[ Jacob sees the change in her, sees the change from prey to predator and wonders if she gets like this before a kill.
He shakes his head at the mention of poison and reaches into his jacket. There's always a couple of knives tucked away. He passes her one, one that he hopes she can stow safely.]
[ She tucks it away, sliding into the opposite wrist to where the poison needle in the other wrist.
Angel nods, and then changes again, tugging at her clothes to pull her shift up, tearing it a little, tugging hairs free for her upswept style, until she looks frazzled, blinking quickly, adding a tremble to hitched breaths. When she looks up at him, her eyes are wide, wet, ready with tears.
If not for that sharpness to it. But gone under how she gathers up her skirts, giving him one little nod. ] I'll send the other this way. Be ready.
[ And then she picks up her skirts, and takes off. But oh, she is so little, such a flash of white skin and frilly petticoats as goes off at an unbalanced, terrified run. Towards the two guardsmen, panicked, scared, a little be overdrawn for anyone that might know her - but much like a heroine in a penny-dreadful. ]
Help me, please - there has been an accident! [ She flings at the nearest of the men, into his arms. How forlorn, how slight she looks like that. Weakly sobbing, so overwhelmed, as the man catches her. Tears that make her blue eyes bright, that little bit of dishevelment that gives glimpses of skin, the delicate little beat of her quickened pulse in her throat. ] Please, my friend - over there - !
[ Evie would never pull the damsel in distress trick. If she did, it probably wouldn't have been believable. She'd never been distressed in her life.
But Angel? A woman with probably just as many kills to her name makes even Jacob's heart bleed a little, despite the fact he knows that the only accident that happened here tonight was his own doing. He shifts, listening to the heavier booted footsteps of a man, and then as soon as the mark is literally on top of him, pulls him onto the length of the hidden blade, all the while listening out for Angel.
She doesn't need his help, that's for sure, and he steps out of his hiding place to come to pick up the second body and hide it, just in case. ]
Does that always work that well? The crying and the... helplessness?
[ Her target is dead the second his friend steps just out of earshot and into the bushes. Gone into a thump with the blade Jacob gave her in his neck. A spurt of blood she keeps out of the way of, as he falls away.
When Jacob reappears, she's pulling the blade out, wiping the blood away on his jacket, went at the waist corsets so unfortunately require. Getting it clean, she retucks it away and lets Jacob takes the body away, following after him as she resecures the blade. ]
Usually. If there - if they're as bad as either of us, then it doesn't work. Because they don't feel very much, so the... crying doesn't work.
[ She sighs a little, ]
Sometimes... it's not about that. Men have only ever looked at me, seen what I am... they think that means that there is nothing I can ever do to hurt them.
[ Jacob is ready to argue that he doesn't think that women that look like she does are incapable of hurting him but... then he thinks. He didn't think Pearl was capable of double-crossing him, and if a girl like Angel walked up to him sobbing in the street, he wouldn't see past the tears and the flush in her cheeks.
So, in short, he'd probably fall for it hook, line and sinker.] I... I really shouldn't be so surprised.
[But now they have proper work ahead of them, and while he'd normally like to get up on the roof and sink it that way, they've got an unguarded door right in front of them. Why make life harder than it already is?
He pushes the door open, and gestures her in behind him, pushing the door closed again so any light escaping can't be seen from the house, although they have enough problems to deal with. There doesn't seem to be anyone else here this time of night, and he rubs his hands together.]
[ She says it with a small smile, following after him. Eyes up as they step through, into the darkened warehouse, laid out before them. The smell of metal parts, leftover burning air, and an array of chemicals.
She wets her lips, then catches her teeth on her bottom lip, gnawing on it in thought as she looks around. Taking stock in a way that is purely clinical, her head tilting a second as she assesses, then looks back to him. ]
Sulfur. I can smell it. They're bound to have more.
[ Jacob normally leaves the silence stuff to someone else, someone who understands how it works, but he does at least know what sulfur is, and what it smells like. He also knows why she might be looking for it, and he grins brightly.
He's not so sure about leaving her alone as he goes to explore the rest of the workshop. It's not small, and there might well be more guards elsewhere. But he meets none of them on his hunt for chemicals, returning only a few minutes after with the container. The stench of it is incredible, even though the barrel is sealed.]
I think I've found the prototype. We focus the explosion there, blow the thing to pieces so no one can put it back together.
