Blindsided

Who: Brett and Eris, then Brett and Jakob
Where: Eris' place, the One More Round
When: Early hours

Eris had the files she'd been going through, adding to, since she had to get down everything she needed for Brett into the file specifically meant to turn the commissioner white, enough to let him know that getting rid of the problem wasn't going to be so easy. She'd also have to tell Brett, if he was going to do it at all, to make sure that the man knew if he did get taken out, the information would get out there anyways. Mutually assured destruction. Some people only spoke that specific language and she knew it.

She'd left a message for Brett at his place, or more specifically, with Ginger, but she hoped she'd gotten it. She'd also gone to the library to get a few things, newspaper articles and the like to help flesh out her own contributions to the proceedings. After that? It was a waiting game. She'd already sang her set that night, so it was late, though she'd been given a pass on a second one. The owner downstairs now knew that she was going to be departing in a while, so he actually wanted to build up the anticipation. Wanted people to want to see her, when they hadn't.

That didn't make the wait any easier, as she sat in the windowframe by the fire escape, letting the cool breeze wash over her. She was nervous, even if she really couldn't have said why. The unknown, perhaps. She didn't know what to expect, and that was needling at her something fierce.

Brett had got the message earlier on in the evening, but it hadn't been much detailed and since he'd spent the day shopping with her girls, he wasn't in any hurry to go running over to her either. He knew that the shopping thing had had to be done, and Eris had been right - those floosies would have fleeced them, given half a chance, but by the end of the day, he'd been exhausted and he needed some time. So, as a result, it was well gone midnight by the time he turned up, letting himself into the loft. He'd seen the figure there, by the fire escape, when he'd left his car in the alley, so he headed straight over to her - having locked the door behind him first of all.

She turned to look over her shoulder at him, not in the slightest wondering about the timeframe he'd picked to show. He wasn't on her time schedule, and she wasn't about to start pretending he was, or trying to implement that sort of dominance. It would have felt wrong. "How were the girls?" she asked. She didn't imagine he'd had that spectacular a time, after all. Hopefully it hadn't been too painful for him, but she knew he wasn't the world's most patient man, and he was easy to rile. She was asking less because she wanted to know how the girls were, and more because she wanted a better idea how he was after having dealt with them all day.

"They're all still alive," Brett grunted. "And they're kitted out." He didn't add in any details about how the day had gone, though he was sure that she'd be vastly entertained if he did. Which, really, was the reason he wasn't offering that up. "You left a note."

She nodded, and while normally she would have wanted the details, tonight she didn't. They'd just be a distraction anyhow. "I have something for you." she told him. Pushing her shoulder off of the wall, she walked past him towards her bed, where she sat, pulling open the nightstand's drawer. Reaching inside, she pulled out the case files she had, both the ones Jakob had given her before, along with the newest ones. The top one was the most important, and that she held out to him. She didn't say anything, she just offered it, thinking he might need a little time to look at it, figure out what it was, and...well. React. However that was going to be.

Brett frowned a little as she held out the files to him and he took them, flipping through until he realised what he was looking at. Then he closed them immediately and looked at her. "...Where did you get these?" he asked, his voice on edge. These didn't exist. He was sure they didn't exist. That was what had gotten him into this shit: the fact that they didn't exist. They couldn't - someone would have known about them.

"Hollis. I don't know where he got them." Eris said, not even about to start hedging the truth here. "I told you I was working on it. He came through with these today. There's...a plan, of sorts." she said, watching him. "You can do it or I can. It's up to you." She wasn't sure he'd take well to that, but in her mind, there wasn't the option of not doing it. Not here, not now, not with where they were going. Her main goal was to do what she'd set out to, and she was right on the edge of it. Right there, just about to have it actually follow through. She couldn't stop now.

"Where did he get these?" Brett asked, his tone not changing one bit. He'd never had anything on Hollis, never had reasons to think that the guy was definitely crooked, but he'd never exactly inspired Brett to think he was perfectly straight either. And suddenly evidence of Brett's assignment was resurfacing? Where the fuck had that been three years ago when he'd been hauled in on a murder rap? of course, Brett hadn't told the cops interrogating him for Hardy's murder that he'd been working undercover - after what he knew by that stage, there was no point. He'd already very quickly come to the realisation that he'd been set up. And then the O'Malley lawyer had turned up and given him what had seemed to be the only way out. And now this - after all this time. After everything he'd done. The file was there, it was real, it existed. It left Brett wondering if he'd sold his soul unnecessarily.

