Fallen Together (Maryjay)

firejay1

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Max stepped into the nightclub, somehow certain what was going to happen this night. He always knew when he was going to run into her, somehow. Sure enough, there she was, sitting at a table in the corner. She didn't look in a partying mood, so what had brought her to Luxe, he was not certain. Didn't matter, though. He'd been a warrior of God. He wasn't about to fight the big man's plans, and if this wasn't the work of God, he wasn't sure what was.

He slid into the table across from her. "Good to see you again, Agent Hayes." The last time they'd spoken had been only two weeks ago, when she'd tracked him down to a hardware store to make suspicious eyes at his purchase of a basic toolset. He hadn't been on a job, and she still had no evidence, but he couldn't hold her diligence against her. "What brings you here today?"
 
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MaryGold

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ELIZABETH
Saying Liz had sensed Max before her eyes caught his all too familiar figure would be supernatural and metaphorical sounding. But it would also be the absolute truth. He was a man she knew in every life and every death and the energy he possessed was never unfamiliar to her. Nor was it ever comforting, but she did her best to keep the frown from her face even as she was expecting him.

"Curious?" Liz didn't miss a beat. Answering him with carefully layered hostility was the natural response, reflex at this point. But it was always done with care when she had no evidence to take him in for, and more so when she actually wanted to speak with him. When she needed to speak to him.

The brunette sat with his back straight and her brown eyes trained on him as she brought her drink to her mouth. There was no need for her to rush to her point. "I'm sorry to inform you, Mr. Dupree, that I'm not here to try and get you today. As disappointing as it is." Lack of evidence and the laws their country had around it made it difficult and next to impossible when he was excellent at cleaning up after himself.

"I'm looking into another shady character who possesses similar skills as yourself. I heard he frequents places like this, maybe you've heard of him?" She sipped her drink again and quirked an eyebrow at the man.
 
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firejay1

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Max waved down a server as Lizzy talked, and got a scotch. "Really? I always take interest in other sculptors and artists in the area, but I'm afraid I don't know them all by heart, and if I'd known this was the favorite haunt of someone else, I never would've dared intrude on someone else's territory." He took a draft of his drink and looked over the club. He'd been telling the truth. He tried to avoid places he knew other contract killers frequented, and he couldn't help her with any faces - good ones like himself knew better than to be physically identifiable - but he could say with confidence that he knew what one might look like, at least at their core.

Being a contract killer was a bit like being in the military. Know where all the exits are, don't drink if you're on the job, and don't trust anyone. The difference, though, was the importance of blending in. He focused on the men who were keeping track of the crowd, even when surrounded by pretty women, who were drinking but not too much, but who looked inconspicuous. No shiny watches, obvious facial blemishes, or noticeable scars and tattoos. There were more than he'd expected. Then again, Luxe wasn't exactly the most reputable of places, and priced cheaply enough to draw some of a middle class crowd. "The question isn't if I've heard of him, but if you have more than just a rumor." He turned his attention back on his companion, smiling and taking another drink.
 

MaryGold

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ELIZABETH
"Sculptors and artist...? Funny." Liz repeated softly as if tasting the words on her tongue for the first time. It left a sour taste in her mouth and certainly wasn't the first time she had heard it used to refer to killers. However, it was a more polite and discreet way of calling them. Much too kind for taste, especially when applied to a character like Max Dupree. He adopted the term, genuinely making the dirty work of murder an art style of sorts and it made her hate him more.

Still, she listened to every word he spoke, following his gaze into the club, observing each man that stood in that direction. None of them particularly stood out, but wasn't that what they wanted? To go as unnoticed as possible and to acquire as many clients along the way. The place was crawling with criminals of every kind which made it the perfect place to gather customers. And yet she still couldn't find her guy.

Liz looked back at Max, making a point not to return his smile as she sipped on her own drink. "Nothing on his appearance, not that it would matter. But I do have the names of his victims. Typically, men, they are not particularly nice people but wealthy and do hold some sway within their places of work. I think the artist and particularly a fan of rare poisons over a simple gun. A poison that is a little hard to trace, but I know sellers may frequent this club and so why wouldn't he?" She rested her chin in the palm of her hand and sighed. To admit there were not many other leads she had to go on out loud would be a betrayal of her pride, but she had said enough to know he'd reach that conclusion himself.
 
