------{michiel huisman, 37, cis male, he/his} || renard “redd” van daal is a mutant with the ability of defilement generation. they’ve been in new york for two weeks where they spend most of their time as a con artist/grifter. when i think of them, i think of sprays of rust creeping up from the corners of the room to encapsulate everything, soft and raspy humming caught at the back of the throat - a sweet song from a life long past, & rough hands marked with callouses of a hard life spent working for everything. they are affiliated with no one the brotherhood.
inspirations: spike spiegel (cowboy bebop), james “sawyer” ford (lost), redd (animal crossing), thomas anderson (the matrix), steven crain (the haunting of hill house), tim gutterson (justified), thancred waters (final fantasy xiv), sameen shaw (person of interest).
task one. task three.
name: renard “redd” van daal.
age/dob: 37 / august 1.
occupation: con artist / grifter.
mutation: defilement generation.
sexuality: heteromantic heterosexual.
nationality: dutch.
languages spoken: dutch, english, conversational spanish.
hair color: dark brown.
eye color: hazel, favoring greys and greens.
height: 6′0″.
build: athletic - lean muscle.
⸻ QUICK FACTS
if you ask redd about the circumstances of his life he will most assuredly lie to you, however the truth is that he’s been on his own since he was just barely a teenager. like so many others his mutation let itself be known at puberty. destructive and chaotic, he was horrified that everything he touched seemed to melt and decay away.
terrified he’d hurt his family, redd fled home and never looked back. he was 13 when he started figuring out how to survive in the wild of the world, never allowing himself to grow close to anyone for fear he’d ruin them with a touch.
but none of that is anything he’d ever tell you, ever show you. redd van daal is charming and slick with a winning smile that always meets his eyes and shines them, and a convincing tone that captures the attention of anyone he speaks to. all the easier for him to slip his hands into your pockets and lift your wallet away, to take whatever cash you have on hand and make use of it himself.
a successful con artist, redd prefers simpler gigs that don’t tie him down to any one place for too long. everything he does is mobile: his life is ready to be packed up and moved at any given instance.
he trusts no one but himself, but that’s self-inflicted from a life of living on his own. relationships are never personal ---dalliances with women to keep himself company here and there but never anything that’s lasted more than a day. his education was self-taught and finite, living between the system. he doesn’t exist as a person in the united states even, and in his home country of the netherlands he was a missing child who was never found and presumed deceased.
⸻ LITTLE TIDBITS
holds no allegiances one way or another, and honestly wouldn’t trust another mutant if he met them. he heard the term mutant on the television and scoffed at it. redd believes he is a freak.
incredibly good at sleight of hand. he has as many personalities as he needs, but the real redd is quiet and enjoys the company of a good horror story, even if he believes himself to be the walking source of his own.
misses his parents. he desperately wants to know if they’re alright, if their life went on, if they ever recovered, but is too scared to approach them and explain. he has no explanation for himself.
ability: think of the world changing in silent hill ---the floor and walls peel and give way to rust, plant life withers, flesh melts and decays. he is the living source of rot and decomposition and it terrifies him. but he learned some control, on his own. it’s a large part of why he doesn’t allow himself to emotionally react to things or people - he’s afraid it might spike something dangerous.
collects tarot cards because he finds them beautiful, but is in no way spiritual. doesn’t believe in a higher power, doesn’t believe in anything but the here and now ---the shitty reality.
a nihilist.
he prefers cats as pets, but he’s never allowed himself to keep one ... or really to touch one. he just admires them.
still has his dutch accent, though he can hide it pretty well. it slips out when he’s tired, on certain words, or if he’s been drinking. otherwise it’s always there, as a lovely lilt.
can play the piano, guitar, and sing.
everything that’s worth having is always packed and ready to go, anything else he owns is replaceable and he will leave behind if he needs to.
