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[assassin_daddy]

Jᴀᴄᴏʙ Fʀʏᴇ "I'm no criminal. I just do as I please."

 

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[handleyourshit]

Her smile goes rueful when he mentions that line, because yeah, she knows.

"It may not fly," she agrees, "But if no one strikes it down outright, I might be able to argue off it if I ever need to try." She meets his mischievous glance head on, raising an eyebrow in reply as if to challenge it: don't. But then she makes a motion with her hand for him to slide the papers over to her, picking up the pen she brought over for further edits.

"I'll talk to Vrenille, see what needs to happen to transfer those properties officially over so you won't get any shade about being there. And we can add a reassessment option just in case," she offers, because she liked that idea.

"Although - I know with the housing situation, a lot of the city expects us to live in the same place, to spend time together. I don't care about that, I'm not exactly using the spare room, so if something did come up and you need a space - this is what I have but it's fine if you needed to use it. Just I should warn you about a few things if that's the case."

[assassin_daddy]

"It may not," He agrees. "But put it in. If they don't read these things and it doesn't get picked up, as you say it only benefits us. Well. Me."

Jacob takes a moment to recover from the gut punch of sadness at the mention of Vrenille and instead focuses on Rosita, nodding. "Good idea. I've no idea what's involved in any of that. My little submissive head can't possibly understand the complexities." He rolls his eyes, obviously this is a very stupid idea.

"Thank you. There's a spare room at the Hollow too, so it goes both ways." He says, and he is truly grsteful for that consideration. He hopes it won't be needed, but in this place? There are floods or sudden blizzards and sometimes living out in a cabin in the woods is a bad idea. Likewise, sometimes it's a bad idea to live in the middle of a crowded city full of sex pests.

"These things? They include not surprising you by climbing in through the window I suppose?"

[handleyourshit]

"That's what she said," she mutters mostly under her breath, flipping to the right page of the draft and beginning to write in the margins under her previous notes. This is how she almost misses the way Jacob reacts to Vrenille's name, except she glances up right at the end to see how serious he's being about his comments about the transfer, if he really thought she was trying to say what he's saying in hyperbole.

It doesn't make her happy, stepping right in that sore spot; but she can't possibly avoid it altogether, and she wasn't being malicious. Better, she thinks, that he builds up a callus sooner than later - or decide to do something about it. Not her problem, yet. Certainly not where she's been invited, either.

"They do," she confirms, going back to writing. "Also that if you think I'm asleep, don't try to sneak in. Just wake me up. I'll go right back to sleep and we'll both be a lot happier if I know you're here from the drop. And that Jesus has a key, but he likes to break in anyway sometimes. Wherever I am, he's welcome as far as I'm concerned."

No one else gets this consideration from her, but she offers the warning because she's aware that considering Jesus's involvement with Vrenille, that might be a sore spot, too.

[assassin_daddy]

Jacob knows she's not doing anything to cause him hurt on purpose. She has no logical reason to do so. Frankly, no one in this situation is deliberately trying to hurt anyone else- she's doing him and Vrenille a kindness by giving them some space away from each other, and they both clearly need that. But of course she also isn't going to jail, or the people zoo, which is worse.

In his mind, the problems he and Vrenille need to resolve are just that: for the two of them to resolve. They aren't anything to do with Jesus or Rosita, although perhaps now it's been made their business.

"I'll remember that. I don't think anyone breaking into your home would survive the attempt." It's interesting to know that about Jesus however. Perhaps at some point he will get to see those skills put to the test.

"If you're at the Hollow, Vrenille has a key. Only fair that your friends come over too. But just let me know? I try to ask questions before I stab people, but if it's the middle of the might, I make no promises."

[handleyourshit]

"He won't get stabbed," Rosita chuckles, fond and exasperated. She worries about Jesus, she'll chew him out for being reckless, but he's one of the most competent people she knows, too.

Then again, he got stabbed by a walker. She shakes her head. "We'll have to hang a sock on the doorknob or something. And for the record - historically, no, they haven't." Survived breaking into her home. She might have to take a longer game than she likes, but with only one glaring exception, she's put down every asshole that tried to take what was hers - or did.

She slides the contract back over for Jacob to look over with the additions, holding the pen out to him. "It's not that I want to put Jesus above everyone, all the time, just so you know. It's just really important to me he never doubts I'll back him up, or that he's safe with me."

