dance in the rain

who: december and nate
where: the boardwalk
when: late afternoon

The power was down. Which meant the only light that was really shining were from lanterns hung around, hurricane lamps lit up, and of course, the absolutely beautiful display of lightning as it streaked across the sky. It was still technically daytime, but it was dark. Dark, and beautiful. There was music playing, and December was actually having a great time. For once in what felt like forever, she was having a great time. She'd taken her facial piercings out, though had decorated her arms with ribbons today, and of course the corset always stayed in. She was out in the proper rainstorm, black skirt fanning out around her a little as she spun in a circle, bottle of whatever wine she'd taken off of some random guy in one hand as she did so. There was music, mother nature seemed pissed, and December was dancing in that fury. She reveled in it.
Nate was pissed off. never mind mother-damn-nature. he wanted to be inside, in the warm. Dry. But he was out here - as if trawling the streets in this fucking weather was actually going to get him anywhere. Plus he was still nursing the remains of a hangover from last night's celebrations. But, orders were orders and he took the fact he had a place in the Syndicate and a job to do with it seriously and without outward complaint. Even if it was a shitty crap fucking nothing of a task, walking the fucking boardwalk as if he was going to recruit anything but a fucking fever in this damn weather. There was hardly a soul in sight.

She stopped to take a long drink from her bottle, and spotted someone else. Not hard, considering the fact that there just weren't a whole lot of people out and about on the Boardwalk, considering the weather and the fact that it was fucking down at the moment. But there he was, looking about as pissed as she usually did, and as he walked closer, she realized she recognized him. She didn't know his name, but she'd seen him around in passing. Konnovich. Someone in the ranks there, below that of her client. She kept her eyes on him, doing so blatantly.

Despite the fact he had his collar turned up against the rain and a hat on his head, Nate could feel the water seeping down under his collar. Not a pleasant feeling, that was for sure. And it distracted him - it took him a few minutes to realise he was being watched before he raised his eyes, seeing the girl there. He recognised her - after all, someone who looked like that tended to stay in the memory. December, he'd heard that was her name. Like he'd heard rumours. He'd never met her in person though. Glancing round, he was unsurprised to see that the only other people around where hurrying for cover. He was going to get nothing done today - he may as well assuage his curiosity. He headed in her direction, meeting her eyes and making it plain that that was what he was doing.

The rain falling on her skin was starting to sting a little bit--which clearly meant more alcohol was needed. She took another drink, keeping her eyes on the guy's since he was looking back. When he got close enough that he'd hear her, she spoke. "Drink?" she asked, holding up the bottle. She was probably the only nutter out there who wasn't taking action against the elements. He definitely was. But she still looked like she might be unaffected, like she was having a good time, and she was. Weirdly enough. But 'weird' and 'december' went hand in hand. Most of the time purposely.

Nate held up a hand. "No, thanks," he said, giving her a small smile and letting some of the fact that he had a hangover seep through. It had been a good night last night, but he was definitely paying for it today, that was for sure.

"Okay, then what do you want?" she asked, taking another drink herself. She kept her eyes on him. There was a light half smile on her lips, the statement not quite a challenge but a little bit of one. He'd come up to her, so, she wanted to know what he had on his mind.

"To say hi - you seem to be the only person who's actually happy to be out in weather like this," Nate pointed out, rolling his shoulders to shake some of the water off his overcoat.

"Well, hello then." December said, then she tilted her face up towards the water he was trying to avoid. "And what's not to like?" she asked. "People scatter, it's power unchecked running rampant above our heads and you can either go cower or enjoy it. I prefer that latter one." she said, taking another drink.

"I think 'cold wet and miserable' are generally accepted as covering it for most people," Nate pointed out, though he phrased it to step away from the opinion a little himself, even if it's what he thought of the whole thing. A lot of that, though, he knew, was due to the hangover. The rest, however, was due to the water trickling in a steady stream now down the back of his neck.

"Guess it depends on one's point of view then." December said with a shrug, not really giving a damn that she was likely in the extreme minority. She was by choice most of the time anyways, so this was normal for her. She tended to view things from an entirely different perspective, she didn't match up with the status quo.

"I guess it does," Nate agreed, not moving despite the fact that he hated the rain. She enjoyed it, he didn't, but he was out here now and anyway, he'd been given a job to do regardless of how unlikely it was to accomplish anything in this weather - he wasn't going to go running for cover. He would stick it out - and maybe, in the meantime, find something more out about this girl. "You don't seem to be one who would be bothered by not holding the same views as 'most people'," he offered.

