clearing babylon

who: brett and eris
where: babylon
when: very late

It was storming, of course. Enough that at least there weren't a whole lot of people out on the streets, which was a plus. It also meant it was a little miserable for her, but it wasn't like she'd never been drenched before. She'd come up on Babylon and had made a pretty unseen walk around the place, just to be sure it wasn't being watched. With the ball on that she'd read about, she figured the police had better things to do tonight, like guzzle free champagne, and pat themselves on the back.

That made what she wanted to do easier, at least. She kept half waiting for Brett, though she didn't know if he was going to be there. As she'd more or less expected, when she'd called him earlier to tell him what she'd be up to, and give him the option of coming with, he'd given her a non-commital answer. Typical for him. Then again, she'd wanted him to come, and she'd made it sound like she was just letting him know in case she was arrested, and he could show or not and she wasn't fussed. It had been a short conversation, really. And now she was here, looking up at her old building, that she'd fixed up from the heap it was, and turned it into something grand...only to help set in motion the events that lead to it's destruction again.

Not thinking too heavily about it, and telling herself she wasn't going to find anything anyhow, and Brett wasn't coming anyways, and she needed to get her ass in gear, she headed towards one of the back entrances. It wasn't necessarily a hidden one, more just one that didn't make itself obvious. It wasn't even the main back entrance, it was one that had led into the laundry and such. It wasn't like she was going to be waltzing in the front bloody door.

There were chains on it, of course, and she pulled the padlock up to start picking the lock, something she hadn't done in a long time, but knew how to do. It was like everyone said about things...riding a bike, you didn't really forget.

He'd been running late, what with one thing and another, plus he was being hellishly cautious. After all, whether there was a big fancy ball on for the boys in blue or not, Brett knew that there was a good chance that the place would still have someone hanging around it and as someone who was down as working for the O'Malley's, even if they didn't have anything they could make stick, Brett wasn't a fan of the cops catching him round the place, let alone breaking into a crime scene.

He'd left his car a few streets back, and he had the collar of his coat turned up against the rain, his hat keeping the rest of the worst off, especially pulled down over his brow. He figured it would be pretty good for stopping people recognising him as well as he crossed the street after the petite female figure he'd seen disappearing round the back of Babylon.

When he caught up with her, she was already well into picking the lock and he stepped up behind her, acknowledging to himself the fact he knew she hated it when he did that. "If you can't get that to work, I brought a crowbar," he told her, skipping the hellos.

She tensed when he did that and she grit her teeth for a moment, before she went back to picking the lock. At least he was blocking some of the rain. "It'll just be a moment." she said. "Surprisingly, I'm not entirely useless." she added, though it was less a barb and more just something she was saying to give herself time to untense. True to her word, though, she did get the lock to pop a few moments later, and she started to get the chain out of the way. So, he'd made it. She wasn't sure if she was surprised or not.

"Never thought you were, Princess," he said, stepping back a little as the lock opened and glancing behind them, just to check. There was nothing there but the heavy rainfall.

I'd be surprised if that was true. Eris thought but didn't share, and she slipped inside, not turning on the lights or anything. There was no better way to attract attention than to start firing up lights in a place that had been blocked up by the police. But she also knew where the candles were kept, and the little hurricane lamps. Those would be fine. It was another reason she'd come through this way, the utility closet was just up ahead. Going straight there, she lit up a candle in a brass holder designed for carrying. Setting it down, she shrugged her wet coat off, and set it on top of a worktop. She was very aware of Brett's presence, but didn't let herself look back at him.

He followed her, quietly, dripping a trail onto the floor. This was her territory, he wasn't going to pretend that he had any chance of knowing it as well as she did. Anyway, he wasn't entirely sure what they were doing here. As she was lit up in the candle light, for a moment he couldn't help but compare her now to the photo that had been in the box. It had definitely been her - the resemblance was certainly there. He still didn't know if he'd been meant to see it, or if it had been a by-product of her needing him to get the money. Either way, he wasn't talking about it. He followed her lead, shrugging off his jacket and taking off his hat, setting them both on the table and leaving him in shirt sleeves, the gun tonight now clear at his waist. Then he waited, listening to the silence around them, knowing he didn't need to glance back at the door again to know that he'd closed it. Watching her to see what came next.

She pulled her hair back, and pulled open a drawer to grab some chopsticks, which she used to hold it back. Then she grabbed the candle, and glanced back in his direction. Just for a moment, before she turned to start leading the way out of the kitchens, and out into the hotel proper. In the back of her mind, she was very aware that she'd given him some personal things. Likely the only things that could even be termed as 'personal', and they'd come from her life before she'd been Eris. She didn't know if he'd looked, if he'd cared, or anything, and wasn't going to ask him, either. Maybe he'd just thrown them away, kept the money and jewels and called it good. It wasn't as if Brett could be termed as sentimental. Still, though, it was something she was aware of, and that unknown factor needled at her just enough.

He glanced at the items left on the worktop and hesitated before moving her coat so that it was on top of his things. Hopefully nobody would look twice at a woman's coat here if they happened to come in and glance around. A man's jacket and hat might look a little more odd though. He didn't want 'odd' to be there to catch attention. Course, in an ideal world, they'd be alone here. No world was ideal though, not to Brett's mind. That done, he lengthened his stride to catch up with her, still not actually saying anything. He wondered why exactly they were here, what she was after - she'd not given him a whole lot of information on the phone - but it didn't feel right to ask, not today.

She didn't say anything much for a little while as they walked, and she kept them as close to the wall and away from the windows as she could. Her eyes were everywhere, looking around, glancing in some of the girl's rooms when the doors were left ajar. A lot of them looked trashed, though the hallways looked surprisingly pristine. Like anything bad that had gone on in the place had kept itself behind closed doors. She stopped as she looked inside one room, only outright stopping because it looked worse than the others. She could see blood stains on some of the clothes piled by the dresser, the bed was in shambles, and she could see handcuffs on the bedpost. "...this was always supposed to be a safe place." she said. Her tone was soft. Nearly a whisper but not quite, and it didn't seem like she was so much speaking to Brett as she might have been just articulating a thought.