------he stared hard at his reflection, hands bracing on either side of the sink in his apartment, and tried to find where he could recognize the man that gazed back.
strong exertion of his ability left trace evidence behind for a period of time ---as if his body needed to recover from pushing so much of that rot out. deep black lines shadowed up the sides of his cheeks, crossed the corners of his eyes were they tinged a dark black. there was no iris in that look back, just a void, shadow and red as if he’d been punched there, as if the veins were sewing themselves back together and soaking up the spilled blood ( i’m sorry, i’ll clean it up ). it wasn’t the blood on his hands, caked and dried under fingernails, that bothered him. it wasn’t the spots where it had splashed and soaked into his clothes ( he’d have to get rid of them, no amount of baking soda and scrubbing would help now it was dry ). it was the feeling that coursed through him.
in a few hours the wife of one chad schuyler, politician for the state of new york aspiring to rise to a spot in the senate, would find her husband ... or what was left of him. the blood would give it away, redd imagined, because the remains would be hard to identify him by. that was how the rot, the disease spread. they’d tortured him first ... sure to let him know that he’d sided with the losing crowd, that backing anti-mutant fundings would only wind up poorly. chad was an example now, desiccated and decrepit, left right where ezra and redd had put him. tied to a chair, pieces of him cut into or missing, and then destabilized into decay.
he could still hear the uproarious bark of laughter every time redd cut in ---ezra, prowling somewhere behind, each bellow like a pat on the shoulder to keep going, or you’re doing great. he could perfectly make out the kill order from the confines of memory, etched not hours before, where the physical change had surged black through redd’s veins. it started at the tips of his fingers: a brushed touch to the politician’s cheek turned into a harsh grab. he’d looked the man in his eyes as he’d rotted him away, watched the flesh decompose, break down, and in some placed drop off of the muscle and bone in thick sheets. the squelching sound was memorable, too. muscle died, darkened, withered, and exposed bone in its stead. there was no pattern or rhyme to the way his power surged through chad schuyler - no explanation for what was left whole versus what had decided to jump ship.
he could still remember the feeling of it, of taking that life. it had sparked adrenaline, satisfaction. as he dragged his fingers across the man’s face, palmed it no better than a bowling ball, redd watched the exertion of his gift overcome the man. his clothes, his body, his life drained and decayed and in moments there was nothing but a mess left. barely human in figure, oozed on the floor, and when redd stepped back he heard the wet sound of viscera meet his shoes. he had been shaking, but not from fear, not from regret, not from anything other than the pure energy coursing through his body. each beat of his heart had forced more through, more than his own blood, and when his eyes met ezra’s he swore he saw double.
but now, as he gazed in the mirror, it was with perfect clarity. acceptance. for the first time in his life he was met with perfect acceptance. a finished initiation. he wouldn’t be scolded for what he’d done, there was no reeling away for the appearance of him, the evidence of that horrid crime. it was not redd van daal that looked back at him through the mirror, but the beginning of a new chapter in his life. an introduction to the brotherhood mutant who was not so opposed to grasping his power by the throat and claiming it ( as opposed to silently begging it not overtake him ).
from that void, the sweet abyss, it was phage that gazed back.
a hand snakes out to coil around redd’s shoulders, unyielding. “you’re smart, redd,” he starts, pulling him in close; “that’s what i like about you. you’re smart. you get things done. consider this… a test, of sorts.” his voice is low, edged with something conniving. “see, the brotherhood—it’s not something just anyone can walk into. you’ve got to want it. you’ve got to prove that you’re invested in the cause.” they need to tie recruits to the organization in a way that assures destruction should the idea of deserting ever enter their mind. ezra’s done it—everyone has—and it keeps the team running efficiently. keeps the squeamish, the undecided, the liars and cheaters, from running amok.
“that’s why i called you in. it’s time for you to prove it.” or die trying, something that ezra is keen on enforcing should it become necessary. he likes redd. he’s neighborly in a way that nobody else would truly appreciate and a good friend, all things considered… but it would be a bold faced lie to state that the excitement of murder doesn’t outshine his bonds. it does. even so, he hopes for one death tonight instead of two—redd is an asset he doesn’t want to miss out on. “inside this—” he turns the both of them, gesturing toward the estate they’ve paused in front of; “—glorious mansion here, lives someone our kind would be better off without. nasty habit of putting money in the wrong places, if you catch my meaning.”
pulling away, a smoke-chased chuckle flees his lips. “he’s not home, yet. gives us time to sneak in and look around for records. you’re good at scoping places out. good at finding what people would rather keep hidden.” he faces his choice in officer, black eyes glittering with malice. “you’ve got thirty minutes to find what we need before the fun starts. once he gets home, well… we’ve got something a little more interesting on the schedule than just burglary.”