[ She does not mind it so much, being left alone. Easier when she doesn't have to explain what she is looking for while he looks for that. Instead, she goes for the rest of what they're going to need. Accelerant. A good one, to help speed up the sulfur to make it look like a proper accident. Eventually, maybe, depending who did the digging, they might work it out, but it would take a little while to pick it apart if she set it up the right way.
Ah-ha! Turpentine, and was that linseed oil? Probably, for polishing the parts. Strong as the sulfur as she comes back. The bottles in hand, and a few rags. The first, she lifts up and begins tying around the lower part of her face. Nodding to him as he approached. Offering him the other rag if he needed to tie it over his face. ]
Sounds good. [ She looks over it, considering a plan. ] Start dusting it around, over everything, we're going to make this as hard as possible for anyone to come in here afterwards.
[ He sets the barrel down, taking the offered rag and tying it around his mouth and nose. He normally doesn't bother with anything so cautionary, preferring to race death and see if he can get out before whatever fumes or toxins get the better of him.
But in front of this lady that sort of stupid bravado probably isn't going to work. She's clearly got a far better understanding of these chemicals than he does. His normal method is to do whatever he's been instructed to do, or just ensure there's a lot of flammable oil over everything, or the place is made of old, dry wood, and throw a match in there.
So the whole place gets a dusting with sulfur, and he tries not to spend the chances he gets watching her. He shouldn't be suspicious still, but she is the daughter of a Templar, and she was ten minutes ago telling him he couldn't kill the bastard back in the house. He just doesn't want her spending too much time with that prototype, just in case she decides to go back to her daddy and tell him everything.
He doesn't think she will, but he's been stabbed in the back too often not to be at least a little cautious.]
[He's more than a little right, she's dying to read the blueprint and the prototype. To see it for itself, how he'd worked out the issues with rounds and the firing mechanism.
But not for Jack, and not for the Templar. She wants to desperately understand it and rip it apart and build it again but better.
She just has some sliver of understanding, punctured by that very dead man in the room upstairs, that that sort of thing wouldn't be tolerates. She guessed she'd had a point, too.
So Angel gets to working herself. First with the terpentine, following after him, splashing it after him like spilt water. It smells just as bad as the sulfur if a different clearer, dizzying sort of smell. ]
When I was little, my... Handsome Jack, he took me to the World Fair. A man was presenting his findings for a new kind of train and how it could go faster than ever before. I read it, and I realised, the person was wrong, they had done their calculation incorrectly. I don't know how I knew, I just knew.
I showed it to Jack and... [she shrugs, a little. ] I haven't stopped since. I like studying numbers best. But chemicals, learning what does this and that... It's just as fun. I like learning new things, about the world...
[Angel, no one has ever described math as fun. Or at least that is what Jack would say, so she cuts herself off in a practised way. Focusing on emptying the last of the bottle out.
That done, she goes to the next stage. Linseed oil. That should make it look accidental at least to common eyes. Carefully, so carefully, Angel takes the last of rags, and carefully, so carefully, she begins to dip them in. ] Don't drop these? We'll be incinerated immediately, understood?
[ gingerly, once it's thoroughly soaked, she holds it by one end, dripping oil onto the floor, she holds it by the corner up to him. ]
[ She's quite probably smarter than Evie, Jacob muses, but keeps to himself. Evie can math, and she can math well, but really isn't puzzles that Evie excels in. Reading something and decoding it, understanding the meaning behind symbols or the symbolism in a story. Jacob can do it too, although he doesn't seem to get the rush from doing it that Evie does.]
You know... that sounds like a real talent.
[ He can't help but be a little impressed, and although part of him say to be cautious about this woman, she has given him the mask to cover his mouth, she has given clear instructions as to why he shouldn't do something. She certainly seems to know what she's talking about. ]
There's a man in London you should meet. Alec. He'd love to have someone to listen to his theories and help him out a bit with experiments.
[ And that might get her away from her father. Safe, out of this place. Handsome Jack can think Jacob has kidnapped her, that will make his life difficult for a while, until he can deal with the man himself but he can't leave her here. That's too dangerous. ]
You... aren't going to stay here, are you? You can't. Not now.
[ She looks at him over her mask, and it's - not angry, or sad, or even hurt. Because it sounds good, it sounds fun. Someone who might listen to her? Talk to her, care about anything she has to say other than how they could use it for their own gains? It sounds wonderful, dreamlike, and it flickers in her gaze as she looks over him.
Just longing, how it strips back that veneer of excitement over doing her work. That ultimate sting of someone, who, in so many ways, has already given up.
