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[assassin_daddy]

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

 

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[handleyourshit]

Went out and got what you needed is a phrase that feels so cheap here, feels so easy when she's harvested with her hands and a knife in a field, when she's hunted with a bow and a spear; she picked it off a shelf, swiped a card, and carried it home.

But the cake gives her more pause still than that, and it takes a moment or two to sort out what she actually feels about it, to find the corners of her mouth quirking.

"I did say that, didn't I?" She has to dig that particular memory out of a soup of other, far less pleasant ones, but it's easy: lemon cream cake is one of her go to comfort memories from the old world, something that was safe because she knew she'd never see it again in her lifetime. Not like she remembered it. "Thank you," she says, with the warm gratitude of someone who isn't used to others remembering details about her, who isn't used to the small, mundane gestures anymore.

"Just for that, I'm gonna find you some tea bags," she announces, and begins digging through drawers and cabinets in the large kitchen. There's a foil-covered casserole dish and a covered saucepan on the stove, and the aforementioned bottle of scotch on the counter beside her glass of water. She does eventually produce a small box of assorted tea bags, and shows him with a small smirk. "How offensive is this? I still have the lemonade and the booze."

[assassin_daddy]

It's cheap and easy for a Dominant, but right now Jacob is in a position where he can't do those things. He can't have a bank account. He can't just buy things freely. He has to have a permission note from a dominant to say he has their authority to spend money he earned. And even then some of the store owners would much rather the dominant be the one handing over the cash.

The other problem is that in Duplicity, there are no farms. There's no clear source of food. He knows some people have gardens and grow vegetables but that's not enough to feed everyone.

Still, not important.

He doesn't think she's going to make a fuss- he's happy to drink water or whatever else she's going to have, but then she starts searching and he feels very bad in a very British way- because he's inconvenienced his host.

But the box she finds isn't too bad - it has a couple of those rubbish herb teas in it but most of the rest looks drinkable. He's even gone so far as to open the little paper envelope containing breakfast tea and yeah- that smells good.

"Thank you. But you didn't need to. I thought it would just be nice, considering you were going to the effort of feeding me. And your broken arm. You... deserved something nice. And, full disclosure: I didn't bake that cake. I can't cook for toffee."

[handleyourshit]

"Life doesn't stop because bones break," she replies dismissively, and sets to closing the cabinet doors she just opened during her search.

"Besides, I have no idea what to do with those, so you're going to have to work out what to do with them on your own. There's a microwave there, or - I can grab another pan and boil some water?" What do Brits even do? Rosita doesn't know.

She finally stops moving and shakes her head as she settles on a stool at the island since there isn't a dining table.

"I appreciate it. More than you probably know, so. Just take the thanks, and the tea, and we'll call it good to be going on with. Deal?"

[assassin_daddy]

"Oh, no doubt. But for someone like you? It must be a complete pain in the arse not to have thar arm in play." He can imagine how frustrating it is- he's broken limbs before.

"Alright, I'll accept that, thanks and tea are worth more than their weight in gold." He says with a smile as he starts making the tea. Hopefully there's a kettle somewhere, or he'll just boil water on the stove like they do at home. Either way, it won't take him long, and it's easy enough to grab a mug.

"What can I help you with? Grabbing plates, carrying anything?" He asks, as he let's the tea bag seep in the boiled water. Maybe he should just ask why she wants to see him. He is curious, extremely so, but so far there's been a few little distractions that have stopped him asking.

He'll wait. If she doesn't let him know over dinner, he'll ask. His gut says that's what she wants to do and if that's sohe won't rob her of the chance to talk as she'd planned.

[handleyourshit]

"I tend to make it a pain in everyone's ass," she chuckles ruefully. "I'm not a good patient. I haven't been since the fall." Which is amusing with how often she tells other people to sit down, to do as Siddiq says, to take a minute when they have a minute to take.