"Oddly enough? Sometimes things are just as they seem." December said, looking back up to the sky again, then she started to head over to the rail, to lean against that as she got pelted with rain. She was aware she might actually get sick from this--but she had clients who would give her money for a doctor's visit, that she was sure of.

"Are you?" he asked, watching her almost intently. "Just what you seem?" He was aware of the question those questions could lead to, but it that was the case, then he'd take that as much as he'd take a direct answer. He knew only rumours and heresay about her, after all. People talked, his peers in the Syndicate, those of his age definitely talked, and not everything they said was kind. A lot of it wasn't. And some of it, at least, Nate was willing to bet was macho bullshit, bravado and boasting.

Shrugging one shoulder, December didn't answer for a moment, before she glanced back at him. "Guess that depends on what I seem like to you." she said. "So, how do I seem?" she asked, wondering what he'd heard about her. After all, she had seen him before, so she was willing to bet he'd seen her. Or, if he hadn't he was wildly unobservant, and he didn't seem to be.

That was, in fact, the question which he'd half expected, so he answered it almost easily. "That would depend on whether you're asking for my observations on you, or what I've heard from other people about you," he told her. "Either way, I don't know you well enough to make an accurate appraisal. I haven't seen enough of you to give very much more than an assessment based on your appearance and any gross generalisations which I could make from that. And basing my assessment of what you seem on the observations of people I know who probably have had as many real encounters with you as I have would seem to be inadvisable."

December arched a brow. "So you're a sort that actually does things based on actual verifiable information, not heresay?" she asked. "Interesting. Especially since I do imagine you've got a lot of hearsay to draw from." she said. If she had to describe it herself she'd say that she was who she needed to be when she needed to be it, just within a few set parameters. But she wasn't saying that to someone who seemed well spoken and would actually understand what she said. So many people didn't. But then she'd traveled around with a carnival. Education wasn't their top priority.

"Assumptions get you into trouble - most of the time, possibly all of the time, they're wrong. Or, at least, not a hundred percent right. And hearsay is just that. Hearsay - if you believe in that, then you believe that people tell the truth all the time. Which even a fool knows they don't - that's just the way the world works. So, I prefer to actually base my assumptions, when I make them, off something more than what a guy said to another guy he was trying to do one better than," Nate told her, explaining his reasoning.

She actually laughed a little at that, flashing a momentary grin. "How delightfully cynical if practical. I like it." she said. It matched up a lot with her own world view, and in her world view people sucked the majority of the time. Liars, bullshit artists, the lot of them. No one was completely on the level, including herself. So she often automatically assumed the worst of people. She was disappointed a truly depressingly small amount of the time.

Nate smiled for the first time since they'd begun talking. "You approve of cynicism?" he asked her. "Or is it really just pragmatism that you approve of?" he asked, though from the way she put it, he tended towards thinking it was the latter.

"Cynicism." December said. "Though is it truly cynicism if it's true?" she posed. "so far as I've been able to tell, not only are people wrong, they're definitely selling you a line. Everyone wants to sound better than they are. And they'll say anything that they think will sell you on them." she said. "Or, that's my experience anyhow."

Possibly that all comes down to how purely you want to define cynicism, Nate thought to himself, but he didn't offer it up as a remark. He generally kept a great deal of his intelligence to himself, and he wasn't going to let that slip just because he was in a bad mood and so he let the more esoteric thread of potential conversation slip by the wayside in favour of something more direct. "So, is that what you think I'm doing?" he asked her. "Selling you a line? Maybe I don't actually believe what I said, but I thought maybe that it would be something you approved of?" he suggested to her.

"I think you were selling me a line when you said you don't make assumptions." December said. "Everyone does. It's the natural response to situations. And sure, you can stand back and try not to let those assumptions jade your opinion and keep an open mind, but you have to have had some sorts of expectations, some frame of reference to work from." She shrugged. "But if you come at a girl looking like I do without the 'I'm not going to make assumptions' line, then that cuts you off from other things. Could get you shut down entirely."

"Are you challenging people not to make assumptions then?" he asked her. "Or just waiting for them to do that so you can cut them off?" he knew the answer could be 'neither', that her reasons for her appearance could simply be that she liked the look. Though, really, it was an extreme look and he had actually made the assumption that it wasn't just all about her.

"I don't really give a damn what people do." December said. "I'm not really out to 'challenge' anyone, or waiting to cut them off, I'm just someone who deals an awful lot with that kind of thing, for clear reasons." she said. "Do you fill up your entire conversational end with questions?"