[assassin_daddy]

"By you or by me?" Jacob grins in reply. Because Rosita might be familiar enough with the other man and his habits to know Jesus from someone else wandering around in the dark, but Jacob doesn't. Not yet.

"I think that's reasonable- a sock on the door. I don't think it's something we need to write into a contract necessarily but as an agreement between us bith? No sex in the shared parts of the house unless you're letting the other party know. Send a message or something."

After all, beds are all well and good but there's something about fucking in front of a big fireplace, and Hollow has one of those.

He takes the pen, idly twisting it around his fingers as she talks, his attention on her rather than the document.

"He's important to you, Rosita. You don't have to worry about it- if he comes first, then he comes first. I'm not upset about that. I'm glad that you have someone like him here."

[handleyourshit]

She doesn't know Jacob very well, doesn't know what he's capable of; she makes a note to figure that out sooner rather than later, but it'll keep. Unless he's much better at lying than she is at seeing through bullshit, he just seems... tired. He seems like he just wants to take some time to breathe, and honestly? She gets that.

She blows out a breath and picks up her fork to pick at the cake, though she doesn't eat any yet. He had to go and say the S word.

"Jesus and I don't have sex," she says, just so that's there; he didn't say that explicitly, but people do wonder. Now he doesn't have to. "Do you and I need to talk about the rest though? Is there even anything to talk about? I've been assuming I'm surrounded by men that are only into each other, but that is an assumption."

[assassin_daddy]

They're very similar in that regard. He hasn't seen her fight, he was dead by the time the prisoners were able to break out of the Pit. But just by looking at the way she moves, the way she watches what's around her, he's sure that she's capable. And if half of what she's told him is true? Then she's someone you want on your side in a scrap.

"That's none of my business, but thank you." He says to her, and it's very sincere. She doesn't need to tell him any of that personal stuff, who she meets quota with and whatnot, but knows she is trying to be open and honest. He does truly appreciate that. "We don't need to talk about it. But if you needed me to help with quota, I wouldn't be opposed."

It's a difficult conversation to have with someone, even now. Then again, he has spent the last twenty years in Victorian England. There are people there who would demand he and Rosita get married now, because they'd been alone together, unchaperoned. She probably even has ankles.

[handleyourshit]

She snorts, because even before she turned up in Duplicity, she wasn't shy about that particular facet of what she considers normal life.

"Oh viejo, the day I have trouble with quota is the day I up and move to Oceanside," she chuckles, but there's no real rancor in it. The look she gives him is amused.

"I'm just trying to figure out where the boundaries are. I know mine."

[assassin_daddy]

Jacob isn't necessarily shy- if they weren't in this strange situation, if their friends hadn't been arranging this, if they'd met in a bar on a Saturday night, he might have offered to get her a drink and see where things went. But this is... different.

"I'm not sure where that is, but I'm guessing by the sea," He says in some amusement, making idle notes in the margins, mostly stating he agrees with the wording she's suggested, also correcting any American spellings to British ones, because he can.

"You're an extremely beautiful woman, so I doubt you would ever have a problem. I hopefully won't have to impose." He doesn't think he'll have problems. Vanessa and Sephone, Chris and Hellboy have all still shown they think he's attractive, but that doesn't mean he can always rely on them, or expect it from any of them. And he really has no idea what Rosita's taste are, and if he fits them.

[handleyourshit]

"Fine, keep your secrets. I like flattery as much as the next girl." Its the second or third time since the contract has come out that Jacob has politely declined to answer a question or not comment on a topic, and she understands, she's not angry in the least, but she hasn't failed to notice either.

He can have his British spellings, too, but she watches him a moment anyway before finally taking a bite of her cake.

She hasn't had a cake like this before, she doesn't know what to expect, but - it's good. It's really good, and she pushes another piece of it around her plate a moment before taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully.

"I get it and all," she says, and the humor is gone from her voice. How many times has she said outright that she doesn't trust anyone? But he brought her cake, which she told him she dreams about from the old world, and they're in a strange situation, and she can let it slide. She clears her throat. "Before my group found the community we finally settled in, we moved around, just trying to stay alive. We'd meet people out on the road, and we'd have to make a call about whether to trust them or not. Whether to take them with us and hope they didn't steal from us or try to kill us - or leave them knowing they'd probably die."

