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It’s a cool evening in Metropolis Central, and there’s a buzz of activity that’s unusual even for a weekend night. The Policeman’s Ball is happening tonight, a yearly event for “charity” that practically everyone in the city knew was really more to fill the pockets of a certain big time gang. Despite this being common knowledge, anyone who was anyone who was actually invited to it were still enthusiastic to go. And most of them wouldn’t let anyone else forget that they were going.
But further down the river in the area of town where the only encounters most people get with the ball is seeing it in the newspapers the day after, the Meddlesome Company is at their office. Unlike most nights they aren’t working on/avoiding paperwork, but rather getting ready.
“I still don’t fucking see why you aren’t the one doing this bullshit mission, Deadeye.” Scout is attempting to push Deadeye’s hands away from his tie to no avail, and looks annoyed with the entire scene. “You’re better at this spy shit.”
“It’s exactly because I’d be expected to take on this job that it has to be you,” Deadeye says. “Brawler and Demo aren’t subtle enough, and my mannerisms are too obvious to be well hidden. You’re better at camouflaging yourself, now stop fiddling with the tie so I don’t have to keep re-doing it.” He yanks particularly hard on Scout’s tie, which is effective in making Scout stop. For the moment, anyhow.
“Still think it’s bullshit.” Scout grumbles. “Demo and Brawler are gonna get to hang out downtown, and you get to- Uh, what exactly are you planning to do tonight, Deadeye.” He scowls up at Deadeye with a suspicious look in his eye, and the other man responds by shoving a mask in his hands.
“I am going to be there as well, but looking for Innovator. If you’d listened or read my report you would know that he’s likely planning something during the charity ball, and I am best suited to dealing with him. Also, honestly Scout, you’re going somewhere where you’re going to get high class free alcohol. I never thought I’d hear you complaining so much about that.”
“The sheer amount of high proof alcohol I’m gonna need to be able to deal with Scofflaw trying to schmooze his way into everything would get me arrested for public intoxication, Detective.” Scout scowls and studies the mask in his hands, his brow furrowing.
He guesses the mask is nice enough, even though he knows exactly jack shit about masquerade masks. It’s silver in color with purple highlights, and is shaped like a wolf’s head. Scout isn’t a big fan of the colors, but if nothing else at least it’ll be harder to recognize him. It was given to them by the same man who hired them for this shitfest, who had been so convinced that the Scoundrels were up to something. Sure, he was paying the Company good money to poke their nose into things, but Scout refused to just accept anything at face value when it came to the Scoundrels.
As he and Deadeye start out of the office, Scout can feel himself starting to get wired, the way he always does whenever he’s going into somewhere potentially dangerous. Sure, usually a big party for all the socialites of the city wouldn’t be considered exactly dangerous, but considering who was going to be there he wasn’t going to be taking any chances.
“Remember, Scout, none of the Company is going to be around. So try to avoid interacting with any of the Fuzz or the Scoundrels directly. They will all definitely recognize you the moment you speak, and…well, to be frank I don’t believe you’d be able to resist fighting them.”
“Thanks, D, I can always count on you to see the best in me. Fuck off and do your stupid cat and mouse routine with the skeleton already, alright?” Scout shoves at Deadeye’s shoulder, but not even hard enough to tilt him slightly off balance. Deadeye straightens up and nods, as if Scout’s given a totally serious order.
“Understood. I’ll be careful so long as you’re also cautious with how you act, alright?” Deadeye doesn’t return the shove, but the look he gives Scout is close enough. He walks off ahead of Scout, and Scout waits for a few minutes before going down the stairs as well.
There’s no way he’s going to be putting on the mask when he’s so far off from the party. He feels as if he’s taking a big enough risk in wearing his most classy, expensive suit in the neighborhood the office is situated in. While his suit isn’t exactly the most expensive in the city, it would still cost a whole lot of time and money to get it cleaned up if he has to fight someone attempting to mug him.
It takes him a while to meander his way down to the place the ball is being held. It isn’t actually that far to walk, and Scout knows that he could have gotten a taxi at any point and shortened the trip by about half. But the ticket to get inside is burning a hole in his pocket and he has this feeling in his gut that is making him jumpier than usual. He knows he can’t put this off forever, obviously, but that doesn’t mean he can’t at least try.
