[ He grunts something unintelligent as he takes happily takes the glass filled with ice. Resting it against his forehead, he rolls it between his eyes -- it honestly seems to help the pain that he's in.
The two of them are feeling the same things. There really is no need to just commiserate with one another. But there is also no point in ignoring it like it isn't there to begin with. ]
You didn't abandon them by choice and the cause is one we can continue to do while we are here. [ There's quite a few people that could be rehabilitated and bring back those feelings to their worlds. Hopefully, anyway. ] No matter how far we are from them, we're still connected.
[ Or so he tells himself. ]
I don't remember a lot of what I said... so should I say that I'm sorry that I kept you up? Since it apparently means I had to listen to that fake act of yours all morning?
[He knows. He knows all of this, and it's why he didn't want to voice his concerns. It's why he never did back home to anyone but William. Because people expect more of him, more levelheadedness, more success, more control. He doesn't need to be lectured by anyone, Moran least of all.
But the words he thought on... It's just fortunate he's not prying on that point. Because in Albert's sleeplessness he certainly entertained the idea of never deciding to kill again, no matter how easy it's become, no matter what that might mean. A man like him saying that might sound absolutely preposterous to Moran. Moran, who has only ever known him as a difficult cohort, a superior, someone close enough to confide in about matters of business but not this, a man who would sooner destroy a true enemy completely than show any mercy.
Ah, well. He's going to call him fake regardless, isn't he? Might as well be.]
That may be the appropriate response. Keep it to yourself that I'm exaggerating certain things, if you don't mind. And be glad I didn't drop the name and state of my dear friend Sebastian Moran, currently half naked on my sofa.
[ He rolls his eyes -- it hurts when he does so. Grimacing, his eyebrows furrow in pain as he presses the glass a little harder against his forehead. Moran breathes out hard through his nose. There is an irritation that builds up in him about how Albert is acting, but he's gone over and over it in his head why it grates at him. He can repeat the same points for as long as he likes, and it won't change anything. ]
I have no intention of ruining your little act to anyone other than to yourself.
[ It's a pointed response directed at Albert. Breaking him down isn't really his goal, but rather, just letting him a space where he can act without a care. He certainly can't be William, but at the very least, he doesn't think it's good to just put on airs everywhere -- even in private spaces. ]
Only a few know my first name. [ But it'd be easy to narrow down that Albert is talking about him. ]
Besides, I told almost everyone that I'm a butler to some nice noblemen. Calling me your friend, you really want to do that? [ Before the night became a blur, he recalls the man being somewhat adverse to the idea of friendship. So he just spits that back at him. ]
I don't intend to abandon our ideals, but it will take some time to grow accustomed to being in two places at once, so to speak. That's what I meant.
[At least Moran has moved over a bit at this point, so Albert sits back against the cushions and crosses his legs, feigning comfort. He's a wreck on the inside, largely from the lack of sleep and the whole ordeal of newly arriving, but he likes to think he's coping...
Until Moran fires back again. Of course the words sting, but how is he going to admit that he was absolutely just bluffing when he made that fuss about friendship...?]
No, even I said we're equals here. I will thank you for calling us "nice", however. It could help me secure my reputation.
[Maybe if he just leads up to this in a different way he can make himself throw down a wall or two and voice his concerns. Moran isn't William, but Moran is a competent man, loyal and true to his causes, and Albert honestly doesn't dislike him so much as he enjoys the reactions his ribbing gets. It makes Albert feel like he does have a friend, or as close as he'd been willing to get to one outside of his brothers.]
Since you'll be here for a while... What have you been doing since you arrived?
[ He makes a sound out of his mouth that isn't too polite, but says nothing more. The ice is helping with his headache, but Albert is not. ]
I'm shocked. I gave you a free pass to boss me around. [ His tone of voice isn't all that cold or annoyed, however. He turns his head away to stare at an unfamiliar wall. Moran breathes slowly as he pulls the glass way from his face and holds it loosely in one hand against his hip. ]
People got the impression that I respect and care for you all. [ Still, he doesn't look at him as he stares at the wall. ] I only spoke of my feelings and they were understood. How about that?
[ His head turns slightly back towards Albert before he rests it a little more comfortably against the back cushion of the couch, turned away. It's not so much the act of sulking, but the act of attempting to give the man next to him the feeling that he isn't being seen. ]
What I always do when I have free time. Drinking, women, and perfecting my shooting.
You did. I didn't take it for now, but I'll keep your cooperation in mind.
[He doesn't feel right being referred to in ways Moran would refer to William and Louis, or grouping himself in with them when they aren't here. It actually turns his stomach a bit to be without them. But he swallows that feeling down and wears the normal, pointless smile he bears when he's being politely attentive.
Seeing Moran look away, Albert turns his head in the opposite direction, training his gaze away from Moran, too. Once again, his hand ends up in his hair, putting it back loosely into place, before he rests the back of his hand over his eyes.]
This may seem a ridiculous question for a hunter such as yourself, but have you ever considered... putting your gun down for a while? Purely hypothetically.
[ His head tips back on the cushion as he stares up at the ceiling. Breathing out hard, he lifts the glass again to rest it against his cheek. ]
Putting my gun down for awhile? [ That is honestly a surprising comment to hear from Albert. His eyebrows shoot up but he decides to keep his gaze fixed on the ceiling instead. ] No, that thought never occurred to me. I actually spent a good few days figuring out how to use the firearms of the "modern era."
[ Which really is something to be said. He's constantly taken weapons that Von Herder has just prototyped into actual battle without accustoming himself to it; he trusts in his own skills enough to know how to compensate for anything that may be off about it. But in this case, he actually took time to do as he said -- perfect his shooting. ]
My skills are for the manor. [ And that is all there is to it. ]
[He takes time to school his expression before he turns his head back toward Moran, looking him over for any signs of difference, of changes he couldn't see last night.]
No, of course. You're a professional in that regard. I suppose I should do the same.
