[ Her skirts stay gathered up in one hand as she moved, unsure waiting. It's not that she is afraid of the meeting, she doesn't think, but that she is afraid of meeting. Being in close proximity to someone who she could not control, the way that her father exposed her and then cloistered her.
If he caught her alone outside so long, there will be one thing for her, she will be locked back in her chambers. She will stay there on meagre bread and water until she is reminded about everything she had to be thankful for. Did she know what he had come from, did she want to live like that?
The sound of his voice so suddenly in the dark makes her whirl, skittering on her heel like a startled deer. Her gloved hand reaching up to cover herself before she made a noise. Because for all her infamy, for her terrifying name to some, her eyes go wide, and she looks...
... Very much just like any young woman, barely grown, and terrified. But once she adjusts, her fingers slowly lower, curling in on her hand. ]
[ This is why no one has any idea of the blood that stains her hands. She looks as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, like a well-mannered, innocent daughter of some Lord or Financier, a young lady of impeccable breeding who, for some unknown reason, knows of Jacob Frye and wants to meet him out here in the dark.
Jacob steps a little closer, taken in by the innocent demeanour. He's used to helping London's poor, but his duty should extend to anyone, and everyone, who needs his help. What exactly this young woman, probably not much different in age to him, needs him for is beyond him. Perhaps she wants him to get her out of a marriage, or a potential marriage. Well, he can help with that, and without killing anyone. It won't be as much fun, but so be it. ]
Why wouldn't I? I assume you need my help, Miss. But before I help you, I need to know exactly what it is you want my help with.
[ It bubbles up in her lips, her face that society constructed thing, where her expressions are minimal. The flicker of her surprise, then fixed, smoothed, that softness that effuses into each little movement.
The bigger tell is the clench of her fingers against her shawl, crunching it in her slender fingers. No, no, it was gallant, it was gallant as all the stories made him out to be. Sweeping in to help a frazzled maiden in a secret alcove.
It might be romantic if it weren't for the pause of truth that rolls on her tongue before she lowers her too-bright, too sharp blue eyes, wets her lips. ]
No, Assassin, it's me... that wants to help you.
[ Angel, you look like a slice of cake and about as sturdy, what on earth are you saying? ]
[ Jacob has no idea that anyone considers him gallant. He isn't. He's a thug that has been trained to kill and continues to do it now not out of necessity but because he enjoys it. He runs a gang, he takes part in Fight Clubs and dangerous carriage races back and forth through London's packed streets. He's not a hero, a knight in shining armour. He's nothing like that at all.
He notices the way she clutches at her clothes, but the strange impassive look on her face. He's met women like this before, who hide what is really going on and what they think. He was betrayed by one of them and he can't help but begin to feel a little concerned.
That only increases tenfold when she says she wants to help him. He doesn't laugh, he doesn't dismiss her. Instead his expression, never well schooled in remaining neutral, twists. He remembers all too well what Pearl did to him, how she used him. She promised she was helping him as much as he was helping her but nothing could have been further from the truth. ]
[ She shakes her head, briefly. Fixing herself, that little, and - she does the decent thing of taking a step away from him, reaching the little stone bench set out. Smoothing her fingers across it. Before she tucks her skirts underneath her, and sits.
Because she knows these games, how to be small, how to be out of the way. Most often, it worked, but it was some time since it hadn't. But thankfully, it had been some time since Jack took his temper out on her. ]
I'm Angel. I know you've had letters about me, I intercepted some of your communication about it from time to time. The one, in France. Then in Spain, and the Netherlands.
[ Jacob doesn't follow. He stays stood, watching her motions. The practised grace of someone with more strength then fragile lace would lead you to believe, the small and controlled movements of someone who knows just how to snub out a life with quick professionalism. He had been reminded of Evie but he hadn't realised why. Perhaps because there was marked difference between them, perhaps because he knows Evie better than any other soul in the world.
But now this girl speaks, and as she speaks, he understands. Angel is not some nom de guerre, meant to conceal identity or even a poor nod towards Azrael. It is, quite literally, the girl's name.
A murderer's name. She probably has as many kills to her name as he does, she's been a person of interest to the Assassin's for the last few years and certainly a target if, as they suspect, she's a pawn of the Templars or a Templar herself. She looks too small and too delicate to be such a danger to society, to be such a monster. The hidden blade slides free, almost unbidden by any higher thought processes, and he suddenly looms over her, the thin light of the moon catching on the edge of the blade as he aims at her throat.