The mask has to go on before he’s seen by anyone else, though. The name on the ticket isn’t his, and questions are the last thing he wants so early on. He takes a moment in the darkness of the nearest alley to straighten himself out. The mask goes on, and he heads towards the front door with an uncharacteristically confident stride. As far as he knows, if he looks like he knows what he’s doing, he’ll get inside much easier.
He shouldn’t have worried so much. The guy manning the front door is frazzled, and doesn’t even seem to do more than glance at Scout’s ticket before waving him in and turning back to speak frantically with someone trying to argue their way in. He guesses he should be grateful for their distraction but there’s a much bigger one that’s taking up all of his attention.
Scout has only ever been in the large entertainment hall attached to the theatre when there’s been something to investigate in there and that usually was far after the parties have already happened. It’s much, much different now when the festivities are actually going on.
The grand hall has been decorated lavishly in a way that manages to make even the green decorations look less hideous. The Fuzz can probably afford all sorts of nice decorators for this one event, considering what the end goal is. From where he’s standing Scout can see the buffet tables laden down with food worth more than his apartment and enough alcohol to fill the river. Everyone is dressed at least a couple levels above Scout, and he does his very best not to let it seem like it should be something that warrants notice.
He moves around the edge of the room, eyes searching for the two people he knows he’s got to avoid if he wants this to go well at all. He spots Snowman pretty much instantly and can’t help the sneer that appears on his face. She’s on the other side of the room, luckily enough, dressed in one of her absurdly fancy dresses. Even from how far away he is he can see that it’s sparkling in a manner not really normal for your average dress.
It’s a good thing that he’s around a large group of people when he sees her, or he would be mumbling some scathing words under his breath.
As for the location of Scofflaw, Scout is having more trouble with that. Scofflaw isn’t absurdly tall, or even all that sparkly, and Scout can only see through the crowds at certain times. This could be a problem. Out of all of the people who could recognize Scout without taking off his mask, Scofflaw was even more likely than Snowman, since they ended up interacting so much (for better or for worse).
Scout was just going to have to keep an eye out, then. He could probably do it best over by the drinks, perhaps even better with a drink in hand. He eases his way through the crowd, doing his best to not bump into anyone. He’s about a foot from the table and is already eyeing up what looks like a particularly expensive bottle of whiskey, when he bumps into someone.
“Sor-” He starts, then looks up and the word dies in his throat. It’s Scofflaw. He’s bumped into Scofflaw. He knows it’s Scofflaw, because Scofflaw is the only disaster in the city who would wear a bright green mask with goddamn silver laurels. Scout swallows and then speaks with as casual a tone as he can muster. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
Scofflaw blinks at him and leans forward, clearly looking him over. Scout tenses, and readies himself to bolt. It’ll be pretty useless in gathering information if his cover is already blown… Not to mention that he’s not going to stick around if Scofflaw is going to harass him for the rest of the night. No amount of booze would allow him to deal with him.
“Oh, hey, no sweat.” He says then grins and offers out a hand. “Peccant Scofflaw. Can’t say I recognize you.” Scout stares at the hand like it’s a viper for a moment, then takes it cautiously. Scofflaw shakes it vigorously, and Scout is thrown off for a moment. He’s never actually been on the receiving end of Scofflaw’s schmoozing. It’s very different to his regular jackassery.
“Riveting Reporter. For the Metro Times.” He says. He hopes that Scofflaw doesn’t know every reporter in the Times. He also hopes that his professional voice is different enough to throw Scofflaw off.
“Heh, guess you’re pretty busy tonight, huh? Biggest party of the night and all?” Scofflaw grins in the way he uses specifically for the cameras and Scout’s eyes flit around, wary for any flashes going off. He doesn’t really want to see himself on the cover of any magazines tomorrow, looking like a startled deer.
“Oh, er…yeah! Yeah, haha, it’s something alright. First time here and all.” Scout coughs and tries not to seem too obviously like he’s attempting to escape. “I was just going to go and check out the buffet table, actually-”
“Oh, yeah, I getcha. Well, I’ll leave you alone but hey, be sure to get some really good pics of me later on, huh?” He claps Scout on the shoulder and glances above his head, seeming to get an eye of his next target before moving on. Scout breathes a sigh of relief immediately and continues his walk towards the alcohol.