[He can't back down, even for a moment. As Moran said, they serve the same ideals no matter where they are. And whatever it takes to make them reality is acceptable. That's the path Albert started them all down, and he'll see it through, or he'd be a hypocrite unworthy of his brothers' and allies' trust.
What's bothering Albert is pointless. The sooner he gives up on the notion, the better. He can live with that, he thinks. What's more of the same going to do to him? He can't get worse.]
I should also consider how I'm supposed to go about the business of "Synchrony".
Moran closes his eyes as the glass remains pressed against his cheek. It is just that he finds Albert's question off and his following words even more so. But he's no William; he can't figure out what is going on in the man's head and goes with the safest assumption that Albert was wondering if he planned to stand down and abandon the manor.
He can't help but click his tongue at that thought. His one eye open as he shoots a glare at him, but says nothing further. For all the good that he's doing in trying to listen to Albert's feelings, the man certainly has a way of stabbing him in the back and thinking he'll turn tail as soon as there's a chance to escape. ]
It's not that hard. [ Is what he finally says. It isn't said through grit teeth but he's definitely in a fouler mood than he was a few seconds ago. ]
[How funny. Albert had intended it as a genuine compliment. But neither of them can read minds, so here he is now frustrated with Moran's obvious fouled mood.
It shouldn't be hard for him to say what he wants to say. That he wants to start here from zero, in certain regards. That he wants to try being genuine and honest about his feelings, one tiny step at a time. But, well... He couldn't even tell William that at home, that things wore on him, that he felt hollowed out and gravely responsible for everything, that the fervor and idealism was all that kept him going. It was never pressing, never a crisis. Things were always going strictly according to plan. But Albert knows they can't go on like that forever.
It's because he trusts Moran with his life and his brother's purpose that now he can't say what he's feeling. Surely he'd be called every name in the book if he were to admit to wanting things to be simpler. And somehow, betraying Moran's expectations currently feels like betraying William's trust.
Still.
Albert doesn't like this back and forth of foul moods. He speaks again with cutting coldness.]
It was a compliment, Colonel. I suppose I'm not allowed that, even if we're "friends" or "equals" here, then? If you'd rather I treat you as a subordinate and nothing more, just say the word.
[ He curses abruptly as his leg goes out to violently kick the coffee table in front of him. It doesn't knock the furniture over, but it does knock it quite a distance away from the couch.
The pain of having struck the solid surface with his bare foot doesn't even register as he rises to his feet. He tosses the glass of ice all over Albert -- or attempts to do so -- before the cup is tossed where he had once been sitting. Moran isn't in such a foul mood that he wants to worry about picking up broken pieces later. ]
Exactly what are you getting at, Albert? You really want me to just abandon you right here on the spot! If so, then go ahead and say the word!
[ It's honestly the only reason he can think of the man closing himself off, and treating him like he's some turncoat. Here he thought they always had an understanding with one another; that Albert always knew of his loyalty to the manor and the three brothers. Was that all just a lie?! All the years that he devoted to them just something that can be washed away? Is that how Albert views him!? ]
Somehow, he expected a reaction, but definitely not his own hospitality being thrown back at him. Literally, in the case of the ice that hits his face and leaves water spots on his shirt and tie. No real harm is done to anything but his mood, but he is looking at Moran with the same dead, impassive eyes he levels at anyone who's trying his patience.]
If I wanted to dismiss you from our service, I would say it directly.
[Brushing the ice off to the floor, he stands.]
On the contrary, I'm fully aware you are the only person I can trust here. I'd hoped we could, in the spirit of the world William wants, be able to talk to each other candidly. As something closer to friends. Yet...
[He crosses the room to the bedroom to retrieve the neatly hung-up garments and brings them back out. Then he drops them on the couch. His resolve isn't as strong as William's. It never has been.]
...It seems like it was too early for candor, on my part. Everything I've given you in honesty has been thrown in my face. If you can't handle the truth, don't ask for it.
[He leans down to move the glass Moran discarded from the couch to the coffee table, then turns his back to head to his room.]
Moran feels as though he's seething even with all the pain that he is in. His head continues to throb and his foot is starting to ache. Albert has turned to leave the room, and he lets him go so he doesn't do anything stupid. He feels his teeth set on edge. Wanting us to be friends and talk candidly with one another? You're not saying anything, you bastard! You're still just--
He feels his face growing red. ]
You certainly think you can say whatever you like when you feel wronged. [ His hand reaches out to grab Albert's arm to prevent him from leaving the room. ] You have a lot of words that you can use. I'm not William and I'm not Louis.
You can't expect me to understand you like they understand you. You brothers are closer than I could ever hope to be.
[ He attempts to drag Albert closer to him. Honestly, he's never besmirched the relationship that the family had; he never felt jealous or envious about how close that they are together. They are good for each other; they support each other; they cover each other's weaknesses. He would never want to replicate or take that relationship from them. ]
So if you have to talk to me, talk to me like an idiot so I get it!
[Albert goes stock still when his arm is grabbed, then rounds on Moran, ready to turn this into a most unseemly physical altercation if needed. He doesn't want things to be like this, but if he and Moran can't see eye to eye, it's not the end of the world. Surely they'll be back to their mutual antagonism tomorrow, and the day after, and beyond. He was content to cool off and attempt again later when he didn't feel so passionate. So vulnerable.
His eyes narrow at first in anger, but widen at the invocation of his brothers. He hears Moran's words like an echo in his mind, in slow motion, as he's pulled closer. He's... being called out. Absolutely. And what's more, what he hates the most, is that Moran isn't wrong for being upset, not entirely. Albert was purposefully tiptoeing around something he feared, something so sacred to him, something he couldn't even tell William.
All because Moran... Well, Moran is different. He's older. He's come to terms with things in his life, in his own way. He follows orders to the letter, is reliable, dependable, excellent at what he does, has a razor sharp tongue at the worst times and a core that Albert knows is as good as his own, if not better. The one he's called himself on denying since the moment he arrived here, and thought he was in Hell itself.