-
------“ AND HERE I thought it was my sparkling personality. ” though the words were quieter, dim against the sudden excited ferocity that had claimed ezra. redd had spent a bit of time with him since their first incidental meeting. they’d gotten themselves into an array of trouble, babbled about nothing important ... redd had been convinced to join the brotherhood. the last seemed most important ---ezra had slapped a little hello, kitty! bandage on the wound that redd bore, the geyer of anger and self-loathing, and nudged him toward a place that might not try to change him. though redd didn’t expect hugs or tears, or people to stand up in a group circle and share their tales. it was certainly more conspiratorial than he’d thought. but there was a rush of excitement in there, egged on by the small speech given before him. AND REDD LISTENED, if only to slake his own burgeoning curiosity.
assuring destruction was something redd could guarantee. it was as simple as a touch - and not even a direct one, at that. despite loathing himself for his mutation redd had spent years learning how to use it to his advantage ( which was much better than sitting in a corner and crying about it, thank you ). at the gesture of the mcmansion redd let his gaze follow, drank in the finer details that a regular passerby might not consider as they guffawed in their own envious way. instead he took note of the door, the windows, how thick the house itself was to get around the back. he imagined the layout of that backside and wondered if there was a less-obvious access point there. his mind became schematics for the home, and redd nodded at the insinuation that fell from ezra’s lips in that moment: he’s betting on the horse that’s against us, so put the fucker down.
“ then, let’s not waste time. ” he had thirty minutes to come to terms with the knowledge of what was expected of him when that time ended. redd van daal was a lot of things, none of them good, but he’d never purposely killed anyone. BUT TO HOLD A POSITION WITH AN ORGANIZATION OF PEOPLE WHO MIGHT GIVE HIM A BETTER PURPOSE? mentally he began stacking weights on one side and the other of the scale that was there ---there was no take-back here. he moved forward, toward the front door before veering around the side of the house. if they wanted to surprise the fucker when he got in, they needed him to remain unaware of their presence. the sliding glass door of the patio at the back provided that, and it took little exertion to gently stroke the handle before it withered away and gave to prying fingers. once it slid open redd slunk inside, leaving it jarred for ezra to follow. “ and you have to do shit like this? ”
cleopatra smiled, her lips pursed as she looked at the male. there was a twinkle in her eye, as she stared at him, silently pondering her response. “charming,” she ultimately responded, flashing her teeth as she leaned towards him. “among other things,” she added, a small laugh leaving her lips before she sat back in her seat.
“i ordered oysters before you joined me,” her eyes remained fixed on redd as she spoke, “perhaps you’d like to split them?” she suggested, this time arching an eyebrow as she waited for his response. she would be fine with or without company, but she’d be lying if she said a little company wouldn’t be fun.
“oh two please,” she smiled as her gaze momentarily shifted toward the waiter, but it wasn’t long before she found herself once more staring at redd. “you haven’t introduced yourself,” she pointed out, “should i be concerned?”
-
------“ CHARMING I CAN live with. ” he chuckled softly, the corners of his eyes even crinkled at the wideness of his smirk in response. “ ah, c’mon. you have to share the other things, now. it’s a tease otherwise. ” though perhaps that was the intention . redd only lightly pressed it, allowing for the conversation to move on organically should she choose to keep the air of mystery about her further. it was a notion he understood wholly. no matter how much of himself he’d put into a mark while working, it was never the whole thing. nobody knew him in earnest. so he could respect the desire to remain enshrouded.
