I said I don't feel like touching her no more.

[the_urban_tiger]

In a job where your hours extended to "if your boss calls you, get your arse out of bed and your shoes on", one can't exactly keep normal sleeping hours. You get and hour here, and hour there where you can get them only because you have to sleep some time. Sebastian had laid down to catnap not more than an hour prior when his mobile goes off with some song he's pretty sure he didn't put on there himself. Groaning, he slings an arm over his eyes, pulling his other hand out from under the pillow where it rests atop one of his guns to blindly feel around on his side table until he finds the damned thing. He numbly drags his mobile down beside him to peer at it with one eye, checking the notifications and opening the text to see where he's going for the job. Name and address, one freshly made corpse needed, business as usual. Good enough for him. He starts to sit up before pausing.

There's a sudden jolt of familiarity. Odd. Something's off. Those blue eyes move back to the phone to reread the name again: Angeline Mercier. The address. He knows this girl. Oh, he knows her intimately, repeatedly, hands clawing across his back and shared panting breaths in dark rooms, slick skin sliding against skin. He had spent paychecks on her company, and some nights she wouldn't take them. Favorite customer, she said. The feeling was mutual although, perhaps, not the sentiment with it.

In complete silence, he stares at the phone until the display flicks off, bringing him to. There was absolutely no way Jim didn't know the significance of this woman and Moran doesn't even need to guess that's precisely why she's on the list. The young woman was as far into the criminal world as she was into law enforcement and that is to say: not at all. Even if she knew a thing about Sebastian outside the scars across his body or the size of his cock, which she didn't, whores had a way of often being surprisingly tight-lipped with secrets. No, this was entirely personal.

A hand slides down his face with a weary, agitated sigh. Of course the fucker is going to do this. He should have seen this coming. Certainly there's a twinge of disappointment but more than anything there's straight annoyance. Getting to his feet, Sebastian dials Jim back as he goes to find his shoes and run a comb through his hair.

Comments

[alwayswestwood]

No rest for the wicked – such a lovely saying, isn’t it? And so very fitting considering how Jim rarely sleeps, the high-speed processor inside his skull never slowing down, never pausing long enough for him to truly rest, let alone sleep for more than a couple of hours. Neither pills, nor drinks are strong enough to calm is mind, the essence of his being, the constant thunderstorm roaring inside him – and to be quite honest, even if they would, he would likely not touch them. Too dangerous, too risky, too dumb a thing to do to actually consider it, and so it feels only natural for him to reach for his mobile phone, send a message to the man he knows must be sleeping by now, oh so unaware. A lesson? Maybe – and a well-meant advice all rolled up into one little message, a low blow that Jim knows will come unexpected, securely hidden between the few letters of a name and an address. Yet, there is not the faintest shadow of a doubt that Sebastian will get it right away. Of course it is personal. You should have known better, Tiger.

Much better, actually.

When the chime of his phone cuts through the early morning silence of his room, Jim doesn’t even have to look at the display to know who’s calling, an amused little smile lifting the corners of his mouth. ‘Oh, looks like the lady wants to protest…’ – a fair assumption given the amount of time (or the lack thereof) that has passed between him sending the message and Sebastian’s response, and so Jim waits – or makes Sebastian wait, rather. Annoyance and anger – they both grow exponentially, not linear, so why not grant Moran a couple of minutes to simmer before answering the phone?

Smile growing, mood brightening, Jim reaches for his mobile and doesn’t even have to feign the amusement coloring the tone of his voice. “My-my, this must be a new record—“ because you better not be calling to argue – an unspoken threat, but definitely there.

[the_urban_tiger]

Sebastian's sleeping habits were never much better between the military and his less-than-legal hunting treks out into the wilderness. Always something that wants to kill you, always something that wants to be killed. Stagnation in every regard made him itchy and restless unless he was staring down the barrel of a rifle. Civilian life would have been the death of the former military man and shikari, and had certainly tried to be.

