chardismastic: (036.)
ʀᴀғᴇ "ɴᴏᴛ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ" ᴀᴅʟᴇʀ ([personal profile] chardismastic) wrote in [community profile] entranceway2016-08-22 06:34 pm

( audio )

[ Audio clicks on to the shuffle of papers and a considering hum before Rafe speaks. His voice is mild. Sincere. Level in the way one can only sound when one is way too used to having things work out the way he wants them to, no matter how long it takes or how much it costs. ]

Well. Isn't this interesting.

[ When some people say interesting, you can tell they mean something entirely different. A professor reading over a test that clearly hadn't been studied for as he reaches for a red pen; a girl at a bar at the hearing how you just never have enough time to work on your novel; a cop flipping over your registration to find it's expired. It's one of those catch-all words but when Rafe says it? Nah. He just means interesting. ]

I always appreciate being prepared, and gotta say. This pamphlet? Good stuff, clean design, very to the point. Credit where it's due.

[ Arriving like a babe in the woods isn't really Rafe's scene. After all, a wide variety of factors have suddenly been yanked out of his control; the few he has remaining to him become all the more important to take advantage of. So although he's still learning the lay of the land, he's doing so after availing himself of a room, a shower, a fresh shirt, and this handy dandy pamphlet. ]

Although... You know, not to brag or anything but I'm a guy with a couple of talents. Architecture, for one. Anybody else checking this place out? I mean, here I am walking around those gardens and one minute I'm thinking 18th-century French, fantastically preserved, then there's some Gothic elements peeking round a corner— Jesus! Lloyd Wright, right there. [ You'd think the guy was watching a match at Wimbledon, and politely un-invested in who the winner turns out to be. ] Phenomenal fenestration, when it decides to stick to something longer than a minute. I suppose I'll have to get up higher for some bearings on this whole thing. Might even be a little fun with the right equipment.
nonscriptum: to a non-believer? (why would a death threat be a big deal)

[personal profile] nonscriptum 2016-08-23 06:39 am (UTC)(link)
[Great.

This is the Rafe Adler he remembers, a patronizing, businesslike air to his insults, prodding at a distinct disadvantage as though it were overripe, low-hanging fruit.
]

Oh, you're a real comedian. Glad that hasn't changed.

[Nate snaps, partly out of confusion, partly out of anger for being strung along. So much for familiar faces providing him with anything outside of mild anxiety. The sudden and violent desire to hang up the phone twists in his side where Flynn's bullet sat several weeks ago. It's easy enough to play off when he's spent the better part of his youth lying, but it doesn't make the news shock any less.

2016. Seven years from now. He switches to the defensive almost instantaneously.
]

So are you stalking my jobs or is future me a lot more lax with giving out details?
nonscriptum: extortion, terrible breath, murder! (but he's the worst of guys!)

[personal profile] nonscriptum 2016-08-24 02:08 am (UTC)(link)
[Stories get around.

In the underworld of illicitly-acquired antiquities that's how it always goes, a grapevine hanging on a wide trellis that stretches well into the social circles where most of the people involved have another life, a day job, a mild-mannered alter ego. Having never had the luxury of a second identity to fall back on - kinda hard when the one you've got now was unscrupulously adopted with no formal paperwork - Nate does find himself talked about, gossip curling back around and tales made taller.

What the fuck kind of stories has Rafe been hearing?
]

Y'know, this might come as a surprise to you, but I don't go into a job expecting some loaded jerkweed with a boner for heavy ordnance and an army of hired thugs to show up, indiscriminately blowing holes in every building within a five-mile radius.
nonscriptum: piss off (I have two words for you:)

[personal profile] nonscriptum 2016-08-24 04:46 am (UTC)(link)
[Nine years, nine fucking years and Nate has no idea where this cutting attitude comes from, unless Rafe is nursing a decade-old grudge like some kind of curmudgeon from a Dickens novel.

It strikes him deeper than Rafe perhaps expected, pulled back into a nightmare he still has. Nate hadn't thought much before Panama, a few consequences and drawbacks, doubts smoothed over by Sam's more experienced hand and a don't worry, little brother, it's gonna be a piece of cake. Of course, exterior factors were variables. Wildcards.