"I just told you that I don't know where he got them." Eris told him, though her tone was light. Gentle. She wasn't pushing one bit here, and she wasn't going to start, either. "But they look fairly complete. Not that you can take my word on the matter, but I know for certain there's more than enough there to prove you were undercover. The rest...that's to ensure the commissioner doesn't decide you're easier to just keep in the shadows, or get the silly idea to kill you. I've added some of my own into the files. It'll be enough."

Brett wasn't entirely listening to what she was saying. He was trying to catch up with what he'd been handed - and process what that meant about his past. Three years. Three years of being a bottom feeder, a low life, of doing unspeakable things to people - all because he'd thought he had no choice. Because he'd thought that there was no other option if he wanted to life. Because he'd thought that between death and betrayal, all evidence of what he'd been doing was gone. But it wasn't - it was here, in his hands. Why didn't he find that a decade ago? Why hadn't he looked harder? This whole nightmare, it could have just never happened. He could have had a career. he could have had a life. He didn't even look at her - he hadn't even got so far as the second folder. He was just still staring at the closed cover of the first one right now.

She remained silent for a few long moments, before she stood, setting some other files aside, and she walked closer, but not directly up to him. Her eyes were up on him, studying his expression, trying to figure out what might be going on behind his eyes, even if she had absolutely no clue. It was almost like a blank slate, only not quite. "Are you alright?" she asked, tone quiet.

He looked up at her then, weighing the files in his hands. "I - I need some time," he told her, after a moment, setting both of them down on the side and heading towards the door. he didn't know what he was going to do. Go for a walk, maybe. Try and clear his head. Try and make sense of everything. He wasn't sure - he hadn't expected this. He'd never expected this. He didn't know how to handle this.

Blinking, she followed him. "Brett, maybe going wandering around right now isn't the best idea. If you need time, I can leave." she told him. She could just go back downstairs, get a drink, worry herself nearly fucking sick, wondering what the fuck was going through his mind. She didn't want him not to take time he needed, but she didn't think him walking around with a head so thrown he didn't know what to do --which was what she was figuring was happening-- was the best plan ever.

"No. Stay here," he told her. Which actually had nothing to do with any kind of sense that it would be safer for him out there than it would be for her. No, he just wanted that control - if she left, then at some point she'd come back, whether he was ready for her to do so or not. There'd be some kind of timer on that. He wanted that control - hell knew he suddenly felt like he had no control over anything else.

She continued following him. "Are you going to be back?" she asked. Suddenly she was wondering he was ever going to be back. It was a feeling that was something she was familiar with, an ache that had settled in every time he left before things had...shifted in a different direction between them. She hadn't known how he would react here, but this hadn't actually made the list. She also didn't expect him to answer her. But she had to try.

"..You've got the files," he pointed out to her. It seemed a better answer than 'I don't know'. More truthful. He didn't know - but, they were there. It was there. He hadn't even read the whole thing, but he didn't need to - he'd lived it. He could guess at what was in the other, though he didn't entirely know. He didn't know anything. Three years. Three years. All that blood on his hands. She was the one good thing in all that time. But right now, he didn't know anything. he needed space to think.

"I'm aware. I'm not worried about the files." she said. And it would have been a difficult admission at any other given time in their relationship, any other stretch of moments, but not right there in that one. It was honest. Pure truth. "I'm worried about you." She felt like everything was slipping. And she'd felt it before, but it had always been on a personal level. Not for someone else. Not with him. She didn't know what to expect, even what to suspect. There wasn't the slighest amount of prediction she could give right then, and it was awful.

He had his back to her, but he'd stopped heading for the door, a few steps away from it, and it was bolted. "That shouldn't exist," he told her, his voice sounding almost empty, though deep and low.

It was with a nearly shameful amount of relief that she realized he'd stopped, at least. She stopped as well, not wanting to crowd him, even if she wanted to go up to him. "I know." she said. She'd seen it. Gone through it. It wasn't just made up on the fly, though. Those were old files. The pages yellowed, dogeared. Done on an older style typewriter than was current. "My only guess is someone still had them, packed away somewhere." The files smelled like they had been. That attic or basement smell. "And he just knew where to find it."