“ oysters, how very classy of you. ” and he offered a slight nod of his head in affirmative, “ if you’re willing to share them, i’m willing to partake. ” she was charming, too. it was in an easy sort of way, one that suggested she need not spend a lot of time worrying about how someone else might perceive that charm ---it just was. perhaps she had her own little barrel of secrets, too. but everyone did, and the way they WORE those secrets was what interested or put redd off. this woman wore them well, like a thin fabric over her shoulders, a shawl for show rather than warmth.
his eyes only broke away from holding her gaze when the bartender plucked and subsequently dropped the two olives into her drink. he needed no dismissal to move onto serving the next customer, and redd gently picked his glass up and held it to be lightly clinked in gesture before imbibing. “ redd van daal. ” he paused for a moment, allowing himself to consider her once more, “ no worries. yet. i’ll behave myself for a little while. ”
Sela only laughed, lighthearted and private. She thanked the barkeep with a nod of her head and brought the glass to her lips, eyes peering over at the man over the rim. He didn’t look bad, not today at least. Rustic lumberjack was a becoming look on him. Besides, she’s seen much more slimy individuals stinking, and slithering their way from one corner of their world to another– so really, even if he did stick out, he was still a breath of fresh air.
At his question, she swallowed her sip and nodded; answering first with an affirmative hum. “Mm. A new contact and commission.” Despite herself, her tone took a slight happy, proud edge. It really had been a good meeting. “And yourself? Is it business or pleasure that brings you here tonight? Or are you simply seeking relief from the cold?” She wouldn’t blame him for the latter- though she could think of a few places better suited to do so.
-
------HER RESPONSE, OR lack thereof ( the chuckle was almost completely lost against the din of soft chatter behind them, though perhaps he caught the tail end of it ) was catalogued. his lips pressed into themselves in an attempt to keep his own smirk from spreading, and the tenseness that had claimed his shoulders moments before released. he did stick out down here, but nobody else in the room was paying attention to them. or at least, they weren’t looking at him with sela immediately beside him. redd swallowed his own mouthful and licked the lingering taste from his tiers before he answered.
“ sounds like good business. ” an elbow came to rest on the counter, fingers gently tracing along the make of the glass holding his liquor of choice. “ business. but i think my meeting is a no-show. ” despite the shuffling throughout the bar - the constant foot traffic coming or going in the hotel itself - nobody new had stepped in to meet with redd van daal. flickered eyes kept capturing the door, tracing the edges of the room, then returning to the woman beside him. no fence. little fucker. “ but i can think of worse company to whittle away the time with while i ensure he’s either coming or not. ” the charming smile - or what he presumed to be - lit up in full brightness once again before he swallowed another mouthful of liquor.
“good, you’re not late.” it’s the sort of expression that would draw a scoff from most, given his own lack of punctuality… but redd himself doesn’t need to know anything about that. more than he already does, that is. for once, he’s privy to a side of ezra that few others are allowed to see—brimming with excitement over the mission to come. it’s not his, of course, and his own work in the matter is reduced to supervision… but there’s nothing he enjoys more than a good, old fashioned murder. and isn’t it just that much better that the poor bastard deserves it? that they get to ruin him, too?
whether or not the man in question—or anyone else, for that matter—agrees is irrelevant. the work must continue, not only for his own individual interests ( and it is very much of his own interest ) but for the growing strength of their shared organization. “i always expect my officers to be on time,” he continues, lighting his cigarette. “’course, you’re not under my thumb just yet… i trust you know why i’ve called you here?”
-
------HE HONESTLY HAD no idea what to expect from this little meeting. he’d never really been summoned anywhere before - just asked to show up somewhere, be it for work or otherwise. it felt just a touch like lurking in the shadows ... hands jammed into the deep pockets of his worn jeans, and for a moment redd considered the whole scneario. pick a side. no part of him really understood what it meant to have an allegiance somewhere, didn’t really understand what it meant to accept himself and other people like him. the word still left a bitter taste in his mouth but at least the pill was becoming easier to swallow - it didn’t catch like a stone in his throat anymore. he’d rather die than admit being around ezra had managed to change his way of thinking, even if it was in slight.
