The gang? The worst criminal gang to come out of the streets? Everyone's heard of them. [ Is her disbelief, sharply watching him. To say nothing of the rest of it. She knew her place, and maybe, maybe things were different with Assassins, but she knew her life was always going to be easier if they had no reason to look at her too hard.
Just like he had apparently worked out, and she snaps to him, as things happen, turning back to him with her eyes bright. ]
You've been using the Rooks - [ She's catching up, quickly. Faster and faster and - ] You've been using the Rooks as a cover, and that's why I haven't - and the train. Of course, the train, that explains the reports! [ And she beams at him, laughing. ] That's genius! No wonder no one can figure out your location!
[ She trips a step when the train lurches into motion. Stumbling over to where he was sitting, and that's proper too. Her legs neatly crossed at the ankle, turning slightly to face him, hands that are placed in her lap, fingers hooked together. ]
[ The look on his face is proud, smug. The Rooks are his, through and through, born out of his imagination and hard work, and now here they are, on a train full of them. A fearsome gang that terrifies the upper crust and yet champions the poor and the oppressed. That's always what he wanted. ]
Not using. We're a team. The Rooks have their part to play in looking after London.
[ And a larger part to play in explaining why two twenty-one-year-olds were able to break the Templar stranglehold that had existed in London for almost a hundred years. But that's another story, one she already knows. Although probably a very biased account of it.]
I'm not just a pretty face. We'll be in London in a couple of hours, if the lines are clear.
[ That, she clearly approves of. She's used people like the Rooks. But that's what it was. Used. She moved them like chess pieces on a board, and there was no better way to put it. Something that flickers, as she watches him, her head tilting. He could be worse, with him, is what comes with it. Something viciously efficient if he disregarded everyone else below him.
But he didn't.
Jack really was lying about that too. ]
Uhm. If it's not too much of a problem - I might... need something to wear.
[ He looks over her, as if only just realising she's still huddled in his coat, and then he gets to his feet, moving to the front of the safe and opening the door.
There's a key in there, amongst the other treasures, but the door is shut far too quickly to identify some of those goodies, or how much cash is in there. He gestures her up, to follow him. ]
This way. I don't think Evie will mind too much.
[ And if she does, they'll just have to fight about it when, and if, she ever comes back from India. Apparently she's having a wonderful time exploring the Indus Valley, whatever that is.
So he unlocks the carriage door, and lights one of the gas lamps not used since Evie left England. He doesn't know why he locked it, but he did, and now it's pretty much the way it always was. Neat, tidy, full of books. And the little wardrobe just here.]
[ Stop hiding the interesting looking things from her, Jacob!
Because curiosity is definitely going to kill this cat eventually. But thankfully, not today, she manages to keep it to herself as she follows after Jacob, trotting after him.
The wardrobe is... well. It's something, she guesses. ... A lot less. A lot, lot less. Don't pout Angel, what do you expect? ]
Uhm, thank you.
[ Carefully, she takes off his jacket. Dropping it away off her arms, and gently placing it aside. Then takes a step forward to begin shifting between clothes, one after another, black, black, black and grey? Black and red? White - pants, pants, long coat, pants - oh dear. ]
I'll need to call a maid... ?
[ Angel, you're on a train, with the Assassins, and everyone who isn't an assassin is clearly a street thug. What are you asking for? ]
[ Jacob smiles, a strange, one-sided, amused grin that is a little bit... arrogant. Maids clean houses, or did, when he was younger. Maids helps the cook. You don't need a maid to help you get dressed.]
Look-
[ He reaches past her, takes down on of the pairs of dark trousers Evie preferred, and holds them out to her. ] You just put your legs in the top bits.
But... [ He glances at her, what she's actually wearing. Who knows what fancy ladies wear under petticoats? ] There's girls in the Rooks. I'll see if any are aboard and can help you. With... smalls.
[ She says it not like a question, but like a dawning realisation. Oh. Oh... no. She blinks at him a bit wide-eyed. Confused a second. How is she going to get out of this - how is she going to explain how to get out of this-? ] Jacob, I don't...