"Well, it's not like you give a damn if I do," Nate replied to her, picking up on her own comment. "Though I guess I could stand here and go on about myself. My name's Nate, by the way." He didn't ask her name, he already knew her name.

"There's a difference between giving a damn and finding something pretty fucking annoying." December commented, even if she didn't sound especially annoyed. "Which, getting bombarded every few seconds with new questions that are pretty much just hitting up everything just said? That's irritating, just in case you wondered." she said. She noted his name, and didn't offer hers either, figuring he either knew it already, or he'd have to ask. One of the two. She took another drink, turning her face up towards the rain for a few moments.

"Pardon a guy for taking an interest," Nate said, feeling a spike of irritation despite her tone. He disagreed with her that his questions had simply been rehashing what had gone before - he didn't know her, he was trying to get to know her, it was only natural that he would want to pick up on aspects of what had been said. That she found that annoying had her pencilled in as 'bitch' in his mind, regardless of the way she'd said it.

"So actually have a conversation, don't just sit there and grill me over whatever." December said. "Or, find someone else to get to know. Though your options today might be limited." she said, glancing around. "Though technically, you'd probably at least be able to be inside and meeting someone else, which you might like better. You look just a little miserable." she observed.

"Fine - since my approach clearly doesn't suit you. Pick a topic - what would you like to converse about?" he asked her, not rising to the fact she thought he looked miserable. he was - he was wet, pretty much cold and he had a hangover. But it was too early to go home and he wasn't convinced on the odds of Arienne randomly being in the library if he went there. Not in this weather - her precious family probably thought their little porcelain doll would catch cold if she got wet.

"I'm naturally suspicious of people who ask a lot of questions and don't offer up anything on their own end. Call it an occupational hazard." December said, which was actually pretty close to the truth. "And, how about we start with why you're out here in the rain you clearly don't want to be out in?" she asked. "What's up with that?" She took another drink, the alcohol pushing the cold back.

"I'd hardly say I didn't give back," Nate commented. "I've told you something about my views, you know I'm a cynical type, and it's not like we've been talking for hours. Maybe if you want to know more about me, you should ask more questions of your own," he suggested, before going on to answer the ones she had, in fact, just asked. "I like the Boardwalk, even in this weather. And my father was one of the investors who sunk money into getting the place up and running. He's asked me to keep an eye on how business is going. And he decided that he wanted me to come down here and see how today's shitty weather affected things," he told her, with apparent grumbling honesty, which was, in fact, a mixture of truth and fiction. He didn't know how much she knew about the arrangements down here, and he wasn't about to let slip more than he should. That kind of stupidity could quite literally get a guy killed in the line of work he was heading into.

December smirked. "Well, I'm pretty sure you could have asertained by now that business is doing pretty shitty right now, what with the power out." she said. "So you probably don't have to continue to suffer through the downpour, unless this is preferable to the old man." she said. Which could always be the truth. She didn't know, really. And she did know about who was pulling the strings on the Boardwalk, but she didn't let on to that fact. She pretty much only knew enough for it to be dangerous information, and not nearly enough for it to be useful.

Nate smiled slightly. "True, you got me there," he admitted, before rolling out a perfect piece of plausible bullshit to add to the explanation. "Okay, so maybe I pissed him off just a little bit by having a bit much to drink at one of the festival parties last night. It's possible this whole thing's just his idea of an elaborate punishment." He rolled his eyes. "Sorry, lesson," he corrected.

She smirked at him. "And this lesson, would it be a harsh one, or a mild one in comparison to any others?" she asked. And then, after that. "Does he have people watching you, or something? You can't just have stopped by, seen the obvious answer that he probably could have gotten with a phonecall in the first place, and then head out to wherever til it's time to head back home?"

Actually, for all Nate knew, Iakov did have people watching him. He wouldn't put it past his step-father. After all, he knew the man held a no longer spoken but surely still felt belief that his stepson was a no-hope, useless, spoiled, layabout American kid who would never make it in the Syndicate. Nate could imagine the guy deciding that today was a test, to see whether Nate would stick it out, despite the miserable conditions. "This would be... just a lesson. I haven't rated them in the past. but somehow I doubt that what I'm meant to learn has anything to do with the running of business and investments. And I really wouldn't be surprised if he drove past to see if I was still around," Nate added, though he did actually very much doubt that - Iakov Konovich had minions for that kind of shit, after all.