Lots of things are meant to be something they don't turn out to be, Brett thought, but he kept that to himself. It really didn't feel like the right thing to share. Instead, he stepped round her and pulled the door too, shutting the carnage behind it. He didn't have to wonder if it had been caused by the cops or not. He knew that it wouldn't have been. He'd heard the sobs, the cries, the occasional scream. Only very occasional - screams were bad for business, after all. They put many a man off his stride, or so Brett had heard in the gossip. Mostly, he had just tried to stay away.

She was oddly grateful in that moment, that he didn't try to say anything, but mostly that he shut the door. She didn't tell him that, but it was something that settled in, making her feel slightly better even if she couldn't have said why. Turning, she headed towards the stairs. They'd have a few flights to walk up, but she knew she should likely avoid the rest of the halls, and she didn't want to take the elevator. Granted, it wouldn't give them away or anything, and would be faster, but she wasn't in such a huge hurry to get up to her quarters again. She knew she had to. One thing they were going to need on their insane little adventure was for her to look the fucking part, and she couldn't do that with what she had. So she was hoping some of her things were still around, and if nothing else, that there were things she could take and sell. But that also meant she had to go back into the room she'd been killed in. She had no idea how she was going to react, and she wasn't in so much a hurry to find out.

Brett continued to follow her, silently, taking on the role that he knew he'd be effecting if this little insane fucking venture of theirs worked out. Of a shadowy bodyguard, walking in her wake. He'd even made an appointment with a fucking tailor for a fucking tux - a proper one, not an off-the-rack piece of crap. She wasn't the only one to be thinking that if they were going to do this, they needed to look the part. He'd booked in for a decent suit as well, something more every day, but still bespoke. once he had that, he'd go looking for premises. He figured that a man in a good suit would be better received in the nicer parts of town than a guy in a suit that rarely saw an iron and probably was still stained with blood if you looked close enough.

The journey up was uneventful, and she made herself not look into the corridors as they passed them. Then, they were up to the penthouse, her quarters, or what used to be them. She got to the top of the stairs, and looked at the wide open space that had several doors leading to different rooms, all of which used to be hers, save for Clayton's.

Clayton. She didn't know what happened to him. Where he was now, if he'd sold her out. She'd trusted him. It had her looking back over her shoulder at Brett, not saying anything. Just...looking at him. Asking herself if she was going to do this again. Even beyond everything else, if she was actually setting herself up to be in a position where there was kind of only one person between her and imminent destruction.

He met her eyes as she looked at him, steady and unwavering, blue to brown. he didn't say anything, still feeling strangely quiet, wondering what she was thinking but not asking. He'd never been this far up in Babylon, never actually been out of the 'public' areas. When he'd been told to pick up her body, it had been in a dumpster. Not up here, which was where he assumed she'd lived. And that thought made him realise that he'd not actually considered her living anywhere. He didn't think too much about the realities of who she'd been and what she'd done before he came into her life, before everything changed. Now, he was going to be confronted with it.

She held his gaze for a few long moments, then looked away again, back towards the doors. She didn't know if she wanted to go in there. If she could. So, she chose one of the other rooms first. She chose Clayton's, moving to open the door up, and she glanced inside. "This was Clayton's room." she said. "I don't know if you want anything." Her voice was quiet. Off, in a stilted sort of manner.

"Is there anything I should have?" he asked her, finally breaking his silence, the first thing he'd said since they'd entered the building. He didn't know Clayton, he didn't know the kind of guy he'd been, or who he was. Possibly the guy was still around, possibly not. Possibly he'd notice if his shit went missing. Possibly not. possibly he'd just put it down to the police going through everything. Possibly not.

"I don't know." she said, being honest. "Take a look. I know there are weapons in there, other things. I provided it all." she told him, wondering if Brett might feel odd about stealing unless it was put that way. Not that it wasn't true, because it was. She had provided damn near everything. He'd been her bodyguard for ages, and he'd not had anything personal, or not much, and she knew Brett wouldn't touch anything personal in the first place. Then she turned her attention on the other doors. There were two. One that was more her offices, and then there was her actual quarters, her bedroom, bath, living area. It felt like a weight was on her chest, pressing in. She held the candle out towards him, so he could have it to go through Clayton's room if he wanted. Mostly she knew she was starting to shake a little, and she didn't want the candle giving that away.

"Weapons I have," he told her, taking the candle. he didn't want some other man's shit unless it couldn't be gotten anywhere else, or only for a price they couldn't afford to pay. He wasn't going to just take things because they were there. He didn't make a move towards Clayton's room, instead waiting with her to follow wherever she went.

She kept looking over at the doors, and felt less and less like she could breathe. She made herself walk closer, though she stopped a good few feet back from the doors. She wanted to go into her office, but she knew even if there were things in there, that little would be of use. Plus, the police probably had cleared out everything they thought looked vaguely incriminating, so it was likely ransacked. Which left her quarters, which she knew was the real reason she was here, but it was also where everything had happened, and she...wasn't necessarily doing so well with the idea of going back in. She'd felt uncomfortable going back into Gray's house, and that had been significantly less traumatic than say, being strangled to death. But she could also feel Brett behind her, not going into Clayton's room, which she'd really rather hoped he'd do. She'd wanted him there, but she didn't know if she wanted him to see her like this. It was one of those little impossible scenarios.

If Brett had been a guy more in tune with people's emotions, he might have clued into the issue here. But he wasn't - so, instead, what he saw was two people - one of whom was legally dead and the other of whom was suspected to work for one of the mafia families in town, both having broken through police lines and into a locked building which, officially, neither of them had any legal business being in, in the middle of the night and here they were, having put themselves into that highly suspicious and potentially arrestable situation, standing around idly in a dark corridor by the light of a candle for no apparent reason. "We going in then?" he asked her, gruffly, after a long period of silence.

His tone grated against her. Like this should be easy. Like returning to the place where her entire life crashed and burned was something she needed to get a move on with. "If you've got someplace pressing to be, Trent, you can always leave." she said, voice quiet. She didn't look back at him as she said it, her eyes still on the door. "Take the candle, I can find my own way out." she added, walking forward and opening up the door to her quarters, not letting herself hesitate as she did that and walked through into the room, even as memories flashed through her mind.