Uh - [ She looks at the pants, then back at him, then back at the pants. ] But that's for - [ Men. Is the confused words at the end, but doesn't quite get there. He's trying, she can appreciate that. Maybe it would be better if he did find someone else, he was probably going to find it a nightmare. But then - they'd see. They'd see and they'd talk. Maybe that was inevitable, but it might compromise him if he found out last.
That he'd taken on a freak. ] It might be better. If... you do. It will just take a minute.
[ Evie dresses herself. The only thing she ever asks for help with is her hair, and even then it's simply because it's easier to have a second pair of hands when pinning them at the back. None of her clothes is the fancy sort Angel is used to. In fact, Evie has bemoaned every dress and every corset she has ever had to wear.
But Angel seems distressed, although Jacob can't think why. He's seen enough women naked to know there are differences, important ones, but he can't see exactly what the problem is. Best not to think too long on it. ]
...Let me fetch someone.
[ And so he does. Of course, it's not until he's showing Ruthie back into the carriage that he wonders if Angel just wanted a few minutes alone in the carriage to nose around, but anything of any real importance Evie took with her. But Angel seems to be where Jacob left her, nothing moved, and so he makes his excuses to leave the ladies alone, and slips back into his own carriage for a quick, stiff drink. ]
[ There isn't another word for it: uncomfortable. When he brings someone else.
Jack's servants, they always looked down. Maybe because they knew there was something wrong with her. No respectable lady looked as she did. No respectable lady would have to be covered up in this kind of shame.
She held her coat tightly to her throat. Rising when Jacob and his... Friend? Came in. Despite his warnings, she bobs in greeting to them both.
Then he's gone, and at least the woman - Ruthie, she said her name was. Gets to business without much talking, and more than anything doesn't tell her anything like Jacob had. About this just being pants or about why it might be hard.
No, Ruthie does the best thing in the world, when she gets a look at Angel after helping her with the pins, the laces, the ties. The endless amount of hair pieces, flowers, ribbons. She looks at Angel once the last of the buttons and undone and she's just down to her smalls and a delta worth of blue markings that cover her entire left side with a whistle. Didn't know fine ladies had it in em. That's some nice work.
And Angel is so much brighter for it, a little bit more with every second. Taking eagerly to the pants, the waist coat - well Evie was shaped a little different, tighter on the hips looser on the chest. That wound be fine, she wasn't here to look good. Even if she was ready to part with the corset just yet.
So that when she finally sticks her head out, and Ruthie has finished her making look like a proper dodger, to use her term. Angel is much diminished in shape, no longer needing a meter in distance either side, hair no longer a hangman's worth of intricate braids on top of her head, instead black and loose, it falls down her shoulders. She's just a young woman, a little too thin, too pale, covered still from neck to wrist to ankle.
But at least one that was sensibly dressed. ]
So, uhm, do I look the part?
[ she grins at him a little, but for once it's sincere if shy. ]
[ Jacob doesn't understand and he won't gain any understanding from Ruthie either, at any point now or in the future. They don't break a confidence, his Rooks. He's proud of them for that. Thieves and brutes but they have honour.
He isn't waiting long for them both to reappear but he's nor expecting Angel to look so happy, so confident in unfamiliar and unladylike clothing. He stands when she puts her head around the door, pleased that she hasn't withdrawn into herself.
Maybe in a way, casting off those layers is casting off some of the fear of Jack, a little with every ribbon and every fold of petticoat.]
You look like you'd come raid a warehouse with me. But maybe not tonight, all things considered.
Thanks, Ruthie.
[ He adds as the girl passes them, her hand going to the brim of the bowler, tipping first to him and to Angel. ]
[ With that all done, she waves good-bye to Ruthie, waving her hand briefly and the brief promise of if she needed anything in exchange in the future.
It certainly was easier to walk around, she had to give that. When she drops back into a seat. Stretching out both her legs, looking down at them both. The boots not polished to a shine, but more serviceable then her dancing shoes. ]
I don't think I'd be much good for raiding warehouses. [ It's laughed, she doesn't mind it particularly. ] Climbing out of one window is enough for the night.
