Fine Lines (EquinoxSol and Nabi)

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Sobriquet sighed, but nodded his head in acquiescence at the haggling. One question or two, it would be about the same. And the information should be well worth it. Although maybe it wouldn't be easy to find Maeble, it was a start. She had stayed in the Summer Court, so maybe he could find clues there. Although he doubted he would be very welcome, if Fortune smiled, he might be able to pull it off.

He clasped his hands, listening, as Aaron asked the questions. Should have known he'd ask something troubling like that. He rolled his shoulders before starting to answer. "Well, I hope you'll forgive me for sicking up part of my sorry life story." Where to begin? "For a whole lot of complicated reasons, when I was seventeen I decided I was going to kill the Winter Knight." He scowled. "Don't give me any shit, ok, I was a dumb kid, I got really drunk on frostwine, and I spent about an hour telling anyone and everyone who would listen how I was going to kill the Knight." He shrugged, his voice becoming defensive. "So if I can find the person who actually did it, then I don't have to set up energy-sapping wards around my apartment every day." Although it would be a trick and a half to convince the Winter Court; he'd been drunk enough to actually mirror into the Winter Knight's quarters before figuring out that the guy was dead and it was time to run for his life.

"And as for the hellhound?" He thought about it for a few seconds. "Maybe the Winter Court was just pissed about some information you sold. But, to be honest, it was probably after me." And if it was, my scent is still all over that office. Usually, playing human and not using his power masked his scent enough to avoid Winter Court shenanigans, but since he'd been in the mirror for a while to get to Aaron's office, something could have caught his trail when he came out. Shaking off the thoughts, he smiled and added, "Does that answer both of your questions?"
 
Aaron had sat, his fingers still tapping on the cover of the three books idly, while he listened. It was obvious that he was deep in thought, processing all the information that the officer gave him. If he was being honest, his tale had interested him. He had to give him props, though, vowing to kill the Winter Knight like that. It took balls to vow something like that, even if you were drunk. Still, he could see how he would want to find who really killed the Knight.

Of course, he was not happy about hearing that the hellhound in his office was probably Sobriquet's fault. If it had been his own, sure, he could have dealt with it. But it was the officer's own fault! Clenching his hand into a fist, he resisted the urge to just walk right out of there. But his own logic stopped him. Firstly, he had no idea where he was, and secondly, he had no money to use to get back to his office. This job is mandatory in order to get back home, he told himself, frowning.

"Yes," he said, his voice a bit less than kind. "It does." Struggling to keep a frown off of his face, he asked, "Where are we now...? Anywhere close to my office?"
 
Sobriquet winced inwardly at the signs of Aaron's vexation. Better stall, then get the hell away. He smiled as placatingly as he could at the questions. "Well, no. We're half the city away, on the northern side of town." He braced himself against what would surely be an impending storm. "And like hell I'm mirroring you back there." It had been hard enough to get to his apartment, and that was a mirror he was familiar with. And hellhounds scent magic. It was generally a terrible idea to do any kind of working, however minor, while one was being tracked.

How could he get this potentially-hostile informant out of his apartment? Kay couldn't trust him, and having to be on his toes in his own apartment was wearing on his nerves. I can't even start the investigation on Alistair's stuff, or look for Maeble. Strictly speaking, there was no reason he couldn't, but he didn't particularly fancy doing it.

The police office was barely a block away, but he doubted that would be a pleasantly-received option, and he couldn't exactly throw the guy out on the streets. He rested his head on his hands, rubbing his eyes. Should have stayed in the office and done paperwork for the entire day. I should have known that this would be a disaster. He sighed and said, "I don't suppose there's any chance of convincing you to just go to the police station and behave like a law-abiding citizen."
 
Aaron scowled at the officer. Dammit, dammit, dammit, he thought to himself, obviously angry. Fixing his piercing grey eyes upon the officer's, he ran a hand through his hair before saying, "It's not like I have a choice, do I? I'm pretty sure you won't leave me here by myself, and I don't have anywhere else to go, so I'm kind of stuck with you..." Frowning, he got to his feet, shoving the books into his bag as he did so.