Generally, she didn't remember much of the event itself. Little bits and pieces, just snatches, really, broken little shards that didn't quite fit together correctly. Being in the room again though, filled in more blanks, even if it was still a disjointed mess. The laughter she'd heard before was clearer, an echo in the back of her mind.

He paused, then stubbornly followed her into the room. "I'm not leaving you, Princess," he told her, though he stayed back a little, away from her. He didn't like being dismissed, he wasn't going to start doing what she said just because she said it, and he didn't, in fact, trust her to be able to find her own way. Though, he knew, she had old memories of this place to guide her. She was unlikely to get lost here. Still, he'd developed habit now, they were hard to shake. And then there was the other - there was the fact that he didn't want to leave her. he wasn't dwelling on that one too hard.

Now you assure me of that. Couldn't you be more of a bastard tonight and leave? went through her mind. That sure, now he was going to stick around. Right when she was feeling most vulnerable, and she hated it. The room looked like it had been gone through, though a lot of it was still intact. Mostly it was drawers had been pulled from their chests and rooted through, her cabinets were all standing open, there were odds and ends strewn across the floor. She saw a few things that weren't hers, but she recognized as Rosaline's. Figured, really. She would have wanted to step up, fill Eris' shoes. Not that Eris ever believed that Rosaline had what it took, and turned out she was right. Realizing that she hadn't moved any further in, she forced herself to do so, walking directly to the liquor cabinet, where there were a few bottles still there. Taking a decanter that was real crystal, she poured herself a drink and knocked it back, before she poured herself a second one. She'd have drank straight from the bottle, but those bottles weren't designed for that.

Brett looked around the room, which had been well and truly gone through - and by someone who didn't give a damn. That, he figured, was definitely the cops. He'd done it himself in his day - it was a message, as well as a search for information. Just in case the case didn't hold water, when you knew you'd got the bastard, especially when you weren't sure you could get it to stick. The message that was 'see, we can come in here, and we can fuck things up for you, really spoil your day, just with a little piece of paper, so you'd better watch your step you little shits, because you can be sure we will be'. He glanced back at her in time to see her pouring the second drink, and he walked over, reaching for the decanter, to take it off her, in case she felt the need to neck that one and go for a third.

She knocked back the second drink just as fast as she had the first, and while she didn't actually try to keep the bottle when Brett took it from her, that didn't mean she didn't go for a different one. She needed the edge taken off, wanted to be fuzzy. Why the fuck hadn't she had a drink before she even came here in the first place? Because she'd thought she'd be less effected by this, that was why. Because she'd thought she could handle it better, and that was a bloody pipe dream.

Brett's other hand settled over hers as she went for the other bottle. He put the one he'd been holding down and took her by the waist, turning her away and towards him. "Now's not the time for getting drunk, Princess." He needed her with her head on straight and she had to know that they were on dangerous ground here. As far as he was concerned, they needed to be doing whatever the fuck they were here to do, then getting out, not pissing around getting drunk and dulling their senses.

She didn't say anything for a few moments, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, though it wasn't steady in it's exhale. She drew in a breath and opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but didn't. She didn't know what might come out of her mouth if she did start speaking, and didn't trust herself. At least he hadn't been rough with her. His tone hadn't been harsh, and neither was his hold on her. Being manhandled at this particular place and time would be bad.

"Not all the cops will be at that fancy party," he reminded her, keeping his voice low, his tone steady. A lot of his usual ire was missing, and he sounded almost subdued right now. It was an odd tone on him. "And even if they are, we won't be the only ones to figure out that this place'll be quiet tonight. And that ball's being thrown by the Walkers, which means the O'Malleys and the Syndicate won't be anywhere near it, which means that if anyone's gonna come here looking for anything, they've got tonight free. So, you need to be sober, and we need to get a move on. Here's a bad place to get caught out," he pointed out to her. Though, really, for them anywhere would be a bad place to get caught out.

"I know." she said. Because really, she did. She didn't need him to tell her, though she supposed, at the moment, maybe she needed the reminder. "I know, I know." she nodded, tone quiet and she looked away, back into the room. "I just really don't want to be remembering what happened here, and the blanks are filling in and they're not really nice ones." she said.

"We'll take a bottle with us - you can have a drink later," he promised her, having paused a moment for that to sink in. He didn't ask what the blanks were - if she wanted him to know, she'd tell him. If she didn't want him to know, she wouldn't. He wasn't feeling in a place where he could be comfortable prying into her past right now.

"We...we need any clothes we can take, jewelry. Anything we can sell or might look good in the new place." she said, trying to focus past things, nodding when he said they could have a drink later. Sure. Whatever. It wasn't helping her now. And right now, he was still right, and they still needed to get their shit done and get the fuck out. Having a breakdown at the moment wasn't going to help either of them. "I have to look the part. I have to...have her things, and I need...just...let's take what we can." she said, still making an attempt to hold it together, she just knew she wasn't doing that good a job. Not as well as she'd like, anyhow.

That, he could do. 'Take everything' he could definitely do - as long as she didn't want him to make choices about quality and fashion, he could pile things into bags, that was for sure. Getting said bags out without people noticing would be harder, but not impossible, and he turned to go find something along those lines - carrying bags was a lot less suspicious than walking down the street in the rain with armfuls of dresses and whatever else she had.

Eris looked around, and headed towards her jewelry cabinet, and opened it up. A lot was picked over, but she'd had tons, so there was still a lot to take. Taking a pillow from the bed, she took the case off...red silk...and she started dropping handfuls into it, not fussed about being careful at all. It was something to do, something to concentrate on, and she needed that. Especially with the memories of everything still assaulting her.

He found cases inside one of the closets. Possibly they'd been stored on the top shelf, but now they were on the floor, opened up, empty. That was fine - that was how he wanted them as he started taking dresses off hangers and packing them away. He hardly paused to look at them, noting softness, colour - but at the end of the day, clothes were clothes. These were just probably more expensive clothes, and he figured he could appreciate them when she was wearing them.