Moran isn't trying to replace his dear brothers, or trying to patronize Albert. Albert is silent as he thinks all of this through, staring blankly, impassively at Moran's face, looking through him, really... Moran is trying to understand, genuinely, and has reacted as he has because he missed cues Albert relies on William's intellect and skill to deliver to anyone. If he assesses this calmly instead of hiding inside his impenetrable shell, he can honestly see where Moran is coming from.
How he hates himself even more in the moment, for troubling someone who was honestly glad to see him.
His free hand moves to grip Moran's wrist firmly, hoping to persuade him to ease the grip on his arm. He may be smaller and younger and less solidly built than Moran, but he has confidence in his movements and a fluid grace and dignity that usually serves to at least throw Moran off when things are heated.]
I understand.
[It's all he says for a moment, a non-answer, a lack of response, just a bland acknowledgement after the silence to break it up while he decides what to do. It's probably enough to make things worse, but... It's what he needs.
When his eyes meet Moran's, there's something foreign there, shining back the the man. Resignation. And even, if Moran bothers to hold his gaze, a touch of genuine pain.]
I want to find another way, here. I don't want to so much as raise my hand against anyone unless I absolutely must. If or when William arrives, I'll say the same. That we can do better here, and accomplish our goals. Do you understand? And I won't ask you to do anything I wouldn't do.
[His shoulders relax visibly.]
I am a soldier and an agent of MI6, ultimately. I acknowledge that things may not be easy, and I may have to resort to violence. But only, only if I must. Believe it or not, everything that happened at home was at my behest. If anyone can change it, it should be me. I have the chance, and I intend on taking it.
[ The red on his face fades, but he can't quite stop breathing hard. A silence has stretched on as his words sink in for Albert to understand -- Moran relaxes the anger in his face but the grip on the man's arm doesn't yet loosen.
In many ways, he's worried that without something holding onto him that Albert may very well fade away. He can't put it into words; he isn't quite sure why he has this feeling, but Moran can't say that he likes it.
No, he'd fade away in a way that'd be too painful to watch. It would be the man hiding behind a mask that he couldn't let down for anyone. Eventually, whatever sorrow or guilt or anguish felt, it would all be hidden away somewhere that the man wouldn't even be able to see. Perhaps, he wanted it that way, but Moran thought that he deserved a much better existence.
His breathing settles.
Eventually, Albert seems to be looking at him -- and seeing him. When the hand comes to rest over his own, he loosens his grip to let go of him.
He can't help but look a little surprise at what is said. It certainly isn't something that he expects. Albert doesn't want to kill anyone anymore; he doesn't want that stain to be something that they carry in this world as well. The man isn't being idealistic about it, either. ]
I see.
[ The tension in his own posture relaxes. ]
I don't believe that, Albert. Not all of that was your doing. We share this sort of burden together as fellow conspirators. [ A smile touches his lips. ] It seem like you're giving me something that I was not able to have before.
[ His smile fades. ] The chance to ensure that James Moriarty did not have to have his hands stained with blood. You don't need to ask me to do anything. In fact, I won't ask you to make that decision when you want to be better.
I won't let you give up on living a better life, so... even if you want to... you don't have to carry the burden of my sins and life.
[Albert is truly worried about whether Moran will judge him a coward by those words, whether he'll see him unfit to follow. Whether this is the end for the two of them, and the years they've spent by William's side.
It's... both better and much, much worse than that. He almost wishes Moran had hated him for it. He may be terrible at expressing his own emotions, but he's fairly adept at seeing what his words are doing to others.]
My hands are still stained. I'll live with what I've done, and I'll atone for it in my own time.
[He looks at Moran resolutely, then plants his hands on the man's shoulders.]
No one else needs to bear the burden of what I wished into the world. I still will never call on you to do something I wouldn't do myself.
[Though he won't speak for William. Moran and William's direct connection is none of his business. If William arrives, they can discuss things then. If William arrives, things will change. Albert will always live for his brother's plans and wishes.]
For now, we use our time wisely. We keep our skills sharp, of course. I'll ingratiate myself with the local population and the Gembonded and find my way into the political structure. If our usual way is the only way, I'll accept that. If William arrives and tells me otherwise, I'll accept that as well. For now... We must both be better. To give William half a chance, we need a foothold, and we have none of the advantages I had back in London.
[This means planning, working, focusing on accruing resources like money... Anything and everything Albert can do to build status.]
[ Moran doesn't acknowledge the hands that come to rest on his shoulders; he instead continues to stare carefully at Albert's face. He doesn't think that he'll be able to fully read him -- but then, he's rarely ever able to really read him. However, he wants the man known that he is, in some way, seeing him. ]
I suppose that it's fair that you won't, but I also won't let you walk down a path by yourself.
[ He decides that he should just say that outright in case Albert gets any other funny ideas in his head. ]
And I understand. I'll do what I can to gain a little more influence with people instead of just playing around. [ His reputation isn't all that bad, however, and seen more as a playful gunman of the past. But he supposes that it wouldn't be a terrible idea to figure out how to gain actual foothold with people. ]
I don't intend to use the people here, however. They're just as lost as we are, after all. I'm going to consider them more like friends in the wings... those that don't quite know what we're about... but will hopefully lend a hand in this and that.
[ Whatever "this" and "that" turn out to be, anyway. ]
When one starts something, one must finish it properly.
[Please. Moran doesn't know he thinks this, but Albert has no reason to throw him under a carriage, so to speak. Moran was dead in the eyes of the world. A dead man can't commit a crime. There's hundreds of ways he could leave Moran out of this if things went south. And he would. He'd take the entire thing on his own shoulders, and has long planned to get William to help him do so, should it come to it.
The dedication is beyond appreciated, even if Albert is certain it's loyalty to William and not care for Albert himself that moves Moran's compass.
The statements aren't a full de-escalation, but they're agreement enough to satisfy Albert. After all, he too was often only following William's plans and contributing rather than leading.]