[assassin_daddy]

He laughs and shrugs, deciding that if she wants him to be blunt, he will be. "I'm attracted to a lot of people. I don't care much about gender. But personality is more attive to me."

That hopefully explains what she thinks he's holding back. She's physically beautiful yes, but it's the fire in her that he likes so much, the possibility that the fire is going to burn him. He likes that risk. He also likes the idea that she might not burn him but just keep him warm.

"I don't mean to keep it from you. At home, it's not like here. A man can get his neck stretched for admitting as much to the wrong people." He pausesand then offers something else about himself.

"I told you our family business was fighting. That's only partly true. I was brought up as an assassin. Not one of the ones that gets paid to kill anyone at random. We... worked against another organisation."

[handleyourshit]

"I don't mind," she tells him. She means it. "Some things have to be earned, or built, or both. The best things." She shrugs with her good shoulder.

It doesn't mean she'll tolerate lying in some situations, but it does mean she doesn't think she's owed anything at this point. It does mean she pays attention when he answers anyway.

And she wasn't expecting assassin to come out of his mouth.

"So if you weren't hired, what - why?"

[assassin_daddy]

"They do." He agrees, because she really is right. Some things can't be freely given, and trust is one of those. But here no one can get him punished for what he's just said, and so he'll give her that much.

He has some explaining to do, so he does go ahead and at last pour a finger of scotch into the glass, taking the smallest sip to taste it and deciding he likes it even if it isn't his usual drink.

"It's a long, long story. Ancient war- one side wants control of people, make sure they do what they're told. The other side things people should have more freedom than that, decide what they want, how to live, not be subject to the control of others." It's a very basic explanation. "My brotherhood believe in the freedom. The other group believe in control. Really, you need a balance of both, but trying to reach a compromise is... well. There's always people wanting more power."

He pauses, for another drink. To let her think on it, ask questions if she wants. He knows it sounds strange, but then again, it sounds strange to him that the whole of society has collapsed in on itself.

[handleyourshit]

She listens, but she wonders if this is how others feel when she starts talking about walkers: she knows these words, she understands these concepts, but she can't really imagine it. She has to work hard to imagine it.

She chews on another mouthful of cake while she does, brow furrowing with the effort; she's helped plan small battles, worked out small skirmishes with big groups of walkers, but never anything on the scale he seems to be talking about.

"So - what? How ancient are we talking? In London?"

[assassin_daddy]

"Everywhere. London. America. The Middle East." He says it carefully, because he can tell she's having difficulty with it all. "And as long as anyone can remember. Since the Romans at least."

He pauses once more, offers her his glass, as if to say do you want me to pour you one?

"I know it sounds far-fetched. Everyone here is from somewhere completely different. A lot of people aren't even from Earth."

[handleyourshit]

She hesitates, filling in this new information, watching Jacob's face to take in as much of the context his having lived it can tell her; she shakes her head at the offer, none for her thanks, and makes a dismissive motion with her hand.

"Actually, I was just thinking how very controlling a wildly contagious virus would be," she comments - not because she thinks that's what happened, but because yeah, she knows. Just because she's struggling with it doesn't mean it didn't happen.

"So - you're just going back and forth killing each other, trying to get the one up?"

[assassin_daddy]

"Depends if you can prevent yourself from getting it," He says, after a moment of thought, and then adds, "But I had to deal with something similar. A tonic they used to sell people, cure coughs, colds, aches and pains, but it felt people worse than they started."

He nods, accepting the fact she doesn't want a drink easily enough. He shouldn't really.

"More or less. We try to stop them from harming others, get in the way of any plans they have to infiltrate governments or start wars and try to prevent them from getting their hands on anything they could use to make the situation worse. But it's like a balance, sometimes tipping our way, sometimes tipping theirs. Before my sister and I arrived, London had been in Templar hands for over 150 years."

[handleyourshit]

"I never get that, but then, people will believe what they want." This is not as dismissive as it might be in someone else - she's seen it, after all. People will do anything to rationalize what they want to be true, and ignoring worsening symptoms to focus on one thing that might improve? Not the worst way Rosita has seen people lie to themselves.

