Open 'verse RP [Open -- Separate threads fine]

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He'd come home out of some weird need to find his roots, again. Or something. At the current moment he couldn't remember. Souvenir shops lined the streets he roamed too long ago. The house had burned over three centuries before and even the alleys were swept now. There had been nothing to bury, and no money for more than a mass grave had there been, so there were no markers, nothing to see, nothing to kneel at.

Wandering into the new St. Paul's, built after he left, after the fire that took them, he nonetheless felt something settle. He sat in a pew for hours, trying to remember what it had felt like when he came home, saw this, sat here the first time, a different man. Not Matthew. Not Takezo Kensei. Something else, someone else. A man without country, time, family.

For a time, he'd thought to find it again, but now the dream seemed farther away than it had even when trapped in that cell, and he was cold.

It was well after dusk when he left. He found a pub, a table in a corner, and with a wry smile that cursed all the years in between, he ordered a whiskey and asked the bartender to leave the bottle, working to bury himself in the one thing left that had any familiarity or link to the old.

Comments

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Adam watched her sign, frowning a bit. "You didn't have to pay...." Even if really he doubted there was much concern, given her financial schemes. He really had to get involved in those.

He got to his feet, just a bit unsteady. "It's London. Everywhere is close enough to walk." Which was a gross exaggeration.

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The Rani smiled, linking her arm gently through one of his. "I realise it's the gentleman in you protesting so hard," she murmured, bemused. "And I appreciate that. But in all fairness, I'm the one who demanded the more expensive drinks. And I don't mind indulging those I'm fond of. Happy Christmas. Now... where are we headed?"

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He placed his free hand over hers, squeezing a little as they stepped out into the cold. "Thank you, then. I'm still leery of using cards, and haven't managed to get any in an alias yet. Little details of life that I keep letting slide by." He nodded his head in the direction of home, feeling it, knowing where he was in this his city.

"Covent Garden."

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"Dylan can arrange that for you as well, if you like," she replied, "To be completely honest, I'd no idea about any of this sort of thing until I met him. He's quite good at what he does. I've identification, passports, credit cards, degrees, an entire life story, in papers and bits of plastic."

She fell into step easily beside him, her long strides matching his own. "Covent Garden. I vaguely know where that is."

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"Really?" he asked, tilting his head. "I used to have people for that, but after my ... incarceration, most of my contacts are either retired or dead. It's hard to build a network from scratch again, when it had been so self-perpetuating."

He smiled a little. "It used to be the theatre district, the opera, the artists lived there. I've always preferred being around creative people."

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'I never used to have people for anything," the Rani mused. "It served me well enough for a while, but... between you and me, it's easier, and comforting, having them now. Dylan and I can of course help you with whatever you need, Adam."

She nodded a bit. "Did you find it inspiring? Or comforting?"

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He gave her a searching look, then nodded. "I would appreciate it. It's better, of course, to be self-sufficient, but passports and credit cards and papers have all changed and become so much more technically difficult to forge that I find myself lagging in the know-how to do so. And using the established credit I have as 'Adam Monroe' is far too easy for the Company to track. I have the funds, and my banker hardly cares what name I use, and knows what I am, so that is useful. But the rest..." His smile was a touch rueful.

"A bit of both. The freedom, the acceptance. Artists are far more open minded than most, and while I can conform to societal norms, I prefer to be on the fringes for my own comfort."

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"Mmm. I should meet your banker. Dylan's a genius but there's only so much he can do as one man. Having a discreet, reliable bank would make his life--and by extension my own--much easier."

She canted her head slightly, and then nodded. "I can see that. That acceptance is a powerful thing. Though what is it about the fringes that you find so comfortable?"

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"I can set up a meeting if you like. His name is Robert Grayson--at least currently. He's very discreet."

He smiled a bit. "It's where I've always been--on the edges, never quite fitting in. I wouldn't know what to do if I did."

[thisway-comes.livejournal.com]

The Rani came to a halt right there in the middle of the sidewalk, and since she was holding Adam's arm, it very likely pulled him to a halt as well.

"Robert Grayson? I know the man. Though..."

She grinned faintly.

"He may not know me just yet. Still. Feels as if the universe gets smaller and smaller by the day. No matter. Which way from here?"

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"You know him?" He was a bit too drunk to be very surprised. Hsu knew anyone who was anyone.

He glanced around to get his bearings, then nodded in the direction, and snuggled her arm back into the crook of his as he moved that way.

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"I do," she replied. A smirk played at the corners of her mouth. "Or I will do, sometime next year. He hired me on to do a job for him, once. We aren't exactly close personal friends or anything, but I know him."

She glanced down at their arms with a bemused smile as he tugged hers back into his, falling into step once more, indulging him further by placing her free hand on his arm just above his elbow, leaning in just a bit closer.