"My books will stay with me, no one will be taking my fingerprints, and you will not give my name to anybody. Got that, police boy?" he asked, his mood worsened by the tiredness he felt mixing with his anger. Bending down, he picked up his pistol, considering it for a second before turning the safety back off. Setting the gun on the chair he had just been sitting on, he wondered if he should just shoot the officer and be done with it.

That wouldn't bring back my office, he thought, wishing that it would. Forcing himself to take a deep breath and calm down, he closed his eyes for a long moment before opening and fixing them on the officer. He was still angry at him, but at the moment his anger wasn't building to a dangerous level. "Whatever," he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.
 
Sobriquet nodded, moving to his feet nonchalantly. This guy was a little intimidating when he was angry, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to back down, however much he didn't want to get shot. "Agreed," he said, shrugging. He wasn't quite sure how he would bluff this past his coworkers; though, admittedly, there wasn't much of a chance of someone getting curious about his business. "But I would appreciate it if we could handle this without resorting to fistfights or shooting each other." Maybe that was too optimistic, though.

He moved towards the door, bending down to check the array of mirrors nearby. This array was linked to the wards that he had outside; when setting up the misdirection and loop traps, he'd cut out small pieces of each large mirror to serve as indicators. It didn't look as though anything was attacking currently, though there were traces of a disturbance. If I leave my magic alone for a while, the hound should lose the trail.

He opened the door cautiously, then wider as nothing occurred. "All clear," he said, moving into the hallway, a cramped, stuccoed space. The police station was only about a minute's walk at the right pace, but a great deal could happen in a minute. He moved quickly, taking the stairs rather than the elevator, just barely waiting and holding the door for Aaron. He couldn't have left the man behind-- he probably didn't walk fast enough-- but this was his own kind of petty revenge for the man's withholding of the information. At least they'd get to his office quickly.
 
Still angry, Aaron had sat on the arm of the nearest couch, his arms crossed and his expression dour. "Whatever," he said in response to the officer's words, not caring that he had repeated himself. Chewing the insides of his cheeks, his frown deepened, clearly upset. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he felt the heavy books settle against his back, and could hear the loose papers crumpling. Biting his lip, he sighed softly. At least he had gotten those pages out of his office. He didn't know how he would react to having lost those papers. If he had, and then realized that it was Sobriquet's fault, he might have actually shot him...

Glancing up when Sobriquet opened the door, he pushed himself off of the couch, letting his hands fall to his sides. Following him into the hallway, he simply strolled down it, unlike Sobriquet, who was moving quickly and rushing down the stairs. Aaron was just acting like he was going to the supermarket to buy milk, eggs, and bread. Rather frustrated with Sobriquet when he noticed how he was just barely holding the door for him, he pushed it opened once it fell shut again, quickening his pace only slightly.

"Oh, dear," he muttered sarcastically. "Police boy's anxious to get to his police station..."
 
Sobriquet turned, eyeing Aaron with a mix of irritation and anger. Well, if he was inclined to get killed by something, then let him take his chances. He'd be fine with taunts if it meant he survived longer. "Excuse me for wanting to avoid getting my face torn off by something nasty," he retorted. "Feel free to take your time-- tell me what Mab has to say, will you?"

He had to admit that he was always in a little bit of a hurry. Whether in a crisis or traversing an average day, his legs always sped up. He liked to think that he strived for efficiency, but perhaps he was simply impatient. Either way, he always got to meetings early, and didn't waste time; it really wasn't a bad system, in his mind.

He stepped onto the street, slipping his sunglasses back on. It was bright outside, and his eyes, the window to his power, were uncompromisingly conspicuous in a public setting. He moved down the street, shoes clicking in rhythm to his step, passing a variety of shops without paying attention to the music coming from clothing shops or the shouts of prices coming from the neighborhood deli. The only acknowledgment he might give was a curt nod to a particularly persistent salesman. He threw a look behind him, holding the door of the police station. This might take some explaining; he conjured a mild expression onto his face as he met the eyes of the receptionist, his glance briefly flicking to the alarm button prominently displayed on the table. "Inspector Anjou," he said with a smile, tapping his badge. "Just bringing in a witness-- could you tell the Chief that I'll be late to the meeting?" More like I won't make it at all.
 