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firejay1

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"Victims?" Max feigned surprise. "You seem to keep forgetting I'm nothing more than a starving artist-type, Agent. But supposing you are talking about a killer and their victims." He leaned forward, putting his chin on one hand and taking a draft of his drink with the other. "Theoretically, of course. You have only men, corrupt men, in positions of power. With a killer who uses primarily poisons, particularly of the rare kind. You haven't told me what other weapons you've seen used or of course, what you have to connect those victims, but you know women supposedly use more poisons among killers. A bit of a stereotype, but I think I heard that on a crime show, once. Personally, I can't understand what the appeal might be. People think guns are the messy ones, but think about it, really. Poisons are slow, have to reach precisely the right person, might have an antidote. You have to get up close and personal, methodical in your planning to make sure it gets to just the right person. And as you've clearly proven, it's not always easy to cover up as an accident, unless all the victims in question already have some sort of medical condition. Specializing in a rare poison means they might have connections in the underworld, and are not afraid to be traced back to a few possible sources. With that narrow a victim pool and killing method, it sounds personal to me. Unprofessional, one might even say. Unless they were doing it all on commission. But it would have to be a very very good commission."

He laughed lightly. "But I don't know. You're the FBI agent. Aren't you all trained as profilers or something? How'd I do?" There was a sort of pleasant buzz in his mind as he looked at her, more than happy to play her little game. There was much, much more he could've said, but he didn't want to rattle on, distract her from hissing at him too long.
 

MaryGold

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ELIZABETH
What. A. Know-it-all.

That name was the least intellectual and the most childish, though her brown eyes reflected the words very well as she stared -- glared -- at the "starving artist-type", the phrase did not pass her lips. She pressed her lips a little tightly, stopping herself from spouting immediate sass, but she did nothing to control the way her eyes rolled and her nose snorted. What was worse was that despite how obnoxious and long an answer he gave, he was not wrong. But it was not as if she didn't already know all those things. Well. Most of those things.

Liz was not about to tell Max she didn't even think of the possibility that it could have been personal over a commission. The mere idea of it made her want to gag. No way in Hell was she giving him another thing to be smart about with her.

"Do you want a gold star?" She raised a brow, leaning her head back just slightly. "I could give you a little applaud if you'd like." She raised her hands as if to clap, but instead reached again for her drink. "Too bad you didn't go to school to be an agent yourself. I think you would be quite good at the job. And it pays more than being a starving artist does."

Then again, in that alternate universe it was highly likely she would still hate working with Max Dupree. There was no world he would not be her enemy. They both knew that.

"Also, don't throw the word FBI around here. I don't want anyone to overhear and start avoiding me." A total possibility and not one she was looking forward to.
 
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firejay1

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Max laughed. "I take it I did a good job, then. Unfortunately, my old adversary, I'm much too old to apply now." He didn't mention that he probably earned a fair bit more than her. He was paid handsomely for the risk he took, and three jobs was often more than what the average FBI agent earned in a year. "And if I might point out, you were the one who brought up that you were searching for... 'a shady character,' was it? But as you wish." He finished his drink in one draft.

"Now. Supposing your quarry does not show up today or, as is more likely, isn't recognizable to you, do you really intend to spend all night in this bar, no backup, on unpaid overtime, fishing for someone you can't even recognize?" He set his chin on his glass for a moment. "We could always play a game if you're bored."
 

MaryGold

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ELIZABETH
"You always have to have the last word," Elizabeth said with a little short. Because admitting Max to be right in so many other words was like swallowing poison for her. But she said nothing more on the topic and was happier to carry on the conversation in another direction. Though - happier was too strong a word, she was more content to take the conversation elsewhere besides his skills in profiling and the criminal she was looking for that night.

Elizabeth threw her head back and downed the rest of the contents of her glass. She would need that drink before she thought to herself Max may be right again. Before she had even stepped into the club, she had few leads to follow but she had hoped she would get something there. It was looking less likely with every ticking second passing by. But she still dragged out answering him by raising a hand and flagging down the nearest waiter. "A gin and tonic please." She smiled sweetly.

