Spruced Up

There was no hiding the fact that Eric Martens just didn't quite blend into the crowd. Maybe it was his suit, somewhat worn and out of style. Maybe the permanent shadow on his cheeks and jaw that said he hadn't paid for a barber's shave in a decade or more. Maybe it was just the way he was abusing the open bar, drinking free scotch with a private smirk as he barraged city officials with questions and opinions. Whatever it was, he knew he wasn't blending. It was why he'd wanted to come here.

It had been December's suggestion, and Eric wished she could be here to watch the councilman he was talkign to now as he squirmed under Eric's lecture about the war effort overseas. "... is why you don't know a damned thing about prolonged fronts of combat, sir," he said, derision dripping on the last word before Eric spotted Brett in a rare, free moment. A moment he just had to take, if only to get a personal encounter with the man Eris held in such high regard. Moving away without another word to the councilman, Eric deposited his glass on a server's tray neatly.

"Another over here, less ice," he instructed as he moved up to Brett, nodding in greeting. "Best hope and pray they don't smell blood in the water, they'll be hounding you until sunrise," Eric advised gamely, lighting up a smoke and offering the pack to Brett with a familiarity that seemed genuine. "How're you holding up so far?"

She was doing her best to avoid feeling out of place, but Marian couldn’t help it. She was still in Shoshannah’s dress, moving slower than usual in the shoes that pinched her feet a little, but it was worth it. When she put it on again, she was surprised at how the dress clung to her curves, the way the pale tan color looked against her skin and the way the beading glinted off the lights of the ball. With her hair half pinned up and the drop pearl necklace around her neck she actually did feel like she blended in. At least she looked the part.

Marian swallowed her nerves and half the glass of champagne in her hand before leaving Alec’s side and wandering towards the guest of honor. She’d been watching him since she walked in, always looking over her shoulder to keep tabs on where he was and waiting until he was mostly alone before she approached him. This was a big deal, this could make or break her career. It was hard to move in the dress, but she did her best, sliding up near him before she spoke. “Mr. Trent?”

To say that Brett was having a good time would have been a lie. but then again, he never expected to. He hated these events, avoided them wherever possible - unfortunately, this one was not avoidable. Fortunately, his albeit short time spent with Eris had taught him a lot. He was a quick study when he wanted to be, and she’d taught him more about dealing with polite society than she probably realised. As such, he hadn’t snapped at anyone so far this evening, and he was managing rather well. As he heard his name spoke, to attract his attention, therefore, he turned, his face composed into an expression of blank politeness which sat well with his general appearance. He’d, for once, shaved and the tux he wore fit him like it had been made for him - which, in fact, it had. The only thing that was slightly off beat about his appearance was the tie he was wearing. Rather than the standard black bow-tie, he’d chosen standard length blue silk instead. That said, though, the colour set off his striking blue eyes, and, if one were to look closely, perfectly matched the blue sapphire cufflinks he was wearing. Of course, if one were looking that closely, one may be of the opinion that the quality of his attire was somewhat better than one would expect from a policeman’s salary in the city. “Yes?” he asked, with a tone of polite disinterest. He didn’t know the girl, and he considered his first rule was still the same: don’t give anyone any encouragement to want to ask questions. Some things always stayed the same, after all.

Marian opened her mouth to speak but it took just second to focus on more than his eyes. Grainy newspaper photos really didn’t do the man justice at all. “I...” she started then got a handle on herself. “Marian Grady,” she said offering her hand to shake. “I was hoping to meet you.”

Brett shook her hand. “You and everyone else here tonight,” he observed, glancing at her champagne, reminding himself that that was one of those things - make sure the lady has a drink, even if you’re pointing out she’s nothing special right now. The name didn’t ring any bell - or set any alarms going either. She looked a million dollars in that dress with her hair that way. But then so did most of the women in the room. Efforts had certainly been made, and he was strangely glad of the suit, even if he’d had to go back tot he apartment to retrieve it. At least he didn’t look out of place, even if he felt like some primped up pony on display. He just had to get through tonight.

“Right, of course. You are the man of honor right?” Marian said, giving him a bright smile. She looked down at her glass in her hand trying to summon the courage that she never had, to put on her waitress attitude and push forward with the conversation. “I work the with the Echo,” she explained. “You’ve been quite the topic of conversation around the office the past few days. An amazing story really.”

Brett stilled, his body language growing cautious, though that only showed a little, controlled as he was anyway. “You’re a reporter,” he observed, managing to keep his tone neutral.

Marian tilted her head a little in an unsure gesture. “Not really no. Unless obituaries count as reporting. I only said I work there. Mostly, I retype someone else’s work when they are too lazy to go back through and do it themselves. I’ve written a few articles that get lost in the pages and one that actually got some attention. So yes, but only if using the term loosely.”

“So, you just like to introduce yourself in a way that makes people think that you’re a reporter then?” Brett asked her, straight faced. That was the other thing he’d learned from Eris - how to give as well as take from society types. They were definitely not the only ones who could be cutting. Especially since, given her actual description of herself, he’d still class her as a reporter, whatever she said.

Yes, Marian thought. Because it’s a step above being introduced as a waitress. She actually had a job she was proud of and people talked about what they did right? “I suppose I do. I don’t spend a lot of time introducing myself,” Marian admitted. She wasn’t a socialite and if she ventured outside of her boarding house or work it was only with people who were already familiar with her.

“Better make sure that your boss doesn’t mind you doing it then,” Brett advised. “Are you here tonight on the job, or under your own steam?” he asked her. That was important to him. She might just write the obits, but her comment about having stories lost int he pages made him think that she might be after bigger fish, and the Echo had had their story out of him, he wasn’t up for giving them more column inches. No - he wanted to fade back into nothingness again. Now his future no longer depended on society, he didn’t want to get their attention once again. Maybe then he’d get the breathing space to decide what he did want for his future.

That would require her boss knowing her by name which Marian was sure he sometimes didn't. 'Hey you' didn't count. "I wouldn't call it my steam," she told Brett. "I'm here with a friend," she said, not sure if she should say which friend. Alec wasn't exactly unknown in this circle. He was actually closer to the center of it and Marian wasn't trying to impress anyone with her connections, just point out that she wasn't here on assignment. "I could be here on the job if you were interested."

Brett took a sip of the glass of red he was carrying. “Honey, I couldn’t be less interested if I tried. So you’re best off sticking with your friend.”

That actually surprised Marian. It was so blunt without a hint of circumventing. “Why not?” she found herself asking without thinking about it first.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I not want to be talking on the record to a reporter? Or to a reporter at all?” he asked, his tone suggesting very clearly that the answer to that should be as clear as day.

Marian caught herself from answering right away, taking a moment to take a deep breath first. “Yes, why not. You’ve got one of the most sordid histories as a police officer in a while and now all of a sudden it’s come to light that you were in the right all along? How could you not want to share your story? To tell everyone just what happened and how they were wrong for thinking the worst of you. You were a hero once, a man who saved people and then you became something else entirely. I’d think you’d want to set the story straight.” Marian had done her research on him, reading through archives that she was able to dig up in her spare time.

Brett wasn’t impressed that she seemed to already know everything about him. “Lady, all I want to do is my job. Off the record - so no writing any of this down - I don’t give a damn what people think of me. That doesn’t help me catch the next bastard in line. So no, I’m not interested in laying my heart on the line to help you sell more papers. I’m sure the next schmuck will be along any moment soon and your readers will lap it up.”

Marian’s surprise didn’t fade any. She couldn’t believe that he didn’t want to share his story. She could understand why he didn’t want to be used to sell papers, but her investment in it was above that now. Now she wanted to help him. “If you wanted someone to sensationalize your story you’d be talking to the wrong reporter anyway. He’s over at the bar probably hitting on a city official’s wife. I wouldn’t do that. I’m not that kind of reporter.” She wasn’t even really a reporter after all.

“But you’re still a reporter, no matter what you say,” Brett told her, taking another sip of his wine. “And the answer is still ‘not interested’. Not in you, not in him, not in telling anyone anything. You’ve got the official line and that’s my story. I went in, I did my job, I came out. Nothing more to tell.”

"There's always more to tell. And what gets told depends on who tells it," Marian pointed out, but she was pretty sure he wasn't going to budge. He made her feel out of place again and she wondered how he, a cop who'd just spent too long working for the bad guys didn't seem as out of place as she did.

“And if it doesn’t get told at all, then people get over their curiosity. You get that you’re not gonna change your mind on this, lady, right?” he checked. there was no way in hell he was telling this broad anything at all. He was having enough of a time dealing with individual questions, without publicising anything.

Marian highly doubted anyone was going to get over anything. It seemed more likely that people were just going to be even more curious than they were before, but she understood what he was saying. He wasn’t budging. “I get it,” she said half expecting his next move to be to shoo her away.

"Then you'll go far," Brett told her, finally cracking a small smile. "Have fun with your friend," he told her, before he started to move away himself, instead of telling her to go.

She didn’t know what to make of that at all, so she let him go. She’d go for far because she knew to let something go? That sounded like the opposite of what she needed to do. Sighing Marian finished off her glass before looking for Alec again and drifting his way.

The ball was one of the usuals. They always were regardless of who or what was being celebrated. Always the same people, give or take a few new faces. The talk was the same formula that Alec could recite it in his sleep. He wasn’t a fan of dressing up but he pulled it off well, clean shaven and impeccable in a perfectly pressed black suit, starched to military perfection. Nothing flashy. Simple silver cufflinks, bow-tie. What made him stand out was the presence, the way he held himself, the respect shown that came with the name and from being a veteran of ‘their class’. There was a different air about him though. Someone who didn’t care that he was the one people looked at. That it didn’t matter, he was just a soldier.

It was growing increasingly tiresome and he noted the irony. He wanted to be mayor. Being mayor meant there were going to be many more of these in his future. Hopefully, anyway. Provided he lived that long.

He’d been keeping tabs on Detective Trent’s whereabouts through the night, noted the conversations -- especially the one with Marian that resulted in her falling quiet and staying close by. So it was definitely true. The guy wasn’t saying anything. He was good at being passably polite, giving people enough to let anything go but there were definite murmurs about the story behind Trent and the mob. He considered the pros and cons, the difficulties that would come if he asked the man about joining with his ‘mission’ to take down (or at least cripple) the DiGiovanni organization. He made a mental note about approaching the man, the way he should go about it, what he should say, what he shouldn’t say. Making his decision, he left Marian with his brother and sister-in-law, promising to be back shortly and made his way over to the detective. “Detective,” he greeted as he came to Brett and extended a hand for a firm shake. "Thank you for your service. We need more guys like you on the force." His voice was genuine. Alec meant what he said and it was very clear. He could tell this was the kind of guy who didn't put up with BS, given what he'd been hearing.

