Ｗｅｌｌ, ｉｔ'ｓ ａ ｄｕｌｌ ｌｉｆｅ.

[spider]

CHARACTERS: Jim Moriarty & Sebastian Moran (HoD).
LOCATION: Jim's room omg calm down they are just talking WHAT'S NEW
WARNINGS: Sebastian's sassypants are on too tight.
SUMMARY: It's time to give Sebastian the run-down about Sherlock Holmes while enjoying some tea.
NOTES: ＪＩＭ ＷＡＳ ＨＥＲＥ! ＳＨＥＲＬＯＣＫ ＩＳ Ａ ＬＯＳＥＲ!

[ Of course Jim Moriarty would send a message inviting him over for tea.

Of course Jim Moriarty's intentions are purely on business. Not at all vicious, in any way.

Of course Jim Moriarty has forgiven Sebastian Moran on his little slip up.

Of course Jim Moriarty hasn't forgotten.

Of course Jim Moriarty appears to have forgotten, and is preparing their tea.

Of course Jim Moriarty is humming to himself.

Of course Jim Moriarty happily invites him in when he arrives, not giving a caring glance when he does, but the smile is there.

Of. Course. ]

Comments

[spider]

Oh, we've spoken once before.

[ If there would be an odd time for a pause, it would be now. ]

It's easy to see loyalty in some. Now, that is a tiger. [ Some amusement, sneering with pearly white teeth. ] Loyal like a Doctor John Watson. Claws out only for their tamer.

Drink all of it. [ --Like an afterthought. ]

[sebasher]

[Moran bristles visibly. By no means does he consider his alternate to be a lesser man than himself, but the implication that he's any better? Oh no, that does not settle well with Sebastian Moran. He's just as skilled, capable of being just as loyal. He may dislike the man, but two years in and he hasn't attempted murder on the Professor yet, has he?

Jaw clenched, fingers curled tightly around his mug of rapidly cooling tea, it takes an awful lot of self-control for Moran not to go off completely. He doesn't want to drink another sip of that godawful tea, but he does, begrudgingly. As long as he has that cup in his hands, he isn't likely to reach out and strike Moriarty. He can't seem to help it when his voice comes out in a growl.]

Why isn't he here in my place?

[spider]

[ He takes note of that. Not so much deducing as noticing the obvious ( deducing... ) , even framed with a tightness and incredible restraint. Getting a wind out of him seemed to be the purpose. Testing the pressure point with a small push.

He knows the vulnerability, but he plays with it. It's been a long, long time since he crawled on his own grounds. Where anonymity had a big part, Jim Moriarty was just a creeping whisper. Drawn out into the open by someone getting too close—that's Sherlock Holmes. Threw his arms across the game board and demanded a turn.

But he chooses to feed that information in crumbs. He knows these are two completely different Sebastian Morans, but holding their similarities. Specifically, with a good shot. He's someone he would very much like to put to use, not there is much for him to offer in return, but loyalty. He wants to see that. He toys with the word, hanging it to see if Sebastian Moran decides to bite.

"Loyalty" is a silly thing ( John Watson is Sherlock Holmes' "friend," he reminded. Another silly thing ).

So, he shrugs. The irritability is contrasting, pleased to see the man obey. Wasting his efforts, shame on you. ]

Would you like that?

[sebasher]

[Sebastian Moran isn't John Watson. He doesn't want to be friends with Moriarty. Not with this one or with the Professor. At this point, it isn't even the pay he's after (what would he even be paid in? Cold cups of too-milky tea? How pointless.)

Moran wants a purpose. Not a cause, mind you, but something to keep his eye sharp and his aim on point and his blood at an acceptable simmer rather than a raging boil. He wants a hunt, but wild game is seriously lacking here. Could Moran go out and shoot as many people as he pleased right now? Of course, but what would be there to make it exciting? Irish Moriarty and whatever schemes may be up his sleeve are all he has.

Doesn't stop him from wanting to pummel him, though. He's still on edge when he answers between clenched teeth.]

That isn't up to me, is it?

[spider]

[ Not that he can exactly sure of that word. The word seems to blur between friend, acquaintance, and so on. Definitions with distinct differences he doesn't seem to care for. So, just Colonel Sebastian Moran it is. Another eye. ( Oh, be grateful, he put actual effort into that. )

He shrugs. ]

I don't own you. I told you to come over and you did. Could have added "please," but eh— [ How was he going to end that statement? ]

You could leave, I just prefer the extra punch. With your name, I know you're sharp with a bullet. Names aren't coincidences around here, you may have learned. You have some history. You walked into this room and I made ab-so-lutely sure I gathered what I needed to know, Sebastian Moran. I don't invite anyone for tea without a reason. That's not how I work. As you have been pulled from where you are meant to be, so have I. But that doesn't mean I'm unwilling to stir some trouble, no, no, no. Take my web, I just make a new one. I work and I'm pleased.

[ He's smiling back at that edge. Tilting. ]

You're not here for me to pour out my soul and grief, I'm here to catch you up. Despite my displeasure, I am known on this ship. Not the way I would like to be known, but I'll be changing that. Soon. Now, you must r e a l l y be aching to shoot something, aren't you?

[sebasher]

[Moran just barely manages to fight back a scowl. Moriarty's got him there and he can hardly stand knowing it. He hasn't been forced into coming here by anyone other than himself. He was invited, and any ordinary invitation is just as easy to decline as it is to accept.

But anything signed with the initials J.M. will never be an ordinary invitation, and Moran felt nothing but required to accept. Taking up a job in the Moriarty Firm really is something that follows you, literally, to the very ends of the earth and beyond. For all Moran knows, it tracks your ectoplasm right into the afterlife as well. He accepted the Irishman's invitation because of the old mathematics Professor in London. He has literally sold his soul for excitement, and he's about to sell it all over again for more.]

Aching more than you know.

[Though the familiarity of the entire situation (he makes a mental note not to suggest that Moriarty has deduced rather than researched) put him back on edge, he manages to relax. He can work through this. It's just a distorted mirror of the goings-on in the rooms above Conduit Street, and Jim is just an incredibly distorted mirror of the Professor. Moran just needs to be sure not to get slapped this time.]

Unfortunately, I'm without my rifle. Just a revolver, which only gets the job done in short-range jobs.