Getting the jewelry taken care of, Eris grabbed another pillow case and started throwing make up and everything from her vanity that she could fit in there inside of it. Perfume, finer pieces of jewelry, hair clips and other ornate combs, all things she'd eventually need to play her part. The part she still wasn't sure she could play, or that she even especially wanted to. It was just all she had left, really. That or creative suicide, and apparently Brett wasn't letting her do that. She did stop and catch her reflection, though, dim as it was in the candle light. She could still see it, though. And she stopped, eyes on the marks around her neck, and she stopped everything she was doing, looking like she was transfixed.

Brett pressed his weight onto one suitcase to close it, then started on the other - they were both full of dresses, he'd even managed to stuff in a couple of furs he'd found. All fancy stuff - or what looked fancy to his eyes. Hopefully it would be enough. He paused, all his weight on the second suitcase, but he stopped struggling with the catch as he realised she'd just ...stopped. "..." he opened his mouth to say something, but wasn't sure what to say, so, in the end, said nothing.

She didn't notice at all that he was even watching her. She was still looking at her reflection, and she tilted her head a little, watching the way the scar wound around her neck. And, without warning, she lashed out, and slammed the side of her fist into the glass, shattering the mirror. Pretty much like she had with the mirror at her loft. Then she turned away abruptly and took up the pillowcases she'd filled. Crossing through the room, she needed to be out of it, even if she belatedly remembered she needed some things in the bathroom as well. Fuck.

Brett hammered the catch down and was on his feet and with her before she'd gone too far. "Woah, okay, Princess," he said, catching her and going for her hand. There was a certain amount of 'what the fuck?' in his tone, though pretty much balanced out by some genuine concern. To be certain, she was acting really strangely tonight and he was pretty quickly coming to the conclusion that what he really wanted to do right now was to get her the hell out of there.

She pulled back a little when he went for her hand, though didn't make enough of an effort to stop him. There was some minor bleeding there, nothing too bad or deep. She barely noticed it, really, it wasn't concerning her in the slightest. "There are some things in the bathroom I need, I just need another case, and we can go." she said, as if she hadn't just lashed out irrationally and her behavior wasn't a little all over the map. She wasn't looking at him, not necessarily that she was pointedly looking away--she wasn't, she was just not laying her gaze on him, it was over towards where she knew the lights had gone out.

"You want me to get them, or do you want to?" Brett asked her, simply. he didn't ask her about what she'd just done, he wasn't going to give her the third degree about her reasons why. She'd been acting fucking off since they'd got here, it was making him twitchy, he didn't like it, he wanted to leave. he wanted her to leave. Both of them. Get in, get what they needed, get out. "There's another case in the closet," he added, gesturing back to where the two full ones lay, and where there was a smaller, empty one on the floor.

"...you can." she said, voice distant. "Bath oils, lotions, all that...just...take whatever looks expensive." she told him, moving away from him, towards the door. She still had her two pillowcases full of things, but getting out of the room, that would be good just now. Out of the whole building would be best, really. Thoughts of burning it down were dancing through her mind again. Just torching the place. it wouldn't be that hard, she could probably do it herself, really easily.

He saw she was leaving already and swore almost inaudibly, beneath his breath as he quickly grabbed the case and headed for the bathroom. He blinked in surprise at the sheer amount of bath-crap in there, but just swept as much of it up as he could, closing the case and heading back out. She'd left him with a real fucking balancing act - one he didn't appreciate as he tried to carry three suitcases, a candle, and get through a doorway to catch up with her. "Look, sweetheart - you're gonna have to take something here," he told her as he banged against the doorframe and the flame wobbled in his hand.

She looked back from where she'd been, staring into Clayton's room. Walking back over she took the candle, and moved things around in her grasp so she could take a case. "Do you know if he sold me out? Did you ever hear anything? You had to have heard something. People talk, I'm sure they bragged about it. Me. Was he in on it? Clayton? Did he let them in?" she asked, finally looking at him again, even if it was difficult to make herself do so. She'd spent a lot of time not looking into her own death. She hadn't wanted to know, hadn't wanted to really go there, but right now? Being back here? It was really really fucking important.

Rebalanced and less likely to drop something and burn the place down, Brett could concentrate on the question. "I don't know, sweetheart. You? This? Wasn't a topic I got into if I could avoid it. Sure, I heard shit - sure, they... Bragged about shit, but I didn't ask, I didn't encourage them to go into detail." It had, in fact, been a subject Brett had tried very hard to stay away from. Much like he'd tried hard to stay away from Babylon itself. It was all too close to home in those days when he was spending some nights trying to stop her sleeping in a tub, and arguing with her over medication. In the days when gray called him in whenever the doc couldn't cope with her 'turns' as he used to call them. Why the fuck ever he thought Brett would be able to do better, he would never understand. Except, well, he had done better, hadn't he?

"I need to know. I need...he was the only person I even close to trusted, and he wasn't there. I don't know where he was but he was gone, and I was waiting for him to show, and he didn't, and then everything went dark and--" she broke off, turning away again and she looked back into the room once more. "He should have been right here. In the next room, he would have heard all of it." she said. She looked up, towards the ceiling, then back down the steps again. "You should get out of here. I'll follow in a while. Go back to the loft. But you should go."

Brett didn't budge. "I'm not leaving you, Princess," he told her, repeating what he'd said earlier. He got, now, what must have happened. This had been it - then they must have carried her out. or they got her here, then took her out. Though, really, she would have been kicking and screaming in that case. He'd always thought they jumped her in an alley, followed her. he hadn't realised that it was here.

"I'm rather planning to burn the building down, Brett, and something tells me you wouldn't want to see that. Or be anywhere near it." Then she paused, and she looked over at him for a long moment. "I don't want to put you in that position." she corrected herself, putting the responsibility where it belonged. She was concerned about him. So...at the moment she was willing to share that, at least in some capacity. She was aware of what she wanted to do here, and...yeah. She'd seen the burns, felt them. No way did she want him anywhere near another burning building.

Brett took a long breath it and let it out again. She was going to burn down the building. because that was a sensible plan because...? "Princess - you don't need to do that," he tried, though he figured that she'd do it unless he hauled her over his shoulder and carried her away. And he couldn't do that this time - not with three bags and two pillow cases to carry whilst she'd be fighting him, at least. Still, it was another fucking suicide mission, or could be. he couldn't just walk away from that.