"Plates are there," she nods to the pair sitting beside the stove top. "Guests go first. There's rice in the pot, and... it was supposed to be beef enchiladas, but I can't really roll them right just now, so it's enchilada casserole. All goes to the same place anyway, right?"

She tucks hair back out of her face, uncharacteristically uncertain about food that's supposed to be anything specific - about things she recognizes, things from the old world. She shakes her head. "Just help yourself and have a seat. I went easy on the heat. If that was wrong, maybe if there's a next time I'll take a potshot at your tastebuds."

[assassin_daddy]

"You were a good patient before?" He thinks probably not. But maybe it was less of a problem then that should wouldn't sit back and heal.

He takes the plate, but then pauses because he's pretty sure she won't be able to hold a plate and the laddle, even with ab arm out of the sling.

"Ladies first. Yes yes, you'll tell them when you see them. You tell me how much is enough." He says, assuming you put rice down first. That was how Henry did it, and he was Indian, so he knew more about rice than the rest of them.

"I've never tried either of these dishes." He admits to her as he removes the lids. There's something apologetic in his tonebut there's excitement too. "I've had some Indian food, and some other things since I came here, but this isn't something we have back home. Not in my time anyway."

[handleyourshit]

"Yeah, I was," she says simply, shrugging. Back when doctors were in every corner, in every hospital in droves, when drug stores had medications on every shelf and more in tubs in the back besides.

Not important. She pushes back up to her feet and comes over to help when she realizes he probably doesn't know what a tortilla is.

"I'm fucking starving, so load 'er up," she says, but reaches to take over the spatula from him.

"That's rice with tomatoes, garlic, onion, peppers, lime, and chili," she explains, and then shows him how there are corn tortillas layered through the beef mixture, the vegetables, the red sauce, the cheese. "And normally all this filling is rolled up in the tortillas, then coated in the sauce and topped with the cheese. Tonight you just get a pile of food." She cuts it like lasagna, and can't help but smile a bit at how mad her grandmother would have been, how she would have accused Rosita of being made lazy by these Americans.

"You like spice? Heat?"

[assassin_daddy]

"Pile of good sounds marvellous." He counters, taking an interest in all she says. While Rosita's grandmother may have disapproved, Jacob is clearly delighted by all of this, how much sense it makes go have piled everything in like a layer cake when you're tired and recovering from not only being kidnapped, but with a broken arm to boot.

"Next time, I'll try to help you with that." He says, meaning rolling things up and preparing things the traditional way. He'd like to learn. He should learn to feed himself. It's been long enough.

"I like it when it's not just there to hurt you." Jacob says, "But I think the heat I'm used to is different from this. It smells very different."

There is something more citrus in this, probably from the lime she's told him is in it. The flavours he remembers from Henry's cooking are more earthy.

"And I'm afraid we don't have any sort of heat in English cooking at all. Probably because spicy things don't like the wet and the cold."

[handleyourshit]

"That's why I spared you this time," she chuckles, supervising the assembly of their plates until she's satisfied, considering his offer - that he'll help her. She wants to take another crack at this, at making it taste exactly like her abuela's, because this batch doesn't. She has no idea what she's missing.

She'll have to try again, so she nods. "Sure. I won't even twist your ear or smack your knuckles," she teases, but it's fond. She loved her family, when she still had them. It feels nice to have this connection, even if she simultaneously cautions herself not to get attached.

"We'll ease you into it," she decides, going back to her stool, taking her water since Jacob has volunteered to help bring over plates. "I still remember which peppers are the hottest. I won't let them hurt you."

[assassin_daddy]

"Small mercies," He says as she teases him about twisting his ear. "But I think you're more than capable of making grown men quake with that sharp tongue of yours."

She isn't physically a big woman but he is in no doubt that she could hurt him. But she could probably also castrate him with words alone if she put her mind to it. Best not to upset her.

The plates are set down, and he goes back only to collect his mug of tea, adding a little milk to it and then join her at her table.

"You're a hero." Jacob laughs as he sits, picking up a fork. "Hopefully I won't need saving too often."