No. We won't use any innocent people. This is going to be different. If we end up needing to tread the old path again, then we do. [There's a dullness to his gaze as he says that. Realizes that. Some things might not change.] But it will be the same as before, together. If I can somehow secure a place of influence without it... I'd rather we have a beautiful world to show William if he arrives.
[He falls silent, the moves his hands away to his sides.]
It sounds foolishly idealistic, doesn't it? I hate the sound of it all, if only because I don't know that it will work. I want to say that I tried, even if I fail.
[ Honestly, he doesn't understand why Albert wants to carry on the responsibility of everyone.
No, that's a lie. He understands it quite well. As someone who commanded his own people, he took any mistake that they did as his own; their actions were his actions; he held their lives as though they were his own. Their deaths, too, were his to avenge and for him to carry.
But that is in the past. He has finally given them a proper burial and a place to rest. So, the issue is really Albert who doesn't know where to bury any of them. And really, he shouldn't. Albert isn't their commander; they are all conspirators together and so, no one should have to fall alone. ]
Then... just say that... say that you want to have tried even if you end up failing. Ignore the fact that it sounds idealistic or stupid. There's no reason not to keep going forward with the belief that the world can be beautiful and like you want.
[ Moran doesn't know what weight that Albert has chosen to carry for himself, but in seeing some vulnerability that the man has, he's already decided that he'll handle carrying anything that his companion isn't able to. Perhaps, he'll attempt to carry it all without Albert realizing.
[Because it was Albert who started this, in his mind. Not William's desires, but Albert's enabling. Albert, who killed his family. Albert, who drew first blood. Albert, who asked for the impossible.
Somehow, Moran's insistence at least softens the edge he takes, and he seems to back down on the surface, though he blames himself still at his core. Maybe this is his attempt at atonement. It's not like he thinks he can make up for the lives he's responsible for ending, but he'll do what he can to prevent things from going so darkly again.
He studies Moran as he speaks, like he's looking for a crack, or a sign of insincerity. Seeing none, he relaxes faintly, then takes a seat back on the couch.]
At the very least, we will be able to say that we tried. Together, Colonel? I think even William would approve.
[He laughs faintly, a sarcastic little sound that's more sincere than he'll admit. All the tension is sapped from him now.]
He'd be pleased to see us working together, of course. I'll let that drive me, too. Though I do find you entertaining, even on the worst days.
[ The comment that Albert finds him entertaining even on the "worst of days." He lets out a sigh as he finally has to take a few steps back to sit down on the coffee table that he kicked. Moran crosses his leg over so that he can finally rub the top of his foot where he had struck the furniture. His adrenaline and fight gone; he finally can feel the pain.
Sucking in a breath, he rubs his head as all the yelling didn't do wonders for his hangover either. But he didn't have to vacate the room to vomit so he'll consider that a win all on its own.
Moran pauses in rubbing his sore foot to add something that he considers important: ]
No need to bring William up in this manner. This is something between us, right? Something that is actually between us and as equals. So, if you think that it's a good idea, then I think it's a good idea. It's really that simple, Albert.
[That when no one else can stir up his fire, he has Moran. To Albert, even if that fire is antagonism, it's a compliment. Moran is a safe place, an outlet he doesn't take for granted. He's a valued ally.
But now that the idea is out, he has to figure out how to implement it all. Money, a reputation... he'll have to work hard and he knows it. But it's what William would expect. Not demand, of course, but expect, because Albert is impossible to hold back. Impossible to dissuade. He'll do this.
Looking back to Moran after a brief silence, he smiles faintly.]
He's not even here. Right.
[That thought might cause Albert anxiety and relief in equal measures, but all he does is nod.]
Then that's what we'll do. Help me because you want to, because you think it's the right thing to do. Or... a reasonable path, at least.
[He puts out a hand and rests it on Moran's knee, fingertips curved. Sync is important, after all.]
Stay here until you feel better. I fear you'll take your mood out on someone less steady than myself.
[ Moran just turns his head to let out a soft peh sound at the question of it is hard to take a compliment.
The statement he made wasn't meant to do more than try to forge something between the two of them. Moran never considered himself to really be part of M16 even if he was given a title and occasionally uses the equipment. If he's called on a mission, he'll do one, but his connection has always been to the manor itself. ]
That was what I was planning on doing from the start. When you say things like this... it really makes me think that you didn't think I would be here if you needed me, Albert.
[ His tone isn't cutting or accusatory, but more concerned if he had to name it. It is at this moment that he thinks that he sees Albert as someone who stands alone. Without Louis or William, Albert has let himself be removed from the others that pledged their loyalty to their cause. It makes him --
-- he rests his hand down on the hand that's on his knee. ]
I suppose that's something to fear. [ His fingers curl around Albert's hand before he leans forward to place a soft kiss on the corner of the man's mouth. Syncing is important; his feelings are something he intends to give in more than a handshake and promised words.
[Albert's head is still in structure, in plans that can't come to fruition without William, and without reason. But the more they misunderstand each other here, the more he wants to understand, to communicate on a level that doesn't need anyone else as a buffer. To still make jokes and jibes, but to look squarely at Moran as the man he is, his loyalties unquestioned just as Albert has never doubted his capability. It never was just about William. He gets it.
And he gets, in small measure, that he isn't the monolith he makes himself out to be. He was always both on the inside and the outside of things, always waiting to be useful, always striving to make connections both social and mental that would benefit the cause. Thinking about himself, what he wants, what he sees in others besides that beneficial part of them that would serve William... He hasn't thought about that terribly seriously in years. There was never a need to. It was all training, preparing, and executing.
Well. He said he wanted it to be different. Now he has to walk the walk.
His eyes track Moran's movement as he covers his hand, then leans forward and--oh. Unexpected. But it reads exactly as intended, a wordless oath, a guarantee. Whatever path he goes down, he can expect Moran at his side. No matter how much they missed each other's meanings before, he's completely sure now that Moran is not only honest, but absolutely sincere.
