Chapter Text
"Right, we'll need to get to Mayfair, along the Strand and up Pall Mall. This is still a Templar Borough so please, keep yourselves as discreet as possible. No conspicuous weaponry, no public drunkenness. No brawling". You addressed the motley assortment of yellow sashed thugs employed by the Fryes in their makeshift coachyard, punctuating each statement with a firm stare at the worst offenders.
You still hadn't become completely accustomed to giving orders to the Rooks. But they respected you just about enough to heed your advice, even if some of them were noticeably bristling at you.
The objective was simple enough, enter a fancy society party and assassinate a target and leave. And do some secondary scouting for other prominent individuals in the Templar hierarchy. As an fairly unknown assassin you could infiltrate without arousing suspicion. The Rooks would be present in support as the area hadn't been completely cleared of its less desirable element and drive you there as properly befitting a fancy schmancy society lady. You sighed quietly as you made your way over to the carriage door. That was probably the hardest bit. You'd been trussed up into a dark blue dress with an uncomfortable boned corset. For all that it was pretty, and overlaid with beautiful jet beading, It pinched when you inhaled, and exhaled for that matter. How on earth Henry came by it, you didn't want or need to know, you mused irritably.
A tall figure with his back to you was attending to the harnesses and making sure the horses were ready to go. You didn't recognise him from behind. Brilliant, a new one. Probably the greenest thing here. They could've at least given you a driver with some experience. The other Rooks had left, already making their way to Westminster on foot.
"You. We leave in 20 minutes". You directed at the dark coated back and started doublechecking the knives that you had slipped into your black boots. "I affirm what I said to the others. Just do your job and draw no attention to yourself".
"Yes, Miss". Your eyebrows knitted together as you recognised the deep cockney inflected voice. You grabbed the arm of the driver and whipped him round to face you quickly.
"Frye!" Your first feelings were incredulity and irritation followed swiftly by laughter at his appearance. He was wearing a dark coachmans long coat over his usual white shirt and waistcoat. Topped by a frankly ridiculous looking baker boy cap.
You doubled over and he stared at you with arms folded in annoyance. Every time you regained composure another look at his surprisingly boyish looking face under the hat caused you to burst into another wave of snorting.
Eventually, you stood up to full height and straightened the skirts of the dress. Taking a breath to steady yourself was more difficult under the stupid corset.
"Finished?" He asked archly, leaning against the coach looking irritated.
"Frye, is that……is that you under there?" You flicked the cap upwards with your finger, your voice coloured with barely suppressed laughter.
"Course it is" Frye glares with mock affrontery "And to think I was going to drive you to this shindig on my evening off".
"You look about 15" your voice cracked into a fresh fit of giggling.
"15" he repeated stonily. At this moment, he certainly looked sulky enough to be an adolescent.
"You look adorable though. Very cute and innocent looking". The face that was normally shadowed by an assassin hood or top hat was illuminated softly by early evening light and given a youthful cast.
"Cute. And adorable. What every man wants to hear. Thank you love" he walked to the front of the carriage to get himself into the drivers seat.
"In a good way" you insist, following him over and looking up at him sat stiffly on his perch. "I think I prefer you in it" you add sincerely, trying to rescue the situation.
"Evie said my clothes and appearance was too conspicuous and well known in certain areas".
"So you thought you'd just wear a different hat?" The question comes out with a bit more disbelief than you intended.
"Exactly. I call it stealth". You were well aware of the Jacob Frye approach to stealth. This was certainly an interesting and novel development.
You felt laughter start to bubble up again and swallow it back down. "Yes exactly. When the order was formed and the tenets regarding hiding in plain sight were made, I think they meant wear a creative range of hats".
"Stealth". He repeats, nodding sagely, before leaping down and landing next to you with his usual grace. "Besides, you didn't recognise me and you've seen more of me than most". The statement makes your face colour slightly and you hide your embarrassment by turning and pulling the worn brass of the door handle.
"Allow me to help you into the carriage, Miss". After lowering the steps he offers his hand with unusual gallantry to help you negotiate the steps in your ridiculous layers of skirts and petticoats. You mutter your thanks and return your attention away from Frye and his loaded comments and back to not tripping over or embarrassing yourself in public. Or committing some sort of social faux pas. That would probably happen at some point in the night. The nerves of being in a completely unfamiliar situation with people you find odious combined with the usual adrenaline before an assassination makes your jaw clench and sets your teeth on edge.
Obviously, you haven't hidden your anxiety well enough as you feel a gentle squeeze of your fingers. "You'll be fine" Frye murmurs reassuringly, locking dark hazel eyes on yours.
"Of course". You try to fake the confidence you don't feel and roll your shoulders back into a determined set and look over to Frye. A feeling of relief washes over you at the sight of his face and you lower yourself into the seats in a distinctly less than ladylike way.
"You look beautiful, love. As ever" His eyes rake up your figure, before settling on the beaded dark embroidery of the corset and the swell of your breasts over it with a devilish smile.
Well, Jacob Fryes hat notwithstanding, this was setting itself up to be a singular evening, you think as your charming driver slams the door shut.