And then he hesitates.
It is not something he has done very often before. He normally acts too quickly, without proper thought but now sense has stepped in. She said she wanted to help him. Giving herself up is probably not the help she intended, maybe she has something else which she intended to offer up. ]
[ For someone who has lived the life she has, she doesn't respond like a fighter, or even like a killer.
She looks plainly terrified, her eyes big, wide before she screws them shut. Her lips pressing together before the whimper can get out. Waiting for - what, she doesn't know. Her happiness, relief, that comes like a silver needle. The regret of what she was and the chance dashed to ever be anything else. Her fingers curling up even tighter as she roots her feet to the spot. He'll kill you, Angel, he'll kill you, is that what you want? ]
Because I am the only person smarter than him, and if you want to stop the Templar plans, you need someone who sits on all their meetings. Who knows all their plans. That is the one that makes their weapons so powerful. You need me.
[ The blade hovers a moment longer, still ready to plunge into her neck, still poised there, but after a second more it retracts, still clean and free from any blood. Jacob is looking at her, his lips pressed together as if still uncertain about her. As he has ever reason to be. This offer is too good to be true, just like Pearl and just like Roth.
And while he should have learnt his lesson, something in her expression makes him pause. It is too good to be true, but she didn't try to fight him off. She waited for death to come. Frightened, yes, but she'd accepted it. That was... that was strange. He had expected her to fight him.]
Why would you sell out the Templars?
[ He doesn't understand. Normally the Templars are vehement in their beliefs. He's heard of Assassins becoming disillusioned and switching sides but never it happening the other way.]
[ She sags away when his blade retracts, taking a deep, dizzying breath. Her shoulders falling back, her fingers loosening. She doesn't want to cry in front of an assassin. He was someone - serious. Someone that knew his business.
She was just a silly little girl in comparison, probably, to him. She was to everyone else, most of the time.
But the one thing that is honest, when she opens her eyes at long last, to look up at him with something fierce there, fixed in a way that all this frippery, this delicacy. ]
I hate them. They're monsters. They have to die. I won't be used by them anymore.
[ He's not expecting her words to be so determined. She spits them, full of bile and hatred and he doesn't for a second believe the words are a lie. He's heard people speak about something they truly believe and while he has several reasons to doubt her, good reasons, he finds himself taking her at her word.
And so he sits down on the bench next to her, slouching habitually.]
I need names. If you can give me names, I can get rid of them.
[ She doesn't join him. She's still a consummate actress to this role she never asked. Her back straight up, proper in her corsets. Her hands loosening enough to settle into her lap. ]
It won't be that easy. I wish you could just get rid of them, and then it would just be done with. But Handsome Jack is -
[ She's about to go on, explain further, in detail of that name, that name that hung around like a disease. Of a cruel man. The rest of what Jacob needs to know, about how to move, to follow after it.
But their quiet alcove wasn't going to last right now, it seems. She hears the voice, the approach of shoes. The voice that - if she had withdrawn from his knife, that voice makes her flinch. Like she wants to crawl into Jacob's lap and hide herself away. ]
Angel! Where the hell are you?! You can't get attention if no one can see you, honey.
[ She does none of it, no matter how she wants to shrink away into the ground. Rather she snaps to whisper to him hurriedly. ] Hide if he comes closer. I'll try and keep him distracted.
[ And with it, she stands up, jumping onto her feet and scurrying off like no one of half her reputation should rightly be doing. Her long white skirts trailing after her as she disappears around the hedgerow. Well at truly out of Jacob's direct sight before she speaks. ] I'm here, Jack. I just wanted to get some air. It's a crush in there.
[ Typical society lady nonsense. The note in her voice completely different to the ire of before. It's strained, weak, supplicating, a soft murmur of a lady with no serious thoughts in her head. ]
[ If Angel believes he will sit still and wait then she is quite wrong. He's up as soon as her back is turned and disappeared into the shrubbery. Not in an attempt to run away of conceal himself bit in an attempt to see who addresses her. It's clear she's frightened, more so of the man that calls to her than she is of Jacob, who a second ago would have killed her.
Creeping closer is easy enough, to make sure he does so silently is the challenge. But he stops in the darkness to listen and to catch a glimpse of the man of he can. He has a name, a name she let slip, and he will be sure to investigate the name once he's able. He knows his business, he knows how to get what he needs.