“ you want the truth? ” he pushed a puff of air from his own lungs: smoke caught and wafted from ezra’s cigarette, lingering in his nose with familiarity. “ i don’t know why you called me here. but i have a feeling you’ll let me now with bells on. ” THE BROTHERHOOD. it was somehow more appealing than the painted picture of the ne’er-do-wrongs at xavier’s, where the only memory he had in personal experience was of opulence and prestige. he didn’t want to be made to feel like he needed to fix anything, even if he thought himself intrinsically broken, and this side made more sense. or perhaps he found a kinship with the degenerate before him, smoking like dry paper caught on fire. “ so, fill me in, boss. ”
with names exchanged—presumably true, but with no personal interest in either direction—the partnership is officially established. even so, it’s surprisingly tolerant of redd to make an unspoken effort to divide the treasure even before knowing his name—or at all, for that matter. in his position ( on the opposite side, that is ) he would have tussled over the prospect of sharing the haul… but he won’t complain with what he’s been given so far. it’s certainly enough to make any payments on his housing arrangements and some spending on the side, should he feel the need. unless the owners of the household come in and complicate matters ( robbery turned homicide is often a matter for the papers ) this is counted among the successes.
with his own portion of the jewels tucked into his pockets, he watches with mild interest as redd investigates further. he hasn’t found anything overly valuable in his own preliminary searches of the place, but that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing there. he’s prone to his own missteps, after all, as much as he pretends otherwise. but his own needs are satisfied; should his new partner in crime find anything he desires, ezra will allow him to keep them. “search away. i’ve got everything i wanted out of this shithole.” unless his friend here manages to find a suitcase stuffed full of cash, he’s content to watch him do the rest of the work.
“as much as that sounds like something i would do,” he starts, chuckling to himself; “i chose it ‘cause they seemed like they had some money on them. didn’t expect to find any heirlooms the first time i slipped in.” but the tell-tale echo of open space had quickly caught his interest. unfortunately, the owners had returned before he could grab anything the first time around. this time, they seem to be away for the weekend. “what about yourself? you have any tips on the place or did you just decide to wing it?”
-
------IF HE WERE honest ( if he were inclined to be honest aloud ) redd did not need the bounty of this particular harvest. he’d been smart with his money over his years of grifting, of building underworld connections that let him know there were jobs available if he were so interested. but he had an appearance, a certain demeanor that was expected of him by now ... and though nobody in new york really knew him that well it was easy for him to run with that image. that he was grungy, that he didn’t have much or NEEDED to steal to get by. hell, he’d been living in the nastiest of motels for his duration here. perhaps it was conditioning. he didn’t dwell on it too much.
the way he searches the underwear is almost mindless. it’s not until his fingers feel at a rolled sock in the back that he lets a smirk crack at his visage once more. a little roll of twenties. if he had to guess there was around $500 bucks tucked up, protected by what he would have otherwise called a cum sock if he had to describe how nasty it looked. tongue wet at his lips, a moment of him counting passes before he speaks, “ got a good chunk of change here. ” before he can be told he reaches out again to hand half over to his current partner in crime. “ always shit in the underwear drawer. ”
the process of returning the drawer to how it was before he’d meddled is quick but thorough - the skill of hands that have done it too many times. “ no tip. cased the place for a few days. the owners left yesterday and haven’t come back at all. figured tonight was a good night ... new moon, cloudy. ” but apparently someone else had figured the same or else he’d be alone. “ and here we are, a happy little clique of thieves rifling through a sock drawer. what a nice ending. ”
redd’s comment is close ( dangerously so ) to self-pity, a concept that has his eyes narrowed. there are plenty of other mutants that scorn the gifts that their x-gene has given them, but most of them aren’t in the business of using them for their own greater good. they’re the type to hide away, curled up and crying themselves to sleep at night. the best of a shitty situation. maybe there’s room for improvement, there. an acknowledgement that life can be, is, better for having it. for now, ezra keeps his eyes on the prize—there will be plenty of time to analyze the specific’s of his partner’s situation later, away from the threat ( however small ) of prying eyes.
