multiversallogs | drifting away, i'm one with the sunsets

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drifting away, i'm one with the sunsets

Who: Integra Hellsing with Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, and Mabel Albans respectively.
What: Job interviews!
Where: Hellsing Guild Hall.
When: This afternoon and the next morning.
Notes: Different threads! Go nuts. Also YES MABEL GOT ADDED IN HERE because stuff would have happened about on the same day and... we're lazy about making new log posts.
Warnings: Does Jack need a warning label?

Perhaps it's for the best that they won't be coming together - the questions Integra has for Jack are strikingly different than for Ianto, after a point. I's strange to think that she'll have no history with Ianto, but they were never particularly close; perhaps it's only strange that Owen isn't alongside him. But that's not something she has time to reflect upon in anything besides a strategic manner - she writes out her notes for what she needs to ask, then puts away the paper, committing everything to memory easily with the exercise.

... And then it's all paperwork and managing bumping cases as she waits. By the time Jack is scheduled to arrive, she's actually in the process of walking back up from the basement, but the attendant in the lobby will be able to ping her easily enough regardless.

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Jack nodded. "I was a field agent. For about...a century. Give or take a little while here and there, when they put me on special assignments." He shrugged. "Torchwood sort of owned my soul. It was either work for them or let them experiment on me to try to find out what made me tick, and well. I didn't really like how that second option sounded, y'know?" To put it mildly, that is.

She wonders a bit, at that flippancy, and is again reminded of Alucard, and why she never really pulls on the chain that exists between them. (Sometimes, when things are very quiet, she remembers the feeling of horror that overwhelmed her as a girl when she first found that beast in the dungeon beneath her home, and realized what her forefathers had done.)

God, she hopes this man never does anything to his head.

"I'm hardly interested in your soul, Captain Harkness. Your leadership and fieldwork experience, however - I don't have many section chiefs, as it were, and if you'd be willing to handle a variety of calls for a while until we sort out where you're the most suited to, I think I can put you to work overseeing a few people, and getting out there and annoying some monsters."

Jack nods. "I'm used to running a small team and annoying monsters with it," he says with a grin. "Torchwood Cardiff was made up of 5 of us, including me. I'd like to think that I knew what I was doing there, but I guess time will tell to see if I'm gonna be any good at this job, now won't it."

He sits back in his chair. "I'm gonna assume that because you're talking about putting me as a section chief, that I guess I nailed this interview, then, huh?" he asks, with a wide grin.

"I don't have time to make any more of a fuss about it," she admits. "My policy thus far has been to take people at their word and just fire them or forgo a funeral if it turns out they were lying." Which sounds so ludicrously harsh that it might be a joke, from someone else, but considering the utterly insane world they're trapped in, it makes a kind of sense. (And she isn't kidding.)

Do you know what time it is now, Jack? It's more paperwork time. "Of course all our work here is confidential within the organization," she tells him as she produces things for him to fill out. "Politicians tend to hate us, and we stay as clear from the Militia as possible. I employ several non-humans, one of which has a tendency to sneak up on people for kicks, so don't take that exceptionally personally."

Jack shrugs. "I think you'll find that it's really pretty hard to sneak up on me at all, so I doubt that that'll be a problem," he says. "When you've lived for as long as I have, you're not so easily duped." He says it like he's an old man, which goes against the way that he looks, all charming and handsome and young. Immortality definitely has its perks, after all.

"As for the rest of it, I'm used to politicians not giving a hoot about us, and I've no idea what the Militia here is like, but if it's anything close to UNIT then good riddance, as far as I'm concerned. As for non-humans, I've been traveling all over time and space. I'm pretty used to all different sorts." He shoots her a smile, walking a fine line between professional and flirty as he speaks.

His looks versus his age is not what throws Integra - it's how casually he speaks of it, almost like it's a joke. She wonders if it's a defense mechanism, because she knows he isn't lying about his age - it doesn't seem like a false ploy to impress her.

As for his almost-flirting, well. Perhaps it's obvious that she doesn't seem to be noticing it, or at least, she doesn't seem to be recognizing it for what it is. Maybe she just thinks Jack is extremely smiley. "Excellent." Here, have all these papers. "Thankfully our political liaison has has joined us - thankfully for our contextual presence, anyway, I'm sure she'd prefer to be at home - and Princess Nuala is adept far beyond what my patience permits." Dry, that last bit.

Jack grins widely at her dry humor. Damn, but he's always loved the British. "I hear you on that," he says, with a smirk. "Believe me when I say that I hear you on that one." He eyes the paperwork that she gives him.

"So. Am I gonna have to fill this all out here and now, or...?" It's obvious that paperwork really isn't his thing, but that the sooner he can do it and get it out of the way the better it will be for everyone. Especially Ianto, because the poor man might end up being bribed into doing most of it for Jack, in the end.