Before he can pull away, Albert turns his hand over and takes Moran's, letting that be equal, too. For a lingering moment, he looks into those dark eyes, finding the right words don't come out immediately.]
I will never doubt you.
[Before he echoes the gesture by pressing his own lips to the corner of Moran's, as well. He finds he feels... oddly warm, more relaxed than even moments ago, and the feeling surprises him enough that he pulls back only slightly. Is that what proper Syncing feels like?
It's lovely enough to compel Albert to do it again, this time lingering.]
[ With the second kiss, it seems like they are agreed with one another. He can feel it in how he feels warm; in how he understands that the two of them are actually syncing with one another. ]
I'm sorry I gave you reason to doubt me. [ If they're going to be equals, if they're going to be on the same footing, then he can't let Albert be the only person that apologizes. He can't act like he did everything right and that the man did everything wrong to miss him. The two of them are too similar and so they weren't able to understand the sincerity that the other person showed.
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no subject
The two of them are feeling the same things. There really is no need to just commiserate with one another. But there is also no point in ignoring it like it isn't there to begin with. ]
You didn't abandon them by choice and the cause is one we can continue to do while we are here. [ There's quite a few people that could be rehabilitated and bring back those feelings to their worlds. Hopefully, anyway. ] No matter how far we are from them, we're still connected.
[ Or so he tells himself. ]
I don't remember a lot of what I said... so should I say that I'm sorry that I kept you up? Since it apparently means I had to listen to that fake act of yours all morning?
no subject
[He knows. He knows all of this, and it's why he didn't want to voice his concerns. It's why he never did back home to anyone but William. Because people expect more of him, more levelheadedness, more success, more control. He doesn't need to be lectured by anyone, Moran least of all.
But the words he thought on... It's just fortunate he's not prying on that point. Because in Albert's sleeplessness he certainly entertained the idea of never deciding to kill again, no matter how easy it's become, no matter what that might mean. A man like him saying that might sound absolutely preposterous to Moran. Moran, who has only ever known him as a difficult cohort, a superior, someone close enough to confide in about matters of business but not this, a man who would sooner destroy a true enemy completely than show any mercy.
Ah, well. He's going to call him fake regardless, isn't he? Might as well be.]
That may be the appropriate response. Keep it to yourself that I'm exaggerating certain things, if you don't mind. And be glad I didn't drop the name and state of my dear friend Sebastian Moran, currently half naked on my sofa.
no subject
[ He rolls his eyes -- it hurts when he does so. Grimacing, his eyebrows furrow in pain as he presses the glass a little harder against his forehead. Moran breathes out hard through his nose. There is an irritation that builds up in him about how Albert is acting, but he's gone over and over it in his head why it grates at him. He can repeat the same points for as long as he likes, and it won't change anything. ]
I have no intention of ruining your little act to anyone other than to yourself.
[ It's a pointed response directed at Albert. Breaking him down isn't really his goal, but rather, just letting him a space where he can act without a care. He certainly can't be William, but at the very least, he doesn't think it's good to just put on airs everywhere -- even in private spaces. ]
Only a few know my first name. [ But it'd be easy to narrow down that Albert is talking about him. ]
Besides, I told almost everyone that I'm a butler to some nice noblemen. Calling me your friend, you really want to do that? [ Before the night became a blur, he recalls the man being somewhat adverse to the idea of friendship. So he just spits that back at him. ]
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[At least Moran has moved over a bit at this point, so Albert sits back against the cushions and crosses his legs, feigning comfort. He's a wreck on the inside, largely from the lack of sleep and the whole ordeal of newly arriving, but he likes to think he's coping...
Until Moran fires back again. Of course the words sting, but how is he going to admit that he was absolutely just bluffing when he made that fuss about friendship...?]
No, even I said we're equals here. I will thank you for calling us "nice", however. It could help me secure my reputation.
[Maybe if he just leads up to this in a different way he can make himself throw down a wall or two and voice his concerns. Moran isn't William, but Moran is a competent man, loyal and true to his causes, and Albert honestly doesn't dislike him so much as he enjoys the reactions his ribbing gets. It makes Albert feel like he does have a friend, or as close as he'd been willing to get to one outside of his brothers.]
Since you'll be here for a while... What have you been doing since you arrived?
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I'm shocked. I gave you a free pass to boss me around. [ His tone of voice isn't all that cold or annoyed, however. He turns his head away to stare at an unfamiliar wall. Moran breathes slowly as he pulls the glass way from his face and holds it loosely in one hand against his hip. ]
People got the impression that I respect and care for you all. [ Still, he doesn't look at him as he stares at the wall. ] I only spoke of my feelings and they were understood. How about that?
[ His head turns slightly back towards Albert before he rests it a little more comfortably against the back cushion of the couch, turned away. It's not so much the act of sulking, but the act of attempting to give the man next to him the feeling that he isn't being seen. ]
What I always do when I have free time. Drinking, women, and perfecting my shooting.
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[He doesn't feel right being referred to in ways Moran would refer to William and Louis, or grouping himself in with them when they aren't here. It actually turns his stomach a bit to be without them. But he swallows that feeling down and wears the normal, pointless smile he bears when he's being politely attentive.
Seeing Moran look away, Albert turns his head in the opposite direction, training his gaze away from Moran, too. Once again, his hand ends up in his hair, putting it back loosely into place, before he rests the back of his hand over his eyes.]
This may seem a ridiculous question for a hunter such as yourself, but have you ever considered... putting your gun down for a while? Purely hypothetically.
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[ His head tips back on the cushion as he stares up at the ceiling. Breathing out hard, he lifts the glass again to rest it against his cheek. ]
Putting my gun down for awhile? [ That is honestly a surprising comment to hear from Albert. His eyebrows shoot up but he decides to keep his gaze fixed on the ceiling instead. ] No, that thought never occurred to me. I actually spent a good few days figuring out how to use the firearms of the "modern era."