anticipation has him rubbing his own hands together as the lock is pried open, head tipping in an attempt to peer into the box he’s been hoping to acquire. redd’s hands go in—with a sharp inhale, a thought to intervene, from ezra—but before he can think to speak the goods are removed, intact. “would you look at that,” he agrees, accepting the offered bracelet and turning it over in his own hands. “i’d wager you’re right.” it’s one of his better heists, when it comes to family jewels. too many people are in the business of keeping fakes. sentimental value, he assumes. but how worthless! better in those cases to swipe the telly and be done with it.
the diamond ring catches his eye even before the other burglar thinks to offer it, eyes shifting between the outstretched hand and the face keeping it in his charge. “hoping for grand larceny, myself,” he comments, ever insufferable. “but just in case we’ve got to get our stories straight, i’m ezra.” while the thought that offering a hand may not be in his best interest does occur to him, he extends the other all the same. “and yourself?” he asks, sharp teeth revealed in a grin. “for legal purposes, of course.”
-
------“ REDD. ” THE MUTUAL exchange of names is enough for him to drop the diamond ring into ezra’s hand, then turn his attention back to the strongbox. fingers paw at one last item - a pair of earrings that his eyes glance over for a moment before he acknowledges their value as real. once more he outstretches his arm to offer them over - his haul from downstairs will be more than enough to satisfy him, and the emerald is likely more than enough to bring in closer to a grand. “ you might hope for grand larceny, i’m hoping i can sink into a hot shower and sleep until noon tomorrow. so i think our priorities are a little skewed. ”
the box itself is nothing special - standard metal, enough to keep anyone out who wouldn’t have tools or objects or abilities to otherwise invite themselves in. so redd holds no qualms with sealing it and setting it back into the floorboards ... then tucking the carpet over the rotted wood and the hole he’d created to get in there. with any luck the residents wouldn’t notice for at least a day. the possibility more than enough to prick the corners of redd’s lips upward in slight. “ well, anywhere else in the house with hidden goodies or am i welcome to peer into the drawers for stowed cash? ” undewear was more likely than anywhere else. often times rolled into a tube sock and stuffed far back ---people were predictable.
redd straightens, shifting for the armoire where he can help himself to peer into drawers to discern what’s what as he continues. “ so ezra ... why this house? if you tell me you’re the owner i’ll laugh in cruel irony, but i’m keeping the ring anyway. ” a pause, fingers pluck up a piece of scant lingerie and he holds it up against the dim light for the other’s eyes to catch before he slips it back into the drawer and continues to rifle through. “ random? or do you know them? ”
god. she was so damn tired of smiling at rich men in suits, acting all patient and demure just so they’d be comfortable. the memory of costing noah a gig just because she wasn’t ‘accommodating enough’ was still fresh in her mind, making her trudge through the meeting with a bitterness that she was growing more and more accustomed to as the days passed.
once the meeting was over and done with, and chiyo felt she could finally breathe again, she stepped outside and stopped for a moment to take in the fresh air, only to feel someone approaching from behind. the last time it happened she’d been pestered for a date, so with that in mind she turned around with a readied excuse on her tongue, “i’m gay and i have chlamydia, so—” only to realise (to her mortification) as she spun around, that it was not one of those old business men that had followed her out, and instead faced with a complete stranger. oh boy.
-
------HE DIDN’T DO so well in small meetings ... not because he lacked the people skills, but because it was fucking exhausting pretending he gave a shit. but redd had a particular set of skills that were admittedly probably easy to come by in a city of millions ... but nobody could do it like redd van daal could. he had learned a long time ago to make himself indispensable when it came to fucking people out of their valuables. be it cash or other assets ---he was good. still - he felt this particular client was stifling and no sooner than when the meeting ended did he dive his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and fish out his crumpled pack of cigarettes.
he must’ve been following too closely behind the girl - the one who whirled on him and spat out something about being gay and having an std. redd only blinked at her a few times, slipping a cigarette that resembled a slightly folded accordion between his lips and then lighting it ---without peering at what he was doing. without blinking, either. “ you should get that checked out. hear it’s unpleasant. ” the first drag in was instant satisfaction to his night-fried brain, and when he exhaled the stream of smoke came through his nostrils like a perturbed dragon. “ you open with that one a lot? ”
“what would you call it, then? i can slip through the wall while you’re stuck walking through the front door. easier to avoid any security, my way.” but it doesn’t much matter what redd’s opinions on the matter is—while he would relish in a good scrap, it’s not his primary goal. he wants some of the goods beneath the boards. rent is due and as lenient as billie is, he can’t get away without paying every month. but the other burglar is surprisingly tolerant of having another burglar around ( irritating as he is ) and simply makes for the stairs in accordance to his great advice. following close behind—sharing is caring, and all that, but he isn’t going to let redd have all the fun—he veers off toward the master bedroom while his partner lingers.