He's surprised by the way her voice changes, he can see through the leaves and branches how her whole stance has changed. She seems smaller now, pitiful. It reminds him very much of a small dog, hoping not to get a kick if it makes itself too unimportant to bother with.]
[ She is dwarfed by the man who has taken her by the forearm, tugging her forcefully forward a few steps - back to the crowded ballroom. But then again, being taller than Angel wasn't much of a triumph. She doesn't struggle in one sense, doesn't bother to pull out of the hold - knows it's pointless. Already, she knows, it will bruise where he holds, but she does trip a step just to make him falter before he's taken her off. ]
Wait - [ He's a handsome man, there is no denying it. As sumptuously dressed as she is, the height of fashion without being too much. But in a brown and black suit that was offset by the one eye that was covered by an eye patch. ] - You'll ruin the plan. Stop.
[ His laugh is grating, deliberately so to make sure she knew he was being patient with her. ] What are you talking about? He can't fall in love with you if he can't see you, Angel.
[ If she's fumbling, if there is lies in what she's saying, it doesn't come out that way. The words are faultless, a matter of fact with a little shake of her head. ] Not with him. I already have his attention, you know that. But I found out - he thinks of himself as a hunter.
What are you saying, sweetheart? [ The pet name that isn't one, pressing on. ] We really don't have time for your little pet theories right now.
No, Jack, it isn't like that. He's had a dozen girls he could have easily already, and he disregards them as quickly if he can just have me. [ The thumb in her arm twists, makes her talk that little bit faster. ] If you want him to love me, he has to find me mysterious, he has to want me more than anyone else he could have. Anything less won't make him sign it over to me. You know that. If he thinks I'm just anyone...
[ There is silence, for a long time. Her breath held in her throat as he weighs in with that hard grip. Then: ] Right, right, so you play mysterious. You make him really want you. Good thinking, Angel. Clever.
I made sure he had the first dance, that he knew I thought he was handsome that he could have me just like that. Then I let him see me dance with others. Then I disappeared. [ She goes on, explaining her plan, such as it was. It's exactly as her reputation makes her sound. Cold, manipulative, sharp. How to trick and fool and do it with no more than a soft smile and sad eyes. ] He'll be looking for, won't be able to find me, and then at the right time, I'll just appear. It'll be mysterious, and he thinks himself such a hunter -
- He'll just want to snap you up. Like a deer in the forest. Right, right, got it. Fine. [ The hard grip on her arm loosens, begins to slip away. His hand snaps up under her jaw, pinching her cheeks in his grip and tilts her face up. ] Don't mess this up. We're so close, now. We're so close. We need that land. I don't want you thinking about anything else. Not like the last one. I don't care if he has a sister or a starving mother or kids. None of it, get it. None of that bleeding heart nonsense. They deserve it, remember. They killed your mother, remember it. Don't be out here much longer. [ Angel nods, her eyes lowered and he smiles, brilliant, roguish, and pinching her cheek like you might a child's face. ] That's my girl.
[ And he finally, finally let's go. Dropping her like she was nothing at all. His hands smoothing over his jacket, patting himself down, and with no more than that, he straightens his face to be something charmingly false and turns on his heel and heads back to the ballroom. The light that stains across the garden.
For the moment, Angel stands there until he's out of sight. Then her hands drop, the shake in them obvious as she smooths them down her body, bracing briefly on her hips. One long slow breath before her composure somewhat retained, unknowing that Jacob is watching, she scurries back around the corner and into the more comfortable darkness. ] Frye? [ Is the murmur, softly, looking for him in the dark. ]
[ Jacob has to fight the desire to give in to the growing anger. This man knows she's terrified of him, even if he doesn't acknowledge it, it's clear from his tight grip on her arm that he intends to do so. Jacob has known men like that before, has seen the way they treat their wives or daughters or sisters. They say that they are doing what the law of the land requires, looking after women too weak or hysterical to do so themselves, protecting them from outside harm. Nothing could be further from the truth, in Jacob's mind.
Most of those women never escape. Some of them die. Some of them snap and kill their husbands or more likely, themselves. In the case in front of him, he'd say the girl was only a few weeks away from throwing herself down some stairs. Maybe the letter to him had been a last-ditch attempt to get away, to get help.
He forces himself not to move, just to listen, eyes focused on what he can see between the bushes and plants. She's bright, to come up with a reason to be left alone, despite how scared she clearly is. Like she said, she may well be much brighter than this Handsome Jack, but not able to get herself away from him without some assistance. Jacob is going to offer it now, of that she should be certain. Who could watch that exchange and not feel anger seething in their soul? It had been an effort not to grind his teeth.