Because she doesn't think he means staying here in the burning building. She doesn't think he means back to the party, either. ]
Where else am I going to go? With you? To the hideout of a bunch of Assassins? You know they wouldn't let me in. I've done awful things to your people.
[ And isn't that the right of what Jack has made her do. More damning than even the murder itself. Where was she going to go? Who was ever going to take her in?
[ He's a little surprised by her assumption that there's a "bunch of assassins". There's not all that many, not really. There were only three in the whole of London, before Evie and Greenie left. Now it's him and the Rooks, until he can find some more to teach. But dealing with Handsome Jack is the priority.
Hadn't the Templar's realised just how rare a beast the British Brotherhood now was? George back in Crawley is the only one south of London now, and there's very, very few elsewhere.]
You'll be safe, I promise you that. If you want to get away from this, from him, we'll protect you. I'll protect you.
[ Her mouth falls open, paused, trying to say something, holding the cloth soaked in volatile fuel. Mind rapidly grasping over it, how freely he offered it. Everything she was, everything she wasn't. Everything she could do to him.
And he just offered that. Just like that. It leaves her for the first time, almost speechless. ]
And if you can't? Jacob, do you really think you can trust me? You don't understand -
[ She grapples with it, trying to spell it out. ]
What if he follows me? What if I lead him back to you? He kills everyone, everyone that crosses him.
[ He laughs, although the cloth around his face makes it difficult, makes it feel strange. ]
Angel, he's going to know this was me. He's going to think I've kidnapped you. I can deal with that. I'm not scared of your father.
[He isn't. There isn't very much Jacob is actually scared of. He's worried for her sakes, fearful of what her father might do to her if she returns to him unsuccessful, and that is why she needs to come to London.]
You need to trust me. I'll look after you.
[ And she'll realise that when he says the assassins will accept her, that he's the only one keeping London safe. If that got back to Jack, there would be trouble. ]
[ She watches him, harsh and flat, over her mask. Her jaw set so hard, deciding, deciding. Heavy with it, as the oil drip, drip, drips onto the floor. ]
Nothing is that easy, Jacob.
[ But she makes up her mind. The bottle the linseed oil splashes all over the floor when she tips it over. By itself, it doesn't do anything as it spills, mingling over the sulfur and turpentine.
Then she drops the cloth.
She shoves him, quick, pushing him out of the way and it's the second that they have. It's just a cloth, maybe, something that anyone could have done. Any worker not paying attention, especially, in something as busy as a munitions factory. With so many chemicals, so many people bustling about could knock it over.
But as it hits the floor, it rubs against itself, and her warning becomes obvious as to way - the material out of nothing, catches on fire. A spark flying off, sudden and hot. Twice the height than is probably needed. The sickly strange tint, when the sulfur melts and burns, releasing a foul smell, and turns red as it goes, like blood leaking out all over the floor.
Then it catches the turpentine and the sound that is all of the air being sucked out of the room as the fire springs up white-hot into life.
And Angel snatches Jacob's hand, and runs, not bothering to look at something she'd done a half dozen times (if not at this scale). They've only got a few seconds before the whole building is going to go up. ]
[ But nothing has to be that complicated. Things can be easy, if you let them be easy. Jacob honestly believes that, but there's no time to argue before that cloth drops. He sees it fall, the fabric weighed down with oil folding in on itself, almost in slow motion.
And then they're moving, her body pushing into his to move him away as the pool of red begins to spread across the floor. It's a beautiful thing to watch, but deadly, and he doesn't give in to the urge to stay and watch. It's pretty, but not worth dying for.
There's a window, glazed with dirty glass and that's closer than the heavy wooden doors to the workshop. He sees it, highlighted in gold, and tugs on her hand, pulling her close to him as his shoulder hits the glass and it shatters with the force of the blow. They tumble out, heat and flame and gas following, and then he's up on his feet again, grabbing her again and running as fast as they can away from the shed, away from the house, away.
It's not until the warehouse, the fire, the shouts are all distant, muffled, that Jacob slows, panting for breath a little, tearing the handkerchief from his face. Behind it, he's grinning from ear to ear.]
[ Running, in a corset, was never the best idea. Running in a corset, that your father had insisted was tight-laced to ensure the most shapely figure? Seemed like a miserable notion.
Running in a corset, that was tight-laced, in a ball gown? Had to be one of the worst ideas she'd ever heard of.