the problem with these people is that they hadn’t hidden things well. an untrained eye wouldn’t think twice about the shabby rug, but it clearly catches redd’s eye upon entry. his too, the first time he had been here. but it’s not the rug that catches his attention, now—it’s the gift that the stranger has been hiding away this entire time. to think, he had been under the impression he was human. a pleasant surprise that he’s not. “got a few tricks of your own up that sleeve of yours, do you?” he asks, sharp teeth bared in a grin. “could have just reached down in there myself, though. less of a mess there.”
standing close behind, he peers into the hole that redd’s made in the floorboards. true enough, the box of great grandma’s jewelry is right where he’s been anticipating it to be. “go on, then. if you’re doing all the work you might as well rust the lock off, too.” ezra himself has never bothered to go digging around for a key, but why would either of them need to? easier routes have never been more prevalent.
-
------“ MAKING THE BEST out of a shitty situation. ” though his tone was more of a hoarse murmur as he responded, concentration on slipping his hand into the little hole he’d created in the now-rotted floorboard. the problem was in how his fingers tingled ---the longer he used it the more his digits had that pins and needles sensation. sometimes it was his entire hand ... and if he REALLY exerted himself with it, his arm. so in this moment where his concentration was more on not melting the box ... or feeling it in general, he sounded perhaps a bit winded. BUT THERE IT WAS, tickled at first by fingertips before he snagged the box and pulled it up and through the hole. “ well, shit. ”
in truth having a guest around for the dirty work didn’t quite bother him the way it should have. but the way he mentioned redd’s power made it seem like an intimate, filthy secret. one of redd’s brows quirked in slight, his head shifting to take the shape of the other into consideration, to stare at him for a moment before simply reaching forward for the strongbox. he slipped the padlock ( small as it was ) into his hand and let it rest gently against his fingers ... as if he were caressing a lover ... before it simply began to oxidize against his touch. in a moment it turned to soft metal and the arm broke with little more than a shift of his palm. tongue parted his lips to wet them as he opened th strongbox ... and at least it wasn’t a disappointment.
years of grifting and sleight of hand had trained redd with an eye for appraisal. first he lifted the old ruby bracelet out of its home, let the red and soft white of the diamonds accenting it twinkle in the light before he extended his arm and offered it out to his now accomplice. “ that’ll fetch a nice buck. ” back in he went. an emerald ring he slipped into his own pocket, and then what he presumed to be an engagement ring that had a diamond the size of his pinky-finger tip. that one he rolled into his palm and handed out to his company again. but before he dropped it into his grasp he canted his head, “ if we have the possibility of getting hammered for a b&e with larceny together, i’d at least like a name for my new accomplice. ”
Billie squints her eyes. She will need to find out his full name. For the fun of it, really, but the fact he dislikes is simply entertaining. She is oblivious to Dutch names, maybe it’s only embarrassing to a Dutchman. “What’s the alternative?”
The slightly too detailed and strong disdain for the colour red makes her laugh, loud and delight. She swats his arm, playfully, “Strong opinion! You’d hate my place. Painted the walls maroon a couple years back. And yes,” she sighs as though this were a big confession, “I am an attention seeker so maybe that’s why I’m so fond of red.”
“Ah, I see an international man of mystery,” Billie nods, chin jutted up like she’s talking to someone with nefarious, super secret purpose to be here. (Something more extreme than pickpocketing). “Definitely impossible to resist, who knew Xavier could throw such a good shindig! You came just for the party?” Billie asks again, eying him skeptically. She’s simply curious if he’s a regular human, why he’d pick a mutant ball of all things. Perhaps he’s not, at first glance many assume Billie herself isn’t a mutant.
