Surprising, Merlin thinks. A move that he didn't expect. Finch has never been especially happy about him knowing a few too many things about this particular lady. Honestly, it's a crime that she's living in a lie like this. That's what he thinks anyway.
He has his feet on the table, leafing through a book that he pulled out from the pile that he gathered on the desk a few hours ago. About encryption, of course. Beside him a cup of coffee that went cold already an hour ago.
"I kind of expected him to show up himself. I'm not sure if I should be disappointed or excited. Hello, again. Is breathing allowed? Or are you going to ventilate me further?"
He shouldn't joke around, though. She could probably kick his ass to Amber and back, a few times.
She knows this face. A business associate of a number from a while back, the wingman. Back then, they were working on a shoe-string budget. Ramen noodles and just her usual arsenal, nothing fancy to augment the firepower. Finch was working on his own thing during that mission, with Root. At the end of it, they somehow found themselves sitting around a table somewhere in Midtown kicking back. The whole gang, minus Fusco. Fusco scored himself a date. Good for him. Shaw and Reese ended up staring blankly at the nerds while they talked about coding and programming and other boring shit.
She doesn't ask the obvious question, which is how did you find this place. If he's a hacker, he might have traced Finch back to his last known locations. Finch was always very careful, but no one is perfect.
"Me," Merlin agreed. Disappointing, wasn't it? All this hype for nothing. Just some dull programmer breaking into a library.
"I want to see Finch. I have business with him."
Straight to business was probably the best course of action here. She looked like straight to business sort of person. As long as he remembers, she seemed to be like that.
"You wouldn't happen to know how to make that happen?" Cheeky, he gave a small grin while dropping his feet to the ground and stood up, stretching. "I would write before swinging by, really, but I feel like there would be armed men waiting for me if I'd do that."
No armed men, just Shaw. You probably would've been better off with the men. Nevertheless, she lowers her gun, for now. She might not take out your kneecap now, but she remains suspicious. Who wouldn't be, considering his timing? So soon after Samaritan's demise, the programmer who could impress the likes of Root and Finch waltzes back in, looking for the man who built The Machine? She doesn't know whether he knows about any of it. But The Machine wouldn't send her here for a useless hacker. There's something else at play.
"He isn't here," she says rather unhelpfully. The answer is beyond just the obvious. He isn't here, in New York. Possibly the United States. Or maybe he's dead. Things got hairy near the end of the war. But if he's still alive, he doesn't want to be found. And no one could get off the grid quite like Finch.
"I can see that," Merlin says at length, one brow rising as he considers her. It's hard to make out anything from the way she acts, though. She tends to be pretty expressionless most of the time, doesn't she?
"But you don't mean just physically not here right now, do you?"
Because why would she say that?
Merlin watches her carefully, hands on the desk as he decides to shoot in the dark a bit. Throw it on the wall and see what sticks.
The Machine didn't send her a number, just an address. Because why? Does this guy not have a number? Is he the threat? Shaw considers him with a scrutinizing gaze. She's not giving away anything, not even an 'I don't know,' which is the unhelpful truth, but still a piece of information. She's been in this business long enough to know that you neither confirm nor deny. Not until you have some information of your own.
She should ask questions first, and then shoot, if necessary. A 'scalpel.'
"What's your business with him?" she asks at length.
This is horribly unhelpful. He's getting nothing out of her. Not a single thing. He would rather not push if he doesn't have to, but he will if it seems necessary.
"I'd rather leave that up to him to decide whether it's something to share," he says with a mild shrug. Earlier Finch hadn't told her anything about Amber and Merlin knows better than to close any of those details without his approval.
"What's with the secrecy?" He drops the grins and the playful tone, hoping it'll give her some sort of incentive to give him something to work with. "Is he... out of town?" Maybe Finch has walked and left this Shadow to fend for itself. An unlikely scenario but crazier things have happened.
'What's with the secrecy.' As if secrecy isn't the prime asset of any good hacker. And if he understood Finch at all, he would know that he's a very private person. She furrows her brow a little.