There were levels of people here tonight, and as much as Brett hated the fact that he did it, he assessed each person who approached him by their appearance first and foremost, giving each one a ‘threat’ level, his approach tailored to that. Male, female, rich, not so rich - it all mattered to Brett. He was playing the game, without trying to enter into the spirit of the game, and Alec’s approach garnered a pre-planned response. He shook the guy’s hand immediately, and very firmly, before letting go. “The city would be better for it,” he said, by way of comment to go with that. “But generally speaking, the force has many more like me. I can’t take all the credit for anything.”

Alec noted the firm handshake in return and was satisfied that Trent had no problem picking up the flow and didn’t respond to who Alec was. Not that Alec was expecting it, but you could never be a hundred percent sure until you went in. “That it does,” Alec agreed, taking another note that Brett’s response seemed genuine. “But they are definitely outnumbered and could use a guy like you. You’re in an interesting position here, Detective. City needs people they can trust on the force and not enough of the good ones are recognized.”

Taking his hand back, Brett paused for long enough to take a leisurely sip of his wine, giving him thinking space before he replied. he knew this guy’s face from the paper, but given the fact that he hadn’t actually introduced himself, Brett wasn’t of a mind to go with that knowledge. “Really?” he asked. “And are you... Something to do with the force?” he asked, innocently. He refused to acknowledge that there was corruption in the force to an outsider, even if he more than knew it. Hell, he wouldn’t for no other reason than a slip like that to the wrong person would cost him his job. And sure, he didn’t need it, hell, part of him didn’t even want it, but if he left it, it would be on his terms, not because of someone else.

The corner of Alec’s mouth twitched in an embarrassed smile. He wasn’t one to forget to introduce himself, but in an environment where he was familiar with most of the people he’d spoken to, he’d fallen out of the habit. “I apologize. Alec. Andrew Ravenwood’s kid brother,” he said, nodding over to his brother nearby. His brother was a district attorney, one known for not being bribed and being hard on mafia dealings. Alec didn’t want to introduce himself as ‘Alec Ravenwood’. That position wasn’t one that Brett knew (Alec figured anyway), wasn’t one that Alec felt that Brett would appreciate.

“So, then that’s your brother’s assessment of the state of ECPD then?” Brett asked, maintaining the tone, yet still pushing for an answer to his question.

Touche. “While I’m not personally affiliated with the going ons of the ECPD, members of my family are affected by it, as well as friends and employees,” Alec said. “As a citizen of this city, I’m concerned with what I see and with what I hear. I’m lucky enough to be in a position where I can filter out what is rumour and what is truth. And what I hear as truth is what concerns me, which is why I’m grateful that we’ve added someone to the force that can be counted on. But then, I guess, it comes down to what’s rumor and what’s truth and from what I hear, you’re pleading the fifth, which gives me a good feeling that I’m right about you.” Alec’s tone was conversation, friendly, but there was a clear and definite note of seriousness about the situation.

“Truth?” Brett asked, latching onto that. “Is your brother currently working on prosecutions of officers that I haven’t heard about?” he asked. Truth, in his book, required proof. Anything else was merely supposition. And he was keeping firm to the line here. Anyway, hell, there could be prosecutions int he works he hadn’t heard about. For once the AG’s office might have got their fucking heads of out each other’s asses.

Alec’s smile sobered some and he glanced again over at his brother and Marian and took a step closer. It was casual and Alec took a sip of his neglected champagne. He could tell that particular bit was of interest, given the paper and the rumors and the stories. “I don’t know about that. If it’s so, I guess you and I would find out with everyone else. But I can tell you that my brother has been trying for years to get enough evidence to take some of those men to court. I’m sure you know them. I’m sure a guy like you wishes that could happen. But with the way things are, no one is going to get the justice they deserve. The legal way. Not that I’m suggesting illegal activities. That’s only a statement,” Alec added on, to be sure that Brett knew he wasn’t making suggestions. “But hypothetically, in your years as an officer. Maybe even in your own case? How often has that crucial piece of evidence gone missing to prevent a trial from happening? Documents misfiled? The guys out there that you’re just waiting to find the one thing to throw at them that will stick for good that laugh their way out the door because somehow they can afford some hotshot lawyer way off their pay scale.”

The question hit close to home, though Brett didn’t doubt for a moment that the guy had no idea what he was actually hitting on, how close to the bone he’d reached. Brett’s own life, after all, had been nearly destroyed by a cop hiding evidence. It had been destroyed for three long years. Years he’d never get back, when he’d done things he would always regret. “You’re asking the wrong person, Mr Ravenwood,” he said, after a moment or two. “I’ve been out of that for a few years now. I wouldn’t know how thing have been operating recently. Still trying to get back into the swing of things.”

He gave a slight nod at that, watching Brett closely. He’d read the paper. While nothing outright said police corruption, evidence recently came to light exonerating Trent of all charges. “I think you do,” Alec said quietly. “I think for three years you knew and anyone who reads the paper knows that nothing has changed in those three years except that the city lost too many good cops, too many good people, to the ones in charge.” Whatever mob, Brett was free to pick, it was obvious what Alec alluded to. “I’ve been home for five? Six years now? All I see are two spoiled children playing tug of war with only their best interests at heart thinking that everyone else is a pawn. It’s bad enough that sometimes I wish I was back in France taking headshots at Nazis than to deal with employees coming to me with their nephews asking if we can put the kid on the line because dad got cut at the knees because he couldn’t pay fast enough.” Another sip of champagne and Alec shifted back on his heels to look steadily at Brett. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t make you sick either. You’ve got more cause to it than I do.” It was all rumors. Alec was taking a big risk that he could be completely, one hundred percent wrong but in this city? There were only a couple options and the last on the list was legitimately lost evidence.

Brett fell silent for a few moments, considering. he’d learned the hard way not to trust anyone, yet this guy seemed honest enough. But fuck, he’d been twisted round before, naive fucking fool that he’d been. People were actors, especially high society types and the Ravenwoods definitely classed as that. Way up there. “What of it? Not saying you’re right, but what of it?” he asked, in the end.

Not saying you’re right, in Alec’s opinion meant that he’d been right. Or at least close enough to the truth that he’d struck all the right chords in hopefully getting on the good side of this guy. Brett seemed like good people. Guarded, out of his element, but that was to be expected and Alec wasn’t going to begrudge him that. “Tomorrow I’m announcing my run for mayor,” Alec said finally. This is where he had to be careful because he didn’t want Brett to go running in the other direction. “I’ve been told by two different people that it’s the stupidest idea on earth and that I probably won’t live to see next Friday. I’m hoping I’ll last longer than that but what I’m going to try to do is shake the tree. Mayor’s a patsy, half the DA’s office are in the pocket. Judges? No idea. The list goes on and no one is doing anything about it. So I am.” He looked back at Brett, respect clear on his face. “I’m not saying this because I want you to go to the Echo and say you give me your support. I’m not saying I want you to work for me, or anything like that. I’m saying this because I want you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that those sons of bitches who did this to you pay for it. That maybe this city can stop being so bleak. That you have the chance to do what you do and that’s to be a cop.” He wasn’t giving specifics of his suicide plans. Of taking out the certain arms of the DiGiovanni. Brett was a cop. “And I’m never going to put you in the position where you compromise your integrity and your job just because some guy who chatted you up at a shindig told you this. I guess at the end of the day, I think you should know that you have people on your side. People who want to make a difference.” Whatever Brett wanted to do with this information, that was up to Brett. Alec wasn’t going to ask for public support or declarations. Nothing of the sort.

There was another pause as Brett took that in. “Mr Ravenwood,” he said, eventually, his tone for once almost pleasant. It was either than or he was going to be very unpleasant and that would be an incredibly bad idea. “I don’t know what seem to think you know, but there’s nobody who ‘did’ anything to me who needs to ‘pay’ for anything.” they all did that already, he thought bleakly. Some of it had been with his support. Some of it really hadn’t. But, all the same, they’d all been very definitely dealt with. “But I do wish you all the best with your run for mayor.”

Well that definitely could’ve gone worse and wasn’t quite the response Alec suspected. He was honestly expecting veiled, pleasant ‘go fuck yourself’ statements so when he didn’t get it, he was surprised. It didn’t show. Alec had been around the block enough times that he kept the pleasant expression going. He extended his hand again, taking this as an unneeded cue to get back to Marian. “Thank you, Detective and the same to you. Be careful out there.” Regardless, ball was in Brett’s court. He could sit at his desk and go about doing his job for the rest of his days or maybe he could lighten up. Thoughts of course were kept to himself and he wondered if he’d hear from the detective again.

This was the best part of being a member of elite society. Dodge had donned his made for him tuxedo, not a prop stolen from the theater or a patched together suit, but a real live tuxedo that he’d had tailored. He was circling and had been for the hour or so he’d been there. The girl who checked coats tried to take his hat but he’d shaken his head and now, even though he was indoors the fedora was still perched on his head. It made him miss the old one that didn’t quite fit perfectly that was worn and a little tattered at the edges, but it had to be given up. Snagging a glass off a passing tray he studied the room from his new position. There were a collection of older women who loved him cloistered in a corner and he had taken a step in their direction when he spotted something far more distracting. Changing his direction with a sly smile he slipped up behind her leaning in close so she could hear him whisper. “I believe you owe me a dance,” he said.

Eily was looking stunning. She had on a dark jade green dress that Billie had picked out for her, with jade jewelry to match. It wasn't jewels dripping from her neck or anything, really just a simple if elegant pendant that hung in the hollow of her throat, but it set her off nicely. Teardrops of the same shade dangled from her ears, and she had her hair pinned up, twisted in a few places to let a few waves fall down the back of her neck. She was smiling and the like like she was drunk, giggling like she was--even if she wasn't. She was playing a part, she just didn't want to actually fall into that trap. She had things to do tonight.

When she sensed his presence, she had to sort of stomp down on the impulse to land a well placed elbow in the guy's ribs--something that had absolutely nothing to do with whoever it was, and purely to do with growing up with brothers who taught her to defend herself. But that wasn't unusual. She'd had to do the same thing about three times already and the night was young. But she curbed it just fine, instead tilting her head a little to the side so she could listen better. "Do I?" she asked, finally looking back. She smiled when she saw Dodge, giving a girlish little giggle. "Ah, I believe you're correct!" she told him, agreeing that she did in fact, owe him a dance.

Dodge took a gulp out of his glass, watching her over the top with a smile in his eyes. “I am,” he said, setting the glass down and holding his hand out for hers. He’d had his boys do a little digging, more out of curious boredom than anything else, but he had a better idea of who she was. He had to wonder if people would talk seeing them together. Not that it bothered him one bit. Dodge had found that he loved the idle chatter and gossip of the upper class. It was so pointlessly stupid and yet everything hinged on it. The irony amused him deeply. “Shall we then?”

"Lets." she agreed, letting him lead her out to the dance floor. She knew that there were a whole hell of a lot of people whispering about her there that night. Most of them wondered how she could show her face at a function like this, at the very least. Beyond that, less kind assumptions were made, ranging from her being a pathetic idiot who didn't understand what was happening, to her having nefarious plots to hatch.