"They were there. All that time - through everything. Everything I did. They were there." Which meant that what he'd done, everything he'd done - he'd done all of that when there was proof out there, when he could have shown that he wasn't what they branded him. he just hadn't tried hard enough, hadn't looked deep enough. "I need to know where Hollis got them." Even if it meant going hammering on the guy's door right now. He needed to know.

"There's always a loophole. There's always a fallback. No one burns everything. Especially not the type of person that would have done what they did to you. People like that...they want their little trophies." she explained, tone very soft, very light. "If you need to know, ask. From the look of it, though, from what I saw, the files belonged to Hardy." she told him, walking a little closer, but sort of in a roundabout way. More towards his side, making an arc towards him, but not rushing it and not coming up behind him. "I can call him. Set up a meeting. Something." she offered.

"Do it," Brett told her, aware that she was moving, but not looking at her. He needed to know - both out of a need to prove that there was absolutely no fucking way he could have found the file, and also out of some kind of masochistic need to be told that he could have done. That he ruined his entire fucking life by not looking hard enough. Either way, he needed to know.

"Alright." she said. "I'll be back." She headed towards the door, since she didn't have a phone upstairs here. She'd see about getting him back to the Round, or something, even if it was after close. She had keys. She'd call around, get him up, whatever she needed to do. She was sure he'd be eager to come to a meeting in the first place, wanting to see things for himself. How that would go, she wasn't sure. She'd want to be close, if Brett didn't want her to be there when it happened.

Brett let her go, waiting until the door closed before moving at all, and even then it took him a moment or two. He crossed to pour himself a glass of whiskey, heavy measure, though his hand shook slightly as he did so. He picked up the glass, considered it for a moment, watching the liquid shake in the cut glass tumbler, then set it back down on the side. No - no, his head was bad enough right now without needing to fuzz it with alcohol, or give away his state with shaking hands. He looked over at the files, laying there, the one yellowed and old, the other less so. God. He didn't go over. Three fucking years.

Eris was gone for a little while. She called around, til she got him, and arranged for him to meet at the Round within the hour. When she headed back upstairs, she opened up the door to look into the apartment, not even sure he was still going to be there. He was, though, over by the alcohol, even if he was motionless. "He'll be here soon. Downstairs." she said, voice soft.

Downstairs. That could be... interesting. The cop and the mobster, both in the no go zone. But what more did he have to lose? "Sure," he said, still trying to process everything. At least there'd be no real waiting.

"It's closed. No one's there. I can let everyone in. Do you want me there, or not?" she asked, sounding like she'd do whatever it was he chose on that score. "I've told him absolutely nothing about our involvement. So you know." she added, not that she thought she was even going to come up, but if she did, if Hollis tried to ferret out the piece of the puzzle she'd refused to hand him since she first brought it up, she wanted Brett to know she'd been secretive there. She'd not wanted Jakob to know it was personal. Anything personal...well. That was trouble. It meant the other person could decide to twist the knife at any time, and they'd get certain results. If they didn't know you had a stake in it, it could just be business, and then there wasn't anything that twisting the knife would gain besides a pissed off target.

"Stay in the back," Brett told her. "He knows you're involved, even if he doesn't know how. You made the call, it's on your territory, he'll know you should be somewhere." But he didn't want the distraction, for any of them. He just needed to know. That was all. Information. And possibly someone who was armed and out of sight, in case anything went really fucking wrong.

Well, that was helpful. Then she didn't have to stick close by in some other sense. So she'd do just that. After a few moments, she considered. "I could be on stage, just in the heavy shadows. Clear shot, just in case, and he wouldn't see me." she told him. Stages were generally designed so that you could see the audience, but things could go on back there that they couldn't see.

So, they were thinking along the same lines. Unsurprising, all things considered. He nodded, agreeing to that. She knew the layout of the joint far better than he, after all. He could count the times he'd been in the Round on the fingers of one hand and still have enough left to pull a trigger. He just needed to know. Needed to find out.