Once the man was gone, she faced Max once more. "Okay then," Elizabeth leaned forward with her arms folded over the table. "What kind of game are you thinking of? You didn't bring a deck of cards with you by chance?" She teased. One might think from a distance they were actually friends when they were the opposite in every life lived.
 
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firejay1

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Max waited patiently for her answer, he was in no rush. When she got a waiter to come by, he quietly asked for a bottle of vodka and a bone dry martini. The server gave him a look, but well, let's say this was a special occasion. His lives-long enemy had just complimented him, and he'd been having a good go of dancing circles around her anyways. Plus, he'd just gotten an excellent sum from a man who'd "taken a liking to his sculpture of Artemis as an avenging angel" - aka who he'd dispatched a particularly nasty rapist for.

He laughed at her response to his suggestion. "No cards, Lel." She hated it when he called her that, but that had never stopped him. "I was thinking of something a lot more simple." With her leaning forward as well, their faces were pretty close to each other, but he didn't pull away. What would be the point, really? "You take off your badge for the night, and we play 20 questions. I've asked the waiter for a bottle of vodka. I'll promise to answer truthfully when I answer, as long as you don't record it or hold it against me in a court of law. If one of us doesn't want to answer a question, we either take a shot, or have 5 seconds to present a related set of two truths and a lie. Other person guesses the lie incorrectly, they take a shot, otherwise, the person who refused to answer the initial question takes a shot. How about it?" He wasn't certain why that was where his mind had gone, but he wanted to talk to her today. In their many lives, they'd been so busy chasing or trying to kill each other. They sat and talked at times, sure. But mostly about whatever it was they'd been fighting about in this particular life. He didn't have that many people he could talk to about their first life. People who weren't nutjobs, anyways.
 

MaryGold

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ELIZABETH
On reflex, her eyes glared knives into him. She hated that nickname, it was a perversion of her full name, Leliel and he knew that. He knew it and he kept calling her by it anyway. The annoyance it caused did not stop her from seriously considering his proposal of a game. A single brow of hers lifted, unable to hide the genuine curiosity that now plagued her. "Interesting game..." she hummed softly, neither moving forward nor backward. Interesting in the sense that the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she knew the most about Max than anyone else and yet she knew so little about him. Several lives lived together, and she still didn't know something as simple as his favorite food or movies.

For him to make such a proposal was odd in itself, and out of character for every sat down they had. Unless it was something he planned to turn on its head with his signature smug smile after. However, Elizabeth could read the sincerity in his eyes. It would be a wasted opportunity not to use this against him, but they would have several more lives for her to hunt him down.

"Fine," she finally huffed out. She, quite literally, pulled her badge from her coat, pressing its face down on the table and sliding it over. "I'm not tapped or carrying any recording devices either. Fair is fair." For one night, she could play along. Just one. "But I get to ask the first question, Rachmiel."
 
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firejay1

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Max sat back and steepled his fingers without thinking. She was actually entertaining his little game. He'd learned something new about her already. When she demanded she be allowed to ask the first question, he simply gestured his hand for her to continue, and she asked, "Of all the personal questions I could ask you, what's one you wouldn't want to answer?"

His eyebrows shot up. Now that was an interesting question. Not what he'd expected, but clever. He took a long moment to think about it, finally laughing. "Honestly. I can't think of anything more than something that would definitely get me caught. I might seem quite private to most, but human lives… we've lived so many of them. My history, my tastes, in every life they become more meaningless to me." He shrugged. That was a way they were different. They'd been on opposite sides in every life, but ten lives ended the same way had been enough to make him feel that being reborn was simply some strange whim of God's. He'd never understood the fervor she had in the lives they'd lived. Despite his steadfast devotion, at times he thought she was the zealot. Of different things in each life, but still.

"Now for my question. Why did you join Lucifer?" He'd always wanted to know. Well, he'd wanted to know that of every angel who had fought on the side of the rebels, but he'd never had the chance to ask anyone else. During the war, he'd been too busy fighting from afar. Afterwards, it was just her.