But yet, here she was, doing just that - and paying the price for it when they can finally stop. Finding the nearest surface - a forgiving brick wall - to lean her hand on and desperately try and catch her breath, the other bracing against her stomach. ]
I've never... jumping through a window before. [ Oof, she took a deep breath. Finally starting to able to do that. But that lead to another problem.
Jacob wasn't too bad, but he was wearing leather, and boots, sensible clothes. Her? On the other hand?
This silk was soaked in the smell of it, and her hems were stained, not just by the sulfur and the turpentine but undoubtedly, some of that linseed oil. Oh, no. ] Oh, shi- sugar!
[ Quick as she could, she snatched for the knife in her sleeve that he'd given her, and hastily began to cut herself out of her dress. Slicing down the front of her bodice in one big swipe. Peeling it off her as quickly as possible. ] Get me out of this, quickly. [ Because she needs to get these outer layers off, propriety be damned that they're doing this in a side street, right now, unless she wanted to find out what Nero was going on about with his famous candles, but her as the test subject. ]
[ He can't help laughing, perhaps it's because of surprise and shock, perhaps because he's slightly winded by the pace of the escape, perhaps because escaping fires always puts him in mind of Roth. Laughing is a wonderful distraction.
He doesn't realise, at first, her sudden fear, his nose and throat still coated with the smell of the burning makes it impossible to smell the scent that has come with them on the hems of her skirts. He thinks it's more to do with how out of breath she is, but her panic makes him take it seriously.
He has, at least, a little experience in getting ladies out of clothing, and thankfully this part of town seems remarkably quiet. He's not going to complain, tearing the fabric from her frame and getting her free of it seems far more important, dropping it away from them.]
We haven't even been properly introduced, you know.
[ Her eyes roll, as she finishes shucking the rest of the bodice of her dress. He at least makes it faster, with how he can rip it off, especially when she'd all been but sewn into it for the evening, as the best dresses were.
It is dropped onto the floor, then after it, the skirt goes next, yanking at the ties as quickly as she can to let it fall away at her feet.
It's not like she's lacking in clothes particularly. Corsets, petticoats over petticoats that give the desired shape, her small clothes under that. But - still. It's decided not her clothes. ]
Well, now we have - [ She goes to say more, as she kicks the skirt, and the rest of the torn up clothes out of the way. Which apparently, not a moment too soon.
Fwoomfh. The whole thing goes up in flames, albeit less intensely than the warehouse. Angel yelps, jumping back out of the way before the rest of her goes up in flames too. ] - you can at least give me your jacket.
[ There's a stubborn little jut of her chin, staring up at him, arms crossing over her. The pair of them bathed in the half light of nicely burning dress. ]
[ The sudden whoosh of flame is enough to make Jacob curse- colourfully- probably using words that Jack would hate his precious Angel hearing. Jacob can't help it and doesn't care, but does throw an arm out to try and push her back from the heat and flame.
He's actually taking off his long, heavy coat already, even as she speaks so snobbishly. He's not about to let her freeze, or be stared at. He hands it over wordlessly, and keeps his eyes averted while she slides it on. ]
It's not my fault you set it on fire. But it wasn't a very nice dress. You looked like a meringue. No offence.
[ She might take offence anyway, but he realises that she must have known it was a possibility and she's lucky it hadn't happened sooner. He's got to be grateful that she was quick enough to have saved herself. ]
I... I'm glad you're not hurt. We should get back to London.
[ She sorely wants to poke her tongue out at him. But alas, now wasn't the time. Instead, she just uncrosses her arms, gratefully, to take the jacket off of him, and fold it around her.
At least he isn't a giant, even if it is bigger on her, enough that it covers her from being completely indecent. ] I didn't pick it, Jack did. [ Is her self defensive little mutter, her hands dropping, ]
Thanks... I am not sure what's the best way back. There won't be trains until the morning, or... a carriage, maybe? If we find one.
[ All the intel she has, they never could tell her just how it was the Assassin's got around, anymore she could get numbers on how many Assassin's there truly were in London as a whole.
Guess she would find out and - she worries again. ] Are you sure about this? It's dangerous, Jack could... [ And she's off again, anxious, waiting for him to come to his senses and leave her here. She can't even pretend it wouldn't be for the better. ]
Maybe he should have tried it? Never make someone wear something you wouldn't wear yourself.
[ Yes yes, he knows that such a suggestion is scandalous. But in London, there's far stranger, far more dangerous things than gentlemen who like to slip on petticoats of an evening. Or women who run around in trousers. Then again, as his sister was one of those, and she was extremely dangerous, it's best not to mention.