He has no idea if Scofflaw was actually fooled. A part of him would like to think that he’s really that much of an idiot, but even after dealing with him for years Scout isn’t at all confident that he’s able to just see right through any bullshit Scofflaw sends his way. That’s…probably fine, though. If Scofflaw wanted to harass him he would have tried tempting him out into the darker areas of the room, not just left him on his own.
That amount of uncertainty is more than good enough for him at this point. He grabs the first bottle he sees (a red wine, not his favorite but at this point…) and pours himself a healthy glass. He’s only gotten through one whole sip of it, when a presence makes itself known behind him, and his hackles raise.
“Scout, what are you doing here?” Snowman says, and Scout pivots to look at her, barely keeping from splashing his drink over. “You realize this isn’t exactly the best place to break into, correct?” Scout sneers at her, and sets his drink down so that there’s no chance of him being able to toss it onto her automatically. He’d have to actually work at it, and if she makes him that mad, well. She deserves it.
“I didn’t break in, so fucking sorry to disappoint.” Scout hisses his words so that there’s not uncalled for attention to him. If he just started shouting everyone would know who he was for sure. “I’m on a job and got in here completely legitly. So why don’t you poke your bedazzled nose into someone else’s business.”
“Oh I’m terribly sorry to have interfered in your incredible undercover work. I suppose you must be looking for a missing child, considering that’s the only person that would be fooled by your…disguise.” She doesn’t need to make the quotation marks with her fingers because Scout can hear it loud and clear in her voice.
“If it’s good enough to fool Scofflaw then it’s good enough to do my damn job with, thank you very much.” Scout stands up straight and looks her in the eyes as best as one can through the mask. She seems almost amused, which makes Scout’s blood boil.
“That is easily the truest thing you’ve ever said to me. I’ll leave you be to your little farce, Scout, but I do hope that you don’t do anything that would cause a disruption. That would be unfortunate.” She smiles to show her teeth and Scout bares his right back at her. She walks off and Scout stands there for a moment regretting not splashing her with his drink after all.
He takes a long, long sip of his wine and squares his shoulders. It’s time to do a bit of investigating. Normally he’s pretty shit at this, but Deadeye isn’t here to pick up the slack. He’s going to have to put in his all to figure out if their employer had anything to his paranoia when he sent them here.
It is surprisingly easier than he thought it would be to interrogate people. Though it’s not exactly interrogating so much as it is him introducing himself as a reporter and people practically falling all over themselves to talk to him. It’s almost gratifying considering the usual chilly and cagey treatment he gets when he’s just Scout. Being someone else seems to have a few perks to it, he should probably try this more often.
But even as people are eager to talk to him even when he tries to edge into topics around Scofflaw, he doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Either no one knows anything even vaguely recent about the Scoundrel’s plans, or they’re being tight lipped on purpose. No matter the reason, it’s starting to seriously annoy Scout. How the hell is he supposed to do his job like this? His employer couldn’t have even given him half a sentence of information to jump off of, no Scout had to do this all from scratch. Bullshit is what that was.
He’s just about to give up for the night and perhaps attempt to slip out to go complain at Deadeye for a while when he sees Scofflaw coming towards him through the crowd. Scout wishes deeply that he could be more prepared for this sort of thing but once again finds himself startled enough to allow Scofflaw to reach him.
“Heeey, buddy!” He claps Scout on the shoulder. Scout is glad that he didn’t bring any easy to reach knives with him. “How’s your night been going, huh? I’ve been seeing you buzz around so I guess you’ve been real busy, right?”
“Er, yeah. Definitely.” Scout says, trying not to seem too nervous this time around. Scofflaw latching onto him like a particularly annoying flea is exactly the opposite of something that would help him right now. But it’s not like he can just turn him away. At least, not as Reporter.
“I’ve been hearing,” Scofflaw says. “That you’ve been real busy asking lots of questions about me, Reporter.”
Scout curses his apparent inability to read Scofflaw right now. He’s smiling but he isn’t sure if it’s the “I’m going to take you into the alley out back and shoot you” smile, or if it’s the “I’m trying to be charming but am being intimidating by accident” one. The smiles are sometimes interchangeable so that doesn’t make his job any easier. Maybe he can just…keep acting.