Then he digs in, tentative at first, but none of the ingredients she'd listed sound too exotic. Beyond the chili and the lime. And as he'd expected, its delicious, with just that little bit of smokey warmth.

[handleyourshit]

"If that's what you want to believe, I certainly won't stop you."

For all her disparagement of the final dish, of it not matching what she remembers or what she was taught, Rosita has gone hungry far too many times to balk at putting away hot food. She holds off for the first few bites, not staring at Jacob but paying attention anyway in case he does have questions, in case she's grossly overestimated his ability to withstand even the mild chili powder she did put into the sauce and the rice.

But he keeps going and it's the only signal she needs, in turn, to straight out demolish half her plate before she slows down enough to remember where they are. She sets her fork down and picks up her water instead, and nurses it for a moment to give herself time to focus, to organize her thoughts.

"I wanted something nice first, regardless," she says, finally letting herself pick her fork back up again. "But I talked to my friend a few days ago. Who, apparently, has been talking to Vrenille. And the two of them have been discussing the two of us."

She watches as she works on gathering another forkful to see if this is ringing a bell for Jacob, too, or if it's completely out of the blue for him.

[assassin_daddy]

Ah. There it is.

He had wondered, but he wasn't sure exactly what the discussion had been like for her and her friend, or if she'd simply laughed the suggestion off. It seems like she hasn't, if she's invited him here.

"Vrenille and I have talked." He says, carefully. It wasn't an easy conversation. How could it be? There some hurt there, some pain, despite how much Jacob is trying to be sensible.

"They were playing match maker. I don't much like it when people go around behind my back." He says as he pauses and sets his own cutlery down. It's good, he doesn't want to stop eating, but this discussion needs his focus.

"But I guess in the instance it's from a place of concern."

[handleyourshit]

"Mmhmm," she agrees, and can't help but quirk her crooked smile because she'd had the exact same reaction to the idea that Jesus was talking about her and making decisions behind her back - even if she's not entirely surprised. Jesus gonna Jesus.

But she can nod with confidence, anyway, that it is from a place of concern. "It is. And he's annoying about it sometimes, but Jesus is good at seeing opportunities. They want to help."

She sets her fork down, too, and sets her chin on the back of her loosely curled hand, watching him more openly now.

"Enough about them though." For now. Things are still complicated with Vrenille and if she and Jacob have any hope of any kind of partnership, that's definitely going to come up again - but not now. "What do you think?"

[assassin_daddy]

He takes the opportunity to pick up his mug, hot and steaming, letting his fingers be warmed against the side. He's broken his fingers countless times, and the cold makes old pains ache, and it is getting cold in Duplicity again. Subway, the housing for submissives who have become Duplicity citizens, doesn't have heating.

It doesn't have much of anything, but the lack of heating is what he notices most.

"I think it could be benefit us both. If you can stand the idea of it, and it isn't something you find abhorrent, I have no qualms. But there are some things I would want to have written in to any agreement."

He needs to make her aware of those, just put it out there. He's only had contract with people he loved. He'd never been in this position, needing one for convenience. It brings to mind the things Vrenille said, about the Submissive having an equal amount of control.

"I'm sure you do as well. I expect some of them are the same points, truth be told, but we need to put it out on the table before we do anything serious."

[handleyourshit]

It's tricky to even know what to say, what to offer; what's most important to her in the context of a contract? She can put on an act for everything else, but this involves another person. This involves another life, and as she's seen happen - as she's been told - they do have the potential to really fuck things up for each other.

And Rosita does not have the best track record when it comes to working with other people. Not the worst either though, and she rubs her fingertips together in a fidget she's not entirely aware of.

"I have a rough draft I've been working on here and there. Just something off the generic one they hand out, a starting place." She smiles briefly, but it's one of the dry ones that doesn't reach her eyes: "I was working as a paralegal before the world ended, if you'd believe it. Never thought I'd be using that skillset again."