I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. By the time we get back to London, it'll be too light to do anything.
[He says, getting up off the chaise-lounge and moving towards the map of London that he'd taken from Evie's room when she left, hanging it up on the wall that used to be adorned with the faces of their targets. All gone, all dead.
But perhaps not all of them. There's Jack, and while the man doesn't frighten him, he needs to be dealt with. Angel will never be free otherwise.
He glances back, about to ask if she would prefer to be in a hotel than on the train, but there's no need to ask. She's asleep, stretched out, and it's all he can do to gently cover her with a blanket, and let her sleep off the excitement.]
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no subject
Just like he had apparently worked out, and she snaps to him, as things happen, turning back to him with her eyes bright. ]
You've been using the Rooks - [ She's catching up, quickly. Faster and faster and - ] You've been using the Rooks as a cover, and that's why I haven't - and the train. Of course, the train, that explains the reports! [ And she beams at him, laughing. ] That's genius! No wonder no one can figure out your location!
[ She trips a step when the train lurches into motion. Stumbling over to where he was sitting, and that's proper too. Her legs neatly crossed at the ankle, turning slightly to face him, hands that are placed in her lap, fingers hooked together. ]
no subject
Not using. We're a team. The Rooks have their part to play in looking after London.
[ And a larger part to play in explaining why two twenty-one-year-olds were able to break the Templar stranglehold that had existed in London for almost a hundred years. But that's another story, one she already knows. Although probably a very biased account of it.]
I'm not just a pretty face. We'll be in London in a couple of hours, if the lines are clear.
no subject
But he didn't.
Jack really was lying about that too. ]
Uhm. If it's not too much of a problem - I might... need something to wear.
no subject
There's a key in there, amongst the other treasures, but the door is shut far too quickly to identify some of those goodies, or how much cash is in there. He gestures her up, to follow him. ]
This way. I don't think Evie will mind too much.
[ And if she does, they'll just have to fight about it when, and if, she ever comes back from India. Apparently she's having a wonderful time exploring the Indus Valley, whatever that is.
So he unlocks the carriage door, and lights one of the gas lamps not used since Evie left England. He doesn't know why he locked it, but he did, and now it's pretty much the way it always was. Neat, tidy, full of books. And the little wardrobe just here.]
You look about the same size. Help yourself.
no subject
Because curiosity is definitely going to kill this cat eventually. But thankfully, not today, she manages to keep it to herself as she follows after Jacob, trotting after him.
The wardrobe is... well. It's something, she guesses. ... A lot less. A lot, lot less. Don't pout Angel, what do you expect? ]
Uhm, thank you.
[ Carefully, she takes off his jacket. Dropping it away off her arms, and gently placing it aside. Then takes a step forward to begin shifting between clothes, one after another, black, black, black and grey? Black and red? White - pants, pants, long coat, pants - oh dear. ]
I'll need to call a maid... ?
[ Angel, you're on a train, with the Assassins, and everyone who isn't an assassin is clearly a street thug. What are you asking for? ]
no subject
[ Jacob smiles, a strange, one-sided, amused grin that is a little bit... arrogant. Maids clean houses, or did, when he was younger. Maids helps the cook. You don't need a maid to help you get dressed.]
Look-
[ He reaches past her, takes down on of the pairs of dark trousers Evie preferred, and holds them out to her. ] You just put your legs in the top bits.
But... [ He glances at her, what she's actually wearing. Who knows what fancy ladies wear under petticoats? ] There's girls in the Rooks. I'll see if any are aboard and can help you. With... smalls.
no subject
[ She says it not like a question, but like a dawning realisation. Oh. Oh... no. She blinks at him a bit wide-eyed. Confused a second. How is she going to get out of this - how is she going to explain how to get out of this-? ] Jacob, I don't...
Uh - [ She looks at the pants, then back at him, then back at the pants. ] But that's for - [ Men. Is the confused words at the end, but doesn't quite get there. He's trying, she can appreciate that. Maybe it would be better if he did find someone else, he was probably going to find it a nightmare. But then - they'd see. They'd see and they'd talk. Maybe that was inevitable, but it might compromise him if he found out last.