“Well yeah, of course I did. I mean…” He glances away, and hopes that it comes off as more bashful than avoidant and nervous. “Who wouldn’t if they got a chance to hear more about you?” When all else fails, he knows flattery is the fastest distraction available.
It seems to work, too, because Scofflaw’s smile’s definition goes from uncertain to “definitely flirty” in half a second. This is not the best possible outcome but Scout is not complaining. Yet.
“Well, if that’s all you were interested in, you should have just said so!” Scofflaw is full on grinning now. Scout tries to take a moment to say something back, and in the moment Scofflaw is offering out his arm. Scout stares at it like it’s something particularly venomous. “C’mon. Why don’t we have a dance, and then you can ask me aaaall the questions you want?”
“Oh, uh.” Scout didn’t expect that to be asked, and flounders for a moment. Then he reaches out to take Scofflaw’s arm, more legitimately uncertain now. Sure he could just say no but that would mean passing up the chance to interrogate Scofflaw face to face. Why would he pass that up? “Sure, but I gotta warn you I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Hey, no problem there. You think half these upper crust folk are as good at dancing as they pretend to be?” Scofflaw laughs in the most derisive manner possible. “Just follow my lead and you’ll already be doin’ better than half of them.”
The music has been a background constant the moment that Scout walked in, but the actual musicians and dancing area were far away enough from the tables that it was more on the level of restaurant music. Now that they were getting closer, it was basically inescapable. Scout finds this a little relieving because maybe this means he’ll be able to get away with ignoring whatever Scofflaw says with the excuse of being unable to hear him. Well, he can dream, can’t he?
When they actually get onto the floor, Scout is beginning to regret things. People are staring, mostly at Scofflaw but quite a few at him. He wonders how many of them are more attentive than Scofflaw and recognize him, and how many are just mad that Scofflaw’s flirting with someone unimportant instead of with them.
He so incredibly wishes he could tell them it is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Scofflaw takes Scout’s hand and puts his free one on his waist. Scout knows enough about fancy dancing to put his hand on Scofflaw’s shoulder, and to ignore the butterflies rising up in his gut. People dance all the time! Some of them even do it for a living. Just because he’s doing it with Peccant goddamn Scofflaw doesn’t mean that he should start tripping all over himself to figure things out.
At least Scofflaw is true to his word. Scout is certain that with anyone else, even Deadeye, he would have already tripped and broken someone’s nose. But Scofflaw is graceful, coordinated, and distracting enough that when he speaks Scout not only doesn’t hear him, it takes him a few moments to realize he even spoke.
“Sorry, what?” He says. Scofflaw looks amused and leans in closer to Scout, not missing a step. Scout nearly does, though, when his heart skips a beat. He can’t help but to be overcome with how cliché all of this is, from the ball to the closeness to his infuriating blushing. It gets to the point that him trying to frantically dissuade himself from even thinking of swooning nearly makes him miss out on what Scofflaw’s saying, again. That would careen this from romantic cliché to just embarrassing.
“I said, the song’s almost over. How about we go somewhere more…private, and you can ask all the questions you want?” The sultriness in his voice is undebatable. Scout opens his mouth to respond, but it’s like his brain puts the breaks on his automatic answer of “yes”. He closes it and reconsiders for a moment.
“Uh, that sounds great, but,” Scout waits patiently as Scofflaw spins him. “I’d need a moment before we talk. Uh, gotta…Get prepared and all that.” He doesn’t care that Scofflaw will probably take that in some bullshit way, he just…wants to get away for a bit. Clear his head, have a drink. Clearly all this is getting to him if he’s feeling fluttery over someone who can’t even recognize him.
Scofflaw dips him and gives him a dazzling smile.
“Take allll the time you need, buddy.” He says as the song ends and he helps Scout straighten out. He pats his back and Scout stumbles off before he can say anything else.
It’s surprisingly easy to find a quiet place in the hall. There’s an area nearby the coat check that’s shadowed and has a little half wall surrounding it. If someone was to press up against the wall, it would be difficult to spot them from the main floor of the ballroom. This is perfect for Scout’s plan of huddling into the shadows and drinking from the emergency flask he’d brought.