[ Which really is something to be said. He's constantly taken weapons that Von Herder has just prototyped into actual battle without accustoming himself to it; he trusts in his own skills enough to know how to compensate for anything that may be off about it. But in this case, he actually took time to do as he said -- perfect his shooting. ]
My skills are for the manor. [ And that is all there is to it. ]
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No, of course. You're a professional in that regard. I suppose I should do the same.
[He can't back down, even for a moment. As Moran said, they serve the same ideals no matter where they are. And whatever it takes to make them reality is acceptable. That's the path Albert started them all down, and he'll see it through, or he'd be a hypocrite unworthy of his brothers' and allies' trust.
What's bothering Albert is pointless. The sooner he gives up on the notion, the better. He can live with that, he thinks. What's more of the same going to do to him? He can't get worse.]
I should also consider how I'm supposed to go about the business of "Synchrony".
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Moran closes his eyes as the glass remains pressed against his cheek. It is just that he finds Albert's question off and his following words even more so. But he's no William; he can't figure out what is going on in the man's head and goes with the safest assumption that Albert was wondering if he planned to stand down and abandon the manor.
He can't help but click his tongue at that thought. His one eye open as he shoots a glare at him, but says nothing further. For all the good that he's doing in trying to listen to Albert's feelings, the man certainly has a way of stabbing him in the back and thinking he'll turn tail as soon as there's a chance to escape. ]
It's not that hard. [ Is what he finally says. It isn't said through grit teeth but he's definitely in a fouler mood than he was a few seconds ago. ]
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It shouldn't be hard for him to say what he wants to say. That he wants to start here from zero, in certain regards. That he wants to try being genuine and honest about his feelings, one tiny step at a time. But, well... He couldn't even tell William that at home, that things wore on him, that he felt hollowed out and gravely responsible for everything, that the fervor and idealism was all that kept him going. It was never pressing, never a crisis. Things were always going strictly according to plan. But Albert knows they can't go on like that forever.
It's because he trusts Moran with his life and his brother's purpose that now he can't say what he's feeling. Surely he'd be called every name in the book if he were to admit to wanting things to be simpler. And somehow, betraying Moran's expectations currently feels like betraying William's trust.
Still.
Albert doesn't like this back and forth of foul moods. He speaks again with cutting coldness.]
It was a compliment, Colonel. I suppose I'm not allowed that, even if we're "friends" or "equals" here, then? If you'd rather I treat you as a subordinate and nothing more, just say the word.
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[ He curses abruptly as his leg goes out to violently kick the coffee table in front of him. It doesn't knock the furniture over, but it does knock it quite a distance away from the couch.
The pain of having struck the solid surface with his bare foot doesn't even register as he rises to his feet. He tosses the glass of ice all over Albert -- or attempts to do so -- before the cup is tossed where he had once been sitting. Moran isn't in such a foul mood that he wants to worry about picking up broken pieces later. ]
Exactly what are you getting at, Albert? You really want me to just abandon you right here on the spot! If so, then go ahead and say the word!
[ It's honestly the only reason he can think of the man closing himself off, and treating him like he's some turncoat. Here he thought they always had an understanding with one another; that Albert always knew of his loyalty to the manor and the three brothers. Was that all just a lie?! All the years that he devoted to them just something that can be washed away? Is that how Albert views him!? ]
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Somehow, he expected a reaction, but definitely not his own hospitality being thrown back at him. Literally, in the case of the ice that hits his face and leaves water spots on his shirt and tie. No real harm is done to anything but his mood, but he is looking at Moran with the same dead, impassive eyes he levels at anyone who's trying his patience.]
If I wanted to dismiss you from our service, I would say it directly.
[Brushing the ice off to the floor, he stands.]
On the contrary, I'm fully aware you are the only person I can trust here. I'd hoped we could, in the spirit of the world William wants, be able to talk to each other candidly. As something closer to friends. Yet...
[He crosses the room to the bedroom to retrieve the neatly hung-up garments and brings them back out. Then he drops them on the couch. His resolve isn't as strong as William's. It never has been.]
...It seems like it was too early for candor, on my part. Everything I've given you in honesty has been thrown in my face. If you can't handle the truth, don't ask for it.
[He leans down to move the glass Moran discarded from the couch to the coffee table, then turns his back to head to his room.]
Good day, Colonel Moran.
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Moran feels as though he's seething even with all the pain that he is in. His head continues to throb and his foot is starting to ache. Albert has turned to leave the room, and he lets him go so he doesn't do anything stupid. He feels his teeth set on edge. Wanting us to be friends and talk candidly with one another? You're not saying anything, you bastard! You're still just--
He feels his face growing red. ]
You certainly think you can say whatever you like when you feel wronged. [ His hand reaches out to grab Albert's arm to prevent him from leaving the room. ] You have a lot of words that you can use. I'm not William and I'm not Louis.
You can't expect me to understand you like they understand you. You brothers are closer than I could ever hope to be.
[ He attempts to drag Albert closer to him. Honestly, he's never besmirched the relationship that the family had; he never felt jealous or envious about how close that they are together. They are good for each other; they support each other; they cover each other's weaknesses. He would never want to replicate or take that relationship from them. ]
So if you have to talk to me, talk to me like an idiot so I get it!
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His eyes narrow at first in anger, but widen at the invocation of his brothers. He hears Moran's words like an echo in his mind, in slow motion, as he's pulled closer. He's... being called out. Absolutely. And what's more, what he hates the most, is that Moran isn't wrong for being upset, not entirely. Albert was purposefully tiptoeing around something he feared, something so sacred to him, something he couldn't even tell William.
All because Moran... Well, Moran is different. He's older. He's come to terms with things in his life, in his own way. He follows orders to the letter, is reliable, dependable, excellent at what he does, has a razor sharp tongue at the worst times and a core that Albert knows is as good as his own, if not better. The one he's called himself on denying since the moment he arrived here, and thought he was in Hell itself.