Eventually, Jack stops poking and prodding at her, invading her space and making her seem even smaller. Jacob can't believe she doesn't reach out to smack him, doesn't strike back but for a girl who has committed a series of infamous murders, she'd obviously cowed. At least Ethan wasn't about to do that to his children, although he might have wanted them more obedient.
Once the coast is clear, and she has moved back into the shadowy, secluded area of the garden they first met in, Jacob stands to join her again. ]
[ Her hand reaches up to where he'd grabbed her. Trying to smooth it over, stop the pain, maybe stop the bruise from forming on her skin. There'd be a way to hide it, later on, if it did bloom there. ( Of course, it would, she has the complexion women would half destroy their skin for, thin, so white it was a wonder she'd ever seen the sun, those fine blue lines that looked purple under the skin at her wrists ).
She doesn't look at Jacob, immediately. Hates looking at anyone, being near anyone after Jack had his little outbursts. ]
It's not that easy, I can't do it by myself. [ She murmurs, her gloved hand reaching up to blot her eyes, careful to make sure her face didn't turn blotchy with tears. ] And it's not enough, just him, there are still the Templars he works with. He controls them, but kill him and any one of them could take his place, and they wouldn't trust me as he does. I'd lose any chance of stopping them altogether.
[ He pauses for a second and then reaches into a pocket. Surprisingly for a man who runs a criminal gang out of Whitechapel, he carries a selection of clean handkerchiefs in an inside pocket. Mostly to swipe blood up from the Templars he kills, but also for more mundane reasons too, like make bandages, tourniquets, or for wiping crying eyes. He offers it out to her without a word.
It seems to him that killing Jack and getting her out of there tonight is the easiest option, but it's clearly not what she wants. He will help her, he knows that he will, but he wishes there was a quick way of getting her somewhere she was safe.]
We'll do it your way then. How do you want me to do this?
[ She watches him in surprise as he offers it to her. Either that he has it, or that he wants to comfort her in any way.
She knew Jack lied, after all, he always lied, always was a coward. Always did hide behind such things. But... she had been raised on these stories. Of the cruelty, blood-drunk assassin intent on sowing anarchy wherever they went. That they had no compassion for anyone but themselves.
Maybe it was just him. Maybe they weren't all this kind. She doesn't know. ] Thank you. [ Light, as she takes her, her fingers warm where they brush against his hand on accident. ] We need to eliminate the others that surround him, first.
[ I want him to watch everything he built crumble underneath him first. I want him to be alone with no one to help him. She takes a very slow, long breath. ]
So our first target should be Wilhelm. His enforcer. You might have heard of him. He used to be a boxer and a mercenary. Until he was thrown out of the army for beating one of his soldiers half to death.
[ She's not the only one to have grown up with stories. Jacob's heard them too, how the Templars will stop at nothing to consolidate their power, how above all else they desire to see humanity meek and subservient to their rule. He wishes he could say that in his experience that was wrong, but he also knows that isn't the full picture. There are scientists amongst the Templars who want to discover the world's secrets and he knows that there are scientists who side with the Assassins who want the same. The problem is what each side would do with the knowledge.
The fact is, Jacob doesn't much like either side. He wants his freedom, the freedom to choose his own path, and not be dragged into an ever-lasting war. Maybe that's what Angel is after too. But they need to cut the chains that tie her to the Order before she can spread her wings.]
I've heard of Wilhelm. Fantastic fighter, they say. Doesn't leave a man standing. I'm sure I can take him.
[ That's said with a bright, charming grin, a Frye Special. Jacob honestly believes he can, and will, take the guy down. After all, he's not failed yet when it comes to killing a target. ]
Is there a place I'm most likely to find him? A base of operations?
[ She nods, adjusting her shawl, short enough her feet didn't reach the ground and swing below her as she talks. The crinkle of material is a give away for the little movements. Bubbling about her soft and white like sea foam.
Because the difference when she has work to concentrate on is remarkable. The fear trickles away, chatting on with minimal fidgeting. Looking up at him in some moments, then out of the garden.
He does, but it moves around. Sometimes he likes to be stationed in Camden, other times in York. I will get the final confirmation in the next few days when he's next coming to London. But when he's here, he always likes to drink of the corner of Piccadilly station.
