asgardmeridiem | Strangers in the night

Entry tags:

Strangers in the night

Who: Jim Moriarty (

prettygrimm) & Sebastian Moran (

zothiquekey).
What: ~~Sebastian wants to take Jim on a date!~~ A meeting has been arranged
When: Day 127 (night)
Where: Loki District
Rating: F for Friends who do stuff together! (pg-13?)

James Moriarty was no stranger to the concept of a blind meeting. There were all kinds of variables to think of, especially with one so...antagonistic as this. He didn't bother arranging for weapons to be left behind or for her to come alone. Lying was too easy. Coming prepared was the only way to ensure he wouldn't have any unfortunate accidents. Sadly, trust was a slow thing to build and while there were certain peoples he could contact to watch his back ... he didn't believe that he would be out of danger even with eyes in the dark.

So there he was: alone, unarmed (at least it looked that way) and in the dark. Waiting for a woman.

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She arrived a short while after him, dressed in something a bit different than her usual attire: dark slacks, a tidy black jacket, and burgundy tie. Opting for something more low-key was always a wise decision, rather than drawing eyes with the bright color of her uniform.

As the rush of faceless people in the afternoon slowed to a trickle in the evening, probably hurrying to their homes or various vices, one person lingered. She had seen this other Moriarty's face once before, and she was always jarred by his appearance, in comparison to her memories of a much different man. There was nothing familiar about him: he was too youthful, too small, too wrong.

She kept her steps quiet as she approached the sole figure, the hand with the broken fingers tucked into her pocket, holding herself with same unforgiving, strict posture as usual.

"...Mr. Moriarty." Even saying his name left her with a bitter taste. She still insisted on using a deeper tone than what came naturally, but this time, it was not in any deliberate effort to cultivate an air of masculinity. She did not want to be overheard; knowing the man, he could have had one of her own alternates nearby to witness the scene.

"Moran."

He doesn't bother giving her the title of 'Miss', both a choice and something that was automatic. Jim only watched her carefully as she stood there; dissecting her with his reptile-like glare.

The smile he wears is a contrast and only meant to irritate and displace her.

"To what reason do I owe this visit?"

The Moriarty she was familiar with was always more of a monster than a man. He was what kept children awake at night and sobbing for their mothers, the criminal so devious that detectives could only spin helpless circles around him. So, beneath this other man's gaze, she cannot deny that she was just a tad disappointed. Whichever Sebastian Moran belonged to him was to be pitied.

And his smile is like sandpaper against skin.

"I wanted confirmation." Proof. Evidence. Who was he to claim her master's name? Where were the records of his infamy?

His shoulders go up in a big shrug. He didn't feel the least bit obligated to rattle off evidence of who he was, that Moran expected it only served to sadden him. As much as he could be.

"I don't carry a resume around with me, darling. And I don't leave records."

There was the slighest pause before he spoke again; his tone light and meant to bite at Moran just a bit.

"You of all people should know that."

She hadn't expected him to reveal every crime or misdeed he had committed, she had just expected, at the very least, some kind of resemblance. Otherwise, he was no better than a third-rate imposter to her, nothing more than a mere charalatan. While her alternates may have been happy to serve anyone who bore the name of Moriarty, she wasn't.

"I'd like to know what you meant before." She had never gotten any clear answer behind his inexplicable text, nor had she ever learnt of his relationship with his own Sherlock Holmes and Moran. Every time she wanted answers, she received silence or a change of topics.

Which, now that she remembered, wasn't that far off from how her master treated her. But at the very least, he never subjected her to irritating pet names.

"In-cin-tive," he said in a sing-song voice while rocking onto his heels.

A cruel sort of smile wrapped around his teeth and he closed the space between them. He was up to something, but what?

As he moved closer, she remained in place, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. Normally, she would view him as nothing but juvenile, but his smile had changed—it looked less like a mocking smirk, instead shifting into something sharper, colder. As if peeling away the childish mask, and revealing just a hint of something sinister beneath.

A coldness that she was very familiar with.

"I had once offered you information on the Sherlock Holmes and the John Watson of my world." She replied, "Is there something else you want?"

"You should know what I want."

But, of course, how could she? Jim prided himself on being unreadable and while this Moran was used to her own version of the mastermind, he would maintain his approach of being just soooo changeable, if not for fun then what else?

Everything was approached with the mindset of entertainment.

Really, what he wanted was for her to say she couldn't read him. That he was blank. That terrified enough people...would it her? As much as Moriarty maintained that she could never really know him - she did...in a strange way of it's own.

She had only a vague inkling of an idea. Despite how transparent he had seemed, it was clear now that she had misjudged him. She had no idea what this man was thinking, and while he may act like a boy in his prime, there was definitely a clever and quick mind underneath it all. It was maddening.

There was nothing in his gaze which gave even the smallest hint. If not Holmes nor Watson, then what about her James Moriarty? Perhaps he was the sort who was eager to prove his worth against his alternates, similar to how she was superior to the empty-headed fool with the atrocious facial hair.

"...My master?" She pronounced the words carefully, intently studying his expression. Had she gotten it right?

He shrugged his shoulders and frowned; an exaggerated expression. Extremely unhelpful but when was he anything but to those who didn't ask for his help in the nasty things they just didn't want to do?

"It may do." Purposefully vague as he evaluated her. He was only interested in one Sherlock Holmes, because - as far as he was concerned - he was the only one who could match him. You're not ordinary. You're me.

His eyes flickered close half a moment before that asp's smile was back. Hearing about himself, on the other hand...

"James Moriarty, also known as M. Black hair, blue eyes. He appears to be in his late forties. As for any distinguishing features, he wears an eyepatch over his left eye." She paused, carefully scrutinizing his expression. Still smiling, his eyes half-lidded as if musing over a private joke. Just a physical description of the man wouldn't satisfy him, so she continued.

"He and I work for a criminal organization. Occasionally, clients come to him, looking to make a contract. If they agree to his terms, their wish will be fulfilled." Most of them rarely ever saw the finishing product of their agreement, but she held her tongue.

His placid expression replaced instantly with something far more cartoonish that could really only be described as disappointment.

"Well, that is dreadfully interesting," he drawled, sounding incredibly bored and really not the slightest bit genuine. He was expecting so much more and was just met with another something he didn't approve of. It didn't downplay the very real possibility that her version of himself was capable and intelligent but it just didn't get him in a tizzy.

"Now what was it you wanted again?" Playing the forgetful.

"Evidence." Her voice had lowered almost to an impatient growl, but she kept her composure firmly together. There was more to this man than she had assumed, and she was playing directly into his spidery hands. What else could she offer of value? He had reacted fairly well to bribery, and the bait of information about the master, yet now he seemed exhausted of it.

She had already given up basic information without delving into gory detail, and he would probably find any mention of her personal relationship with the man to be worthless. Nothing seemed to hold his attention for more than a few moments, but he had agreed to see her nonetheless. Hoping for just some mild amusement? Or was there something else, some piece he desired that she had chosen to withhold?

Seeing as he had not yet committed any dastardly deeds besides arranging for someone to die at a later date - he has nothing to offer. Not that he'd give her anything to begin with, having nothing of a record here is just another excuse for 'No'.

"You'll just have to sit and wait with the rest of the boys and girls."

He looks her up and down as if he's appraising her before simpering, "Think you can manage that, darling?"

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Strangers in the night

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