-
------“ OH, NO NO. you got my nationality and my taste of the color red out so quickly, if i tell you my real name what’s left to flirt with you over? ” he teased, but still tutted at her as if the entire point of the conversation was to take her home at the end ---not the immense and crushing need he felt to do something nice just because she was speaking to him. he even waggled an index finger ( an attempt to appear as a scolding parent, though his memory of being parented was foggy at best ) to enunciate his comment ... as if the wide grin that stole his expression wasn’t enough.
the truth was he simply didn’t understand why he felt this way speaking to her. like he were the one being scolded, like she knew he was stealing, like she knew every little bad thing he’d ever done. like he needed her to not be disappointed in the crisp bills he’d tucked away from the guests. which was ridiculous - he had no idea WHO she was. why should he feel guilty about making a living? “ ah, but you’re admitting to liking it, to wanting the attention. a beautiful woman in a blood red dress with a slit up to here--- ” and he gestured high on his thigh, surely to where the edge of his underwear rest on his leg, “ isn’t admitting she wants the attention. she just wants it. and she can have it! i know i’d be looking, i’m sure she’d be stunning. but you say you want the attention and ... you’re not hurting for conversation if i leave right now, are you? you’re not a red-dress-with-a-slit-up-to-here woman, are you? you could have a nice conversation with anyone and not need to have the room notice you for it. ”
it was a study in people - something he was incredible at. slowly redd pressed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, laughed at her statement for the umpteenth time since they’d begun chatting. “ i’d say i was james bond but ... you know. i’m not british. and also he’s a bit of a tool. ” and redd wasn’t well-dressed enough to even pretend. he nodded at her question, gesturing to the crowd as if it encompassed the entire party, “ i didn’t know it was going to be thrown. heard about it - it’s what a lot of people are talking about. though i should clarify - i only moved to new york about two weeks ago so. i doubt i could have garnered a proper invitation anyway. ”
cleopatra had selected du ciel for it’s offered anonymity, that and her relationship with the head chef made it easy to secure a table at the last minute. she liked to have a certain level of control over the environment when meeting with a prospective client, it allowed her to remain in charge of the situation. well that and she just liked to feel powerful.
her meeting had been rather short, one might even go as far as describing it as tragically so. not that she minded, she preferred not to work with someone she detested. she’d spent the entire time counting down the minutes until she could make her exit. however, she was fortunate that her client excused themselves first.
with him gone, she was in no longer in a particular hurry to depart. so she placed an order for the oysters du ciel was known for and made her way to the bar. she’d barely had the opportunity to take a seat before someone approached her.
her lips pressed into a thin smile, she brushed her hair over her shoulder as she turned to face renard, her eyes immediately scanning over him. after all, she could never be too careful. “i’m not sure cheesy is the word i’d use,” she smiled, “i’d love a gin martini.”
-
------HE COULD REALLY be charming when he wanted to. it was how he managed to make a living in this shit world - and it was a lot easier to do once he’d aged into himself, learned how one could weaponize a smile and long eyelashes. life at thirteen was hard, but humans had a soft spot for children ( sometimes it was a detriment ) and redd had no choice but to learn the art of manipulation early on if he wanted to survive. it had been a hell of a lot easier to run the long cons he’d managed if he could convince the women involved that he loved them. PEOPLE WERE FUCKING STUPID. hook, line, sinker they’d fallen for it and he’d walked away a rich heartbreaker. oh, well.
but his intention was not to deceive her - just to use that charm in a more natural way. it’d been a long fucking time since there was no ulterior motive in it. but here he was, sincerely offering to buy a drink for a beautiful woman. and for the first time in a long fucking time the smile that curved his lips when she responded was SINCERE. “ yeah? what’s the word you’d use? ”
so he settled into his place, actually claiming the seat beside her and raising an arm to catch the attention of the bartender as they passed. it too a moment for them to come by, and redd pushed the stray hair from his eyes with his fingers before he responded, “ cognac, three fingers for me. and a gin martini for the lady. ” but he paused, turning his attention back to his company, “ olive? ”