She shook her head and kept her eyes on him. "No, I think I do." she said. "I want to. I want this whole place and everything in it to burn. I want it to be ashes. Just...I'm sorry, I know this probably doesn't make sense to you, but..." she shook her head again, and looked away for a moment. "I'm not sure you could. I just don't want you in the middle of it either. As someone right now going through a whole lot of kicked up traumatic memories, I'm not eager to inflict that on anyone else." Specifically him.

Brett looked at her, not moving. "You're making this about the fire?" he asked her. He knew she didn't know what had gone down there - just the after effects. She'd felt the scars, but he'd never told her the story. Not all of it. "You're making this about me?" An edge came into his tone as he looked down at her. "You burn down this building and half the town's gonna come running in short order. And the cops are gonna be looking for the arsonist. And you don't think that Jackson's gonna have a number one door to come knocking at? Princess, I don't think you should do this, but don't make this about me - you shouldn't do this because it's a fucking stupid move to make. For you."

"I'm not making it about you, I'm considering you. There's a difference." Eris said, because there was a difference. "And yeah, he'll come knocking. Which he's going to do anyhow, because last time his drunk ass came pounding my door down, in the middle of the day, loud as all fucking hell, he told me he wants me to leave. He wants me gone." Then she looked back to him. "Arson's very hard to prove. And the cops, they were here all day, ransacking the joint, who's to say they didn't put something down on a register? Who's to say the O'Malley's didn't come in and torch the joint to cover anything the cops didn't get the first time around? There are suspects ahead of me. Maybe it'd be worth it to me, even so." she said. "All you have to do is walk out. I said I'd get out on my own."

"If he wants you gone, then no matter who else could be a suspect, you're gonna go straight to the top of his list," Brett pointed out, stubbornly. "And I'm not leaving you," he added, equally stubbornly. There was no way he was going to walk out that door and leave her here, especially not if she was burning down a building. He remembered the hell that was the inferno of a library fire, he remembered being inside there, wondering if he was ever going to get out, if they were ever going to get out. The screaming pain of fire licking up his skin. He couldn't just go home and lie there all night, wondering if she was safe, if the same thing was happening to her. No fucking way.

Eris walked closer to him, feeling oddly detached from herself. Like she knew her emotions were running wild at the moment. But she still felt rational, even if she didn't know so much that she had full control. It was an odd mindframe to be in, that was for certain. "I'm thinking that the man who was meant to protect me, who I trusted to protect me, was in the next room listening to me scream." she said, watching Brett's eyes. "Do you really have to choose now to be stubborn?" she asked.

Brett met her gaze. "Tell me when I stopped being stubborn for it to start up again now," he told her. "What he did or didn't do has nothing to do with the fact that this is a bad idea," he added. What had happened then wouldn't be changed by doing this, and in Brett's mind this was risky and foolish. And he still wasn't leaving her.

When he asked the first question, it actually made her smile. Just a touch, just a light little up turn of one corner of her mouth. He had a point there, really. Brett was kind of incapable of being easy going. "If you don't leave, and let me do this, I'll just come back alone and do it later." she told him. Which she would. She'd just rather do it now, get it finished. She didn't want to feel haunted by it. She didn't want anyone else to come in and try to rebuild. She stopped when she was directly in front of him, where she had to tilt her head back a little to look up at him.

"And if Haas hauls you in for questioning formally? He can do that with just suspicion, you know. Babylon burns and he's gonna look straight at you and all our plans are going to go up in smoke with it. At least leave it until we're set," Brett said - actually almost phrasing that as a request. Almost.

She considered. She still thought that if Jackson did haul her in, he was going to look like an idiot. Especially with all the other bigger fish out there that would be suspicious ahead of her. It would be quite clear that it was just a personal grudge that he was nursing. Though if he hauled her in and kept her overnight, even if he didn't get a word out of her, it might still mean that she'd get killed while in custody. Which would probably make Jackson's day. "You know he's going to be a problem regardless of what I do." she said. Which they'd discussed before, and that was before he'd landed her with the whole 'by the way when this is over I want you gone' thing.

"I know, but that doesn't mean that we have to hand him excuses to be a problem," Brett told her. "And sooner or later... I'll go talk to him. He'll listen to me, but right now - I can't be seen talking to the cops. Not seeking out and talking to the cops." That wouldn't stop Jackson finding him, he knew, but at least if it was that way he'd have a fighting chance of talking his way out of it if he was seen.

"What are you going to say to him?" she asked. "I'm not sure anything you do have to say will have any impact on this." she said. "...if you bring me up at all or not." Not that she knew what he might say that didn't have to do with her that might alleviate the problem, but maybe he would try manipulating the man, just redirecting him. She wasn't under the impression redirection was going to be much of an option. Not with his drunken visit.

"I don't know - point out to him that if he brings you down, that he brings me down as well?" Brett suggested. Of course, he'd have to convince the guy that he wasn't going to be returning to the force first. That one might have to be battered home. Reality and Jackson Haas were sometimes pretty far apart.

"He wouldn't have to. He could just nail me for whatever he wanted, and leave you out of it. After all, you're his friend, aren't you?" Eris asked, though it was rhetorical. "You know things happen that way. People look the other way all the time, and if he wants to, he could do anything he wants to me, and it won't really touch you. One of us is much more in the clear than the other, and...you may want to consider that." she told him. She knew it had been on her mind. And now, standing in Babylon, Clayton's room right there, she was very much thinking it again. Not fair, for certain, but on her mind.

"Not what I meant, Princess," he said. "What we're setting up? I need you for that. Can't do it without you. Jackson screws with you and he blocks that for me. I just gotta make him see it that way." He had to make the guy see that she was important, that whatever personal vengeance crap he had going needed to be directed elsewhere. There were plenty of pimps in the city, he could go screw with one of those. Babylon was gone now and Brett was so very good with that. Goal achieved, on a number of levels. Haas needed to leave her alone now.

