[YOU SAID YOU WANTED A HEART BREAKING MESSAGE MAN I OBLIGED YOU.]
HEARTBREAKING IS ‘We never did see Paris.’ OR SOME SHIT
THIS WAS TEXTUAL HOMICIDE
I REGRET NOTHING
Stepping out for tea // Jessica Greyson
The young woman had said he was a mystery to her. The feeling was mutual. Everything he’d heard from those he’d questioned were about Pretty Baby. There was no other name he’d heard for her. No other story.
Sebastian knew enough to realize that wasn’t the case.
He studied her for a moment before leaning forward. The question on the tip of his tongue. It was a sensitive question, the sort of thing Sebastian wouldn’t appreciate in parallel to his career, but things were going well and he may be able to afford one mistake. “I don’t mean to overstep my bounds, but what is it that you gain from being Pretty Baby?”
He may not use information in the same way as his employer or as his current company, but Sebastian understood its importance.
Ah, now there was a question. One with too many answers, and too few. For there was so many options now, that simply weren’t available then. All these women today, avoiding the streets, creating new lives.
At 16, cold and desperate, there was nothing else. Just giving in to the looks she received. The offers. The bargain in the eyes of every man.
And she was good. The whispers started the more clients she endured. On how the girl with the baby face could get under their skin. It wasn’t difficult when one was so often underestimated.
"Information. Finances and a reputation that can’t be bought, dear."
“Please refrain from whining. Really, it’s not flattering. Maybe if you’re a good pet I’ll give you a job that’s more advanced.”
"Whining? Not at all, darling, simply observing.”
First impressions are easily manipulated, dear. Misleading, messy little things.
Hm, they really are. But the fact of the matter is that I don’t like you very much; which is going to make your job a hell of a lot harder.
Shall we go?
We shall. Where to, dear?
It’s been far too long. I do apologise, but matters needed attending to. Loose ends to tie up and the like.
Without a word, Richard walked out of the cafe, not even glancing to see if she was following behind him. He just knew she was. “You’d make a good secretary.” He remarked, smirking. “At least until I know you… and I can keep my eye on you. Jim makes me do phone calls and paperwork… and such tedious work bores me to tears. I could use a break. It’s nothing dangerous but… well, I’m a dangerous person. So you should probably do as I say.” It sounded like an empty threat because he said it with such an air of nonchalance.
"Should I just?”
"A secretary? How thrilling. Paperwork and acting as your lackey, I can barely contain myself.”
Stepping out for tea // Jessica Greyson
“Who says I’m not trying?” Sebastian replied, “though I’m not wanting to tarnish your reputation, just see past it.”Reputations were crafted things, clever people made to seem dim, innocent made to seem guilty, the small could be made to seem terrifying. There was power in reputation, but not always truth. Things were done to protect people’s own reputations and they shifted others. Sebastian had ruined a few reputations before and his boss had built some just to tear down.“It’s a dangerous job, wanting to find people who prefer not to be found.” Sebastian noted. “Not many people pull it off well. Moriarty does it to own them, and you do it for fun.” There was respect in his voice. If the young woman had ever heard of curiosity killing the cat she had decided to make her own rules.“I love my job, and relish the downtime. Including the days I have company for coffee.” Sebastian added before taking another drink. The contrast between the calm and the battlefield was far more exhilarating to him than the diluted, level lives most lived.
This man, with all his danger and his own reputation that followed him, was not at all expected. Surely, everything about him should be a warning, something Jessica could file away and ensure that nothing would happen to her. That he wouldn’t lash out and she would feel the brunt of it all.
"I’m happy to please, my darling," she smirked, noting the tone of approval, verging on awe in his tone. Impressed? Interesting. Surely a man, with everything about him written in blood, couldn’t be impressed by one such as her? To the ill informed, little more than a prostitute. To most, a meddler in affairs not her own.
The latter was correct, but amusement did come at a price.
I don’t suppose you fancy a drink then? Seein’ as you’re so busy an’ all.
Who am I to deny a gentleman? When and where?