"So you figure he's just being a dick." December assessed. She moved and pushed herself up onto the railing, straddling it so she didn't fall over into the water. She was soaked to the bone already, she didn't need to take a short trip down into the river. "You could have ducked inside some of the structures to see how the water damage is going." she suggested. "If you needed an excuse as to why you weren't seen standing around likely catching your death."

"You said it, not me," Nate told her, with a small smile, but at tone that stopped short of agreement. Again, he didn't know how much she was involved and he didn't want it filtering back that he thought that Iakov was a dick. Which, really, he was - that and a lot of other, much more potent names. Dick he might be, but Nate needed his approval, and he was going to get it, regardless of what he had to do to achieve that. "And sure, I could come up with some story, but it would be better if he didn't have any excuse not to believe me. I'm pretty sure that his default opinion will be that I bottled it and took myself off to some place warm and dry."

"Yes I did." December said, taking another drink. But then again she thought most of the people she worked for in one capacity or another were dicks. She didn't have an overwhelming fondness for anyone. Still, she was in a better mood now than usual. "So you're hanging around in plain view in the rain to prove a point?" she asked.

"In it's simplest form: yes," Nate agreed. He saw it as a challenge. He might not like it, he might be miserable through it, but Nate was incapable of turning down anything he saw as a challenge. He'd been sent down here, he'd been given a job to do. It might be a spurious job, it may even be a punishment, but he knew that he was expected to fail and therefore he'd succeed.

"Good luck with that." December said, smirking a little and shaking her head. She then looked down at her arms, and adjusted the ribbons there, turning her hand to the side to check one of the piercings in it to be sure it wasn't going to come loose. "So how much is your family invested?" she asked. "That you're down here having to check it out in the first place?"

"As far as they tell me anything - pretty much involved," Nate said, keeping things vague still. he knew he was treating the entire thing a little like a tightrope, at times knowing she may know too much, at times that she might know nothing at all. The Syndicate had put this place back together again, opened it up, but of course, that wasn't necessarily common knowledge. You didn't open a business and put up a big banner reading 'Proudly Sponsored by the Mob' after all.

She nodded a little, eyes on him. She didn't say anything for a few long moments, just assessing as she watched him. "Who's daddy?" she asked. And she wasn't at all sure she'd get an answer.

He wondered whether to say. He didn't have a strict policy about when he gave out his stepfather's surname and when he adopted his mothers, his original surname. He judged each situation on the fly. Both, as far as he was concerned, were accurate. And Iakov was good at what he did. As far as 'evidence' was concerned, he was a legitimate business man. everything else was just rumour and supposition. There was, of course, nothing that could be pinned on the man. Often, for Nate, the difference stemmed elsewhere. When he worked with street kids, he tended to go by Lyons, because the name was nicely anonymous - it didn't have that connection to wealth and power that could alienate those who had nothing. With people at school, he was Konnovich, because that was the name he was enrolled under and if any of them checked that out, then it could cause confusion. Of course, there were exceptions to both. And December fell under neither. But, in the end, her question hadn't been about who he was, it had been about who his father was, and whilst Iakov wasn't his natural father, he was the only one Nate had ever actually known. He was as good as. "Iakov Konnovich," he told her, covering his momentary pause with a casual tone and look, as though this were nothing.

She'd never met the man. But that didn't mean she hadn't heard the name before, or that she was naive to what he did. She quirked a faint little half smirk at him and leaned a little closer. "You really think he's going to take the time to wander down here of all places to check on you?" she asked. "Or are you just scared that he might?" Her tone wasn't actually mocking, though. She honestly wanted to know.

"I'm not scared," Nate said, immediately, almost reflexively. He wasn't - he wasn't going to be fucking scared of anything. But he wasn't going to fuck up his chances either. He would do whatever needed to be done, no matter how shitty it was. "But - he doesn't much like me. He gives me a task to do and he does it already assuming I'll fail." Nate didn't come right out and specifically say that he would prove him wrong, but the hint of iron was there in his tone about it.

December kept her eyes on him, head tilting to the side as she considered that. "And you're going to prove him wrong." she stated, filling in that blank herself. it was the obvious choice, after all. Especially considering his current situation. "You been at that long?" she asked, wondering when something like that even started, but she didn't know the inner workings of mob families. Or hell, even real families.