The guy makes it sound like Finch is aware of whatever this 'business' is. But he could also be deflecting the question.
"You want Finch, you go through me," she says. Not that she has any means to find him, but she does have The Machine (if she feels like cooperating). Besides, a little subterfuge is necessary if she's to get to the bottom of this without putting holes in anybody. Trust her, she's doing you a favor.
Merlin is not a hacker, though. Not usually. He's a developer and a programmer. And an ex-king. But that's neither here nor there.
"It's about me," he admits, swallowing and putting forth a feeler, offering her a blue eyed stare with a hint of pleading in the mix. "I'm in a little bit of a trouble. I need information. He is in a unique position to gain it."
He'd rather go without holes, thank you very much. But he can't speak about things that Finch doesn't want to let her know. Not like this. Not when he's about to ask the man's help.
Finch was in the unique position to gain access to lots of information, before he disappeared. His Machine might have been a closed system, but Finch himself had skills of impressive magnitude that was invaluable to their little makeshift crew. And as it turns out, information was often the trigger to many of their numbers turning up on the list. Having too much of it, or not enough. Like Leon, who found out belatedly that he was laundering money for the Aryan Nation. Or Cole, who touched upon the greatest secret of all and got shot by his own people for the trouble.
"Let me guess. Your life is in danger," she says with the unsurprised sort of expression that makes it clear she's been through this sort of thing many times before.
"Oh, look." Merlin inhales and seems to settle in for a long explanation. However what he says is just: "My life is always in danger. There isn't a single day when I'm not in mortal peril. But that's not why I'm here. Someone tried to kill me, several someones to be honest. And while usually this wouldn't shake me, this time I know there's more behind it."
He leans a bit forward, hoping to catch her attention finally, maybe get a more than a deadpan nothing out of her. "All I want from him is to talk with him. I don't expect him to put any feelers out, just to see if he already has what I need."
Funny enough, Shaw knows all about being in constant mortal peril. It's hard to hide from an all-seeing ASI, a god-like sentience who is bent on annihilating you, your associates, and anyone else that stands in its way. Shaw wonders what sort of peril this guy could possibly find himself in. The possibilities are endless. Samaritan was hardly the only threat humans could unleash on each other. Just the most powerful.
He stares at her for a moment, then rubs his stubble with a hand before his lips curve into a small smile.
"Well played," he finally admits. "I figured you were grilling me to see if you'd let me see him. But there you go, effectively got me to sing about my peril without anything to give back. A+."
He looks up at then, wondering if there are some hidden cameras in the premises. There probably are.
"Ghost, do a scan for me. Cameras, wireless, hot spots."
"Yes, dad."
The circle of light that's been hidden under his sleeve slips out and shoots out of the door.
Shaw's trigger finger twitches when she sees something fly out of his sleeve. Some kind of a drone, maybe? She narrows her eyes and watches it fly out the door. She already knows it's not going to find anything, but doesn't bother to mention it. Finch sanitized the place a long time ago. He knows better than to leave any trace of himself in a place that's been compromised.
"If you really are in peril, you should be more careful who you talk to," she says with a brief smirk. You lucked out at least in Shaw: she won't imperil you any further than you already are. Assuming you're telling the truth, anyway.
"You can't really gain anything by not taking chances," Merlin says with a shrug. "Only people who land on their asses on goldmines get forward without paying something in advance. And I don't have time to stay in this place and build rapport and coterie and sweet talk you into giving me what I want."
He digs up a pack of cigarettes and lights one, shaking the pack invitingly towards her.
"And the thing is, you should be careful how long you let me linger here. I will bring trouble with me."
Shaw shakes her head, declining the cigs. That shit will kill you. Not that she's in any position to lecture anyone on safety. But not smoking will definitely extend her life more, if only to give her body the stamina to keep moving when it has to. In her line of work, you need every advantage you can get.
She moves to the window, beside the clearboard that Finch once used to display all the photos of their numbers. She rubs the dust off the pane and carefully peers out into the street below.
