Found and Deciphered

Bass Cafe - Lambeth - London

The bar, when entered, gives off something of a green and oakwood glow. The bar runs along more than half of the depth of the bar, the green inlay in the blond oak serving as something of a base for the rest of the room. Green glassed pub-lights hang from the ceilings in clusters of 4, giving off something of a brighter glow to offset the hunter green shades.

Behind the bar, there is an arched mirror that runs the length of the bar, before which stands 5 rows of all sorts of alcohol upon a dark green counter-top, in graduated heights so the labels can be seen as well as some clean wine glasses. The 8 large-sized cabinets underneath store all manners of overstock and glasses. The chairs in front of the bar are basic, single-slat backed, four-footed, oak coloured bar seats.

The red brickface above the bar is laden with decorations all of a fishing kind, from small lures to larger ones, nets of all shapes and sizes, traps…

The rest of the bar is filled out with tables that can seat two, four and up to six comfortably. Upon the hunter green painted walls hang black and white photographs of the fishermen and their catches that couldn't get away. There is the gratuitous dart board corner as well as a single snooker table.


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Sean Corrie Aidan

Friday night in London is a hopping night. Though the city may not have the reputation for being 'the city that never sleeps', it certainly does put up a big enough fight— in the late spring and summer months, anyway. Most of the patrons of the different night-spots are made up of tourists looking for that 'authentic English experience'. As a result, there aren't many travelers that find their way into the Bass Cafe; a pub that revels in the fact that its owner is American. The bar fare has little to show for it's location in London; buffalo wings rather than steak and kidney pie, and the like. Though, one thing it does boast (even if it is English) is beer-battered fish. In abundance.

The owner of the place, Charlie Mesner, is home tonight, should anyone ask the rest of the help that has stayed to work. (Charlie does give the option for Friday night closings; even if it's busy, it can be a nuisance. HE doesn't like to be called on Friday nights in case of problems.) Perhaps that is the reason that Dr. Sean Watson finds himself seated at the bar.. making himself unobtrusive with a single pint glass of amber liquid in front of him at the bar. He's taking up a couple of spots, what with the papers with him. It's his own fault, certainly, that he's taking work 'home' with him, but the necromancer/archaeologist simply can't find it within him to leave it for morning when he's got the time in the evening…


The last time Corrie was at the Bass Cafe was when she had a run-in with Gideon. Since she's well aware that a place like that is beneath the sorcerer, and Dr. Watson called earlier saying he'd found something, she's made her way here rather than wait until morning. She's supposed to meet Rhys for dinner tomorrow and she needs to know if Aidan was telling the truth or not.

She's dressed rather casually. A nice pair of black jeans, black boots, and a white peasant top that's worn down over her shoulders. When she approaches Sean, she winces at the work she still sees him with, figuring that her 'request' has gotten him behind.

"Dr. Watson? Sorry I'm late. I got stuck in traffic on the way down."


No band this evening; open mic karaoke night (which is probably yet another reason for Charlie's absence), and the beer is flowing as liquid courage for some of the participants. Sean's learned to tune it out, though it doesn't mean that he won't hold it up to Charlie during an argument later.

Putting the paper he's got in his hands down, Sean blinks once in order to refocus his eyes from the printed page (in arial) to a living, breathing person. "Ah.. yes.."

Shifting papers out of the way and making two piles (done and not yet read), he gestures towards a stool in offrance. "I've got it, yes. In.." the last word there is drawn out as he checks the bottom of a pile, ".. here. I think." He picks up the pile, and goes through it. "I know it's here.."


"Relax, Dr. Watson. Let me at least buy you a drink first. It's the very least I could do." Beat. "Then perhaps you could let me know of your expenses so that I can cover those as well." Corrie takes the offered stool and sits on it daintily. She looks behind the bar and when the 'tender comes over, she orders herself a mug of beer. Not her first choice, perhaps, but it's just easier at the moment than ordering something specific.

"Then we can go over what you've uncovered. Though I may likely need something stronger."


All work and no play?

"Ah.. sorry.." Sean offers a tightlipped smile, though the apology does reflect in the blue eyes. "I know it's important to you, so.."

He chuckles soon after and shakes his head, a hand waved dismissively. "Don't worry about expenses, and I'm good with the drink." His voice drops to a sotto whisper, though it's all in good fun, "Any more than this one and I think the bartender is under orders to water my drinks down."