Now she took the time to cross the loft to him, coming up by his side, and she lightly touched the back of his shoulder. "Are you going to be alright?" she asked. "You don't look it right now." She wondered how volitile it might get down there. Possibly 'very'. Hollis wasn't always the best person to deal with. Hell even she'd gotten irritated with him from time to time, and she'd met with him only a few times since it had started.

It said something that he didn't shrug her straight off him, leaving her hand where it was, though he still didn't turn to her. "That file means that the last three years of my life? Didn't need to have happened. If I could have gotten that. I didn't think it fucking existed. Everything I did - everything - it was all because that file didn't fucking exist." And yet, there it was. It changed everything. It was possible that it changed everything. Brett didn't even know yet.

"You didn't have anyone you could trust, no leverage, and no idea where to even start. You were set into a situation where you had to scramble, and that was all you could do to keep your head above water for a long time." she said, tone still soft, as she gazed at his profile. "The reason we have it now, is because of my old standing, and the fact that people know better than to fuck with me. That, and I know how to get Hollis to pull out the stops. I knew there had to be something out there, because I know what goes into ruining people. I know the mentality. I know how it works. You didn't have any of that either."

But I was innocent - and that proves it. He didn't say that aloud. He didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. She'd say what she could, he knew, but he needed to know where the files had been. Whether, if he'd just looked. Three years of his life. What he could have done with three years of his life.

"When you're exonerated, you'll be able to do whatever you want." She said. "You won't have that hanging over your head. You'll be an innocent man, walking free." There'd be a lot of press. there'd probably be a settlement of some description for him. Money. The paper would be trying for interviews, people from his past would come out of the woodwork, wanting to tell him they knew all along that he wasn't capable of what he'd been accused of. With his plight, he could even be dubbed a hero again. The city so loved their heros. But he'd be free. And she'd said he could do whatever he wanted, and meant it, even if she understood that might mean their plans would change. Before, he hadn't had much of anyplace to go. After this? He'd have the world.

"Stop it," he told her, sharply, not wanting to hear any of that. He didn't want to hear any of that, not right now. maybe not ever. She'd never got it, had she? When he'd told her there was no way out. She'd never believed him - and here she was, presenting him with an exit, a fucking damn miracle and that just proved that she didn't get it. There was still no escaping it. No escaping the things he'd done. It was all still there, inside his head, and right now, right this very minute, all that open door with it's exit sign did was to shed light on all the rest of it.

"For now." she said, not pushing it any further, but knowing that he needed to hear it. Even if he didn't want to hear it, he was going to have to. That was just how that was going to go. And if what he wanted to do was drown himself in self loathing, he could do that too. "We should get downstairs." she said. "I'll be there." Even if he knew she would be. She crossed to pick up the firearm he'd given her in the first place, and then walked towards the door. "Come down when you're ready."

He waited, letting her go, waiting for her to walk out the door, listening until he couldn't hear her any more. And then he turned and crossed back over to the files. This time he looked through them. not reading everything, but - with his file anyhow - checking it was all there. Checking for mistakes, anomalies, anything and nothing. Possibly looking for some suggestion it was faked, but it was clearly not. And everything was there. Everything he'd done, every report he'd made - even down to the last message he'd sent to Hardy, that he was onto something, that he'd be out of touch for the next few days, that he hoped this was it. It had been it. It had been the end of both their lives. Hardy to a grave, Brett to a nightmare.

He set his file aside, turning to the other one. This was new, though he recognised some parts. Some events. This was from a different place though. He hadn't stood a chance, had he? When the top was this crooked. Made him wonder how the hell Jackson had done it. Why the guy was still alive, still there. Made him sick, all of it. But, time enough had passed - he headed down to the Round.

It took nearly an hour after Eris sent word out to Jakob before the detective finally arrived, parking down the block from One More Round and making a short trek on foot. He'd been watchful with paranoia for that walk, studying windows and alleyways, closed businesses, rooftops, every vantage point that an observer might use to their advantage. This was a curious call, after all, so soon on the heels of their earlier meeting. Had someone gotten wise to the plan in motion? Was Jakob walking into an ambush?

The chance that he was had his revolver out in his good hand, held low against his coat as Jakob slipped through the door of the Round, adjusting a far thinner file folder under the crook of his wounded arm. The place should've been locked tight by now, it was late enough that even the drunks who littered the alleyways were gone, but there he was, staring into the few lights of the bar, so few that the place was dimmer than usual, nearly black. "Stockard?" Jakob called just enough to be heard, still lingering in the doorway on the chance that he'd need to run.