Instead he gestures her forwards. They aren't too far away from where they need to be, the train tracks, and from there it's a short walk to the sidings.]
No trains till morning? What time table did you look at? There's one due any minute.
[If she doesn't know about the train, he'll keep it that way. Maybe he should blindfold her, although frankly that might not do any good. It's hardly his style either. He guesses she'll just have to know, and if that becomes a problem... then he'll deal with it then.]
I told you before, I'm not scared of him, and you shouldn't be either. Don't let him bully you. Now come on, I don't know about you but I don't much want to hang around here.
[ her mouth opens to argue, after all, they aren't that far from the train station. That yes, she did know, she had every train memorised except for the ones that weren't publicly expressed, like government transports and, yes, she was absolutely sure -
There is a whistle in the distance and Angel frowns, looking towards it. Her teeth clicking shut. What the -
She was wrong? How could she be wrong? She was never wrong about this sort of thing. ]
If you say so. [ But she's so clearly uneasy, watching him. But he was ... just so convincing. He walked like nothing less than God would cut him down. ]
[ He looks up at the whistle, pleased. ] That'll be our train.
[ He offers her his hand, as they continue towards the railway line. Not the station itself, where the authorities might well be, but the industrial sidings where the train will have been waiting since it dropped him off several hours ago. They'd have turned her around now, and no doubt they're getting worried. Not about how long he's been away, but by that explosion and fire. No doubt they could hear that from here.
It doesn't take long to reach the train, beautiful and stately, the paintwork shining in the darkness as they pick their way across the tracks towards it, and a couple of solid looking men smoking outside.]
Come on lads, let's get home.
[ He doesn't mention her, despite their questioning looks. It's not often that Jacob brings a girl back to the train, and he's never brought one back wrapped up in his own coat. He helps her up onto the second carriage from the front, and lets her take it in. It looks like some cross between a study and a gentleman's club, but it's home to Jacob more than anything else is.]
Make yourself at home. Someone will fetch some tea and something stronger, in a minute. Once we're moving.
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He shakes his head at the mention of poison and reaches into his jacket. There's always a couple of knives tucked away. He passes her one, one that he hopes she can stow safely.]
Just in case. I'll be just behind you.
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Angel nods, and then changes again, tugging at her clothes to pull her shift up, tearing it a little, tugging hairs free for her upswept style, until she looks frazzled, blinking quickly, adding a tremble to hitched breaths. When she looks up at him, her eyes are wide, wet, ready with tears.
If not for that sharpness to it. But gone under how she gathers up her skirts, giving him one little nod. ] I'll send the other this way. Be ready.
[ And then she picks up her skirts, and takes off. But oh, she is so little, such a flash of white skin and frilly petticoats as goes off at an unbalanced, terrified run. Towards the two guardsmen, panicked, scared, a little be overdrawn for anyone that might know her - but much like a heroine in a penny-dreadful. ]
Help me, please - there has been an accident! [ She flings at the nearest of the men, into his arms. How forlorn, how slight she looks like that. Weakly sobbing, so overwhelmed, as the man catches her. Tears that make her blue eyes bright, that little bit of dishevelment that gives glimpses of skin, the delicate little beat of her quickened pulse in her throat. ] Please, my friend - over there - !
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But Angel? A woman with probably just as many kills to her name makes even Jacob's heart bleed a little, despite the fact he knows that the only accident that happened here tonight was his own doing. He shifts, listening to the heavier booted footsteps of a man, and then as soon as the mark is literally on top of him, pulls him onto the length of the hidden blade, all the while listening out for Angel.
She doesn't need his help, that's for sure, and he steps out of his hiding place to come to pick up the second body and hide it, just in case. ]
Does that always work that well? The crying and the... helplessness?
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When Jacob reappears, she's pulling the blade out, wiping the blood away on his jacket, went at the waist corsets so unfortunately require. Getting it clean, she retucks it away and lets Jacob takes the body away, following after him as she resecures the blade. ]
Usually. If there - if they're as bad as either of us, then it doesn't work. Because they don't feel very much, so the... crying doesn't work.
[ She sighs a little, ]
Sometimes... it's not about that. Men have only ever looked at me, seen what I am... they think that means that there is nothing I can ever do to hurt them.
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So, in short, he'd probably fall for it hook, line and sinker.] I... I really shouldn't be so surprised.
[But now they have proper work ahead of them, and while he'd normally like to get up on the roof and sink it that way, they've got an unguarded door right in front of them. Why make life harder than it already is?