Bringing his tones back to something more normal, he works back to casual conversation, even if he does have his hand on his findings, all typed up and footnoted. "Traffic is always bad in this part of town. Forces people to walk, and when they walk, they get thirsty." How many times has he heard these reasons? "Thus.. the pub."


Makes Sean a dull boy?

Corrie grins at him when he apologizes. "It is, but really I trust you enough to know that if you've called and said you've got something, you've got something."

As for expenses, she draws out a little money and slides it over the bar to him. "Petrol prices aren't exactly cheap these days. At least allow me to cover that." Then she takes a sip of the beer and nods.

"Soda it is then. When you're done I'll have one sent to you."


Aidan thinks that it would be a bad idea for Sean Watson to take up a career in espionage. Not wishing to be limited to making appearances on campus, and because he likes to let people know that he can find his way around their lives, Aidan followed Watson from campus to the quaint little pub once or twice. It was a careful balancing act, knowing that the man would sense him if he got too close, but it was a fun and amusing game to play and provided Aidan with a chance to challenge himself.

Watson left him a message, and then Aidan left the necromancer a message, and the rousing game of phone tag got rather old, rather quickly. Rather than try to find the man working late on campus, Aidan's decided to come down to the pub that the professor haunts. At best, the man will actually be there. If not, it won't be a lost cause. Aidan can always find amusements.

He's going for casual tonight, fedora hat, dark jeans, boots, light gray t-shirt beneath his well worn leather jacket. There are two cute blondes sitting at a table by the door as he enters, and Aidan flashes them both a coy smirk that makes them sit up straighter and follow his movements across the pub with thier eyes.

Sometimes, it's just too easy.

Aidan eyes the crowd looking for Watson, and then crystal blue eyes narrow and focus as he steps into that sphere where he can feel the other man… and knows that Watson can sense him as well. He takes a step in that direction, and then can't help the grin that turns up his lips as he spots a familiar red head sitting with the good doctor.

Approaching the bar, Aidan nods to Sean, "Sean. I thought I would find you here." Beat and his clear gaze slides to Corrie. "You, however, are a very pleasant surprise, Corrie." There is certainly a bit of Aidan's usual flirtatious and suggestive lilting placed on her name.


"I really don't need," Sean puts his hand on the money on the counter. "I don't keep a car in the city. Not much point to it. And I have a metro pass. It really is okay."

"As for the information I have.." A deep breath is taken and let out slowly, "Yes.. well.. I did find sources and documentation.." And stories.

Sean doesn't go much farther, however, as he sits a little straighter on his barstool, and his jaw clenches a little, showing off the muscle of his cheek. His lips press and his eyes rise upwards for a moment. He can feel Aidan's presence, absolutely.. the moment the man walks into the pub.

As a result, he isn't the least bit surprised when he does twist around to catch the grin plastered on the vampire's face.

"Aidan." It's not a greeting, but rather a statement of acknowledgment. He's not very happy that Corrie's here when the vampire is, but there is little he can do about that now.

"Didn't expect you out around these parts tonight. Friday night and all."


"Proof then? She existed?" Corrie's brow shoots upward, and she's suddenly anxious to see it. To have tangible evidence she can bring to Rhys tomorrow evening before she signs the contracts.

Only, she never gets the information. What she does get is her beer mug suddenly careening to the floor and she herself nearly toppling right off of the stool when she hears Aidan's voice.

"Bloody hell," she mutters, grabbing the top of the bar to keep from falling.


Aidan doesn't get a chance to respond to Sean as Corrie's drink makes an impressive first meeting wit the floor and the woman curses. His brows rise in amusement, as he bends down and picks up the unbroken glass and returns it to the spot on the bar. Aidan smiles congenially at the 'tender. "She's going to need another. On me." It was his fault after all. And it'll probably goad her and Sean.

That taken care of, Aidan turns to the necromancer. "As much as I enjoy a rousing game of phone tag, it got boring," Aidan emphasizes the last word with a roll of his eyes. "So, here I am." Beat. "I didn't know that the two of you hung out together, though."


Sean makes something of a dive in the form of a hand-out to catch the drink, but fails as the glass hits the floor. At least he can put a hand out to keep Corrie from the same fate, albeit belatedly as he takes the vampire's presence in.

He nods in answer to Corrie's question, but addresses Aidan soon after. "I had to laugh. It struck me as a little odd that you were actually able to leave a message on my service." That whole 'vampire can't be recorded on video' thing in mythology.