"Try again," Brett said, his voice clear in the half light. He'd been here long enough now to look settled - though he didn't feel that way. He'd long since learned to keep his inner feelings off his face though, so he looked composed enough, sitting as he was at one of the tables near the stage, a whiskey in one hand, set on the table itself, his chair kicked out a little ways so that he was more sprawled than sat. he didn't look towards the stage, where he knew she was, but stayed seated, facing towards the entrance, see and be seen, and with a clear view of anyone else who may or may not have turned up along with. Brett didn't trust anyone, and that wasn't about to change.

For a moment, Jakob was silent aside from the soft click of his revolver's hammer being thumbed back. He didn't recognize the voice, hadn't seen Brett in over three years now, and a man waiting for him was a change in the plan that Jakob hadn't anticipated. "Well then," he said towards the vague shape he could make out in the darkness, "I'm afraid I'd only have one guess, Mr. Trent." He smiled thinly in the shadows, amused beyond words by this. Eris had denied him a chance to meet with Brett before, but now apparently the offer was not only back on the table, it was expected of him. "Will your benefactor be joining us this evening?" Jakob asked, easing the hammer of his gun back down and taking a few steps deeper into the bar.

"How the hell would I know? I just got a time and a place," Brett said, not making any effort to be nice. Or smooth. Just lying through his teeth. The game on that front would be up soon enough, once they went public. Which meant that he couldn't take the lie as far as maybe before he would have done. But, for now, he was going to be going with her tack of keeping things private. "Oh - and some paperwork. Which, apparently, came from you, Hollis. Where'd you get it?" he asked instead - direct and to the point.

"I'm sure you did," Jakob replied pleasantly, offering a quick glimpse of his mirth as he moved the length of the bar, stepping under one of the few lights. "Patience now. Questions may change with time, but answers are fixed things," he taunted, holstering his pistol and pouring himself a splash of scotch from a bottle behind the bar. "Myself, for instance? I've wondered for ten curious days just why it is that a woman like Eris Stockard would deign to help you. Before her disappearance, she maintained a choke point on the flow of power in this city, and she never gave a favor without asking one in kind. So," he finished with a sip of his drink, "Illuminate me, I'll gladly return the favor."

"Not here to trade favours, Hollis - I'm here for answers. Find it really fucking convenient that you came up with that file three years after it didn't exist. So hows about you tell me straight and I won't blow your fucking head off?" Brett asked him. So, fine - he'd never been particularly good at being smooth. He'd always been pretty damn hot at threatening though. Even before he'd started working for the O'Malleys. Funny - in the routine, he'd never been 'good cop'. Of course, he could be way off mark with this one. There could be an entirely reasonable explanation as to how Jakob got that information. But Brett wasn't about to allow reality and truth get in the way of a good threat.

Jakob smirked, shaking his head and fixing a dangerous look Brett's way. "That would be an ill-advised decision," he warned, "Even with the paperwork I've procured, there are still certain steps I'm overseeing that will give you the time needed to use it." Without the manipulations he had forming in the police force itself, the reaction from both criminal factions would be swift. Brutal. Permanent this time.

"But if you'll consider answering my questions later, I shall relent," Jakob went on, setting his file aside and leaning on the bar. "I found your file in the care of Captain Hardy's widow. There was a footnote in an old file of his at the station that referred to private copies of his case load, and it was a simple connection to make. Without it, I'm afraid you would've kept learning such charming etiquette from your present associates."

Brett inhaled slowly, thinking that over. "Rosetta had it?" he asked, swallowing a little. Well, if that was the case, it would have been entirely beyond his reach anyhow. That woman had bought entirely into the story that Brett had shot her husband. Like as not he would have had a bullet through him if he'd gone anywhere near her, let alone trying to get her to listen to anything he had to say. The veiled insults from Jakob he had no trouble ignoring. he never pretended to be a nice guy, and when people highlighted that he wasn't, well, they were just right, far as Brett was concerned.

"She did," Jakob confirmed, "Along with a great deal of other files belonging to the man. I doubt she had any idea about the contents of his case work, of course." And he'd tied up a loose end there, making damned sure that no one in either syndicate could pin that file's recovery on Jakob. "Between it and certain paperwork of my own, I do believe Ms. Stockard is going to get her request."