Eris was quiet for a long moment, mind ticking over certain things. She kept the candle away from him, but leaned in a little closer, pushing up on her toes to brush a kiss against his skin, just beneath his jawline. Then she drew back, and stepped around him to start down the steps. "You understand you'll need a plan B." she said. "A contingency plan in case I'm killed, or prosecuted for something. Not that I'd actually last long enough to get prosecuted properly, mind, but still." she said. "Considering your role in things, you could very well be left alone. Clayton was, yes? Those were his things in there, I imagine that it would have been cleaned out if a new owner was there."

Brett didn't, in fact, have a plan B. He wasn't very good with plan B, he never had been. It was the really huge downfall of having the kind of mind that decided on something and then bullishly saw it through, no matter what. Of his particular brand of stubborn. It didn't allow for contingency plans, because that would be admitting the possibility of failure. And he didn't do that. It wasn't until things actually up and went horribly wrong that he could actually make the decision about what he was going to do next. "We should go," he said, not wanting to get into that since he didn't have an answer for her. Plus, she wasn't talking about arson anymore, so he was taking his chance there.

"I know, darling, that's why I'm leaving." she said, not pointedly, from a few stairs down, and she waited for him. She didn't look back to make the point that she was waiting for him, but she was. "You could take over the business on your own. Once established properly, you'd still be able to do a decent business even without the parties and elbow rubbing with the town's elite. Though I'd be quite entertained with seeing you in that situation, something tells me you wouldn't quite do well with it. Still, assuming we've set up at least something resembling a client list, you'd be able to continue on without me." she said. "At the very least, long enough that you'd be able to afford whatever you wanted to do next."

"I tried to do that on my own and I'd have the Syndicate on me in two seconds flat assuming that my business was their's," Brett pointed out as he followed her. They'd set this up specifically to work, to put them in an untouchable situation - or, at least, a fairly good situation. Anyway, he didn't think he'd be able to run a business like that, not on his own.

"Possibly, but that depends on how afraid they are. That's what we're going for...for people to know that we toppled those who got in our way or crossed us. Though it's up to you, really. I just think you really need to think about what you're going to do should I turn up dead or otherwise." she said, glancing back at him as they got to the landing. "After all, you are working with a woman who's already been killed once, it's not the best of track records." she pointed out. She'd had her back up plan, it was called a box full of money and jewelry she could use to do what she needed with. He'd need to have something similar, just in case.

"And that's where you come in," Brett continued on his line. "Me on my own, they're gonna look at me and, yeah, maybe there'll be some thought that I toppled those that crossed me - but it was three years after they crossed me. So, more like, they're gonna forget about my origins and just see an upstart nobody who needs to be put down or taken over. With you in the picture, it's much more immediate - they took you down, you took revenge. More than likely, they'll think you took me as well." Brett didn't sound upset about this - it was just the way it worked. Without her he had no believable catalyst for action. He could see how they could get this to work, but to get it to work, he needed all the pieces in play. "I need you," he told her, his voice turning a little more gruff as he lengthened his stride to catch up and slightly over take her as they hit the lower hallway. "So you're just gonna have to watch your back," he added. He didn't like admitting vulnerability that blatantly, or using the 'n' word - even if it was only in regards to a business venture - so it needed to be counterbalanced.

Eris, as usual when he started taking up certain tones with her, blew off the way he put things, expecting it by now, really. So, she didn't actually rise to the tone, she just focused on what he'd said. "If they think I took you, they'll know it was for a reason." she said, following him. "And whether or not you think you need me for this, you still need a backup plan for if I get taken out. End of story, baby, you need to have that in play. Look at what my backup plan did. It had to wait years, but it was there when I needed it." She might have said more about it but she didn't know if he'd looked in the box yet, though she was certain he'd gotten it, or he would have veered off to collect it now.

"I can take care of myself," Brett said, dismissively, more to get her off his back than anything else. If the shit hit the fan, he'd come up with something, but that wasn't going to be happening unless or until that moment. He'd see this through, he'd make it work. Failure wasn't an option and planning for something was merely admitting that it was an option. "I'm going to see a tailor, first thing Monday morning," he told her as another attempt to change the subject by getting them back on track, or what he considered the track to be.

Apparently, she was going to have to do it for him, then. If he wasn't going to be doing it for himself, then she'd take that over, and have to set up some insane 'in case of my untimely death, please send such n such to Brett Trent. With as insane as their entire venture was, it was something that was going to be hugely necessary, but she knew when she'd hit a brick wall with him. It was the tone he used. The 'I'm not thinking about this so I'm going to do the mental equivilent of shoving my fingers in my ears and singing so I can't hear you' tone. Childish, yes, but Brett had a tendency towards being that way when he was arbitrarily Deciding Things. So, whatever, she'd just take care of it herself. "Good." she said, tone distant, though it was because her mind was on what she was going to attempt to set up. After a second, however, it clicked in what he meant there, that he clearly had the money, so he'd been in the box, and that focused her attention on him pretty damn quickly.

"I don't know how long it takes for them to put a suit together, and I'll need that before going on to look for somewhere we can set up, but with everything else that's going on in town right now, giving it some time to settle down some might not be a bad idea," he continued, since she'd not really said anything.

"You've got a better idea what's going on out there than I do." she said, since it was true. He was also in a position to know what was going on in the middle of the O'Malley's, so...sure. He could make those decisions, and she was fine with that. "We're going to need a place to keep my things." she said. "Gray's house is out." Because it had a high chance of getting looted, and she wasn't leaving her good things in a house that was rapidly decaying. It would ruin it, and they needed it intact.

Brett eyed her, finally turning slightly so that he could just about do so, though he carried on walking. She got a single turned look, then he faced front again. "My place it out," he said, though he figured she knew that. Even with the rumours of an imaginary girlfriend, he couldn't have all this shit stored at his place. "You could try Ginger," he suggested. "Though those brats of hers might end up getting their sticky mitts all over it. Or I can get into one of the warehouses downtown - store em there, people don't look in the back."

"I would rather not give Ginger crisis' of morality where she has to look at her situation, and the fact that some of the jewelry in her care has diamonds in it." she said. She'd not figured Brett would want it at his place, and she knew she couldn't keep it at hers. Not with Jackson breathing down her neck. "Is there enough money to rent a storage unit?" she asked. She didn't actually know, she didn't know how much was left there, or even how much she'd put away in the first place. It had been so long ago, and she'd just put things away 'just in case'. It was a lot, she knew. More than enough, but an exact total she didn't have. "Or an apartment for a month?"