She doesn't move to get it yet though. "I'd want it to not be miserable for us if at all possible, and ideally we wouldn't fuck each other over intentionally. I'd want as much wiggle room as we could hammer into it - I don't trust easily, and I don't see that changing any time soon, but I don't need that fucking things up for people. For you. So, honestly, as little as I can manage to change about your life is good for me: sleep with who you want or don't, work where you want or don't, live where you want or don't, and if I can swing the titles to your places with whatever I have saved up then I will, and they're yours."

She raises an eyebrow - his turn.

[assassin_daddy]

What she says is sensible, and very much what he was hoping to hear. She's mentioned before who that she doesn't trust anyone, and if he'd had her life, perhaps he wouldn't either. As it is, he simply nods to her statements, accepting the information, and appreciating the honesty.

"I don't intend to fuck anything up for you. We both need contracts, and more importantly, we should all be trying to look after each other. I know that's not an easy thing to do when you don't know other people's motives, and you don't trust them as far as you could spit, but we were all brought here by the city, and we have to try and be united against them."

He knows that's a big ask, and maybe she'll think it's too simplistic a view. Maybe it is, but it keeps him going.

"I think we've got some fundamentals in common- I want you to be free to do what you want, who you want, where you want. I want some freedom for myself, to have my business and my friends, and not be at anyone's beck and call. I will do everything I can not to get you in trouble. I can't pretend I'm a saint, but I don't think you are either." He pauses, at the mention of housing.

"I have a place, in the Up. It's called Broken Hollow. I think I mentioned it before. I want to live there. I don't much like these buildings. But I don't know what will happen, about the Arena. I'm sure Vrenille will let me have Hollow and the Eagle. Or at least, they transfer to you. I can't own them. Ever. But the Arena is his, by rights. "

[handleyourshit]

The thing is, he sounds like someone she used to know - but also that she used to know a lot of people, and that's part of the problem. So many people are temporary. So many causes only last as long as the thing that united people in the first place, and that's good, that means Rosita has been on the winning side far more often than not - or at least the surviving side - but it also means she's seen how everything breaks up after. How it just vanishes.

She has done the most amazing things in her life, united with others for a reason, or against some enemy or another, or both; things she would have never imagined she could do in the life she used to have. As the person she used to be. She did a lot of it by following Rick Grimes, and now - it's an easy line, easy to say and easy to believe in and much harder to hold - here's someone else saying they have to look out for each other. Band together. Have each other's backs.

But Rosita knows not everyone will make it, and she knows you can't trust everyone to have your back the way you have theirs. She doesn't disparage his comment, but it's also blatantly obvious she doesn't quite buy in either. She just listens.

She just nods.

"Live where you want or don't," she says again, because she does remember him talking about it, remembers how he's felt his affinity shifting away from the city. She gets that. She glances around the suite, a place she was assigned and that she appreciates as a locking door and a place to stash the things she hoards, but that she feels no attachment to, that can be taken from her as simply as it was given. "I don't have anything here. Even before the old world fell for me, I didn't. So I don't have anything to prioritize over something you want."

She presses her lips together, considering that. "And he's attached to it?"

[assassin_daddy]

You can't promise your goals and dreams will always be the same as someone else's. Jacob, sat at her table right now, organising his first contract with someone he doesn't love since he got here, feels that very keenly. But even if it isn't forever, he will try not to let this woman down. He will try not to allow the city to hurt her. If that's letting her tell him what helping her looks like, he will accept that.

"Thank you." It's important. He loves London. He loves protecting it's people, running across its rooftops, but Duplicity isn't like London. He wants some space, from the big glass buildings, from the noise, from the bright lights and future trappings. He wants the Hollow, quiet and safe. Easy to guard.

"If we sign this, it's ownership passes to you. If you want to live there, the city will consider that your right, I think. There is enough room there. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. You can see it, if you want."

He makes the offer, because it seems... fair. Right. She might feel better, away from the city too.