Dodge pulled her into his arms and without much effort fell into guiding them through the rhythm of the dance as if he’d grown up doing it. He hadn’t but it came to him easily having always been light on his feet. “You look radiant,” he told her, voice low enough so only she heard. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

"Thank you, you look dashing yourself." she told him. "And I am." she said, even if she wasn't necessarily. Like she wasn't as tipsy as she pretended, and she wasn't nearly as happy as her constant smiles would have indicated. It was a role, a part to play, and she played it damn well. "What about you? Enjoying the festivities?"

Dodge grinned at being told he looked dashing. He thought so, but it was always nice to hear nonetheless. He was at a point in his life now where he was dashing and not just play acting at it. “I am, though it’s a little stuffy sometimes,” Dodge said, adding an extra twirl for her into the dance that definitely wasn’t something everyone else was doing, but he thought it could use some life. “So is your dance card as full as you assumed it would be? I’m guessing I just got lucky didn’t I?” It was something he doubted, given her family name, but it was a teasing way to ask if he was right or not.

"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" She asked, not answering him at all. "Why? Afraid your reputation is going to get sullied if anyone sees you?" she asked. Mostly she thought it was kind of a dick thing to bring up, since people had been avoiding her. She hadn’t really been talking to anyone when he’d come to collect her, and she imagined he was sharp enough to have picked up on the whispered gossip floating around. But she didn’t sound angry, just like she’d not showed what she thought of him when he’d seen her in the park. Instead she just put on the happy face, and looked pleased to be dancing with him.

Dodge gave her a lazy grin and shook his head. “Do I look like someone who worries about his reputation?” he asked. He also knew his reputation was intact no matter who he danced with. He was new to the scene and no matter what the gossip said about her, Dodge was a neutral party. He could walk away from her and chat up someone from another family without batting an eye. “No, all I see is a beautiful woman who I could dance with all night.” That much was actually true. He might not be able to pull it off with other less interesting social obligations, nor would he be able to go all night without going for the jade necklace around her neck, but he still felt like he should tell her.

"I think everyone around here worries about their reputation, or it becomes 'mud' very quickly." Eily said, quirking a playful little smile at him. "So, I think anyone who says they don't worry about it at all must be fibbing."

“Miss Eily are you accusing me of lying to you?” Dodge asked, looking shocked as he leaned back to look at her. He was playing as well, but he was curious if she thought he was full of it. Maybe she didn’t realize that any reputation he could muster would be an improvement on the truth.

"Not so much lying as stretching the truth." Eily said. "People who don't care about their reputation lose it really quickly around here." she said. "I'm sure you've picked that up." And if he didn't, he was an idiot, but she really didn't think that was the case.

“I’ve seen that’s the case, but I think people still don’t know what to make of me. I intend to keep them on their toes.” He always had before, and he still seemed to carry that natural leadership that had made him what he was on the streets. Out there he’d played above it and he intended to do the same thing here.

"But everything you do adds to your definition." Eily said, following his lead on the steps he went through, technique perfect. "So if they don't know what to make of you--they'll be landing labels on you just by watching you dance with me. And once you have a label, sir, it's quite difficult to shake." He didn't have some free pass that said he could do whatever he wanted, and he could get away with it. High society was swimming with the sharks. They smelled blood in the water and they went for it, it didn't matter who's blood it happened to be.

Dodge smiled at her even if she was giving him warnings. It was interesting the way she was warning him and that alone caught his attention more than the words. “What labels would they land on me for being seen with you?” he asked her, teasing gone from his tone. She’d said it more than once now that she would have an affect on his reputation, not his actions in general.

"You're dancing with an O'Malley, sweetheart. That's anything from mob connections to lapping up the scraps of the police department." Eily told him, even if her expression didn't change at all. She was still pleasant, they could have been talking about the weather. "If you don't start playing it smart, you're going to be out of this little club faster than you can say 'street trash'." Which was basically what they considered her family. She'd had to work hard to overcome that and it had taken her years. With everything out in the open, she was at square one again...possibly beneath it.

“I know your name darling,” Dodge said. And he knew her reputation as well. “But you’re dancing with an enigma,” he promised. Street trash was a step up on street rat wasn’t it? He turned her again, enjoying the dancing as much as the conversation. “I will take your advice to heart though and hope it’s just not your way of trying to get rid of me.”

If he seriously thought being an 'enigma' was going to keep his boat afloat, she'd been mistaken on thinking he was sharp enough to get by. And it certainly didn't impress her, it smacked a whole lot of 'look at me, I'm awesome!' which was irritating and arrogant at best. But, like she had thus far, none of that reaction made it to the surface. Instead, she just gave a near laugh, and shook her head. "Of course not." she said. "Why would I do that?"

“Well I can barely keep up with your beauty,” Dodge said, quirking another smile. “I imagine you could do better than myself. You could only be humoring me for now in hopes to get rid of me later.” He was already planning, already brewing ideas about her. It was like she’d issued a challenge for him to be seen with her and get away with it and Dodge wasn’t the type to turn down that sort of challenge.

"Are you playing the poor sorry me card?" Eily asked, giving a little girlish laugh. "With those handsome features and those pretty eyes? You take me for a fool, sir, if you think I'll believe that even for an instant." she told him, batting her eyelashes.

“Never,” Dodge said with a laugh. “Maybe I was just hoping to be told I was handsome.” The tease was back, but something sly lurked in his eyes. He was plotting again, even if it wasn’t anything criminal, it brought out that part of him.

"What's that look?" she asked, seeing the gears turning. She hoped he was just plotting his next dance, sweeping some old biddy off her feet to get in good favor with someone. But she couldn't be sure, especially with their conversation. So, she did the simple thing and asked, wondering if he'd tell her the truth or not.

Dodge did his best to look innocent, but it wasn’t quite complete. It had worked a little better when he was younger, but his eyes always gave him away and he knew it. He was too wise these days to look completely innocent. “What look?”

"The one where you look like you're in heavy thought, or schemeing." Eily told him, smirking at him as she gave him a cute little look. "What's that about?" she asked.

He laughed lightly, leaning in just a touch in reaction to the cute face. “It usually means I’m scheming.” He wasn’t much of a heavy thinker after all. “Are you going to ask me what about?”

"Didn't I already do that twice?" she asked. She smiled, just as the song was ending, and she started to head off of the dance floor, though she kept with him while she was at it.

Dodge walked with her, not leaving her side quickly though he did snag them two glasses off a passing tray. “I suppose you did,” he admitted as he handed off her glass. “But I’m going to have to keep it to myself for now. It’s not scheming if I tell you what I’m thinking.”

Eily took her glass, and arched a brow at him. "So, I asked twice, you asked me if I was going to ask, and now you're telling me you're not going to tell me anyway." she said, recounting their conversation. "Is that meant to be clever, or cute?" she asked, sounding like she didn't especially think he hit the mark. Still, however, she didn't sound nearly as irritated as she was at the turnaround. Her features didn't show it either, she continued to smile.

Dodge watched her over her glass then shook his head. “Neither. Just honest,” he said finding it an odd way to word things. He hadn’t been honest since he’d left his history behind, but it was what he was being in this instance. He wasn’t the type to playact at being cute or clever. “I’m still sorting it out and I’d rather not share until I have something concrete. It’ll be interesting though.”

"I'm sure you'll think so." Eily told him. "Anyway, I suppose I should go find my friend." she added, looking around for Billie. She was meant to be there somewhere. "Good luck with the rest of your night."

“Same to you lovely,” Dodge said, meaning the compliment. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised reaching up to tip the fedora a little towards her. Taking another sip from his glass he looked around then headed in the direction of older women he’d spotted before dancing with Eily.

It had been a while since Becky had the opportunity to dress up and for all her love of casual wear, she still couldn’t help but feel giddy at the opportunity. That could’ve been butterflies too. She was nervous more because of the phone conversation with Brett and the lack of confidence in the situation it instilled than going to a party dateless. No. She was going to the ball dateless, being interviewed in some capacity, and completely unsure if the good Detective was as surly in person as he was on the phone.

She planned it pretty well, all things considered. Becky showed up in stunning, floor length burgundy silk, long loops of pearls around her neck in fashionable taste, her long blond hair carefully waved and around her shoulders. The dress wasn’t backless, like some of the other women her age were favoring. It was four strips in the back, tastefully teasing. So it might be a few months out of date -- she wore it with the old boyfriend at one of his firm dinners and she’d kept it impeccable, never knowing when she’d have to pull it out again.

Becky felt the curious eyes on her as she came in, carefully scanning for Trent while she made her way through the crowd. She looked like she should be someone, but no one knew who she was. No date at her side was glaringly obvious but Becky didn’t come off as self-conscious about the issue whatsoever.

She spotted him after some careful searching but he was talking to someone and so she moved to the side so she could watch him and wait for the opportunity to speak with him or him to notice her.

Brett was definitely feeling like the centre of attention tonight, even though it was still early on. He was playing nice, though rarely being encouraging, as people approached him, stayed for a while then wandered off. As the latest one did just that, he instinctively looked around, used by now to the fact that there was always someone else. And, of course, there was - a blonde. He glanced at her, noted she didn’t have a drink, and stopped a passing waiter to take a glass of champagne off the tray, offering it to her. “Evening,” he said, preparing himself for the next onslaught.

Becky took the glass and for a moment wondered if this was a test, but then remembered that Mr Trent didn’t know who she was. She took the glass with a smile and a thank you before extending her other hand. “Evening to you. I’m Rebecca Adair. We spoke on the phone the other day.” She didn’t say what. He’d know if he’d remember and she didn’t know if that was the sort of thing he’d want mentioned around these people.

The recognition of her name was clear in his expression immediately, and he took a more observant sweep of her appearance, clearly checking that out before he looked back at her. “Very nice,” he told her, though there was no suggestion that the compliment was meant in anything other than a professional level. She was, at least, off to a good start. In the kind of circles she would be working appearance was, in fact, everything.

Becky had no idea whatsover as to how she was meant to react to that. Yes, she knew who she was, but that didn’t mean common courtesy should be thrown out the window, especially because he just judged her appearance like a piece of meat, professional or not. Not that it was something uncommon, but she’d think with an interview, he’d at least attempt to make her want the job. She bit her temper back though, used to the kind of attitude and kept the pleasant look on her face. “Thank you. I’ll tell you upfront that this sort of thing, I can’t afford multiples of.” Meaning that no, she didn’t have a lot of money and the stipend he mentioned on the phone was important.

“Don’t worry about that,” Brett assured her. “As I mentioned, the cost of your appearance will be factored into your pay. I’m more interested in you and your ability to handle yourself at something like this than whether you’re independently wealthy. Your management skills you’ve already mentioned and I’ll take you at your word on those,” he explained. She’d sounded confident enough with those, after all. Here, he wanted to watch her people skills - even if he was far from expert at assessing those.