[ He knows the corner she means, knows the pub she means. He's had a pint there himself. He's had a pint in most places in London. At least one pint, in truth.
But that area is busy. He's fairly sure that he can get in without being recognised, and get what needs to be done done.]
You can pass that information on to me? When he's going to be there? Don't much fancy going all the way up to York if he's going to be in my neighbourhood.
[ She nods - and for all she has been afraid, is afraid - there is something of that reputation there. There is a surety to her, of what she can do, what she knows how to do, and how unerringly she can move pieces when she needs to. ]
I will send a runner when I know. I won't be able to come myself, Jack will...
[ There doesn't have to be an elaboration there. ] Where is the best place for them to meet you?
[ Jacob nods, the answer an obvious one. Somewhere busy, somewhere convenient, somewhere that will get him to Picidilly quickly, as soon as he gets word of Wilheim being in town. ]
Under the clock at Waterloo station. Sometime around dusk.
[ He pauses, considering her again ] If you are in London, and you need me, you send for me, alright? A plan is all well and good, but if you need me, the plan goes out of the window.
[ Because something about this girl worries him. Not about her, despite her reputation. He knows that she's dangerous, this could all be a trap but if it isn't? Then her blood is on his hands. All she wants is out.]
[ It catches her off guard. She doesn't expect people to care about her. She expects men to want her, they always do. The way you put a special ornament on the shelf. She expects other women to not pay much attention to another woman on the circuit. She expects Templars to be proud of their weapon, and Assassin's to want her dead.
She doesn't expect Jacob Frye to care about her. To want to more than what is best for him and his own. Angel would be as naive as Jack accused her of being if she really didn't know what he probably thought of her until this moment. ]
Oh -
[ Paused, it's different to when he'd crept out of the shadows, or Jack's voice startling her - her eyes are wide, and in the dim light, her too white skin goes steadily pink.
Gallant, she thinks again and realises she is being silly, as the smile spreads on her face - until it's suddenly blindingly earnest. ]
[ Jacob would love to believe her. He'd love to have enough faith to believe that if that man hurt her, she would fight back, that she would defend herself with every skill and breath she had. But he's seen the way she cowered in his presence, shrunk away from his touch. She'd let that man kill her before she did anything to stop him, Jacob is sure of that.
He's sure too that telling her that his father was a bastard won't help. For a start, he doesn't seem as bad as hers, by a long way. It won't help, it will just add insult to injury.
No, best not. ]
Alright. The offer is there. Always.
[ And with that, he touches the brim of the top hat, and leaves via the thick undergrowth, mulling over the strange revelations of the evening.]
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no subject
If he caught her alone outside so long, there will be one thing for her, she will be locked back in her chambers. She will stay there on meagre bread and water until she is reminded about everything she had to be thankful for. Did she know what he had come from, did she want to live like that?
The sound of his voice so suddenly in the dark makes her whirl, skittering on her heel like a startled deer. Her gloved hand reaching up to cover herself before she made a noise. Because for all her infamy, for her terrifying name to some, her eyes go wide, and she looks...
... Very much just like any young woman, barely grown, and terrified. But once she adjusts, her fingers slowly lower, curling in on her hand. ]
You came. I didn't really think you would.
no subject
Jacob steps a little closer, taken in by the innocent demeanour. He's used to helping London's poor, but his duty should extend to anyone, and everyone, who needs his help. What exactly this young woman, probably not much different in age to him, needs him for is beyond him. Perhaps she wants him to get her out of a marriage, or a potential marriage. Well, he can help with that, and without killing anyone. It won't be as much fun, but so be it. ]
Why wouldn't I? I assume you need my help, Miss. But before I help you, I need to know exactly what it is you want my help with.
no subject
[ It bubbles up in her lips, her face that society constructed thing, where her expressions are minimal. The flicker of her surprise, then fixed, smoothed, that softness that effuses into each little movement.
The bigger tell is the clench of her fingers against her shawl, crunching it in her slender fingers. No, no, it was gallant, it was gallant as all the stories made him out to be. Sweeping in to help a frazzled maiden in a secret alcove.
It might be romantic if it weren't for the pause of truth that rolls on her tongue before she lowers her too-bright, too sharp blue eyes, wets her lips. ]
No, Assassin, it's me... that wants to help you.
[ Angel, you look like a slice of cake and about as sturdy, what on earth are you saying? ]
no subject
He notices the way she clutches at her clothes, but the strange impassive look on her face. He's met women like this before, who hide what is really going on and what they think. He was betrayed by one of them and he can't help but begin to feel a little concerned.