"The Arena was owned by other Submissive of his. A guy called Oswald, who inherited it from someone else. When Oswald went away, it went to Vrenille. And I ran it because... well. It was my area of expertise. I fortified it a bit. Made it safe from the other gangs. But it wasn't mine."

[handleyourshit]

She told Jesus only days ago that he's the only one in this entire city that she trusts enough not to feel insane around; who, by his very existence and the fact she doesn't have to explain anything to him, makes her feel more stable, more confident that she didn't just dream the insanity of their world. She knows she didn't, but sometimes other people say or do things that grate so strongly on her, that she has such an instinctive reaction to as wrong, that she begins to wonder if she's the one that's missing something.

Normally she lets it go. But they're trying to build a partnership here, and she isn't good at it, but she knows that going in on bad faith brings disastrous results. So she hesitates, draws a deep breath, and leans on the trust she has for Jesus in his ability to see things she doesn't - and on the things Jacob has told her, that she believed he meant at the time. She tries.

"There's something you need to understand about me, if this is going to work. And I'm not... looking for approval, or an opinion on it, or advice. I know myself. I don't really care if other people think this makes me a bad or a good person or any of that. I know what works for me." She doesn't have the contract in front of her, so she gestures around the apartment to bring the city and its bullshit into the conversation.

"This is a place that still gets away with something as arbitrary as laws. Where a piece of paper and what it says on it still matters enough that people, large groups of people, act on it. But I'm from somewhere that all that broke down. All that went out the window the second there was no one to support it - and a piece of paper is just a piece of paper, and a law is just an idea until someone else enforces it. All there is for me, what matters most to me, is what is and what isn't."

If it sounds harsh that's because it is, because at its foundation Rosita's world is black and it is white and grey is a luxury she tries to shade in but doesn't always manage.

"Ownership of the Hollow may be in question because of a name on a piece of paper, and because a group of people choose to believe in an idea. But as far as I'm concerned it's yours, because it's yours. Full stop." There's more, but she needs to be sure she's being clear on this, that he understands this - because it translates to the contract, too, which is more of the same.

[assassin_daddy]

He listens, giving her his full attention, because she started off saying this was important, and he wants to prove to her that he takes this seriously, that he will listen and he will act on what she tells him.

Once she is done, he nods, mulling it over and taking his time to try and understand and be certain that he understands.

"It's hard for someone who hasn't lived that to understand, but I will try." Laws for him were always sort of irrelevant, but the Creed ruled your life. It's no different.

But he doesn't go into that. He just has to try and remember that for her... Nothing is true, everything is permitted. That was how she lived.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. The Eagle more than anything else." He fixed that place up with his own two hands, with friends, and it's important to him. "I'll show it you, if you're in the Down and want a pint."

[handleyourshit]

"I'd like to see it," she admits. "Not because of - any of this. I was already curious. The rest of this just makes it messy."

Which is her objection. She remembers what Jesus said - how for him, the contract means he'll never know for sure if someone supporting him is social obligation or genuine care for him - and even though she doesn't have any such complications, she doesn't know if the same is true for Jacob. He's certainly using the language the city uses first and foremost, and she doesn't yet know how much of that in turn is because he's bought into it, because he thinks it's most pertinent to this conversation, or if he thinks that's what she'll need the most explanation for to move forward.

"And I'm not saying I don't understand that there are hoops we need to jump through in order to have the smoothest time possible here. I understand that. But they're just that, to me: hoops. Things we're saying or doing to get people to mind their own business so we can go about ours. So yes, I'll go to the fucking courthouse or whatever, I'll sign whatever needs signed and pay whatever needs paid, and I'll write my name at the top of a piece of paper that proves ownership to anyone else who might care. But that doesn't give me a right to what's yours. Does that track? Does that sound like something you can work with?"

She understands on a mental level that somehow, someway, there are people in this city that believe in these contracts, that value these arrangements and these roles as vital. She doesn't understand it - beyond the sanctity of an agreement and the weight of someone's word in general - but she doesn't have to in order to understand people are different, and have different ways of thinking and living.