There are reasons why people in the business tend to vet each other if they're reliable. Or if they just happen to enjoy turning Panamanian prison wardens into shish-kebabs. Maybe if he'd pried more into the job beforehand he'd still have family.

He's entertained a lot of "maybe" since then.
]

Well, I see you've still got that stick shoved way the Hell up your ass, so how about you just let me know when you're through rating my performance on a scale of "street mountebank" to "master swindler." I'll wait.
nonscriptum: we're gonna turn this debacle into a straight up "bacle" (don't worry. it's gonna be fine.)

[personal profile] nonscriptum 2016-09-06 01:32 am (UTC)(link)
[Nate doesn't think his methods should be in question right now, not when it isn't a subject that both parties have agreed to, especially not when he's been confronted by someone he didn't expect to see for another...decade, hopefully? For all that their paths should occasionally cross in under-the-table dealings, Nate has been lucky enough to avoid transactions with this particular ex-partner.

He doesn't reply. Rafe knows his question was rhetorical.
]

Oh yeah? What's that, a moral compass?

[Also rhetorical, also bitter, and also hypocritical. Coming from a professional thief it isn't much of a retort and Nate is perfectly aware, but being at a distinct temporal disadvantage has him tetchy.]
nonscriptum: I speak the common tongue (how dare you sir)

[personal profile] nonscriptum 2016-09-06 05:01 am (UTC)(link)
[Nate's indignation leaves his body the same way all the blood drains out of his face: suddenly, and without warning. It's probably a good thing they aren't speaking in person, that Nate can't see the look Rafe would be giving him right now, when his lungs are sucked clean of air because the last time he heard anyone say Avery's name out loud was when he crawled back to Sully's place after Scotland, begging to crash on his couch.]

Wh-

[He sits down, perched on the edge of a worn couch with the phone pressed to his ear, chewing seconds that feel like hours.]

You found him? [Nate asks as he finally drags his voice back into his chest, breathy and a far cry from the sharp, accusatory edge he'd employed moments before.] You found the Gunsway haul?
Edited 2016-09-06 05:03 (UTC)
nonscriptum: I'd honestly be dead without it (modern medicine is amazing)

[personal profile] nonscriptum 2016-09-06 03:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[The trick behind those brilliant conclusions is having some place to start - Nate can't build foundations out of sand, even with a reasonably generous wealth of information on Henry Avery's life, his "death," and his exploits. Nate's insatiable curiosity overpowers his resentment toward the smirk he can hear in every word that leaves Rafe's mouth.

Avery's greatest heist, and the horrific price both parties had paid for Long Ben's gain. Nate still remembers, even if he hasn't looked through those files in years.

It doesn't take a genius to realize that Rafe is milking the moment for everything it's worth. With the advantage in time and knowledge - and the rock-solid grudge he must still be nursing - he's counting on Nate to beg for the information.

Nate obliges.
]

What the Hell could be bigger than four-hundred million in Mughal treasure?
nonscriptum: it's my first time in church (blessings to you)

[personal profile] nonscriptum 2016-09-08 03:31 pm (UTC)(link)
[Nate hasn't so much grappled for a "normal life" as he has flung himself into whatever adventure strikes his fancy, although the most recent case was more happenstance than planning. No man expects to have his long-time burglary buddy screw him over at the eleventh hour in the middle of a job. Whatever impressions Rafe is projecting almost don't apply.

Once again, it does come as a substantial relief to Nate that he has Rafe over the phone. The words sink in like a hot knife through butter, the fingers of Nate's free hand curling into his palm as he concentrates on something in the middle distance, cogs and pistons moving rapidfire over the implications of such a simple statement.
]

For God and liberty.

[He says to himself, practically inaudible when his heart stops and kickstarts again into adrenaline-charged excitement. They're here, he knows, he can't leave and neither can Rafe but it exists, holy shit, it exists.]

Wha- no, [Nate huffs, the sound light, almost disbelieving.] No, I can't believe I didn't think of it befo- for God and liberty, Jesus, Rafe, that's-

[Already on his feet again and raking a hand through his hair Nate resumes his pacing, the movement facilitating his theorizing, wearing a grin that only the inscrutably mad or overly thrilled could wear.]

You know what this- the rumored pirate colony, Charles Johnson wasn't just blowing smoke out of his ass, it's...and you were there? You were there, in Libertalia?