Brett didn't look back this time. "That depends on how much it costs to rent a place for a quarter," he gave. Since he didn't know. He knew enough to say they'd have to put down the first quarter's rent up front, possibly with some kind of holding deposit, if they wanted premises, but until he was able to really start looking into it, he didn't know how much that would cost in the areas they'd talked about looking. "I can see if I can get a place for storage," he added. It was becoming ever more clear that he needed to get a very clear handle on business and quickly. He lacked in experience, but he needed to make up for that. he didn't lack on smarts and this was the time to prove it. learn quickly, learn well, fill the huge gaping holes to make this plan work.

"Look into it. Until then, can it be stored in the other bedroom at your place? I know it isn't the safest, but Jackson seems to want to run me out of town entirely, and he has no qualms about coming to my place. Regardless of the fact that these things are actually mine, he'd likely consider it stealing. And Gray's house will ruin a lot of it." she explained. "Just until there's someplace else." The only thing she'd be keeping with her would be the bath products, but unless Jackson was going to be rooting through her bathroom cabinets, it should be okay. And far more explainable.

"I'll take the cases and I'll find somewhere to put them," he told her, not at all comfortable having her things at his place. He could no more explain that to the O'Malleys if they came nosing around than she could to Jackson, after all. "Somewhere safe." He didn't know where yet, but he had a few ideas. He'd find somewhere.

"Alright." she answered, not asking further. If he said he was going to take care of it, she'd trust him to take care of it. If nothing else, it would show she trusted him, and prove whether or not he could be trusted. ...even if it was with such a small matter. She fell silent again after that, letting her eyes travel along the walls as they descended the stairs, looking for places that looked good for burning. She didn't know when she'd take care of it, but she still wanted to. Still planned to. She'd just leave Brett out of it.

He didn't try and continue the conversation as they walked further, and he slowed enough for a moment so that they were walking more together, side by side in the empty hallways. He was still listening, but the only sounds were the sounds of their footsteps. and the weather outside, the rain hitting the windows. There was nobody else here.

Eris took note when he stopped walking ahead of her. So far, in this, he'd been either behind her or ahead of her, but not at her side, as he was now. She wondered if he had reasons for it, or if he wasn't thinking about his position in relation to her. The way she saw it, he'd trudged off ahead when he'd been pissy about things, and that was just his personality. And now, she didn't know why he'd fallen in step. It was odd, though she recognized that it was probably feeling odd because it wasn't as if they walked places together all the time. In fact, they had little to no real experience with that. The last time they'd been walking anywhere it had been when he'd literally carried her back to his apartment. That didn't quite count. "I'm worried about Jackson." she told him, watching him out of the corner of her eye. She'd brought it up already and she knew he'd said he'd talk to him, but she really didn't think it'd be that easy.

Jackson - yeah. Things were complicated enough without having a cop with a personal vendetta against her out there, and from what Brett had heard, that was exactly what it seemed to be. Or, at least, she offended him by her mere existence. Which, from one point of view, Brett got. What she had been, what she had done - once upon a time, Brett wouldn't have given her the time of day either. But the past was the past. He knew what it was like to have your life destroyed so completely that going back was impossible, and moving forward was something you could only do as someone else. Jackson, though, well he clearly didn't get that. That made him a problem. Added to which, the guy could be like a dog with a bone - he wouldn't let things go. "We'll just have to deal with him," Brett said, quietly, his voice deep and low. He didn't even glance at her as he spoke.

"I'm aware. I just don't know if I see a way around. Or, at least, not a way that anyone would be happy with." Eris said. She could talk to Jacob. She could call in a higher favor or something, but she didn't think he'd let go even then. "I held up my end, and he wants more. And he's reiterated. I don't think he's going away, and I doubt somehow that there's anything I could possibly do that would make up for anything." she continued, letting her hand slide down the rail feeling the smooth, polished wood beneath her skin. "It's not going to be pretty."

"You're not leaving town," Brett stated, knowing that was what Jackson wanted now. Well, it wasn't going to happen. "Haas has to learn that the world doesn't run his way. No matter how much he might want it to. You're not leaving town, and I'm not going back to the force." that was just how it was going to be.

"He's not going to take that well either." Eris said, tone light. "And I know I'm not leaving town. I've no intention of that, and I'm not really about to start letting people push me around now, I never did before. My main issue is that I think he'll be looking for absolutely anything to get me on, and if I go to prison, let's just say you won't have to waste time even considering what visiting hours might be." she said. Not that she knew if he'd actually go to see her. That wasn't the point, really, though, the point was if he brought her in, she was pretty sure she'd be dead really really fast. Hell, she might be taken out while she was still in county lock up, before she got anywhere near actual prison.

"Know all this, Princess," Brett responded. It was the reason that he thought burning this building down was a fucking stupid idea right now, but he wasn't going to get them back onto that. "Right now, think the only thing we can do is keep our heads down and our noses clean. Especially you - don't give him the excuse. if there's one thing Jackson is, it's honest. He's not gonna stitch you up for something you didn't do. Haul you in for questioning on something you could possibly be connected to, sure - but there's a line there and he won't cross it. You're not worth it to him. Nobody is."

Eris didn't say anything for a few moments. "Are you sure about that?" she asked. "Because I'm feeling rather fucked over, from this end. We had a deal, and he went and changed it on me. Could be that there are cracks showing up around the edges. Happens, especially in this place. I've seen it before. I'm sure you have. People hit a breaking point, and then all of a sudden, they're doing all sorts of things that would have been beyond character." She knew Brett knew all about that. Knew far too goddamn well, really. "I don't trust that he'll be a stand up guy if he's already changing the rules to suit himself. I trusted him on your word and...well." she trailed off. There wasn't any blame in her tone for Brett--she knew that he couldn't have predicted Jackson's behavior. It was more that she'd done it once and it hadn't worked out so well, so she wasn't really fancying doing it a second time.