It would be so, so easy for him to just leave. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d just walked off a case and it wouldn’t be the last. Deadeye wouldn’t even be able to get angry at him, this time. Well, he probably would, but he would have less of a leg to stand on than if this was a normal non-Scofflaw case. Scout is even of the opinion that Deadeye’s gotten off relatively easy this time around. Innovator likes him, after all, it can’t be that much of a pain to interact with him in a polite manner. Probably, anyhow.
Scout takes a long drink and considers his options. On the one hand, if he leaves now there’s a chance that he can escape Scofflaw’s attentions all together. On the other hand, if he stays, he can probably gain some information that may or may not prove to be completely useless. On the other hand, spending any time alone with Scofflaw will probably be hazardous to his health, especially if he finds out his actual identity.
It really feels like he’s got to choose between a rock and a hard place, and god does he ever hate that feeling.
He slides down the wall and covers his face, groaning a little into his hands. Even though he really, really wants to pretend that he’s making a big choice here, he knows what he’s going to choose. There’s no possible way he’s going to refuse this chance, he knows this damn well. He should just get it over with. He knows that too but can’t quite make himself get up off the floor.
In his defense it’s way more comfortable than the thought of going back out there.
He’s just made the decision to get up, no really this time, when he hears footsteps drawing near. He’s up on his feet like a shot, trying to smooth out his outfit and brush himself off. There’s a broad chance that it’s actually someone who matters but he doesn’t want to take that chance especially considering how his luck is.
He’s grateful for this choice a moment later, when Scofflaw rounds the corner. There’s a moment where he looks surprised, then relieved.
“Oh, there you are. I was starting to wonder where you’d run off to! You’ve been gone for like, a half an hour. What are you even doing over here?” He goes to stand next to Scout, still all smiles. Instead of answering, Scout lifts up his flask and takes another long drink. There, that’s obvious enough, right?
He gives Scofflaw a proper look only after he’s finished his drink, and the look on his face gives him pause. It’s uncertain, studying. And then as he watches it morphs into disbelief.
“Uh, what’s-” He starts, but is immediately interrupted.
“Scout?!” Scofflaw says in a tone of voice that suggests he’s never heard the word before. “Holy goddamn shit! I- What?” He looks frazzled and more than a little embarrassed. The cool and suave façade is gone and replaced with someone who is clearly shocked by these turns of events. Scout pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.
“Are you kidding me right now. Is this some fancy way of you being an asshole again? Because seriously, if you’re trying to tell me that you didn’t know it was me…”
“I didn’t!” Scofflaw almost sounds convincing, but it takes a lot more than that to convince Scout nowadays.
“Oh, okay. So assuming you’re telling the truth what made you suddenly see through my cunning disguise of a suit and mask.” Scout says. He’d normally be a bit more careful in his words when dealing with Scofflaw but he’s actually feeling a little offended that the gangster thinks so little of him that he’d tell him such an outright lie. Scofflaw’s reaction is a bit strange though. Usually he drops all pretense of trying to trick him when Scout refuses to take the bait. But right he just looks baffled.
“Uh, well, you’re drinkin’ outta one of the flasks I gave you. Look, it’s even got my laurel on it.” He says, and Scout looks down to find that unfortunately Scofflaw isn’t lying about that, either. Dammit, how stupid could he get, to bring the wrong flask along with him? “What the hell are you even doing here, Scooter? I know damn well you don’t have the kind of cash to get a ticket in here.”
“Ugh.” Scout goes to rub his temple, then gives up completely and takes off the mask. No sense in still wearing it when his cover’s blown. “I’m here on a job, Scofflaw. I mean, I guess it’s fucking doomed now but I was in fact actually doing my job while you were schmoozing or flirting or whatever the fuck.”
“I’ll have you know that that is my job, Scootie. And look,” He leans closer to him, and Scout straightens up as his nerves go on high alert. “You were flirting right back with me.”
“I was not! I was trying to get information!” Scout says as indignantly as he possibly can. And it’s the truth, as far as he’s concerned. Just because Scofflaw was eager to flirt with someone for the chance of getting a story done on him doesn’t mean that Scout was actually flirting back. But of course this doesn’t actually seem to matter much to Scofflaw, who’s grinning wide again.
“That so? Well, how about I make you a deal, Scout?” Scofflaw slings his arm over Scout’s shoulder, his grin turning decidedly smugger. This is the Scofflaw Scout’s used to. Not that that means he has any easier work cut out for him. “How about. I’ll tell you the real answer to whatever nonsense brought you out here tonight. And in return… You gotta give me a kiss.”