Moran isn't trying to replace his dear brothers, or trying to patronize Albert. Albert is silent as he thinks all of this through, staring blankly, impassively at Moran's face, looking through him, really... Moran is trying to understand, genuinely, and has reacted as he has because he missed cues Albert relies on William's intellect and skill to deliver to anyone. If he assesses this calmly instead of hiding inside his impenetrable shell, he can honestly see where Moran is coming from.
How he hates himself even more in the moment, for troubling someone who was honestly glad to see him.
His free hand moves to grip Moran's wrist firmly, hoping to persuade him to ease the grip on his arm. He may be smaller and younger and less solidly built than Moran, but he has confidence in his movements and a fluid grace and dignity that usually serves to at least throw Moran off when things are heated.]
I understand.
[It's all he says for a moment, a non-answer, a lack of response, just a bland acknowledgement after the silence to break it up while he decides what to do. It's probably enough to make things worse, but... It's what he needs.
When his eyes meet Moran's, there's something foreign there, shining back the the man. Resignation. And even, if Moran bothers to hold his gaze, a touch of genuine pain.]
I want to find another way, here. I don't want to so much as raise my hand against anyone unless I absolutely must. If or when William arrives, I'll say the same. That we can do better here, and accomplish our goals. Do you understand? And I won't ask you to do anything I wouldn't do.
[His shoulders relax visibly.]
I am a soldier and an agent of MI6, ultimately. I acknowledge that things may not be easy, and I may have to resort to violence. But only, only if I must. Believe it or not, everything that happened at home was at my behest. If anyone can change it, it should be me. I have the chance, and I intend on taking it.
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In many ways, he's worried that without something holding onto him that Albert may very well fade away. He can't put it into words; he isn't quite sure why he has this feeling, but Moran can't say that he likes it.
No, he'd fade away in a way that'd be too painful to watch. It would be the man hiding behind a mask that he couldn't let down for anyone. Eventually, whatever sorrow or guilt or anguish felt, it would all be hidden away somewhere that the man wouldn't even be able to see. Perhaps, he wanted it that way, but Moran thought that he deserved a much better existence.
His breathing settles.
Eventually, Albert seems to be looking at him -- and seeing him. When the hand comes to rest over his own, he loosens his grip to let go of him.
He can't help but look a little surprise at what is said. It certainly isn't something that he expects. Albert doesn't want to kill anyone anymore; he doesn't want that stain to be something that they carry in this world as well. The man isn't being idealistic about it, either. ]
I see.
[ The tension in his own posture relaxes. ]
I don't believe that, Albert. Not all of that was your doing. We share this sort of burden together as fellow conspirators. [ A smile touches his lips. ] It seem like you're giving me something that I was not able to have before.
[ His smile fades. ] The chance to ensure that James Moriarty did not have to have his hands stained with blood. You don't need to ask me to do anything. In fact, I won't ask you to make that decision when you want to be better.
I won't let you give up on living a better life, so... even if you want to... you don't have to carry the burden of my sins and life.
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It's... both better and much, much worse than that. He almost wishes Moran had hated him for it. He may be terrible at expressing his own emotions, but he's fairly adept at seeing what his words are doing to others.]
My hands are still stained. I'll live with what I've done, and I'll atone for it in my own time.
[He looks at Moran resolutely, then plants his hands on the man's shoulders.]
No one else needs to bear the burden of what I wished into the world. I still will never call on you to do something I wouldn't do myself.
[Though he won't speak for William. Moran and William's direct connection is none of his business. If William arrives, they can discuss things then. If William arrives, things will change. Albert will always live for his brother's plans and wishes.]
For now, we use our time wisely. We keep our skills sharp, of course. I'll ingratiate myself with the local population and the Gembonded and find my way into the political structure. If our usual way is the only way, I'll accept that. If William arrives and tells me otherwise, I'll accept that as well. For now... We must both be better. To give William half a chance, we need a foothold, and we have none of the advantages I had back in London.
[This means planning, working, focusing on accruing resources like money... Anything and everything Albert can do to build status.]
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[ Moran doesn't acknowledge the hands that come to rest on his shoulders; he instead continues to stare carefully at Albert's face. He doesn't think that he'll be able to fully read him -- but then, he's rarely ever able to really read him. However, he wants the man known that he is, in some way, seeing him. ]
I suppose that it's fair that you won't, but I also won't let you walk down a path by yourself.
[ He decides that he should just say that outright in case Albert gets any other funny ideas in his head. ]
And I understand. I'll do what I can to gain a little more influence with people instead of just playing around. [ His reputation isn't all that bad, however, and seen more as a playful gunman of the past. But he supposes that it wouldn't be a terrible idea to figure out how to gain actual foothold with people. ]
I don't intend to use the people here, however. They're just as lost as we are, after all. I'm going to consider them more like friends in the wings... those that don't quite know what we're about... but will hopefully lend a hand in this and that.
[ Whatever "this" and "that" turn out to be, anyway. ]
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[Please. Moran doesn't know he thinks this, but Albert has no reason to throw him under a carriage, so to speak. Moran was dead in the eyes of the world. A dead man can't commit a crime. There's hundreds of ways he could leave Moran out of this if things went south. And he would. He'd take the entire thing on his own shoulders, and has long planned to get William to help him do so, should it come to it.
The dedication is beyond appreciated, even if Albert is certain it's loyalty to William and not care for Albert himself that moves Moran's compass.
The statements aren't a full de-escalation, but they're agreement enough to satisfy Albert. After all, he too was often only following William's plans and contributing rather than leading.]
No. We won't use any innocent people. This is going to be different. If we end up needing to tread the old path again, then we do. [There's a dullness to his gaze as he says that. Realizes that. Some things might not change.] But it will be the same as before, together. If I can somehow secure a place of influence without it... I'd rather we have a beautiful world to show William if he arrives.
[He falls silent, the moves his hands away to his sides.]
It sounds foolishly idealistic, doesn't it? I hate the sound of it all, if only because I don't know that it will work. I want to say that I tried, even if I fail.