"Hey, you did say that the hellhound was after you," Aaron returned to the officer, not quickening his stride in the slightest. Hell, if he didn't think that he would be able to get out of this with a few thousand dollars in his pockets so he could start anew, he would have welcomed the Winter Court and their hellhounds to come for him. What was the point otherwise? His office had always doubled as his home, and since it, and all the information stored there, were now in the hands of those god-forsaken Winter Court fae. "Why would the hellhound want some poor, defenseless information broker when there's a juicy, blue-eyed officer right in front of him?" Letting a smirk mark his face, he rolled his eyes before continuing on his way, following the officer down and out onto the streets.

As they walked towards the police station, he couldn't help but stifle a yawn. The salesman that assaulted him were easily placated by a dark look. Of course, with his grey eyes, turned stormy by his anger, that wasn't a problem. Once at the station, he strolled in, keeping his silence as the two officers spoke. His eye remained on the alarm button, warily watching it and the officer behind it for any sign of movement. Places where there were a lot of officers put Aaron on edge. Ironically enough, he didn't feel at all safe surrounded by men and women who knew how to shoot a gun better than he did.

Making a quick, curt nod towards the officer, he glanced towards Sobriquet, wishing that the man would tell him his plans before he acted on them. At least then he wouldn't be surprised by anything anymore.
 
The receptionist nodded, not seeming to pay all that much attention, and turned back to her computer. Sobriquet moved towards the door, scanning a keycard-- really, it's a miracle that it doesn't break from going through a mirror-- and pulled on the handle, hearing the clack of a bolt lock sliding open. This time, he did wait to hold the door for Aaron; when in an unfamiliar place or situation, people tended to be on edge. He himself was no exception, so this time he did have a little sympathy, no matter how abrasive the guy was.

He headed towards his office, moving a little more slowly past rows of offices, their doors half-open. This was what he hated about headquarters-- the feeling that at any second, someone could run out of a door and hit him in the side of the head with a crowbar, or, worse, that a magical working could seep out of an open door. Silly, but it's the same reason that kids are afraid of the dark.

He finally reached his office at the end of the hall, unlocking it with an old-fashioned key, and took a seat behind a desk, a new pile of folders waiting there for him. To one side of the office was a full-wall mirror, appropriately, partially covered by potted plants. "Oh, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention the mirror stuff to anyone. I've kept it on the down-low." With a slight smile, he leaned back in the chair, then continued. "In any case, I suppose we have to plan things out from here. I doubt that the Winter Court is favorably inclined to either of us, so we might as well work together for now."
 
Aaron nodded. "Fine..." he said softly, frowning. Running his hands along his arms, he tried to keep from feeling any worry about anything. Sitting down on the edge of the desk, he couldn't help but feel wariness fill him. Unconsciously, he made notes of all the exits, calculating how fast it would take to jump out the window. Too long, he decided, if someone came in with a gun and tried to shoot him.

He couldn't help it, really, this innate fear of police in large numbers. When he was younger, still a little kid, he had been forced to remain in a police station for several hours, constantly berated by the interrogator, who wanted to know seemingly everything about Aaron and his family. Looking back, it shouldn't have been so scary, but for some reason the fear and unease he had felt then continued.

Keeping an eye on the door, he tapped his fingers on his knees, on edge and wishing he had brought his gun.
 
Sobriquet narrowed his eyes, noticing that Aaron was more than a little ill at ease. Could he be planning something? But who in their right mind would attack the middle of a police office? No, that didn't make any sense, and in any case, he had a mirror right there. He wouldn't be in any danger.

He opened his mouth, about to ask, but then changed his mind, dropping his eyes and thinking about the Winter Court instead. Since they were both deep in the hole, perhaps he could trust the man to work with him for the moment. And he had seemed to have an interest in Lord Alistair, for some reason or another.

"You said that all of your information on Alistair was false, right?" he said, picking up one of the two folders on his desk. "How would you feel about going to see the man himself? Sitting here isn't going to do either of us any good, and i have to find his son." Additionally, he has a daughter named Maeble. Whether she's named after the original, or is the original, there may be clues there.
 
"If it will get me out of spending any more time in here," Aaron replied, "then I don't care what we do..." Running a hand through his mahogany hair, he pushed himself off of the edge of the desk, running his hands over his arms as if he had ants on them. Wishing he had brought his gun instead of leaving it at Sobriquet's house, he forced himself to calm down, a slight frown on his face.