"So you two really cleaned house?" she prompts, saving how two native Londoners can arrive there for if the answers don't come on their own.

[assassin_daddy]

"Sometimes, you've got so little hope left, you'll try anything." He tells her. Besides, it was different, in his time. There wasn't education for everyone, there weren't many doctors, and what few there were did not have the science that she was clearly used to having. She knows the word virus, for a start. If your baby is sick, if your husband is sick, and you don't have many other choices? Something like that is what so many people turn to. "But there were people who knew to stay away from it."

"Not on our own. There was one assassin that had been in London, spying, making connections. Hen- his name is Jayadeep, but we knew him as Henry back then. He helped us. There were Templars everywhere- in government, in the police, in industry. All hurting people, to keep control." He begins, "Most of London was run by gangs, with a leader in the pocket of the Templars. We formed our own gang and got rid of the others one by one. We had to kill some Lords- fucking pricks-" he still remembers Lord Bloody Cardigan, "and repeatedly try to stop them from killing Queen Victoria. But mostly it was me, Evie, and Jayadeep."

[handleyourshit]

She's seen that, so Rosita just nods. Hope is a brutally dangerous thing - the presence of only a sliver of it makes people do insane things to try to save it, and the absence of it makes them do worse things because what is the point? It's easy to judge when she's outside of it. She finishes her cake, reminds herself to be grateful, and listens to the story he has to tell.

She barely remembers any of her high school history, and it's been years since any other part of the world - England or India or, shit, Mexico or Canada - seemed like even the same planet for all that they could reach it physically or by radio of any kind. She does eye the way he's dressed as he speaks - he talks about gangs and she remembers they're different from the American version, though maybe not so much as everyone would wish - and finally, she nods.

"I probably would have clutched my pearls once upon a time, but - " That Rosita Espinosa might as well be as dead as the rest, so she only adds, "I can think of a few times we could have used someone willing and able to do that. I'm sorry your family raised you up into it though. Did you ever get a choice not to, if you wanted?"

[assassin_daddy]

He's heard about variations of Earth that have a different history to his own- hers may well have been wildly different. Or did the templars and Assassins exist in her world, and their ridiculous war only ended when society fell completely? He doesn't know, she doesn't either, and probably they won't ever actually know. He just assumes their worlds aren't connected, and that's probably for the best.

Jacob laughs. "I can't imagine you doing that. I don't think too much surprises you."

"No. There wasn't ever any choice. My father... he was very dedicated. He wanted us to be dedicated too. I've tried... not to be the same. My boys know what's happening in the world. But their path has to be their own."

[handleyourshit]

Jacob laughs, and Rosita smiles tolerantly, a dry, understated expression that isn't exactly disingenuine but isn't her most sincere, either. "I'm not who I used to be," she answers simply. If he can't understand that - and she thinks maybe he can, with everything going on now - she can't explain it any better.

Besides, this is more important just now. She's not surprised, not with comments she's already heard, but she also has to be careful which questions she chooses from here.

So, watchful: "Boys? How many kids do you have?"

[assassin_daddy]

"None of us are." He says- how can they be? Everything they've endured has changed them somehow, maybe them something new. Not better, just new, different from the old. He would like to think he's learned, become more careful, more responsible, but he may well have just become more distant from other people for having been left alone.

"I had two. Two sons." He says softly, fingers toying with the glass and for a moment it seems he's going to take another drink, but instead he sets it down on the table again. He can't look at her, as he says it, he doesn't want to see what her expression might be. Pity? He's not sure. She's seen enough death. But it's different when it's your own child. "One died, just before I came back here."

[handleyourshit]

Kids die first and hard these days. It's difficult enough to get through a full term pregnancy, to get through a birth with minimal complications, but winters are hard, food is scarce, and walkers are everywhere. Of all the women she's seen start to swell, of all the babies she's seen born, she's seen maybe two handfuls make it to learning to walk, barely more than half of those making it to double digits. It used to just be depressing, mostly, to hear someone has lost their child; but now something seizes in her that feels more like fear.

She barely manages not to look down, and to delay moving her good arm across her own stomach protectively until she's already answered, until it's on a delay.

"I'm sorry," she says, not pity, but sincere. And, a subtle edge that might be anger on his behalf: "However they make choices for this program, they're certainly not doing you any favors."