"And what, exactly, was her request?" Brett asked, since he hadn't actually found that out from Eris - mainly through want of asking. But with Jakob, well, that was different. He could find out from the man and not have to worry about the angles on things.

"That you get your life back," Jakob told him curtly, sipping his drink with a leisurely air that didn't quite fit this dire meeting. "It would have been a simple thing to make you disappear, or set up a new life, but no. That was not good enough for her. She wanted you cleared; no charges, no enemies looking to repay you. The freedom to live any life you might like," he explained, flashing teeth in his smile as Jakob chuckled, "You and Eris alike are fortunate. I do so enjoy a challenge."

"I think it was more about the challenge than the result. She probably thought you couldn't do it," Brett told him, again backing away from there being any real connection between himself and Eris. Just little steps, but they added up, or so he hoped. "So this is it - my life back?" he asked, wondering at that. That was what they thought? Yeah, he could see how they would. But he'd said it before - there was no going back. Those bridges were long gone, and he'd seen the shit in the ruins.

Jakob laughed again, ambling over to a table near Brett to sit and nodding. "I wasn't sure I could either," he explained, setting his drink down to produce a pair of dice, "And in all things, however much skill a player may have? Luck is undeniable. Luck made me notice the footnotes of the late Captain, god rest his soul." He took a quick drink to hide his smirk there; Hardy had been a fool too blind to see betrayal standing next to him, filing his reports for him.

"I wouldn't say 'back', either," Jakob corrected, shaking his head, "While you could rejoin the department, and I would speak of your verified innocence at every turn, would you want to? You have the opportunity to fashion any life you choose, Trent. Do not waste that chance."

Brett had absolutely no intention of rejoining the department, that was for sure. Jakob was perfectly and entirely correct on that. "So, what would you suggest? So I don't 'waste that chance'?" he asked, more to hear what the answer would be than anything else. He had his plan already set, and he'd realised slowly that that hadn't changed. He hadn't been sure until Hollis had told him what he needed to know, but looking back, that had never changed. if it had changed, there would have been no reason for him to step back from lying about his relationship with Eris, from calling her all sorts of names to underline that supposed lack of relationship. no reason to be careful not to say anything which in the next week or so would be exposed as a lie. Yet he'd done all of that, without thought.

The look on Jakob's face was definitely one of intrigue as he mulled over the question, swirling his glass' contents slowly. "My choices are seldom echoed by the rest of the city, or even understood," he said thoughtfully, "I suppose it would depend on what you want in life. A man of your... talents, with the knowledge you've gleaned, could be a valuable asset to either Konovich or DiGiovanni. Especially with what will be an unassailable public front. You could willingly invest in such a life, though I doubt you would. A quiet life may suit you instead." He smiled darkly, washing back the rest of his drink in a smooth swallow. "Find yourself a lady you deem 'special', spawn a few children together. Perhaps open a shop in the city. Unremarkable anonymity suits some."

Brett raised an eyebrow. "Why, Officer, you encouraging a man to go and break the law?" he asked, emotionlessly, watching Jakob's face carefully. he wouldn't be surprised, especially not since Hollis had hardly even flinched at Brett's earlier threats. Made a guy wonder, that was for sure.

"Detective," Jakob corrected quickly, though he was smiling openly now. "And really, Trent. I've handed over information to blackmail the commissioner of police. I've brought... let's call it selected reading on some of the other fine citizens we're surrounded by, just to sweeten the pot for confronting the commissioner. I knew Eris Stockard as well as she would let any man when she held a position of power." He rose from his seat, turning his back on Brett as he moved for another drink. "If you had any illusion of a virtuous cop trying to set things right on your behalf? Open your eyes. You are a curiosity, not a mark. I have no reason to lie to you," he lied with a smile. "So no, I'm not encouraging you. But I'm not cautioning you either. I am simply wondering, possibly as much as you, what the next step will be on your first day as a free man."