That only increases tenfold when she says she wants to help him. He doesn't laugh, he doesn't dismiss her. Instead his expression, never well schooled in remaining neutral, twists. He remembers all too well what Pearl did to him, how she used him. She promised she was helping him as much as he was helping her but nothing could have been further from the truth. ]
How exactly are you going to do that?
no subject
[ She shakes her head, briefly. Fixing herself, that little, and - she does the decent thing of taking a step away from him, reaching the little stone bench set out. Smoothing her fingers across it. Before she tucks her skirts underneath her, and sits.
Because she knows these games, how to be small, how to be out of the way. Most often, it worked, but it was some time since it hadn't. But thankfully, it had been some time since Jack took his temper out on her. ]
I'm Angel. I know you've had letters about me, I intercepted some of your communication about it from time to time. The one, in France. Then in Spain, and the Netherlands.
no subject
But now this girl speaks, and as she speaks, he understands. Angel is not some nom de guerre, meant to conceal identity or even a poor nod towards Azrael. It is, quite literally, the girl's name.
A murderer's name. She probably has as many kills to her name as he does, she's been a person of interest to the Assassin's for the last few years and certainly a target if, as they suspect, she's a pawn of the Templars or a Templar herself. She looks too small and too delicate to be such a danger to society, to be such a monster. The hidden blade slides free, almost unbidden by any higher thought processes, and he suddenly looms over her, the thin light of the moon catching on the edge of the blade as he aims at her throat.
And then he hesitates.
It is not something he has done very often before. He normally acts too quickly, without proper thought but now sense has stepped in. She said she wanted to help him. Giving herself up is probably not the help she intended, maybe she has something else which she intended to offer up. ]
Tell me how you intend to help me, Angel.
no subject
She looks plainly terrified, her eyes big, wide before she screws them shut. Her lips pressing together before the whimper can get out. Waiting for - what, she doesn't know. Her happiness, relief, that comes like a silver needle. The regret of what she was and the chance dashed to ever be anything else. Her fingers curling up even tighter as she roots her feet to the spot. He'll kill you, Angel, he'll kill you, is that what you want? ]
Because I am the only person smarter than him, and if you want to stop the Templar plans, you need someone who sits on all their meetings. Who knows all their plans. That is the one that makes their weapons so powerful. You need me.
no subject
And while he should have learnt his lesson, something in her expression makes him pause. It is too good to be true, but she didn't try to fight him off. She waited for death to come. Frightened, yes, but she'd accepted it. That was... that was strange. He had expected her to fight him.]
Why would you sell out the Templars?
[ He doesn't understand. Normally the Templars are vehement in their beliefs. He's heard of Assassins becoming disillusioned and switching sides but never it happening the other way.]
no subject
She was just a silly little girl in comparison, probably, to him. She was to everyone else, most of the time.
But the one thing that is honest, when she opens her eyes at long last, to look up at him with something fierce there, fixed in a way that all this frippery, this delicacy. ]
I hate them. They're monsters. They have to die. I won't be used by them anymore.
no subject
And so he sits down on the bench next to her, slouching habitually.]
I need names. If you can give me names, I can get rid of them.
no subject
It won't be that easy. I wish you could just get rid of them, and then it would just be done with. But Handsome Jack is -
[ She's about to go on, explain further, in detail of that name, that name that hung around like a disease. Of a cruel man. The rest of what Jacob needs to know, about how to move, to follow after it.
But their quiet alcove wasn't going to last right now, it seems. She hears the voice, the approach of shoes. The voice that - if she had withdrawn from his knife, that voice makes her flinch. Like she wants to crawl into Jacob's lap and hide herself away. ]
Angel! Where the hell are you?! You can't get attention if no one can see you, honey.
[ She does none of it, no matter how she wants to shrink away into the ground. Rather she snaps to whisper to him hurriedly. ] Hide if he comes closer. I'll try and keep him distracted.
[ And with it, she stands up, jumping onto her feet and scurrying off like no one of half her reputation should rightly be doing. Her long white skirts trailing after her as she disappears around the hedgerow. Well at truly out of Jacob's direct sight before she speaks. ] I'm here, Jack. I just wanted to get some air. It's a crush in there.
