Into the Woods; [ for noseferatu ]

[thaasophobic]

I | II | III | IV | V

[ If Gladiolus has been expecting a limousine to come and pick them up, he may be slightly disappointed to find nothing but an ordinary and unassuming looking cab waiting for them. The 'other half' doesn't have just one place, you see. The spider's web is vast, with a variety of safe and sticky threads, and tonight they are heading for a rather old part of town that tends to be crowded, alive, with pubs and coffee shops. There's no need to draw any more looks than his colourful guest doubtlessly will. ]

The driver is a bit of a grump - don't take it personal. I'm not hiring my personnel for their social skills or impeccable manners. [ Matter-of-factly stated as Jim opens the door in the back of the car for Gladiolus to hop in. ]

I hope you'll forgive me if I don't take you home. Until we know each other a tad better, the place where I keep my pajamas throughout the week will be the much wiser choice. [ It's the windows, you see. The ceiling-high panes of his favourite spot's living room that are granting a spectacular view at London's veins, but might turn out to be a bit of an inconvenience for someone of Gladiolus'... blood line. Jim doesn't know (yet) if sunlight induced pain is a myth or a fact, but this meeting isn't about maximizing his guest's discomfort. In his line of business, pain is a precision tool, not a byproduct of carelessness.

When the cab comes to a halt, it's in front of an old brick building, one of many. But please don't judge a hide-out by it's front door. Someone has taken great care to modernize the top floor, turn it into a safe place for a person who may have a reason to remain invisible for the public eye (or the high precision scopes of a long-range sniper rifle). ]

No elevator, unfortunately, but it's only two storeys. [ Smartphone in his left hand, fingers quickly typing and sending a eight digit number, he uses his right to gesture up the stairs. After you. ]

Comments

[noseferatu]

[ Gladiolus Thrip, elite of the half-life underworld, taking himself a ride in a common black taxi. That's new, and not the fun kind of new, particularly. His bony nose wrinkles (somehow) as he steps in. Humans. ]

I hope you're hiring 'em for their ability to step on it.

[ As it turns out, though, he doesn't have to mutter to himself about unbefitting treatment for too long at all. The cab pulls up in a neighborhood of London not too far from some of his own stomping grounds. The building itself isn't anything he recognizes, but then again, he wouldn't have expected it to be. The knowledge that they've been running in overlapping circles for who knows how long, though - if nothing else, that's interesting. He tucks away the place's location in case he's not invited back. ]

Oh, no need to worry about that. Lifts're a tad slow for my taste anyway.

[ Time to show off? Silly question; the answer is "always". In the second or so it takes Jim to complete that hand gesture, he may notice his guest isn't where he left him. A blink-and-you'll-miss-it blur of motion, and there's Thrip unruffled at the top of the staircase. He raises a lack of eyebrow smugly down at Jim. ]

Well? You coming?