Good, because the firm would not have a kind word for her, given the fact that Jesse had pretty much put their boss in a coma... the boss she’d been sleeping with. “I appreciate the confidence,” she thanked. Considering the level of control he seemed to want her to take, it was a risk. She knew she could do it. He didn’t. It was hard getting a proper read on the guy. He still was straight to business like he was on his phone, but also like the phone call, he had her feeling like she was missing half of what was going on. It was easier to compensate for now, especially since she had the reference and she could smile and nod. “How’s this going to work?” She wasn’t an employee yet. She knew what his company did but he surely wasn’t expecting her to start working at that moment. God, that sounded like she was selling herself. And, in a way, she was.

It wasn’t that Brett was willing to take her on trust, it was simply that his general, across the board lack of trust in people meant that he put little reliance on references from strangers either. He may as well take her at her word, and then at least he wouldn’t be harbouring a false sense of security about anything. “Tonight, how this is going to work is that you’re going to go off and meet people, talk to people. Work the room - you don’t have to put yourself out there as a representative of anything, or anyone. Just see how many people you can get talking to. I’ll be watching. We’ll talk at the end of the night, so don’t leave without coming to see me first.”

That was an easy enough task. She wanted to joke, mention that sounded a lot creepier given their conversations so far, but didn’t. Either way, she’d figure it out. “Sounds fun,” she said and finally took a sip of champagne instead of just holding it. “Anything else?”

“Yes, you get extra points if you manage to talk to the mayor for more than two minutes,” Brett told her, before something else occurred to him. “And you’re not allowed to drop my name other than in the normal course of conversation about the reason for tonight’s event,” he said, warningly. Tonight was not the night for there to be issues in that regard.

She cracked a smile at that and decided to take on that challenge but then the warning took her aback a bit. She wasn’t surprised. She already figured that was the case, considering he went by ‘Mr Trent’ in the ad. “I know discretion, I can assure you of that. You don’t need to worry about me telling everyone about this. As long as it’s legitimate and legal, I don’t see a problem in keeping you out of it.”

I worry about everything, Brett thought, but he kept that firmly to himself. “It’s legitimate. And legal. And part of your job - if you’re hired - will be to keep it that way,” he told her instead.

She certainly wasn’t looking to turn something into a sexual service and she nodded. “We certainly have an agreement there. If that’s all, I guess I better get to work.”

“And I should get back to... All of this,” he said, looking around the room, then back at her. “I’ll talk to you at the end of the evening, Miss Adair.”

“Mr Trent,” Becky replied with a little incline of her head, referring to him by his ad name and want of discretion. With that, she moved away and melded into the crowd, ready to get started.

All in all, this gala had actually been pretty entertaining so far. First the encounter with Brett had provided a small mountain of insight for Eric, then the opportunities to make a few of the upper-class flinch under confrontation started lining up. He wasn’t a bully about it, preferring to challenge opinions instead of throwing punches, but every scotch had pushed Eric into a little more zeal so far tonight.

Luckily, he’d started pacing himself not long after speaking to Brett, which meant that Eric was maintaining a slightly-flush equilibrium as he spoke with one of the photographers covering the event for the Echo. ‘Spoke with’ was polite, given the animated way Eric was jabbing at the man. “...don’t give a good goddamn if you saw me speaking with Judge Hastings, you ask before you flash a camera in a man’s eyes,” he lectured, walking away to head towards the bar.

Eily was leaning her elbows back against the bar and she'd been watching in clear entertainment as the rougher looking guy berated a photographer. That little twist of a smirk was on her lips as he came closer, and she nodded to him. "Sure told him." she said. "You realize he's probably just doing his job, and you just scared the bejesus out of some poor shmuck that was told to flash that thing around as much as humanly possible tonight, right?" she asked, not sounding like she disapproved.

“Scotch, rocks,” Eric requested from the barkeep as he stepped over, leaning an arm onto the bar and glancing Eily’s way. Young, somewhat doll-faced, there was a smirk in her eyes that amused him just by being there, an unexpected encounter given where he was. “‘Just doing my job’ is one of poorest defenses a man can try for, and that sad sack didn’t even offer it,” he said plainly, not griping over it though. “I’m not looking to end up on page six with the Walkers, at any rate. And if I do? It’d be better to be next to a lady than a walrus like Hastings, so fair warning,” Eric cautioned, grinning a little. “If I see a camera, you may end up a human shield.”

"Oh, you don't want a picture with me." Eily told him, taking a sip of her wine from the glass she held. "And what are you afraid of? Is it going to steal your soul? Or do you just not like Hastings?" she asked, sounding curious. And in this instance, she actually was, she wasn't just playing a part.

Tilting his new drink back for a sip, Eric grinned at the questions as he tapped a smoke from his pack. “I heard he plays golf with Don Bartelucci,” Eric confided, grinning slightly. “And without knowing for sure on that, I still can’t say I trust any of the folks who make the important decisions in this city. Hell, I’d rather avoid the pictures entirely, don’t want folks I work with thinking I’ve got friends in this crowd. I’d lose all credibility. Eric Martens,” he greeted, the smile growing as he offered a hand Eily’s way.

Eily offered her own, though it was more in the proper lady-like manner as she shook his. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Martens." she greeted, also keeping with the correct responses. There was something in her eyes, though, something that said what she was doing as deliberate, not natural. "Eily." she told him. Then she leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. "Eily O'Malley."

The hints about Eric’s status here were more obvious, from his permanently stubble-shaded cheeks to the lack of cufflinks and the out-of-style cut of his suit, but his bearing was impeccable. “Ms. O’Malley,” Eric said quietly, mindful of her hand in his as he took that in. Numerous as the Irish in the city were, no one with that last name was completely clear of suspicion. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, can’t say it’s expected though. I’ll mind your discretion,” he promised with a little nod at the room around them, releasing Eily’s hand. “How’re you liking the celebration?” Why was she here? She didn’t quite fit, but she could probably blend well enough for most of these folks.

"It's a party." Eily said, smile still on her lips, even as she sipped her wine again and glanced out over the sea of sparkly people. "Why wouldn't I be here?" she asked innocently. Though the answer was obvious. She was at a gathering in honor of the man who had taken her family down. It was probably surprising to meet her here because the O'Malley clan was pretty dead and all. Most of them were, at any rate. "It's lovely. Everyone's just so chock full of good intentions and smiles." she said, though there was an undercurrent of sarcasm. It was just barely there, though, something most people might miss.

Given the setting, she almost could’ve been genuine, but once again Eric could see a little smirk somewhere in her eyes, an extra little bunch in her cheeks maybe. “They’re chock full of something alright,” Eric agreed, grinning wider as he tipped his glass Eily’s way. “I’ll hope no one’s been unkind, though. That sort of pettiness grinds my nerves, and I’d lay cash on it coming less from your surname than from these ladies feeling outshined. Jade suits you,” he complimented, lighting a new cigarette of his old.

She laughed lightly, a girlish sound. "Thank you." she said. "Though some of these hags would be outshone by a weasel in a wig." she murmured, leaning closer to whisper the mean spirited comment. But he didn't seem the type to take offense and all, so she took the chance on it. "No one's been outwardly unkind. There've been some jabs, of course, but I give as good as I get." she assured him.

“I can believe that,” Eric said, cheeks bunching up in amusement. Maybe she was polite and well-mannered right now, but if she was an O’Malley? There was some fire to vent when she needed it, no doubt. “And now I’ll have to keep an eye out while I’m here, it’d be the high point of the evening. Mostly it’s just been me butting heads with the mayor’s lackeys, ruining Dr. Hagel’s evening, that sort of thing. Which, fair warning, his wife strikes me as the exact type to take those jabs.” Of course, that woman hadn’t even lasted for one of Eric’s junkyard stories.

"Truthfully most of them are." Eily said. "The older ladies, that's their bread and butter. They can't cut it beauty wise with the young ones, so they rely on cutting wit and trying to make everyone else seem inferior." she told him. "It works, depending on their audience. I just know it for what it is. A desperate little play, before they really do get replaced with a younger version of themselves."

“These people need something better to do with their time,” Eric muttered disbelievingly, head shaking over Eily’s breakdown of this type of company. “Politics is the pursuit of control, and on this small a scale? These little personal crusades? Well, I hope I get struck down before I need to grab for anything so miniscule.”

It was depressing enough that, four scotches deep, Eric felt like he’d be doing these people a favor by injecting some chaos into their lives. But he wasn’t going to actually do it, they deserved their personal torments that they were oblivious to. “And at the risk of being rude, that’s all the breath and thought I’ll give their ilk,” he requested. “They clearly can’t cut it on any level with you, so until Mrs. Hastings slimes her way over and I watch you send her scurrying off? I won’t waste another second on them.”

Eily laughed a little. "Okay." she agreed, going with that. "Well then, you choose a subject. What shall we talk about, if not our fellow party goers?" she posed, wondering what he might bring up. Either way it was probably a better conversation than most of them she'd had tonight. Eily wanted to fit into the world, she just had a better sort of understanding of it than most because she had to try to fit in. She wasn't born to it, she wasn't raised in it--it had taken effort, damnit.

“How about...” Eric murmured, staring off thoughtfully for a moment. He stubbed his cigarette decisively, tossing back the last of his scotch and standing up straight before he held out a hand to Eily. “How about you mock me for focusing on not crushing your toes, and I defend myself,” he suggested with a spark of humor in his eyes. “Or more plainly, we should dance. I’m sure something’ll come to one of us once we’re in the belly of the beast.”

Eily gave him a cute little grin at that, then took his hand with a pleased little expression. "Why certainly, sir, how could I pass up an offer like that?" she asked rhetorically, letting him lead her out onto the floor. Now in the past, she likely wouldn't have been caught dancing with him, but her life had changed. Her name was already dragged through the mud, a little more dirt on it wasn't going to rate.

Once he’d led her out to the floor it became clear that Eric had been joking about the risk to Eily’s feet. His hand settled at her waist lightly, setting Eily near him before Eric began to step with a practiced ease, moving with the music. It was a benefit of a proper upbringing, Eric had plenty of polished bits of etiquette that just didn’t get used often, this one in particular. He could feel eyes on his back, too, the stare of other dancing couples and onlookers who ringed the dance floor.

Was Brett one of them? Was he watching the man who was supposed to safeguard Eris as he danced with an O’Malley? That’d take some explaining. “Aside from throwing an appetizer at the mayor when he’s not looking, I think this rounds out my evening,” Eric joked as he danced.

"Now you're an intrigue, aren't you?" Eily asked, also following easily with the steps. "Do you secretly belong with the rest of these people?" she asked. "They don't hand out dance lessons for free." Which she knew for a fact because she'd had to take them before, and her father had bitched about the cost occasionally when he thought she couldn't hear.

Eily earned a laugh for that as Eric guided her out in a quick twirl, then back. “You wound me, miss,” he protested. “It’s something a ‘proper young man’ learns in his adolescence, my parents told me back in the day. And there was a time, sure, when it came in handy. Not so much these days, so it’s nice to dust it off.” He hadn’t been out like this in some time, not since he’d been closer to what he guessed Eily’s age to be. “I’m a scrap dealer, Eily,” Eric told her. “I think some of these folks’d sooner jump from the Drake’s roof than have me belong.”