Glancing over towards Corrie again, his brows rise. Does he deny it or make himself sound as if he's something of her 'keeper', even if the bluff won't work thanks to the information imparted earlier in the week.. "Not usually, no." No elaboration there.

"Now that I know it's me that brought you out this way, I've got a couple of things for you." In that pile of paper, but he doesn't say as much. "But I don't think I'll get into any detail right now."


"Scotch," Corrie says nervously. "Double. Neat." Fidgeting on the stool, well aware she just looked like a complete buffoon, she doesn't argue when Aidan offers to pay. Though it's more or less because she knows he can afford it, and she'd rather have the information Sean's dug up than banter back and forth with the vampire all night.

"Thank you," she mutters tersely.

"On a regular basis," she says giving Sean a strange look. "We're planning on running away together. Having a rather large to-do afterward. Five-point-five kids, two dogs, a rabbit, and all that. Really, it's a torrid love affair, can't you tell?"

Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she waits for the scotch and when it arrives she downs nearly the whole damned thing at once.

"Look, I can go. Leave you two boys to… each other…" Double meaning there? Quite possibly just to irk Aidan.

"And I can catch up with you tomorrow morning, Dr. Watson. I'd really like to hear what you have to tell me about that little matter we were discussing."


"You are adorable when you're being snarky," Aidan tells Corrie as he slides onto the stool beside her. It's not so much to annoy Corrie as it is to put some distance between himself and the necromancer. He can get used to that tingling, pins and needles sensation after a while, but it requires some time to desensitize.

With another bemused grin at the witch, Aidan orders a scotch as well, because it is his drink of choice. While waiting he focuses on Sean, "Why is that? I'm fully capable of using modern technology. I even have an iPhone and just got the new iPad."

"Oh please stay. You know that I'm not going to hurt you, though if the pair of you have some business," Aidan leans around and waves at one of the blondes, "I can amuse myself while you finish up."


There is a decided discomfort that hasn't abated since the vampire came into the bar; like Aidan, it simply takes a little time to acclimate to it and push it to the side so it's more of a constant discomfort running in the background rather than alarm klaxons ringing in his ear, deafening him.

Sean chuckles and pulls his half-filled mug of beer towards him and slides the papers away from him, those piles in organized 'messes'. "I don't doubt that. You're probably better at it than I am." But myths of vampires don't die easily.. "I don't have an iPad.." a complaint?

"But.. ah.. yes. Corrie, it's up to you. I'm not about to send you away." A little awkward, to be certain.. "And Aidan.. I'm pretty sure Charlie wouldn't be all that happy about you amusing yourself in his bar.."


"I am not adorable," Corrie mutters, feeling like slamming a fist into Aidan's smarmy face. She keeps her fists to herself though, tapping her fingers atop the bar. Highly irritated that Aidan would show up here. Now of all times. Really, life is hardly fair.

"Do I? I know the story you told, but I have no verification of it. Even if Gwendolyn Bishop existed, you've not given me proof of anything but a good story." And the fact that he apparently 'cared' for her ancestor.

"I don't have an iPad either, but I fail to see how that's relevant to anything. Rich playboys typically tend to have all the toys, Sean. Because they have sad little lives otherwise." A dig at Aidan? Rhys? Gideon? Who the bloody hell knows? Corrie certainly doesn't.

"I'll stay for now."


Aidan smiles politely to the bar tender when the drink is received. "Why? Your friend have some policy against flirting?" Beat. "Oh. You know, Sean, one of these days you really are going to have to give me the benefit of the doubt." Aidan lifts the glass and takes a drink. "Besides, I ate before leaving home."

Corrie's verbal attack takes the vampire by surprise, and he waits for her to finish her mini-tirade before fixing her with a decidedly exasperated frown. Biting back his immediate inquiry — which would be somewhere along the lines of 'Which personality am I addressing today?' — Aidan takse a breath and delivers a civil, "And here I thought we were actually moving past this, Corrie."

Really, he's done nothing other than come into the pub to talk to Sean.

Able to play the wounded party as well as he can the charming flirt, Aidan lifts his glass in a toast to Sean. "Clearly, I am not welcome. I'll be making new friends while the two of you talk."


"Never." Sean gives his response to the vampire's 'complaint', though it's said with a lingering smile from his earlier chuckle. He's not stupid, and he trusts vampires about as far as he can throw them. What self-respecting vampire would allow that?