[ Typical society lady nonsense. The note in her voice completely different to the ire of before. It's strained, weak, supplicating, a soft murmur of a lady with no serious thoughts in her head. ]
no subject
Creeping closer is easy enough, to make sure he does so silently is the challenge. But he stops in the darkness to listen and to catch a glimpse of the man of he can. He has a name, a name she let slip, and he will be sure to investigate the name once he's able. He knows his business, he knows how to get what he needs.
He's surprised by the way her voice changes, he can see through the leaves and branches how her whole stance has changed. She seems smaller now, pitiful. It reminds him very much of a small dog, hoping not to get a kick if it makes itself too unimportant to bother with.]
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Wait - [ He's a handsome man, there is no denying it. As sumptuously dressed as she is, the height of fashion without being too much. But in a brown and black suit that was offset by the one eye that was covered by an eye patch. ] - You'll ruin the plan. Stop.
[ His laugh is grating, deliberately so to make sure she knew he was being patient with her. ] What are you talking about? He can't fall in love with you if he can't see you, Angel.
[ If she's fumbling, if there is lies in what she's saying, it doesn't come out that way. The words are faultless, a matter of fact with a little shake of her head. ] Not with him. I already have his attention, you know that. But I found out - he thinks of himself as a hunter.
What are you saying, sweetheart? [ The pet name that isn't one, pressing on. ] We really don't have time for your little pet theories right now.
No, Jack, it isn't like that. He's had a dozen girls he could have easily already, and he disregards them as quickly if he can just have me. [ The thumb in her arm twists, makes her talk that little bit faster. ] If you want him to love me, he has to find me mysterious, he has to want me more than anyone else he could have. Anything less won't make him sign it over to me. You know that. If he thinks I'm just anyone...
[ There is silence, for a long time. Her breath held in her throat as he weighs in with that hard grip. Then: ] Right, right, so you play mysterious. You make him really want you. Good thinking, Angel. Clever.
I made sure he had the first dance, that he knew I thought he was handsome that he could have me just like that. Then I let him see me dance with others. Then I disappeared. [ She goes on, explaining her plan, such as it was. It's exactly as her reputation makes her sound. Cold, manipulative, sharp. How to trick and fool and do it with no more than a soft smile and sad eyes. ] He'll be looking for, won't be able to find me, and then at the right time, I'll just appear. It'll be mysterious, and he thinks himself such a hunter -
- He'll just want to snap you up. Like a deer in the forest. Right, right, got it. Fine. [ The hard grip on her arm loosens, begins to slip away. His hand snaps up under her jaw, pinching her cheeks in his grip and tilts her face up. ] Don't mess this up. We're so close, now. We're so close. We need that land. I don't want you thinking about anything else. Not like the last one. I don't care if he has a sister or a starving mother or kids. None of it, get it. None of that bleeding heart nonsense. They deserve it, remember. They killed your mother, remember it. Don't be out here much longer. [ Angel nods, her eyes lowered and he smiles, brilliant, roguish, and pinching her cheek like you might a child's face. ] That's my girl.
[ And he finally, finally let's go. Dropping her like she was nothing at all. His hands smoothing over his jacket, patting himself down, and with no more than that, he straightens his face to be something charmingly false and turns on his heel and heads back to the ballroom. The light that stains across the garden.
For the moment, Angel stands there until he's out of sight. Then her hands drop, the shake in them obvious as she smooths them down her body, bracing briefly on her hips. One long slow breath before her composure somewhat retained, unknowing that Jacob is watching, she scurries back around the corner and into the more comfortable darkness. ] Frye? [ Is the murmur, softly, looking for him in the dark. ]
okay even I want to punch Jack rn
Most of those women never escape. Some of them die. Some of them snap and kill their husbands or more likely, themselves. In the case in front of him, he'd say the girl was only a few weeks away from throwing herself down some stairs. Maybe the letter to him had been a last-ditch attempt to get away, to get help.
He forces himself not to move, just to listen, eyes focused on what he can see between the bushes and plants. She's bright, to come up with a reason to be left alone, despite how scared she clearly is. Like she said, she may well be much brighter than this Handsome Jack, but not able to get herself away from him without some assistance. Jacob is going to offer it now, of that she should be certain. Who could watch that exchange and not feel anger seething in their soul? It had been an effort not to grind his teeth.
Eventually, Jack stops poking and prodding at her, invading her space and making her seem even smaller. Jacob can't believe she doesn't reach out to smack him, doesn't strike back but for a girl who has committed a series of infamous murders, she'd obviously cowed. At least Ethan wasn't about to do that to his children, although he might have wanted them more obedient.