"Which would be surprising and counter intuitive, considering they're kind of scraps themselves." Eily said, teasing with a smile. "But you're probably right. So what does one do with scrap?" she asked, really not actually knowing on that score. She didn't have the first clue what anything like that would have use with. But that didn't mean that having information would hurt anything. If Eily knew anything, you found out every damn thing you could, at every opportunity. You never knew when something might come in handy.

“All sorts of things,” Eric was glad to answer, eyes ticking away quickly as he spied a woman murmuring to her dance partner, then snickering. At least Eily’s back was to her at the moment. Still, Eric took a second to let himself push down his reflexive urge to do something about it. “Some of it, the iron salvage? I can sell to the mills. Some of it gets repaired and resold for a price folks in the Sprawl can afford. The rest, I tend to find ways to fit it together in all sorts of strange manners,” he explained. “It’s a good way to pass the hours when I’m working on the edge of town, if you don’t mind relative quiet. What about you, though? What do you do when you’re not braving the hypocrites?”

"Lately? I attend funerals by the dozens." Eily said, which was perhaps undelicate of her, but she kept her voice down so only Eric would overhear. "I still am working on what my time will be filled up with after that." she admitted. "What do you fit together? What sorts of stranger manners?" she asked, since that was a much better topic than the slaughter of her family.

“Yeah,” Eric murmured, his smile dimming in awareness when she mentioned her family. “Whatever the true account was, you have my condolences for your loss. Family’s family, and that can’t be easy.” You forgave more when it came to family. He was sincere with it, nodding to emphasize his words as he watched Eily’s eyes. A smile cracked after a moment as he moved on, not wanting to force her to linger. “All sorts, really. Some things are just designs of machines I’m playing around with, improvisations really. Others? Well, I like redesigning old devices, creating things from a previous time.” War machines, at that, though he couldn’t really talk up the launcher that fire lengths of barbed wire on weighted caps.

"So you invent things?" Eily asked, checking that she followed what he was saying. "That's interesting. What kinds of machines do you make?" she asked. Inventors, she knew, could make a pretty penny if they got good patents in. If they came up with something society wanted.

Okay, maybe he was going to end up talking. And maybe it wouldn’t be so weird, given that this was an O’Malley he was talking to. Or maybe it would, since Eily seemed more like a sweet, sharp-witted woman than a relative of vicious gangsters. “Weapons,” he said after a moment. “War machines, traps, siege engines, anything I can find outdated designs for. Improving on them’s a good challenge, and I get plenty of land to test them out. Don’t go telling Detective Trent,” he asked teasingly,winking down at Eily.

Eily blinked in clear surprise, not having expected that answer. "My." she said. "That's interesting." she smiled at him in return, however. "I'll let it slip my mind should I have opportunity to speak to him." she promised. Which she definitely planned on doing, but not until later. Not until she could talk to him alone. She didn't have ill plans towards him or anything, but she did have a question for him. "So that's what you do with your time? Make weapons?"

“Some nights,” Eric confirmed. “Others, I make more mundane things, then spend quieter nights testing both out. My custom bicycles didn’t pan out so well.” His focus was tugged away again as Eric turned them to the music, catching another set of eyes darting away as his wandered around the room. He knew there’d be staring, but catching it happening roused his ire. “My catapult came out better, mind you. It gives me what little routine I need, working on all that.”

Eily smiled. "What do you need a catapult for?" she asked. "Or any of the weapons? Are you part of the war effort?" she asked. So much these days had to do with the war effort. For good reason, of course, but still. It was all over the news, all over everything.

She got a smile in kind as Eric shook his head, releasing her as the music came to an end for the moment and the couples around them began to disperse. “I’m retired, actually. They’re more a hobby, something to keep me focused. And I’m a fan of theory, of plotting out the strength of the different forces in town, how I’d take them on,” he explained as he turned to lead Eily off the floor. “I do better work with hard research on what the designs can actually do.”

That had her attention, though to her credit, it didn't seem like anything he said struck a chord. "Retired? Aren't you a little young to be retired?" she asked. Even if he was far her senior, he didn't look old enough to be calling it quits. She'd get back to his theory stuff, though that would be when they got to a quieter area--something she began to lead them to.

Walking off the floor, Eric didn’t answer for a moment as he turned to stare down one of the couples that had been gaping at Eily. “It’s rude to gawk,” he chided, smacking the base of the suited man’s glass to slosh wine out and onto his sleeve. Eric moved on without breaking stride, smirking over the muttered disbelief he left behind. “I suppose I am?” he said at last to Eily. “I’ve got a little nest egg from a patent in my service days, it keeps me comfortable enough to not need to turn much profit on the scrapping business.”

Eily smirked at that, liking Eric's style if nothing else. "Should I thank you for defending my honor?" she asked. Then she moved forward with everything else. Ah, that was it. A patent. "You have anything else you plan to get a patent on?" she asked him. "I'm assuming if you came up with a weapon that would help overseas, they'd pay you well." she said. She started to lead them a little out of the way, more towards a set of windows no one was near. She'd avoided some of the other 'private' looking areas--though only because she knew they weren't private. There was a little alcove by the stairs, but she'd used it herself in the past to overhear conversations. She wanted to avoid that.

“No thanks needed,” Eric was quick to clarify as he followed her to the windows. “For the upper class, they lack some damn manners at surprising times.” Plucking two glasses of wine from a passing server, Eric handed one over as he glanced back to see if he’d have actual trouble coming. “No plans for a future patent, no. My first one took some decent funds to develop, and my own savings are sufficient to live on, but not go through that process again. Plus, my work’s not for sale any more. Not like that.” The way the war was fought wasn’t changing fast enough for Eric, and he couldn’t sell his work just to see it go unused.

Eily nodded, and when she settled in, she leaned one shoulder against the wall near the window, knowing she'd be reflected in it. Framed. "So, you're a fan of theory." she prompted, getting back to what he'd brought up before. That she was truly curious about. That she wanted him to tell her about.

That was a picturesque sight to take in, with the glass blackened by the night outside framing Eily, faintly reflecting the party behind them for Eric to see. If he hadn’t had plenty of drinks to fight for his focus, he would’ve had a perfect view of anyone watching them too closely. As it was, he was just more focused on Eily herself. “I am. Every scenario has multiple outcomes, even the vastly outnumbered force taking hostile territory. We had a branch out in D.C. I consulted on, Games and Theory, that dealt solely in that sort of exercise and developed new tools to solve it,” he recalled as he leaned against the wall. “When I went overseas, I got to put it to use. Served with a regiment called the Arm of Decision, we took new munitions and went to break enemy choke holds.”

"And you turn that on the city. You think of ways to..." she trailed off, making a gesture for him to fill in that blank. She was watching the reflection now and then for the same reasons he'd figured--keeping an eye on their six without looking like it. She might have had more to say, but she didn't want to jade what he said. She wanted his assessment.

Eric smiled again, this time keeping the expression strangely restrained as he sipped his wine. “I think of ways to fight without any of the tools my opponent would have. If I wanted to take on the cops, the mobs, your family’s old associates, how could I do it without leaving a money trail? How could I hobble them with the tools already at my disposal?” he asked rhetorically. “If I needed to, how would I take the city from within?”

"Is that something you'd really want to do?" she asked. More specifically, she wanted to know what his thoughts were on taking down the syndicate. That was what she wanted, after all. Her ultimate goal. If he was serious? She was all the hell over that.

All Eric really had at first was a dismissive shrug, given that he’d never seen an actual reason to do it himself. When the dust cleared, people would look to the victors for answers and direction, and he wasn’t sure he could theorize plans for that.

“I’d love to see my strategies get tested, of course, and watch the Russians flounder when a real fight got brought their way. Hell, the Italians too, they’ve grown complacent. But want?” he asked, frowning as he fished his smokes back out. “I’d want to know people in this city wanted it to happen. I have my home, they can’t take it from me, but it’d be damned encouraging to hear that kind of wish from someone else. Too many people seem happy to just go along with the bullshit.”

Eily stood there for a long moment, then she crooked a finger at him, to beckon him closer. When he got there, she stepped in, to murmur into his ear. "I would like nothing more than to see the Syndicate hang for how they treated my family." she said. It was a simple statement, but there was a whole lot of feeling behind the words. She didn't need to say more, she didn't need to put it more eloquently, or drag it out in details.

He hadn’t been asked for that sort of thing in eight years now, not since his uniformed days. The commanders would state objectives, list off available troops and a deadline, and Eric and his fellows would find a plan that made it happen. “That would be justice for you?” he asked quietly, eyes unreadable as they watched Eily. It was as good a reason as anything, evne without a specific explanation of why. The Syndicate probably could’ve saved the O’Malleys, and had even been linked to some of the family’s culling. Eric could see where blame might fall, and wouldn’t argue it.

"Yes." she stated, not feeling the need to fill it out more again. Yes, that would be justice for her. The problem wasn't the police, it wasn't that at all, even if her brother wanted to place blame there. No, her ire was all for the Syndicate, and how they'd not even pretended to help. They'd just dropped them like hot stones, and possibly even killed off the stragglers so it didn't affect them. Again, her posture, her eyes, her tone, they all held just how she felt on the matter without further exposition.

Whether he’d taken similar work in the military or not, Eric was finding this position to be stranger than he’d expected. He was a private citizen now, calmly discussing plans with another citizen to overthrow an empire.... it’d mean murder, terror, bursts of chaos. It’d mean a great many things that the average citizen would find him repulsive for doing. It would mean war. Four scotches deep, that made Eric feel good. “I’ll look into your request, Eily,” he said eventually, keeping things nice and neutral in case they had eavesdroppers. “Think on the value it holds for you, and when you see the first results, we’ll speak again.”

Eily held his gaze, then nodded. When she saw the first results. Which meant there would be something. She smiled at him. "Are you going to find me? Or shall I find you?" she asked him. She was excited, in a really but she was doing an admiral job of keeping it under her hat. She wasn't giving away anything, just holding eye contact as she faced the idea that what she needed might actually get done.

“Find me,” Eric requested as he took in the smile, quirking a very small one of his own. “When you see evidence that satisfies you, track me down. We’ll talk about what comes next, maybe over dinner.” Age difference or no, he could’ve kept trying his charms on Eily, except that when you agreed to start a war for someone? It tended to derail further conversations.

"I'll do so. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Martens." Eily told him, nodding. She could also tell the conversation was finished for the time being, but there'd be future ones. She smiled at him, then walked past him to head back into the party proper, feeling...well. Like things were about to get interesting.

Marian was trying hard to listen to Alec’s sister in law chat about something that in that moment was very important, but she couldn’t really focus on it. It just didn’t seem important. At all. Still, she sipped at her drink, nodding at all the important points. “Oh yes, completely agree,” she said emphatically not sure what she was agreeing to.

Alec had done some more wondering after he spoke with Detective Trent and he made some sorely needed rounds before returning to Marian. She seemed to be holding her own with dealing with his sister-in-law and he figured it was time to rescue her. “Marian,” He said, coming up and putting a hand gently on her upper back. “I believe I promised you a dance. Would you excuse us, Sis? I believe Andrew was talking about you over with the Leonis.”