Nate didn't answer that straight away. It wasn't a simple answer, after all. His long term game plan - as far as Nate ever had one of those - was the 'show him', but some of what Nate had done in the past had simply been reinforcing of Iakov's beliefs about his step son. The grades he got at school, the fact he'd never really amounted to much. Nate had always tried hard to not stand out from the crowd, when he knew he could have done better. And he was aware that for some of that time, at least, it had been because there had been no expectations of him other than that he would achieve nothing with his life. Somewhere along the line, probably since he got back from boarding school and had to actually live full time with his parents again, that had changed. Things had solidified for him, and Nate had realised that if he really was going to prove the old man wrong, then he needed to actually get somewhere, but he'd also realised that his background wasn't necessarily a hindrance to where he wanted to go. "He's never changed his opinion," he answered, instead.

"Doesn't say how long you've been trying to change his opinion. And you're his kid...is there competition? Some older brother taking the spotlight? Or are you a bastard?" she asked. Which was completely prying, she knew, but she was actually interested. And not a whole lot that happened with people tended to hold her attention, so if something was at least vaguely holding her attention for a minute she figured she might as well ask.

Nate raised an eyebrow at the questions, which really, were definitely prying. Prying, but he answered them anyway. "Stepson - he married my mother when I was eight," he supplied, though he didn't offer up any supplementary information.

She nodded. "Does he have any kids of his own? Or does he just like to be a hardass with you?" she asked, taking another drink as she lazily swayed one leg back and forth. She realized she'd started taking the role of a thousand questions, but she didn't draw attention to it. Mostly she wanted to know what was up. She was also trying to think of if she'd ever heard anything about the big man having a stepson, but she didn't think she had. At least, nothing was coming to mind at the moment.

"No, it's just me," Nate said, keeping to himself his opinion that the old man was shooting blanks. At least, he figured that if the guy could have had his own 'proper' Russian kids then he would have done, and maybe he wouldn't have been on Nate's back all the time about everything.

"And so far, you haven't made it that far up the food chain?" she assessed, it being less of a question and more an observation. If he had, he wouldn't be out in a storm checking on business that was quite clearly shut down for the day. "What'll it take to actually stop doing bitch work like this?" she asked.

"You tell me, I don't make the rules, and I don't get to know them in advance," Nate told her. It wasn't entirely honest, but then he was still playing the part of the petulant stepson who was treated poorly by his stepfather, rather than a young man trying to work his way up in the Syndicate. the two had very different answers. For the son, what it would take would be learning to please an unpleaseable father. For the Syndicate lackey, it would be time, hard work and proving himself, showing that he had what it took. Even Iakov wouldn't ignore that forever, for all he'd done everything he could to ensure that nobody could be of the opinion that Nate was receiving familial treatment.

December shrugged. "Fuck rules." she said. "I doubt there are any in the first place. You wanna get somewhere, do something big. Plan something on your own, and pull it off." she suggested, though it was just that--a suggestion. "Take initiative. Show that you've got a head on your shoulder's that's for more than just the use of being vaguely pretty."

He was playing one part, he knew, and she was at least touching on the other. Time to play dumb before he got himself into dangerous territory. "If this is the whole 'follow your dreams' speech, then I don't need it," he told her, pulling his jacket closer around his chest. "You don't know my situation and you don't know my father." He tilted his head to the side slightly and looked at her, as though something had just occurred to him. "...Do you?" he asked. he knew something of her reputation, after all, for all he'd said earlier about not making assumptions. Now seemed like a good time to play that card.

"I don't do dreams." December said. "So, no, it's not really a follow your dreams speech. It's a 'get the fuck out of the rain, you don't like it' observation with unsolicited advice tacked onto the end of it." she explained. "And no, I don't, but that doesn't mean I don't know the type, either." she said, and that was purely honest. "You want to get out from beneath someone's bootheel, you prove to them it's a very bad place to try and keep you. There's just more than one way to do that."

Nate very much intended to do just that - he just didn't intend to advertise the fact ahead of time. He had ambitions that were rather higher than the 'be accepted into the Syndicate' goal Iakov was aware he had and which his father was making hard for him. No, Nate was aiming higher, much higher, and he didn't want Iakov to be able to view him as a threat at this stage. not whilst Nate was still crushable. No, Nate wanted to stay seemingly harmless, someone to write off, until it was too late. "Okay, how about you keep your advice to yourself," he said, not snapping, but far from encouraging her at all.

December took another drink from the bottle and shrugged. "You're the one wandering around miserable in the rain." she pointed out. "Just thought I'd help. Which, generally, isn't something I do, so, guess this would be why." she said, and she hopped down from the rail, starting to walk away. "Good luck with that not being squashed like a bug thing." she said, tone pretty much conversational the whole time.

Nate watched her walk away, then turned and headed off in the opposite direction. "Trust me," he said to himself, once she was firmly out of earshot - not hard in this weather. "I'm not going to need luck."