He pushes the door open, and gestures her in behind him, pushing the door closed again so any light escaping can't be seen from the house, although they have enough problems to deal with. There doesn't seem to be anyone else here this time of night, and he rubs his hands together.]
Let's blow some stuff up, shall we?
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[ She says it with a small smile, following after him. Eyes up as they step through, into the darkened warehouse, laid out before them. The smell of metal parts, leftover burning air, and an array of chemicals.
She wets her lips, then catches her teeth on her bottom lip, gnawing on it in thought as she looks around. Taking stock in a way that is purely clinical, her head tilting a second as she assesses, then looks back to him. ]
Sulfur. I can smell it. They're bound to have more.
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He's not so sure about leaving her alone as he goes to explore the rest of the workshop. It's not small, and there might well be more guards elsewhere. But he meets none of them on his hunt for chemicals, returning only a few minutes after with the container. The stench of it is incredible, even though the barrel is sealed.]
I think I've found the prototype. We focus the explosion there, blow the thing to pieces so no one can put it back together.
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Ah-ha! Turpentine, and was that linseed oil? Probably, for polishing the parts. Strong as the sulfur as she comes back. The bottles in hand, and a few rags. The first, she lifts up and begins tying around the lower part of her face. Nodding to him as he approached. Offering him the other rag if he needed to tie it over his face. ]
Sounds good. [ She looks over it, considering a plan. ] Start dusting it around, over everything, we're going to make this as hard as possible for anyone to come in here afterwards.
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But in front of this lady that sort of stupid bravado probably isn't going to work. She's clearly got a far better understanding of these chemicals than he does. His normal method is to do whatever he's been instructed to do, or just ensure there's a lot of flammable oil over everything, or the place is made of old, dry wood, and throw a match in there.
So the whole place gets a dusting with sulfur, and he tries not to spend the chances he gets watching her. He shouldn't be suspicious still, but she is the daughter of a Templar, and she was ten minutes ago telling him he couldn't kill the bastard back in the house. He just doesn't want her spending too much time with that prototype, just in case she decides to go back to her daddy and tell him everything.
He doesn't think she will, but he's been stabbed in the back too often not to be at least a little cautious.]
When did you learn all this then?
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But not for Jack, and not for the Templar. She wants to desperately understand it and rip it apart and build it again but better.
She just has some sliver of understanding, punctured by that very dead man in the room upstairs, that that sort of thing wouldn't be tolerates. She guessed she'd had a point, too.
So Angel gets to working herself. First with the terpentine, following after him, splashing it after him like spilt water. It smells just as bad as the sulfur if a different clearer, dizzying sort of smell. ]
When I was little, my... Handsome Jack, he took me to the World Fair. A man was presenting his findings for a new kind of train and how it could go faster than ever before. I read it, and I realised, the person was wrong, they had done their calculation incorrectly. I don't know how I knew, I just knew.
I showed it to Jack and... [she shrugs, a little. ] I haven't stopped since. I like studying numbers best. But chemicals, learning what does this and that... It's just as fun. I like learning new things, about the world...
[Angel, no one has ever described math as fun. Or at least that is what Jack would say, so she cuts herself off in a practised way. Focusing on emptying the last of the bottle out.
That done, she goes to the next stage. Linseed oil. That should make it look accidental at least to common eyes. Carefully, so carefully, Angel takes the last of rags, and carefully, so carefully, she begins to dip them in. ] Don't drop these? We'll be incinerated immediately, understood?
[ gingerly, once it's thoroughly soaked, she holds it by one end, dripping oil onto the floor, she holds it by the corner up to him. ]
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You know... that sounds like a real talent.
[ He can't help but be a little impressed, and although part of him say to be cautious about this woman, she has given him the mask to cover his mouth, she has given clear instructions as to why he shouldn't do something. She certainly seems to know what she's talking about. ]
There's a man in London you should meet. Alec. He'd love to have someone to listen to his theories and help him out a bit with experiments.
[ And that might get her away from her father. Safe, out of this place. Handsome Jack can think Jacob has kidnapped her, that will make his life difficult for a while, until he can deal with the man himself but he can't leave her here. That's too dangerous. ]
You... aren't going to stay here, are you? You can't. Not now.
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Just longing, how it strips back that veneer of excitement over doing her work. That ultimate sting of someone, who, in so many ways, has already given up.
Because she doesn't think he means staying here in the burning building. She doesn't think he means back to the party, either. ]
Where else am I going to go? With you? To the hideout of a bunch of Assassins? You know they wouldn't let me in. I've done awful things to your people.