[assassin_daddy]

"This is all just for the city, I'm aware." He says, and offers her something of a smile. She's being very good, making it clear that she is just doing what the city requires of them, making sure that its by the books, satisfactory to those in charge. But it's not something either of them believe in. It might seem to her that he's following the party line, but in truth? This is strange for him. He's never had a contract like this before, where he hasn't been romantically involved with his partner where signing with them was something they wanted so they could be together enjoy living together.

This feels... like a business arrangement. Distant and removed in a way that he'd be used to signing off on supplies or property, not his own freedoms. Because she's right, they could fuck this up for each other. At the end of the day, this city has the ability to hurt them, really hurt them, and she is considered his keeper.

"The last time I did this... it was a bit different. And I'm a little out of practise. But I understand what you're saying. And I appreciate it."

He doesn't think she's going to fuck him over. He hopes he has a good read on her. He hopes Vrenille isn't wrong to trust Jesus. He hopes... a lot of things, really. That this isn't actually the end of his relationship with the other man, but he isn't sure.

"It tracks. All of it. If you want me to read over a draft of that, I can do whenever. Just let me know."

[handleyourshit]

"I have a copy in the coffee table drawer," she admits, but then, she's the one who called this meeting of sorts. She should be prepared, given the topic and her own decision to invite him here.

She doesn't move to get it yet, though she nods to acknowledge that they've made it this far anyway and arrived more or less on a level with one another. But: "That's not to say we can't agree between us to whatever we want. We can set terms of an alliance or... whatever we want. I may or may not be interested in being a Dominant, but I... had a team, once. I have a community, I have people."

She doesn't trust easily, sometimes at all, but she sees the value in working together.

"What was it for you? What's your ideal? What else do you need to know is being covered?"

[assassin_daddy]

"I thought you might." He says, because it seems like something she would do, be prepared have read the suggested contract the city provides and then allows people to tweak, within what it considers reasonable. "Do you want to look at it woth a slice of cake?

Which isn't to say he's finished this course yet, he intends to finish what's on his plate, but he's bookmarking it, lwtting her he plans to look at it. Showing willing.

"I think we have a good foundation to work on. And maybe we put something in about... renegotiating terms at the halfway mark. Or before. If things don't work for either of us, we have the chance to change things." He pausesand gives her a slight smile, one that makes his hazel eye bright his mischief. "Like if you want to move poker nights to Wendesdays. That will require renegotiation."

The string of questions makes him sigh softly, and lean back on the dining chair, holding his tea to his chest.

"When I signed with Vrenille, I was in love. I didn't much care about the details, because I knew him. I knew he wasn't going to put bullshit in the contract, I just wanted to be with him. He put the terms on the table he knew I'd like, because he cared about me." He shrugs then, taking a long swallow of tea. "Before that, I was contracted to someone else I cared about. You know how it is, you're young and everything is perfect. Like a summer romance."

He turns the rest of her questions over, trying to think of what they've missed. "I can't think of anything else. Not right now. But if something crops up, we can add it before the official thing is signed. How long do you... have?"

He needs to know, so he doesn't waste time that could risk her ending up in a lot of trouble.

[handleyourshit]

He smiles at her and teases; she raises an eyebrow, sly in return: "Oh, you think you want a poker night, do you? Didn't know you had a masochistic streak." But then they don't actually know much about each other, do they?

Which means she listens, and for all that it probably seems she would dismiss something like that - love, and trusting in the agreement between them on the strength of it - something around her eyes softens faintly before she drops them to push cooling casserole around on her plate.

It's different because they don't care about each other, is what he's saying. She only nods, and presses her lips together.

"The 20th," she answers without really thinking about it. "There's time. And look - I know people we care about said this was a good idea, but it's still up to us. If we don't want to - if you don't want to. It's no harm, no foul. I'll figure something out. I always do."