taketothesea | (no subject)

(no subject)

The house didn't look like much, though he supposed it wouldn't. It was a sort of no-man's-land, caught between several agencies and, of course, completely off any of their books. In short, it looked exactly like the sort of place a group of mid-level criminals might choose to hole up in. In short, it wasn't promising at all.

What he wouldn't give for a decent crew's quarters, though he wasn't going to find that here. Squaring his shoulders, James strode into the building, turning sideways to navigate his duffle bags through doors.

"Anyone home?" At least it's clean. Cleaner than he was expecting. He wrinkles up his nose as he passes the open kitchen. "Hello in there?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There was the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs and then a short, young, sandy-haired man came in. He was wearing a shirt and tie and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses pushed up on his head. "Hi, you must be Norrington. Pleasure. I'm Randolph Lyall. Everyone else is out right now, so you get to see the place in relative peace."

James wasn't expecting someone quite so lovely. (Although the glasses, which looked large and fussy, weren't doing him any favors. They hardly looked like normal glasses at all, more some steam-punk inspired device.)

"Indeed I am. It's a pleasure, Mr. Lyall."

As soon as the man said his name, James's brain was working. Different agencies. But he'd heard the rumors, that there might be a few people there to look out for. Lyall's name had come up more than once.

"I'll take it for what it is. Where might I leave my things?"

'Mr.' was definitely not his title, but Lyall wouldn't bother correcting him. It was better than slipping up and outing them in front of a criminal, for instance. "Call me Randolph, if you like. We're not very formal here. Since we're all supposed to be friends."

He chuckled. "Bedrooms are upstairs. Steve got pulled out last week- shame, that- so you'll be getting his room." He led the way up the slightly creaking stairs to the next floor. "No one is allowed up here without belonging to an agency. That's probably our most important rule."

"Randolph, then."

'Supposed to be' was an interesting choice of words. Of course they were playing a role, but that didn't preclude them from being, at the very least, friendly. James followed him up the stairs, to the recently vacated room. Hopefully Steve had been the clean sort.

"Are you telling me not to bring anyone home, Randolph?" He sounded dryly amused by the idea.

Steve had been reasonably tidy, and Randolph had cleaned it up when he'd heard about James moving in. The room was spotless now- might as well make a good first impression, right?

"I was, actually." Randolph smiled crookedly. "A nice romance or two can lend an air of authenticity to your cover. Just don't bring them here."

A nice romance like Tarabotti? James had only heard rumors, of course, about Randolph's position with the Woolsey, but when that particular gentleman had gone missing, it had caught the attention of everyone. "I do have some modicrum of understanding what's involved, here."

His voice was heavy and dry, and the smile he returned was not nearly sincere. He wasn't about to blow his cover on a fling. "But thank you for the advice."

"Sorry. I didn't get much of a file on you and I find it's better safe and mildly condescending than sorry." He shrugged with a rather charming smile, which was apparently perfectly sincere. "We do get some green recruits."

"I suppose I can understand that." The room was very clean, so he was apt to be a little more forgiving. He swung his bag onto the bed.

"You said one of the rules. What are the others?" After all, even if they were common sense like the first, better not to run afoul of anyone.

"Do the washing up when it's your turn, don't expect anyone else to do your paperwork, and make your undercover calls from the phone room- it's the door to the left of the loo. Do you have any questions?" Mostly their agencies had enough rules that the house didn't more. Randolph did most of the rest of the cleaning, since he found it soothing.

"That sounds simple enough." James's smile morphed into something more genuine as he began unpacking his bag. No sense in leaving it till later. It would just become clutter.

"Not at the moment, though I'll be sure to seek you out if I do." He was curious as to how much Randolph had been told about him, and about his job.

Randolph leaned against the door to watch him. Nice and efficient- very good signs. "Good. I'm not that hard to find- my room's the nearest one to the stairs. We're here to support each other, on ops and in everything else, so don't be afraid to ask."

At that, James allowed a hint of a smile to creep onto his face. "I thought we were here to complete our objectives." Which, needless to say, could be counter to each other. Obviously someone had been telling him tales, as far as the goings-on of the house went.

Lyall smiled back easily. "You're on the job to complete your objectives. You're here because the house provides a support structure that undercover agents otherwise lack." Most of the time the varying government agencies in the house worked together fairly well.

'Most of the time.' James looked thoughtful for a moment, nodding, as he emptied out the last of his things and stowed the duffle under his bed.

"Well then, Randolph. Care to show me around?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only