The feel of his hand against her skin, skin that was rarely exposed, but in this dress it was unavoidable, Marian couldn’t hide the small little gasp that slipped out. It was different, that contact even if it was completely innocent. Not sure if her words worked properly, all Marian could do was look up at him and nod with her lower lip pulled between her teeth. The glass in her hand was pulled from it, and it wasn’t until it was gone that she looked back, blinking at Alec’s sister-in-law who now had two glasses and an understanding smile.

There were some curious looks as he guided Marian out to the dance floor among the other couples and he worked on ignoring them, especially for Marian’s sake. “Having a good time so far?” he asked her as he pulled her in, keeping a little distance starting out so as to not make her uncomfortable. He may be interested, he may be hoping that someday things would be good between them, but until then, he was always incredibly aware and tried to accommodate any need for space. She was always the one who got to make the move unless she gave him a signal.

Marian didn’t even notice anyone else in the room. All she could focus on was the fact that his hand was still against her skin and praying that she wasn’t turning pink. As she settled into his arms, not entirely sure what she was doing, she finally found her voice, glancing up at him with a soft, shy smile. “I am now,” she said without thinking about it and having to look away again, biting her lip. The daydreams she’d entertained while with Shoshannah filtered back and she had to close her eyes. It was the alcohol that was making her feel a little lightheaded and warm. Not the fact that Alec’s hand was on her waist.

Alec couldn’t help the pleased smile that worked it’s way on his face when he saw her blush but he didn’t comment on it. “How did your talk with the Trent go?” he asked. He’d seen the two speak earlier and he suspected it hadn’t come to fruition.

She opened her mouth to answer, but when she looked up at him again the smile on his face made her stomach flip and her words were forgotten. “I...” she stammered before closing her mouth and looking at his chest, forcing herself to focus. To stop thinking about silly girlish dreams and focus on answering his question. “Not well,” she said when she found her voice, looking up again. “He doesn’t want to tell his story, just do his job.”

“He’s going to have to learn that it’s just going to get people talking more,” Alec said and pulled her just a tiny bit closer. “He’s going to have to say something some day.” He considered letting Marian know how his own conversation went but decided against it, especially in this environment. “It seems he’s not the nicest guy. Did it go alright with you?” He wasn’t sure if the clipped manner extended to both genders.

Something Alec said Marian didn’t actually hear as he pulled her closer and she went with him. She let her hand slide up his arm a little more as he did, savoring the feel of his suit fabric under her fingers. “I think that’s it though,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. “He really doesn’t care. He just wants to do his job. Makes me wonder what actually happened.” Something didn’t seem right. Trent had been drug through worse than mud. Through the absolute worst of it. And now he had no intention of clearing more than just his name. “It was fine. He wasn’t friendly, but polite enough I suppose. Like he knew how to handle himself.”

“Not everyone is made out for all this attention, no,” Alec agreed. “But he seems used to it. To some degree. I’m surprised that they didn’t get him someone to help him out.” If Brett had someone with him, Alec suspected that his manner might be more personable. There were a lot who could find any sort of offense when there was none intended and given Brett’s position, it was certainly precarious.

“Maybe they couldn’t. He was pretty deep in they say. Maybe it had to wait until the family fell,” Marian posed, rubbing her thumb along his hand where she was holding it. It was unintentional, but she couldn’t help it. “Are you having a nice time?” she said changing the subject a little abruptly.

Her thumb was rubbing his hand. It was so innocent and clearly absent minded and Alec wasn’t sure what to do. He liked it, he liked that she was doing it but maybe she didn’t realize she was doing it? The hand on her waist shifted a little and he shrugged his shoulder and smiled down at her. “I’d be having a lot less if you weren’t here. I know I’ve told you already but you look amazing tonight.”

There was the softest noise from her as his hand moved and Marian felt her cheeks flush a little pink. “Thank you,” she murmured softly. “You look rather handsome yourself.” She focused on a spot on his shoulder, brushing at his coat as if removing some invisible piece of lint.

“Well you definitely outshine everyone in the room tonight,” he countered back. “Are you glad you came?”

Marian looked at Alec curiously, not sure where that sort of compliment came from. He couldn’t actually mean that could he? “I am glad I came,” she told him softly, slipping into a sweet smile.

His heart thudded a bit, a quick, sudden beat when she smiled at him like that. She never had before. “I’ve got something that might help cheer you up later. When everything is done. With work. Since Trent didn’t work out.”

It was a little different, the way he was talking in clipped sentences but he’d directed things back to work, the reason for her being her in the first place. “Okay then,” she said, dropping her eyes from his again. She didn’t need cheering up, she was fine right now, but she’d probably been getting ahead of herself. He’d brought her to get the story, not to be his date. She knew that; she’d always known that.

He was confused, wondering what he said that had her looking like that. Alec tried not to let it bother him though and he still kept the smile on his face. “We won’t worry about it now though. Let’s just dance.”

Marian nodded, only briefly meeting his eyes. She was being silly, hoping for something more out of the moment than just a dance, but that was all it was. Part of her wanted to lean in and rest her head against his shoulder like she saw so many other women do, but she couldn’t bring herself to move more than just the slightest bit closer.

Eily had bided her time while the festivities went on. She'd waited, and waited, for there to be a moment to seize, and finally, towards the end of the long evening, she found it. She saw Detective Trent headed for the exit, and she ghosted up behind him, and didn't say anything until he was halfway down the stairs to the side exit of the building--she was guessing so he could avoid the last lingering press that were hovering around. "Detective Trent," she said, voice echoing slightly in the stairwell. "May I have a moment?"

The voice was familiar and Brett knew who would be standing there even before he turned round, just as he knew she'd have used his title on purpose. Eily O'Malley had always struck him as being much smarter than her brothers seemed to treat her as being. Maybe it was just that he had been playing a part as well that he'd seen it in her. He said nothing as he looked up at her, his blue tie loosened enough at the neck that he'd been able to undo the top button of his starched white shirt as he'd left the main room.

She took that as an invitation, and she walked down the stairs towards him, stopping a few up from him so they were more at eye level, but she was still a little higher so he'd need to look up just a touch. "I have a question." she said. "I understand you were undercover. I understand the need for that, I understand all's fair, and have no quarrel with circumstances as they were presented." she said. "But I want to know one thing." She gave herself a moment, watching his eyes, before she finished. "Why am I not visiting my family in jail, instead of visiting cemetery plots?" she asked. "Why didn't you arrest everyone? The papers want everyone to hail you as a hero, but what happened was things got leaked to the Echo, and then my family was slaughtered like lambs. And I may have been out of the loop for a little while, but I heard the stories about Eris Stockard claiming to have orchestrated it--and that you were on her arm." She paused. "Now, I don't really have intentions of going to talk to the Echo, or stirring the pot, or anything of the kind. My brother might blame you for everything, but he's got the wrong reasons, and forgets the part where we were a criminal organization, and the police's job is to investigate that sort of thing. But I want to know...did you set out to have everyone killed? Why didn't you arrest my family?"

She was a strong girl, and her posture was perfect, her voice was steady if soft, due to the echo in the space, but there was a pain in her eyes. There were other things too, like a sincerity about her belief that he was doing his job and she didn't actually fault him for that. But she also wanted an answer, and just because no one else in the party seemed to read the story and go 'wait, what?' that didn't mean she'd missed the bigger picture. Perhaps it was because she was standing in a field of the dead, and she had a unique perspective.

Brett was surprised that nobody had asked that very question before now. there were glaring holes in the story, if you knew any of the real facts. The one thing Brett had on his side though, was that very few people actually had any of the real facts. There were too many corpses littered around the place, the truth had more or less gone to the grave. He might not have actively been lying, but he wasn't taking steps to fill in the gaps. Other people were doing that instead, spinning the 'truth' to be whatever suited them best. "What would you suggest I did? Walk in to one of your father's business meetings with a pair of cuffs and ask him to come quietly?" he asked her. "I didn't set out to have your family killed. And I didn't leak anything to the Echo. I was sent in to investigate. I couldn't have foreseen what would happen if someone else leaked what I knew to the papers." It was the truth, technically.

"Honestly, yes. You should have had the resources of the police department at your disposal, you could have had everyone arrested. It isn't as if you would have had to do it alone, after you had your case built, and you had more than enough on us to put people away. You were with us for a long time. You were Patrick's best friend." Eily stated. "You knew enough." she nodded slightly. "But that wasn't what happened. Something got leaked, and it was from a woman who was with you. I'm sure you can tell what that looks like, Detective. And just because no one else is asking the questions, because they're all little sheep happy to eat whatever's fed to them, doesn't mean I don't see it. Something's wrong here. I think I deserve to know what it is. I lost everyone, and I shouldn't have had to. I should just be a jailbird's daughter." Because she still wasn't saying that her family was innocent, they weren't. She wasn't saying they shouldn't have been jailed. She still believed that the law was well within it's rights. It just didn't happen even a little bit like the paper seemed to say it did. Something was fishy.

Brett's face hardened as she spoke, as Eris was brought up, but he managed to stop short of actually reacting specifically to that. "Not everything in life works out the way we'd want it to, sweetheart. Get used to that. Your family knew the risks. They played, they lost. And you can stand there and complain about the result all you want, but it's not going to change anything."

"I wasn't playing." Eily said. "And they still didn't actually get what they deserved, they got slaughtered. Don't treat me like I'm being an unreasonable brat when I've got a valid point here. I'm not 'complaining', I lost my entire family, that's hardly 'complaining'. Something stinks, in this entire mess, and you're the face on the poster. What happened here isn't right."

Brett hadn't actually said that they had got what they deserved, but he wasn't going to rise to her. Nor did he feel the need to justify himself to her. "We all have our opinions, sweetheart," he told her, before turning round and continuing his walk down the stairs.

Eily didn't follow him, but her eyes remained on him as he walked away. "One day," she said. "You're going to look back on this and realize you could have just given a grieving girl a simple answer. You're no hero, you're just a criminal they gave a badge back to." she told him. And she turned as well, to walk back the way she had come. While she initially had been under the impression that she had no quarrel with him, his treatment of her had altered that opinion. And where she might have steered things away from the police previously, she now no longer cared. So Eric could do his worst, and she wasn't going to concern herself with certain levels of collateral damage.

Danny hated these sort of things. He hadn’t liked it when it was his turn in the spotlight and he certainly didn’t like it now that he wasn’t. There was one perk of the thing though, and it meant he was back in uniform. Of course they were his dress blues, the deep navy uniform that was neatly pressed, perfectly so, but it was much more comfortable than his tie and jacket. The only single perk of the whole thing was that the bar was open. He was three scotches down and starting to take on a light buzz which had moved things up from miserable to almost tolerable. Changing out an old glass for a new one he wandered back towards his wife, holding his new scotch and a glass of champagne for her. “A least the company is lovely,” he said as he handed her her glass.

