multiversallogs | → people are fragile things, you should know by now

Who: Irene Adler, Mycroft Holmes
What: Just get in the carriage, Mycroft.
Where: ...a place, followed by The Vault.
When: A little after this.
Notes: Mycroft hates fun, PASS IT ON
Warnings: The Vault, Irene, TBA

First, she sends the bird-drawn carriage. It's her favourite carriage to rent- completely impractical, of course, with the wrought iron of the carriage and white silk cushions providing no shelter from any unfavourable weather conditions and the brightly coloured plumage of the giant, flightless birds that pull it no defence against their unpleasantly loud squawks. She isn't surprised when word is returned to her that he refused to get in, and doesn't give any instructions to force him, simply thanks the driver- already paid- and sends another.

She's not that surprised that the sleek black carriage drawn by graceful black- bears? Yetis? Creatures with beady bright purple eyes is also turned down.

When he refuses the- gorgeous, she thinks- winged lizards, she has to wonder what on earth is wrong with him. Can the man not appreciate a pretty reptile?

(Well, he doesn't like her, so probably not- she has to smile to herself as the joke occurs to her).

Finally, however, she relents, and sends a tasteful, simple carriage with a plush red interior, all dark wood and rich colours, pulled by perfectly ordinary bay horses. There, Mister Holmes. Try it out for size.

In her dressing room at the Vault, Irene ensures the doormen know where to send him, and shoos everybody out, before turning to her dressing table. Now, about lipstick- burgundy? Plum? Coral? Blood?

She twirls an eyeliner pencil in her fingers and pouts at her reflection, and starts applying her armour.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mycroft looks around for somewhere suitable to sit, but there aren't many options. He decides to go for a plain-looking stool that, despite its inoffensive looks, has surely seen its share of sin. Ah, yes, from this angle he can see tooth marks in the wood. Delightful.

"I wasn't the one who scheduled this meeting, Ms Adler," he says, crossing his legs and smoothing his suit (it's difficult to look dignified while sitting on a stool, but difficulty never stopped Mycroft). "Nor was I the one who wasted both our time with those ridiculous carriages, though I'm sure the amusement must have been worth it to you."

His tone is unaffected, his expression 'vaguely interested.' He's not concerned about Irene's time or money. Neither is Irene. They'll both do things exactly the way they want them done, regardless of their surroundings. Mycroft knows that if this job were to get in Irene's way, she'd toss it aside without hesitation.

"Now, now. You were the one being dreadfully stubborn about getting in," she points out, smiling widely.

'Vaguely interested' indeed. Mycroft Holmes doesn't move for vague interest. He moves out of necessity- and he's moved to come here, which is both pleasing and telling.

"So. Let's be totally frank with each other, how about that?" ...And he gets a sharp smile, because of course being totally frank isn't exactly her area. "You first. How's Baedal treating you?"

Being totally frank is as much Mycroft's area as it is Irene's. He offers an obviously false smile with a side expression of 'Ha ha, aren't you clever,' and says, "Apparently not as well as it is you, although I can't say I'm surprised. Your profession is rather... portable, is it not?"

And in a place like Baedal, Mycroft knows that not only are there plenty of secrets to be found, but that a sex club will be one of the best places to find them. The number of politicians and other influential persons on Earth who have been laid low thanks to seduction is astronomical. He can't imagine this place being any different. Irene should thrive on it.

"Well, of course," she agrees cheerfully, eyebrows raised- everything about her suggests that she's being pleasant, charming, a people person through and through. Save for the riding crop and the see-through ensemble, that is, and the fact that she's flanked on either side by lipstick and dildos.

(All in a night's work).

For a moment she's all big eyes, mock innocent and genuinely patronising, cooing, "Everybody's got a kink, no matter who they are or where they come from." She smirks at him. "I bet that even goes for you, Mr Holmes."

It feels a little strange calling him Mr Holmes when it's his brother she's used to using that name for- but nevermind.

Mycroft's smile gains an edge that wasn't previously there.

"I'm afraid that possibility is not related to the type of business I've come here to discuss tonight." As though he'd needed any further proof that Irene isn't bothered about her schedule. She's just toying with him now.

There are times when Mycroft is content to let others act out their dramas in front of him—it makes them feel more confident, more like they have a chance at getting the upper hand, and in turn they become much easier to manipulate. He's already seen Irene's act, however, and what lies beneath is a woman who could crush nations with these simple kinds of games.

Safest to cut straight to the point, then.

→ people are fragile things, you should know by now

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