Scout turns to look at him and the edges of Scofflaw’s smile turn down for a moment.
“Come on, don’t give me that look, christ. You’d think I’d just said you’d have to give up all your knives forever. ‘sides it ain’t like you haven’t kissed me before…” Scofflaw is far too close now, to the point where Scout can feel his breath on his neck and it makes him shiver. In response Scout shoves him away, hand over his mouth.
“Fuck you but fine. But. I get to ask the question first. And if your answer is bullshit you aren’t getting anything from me. Alright?” He waits until Scofflaw’s nodded, and then takes his hand away. “Alright. I was sent here because Jocular Accountant hired me. He said you were planning some skeevy shit. So what are you plotting huh? Doesn’t seem like you’re doing much here.”
Scofflaw goes quiet for a moment and looks thoughtful. Scout waits, and waits, and gets impatient because that should be a pretty easy question to answer, shouldn’t it?
“You said Jocular Accountant, right?” At Scout’s nod he hums. “Well, that’s weird because Accountant works for us. As in, the Scoundrels. Why the hell he’d be hiring anyone in the Company to do anything is beyond me. ‘Cause uh, I am not planning anything. I can’t say much for the others but as far as Scoundrel wide events go there ain’t shit going on for a while.”
“…Are you fucking kidding me.” Scout tries not to look too furious, but it’s a lost cause. He’s not dumb enough to automatically believe that Scoff’s telling the truth, but he doesn’t think that he’s telling an all-out lie, either. Scofflaw tends to speak in half-truths at the best of times so right now when a kiss is on the line is almost definitely the time that he’s telling more truth than lie. At least, most likely.
“Nope, that’s the truth! Come on, you can totally just look into him for half a second and find out that he’s on our side. Or at least I was pretty sure he was. Think I’ll have to pay him a visit later… But hey, for now…” Scofflaw leans forward and taps his cheek clearly marking where he wants the promised kiss.
Scout gives him a long, considering look, and then grabs him by the lapels of his suit jacket and yanks him down into a kiss. It’s not gentle or sweet, but judging by the way Scofflaw immediately wraps his arms around Scout’s waist and kisses him back, he doesn’t care. Scout gets shoved up against the wall and can’t even bring himself to care. There are hands in his hair, and he bites down on Scofflaw’s lips a little harder than is strictly necessary.
Scout shoves Scoff in the chest very suddenly and smirks a little when he stumbles back. Scofflaw’s lip is bleeding, and Scout is somewhat embarrassed to feel an ache on his hips where Scofflaw was holding him. But he notes that Scofflaw doesn’t look unhappy, except perhaps at the fact that they stopped kissing.
“Hey, you wanna maybe go somewhere more…private and continue this?” Scofflaw says, leaning against the wall and wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.
“…That’s a really fuckin tempting offer but I’m gonna have to pass. Gotta go and write up how much of a failure tonight was.” Scout runs a hand through his hair and shoves his mask back on. Even though people probably know who he is by now, that doesn’t mean that he wants to just admit that. He can at least use the idea of anonymity to escape with his dignity still intact. Somewhat.
“Aww, c’mon. No more dancing?”
“Scofflaw you know damn well that I’m a shit dancer. Don’t push your luck or I won’t wanna meet up later.” Scout grins a little at the way Scofflaw perks up at that. It’s almost…endearing. Almost. “Now are you gonna be a gentleman and walk me outta here or am I gonna have to storm out all dramatic like.”
Almost instantly Scofflaw’s at his side again, taking his arm. Scout allows himself to be lead back to the front door, where he even weathers a kiss on the back of his hand. Then he’s gotten away and is strolling out, in a much better mood than previously. While the amount of alcohol he’d drank might have something to do with his chipper mood, even he can’t deny that the truth is probably closer to the fact that Scofflaw is a pretty good kisser. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud, of course.
He takes off his mask once he’s about half a block from the festivities since he’s not going to really need it anymore. He isn’t looking forward to getting back unless he manages to get there before Deadeye does. He doesn’t want to answer questions, doesn’t want to deal with the disapproving looks… At least, not when he’s feeling so pleasantly buzzed. He decides to enjoy the quietness of the night as much as possible, while he still can.
