork contraption occupied most of the work desk, and Robert sat in front of it, his hands busily probing away at its delicate insides.

Over the next few days, Robert remained in much the same state. He busied himself in his hobby while Fredrick came and went as he pleased. The shorter man visited pubs and sought out whores and gambled away whatever valuables Robert had absconded with on the train. Whenever he’d return, he’d distract his companion long enough to remind him to eat and sleep. Otherwise, he left the man to his own devices.

On Sunday, when Thom arrived at their door, Fredrick was out. Robert almost didn’t hear the knocking at first. An old gramophone was playing something Austrian, the sound wobbly and hoarse. Biting his lower lip, Robert removed his magnified gem-smiths glasses, letting them hang from a chain about his neck, and pushed away from his desk.

When he opened the door he seemed to be in much of the same state as he had been in three days ago. At some point, he’d changed into fresh clothes, but his hair was a mess and looked owlish and tired. In his left hand, he held a note pad and pen.

 

[Pith]

(( je'adore. i need to quick consume some steampunk media since it's been so long since I've had the genre in my diet, I think I need help recalling the flavor ))

Thom didn’t peer inside when the door was opened. He didn’t consider himself to be a terribly nosy person, though he did note the music was louder, and indeed coming from within, so he was a bit surprised in the selection. Mostly he was grateful for an almost immediate answer, since it meant he wouldn’t need to linger in the hallway for unknown periods of time, studiously ignoring doors that were definitely not cracked open to see who was poking about.

“Hey.”

The pen and paper were noted immediately, but mostly out of a habit of checking hands for a weapon, and he didn’t think too much of it. Coupled with the spectacles, the man could be working on anything inside. None of his business. Plus it made it only marginally less likely for said hands to wander, though he’d taken care not to have anything extra on him in this particular neighborhood. Even the satchel resting at his hip under his arm, strap firmly across his chest, had thick leather and locks.

“Doc has a job that needs doing pretty fast, if you can both be ready by tomorrow.”