[ And isn't that the right of what Jack has made her do. More damning than even the murder itself. Where was she going to go? Who was ever going to take her in?
She had nowhere else to go. ]
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[ He's a little surprised by her assumption that there's a "bunch of assassins". There's not all that many, not really. There were only three in the whole of London, before Evie and Greenie left. Now it's him and the Rooks, until he can find some more to teach. But dealing with Handsome Jack is the priority.
Hadn't the Templar's realised just how rare a beast the British Brotherhood now was? George back in Crawley is the only one south of London now, and there's very, very few elsewhere.]
You'll be safe, I promise you that. If you want to get away from this, from him, we'll protect you. I'll protect you.
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And he just offered that. Just like that. It leaves her for the first time, almost speechless. ]
And if you can't? Jacob, do you really think you can trust me? You don't understand -
[ She grapples with it, trying to spell it out. ]
What if he follows me? What if I lead him back to you? He kills everyone, everyone that crosses him.
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Angel, he's going to know this was me. He's going to think I've kidnapped you. I can deal with that. I'm not scared of your father.
[He isn't. There isn't very much Jacob is actually scared of. He's worried for her sakes, fearful of what her father might do to her if she returns to him unsuccessful, and that is why she needs to come to London.]
You need to trust me. I'll look after you.
[ And she'll realise that when he says the assassins will accept her, that he's the only one keeping London safe. If that got back to Jack, there would be trouble. ]
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Nothing is that easy, Jacob.
[ But she makes up her mind. The bottle the linseed oil splashes all over the floor when she tips it over. By itself, it doesn't do anything as it spills, mingling over the sulfur and turpentine.
Then she drops the cloth.
She shoves him, quick, pushing him out of the way and it's the second that they have. It's just a cloth, maybe, something that anyone could have done. Any worker not paying attention, especially, in something as busy as a munitions factory. With so many chemicals, so many people bustling about could knock it over.
But as it hits the floor, it rubs against itself, and her warning becomes obvious as to way - the material out of nothing, catches on fire. A spark flying off, sudden and hot. Twice the height than is probably needed. The sickly strange tint, when the sulfur melts and burns, releasing a foul smell, and turns red as it goes, like blood leaking out all over the floor.
Then it catches the turpentine and the sound that is all of the air being sucked out of the room as the fire springs up white-hot into life.
And Angel snatches Jacob's hand, and runs, not bothering to look at something she'd done a half dozen times (if not at this scale). They've only got a few seconds before the whole building is going to go up. ]
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And then they're moving, her body pushing into his to move him away as the pool of red begins to spread across the floor. It's a beautiful thing to watch, but deadly, and he doesn't give in to the urge to stay and watch. It's pretty, but not worth dying for.
There's a window, glazed with dirty glass and that's closer than the heavy wooden doors to the workshop. He sees it, highlighted in gold, and tugs on her hand, pulling her close to him as his shoulder hits the glass and it shatters with the force of the blow. They tumble out, heat and flame and gas following, and then he's up on his feet again, grabbing her again and running as fast as they can away from the shed, away from the house, away.
It's not until the warehouse, the fire, the shouts are all distant, muffled, that Jacob slows, panting for breath a little, tearing the handkerchief from his face. Behind it, he's grinning from ear to ear.]
That was wonderful.
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Running in a corset, that was tight-laced, in a ball gown? Had to be one of the worst ideas she'd ever heard of.
But yet, here she was, doing just that - and paying the price for it when they can finally stop. Finding the nearest surface - a forgiving brick wall - to lean her hand on and desperately try and catch her breath, the other bracing against her stomach. ]
I've never... jumping through a window before. [ Oof, she took a deep breath. Finally starting to able to do that. But that lead to another problem.
Jacob wasn't too bad, but he was wearing leather, and boots, sensible clothes. Her? On the other hand?
This silk was soaked in the smell of it, and her hems were stained, not just by the sulfur and the turpentine but undoubtedly, some of that linseed oil. Oh, no. ] Oh, shi- sugar!
[ Quick as she could, she snatched for the knife in her sleeve that he'd given her, and hastily began to cut herself out of her dress. Slicing down the front of her bodice in one big swipe. Peeling it off her as quickly as possible. ] Get me out of this, quickly. [ Because she needs to get these outer layers off, propriety be damned that they're doing this in a side street, right now, unless she wanted to find out what Nero was going on about with his famous candles, but her as the test subject. ]
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He doesn't realise, at first, her sudden fear, his nose and throat still coated with the smell of the burning makes it impossible to smell the scent that has come with them on the hems of her skirts. He thinks it's more to do with how out of breath she is, but her panic makes him take it seriously.