"You should work on your sweet-talk, you're crap at it."
She glances back at him, amused.
"What kind of trouble are we talking about here? I left my grenade launcher at home."
"Do you?" Merlin quirks his brows at her while he pockets the cigarettes. The smoke doesn't do much for an Amberite. Not everyone likes the taste of it, though.
And she might still not know what she's dealing with here. Has Finch told her?
His grin is a little wild when she claims he's crap at sweet-talk. She isn't wrong. "You could say that. I believe in mutual gain. Bargaining has always been more comfortable for me."
He taps the ashes from the burning tip of the cigarette to the coffee cup. Might as well not be rude and soil the floors.
"The kind that grenade launcher won't help with, I'm afraid. But I admit the idea that you have one kind of turns me on. Let's try this conversational gamble: It's going to be Chaos."
Of course. Trouble will always find a girl who keeps grenades in her refrigerator. If she doesn't go looking for it herself.
As for bargaining, she leaves that kind of thing up to the Machine. It used to be Finch, but she's calling the shots, now. It's not quite god-mode, but more open than before.
"Chaos?" She quirks her brow at that, as it's said in a way that's supposed to mean something. "Is that some kind of secret hacker codeword?"
Alright. Finch obviously hasn't told her much, if anything. Merlin doesn't want to be the one to make that decision. And Finch probably wouldn't thank him for it if he did.
He shrugs. "No, just that it'll be chaotic, you know, the kind of stuff that you wouldn't believe exists."
He takes a moment, just smoking and scratching the underside of his chin, trying to find a way out of this situation that doesn't require him to break the murky code of camaraderie that they have in place here.
"So, you don't have any way to contact him?" Just making sure here.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
purpleandgray) wrote2017-01-16 06:04 pm
no subject
He has his feet on the table, leafing through a book that he pulled out from the pile that he gathered on the desk a few hours ago. About encryption, of course. Beside him a cup of coffee that went cold already an hour ago.
"I kind of expected him to show up himself. I'm not sure if I should be disappointed or excited. Hello, again. Is breathing allowed? Or are you going to ventilate me further?"
He shouldn't joke around, though. She could probably kick his ass to Amber and back, a few times.
no subject
She knows this face. A business associate of a number from a while back, the wingman. Back then, they were working on a shoe-string budget. Ramen noodles and just her usual arsenal, nothing fancy to augment the firepower. Finch was working on his own thing during that mission, with Root. At the end of it, they somehow found themselves sitting around a table somewhere in Midtown kicking back. The whole gang, minus Fusco. Fusco scored himself a date. Good for him. Shaw and Reese ended up staring blankly at the nerds while they talked about coding and programming and other boring shit.
She doesn't ask the obvious question, which is how did you find this place. If he's a hacker, he might have traced Finch back to his last known locations. Finch was always very careful, but no one is perfect.
"I might. What do you want?"
no subject
"I want to see Finch. I have business with him."
Straight to business was probably the best course of action here. She looked like straight to business sort of person. As long as he remembers, she seemed to be like that.
"You wouldn't happen to know how to make that happen?" Cheeky, he gave a small grin while dropping his feet to the ground and stood up, stretching. "I would write before swinging by, really, but I feel like there would be armed men waiting for me if I'd do that."
no subject
"He isn't here," she says rather unhelpfully. The answer is beyond just the obvious. He isn't here, in New York. Possibly the United States. Or maybe he's dead. Things got hairy near the end of the war. But if he's still alive, he doesn't want to be found. And no one could get off the grid quite like Finch.
no subject
"But you don't mean just physically not here right now, do you?"
Because why would she say that?
Merlin watches her carefully, hands on the desk as he decides to shoot in the dark a bit. Throw it on the wall and see what sticks.
"Did he leave? Disappear? Die?"
no subject
She should ask questions first, and then shoot, if necessary. A 'scalpel.'