Since they’d reignited the physical side of their marriage earlier that week, Danny had been more affectionate in general, and Janey had been more than willing to accept his attentions. She didn’t much like the formal social gatherings, but it helped knowing at least they looked good together. She had a few evening dresses in her wardrobe, all in shades of deep blue or black. They matched nicely with Danny’s suits or uniforms, and since affairs like this were the only reason she ever needed to dress up, she thought it was classier for them to look like a couple than for her to go around like some of the other women, in their flashy, sparkling dresses, flaunting themselves in a way Janey never could anyways. The darker colors helped her blend in to the crowd, which was what she wanted.

Janey took the glass and caught Danny’s eye. She was proud to be seen next to him, proud to know he was hers. She gave him a smile, and extended her drink, her first of the evening. “Shall we toast?”

Danny found himself drifting close to his wife. The booze plus the way her dress fit, modest or not, had him finding himself nearer to her than he had been before. It was nice that she was willing and interested in his affection, not claiming headaches or being too tired. “What are we toasting?” he asked as he brought his glass towards hers.

“Hmm...” Janey swirled the champagne in her glass, looking through it and watching how it colored and twisted the faces of the people around her. Reaching for Danny’s free hand with her own, she tugged it out of its normal hiding place in his pocket and lacing her fingers with his. “How about to us being us again? It’s a feeling that I want to last.”

Danny brought Janey’s hand to his lips, kissing her fingers gently. “I like that. It’s a feeling I want to last as well,” he said as he tilted his glass forward and clinking with hers. The drink he took from it was modest, though he was still sure he’d finish the glass in record time.

“Good.” Janey took a big swallow of the wine. She needed to be able to loosen up and socialize at events like these. She began looking around at all the other officers and couples around them. “So...anything interesting you want to share about anyone here?” Although some people considered her a busybody, Janey was generally interested in everyone’s lives more out of hoping she could help them. Though with most of the people here it was more just plain curiosity.

Danny watched Janey take a hefty drink with a curious look, but he certainly didn’t mind. “Looking for new rumors?” he teased as he pulled her closer, one arm going around her waist. “Well, Jack over there, his date is actually his cousin. The man can’t hold a girl to save his life. And Trent, the man of the hour, is working in my department.”

Janey actually laughed aloud at his comment about Jack, shaking her head. “His cousin? I was just thinking they looked pretty cozy. But what’s this about Trent? What’s he working on for you?” The guy was about halfway across the room from them, deeply engaged in a conversation with a fellow guest. The two men looked pretty serious to just be sharing smalltalk.

Danny chuckled lightly and shook his head. "Not for me. I don't think I could stand that but they assigned him into my department. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet." His tone dropped a little and the distrust was obvious. Danny wasn't sold on Trent yet. Maybe he'd prove himself but Danny was cautious.

“There’s something about him that you don’t like, isn’t there?” Janey asked. She caught his tone, and she knew that was what it was, but asking him directly would have been less effective. She looked at the guy again. He seemed to tower over the people around him, although he wasn’t that much bigger than some of the other cops. But his presence was imposing. Was it possible Danny felt threatened? Janey doubted it. She knew her husband well, and his confidence in his abilities. No, there had to be something else.

“I don’t trust him, not yet.” Danny’s voice dropped a little lower, given they were at the party to honor this fallen hero and someone was always listening. To compensate he moved closer, shifting so he was almost behind his wife, able to talk in her ear. “They say he was undercover, but I was around when they pulled him down, when it came out that he was dirty. He got away with it and now we’re throwing him parties based on some proof that no one’s seen yet.” Danny was one of the few clean cops left, even if he was a drunk. Even if he was a drunk he was a step above the dirty cops.

Janey reached up and put her hand on the side of Danny’s face, hoping to soothe him a little. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was getting worked up, and the last thing she wanted was some sort of confrontation later on in the evening. Considering he’d been downing his scotch like water, she wasn’t sure how much control he’d have. “So...if the party is for him, does that mean we should pay him our respects?” Not that she wanted to provoke her husband any further, but she would rather be with him when he approached the guy, if at all. And just like in any social circle, Janey knew a little about how things worked on the force. She didn’t want Danny getting in any sort of trouble at work, above or below the radar, just because he hadn’t honored what was socially expected.

Danny leaned into her hand turning to kiss her fingers again. “No. I spoke to him the other day, he knows we’re not friends. And he knows I’m here being support of whatever such shit. What we do is ignore him and prove that we’re waiting for him to do more than show up in a suit looking fancy.” He didn’t need to be near Brett now. It would be too tempting to hit him for his stupid tuxedo. “If we want to make a good impression, we’ll chat up my lieutenant and maybe the sarge. That’s enough for now.”

Janey chuckled. She couldn’t help it; despite the fact that his temper often got him in trouble, she’d always admired Danny for his spunk, the fact that he wasn’t afraid to say exactly how he felt about someone, even when it may not have been in his best interests. It was the opposite of the way she was. Janey’s oldest brother used to tell people that Janey didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Of course she knew it wasn’t true, but she also knew how to keep quiet about anything bad she thought about someone. It was easier to stay out of the public eye that way. “He doesn’t even look that good,” she said in a low voice. And it was true. He looked stiff and awkward in the suit, like he’d put on his little brother’s and it was a wee bit too small for him.

Now it was Danny’s turn to chuckle. “You don’t have to pretend, I’ll understand if you’re looking for someone taller to trade me out with,” he murmured. It was amusing though, to hear Janey try and keep up with his own distaste for the man. He tilted his glass up finish in off and gave her a little nudge. “Come on, finish that and dance with me.”

“Oh please,” Janey teased, “If I wanted to trade you out for anyone, it’d be Schmidt.” David Schmidt was standing only a few feet away, but Janey was certain he hadn’t heard. He was a has-been detective who’d been on the force since before Danny’s time, and should have been let go a long time ago. He was hard of hearing and had been demoted to desk jobs, but he even struggled with that, what with having to take phone calls. She took the rest of her wine in one big gulp, scrunching her face at the heady feeling it gave her as she swallowed it down. “Shall we dance then?”

Danny gave his wife a bit of a look then shook his head, taking her glass to set it on a nearby table then pull her with him to the dance floor. “Yes, we shall.”

Talking with Brett had definitely been a curiosity, and in more sober moments Eric would have to consider the details of the man carefully, but for now? For now he was starting to feel pleasant from his third scotch, loose-tongued and energetic. He was starting to feel like ruffling some feathers, starting with the good doctor in front of him, not to mention his wife. “Hand to your god, Hagel,” he was saying, raising his drink up to an invisible onlooker.

“I get the bowling ball out of this junked car’s trunk, figure I can bond the cracks on it, and the thing just splits open. Inside? A human hand, rings on the fingers and everything. Nails needed trimming.” He grinned widely at the shocked look on their faces as the doctor and his wife moved away hurriedly, turning to pluck a pack of cigarettes from a server’s tray and swap a crumpled dollar for them. Setting his drink aside, Eric was quick to open the pack and light up as he looked around for another good distraction to help him get his money’s worth from the ticket’s price.

Ava came to this to keep up appearances, to show that she was still just as important a member of society as she had been when Irving had been on her arm. For now, she was flying solo and completely fine with it. It gave her a chance to mix, mingle, and decide for herself where she fit best among the conversations. As she walked leisurely through the gala, nearly empty glass of champagne in her hands, she listened out for keywords in the small group conversations in order to pick her first target. And as soon as she heard something about a bowling ball, a hand inside it, and rings on the hand, Ava was hooked. It certainly didn't hurt that the doctor and his wife were disgusted with it and the man telling the tale had already caught her interest.

Slipping up beside him as she finished her glass and deposited it on a server's empty tray, Ava adjusted the burgundy silk shawl around her arms. "Tell me you still have the rings then..."

“Are you kidding?” Eric asked as he turned to regard the new voice, catching sight of Ava. There were certainly a lot of gorgeous women at the gala, but Eric had his own little system of detection in place. The only ones he needed to really be wary of were the gorgeous ones who were also alone, which meant that the bombshell talking with him now was dangerous.

“No, I didn’t keep the rings,” Eric answered after a moment, reclaiming his drink. “In a town like this, people disappear. I didn’t want our fine officers knocking on my door because I found a ring last seen on the finger of a mafioso. I pawned them, I’m not exactly a jewelry guy,” he explained with a sip of scotch, offering his smokes to Ava. “Cigarette, miss...?”

"Oh, but if you had saved them then perhaps I would believe your story more." Ava reached for a cigarette, holding it perched between her fingers as she answered. "Novikov, but Ava is fine. And you are?" She asked, putting the cigarette up to her lips and leaning in just close enough to him for a light.

Clearly this was the sort of woman who’d wrinkle up in disgust if she were forced to spend any time in Eric’s scrapyard, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from an entertaining moment here, away from the yard. At worst he’d insult Ava and end up with another tale for a private chuckle. “Eric Martens, at your service,” he greeted, lighting her smoke and leaning back with his own pursed in his lips. “And fair point then, Ava; proof’s what matters. Sure seems like the doc there didn’t need any, though. I’d wager most of the folks here would treat that story the same way, rings or no.” And they’d all miss the joke, to boot.

"For a doctor, he seemed skittish. A little green even..." She exhaled and straightened up again, letting her eyes trail over him. She didn't need much more than a good look at him and his story to keep her interest sparked in Mr. Eric Martens, for now. "Makes me wonder if I should trust my well-being and health to someone who cannot deal with a severed hand in a bowling ball. Would you?"

“Sure I would,” Eric answered quickly, grinning in amusement over her observation even as he disagreed. “I knew a couple of docs who were absolute geniuses at treating ailments, setting bones, and giving preventative treatments? But they’d lose their lunch at the sight of a gunshot wound or a bayonet path. Just means Uncle Sam doesn’t want them.” And maybe in Hagel’s case it was more from the rumors about his real bosses, and the possible connection from them to severed limbs. “All the same, I’ll drink to your continued good health,” he praised before taking another healthy gulp of scotch.

"I prefer my doctors to be well-rounded." Ava liked seeing the grin on his lips. It made him look different, maybe subtly, but different enough for her to pick up on it. "If I trust someone with my body, he had better know what he's doing." She was happy to let the words linger there, knowing in the back of her mind that she'd trusted men with her body who were completely clueless, but they'd paid for it so that made up for it. As a waiter passed, she snatched a glass of champagne from the tray and lifted it in a toast back to him. "To continued good health. Hopefully your hand will never end up in a bowling ball, but if it does and I find it? Fair warning, I'll keep your rings for myself."

Eric’s grin just lingered at Ava’s first words, the humor clear as it mixed with a spark of passion in his eyes. She was a gorgeous woman by every standard, easily a contender among any other woman here. Ava obviously knew it too, given her words. “I doubt you’ve ever even touched a bowling ball,” he teased. “Can’t quite imagine you down at the lanes with those shoes on, scribbling out your score. If I had to wager, I’d bet this is more frequent a setting for you,” Eric noted, waving his glass at the gala around them. From her dress to her makeup to her jewelry, Ava was absolutely at home in this setting. It was alluring too, but Eric had charmed women of her class before. “And if you trust someone with your body, I think the rest of us, men that is, will need a day or two of jealous mourning. Presidents get one, so it’s only fair,” he praised with a devilish turn of his grin.