He has, at least, a little experience in getting ladies out of clothing, and thankfully this part of town seems remarkably quiet. He's not going to complain, tearing the fabric from her frame and getting her free of it seems far more important, dropping it away from them.]
We haven't even been properly introduced, you know.
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It is dropped onto the floor, then after it, the skirt goes next, yanking at the ties as quickly as she can to let it fall away at her feet.
It's not like she's lacking in clothes particularly. Corsets, petticoats over petticoats that give the desired shape, her small clothes under that. But - still. It's decided not her clothes. ]
Well, now we have - [ She goes to say more, as she kicks the skirt, and the rest of the torn up clothes out of the way. Which apparently, not a moment too soon.
Fwoomfh. The whole thing goes up in flames, albeit less intensely than the warehouse. Angel yelps, jumping back out of the way before the rest of her goes up in flames too. ] - you can at least give me your jacket.
[ There's a stubborn little jut of her chin, staring up at him, arms crossing over her. The pair of them bathed in the half light of nicely burning dress. ]
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He's actually taking off his long, heavy coat already, even as she speaks so snobbishly. He's not about to let her freeze, or be stared at. He hands it over wordlessly, and keeps his eyes averted while she slides it on. ]
It's not my fault you set it on fire. But it wasn't a very nice dress. You looked like a meringue. No offence.
[ She might take offence anyway, but he realises that she must have known it was a possibility and she's lucky it hadn't happened sooner. He's got to be grateful that she was quick enough to have saved herself. ]
I... I'm glad you're not hurt. We should get back to London.
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At least he isn't a giant, even if it is bigger on her, enough that it covers her from being completely indecent. ] I didn't pick it, Jack did. [ Is her self defensive little mutter, her hands dropping, ]
Thanks... I am not sure what's the best way back. There won't be trains until the morning, or... a carriage, maybe? If we find one.
[ All the intel she has, they never could tell her just how it was the Assassin's got around, anymore she could get numbers on how many Assassin's there truly were in London as a whole.
Guess she would find out and - she worries again. ] Are you sure about this? It's dangerous, Jack could... [ And she's off again, anxious, waiting for him to come to his senses and leave her here. She can't even pretend it wouldn't be for the better. ]
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[ Yes yes, he knows that such a suggestion is scandalous. But in London, there's far stranger, far more dangerous things than gentlemen who like to slip on petticoats of an evening. Or women who run around in trousers. Then again, as his sister was one of those, and she was extremely dangerous, it's best not to mention.
Instead he gestures her forwards. They aren't too far away from where they need to be, the train tracks, and from there it's a short walk to the sidings.]
No trains till morning? What time table did you look at? There's one due any minute.
[If she doesn't know about the train, he'll keep it that way. Maybe he should blindfold her, although frankly that might not do any good. It's hardly his style either. He guesses she'll just have to know, and if that becomes a problem... then he'll deal with it then.]
I told you before, I'm not scared of him, and you shouldn't be either. Don't let him bully you. Now come on, I don't know about you but I don't much want to hang around here.
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There is a whistle in the distance and Angel frowns, looking towards it. Her teeth clicking shut. What the -
She was wrong? How could she be wrong? She was never wrong about this sort of thing. ]
If you say so. [ But she's so clearly uneasy, watching him. But he was ... just so convincing. He walked like nothing less than God would cut him down. ]
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[ He offers her his hand, as they continue towards the railway line. Not the station itself, where the authorities might well be, but the industrial sidings where the train will have been waiting since it dropped him off several hours ago. They'd have turned her around now, and no doubt they're getting worried. Not about how long he's been away, but by that explosion and fire. No doubt they could hear that from here.
It doesn't take long to reach the train, beautiful and stately, the paintwork shining in the darkness as they pick their way across the tracks towards it, and a couple of solid looking men smoking outside.]
Come on lads, let's get home.
[ He doesn't mention her, despite their questioning looks. It's not often that Jacob brings a girl back to the train, and he's never brought one back wrapped up in his own coat. He helps her up onto the second carriage from the front, and lets her take it in. It looks like some cross between a study and a gentleman's club, but it's home to Jacob more than anything else is.]
Make yourself at home. Someone will fetch some tea and something stronger, in a minute. Once we're moving.
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