Once the coast is clear, and she has moved back into the shadowy, secluded area of the garden they first met in, Jacob stands to join her again. ]
I don't understand. Why don't you just kill him?
the universal state: punch jack
She doesn't look at Jacob, immediately. Hates looking at anyone, being near anyone after Jack had his little outbursts. ]
It's not that easy, I can't do it by myself. [ She murmurs, her gloved hand reaching up to blot her eyes, careful to make sure her face didn't turn blotchy with tears. ] And it's not enough, just him, there are still the Templars he works with. He controls them, but kill him and any one of them could take his place, and they wouldn't trust me as he does. I'd lose any chance of stopping them altogether.
sounds like a good option
It seems to him that killing Jack and getting her out of there tonight is the easiest option, but it's clearly not what she wants. He will help her, he knows that he will, but he wishes there was a quick way of getting her somewhere she was safe.]
We'll do it your way then. How do you want me to do this?
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She knew Jack lied, after all, he always lied, always was a coward. Always did hide behind such things. But... she had been raised on these stories. Of the cruelty, blood-drunk assassin intent on sowing anarchy wherever they went. That they had no compassion for anyone but themselves.
Maybe it was just him. Maybe they weren't all this kind. She doesn't know. ] Thank you. [ Light, as she takes her, her fingers warm where they brush against his hand on accident. ] We need to eliminate the others that surround him, first.
[ I want him to watch everything he built crumble underneath him first. I want him to be alone with no one to help him. She takes a very slow, long breath. ]
So our first target should be Wilhelm. His enforcer. You might have heard of him. He used to be a boxer and a mercenary. Until he was thrown out of the army for beating one of his soldiers half to death.
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The fact is, Jacob doesn't much like either side. He wants his freedom, the freedom to choose his own path, and not be dragged into an ever-lasting war. Maybe that's what Angel is after too. But they need to cut the chains that tie her to the Order before she can spread her wings.]
I've heard of Wilhelm. Fantastic fighter, they say. Doesn't leave a man standing. I'm sure I can take him.
[ That's said with a bright, charming grin, a Frye Special. Jacob honestly believes he can, and will, take the guy down. After all, he's not failed yet when it comes to killing a target. ]
Is there a place I'm most likely to find him? A base of operations?
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Because the difference when she has work to concentrate on is remarkable. The fear trickles away, chatting on with minimal fidgeting. Looking up at him in some moments, then out of the garden.
He does, but it moves around. Sometimes he likes to be stationed in Camden, other times in York. I will get the final confirmation in the next few days when he's next coming to London. But when he's here, he always likes to drink of the corner of Piccadilly station.
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[ He knows the corner she means, knows the pub she means. He's had a pint there himself. He's had a pint in most places in London. At least one pint, in truth.
But that area is busy. He's fairly sure that he can get in without being recognised, and get what needs to be done done.]
You can pass that information on to me? When he's going to be there? Don't much fancy going all the way up to York if he's going to be in my neighbourhood.
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I will send a runner when I know. I won't be able to come myself, Jack will...
[ There doesn't have to be an elaboration there. ] Where is the best place for them to meet you?
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Under the clock at Waterloo station. Sometime around dusk.
[ He pauses, considering her again ] If you are in London, and you need me, you send for me, alright? A plan is all well and good, but if you need me, the plan goes out of the window.
[ Because something about this girl worries him. Not about her, despite her reputation. He knows that she's dangerous, this could all be a trap but if it isn't? Then her blood is on his hands. All she wants is out.]
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She doesn't expect Jacob Frye to care about her. To want to more than what is best for him and his own. Angel would be as naive as Jack accused her of being if she really didn't know what he probably thought of her until this moment. ]
Oh -
[ Paused, it's different to when he'd crept out of the shadows, or Jack's voice startling her - her eyes are wide, and in the dim light, her too white skin goes steadily pink.
Gallant, she thinks again and realises she is being silly, as the smile spreads on her face - until it's suddenly blindingly earnest. ]
Thank-you. I'll be fine, I promise.
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He's sure too that telling her that his father was a bastard won't help. For a start, he doesn't seem as bad as hers, by a long way. It won't help, it will just add insult to injury.
No, best not. ]
Alright. The offer is there. Always.
[ And with that, he touches the brim of the top hat, and leaves via the thick undergrowth, mulling over the strange revelations of the evening.]