And charmer he was, even by Ava's standards. Few men she encountered knew what to do with themselves around her, but Eric seemed to be right at home. "I'm sure there are lots of things you can't imagine me doing, but I assure you I've already tried quite a few. Though bowling isn't one of them, I admit that. Perhaps I just haven't found a reason to bowl yet." Bowling sounded horrible. Everything about the sport, if it could be called that, sounded ridiculous and unnecessary to her, but Ava played games and this was hypothetical bowling anyway. Lifting an eyebrow at him, a grin spread on her lips. "So are you telling me you're absent a lovely lady of your own who entrusts herself to you?"

Tilting back the rest of his scotch, Eric crunched down on an errant ice cube as he felt a little stab of frustration over Ava’s teasing. It didn’t lessen his grin one bit, and if anything it stretched a little as he leaned in to speak more softly. “I’m blessed with a vivid imagination, and so far? it doesn’t disappoint,” he murmured, withdrawing to puff his cigarette. It was nice, being so freely spoken, but Ava had started out laughing over a macabre tale, so Eric felt safe being less than proper. “You’d do better skipping a trip to the bowling alley,” Eric went on with a shrug. “It’s a good after-work spot for some cheap beers, but I prefer a little more vigor in my sport.” Which suited him just fine as both truth and a little tease. “And I suppose I’m confessing my bachelorhood, yes, but I’d say I’m... between hunts at the moment.”

She took a moment to alternate between champagne and cigarette before she spoke again. The teasing was simply too much fun. She really was enjoying herself here and it surprised her slightly considering she'd expected it to be a dull, but necessary, party. "And what kind of sport holds your attention now?" She asked, knowing full well he meant more than just sports. Taking another puff from her cigarette, she fixed him with a look that included a raised eyebrow. "A man like you comes to this party between hunts? I would have thought you might enjoy having company at a party like this, but maybe frightening doctors is more your style."

“A man like me doesn’t come to these parties,” Eric corrected with an infectious warmth in his grin. “Frightening doctors is the tip of the iceberg when it comes to me not fitting into this crowd, but I do enjoy a chance to challenge preconceptions. It’s sport of a more personal variety, watching the wealthy squirm when they’re outwitted by a junk merchant.” Which was his first admission about his work, and an unplanned one, but that was what happened after so many drinks. “As for my preferred workout? I like a good chase, maybe a bit of a tussle, anything that lets me feel the blood singing in my veins,” he explained with an odd lyricism, thinking that Ava might suit those prerequisites exactly. The only problem, of course, was whether or not she was the sort who expected more in the morning after.

She mirrored his grin with a smile of her own then finished off her champagne and placed the empty flute on a passing waiter's tray. Years of her earlier work at places like Babylon had trained her to keep stoic and unmoved when hearing a man's job and in this case, she needed it. A junk merchant? It was interesting, but surely not a comfortable job financially or otherwise. But tonight she wasn't looking for a benefactor. Tonight, she was interested in Eric, the junk merchant, for other reasons. Reasons he was bringing up right now. She blew out another puff of smoke and fixed her eyes on him. "A good chase, then? And I believe you've already stated you're the hunter. So tell me, as a hunter, do you see anything that catches your eye at this party?"

“Oh, plenty of targets,” Eric agreed with an easy nod, leaning a shoulder into the wall to one side. “Lovely faces surround me tonight, all painted up and framed in jewelry or hairstyles. Most of them don’t look at me twice, though,” he said with a chuckle. “And the ones that do are after something a touch more lasting, I think. I’ve grown a little too used to bachelorhood for most of this crowd, so I’ll just have to let my prey go for tonight. There’s always tomorrow.” And boy, did he have plans for tomorrow...

Now that Ava was not so keen on. She was flirting with him and he was essentially turning her down..or ignoring her suggestion. And no one did that to her. She never let anyone do that to her and she most certainly did not let them get away with it. She let her gaze settle on his own, this time a certain determination behind it that wasn't there before. "I think you've classified every woman here except me. You should really think twice about letting your prey go. It wouldn't be right for a hunter to go hungry, now would it?"

Eric chuckled richly at that, a spark blossoming in his eyes as he regarded Ava. If he had to bet, he’d wager on her being of a similar mindset to his own; hungry for conquest or the thrill of earning it, unattached to anything resembling monogamy (or else Eric would’ve dealt with a suitor by now), and apparently very focused when it came to winning. He’d met women like her in the past, had even bedded (or been bedded by) one of them. It must’ve been nice to have that degree of luxury and confidence, since the average woman couldn’t play by those rules in this day and age. “I’ve been told that before a man can feast, he must know famine,” he retorted quietly, stepping in closer to Ava. “The world is full of necessary evils, though. Tonight just may be one more of them.”

"Whoever told you that was a liar. I don't believe in famine. Feast and feast alike, I say. You live only one life, why waste it wallowing in famine when you could feast instead?" Ava certainly had no intention of engaging in any sort of famine. She got what she wanted and usually got it without this much trouble, but the back and forth she was having with Eric was intriguing enough in itself. It would only turn infuriating if she didn't feel like she won at the end of it. Right now, she felt she was on a good track to getting what she wanted, though, especially since he was that much closer to her now. She gave him a little smile, waiting for his answer.

“For clarity,” Eric murmured, moving imperceptibly enough that any onlookers might’ve missed it as he reached out to settle his free hand lightly at Ava’s hip. Pursing his lips around his cigarette, he sucked down a drag and exhaled before angling his head to keep from blowing smoke in her eyes. “Indulgence clouds the senses, fogs things over in that haze of satisfaction that keeps you stationary after being... fed,” he explained, smirking as he lingered over his smoke.

“Now, denying yourself? You edge everything in anticipation, bring a stark sort of focus into the world where every detail stands out because it’s not the details you want. It’s not soft, warm, sweaty, trembling or gasping...” he teased, leaning in a touch closer with his eyes fixed raptly on Ava’s. “And without a glimpse of the one thing that would sate you? You see all the rest of the world,” Eric finished, his hand slipping away as he leaned back from her. “Water tastes like wine when you’re parched, so I let myself get thirsty and the wine tastes like heaven itself.”

Ava didn't often find herself caught up in what someone else was saying, especially not a man, but the more Eric spoke the more she realized he truly was a charmer. He knew all the right words to say to get her on the same page as he was, but whether or not she was caught up in him, Ava liked to believe she was always a step ahead. "It's true that indulgence may cloud the senses, but that's how I like them. Clouded with satisfaction."

She didn't glance down at his hand on her hip, choosing instead to keep her eyes locked with his. There was a slight tilt to one corner of her lips, a little smirk. "You talk big, but I have to wonder if someone so used to fasting could really provide the sort of heaven that you speak of..." A challenge had never failed her before. Challenges sparked the predator in everyone.

It was a high-class party, and Ava was definitely a part of that class as far as Eric could tell, but she’d made a mistake in challenging him. While he wasn’t planning to take her home with him, or even spend the night somewhere, he never backed down from a challenge like hers. He’d just have to find a way to win it on his own terms. “Feel free to smack me,” Eric said, reaching out unerringly to drop his glass on a server’s tray before he moved without hesitation, stepping in to kiss Ava.

He’d had four or five glasses of scotch, some wine, a champagne; it added up to a fire in his gut that she’d stoked, leaving Eric needing to prove that he could do exactly what she said. Kissing her like he meant it, Eric ignored the little gasp of shock from some onlooker behind him as he turned to put Ava’s back to the wall, smiling brazenly into her lips. Now’s when some photographer oughta ambush me, he thought as he opened the floodgates, letting some vein of passion bleed dry in a hot rush.

One of those small gasps came from Ava herself as she was easily pushed against the wall. It didn't take long for Ava to kiss him back, not caring about the perception it gave the rest of the party. Let her be the harlot; she was labeled that anyway in some circles of these parties and that was a label she was happy to live up to. She loved engaging in flirtations with husbands unhappily married and leaving them trailing after her instead of their wives. But this was different. Eric Martens didn't have a wife. Eric Martens was the one engaging first this time and it shot a thrill of her own up Ava's spine. She kept up with his kiss, one hand slipping under his jacket and up along the lowest part of his ribs. But unlike the other women in this party, Ava wasn't going to stop him. Not for kissing her, at least. She might draw a line about taking it further in front of an entire party even if this was scandalous enough in nature. But for now, she engaged him, pushing on his back to bring him that much closer to her.

He was definitely seasoned in some respect, even if it was just dealing with scrutiny, given how there was no stumble in Eric’s gesture as he drew the kiss out. She was a low warmth between him and the wall, and the taste of Ava on his lips inspired an entirely different sort of drunk sensation that Eric surrounded himself with for a moment, pressing into her when she pulled him closer. No doubt, most men would’ve called him a fool for pulling back when he did, for daring to breathe on his own and gently disengaging from Ava. But he’d had the proof to satisfy his challenged perceptions; the small gasp Ava had let free spoke volumes on its’ own, and thinking of it now gave Eric another slow smile. “No more wondering, I hope,” he murmured, finally putting a bit more space between them to keep him from moving right back in.

The space she wasn't so fond of, but there was something delicious about a kiss right now. However, she wasn't going to leave it at that. She wanted a promise of more, a promise of things other than just a kiss. "No more speculation about your...abilities..in this department, Mr. Martens, but there are plenty of other departments a girl can speculate about. A kiss doesn't satisfy all requirements, no matter how good a kiss it was."

Grinning wider at Ava, Eric reached into his suitcoat to pluck free one of the few cards he’d actually brought to the gala, mentally resolving to order a new set from the printer’s shop tomorrow between his less upstanding activities. “I never make a promise I don’t intend to keep, Ms. Novikov, and I’m not quite ready to hand one over just yet,” he said slyly, planting the card in her hand. “But there’s the way you can reach me at a future date, if you’d like to try convincing me further. Fair warning, I’m a big fan of meritocracy, so... earn the answers to your speculations,” Eric told her, stepping back with a slight nod that was far more composed than the move to kiss her had been. “If you’ll excuse me, Ava, it was a pleasure. But I’m thinking I should be on my way.”

Ava took the card though she didn't look at it right away. He was playing hard to get now. She wasn't an idiot, she knew that when she saw it. But there were a few things that Ava had in her favor, or at least she believed were in her favor. She didn't back down from a challenge, even one she issued. She had her eyes set on him now. He'd initiated the challenge and although he seemed to be fading it right now, that didn't mean she couldn't pick it back up again at a later day. Which she would most certainly be doing, because Ava Novikov was a hunter not only for play but for her livelihood. She'd made all her money by hunting the right people and now she was free to hunt whomever she lived. Eric Martens had just been added to that list. "And what a pleasure it was. Until we meet again, Mr. Martens."