"If you'd like to get it overwith," she says, and points at various bits on the papers, explaining as she goes - it's actually quite minimal, mainly sorting payment and confidentiality. The rest is information on what businesses in Sobek Croix offer Hellsing employees discounts, notes about what gods Nuala's chosen to patronize on their behalf (Integra doesn't understand any of that and chooses to ignore it), and so on.

"I've time to give you a brief tour, if you'd like, but as we're in prime operating hours at present you may have to take a joke with my attention span."

"Might as well," Jack says, before picking up a pen and going through the paperwork with her, signing and filling out all the necessary parts with a neat and legible hand. He had to live through the 20th century after all, you bet his hand writing's fabulous.

When they finish, Jack caps his pen and hands her the paperwork back and cocks a grin at her. "If you wouldn't mind, a tour would be lovely. Nice to know what sort of a facility I'm getting myself into signing up for this place, you know?"

Integra tidies her desk back up while he writes, and then takes the papers and sticks them in what amounts to her 'in' box. (Nobody likes paperwork. It's miserable. But she takes her job seriously and obsessively enough to be good at it anyway. Sigh.) She pulls a small silver pin - shaped a bit like a shield - out of her desk drawer, and comes around to stand in front of him.

"I have to put this on you manually," she explains, and holds it up in the direction of his jacket lapel, if he doesn't mind. "It's charmed not to work if anyone else does it; it's a pass through the wards. Princess Nuala makes individual ones for employees now that she's returned, so you can look forward to not bothering with this, as soon as she's had time."

Jack gestures for her to go ahead and put it on his jacket for him. It's going to be a pain to get it through the thick material, but it's the only thing that he ever wears on a daily basis, so it's going to have to be put there no matter what. "Wards, huh," he says, idly. "As in magic wards then...?" It sounds clear from his tone of voice that the concept of magic and the likes being real is a definite new thing for him. Where he came from, after all, there is no magic that he's aware of, and the supernatural is usually explainable by aliens or science of some sort. Still, he's got enough experience with the unknown that he doesn't question it at all.

It's fine; Integra has sturdy hands, and she's used to much stronger opponents than thick wool and lining. Once that's attached, she leads him out of her office, and begins the trek through the medieval structure. It's clearly been retrofitted to be compatible with (relatively) modern amenities, and while some parts are more put together than others, much of the has only been reconstructed to functional levels.

"Hermetic, as is my family's specialty," she confirms, "Along with Fae magic courtesy of the Princess, and some other ingenious contributions from a handful of particularly gifted employees."

She points out the door to the basement, and a narrow, spiral stone stairwell that leads from the second floor to the inner courtyard. (There's a less nerve-wracking exit on the other end of the building.) "We don't have a tech staff, as specialists of that nature here are rare, and with the raw material situation making it very difficult to remain well-stocked on firearms and ammunition, it's a necessity to be creative with our armaments." Thus, magic.

"No tech staff, huh..." Jack's a little surprised at that, considering the background he's coming from. Torchwood was rather tech heavy and tech savvy. He doesn't know quite what to make of it, in all honesty. "You guys don't have anyone that might be on some sort of tech staff for this place, then?"

"Some of my aids can work things well enough - better than I can - but it's been a difficult track. It's not a trade often taught, here, due to the resource situation. Besides the CiDs, which some people go so far as to claim to be gifts from the gods," and she is clearly dubious about that, "Technology is notably inconsistent. But we've supplemented with magic, because we've had to."

Being from 1999, Integra hadn't switched Hellsing at home over from paper archives quite yet, even - the technology she's most familiar with is the sort that comes in the form of anti-aircraft missiles. "We've stockpiled everything we've come across, however, in the event we ever end up with a functioning department of that nature." In fact, she takes a detour, then, to head down to a secure room near the armory so she can show him the tech graveyard (for lack of a better word).

Dead laptops, micro chips, compact particle accelerators, broken things not of Earth - a plethora of bits and pieces, laid out on shelves, neatly ordered. She fusses with a lightbulb to get the room illuminated. It's organized, if clearly disused. "We could probably sell a lot of this for petty cash, but I've had them hang on to anything that looked useful. If you can make anything of what's in here..." she shrugs. Have at it, Jack. "Power supplies and replacement parts are a huge issue, here. Just like bullets."

Jack makes a note of where this room is and how organized it is as well (hopefully they'll have someone coming in every once and a while to tidy up after him, because he's never been so great at putting things back where they came from). He could definitely use some of these things to make other things. The power supplies bit is going to be a little hard, though. He'll see what he can do.

"Yeah, I've noticed that about the tech here. It's kinda behind the times, even by 21st century standards. I'll see what I can make from this, though." He grins at her. "I went to military school in the 51st century. I'm pretty sure I might be able to swing a few things out of whatever you've got in here, given that you've got the right parts. Repair's going to be a bit more tricky, though..." That is, when he's not throwing himself out into the field. Which will happen often.

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drifting away, i'm one with the sunsets

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