He was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to renew his information business just from information of Alistair and his family, but it would do to get some solid information on the guy. Rubbing his shoulder gently in an attempt to make him feel less stressed, he asked the officer, "You think I could get a...nevermind..." For a moment there, he had been about to ask for water, but then he realized that if he did, then the police would be able to get DNA from the cup.

Shaking his head, he said, "We should be going..."
 
Sobriquet raised his eyebrows. "Get a...?" He nodded. "But you're right-- no point in staying here." He stood, checking to make sure that his gun was still at his hip, and moved over, standing in front of the mirror and dipping his fingers in, closing his eyes to feel for exits near Alistair's territory. No way in hell was he going to take an ordinary form of transport over. It would take far too long and be far too dangerous. And, as he pulled his fingers back, he could conclude that there was a mirror opening just a minute's walk from Alistair's doubtlessly-ostentatious mansion. Not too much trouble, then.

He turned to Aaron, his expression quickly becoming smug. At least there were some benefits to this situation. "Well, I hope you're up for another little jaunt," he said, grinning. For some reason or another, antagonizing this man was highly entertaining to Kay-- possibly because they'd been on such bad and hostile terms since they met. Actually, now that he thought about it, he was in a bad position with regards to any negotiations. The hellhound had most likely been his fault, so he couldn't pull an "I saved your life!" guilt trip. And, worse, the man could just turn him over to the Winter Court and receive as many accolades as he wanted.

All the more reason to make fun of him while he could, Kay decided with a reckless smile. "It's either go through the mirror or stay here in the station," he explained, shrugging, sure that the man would elect to go through the mirror.
 
Aaron gave the officer a decidedly unhappy look when he was asked about going through the mirror again. He had barely recovered from the last one, and this one would be going to a more public place. He'd be lucky if he didn't collapse as soon as they left, with the way his last time had gone. "Asshole," he muttered, folding his arms over his chest again. Still, going through the mirror would be better than going through the police station.

After a moment, he sighed before saying, "Fine," and offering his hand. Shaking his head at the thought, rather upset with the prospect of going through the mirror again. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, he looked to the ground, a frown on his face. "You're gonna be buying me a lot of coffee when we get there, 'cause I don't think I can suffer through another one of those mirrors without collapsing..."
 
Sobriquet smiled. "Of course." He'd probably need some coffee himself, so it wouldn't be much of a problem. One hand in the mirror, he grasped Aaron's hand carefully before entering further, casting a glance back at the door to ensure it was closed.

For him, entering mirrors had always felt like slipping into a freezing stream-- easy enough to do, though it made one want to pull back immediately. However, it was difficult to pull the other man in, as it had been before. By steadily exerting force, he got both of them in the mirror after about five seconds of effort. Quickly reorienting himself, he began to run, his vision blurring as he did so. Though he didn't usually notice it, today his vision seemed to be clearer for some reason, and when he glanced downwards, he could make out the distinction between the ribbon of the Road forming beneath his feet and the rest of the dimension, a silver plane some hundreds of meters below, the fog of his breath obscuring tracts of space. Feeling a sense of vertigo grip his mind, he snapped his eyes back upwards, mentally tracing out a path, and moved towards a bright square of light to the right.

It took a few more seconds to get out of the mirror, and Kay shuddered at the temperature transition, barely catching himself against a brick wall, his fingertips stinging. Damn! He slid downwards, turning and sitting to face the mirror again. They had exited into a narrow alley in the Old Town section of the city; the large gilt mirror that they had left moments before leaned against the wall, apparently abandoned by someone. "Still kicking?" he asked, semi-automatically, mind slowly recovering. The second time was easier for some people, but worse for others. If the dimension rejected you, as an organism's body rejects an antigen, you would come very close to death. For others, by contrast, the dimension adapted better the second time; it depended on a number of factors.
 
"Son of a bitch," Aaron muttered as soon as they were out of the mirror. Practically falling onto the dirty ground of the alleyway, he forced himself into a sitting position, his back against the nearest wall. Holding his head in his hands, the tiredness consumed him, worse than last time. Sluggishly, he pulled his knees to his chest, shaking slightly. This time going through the mirrors was worse, possibly caused by his jitters in the police station, and the aftereffect was somewhere in the middle. He thought he was doing better, but the way his head was popunding made him feel worse.