"Bullshit - everyone always has a reason to lie. Nobody tells anyone the entire truth. That's just the fucking way of the world," Brett said with complete cynicism. "So, you're not a virtuous cop - you're just like the rest of them. So, tell me Detective why the hell should I let you just walk out of here? To go back out onto the streets, on your merry fucking way?" the other man's smile bugged the hell out of him and Brett, more than anything, wanted to see if he could wipe it away. "You've read my file, I'm sure you've looked into my history. You know the kind of man I am. And you think I'm just going to let you walk away?" he baited, wondering if he'd get a bite, knowing that Jakob had a gun pointed on him, if he tried anything stupid.

Taking his time to pour a new drink, Jakob turned and held the bottle up, silently asking Brett if he might like one. "I think you're going to do exactly that," he said pleasantly, "This task is not so simple as waving a stack of papers under someone's nose and riding a float in a parade held in your honor, Trent. I am taking... certain measures to ensure that no criminal faction of any stripe will be able or willing to dispose of you, should the commissioner call them in a panic. If you were to shoot me? You would have a handful of hours to enjoy your vindication."

Looking far too smug and sure of himself, Jakob sighed as he took a drink. "They would likely start with your friends, neighbors, maybe acquaintances. These people would die just to make a brief point with you before you joined them. And not just them, any witnesses as well. Do you honestly think all of this can go unnoticed? Or that it has thus far? My tact has seen this through, and will see it to an end, with a measure of faith from you."

"You have twenty seconds to get out of here, Hollis," Brett told him, flatly. "Any longer than that, and I'll take my chances." So, this was it - this was the way out. To make that choice, to realise that there was a way to clear his name - but only through crime and blackmail. This was what it had come down to. The price. Brett didn't want to see this guy's face whilst he decided whether it was a price worth paying. Outward freedom paid for by adding to the list of inward crimes. Imprisoned within himself. Brett would make his decision, but he wanted this rat out of his sight. "One..."

Jakob couldn't help a chuckle, never believing Brett might actually kill him. He'd done too much for the man to be so stupid, right? Still, he rounded the bar again, finishing his drink as he moved and drumming his fingers on the file he'd brought. "A present," Jakob said as he set his glass down, "An appetizer, I suppose. Tidbits about others in the city that the commissioner should be aware are as vulnerable as he is. Pick three or four, I'll provide documentation." Ten, eleven... "And do send Eris my regards, I'll be waiting to hear from her. I look forward to working with you," he taunted, moving at a steady stroll for the door and disappearing out of it with a few seconds to spare.

Eris waited. She didn't appear right away, though she'd been considering making an appearance--though only if things got out of hand and in her own opinion, they hadn't. Though she still had to roll her eyes at just how full of himself Jakob had gotten. That man needed to be knocked down a peg or two. Truly, he did. Maybe she'd work on that one on her own, eventually. For now, though, she made sure he wasn't ducking back in. Walking out of the stage door to the left of it, she crossed the bar, locked the door again, and then walked to the jukebox against the wall. She took a few coins from behind the bar, dropped them in and chose a song, before she headed back over towards Brett. Setting the gun he'd given her down on the table, she reached out to take up the bottle he had there, and she took a drink from it. Her eyes were up on him, though she said nothing.

Brett had stood, after Jakob had walked out, and he still stood watching the exit, tenseness running through his body. He was aware of her standing there, but it was a moment or two before he turned, eyeing the bottle and taking it from her. Tipping his head back, he took a long mouthful, swallowing the liquid before setting the bottle down on the table, right next to his still-untouched glass of the same stuff.

She was quiet for a few moments, just watching him. Waiting. She might have asked what came next, how he was, if that had made him feel any better, minus the parts where Jakob was clearly an arrogant asshole and this entire thing made him giddy. But at the moment, she was keeping herself to herself, waiting for cues from him.

"I should have fucking shot him. Wiped the fucking smile off his face," Brett practically spat, knowing that the reasons that he hadn't had nothing to do with what Jakob had thought. The guy had clearly believed that he was alive because he was needed, because nothing could be done if he was dead. Maybe that was true. Maybe not. It still wasn't the reason. The reason that Jakob had walked out of here was because Brett was no murderer.

"You're not a murderer." Eris told him, taking up the glass, and she sipped at it, looking back towards the files Jakob had left. She didn't know what they were. She also really hadn't appreciated Jakob's attitude. But then he tried the same things with her. Like he was so amazing. And calling them a 'gift' when it was part of the deal to begin with. That had been an especially eyeroll worthy move. Though she'd spent a lot of the conversation rolling her eyes.