"I'm sure," Brett told her in a tone that didn't encourage questioning. Internally, he wasn't quite so confident. He did trust Jackson to be honest. He knew the guy, he knew his moral stance on things. He knew that Jackson wasn't like him - Jackson was a guy who was stronger than he was, who would hold onto the moral high ground and never let it go. Brett respected that, Brett was envious of that. That wouldn't change - it couldn't. But Brett had taken on board how she was feeling about this, and it changed things for the guy. Before he'd been certain that he needed to try and stay out of Jackson's way for the time being. Now, with what she'd said about how she was feeling, he was thinking that he was going to have to find a way to track the cop down without it ending up with him getting himself killed. Not the way he wanted to play things, but the way they had to be regardless. Of course, he didn't feel the need to tell her that. He wouldn't let her think she could get him to do things that way.

"That makes one of us." she said with a sigh, though she let the subject drop. There wasn't much that could be done about it, and she'd have to see what happened. When they got to the bottom of the steps, she looked up and around, just taking in the place again. Exhaling, she turned her attention back on him. "Where's all of this going tonight?" she asked. Really, what was on her mind was if they were parting company now, or going someplace else. Somewhere deep down she knew she wanted to spend more time with him. They hadn't seen each other in a while, and hadn't been doing much but looting here. But then again, did that mean she was making this out to be something that it wasn't? He was the one who didn't want anything defined beyond a biological drive...or that's how she took it. She'd more or less given up the ghost and allowed herself to recognize the fact that she liked him, and wanted to be around him, but she suspected she was alone on that. She didn't want to be too needy. Insecurity--it was a bitch, especially since it was an entirely fucking alien feeling to her. Not one she appreciated. It had her not waiting for an answer as she moved to walk back through the darkened hall towards the laundry where they'd first come in.

He couldn't go talk to Jackson tonight, that was for sure. The guy would be dressed in his best and at the Drake, and that wasn't anywhere Brett could be seen, even if he wasn't going to be talking to a cop. Anyhow, the guy would have been drinking, which didn't make for a sensible basis for conversation. Which brought him back round to the other problem: her. "That depends on whether you're gonna walk away from here," he told her. If he left her, would she just stay, or come back, and burn the place down anyhow. Even though he'd given her his opinion that it was a very bad idea.

She set the candle down on a worktop then the pillowcases next to it. Pushing herself up onto it, she looked around the room. "I haven't decided yet." she told him, being honest. It wasn't like they made a habit of lying to one another, and she wasn't thinking now was the prime opportunity to start. She really hadn't decided, and she wasn't sure she was going to land on a decision any time soon. All she did have in mind firmly was the fact that she didn't want him involved with it. It had nothing to do with him, and she didn't want to put him through anything to do with fire, period.

"Then we should find somewhere to go," Brett told her, figuring that would decide it for her. He could keep her distracted for the rest of the night. Would do, if that was what it took. It would hardly be a hardship - it had been days since he'd last seen her, and he'd spent most of that time wound up and stressed out and unable to show it. They could probably both do with a little release of tension.

She kept her eyes on him, even if she didn't turn her head towards him at all. "Do you have suggestions?" she asked. She didn't. The loft was there, but that was hardly the safest place for them to be, particularly together. Though, she wouldn't really say no, if that was the case. If Jackson showed up after his little party, drunk and wanting to yell at her for things, then fine. Whatever. Brett could...hide in the bathroom or something. Or just say fuck it and tell him to go sleep it off someplace else.

His place was out of bounds. There was no way they could go there. The cops may be busy tonight, but the O'Malleys weren't. They may be imploding but, for now, that only made them more dangerous. Really, he knew that he should walk away and leave her to it. But he couldn't - not if she was going to maybe do something that could jeapordise their plans. And he wouldn't put it past her. He knew that she wouldn't want to hurt what they had going, but if she burned down Babylon, which could have that result, that wouldn't be where her head would be at - it would simply be an emotional response, and he'd seen enough of her over the past few months to know that she wasn't exactly entirely emotionally stable at times, and yes, she was capable of being ruled by her emotions in that way. "Gray's," he suggested to her, though she'd already said something about not wanting there, which was why he added, "Or your place - can't go to mine, but at least the cops shouldn't be watching tonight."

"Not Gray's. I think I've already been down Traumatic Candy Lane tonight once too many, I don't really want to revisit another." she said. "So, I suppose that leaves the loft." Sliding down off of the countertop, she gathered up the pillowcases again, and leaned over to blow out the candle. There was meager light coming in from the windows, even if it took her a second to let her eyes adjust. And, in that moment, she was mildly amused. It came through in her tone. "I never thought I'd say this, but I feel like a teenager sneaking around behind her parent's back with the rebellion driven boyfriend." she commented. "I've never actually had to have a discussion of 'so where do we go where we aren't going to get caught' before."

She actually got a short laugh at that, and a smile in the darkness, just for a moment. "When I was that age, I was never the rebellious type," he told her, setting the cases down to pull on his coat and hat, ready to leave. Of course, when he was that age, his parents had been dead for a number of years, but the one piece of information was more than he would usually give out, so he didn't add that in.

Eris smiled. Brett wasn't a guy who laughed all that often, so it was interesting to hear. In fact, she kind of wished she'd waited before blowing the candle out, she would have liked to catch his expression. At his statement, she arched a brow, even if he couldn't see it, walking over near him to get her own coat. "What were you like?" she asked. "Straight laced, red blooded all american boy?" she asked. I would have been a terrible influence on you. she thought to herself, but didn't share.

"Something like that, yeah," he said, before feeling that push that he was opening up and slamming the walls back in place as he picked the cases up again. "Long time ago now though," he added, gruffly, heading towards the door again. "Things change."

She buttoned her coat, and watched his shadow cutting through the weak light as he went towards the door. She supposed it was a minor miracle she'd got a laugh in the first place, and a sliver of information before he decided he was going back to 'grr you don't know me and you're never going to' land. "Not as much as you'd think." was her answer, though she didn't imagine he'd say anything back to it. Then she followed behind him, glancing back into the room one last time, part of her still thinking if she just left the candle burning, and put it someplace she knew would go up well...but she didn't.