"Oh, God," he muttered, his head pounding. "Sh-should I be worried if I feel this bad?" he asked Sobriquet, his fingers running through his hair worriedly. Frowning, he forced himself to look up at the officer, wondering how close they were to Alistair's home and whether or not he could just lie on the bottom of the alley and not move.
 
Sobriquet looked down, eyes narrowing. Aaron was pale and looked about ready to just fall over and not get up. "Ah, damn!" he muttered. He crouched down, examining the man closely. "I guess you have a headache, then? And mild frostbite, too, from the looks of it." He cursed again, mind wheeling in circles. He should have thought more about the possibility of this happening before blithely going through the mirror again. "It's a rejection. I didn't think it would happen because you were fine the first time around, but..."

But now he had to deal with the consequences. "Let's get you away from the mirror-- can you stand?" he asked, straightening and offering his hand. He didn't particularly want to support the man across two blocks of city, but it might be necessary from the way that he looked. Hopefully the rejection would stop once they were away from the mirror, and he could hopefully bluff the condition away as an attack by the Winter Court. He didn't think that Lord Alistair would be particularly happy to have someone with a mirror gift in his house; his kind weren't exactly known for honesty or loyalty.

"Alistair's mansion isn't far. We should be able to get you something hot to drink there." There wasn't really a cure for rejection, outside of covering the person in your own essence, but that required a hell of a lot more trust than he was willing to extend at this point. He wouldn't do it unless absolutely necessary.
 
Having trouble focusing on the officer when he knelt down to his level, Aaron numbly nodded when he asked about his headache, shivering. When he held out his hand for him, he tried reaching up to grasp his hand, which was harder than it seemed. As soon as he was on his feet, a wave of nausea filled him, and he let himself fall back onto the ground, feeling like he was going to throw up.

"Ugh," Aaron moaned, cold sweat dripping down his collar. "Sobriquet you asshole," he muttered, his stomach tying itself in knots. As chills ran through him, he swallowed bile, the bitter taste in the back of his throat not helping in making him any better. "Who would just put a mirror in an alley anyways?" he asked as he tried to reach up for Sobriquet's hand again.

"Just leave me here," he mumbled, still feeling sick and wanting nothing more to just lie down. "Better yet, get me something for migraines."
 
God damn it. Sobriquet stared at him for a second, trying to think of ways to deal with this. It was his own fault, sure, but why did he have to clean it up? He couldn't exactly just leave the guy dying in the alley. "What, is my hand dodging?" he sniped, hauling Aaron up with significant effort and levering him to his feet with his right shoulder. He'd always been skinny-- with magic and guns, he'd never had an incentive to exercise, and now he was paying the price.

"If you have to throw up, do it on the wall." He wasn't exactly in the mood to get vomit stains out of his only clean suit; at least this was a Summer Court territory, so he didn't have to worry about outside attacks. Or, rather, he didn't have to worry about as many outside attacks, he mused as he walked slowly and laboriously, nearly tripping over the rounded stone cobbles.

"Look, there's Alistair's castle," he muttered by way of distraction, jerking his head towards the towering mansion at the top of a nearby hill. The sun was in his eyes, though, and he fumbled for his sunglasses, one-handedly flicking them open. "We'll be there soon, so don't die. I'd look a little suspicious walking in with a corpse."
 
Seeing the mansion didn't make Aaron feel any better. During the walk, he had been leaning on Kay heavily, his shaking not getting any better and the nausea seeming to get worse as they moved. Still, he forced himself not to throw up, knowing that the officer would never let him live it down if he got any onto his clothes. Besides, he would feel like a baby if he threw up while the officer was holding him up.

Stumbling a couple times, he forced himself to smile slightly when the mansion came into view. Still, it was fake, and was to show Sobriquet that he was still alive. "I think...I'm getting better," he said as he stepped solidly on his foot without stumbling or sending waves of nausea going through him. Still...he was shivering and his motor skills seemed to have abandoned him in the space of a few seconds, so he wasn't doing too good.
 
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