That he'd taken on a freak. ] It might be better. If... you do. It will just take a minute.
no subject
[ Evie dresses herself. The only thing she ever asks for help with is her hair, and even then it's simply because it's easier to have a second pair of hands when pinning them at the back. None of her clothes is the fancy sort Angel is used to. In fact, Evie has bemoaned every dress and every corset she has ever had to wear.
But Angel seems distressed, although Jacob can't think why. He's seen enough women naked to know there are differences, important ones, but he can't see exactly what the problem is. Best not to think too long on it. ]
...Let me fetch someone.
[ And so he does. Of course, it's not until he's showing Ruthie back into the carriage that he wonders if Angel just wanted a few minutes alone in the carriage to nose around, but anything of any real importance Evie took with her. But Angel seems to be where Jacob left her, nothing moved, and so he makes his excuses to leave the ladies alone, and slips back into his own carriage for a quick, stiff drink. ]
no subject
Jack's servants, they always looked down. Maybe because they knew there was something wrong with her. No respectable lady looked as she did. No respectable lady would have to be covered up in this kind of shame.
She held her coat tightly to her throat. Rising when Jacob and his... Friend? Came in. Despite his warnings, she bobs in greeting to them both.
Then he's gone, and at least the woman - Ruthie, she said her name was. Gets to business without much talking, and more than anything doesn't tell her anything like Jacob had. About this just being pants or about why it might be hard.
No, Ruthie does the best thing in the world, when she gets a look at Angel after helping her with the pins, the laces, the ties. The endless amount of hair pieces, flowers, ribbons. She looks at Angel once the last of the buttons and undone and she's just down to her smalls and a delta worth of blue markings that cover her entire left side with a whistle. Didn't know fine ladies had it in em. That's some nice work.
And Angel is so much brighter for it, a little bit more with every second. Taking eagerly to the pants, the waist coat - well Evie was shaped a little different, tighter on the hips looser on the chest. That wound be fine, she wasn't here to look good. Even if she was ready to part with the corset just yet.
So that when she finally sticks her head out, and Ruthie has finished her making look like a proper dodger, to use her term. Angel is much diminished in shape, no longer needing a meter in distance either side, hair no longer a hangman's worth of intricate braids on top of her head, instead black and loose, it falls down her shoulders. She's just a young woman, a little too thin, too pale, covered still from neck to wrist to ankle.
But at least one that was sensibly dressed. ]
So, uhm, do I look the part?
[ she grins at him a little, but for once it's sincere if shy. ]
no subject
He isn't waiting long for them both to reappear but he's nor expecting Angel to look so happy, so confident in unfamiliar and unladylike clothing. He stands when she puts her head around the door, pleased that she hasn't withdrawn into herself.
Maybe in a way, casting off those layers is casting off some of the fear of Jack, a little with every ribbon and every fold of petticoat.]
You look like you'd come raid a warehouse with me. But maybe not tonight, all things considered.
Thanks, Ruthie.
[ He adds as the girl passes them, her hand going to the brim of the bowler, tipping first to him and to Angel. ]
no subject
It certainly was easier to walk around, she had to give that. When she drops back into a seat. Stretching out both her legs, looking down at them both. The boots not polished to a shine, but more serviceable then her dancing shoes. ]
I don't think I'd be much good for raiding warehouses. [ It's laughed, she doesn't mind it particularly. ] Climbing out of one window is enough for the night.
no subject
[He says, getting up off the chaise-lounge and moving towards the map of London that he'd taken from Evie's room when she left, hanging it up on the wall that used to be adorned with the faces of their targets. All gone, all dead.
But perhaps not all of them. There's Jack, and while the man doesn't frighten him, he needs to be dealt with. Angel will never be free otherwise.
He glances back, about to ask if she would prefer to be in a hotel than on the train, but there's no need to ask. She's asleep, stretched out, and it's all he can do to gently cover her with a blanket, and let her sleep off the excitement.]