He's half dressed by the time Jim finally answers his fucking phone, and Sebastian's doing the closures of his trousers while holding his own against his shoulder. About fucking time. Teeth clenching and jaw setting, he refrains from the plethora of vulgar remarks he has all saved up for Jim now, thanks to those minutes that he didn't answer his bloody call. As far as Sebastian's seen, that phone is never far from its owner and he sincerely doubts Jim's in a meeting. There's the possibility of a phone call or conference with foreigners but somehow that doesn't seem likely, either, given the job. The mark. The entire fucking setup. No, he's banking on intentional.

A man'd have to be stupid not to hear that unspoken threat in Jim's remark, but other than a pause it seems not to discourage Sebastian any. "You really want me to waste a bullet on a cheap whore?" His tone is... incredulous. Not defensive or upset. He's not tragically in love with Angeline or anything ridiculous, not even particularly attached to her as a person. She's just convenient and good- very good. It suits him better not to have her dead, but killing her was a waste of good resources, tangible and not.

[alwayswestwood]

“Oh.” Jim replies, teeth digging into his lower lip and he tilts his head as if he were truly considering Sebastian’s words, as if they could actually hold some sort of worth or weight – which they don’t, not in the slightest. “I wish I could say that this was a reasonable question, honey, but have my decisions ever been up for discussion?” Rhetorically speaking, of course. The real message for Sebastian is: I know why you are calling, know why you have to try – and it’s exactly the reason why this cheap whore has to disappear.

“I do appreciate your concern regarding my finances, though. Rest assured, I can afford the bullet. Two, even – should you somehow miss the target.” Jim’s voice is cool, lacking the cheery tone from merely seconds before. The ‘two’ is not just a teasing, it’s another warning again. Two bullets – one for the whore, one for the sniper. This is not about a petty thing like love or jealousy; this is about loyalty and power and a completely different level of trust.

It doesn’t matter how attached Sebastian is, whether she’s just a good fuck or a good friend – the fact that his chief of staff cares enough to pick up his phone and call Jim Moriarty quite effectively proves Jim right and, in the same turn, seals the fate of Angeline Mercier. Attachment, no matter how abysmally small, means distraction, means being weak and imperfect and much more likely to make a mistake – which simply is a risk Jim isn’t willing to take (and especially not for a cheap little whore).

[the_urban_tiger]

The threat is met with unwavering, stony silence. It'd be foolish to think the sniper has been scared into submission as much as it would be to think he didn't understand the implication of those words; the man is far more resilient than that and a few threats aren't going to make him whimper and tuck his tail. No, he's realizing that there is no way out of this that means his favorite prostitute gets to keep spreading those fantastic legs for money. She was marked for death the moment her name showed up on Moran's phone and his phone call only ensured her death sentence. Not that Sebastian had really expected to talk Jim out of it- it's not like he had anything particularly swaying to say in her defense anyway. No, it was more just to ensure Jim knew he was displeased about the entire affair. That was the point, wasn't it? Because they both knew that Sebastian was going to be pulling the trigger in the end.

There's the sound of the door slamming behind him (fuck his neighbours), and the turn of two locks. Clearly, kitty cat is far more annoyed than anything. There goes the hope for a good fuck any time soon. "Have it your way, boss." He disconnects the call and tucks away the phone with no further show, exchanging it for a hand-rolled, Indian shag cigarette instead. An ambiguous remark, but if Jim knows anything about Sebastian, he'll know the man was never one for backing down from a challenge and clearly this is exactly what it was. See if Tiger can kill his favorite playmate.

The man never compromised himself with attachments, no girlfriends or lovers or even particularly good mates because it simply didn't interest him. People rarely did on any level more than what they can provide him. But there was one woman he spent too much time between the thighs of, and that made her the closest thing he had to an attachment, didn't it? He lights up his cigarette, taking a deep drag to take the edge off his anger as he goes to make his way over and set up his shot. Sorry, sweetheart. This is going to be the end of Angeline.