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[ Honestly, he doesn't understand why Albert wants to carry on the responsibility of everyone.
No, that's a lie. He understands it quite well. As someone who commanded his own people, he took any mistake that they did as his own; their actions were his actions; he held their lives as though they were his own. Their deaths, too, were his to avenge and for him to carry.
But that is in the past. He has finally given them a proper burial and a place to rest. So, the issue is really Albert who doesn't know where to bury any of them. And really, he shouldn't. Albert isn't their commander; they are all conspirators together and so, no one should have to fall alone. ]
Then... just say that... say that you want to have tried even if you end up failing. Ignore the fact that it sounds idealistic or stupid. There's no reason not to keep going forward with the belief that the world can be beautiful and like you want.
[ Moran doesn't know what weight that Albert has chosen to carry for himself, but in seeing some vulnerability that the man has, he's already decided that he'll handle carrying anything that his companion isn't able to. Perhaps, he'll attempt to carry it all without Albert realizing.
He'll see how far he gets with that. ]
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Somehow, Moran's insistence at least softens the edge he takes, and he seems to back down on the surface, though he blames himself still at his core. Maybe this is his attempt at atonement. It's not like he thinks he can make up for the lives he's responsible for ending, but he'll do what he can to prevent things from going so darkly again.
He studies Moran as he speaks, like he's looking for a crack, or a sign of insincerity. Seeing none, he relaxes faintly, then takes a seat back on the couch.]
At the very least, we will be able to say that we tried. Together, Colonel? I think even William would approve.
[He laughs faintly, a sarcastic little sound that's more sincere than he'll admit. All the tension is sapped from him now.]
He'd be pleased to see us working together, of course. I'll let that drive me, too. Though I do find you entertaining, even on the worst days.
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[ The comment that Albert finds him entertaining even on the "worst of days." He lets out a sigh as he finally has to take a few steps back to sit down on the coffee table that he kicked. Moran crosses his leg over so that he can finally rub the top of his foot where he had struck the furniture. His adrenaline and fight gone; he finally can feel the pain.
Sucking in a breath, he rubs his head as all the yelling didn't do wonders for his hangover either. But he didn't have to vacate the room to vomit so he'll consider that a win all on its own.
Moran pauses in rubbing his sore foot to add something that he considers important: ]
No need to bring William up in this manner. This is something between us, right? Something that is actually between us and as equals. So, if you think that it's a good idea, then I think it's a good idea. It's really that simple, Albert.
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[That when no one else can stir up his fire, he has Moran. To Albert, even if that fire is antagonism, it's a compliment. Moran is a safe place, an outlet he doesn't take for granted. He's a valued ally.
But now that the idea is out, he has to figure out how to implement it all. Money, a reputation... he'll have to work hard and he knows it. But it's what William would expect. Not demand, of course, but expect, because Albert is impossible to hold back. Impossible to dissuade. He'll do this.
Looking back to Moran after a brief silence, he smiles faintly.]
He's not even here. Right.
[That thought might cause Albert anxiety and relief in equal measures, but all he does is nod.]
Then that's what we'll do. Help me because you want to, because you think it's the right thing to do. Or... a reasonable path, at least.
[He puts out a hand and rests it on Moran's knee, fingertips curved. Sync is important, after all.]
Stay here until you feel better. I fear you'll take your mood out on someone less steady than myself.
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The statement he made wasn't meant to do more than try to forge something between the two of them. Moran never considered himself to really be part of M16 even if he was given a title and occasionally uses the equipment. If he's called on a mission, he'll do one, but his connection has always been to the manor itself. ]
That was what I was planning on doing from the start. When you say things like this... it really makes me think that you didn't think I would be here if you needed me, Albert.
[ His tone isn't cutting or accusatory, but more concerned if he had to name it. It is at this moment that he thinks that he sees Albert as someone who stands alone. Without Louis or William, Albert has let himself be removed from the others that pledged their loyalty to their cause. It makes him --
-- he rests his hand down on the hand that's on his knee. ]
I suppose that's something to fear. [ His fingers curl around Albert's hand before he leans forward to place a soft kiss on the corner of the man's mouth. Syncing is important; his feelings are something he intends to give in more than a handshake and promised words.
I'm here for you, too. ]
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And he gets, in small measure, that he isn't the monolith he makes himself out to be. He was always both on the inside and the outside of things, always waiting to be useful, always striving to make connections both social and mental that would benefit the cause. Thinking about himself, what he wants, what he sees in others besides that beneficial part of them that would serve William... He hasn't thought about that terribly seriously in years. There was never a need to. It was all training, preparing, and executing.
Well. He said he wanted it to be different. Now he has to walk the walk.
His eyes track Moran's movement as he covers his hand, then leans forward and--oh. Unexpected. But it reads exactly as intended, a wordless oath, a guarantee. Whatever path he goes down, he can expect Moran at his side. No matter how much they missed each other's meanings before, he's completely sure now that Moran is not only honest, but absolutely sincere.
Before he can pull away, Albert turns his hand over and takes Moran's, letting that be equal, too. For a lingering moment, he looks into those dark eyes, finding the right words don't come out immediately.]
I will never doubt you.
[Before he echoes the gesture by pressing his own lips to the corner of Moran's, as well. He finds he feels... oddly warm, more relaxed than even moments ago, and the feeling surprises him enough that he pulls back only slightly. Is that what proper Syncing feels like?
It's lovely enough to compel Albert to do it again, this time lingering.]
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[ With the second kiss, it seems like they are agreed with one another. He can feel it in how he feels warm; in how he understands that the two of them are actually syncing with one another. ]
I'm sorry I gave you reason to doubt me. [ If they're going to be equals, if they're going to be on the same footing, then he can't let Albert be the only person that apologizes. He can't act like he did everything right and that the man did everything wrong to miss him. The two of them are too similar and so they weren't able to understand the sincerity that the other person showed.
So, he decides to say it again, a little clear. ]
I'm with you, Albert.
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