"Maybe not - but I'm everything else," Brett reminded her. For years now, he'd held onto that line, that thin thin line. And it had seemed like a lot. Now, it seemed like nothing at all. An illusion. A sop, a story to tell himself, to fool himself. He'd killed people, taken orders like a good little soldier and ended lives. As if only doing it under orders made a difference. It had then. Now - now he didn't know. Now it all seemed to be closing in on him.

"No, you're not. Not anymore. Not unless you choose to be." Eris told him, starting to head towards the files on the bartop, so she could see what was in them. If they'd be useful at all, or if it was just fluff that Jakob wanted to add to the pile to make himself seem more important. She walked around behind the bar, and opened the first one, glancing over it's contents. "He was greatly exaggerating, by the way. He thought he knew me that well. He didn't. He knew what I let him know, he thought what I wanted him to think." That claim of familiarity had been bothering her since he'd said it, even if it probably didn't bother Brett.

Brett hadn't even really noticed the claim that Jakob had made. It certainly hadn't bothered him. Right now, he had more things to think about than any supposed relationship between her and the cop. "You think it's that simple? That I can just choose to walk away? That that won't stay with me for the rest of my fucking life?" he snapped at her.

"No, I don't." Eris said. "It was never going to be that easy. What I am saying is that you won't have the social stigma hanging over your head. You're not going to be treated like you have been for the last three years. Your personal demons are yours, and you'll have to deal with them however you're going to. I say you did what you had to do. But so far as everyone else is concerned, you'll be a hero, and you'll have doors flying open just for passing by." She drank more from the glass, eyes over on him as she leaned on the bartop. "I think you've got a choice. Either you can let everything drag you down, you can continue to wallow in the darkness that's surrounded you, or you can try moving out of it. It's up to you." And she was well aware of the fact that Brett could well choose that first one. He did so like to punish himself.

Brett didn't give her a reply. He didn't have one for her yet. There was too much going on for him to be able to have any kind of answers right now. This whole thing - he'd known she'd been trying something, but this? He hadn't expected this. He'd never expected her to succeed at all. And for proof, for his past to resurface. He'd thought that was dead. Only, there it was. No, right now it was all too much.

She hadn't so much been expecting a reply, so it wasn't a huge disappointment that he didn't. She didn't take it personally. Instead, she killed the last of the drink in the glass, then walked over to the sink behind the bar to clean it. "The actual deed. Talking to the commissioner, all that. It can be anyone who does it." she told him, not looking back yet. "I can do it." The 'if you don't want to' was kept to herself. She was just presenting an option. That was all.

"It doesn't need to be done right now, right?" Brett said, after a long silence. This had waited three years, it could wait a while longer. He needed time to think about this. Time to actually be able to think about this.

Eris looked back at that. It took her a few moments to give voice to anything, though. "It's set to go down this weekend." she said. "...if you would like to rearrange that, I'll have to talk to Jakob again." She had the terrible feeling that if it was just sat on, just left there hanging, that he wouldn't work up the necessary motivation to do it. It would mean a life change, something major, and she understood that, but in her opinion, it needed to be done. It really needed to be done. He couldn't just ignore it, or go on as if nothing happened. It made her wonder if he was always going to do this. Just keep himself down because of that deep seeded self loathing streak he had, and invent new ways of punishing himself. Like sometimes she wondered if she wasn't just something along those lines.

Brett nodded. That gave him some time. He needed that time right now. Her turned slightly, enough to look her over. "I'll contact you before then," he promised, before turning and heading out.

Eris sighed. She wanted to call him back, but at the moment, she deemed it unwise. He'd contact her. Right. In the meantime, she'd just have to scramble, she supposed. She'd have to wonder if he was going to be back at all, or if he was going to disappear and she'd not see him again. If he'd still do anything they needed for their little project, or if that was off the table now. She was very aware it could be. Very aware. She could wind up being just a pivot point in his life, that made it possible to go in a different direction, and once he was done with that, he was done with her. Putting the clean glass away, she gathered up the files on the bartop, put the bottle back behind the bar, and shut out the lights. I'll contact you before then. Eris would believe that when it happened. Til then, she didn't know.