"What's your business with him?" she asks at length.
no subject
"I'd rather leave that up to him to decide whether it's something to share," he says with a mild shrug. Earlier Finch hadn't told her anything about Amber and Merlin knows better than to close any of those details without his approval.
"What's with the secrecy?" He drops the grins and the playful tone, hoping it'll give her some sort of incentive to give him something to work with. "Is he... out of town?" Maybe Finch has walked and left this Shadow to fend for itself. An unlikely scenario but crazier things have happened.
no subject
The guy makes it sound like Finch is aware of whatever this 'business' is. But he could also be deflecting the question.
"You want Finch, you go through me," she says. Not that she has any means to find him, but she does have The Machine (if she feels like cooperating). Besides, a little subterfuge is necessary if she's to get to the bottom of this without putting holes in anybody. Trust her, she's doing you a favor.
"Is this about you? Or him?"
no subject
"It's about me," he admits, swallowing and putting forth a feeler, offering her a blue eyed stare with a hint of pleading in the mix. "I'm in a little bit of a trouble. I need information. He is in a unique position to gain it."
He'd rather go without holes, thank you very much. But he can't speak about things that Finch doesn't want to let her know. Not like this. Not when he's about to ask the man's help.
no subject
"Let me guess. Your life is in danger," she says with the unsurprised sort of expression that makes it clear she's been through this sort of thing many times before.
no subject
He leans a bit forward, hoping to catch her attention finally, maybe get a more than a deadpan nothing out of her. "All I want from him is to talk with him. I don't expect him to put any feelers out, just to see if he already has what I need."
no subject
She considers him for a moment.
"I don't know where he is," she finally says.
no subject
"Well played," he finally admits. "I figured you were grilling me to see if you'd let me see him. But there you go, effectively got me to sing about my peril without anything to give back. A+."
He looks up at then, wondering if there are some hidden cameras in the premises. There probably are.
"Ghost, do a scan for me. Cameras, wireless, hot spots."
"Yes, dad."
The circle of light that's been hidden under his sleeve slips out and shoots out of the door.
no subject
"If you really are in peril, you should be more careful who you talk to," she says with a brief smirk. You lucked out at least in Shaw: she won't imperil you any further than you already are. Assuming you're telling the truth, anyway.
no subject
He digs up a pack of cigarettes and lights one, shaking the pack invitingly towards her.
"And the thing is, you should be careful how long you let me linger here. I will bring trouble with me."
no subject
Shaw shakes her head, declining the cigs. That shit will kill you. Not that she's in any position to lecture anyone on safety. But not smoking will definitely extend her life more, if only to give her body the stamina to keep moving when it has to. In her line of work, you need every advantage you can get.
She moves to the window, beside the clearboard that Finch once used to display all the photos of their numbers. She rubs the dust off the pane and carefully peers out into the street below.
"You should work on your sweet-talk, you're crap at it."
She glances back at him, amused.
"What kind of trouble are we talking about here? I left my grenade launcher at home."
no subject
And she might still not know what she's dealing with here. Has Finch told her?
His grin is a little wild when she claims he's crap at sweet-talk. She isn't wrong. "You could say that. I believe in mutual gain. Bargaining has always been more comfortable for me."
He taps the ashes from the burning tip of the cigarette to the coffee cup. Might as well not be rude and soil the floors.
"The kind that grenade launcher won't help with, I'm afraid. But I admit the idea that you have one kind of turns me on. Let's try this conversational gamble: It's going to be Chaos."
no subject
As for bargaining, she leaves that kind of thing up to the Machine. It used to be Finch, but she's calling the shots, now. It's not quite god-mode, but more open than before.
"Chaos?" She quirks her brow at that, as it's said in a way that's supposed to mean something. "Is that some kind of secret hacker codeword?"
no subject
He shrugs. "No, just that it'll be chaotic, you know, the kind of stuff that you wouldn't believe exists."
He takes a moment, just smoking and scratching the underside of his chin, trying to find a way out of this situation that doesn't require him to break the murky code of camaraderie that they have in place here.
"So, you don't have any way to contact him?" Just making sure here.