“Scout? What are you doing out already?”
Scout is not proud of the startled sound that comes out of him, but he’s pretty pleased with his reaction time on bringing a knife out of his suit. But when he turns to face the voice, it’s just Deadeye with a raised eyebrow. Scout considers stabbing him anyways but puts his knife away a moment later.
“Jesus Christ give a guy a little warning, huh? I nearly skewered you.” He runs a hand through his hair and starts walking again. Now that he knows he’s there, he can hear Deadeye’s footsteps much easier. “And I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be hanging around this early, either. Isn’t dealing with Innovator kind of an all-night thing?”
“Yes, well…” Deadeye adjusts his suit even further than its already immaculate state. “I was somewhat quick to discover the reason I had to deal with him, and I didn’t want to stick around all that long once I did.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that, gotta be more interesting than what I found out. Which was jack shit by the way.” Scout seems to be getting more into this, now. Maybe Deadeye’s interesting night will make up for his bullshit.
“…We were well fooled. The reason that we were given the case, and why we were given somewhat specific suggestions as to who we should go keep an eye on, is because Innovator wanted to set up a surprise date for me.” Disapproval drips from his every word. Scout stops in his tracks to just stare at Deadeye.
“…Excuse me.”
“I went up to the roof where our “client” told me he believed Innovator was going to be. And what do I find when I arrive than a nicely set up table, with my favorite foods all nicely arranged, and Innovator actually dressed in a manner which doesn’t make me think he has no lights in his house.”
“Well. Fuck.” Scout kicks a rock into the gutter and scowls. Dammit, no wonder Scofflaw was so confused. Of course Innovator had his weird skeleton hands in this. “Good thing you just left, right? God damn.”
A very suspicious silence ensues. Scout stares at Deadeye.
“You did leave, right.” He says, despite already knowing the answer.
“…I am not particularly interested in wasting food, so no. I stayed for dinner. Both because of that and because I didn’t want to set Innovator off, I suppose.” Deadeye clears his throat in the way that means he’s feeling bashful. “But I did leave after that, of course. I wasn’t about to be coerced into a date.”
Scout looks up at Deadeye, but even for as long as they’ve known each other he can’t tell if he’s lying or not. But he does notice something else, and grins.
“Man you’re a pretty good liar, D, but your hickies tell a whole fucking different story.” He says as he reaches up to poke at one of the dark marks poking up just above Deadeye’s collar. This makes Deadeye go still like Scout’s just flashed a bright light in his eyes, and he slaps his hand away though not very hard.
“I thought I’d told him not to go above a certain area.” He says, covering his neck with one hand. “…Alright, I suppose you caught me. I did not immediately leave, but honestly it isn’t the worst thing I could have done.”
“Nah, I just never really thought you’d be one to fuck on a roof. Hey, you’d better hope you cover that up before B and Demo get back, or else you’re in for a world of teasing.” Scout grins even as Deadeye elbows him more than a little aggressively.
“Don’t be crude. You know that I would never have sex on a roof, no matter how nice of a building it’s on top of. And what about you? Don’t think I’ve missed your giddy, flushed expression.” He says, and just barely cracks a smile.
“Hey, it ain’t that giddy! I don’t do giddy.” Scout says, giddily. “But yeah, alright. Maybe both of us have something to hide from the big guy ‘less we want a bunch of suggestions shoved under our doors for the next month.”
“Quite. Let’s agree not to rat the other out?”
“Gotcha. I got tons to complain about anyhow, I mean can you believe that Innovator wasted our time like that? And shit, I barely even got to drink after all that effort. Turns out high class wine tastes just as shitty as regular wine and I am so not a fan.” Scout can feel himself relaxing as he walks with Deadeye and complains. It’s been a night alright, but he’d classify this firmly under “nice”. He’s got more niceness to look forward to, probably, if Scofflaw decides to show up again. He can even be grumpily happy with Deadeye’s deal, since no one got into a fight and the city isn’t currently on fire that he’s seen.
If this is what the richer elements of the city experience nearly every night, well, he guesses he can understand why they keep acting like they do. The city looks a little brighter when he’s like this, and he’s willing to cling to that for a while. Maybe once his happy buzz wears off he’ll find something to be pissed at, but for right now he’s going to ride this high until he crashes, hopefully right into bed.