Corrie's tirade takes Sean by surprise as well, his brows rising, and his head ducking in response. Blue eyes flicker towards Aidan again with her stream of consciousness, and raising a hand in an attempt to forestall her, he asks the vampire, "Can I hear the story, please?" He hadn't gotten it all from Corrie in his office, and little bits can actually pull facts and dates together. Sean returns to Corrie, his tones low, "If you don't mind."

The necromancer smiles tightly; misunderstood once again, but that's the story of his life. Vampire mythos declares that the undead cannot be photographed or recorded… but the 'recorded' part obviously is just that.. a myth. "It's okay, Corrie.. no one is starting a fight. Just.. it's okay."


"Oh, stop playing the victim, Aidan. It really doesn't suit you." Corrie orders another drink, and then turns to eye the vampire. "You may as well stay. Dr. Watson is going to verify part of the story for me. At least the truth in whether Gwendolyn Bishop actually existed as more than a figment of your imagination." Beat. "You did know I was going to verify it."

Rubbing a hand over her face, she shakes her head.

"I'll get my information and be on my way, then you can get your information and be on your way, and if you dare mention tequila, I may smash my glass over your head."

She allows her glance to fall on Sean for a moment, then sighs.

"I apologize, Aidan. You've as much right to be here as I do."


Aidan frowns at Corrie for a moment more before he pushes out another breath of exasperated air. He nods, settling more comfortably on his stool. "Apology accepted. I just never know what I'm going to get with you."

Another very long drink is taken from his glass and he waves a hand toward Corrie and Sean, though the words are really for Sean. Corrie did say she would be verifying, and he never though to question the with whom; frankly, Watson couldn't have been a better choice. "I'd actually rather not share the story again. I don't usually share it unless I'm not sober, and that way might lead to me singing karaoke tonight." Beat.

Pure innocence, and feigned confusion to top it. "Tequila? I have no idea what you're talking about, Corrie." Which means, at the very least, he's not going to order any or try that again. Tonight, anyway.


Sean looks between the witch and the vampire, and he can't help but think there's a whole lot going on underneath that he has no idea about. From a distance, they seem like.. a dysfunctional couple. A couple that would be perfect for reality programming.

If Corrie wants the information Sean's gained, the necromancer pulls the file that he'd begun to get for her and slides it over. "That's what I've gotten, and.. it's sourced." Every interview, every book, every notation in the local churches is cited, just in case Corrie wants to continue the search where he'd left off. "Cup of tea, though some might say my style of writing is.. dry."

It's to Aidan, then, that the necromancer turns once again, a hint of disappointment flickering behind those blue eyes. Stories from vampires, while it requires a tonne of salt, is helpful and gems are buried all over. "Drunk?" Sean's not entirely certain exactly how one makes a vampire drunk, other than the obvious plying a person with alcohol and drinking from them? "Tequila.. do I even want to know?"


"You never will know either. Challenges, remember?" Corrie actually smiles at the vampire then. Quite innocently. Until he mentions not knowing what she's talking about. Squirming on the stool, she clears her throat. "Probably for the best then. I'd hate to ruin one of Sean's friend's glasses. I'd feel obligated to pay the man, and he was nice enough to let my boys play a gig here before they were signed with Reese Entertainment Media."

The folder is taken and flipped open. Glanced through. Read thoroughly before she glances at the two men once more.

"You really don't, Dr. Watson. As to the story, it's his to tell, though I will say that it involved another vampire that was harassing my family generations ago, and one slightly spunky, slightly crazy witch that struck a deal with Aidan for protection."


Aidan gives a sly glance at Corrie, his mouth quirking in response to Sean's question. "Tequila…" He draws it out, just to get a reaction from the witch. Then a perfectly innocent, "Nothing much. Corrie was just rather impressed by my ability to drink an endless number of shots." Beat. "Yes, getting sotted is possible. Not easy, but it is possible." Aidan thinks it would be fun to spend an entire evening with Sean and watch as all his mythological knowledge of vampires is blown apart.

"Maybe we can talk about it sometime," Aidan says, with complete honesty. "I'd ask why you'd be interested, but it's the whole professor thing, isn't it?" Beat. "Though maybe if I told it again, someone might be more inclined to believe that I didn't fashion it all from my deranged delusions."


While Sean may know more than most mortals about vampires, which irks Erik no end, he doesn't know everything. Obviously. He lives and learns, and is more than willing to replace errors with facts. Never know when it will come in handy to pull one's fat from the fire.

"You can.." He looks.. considering, studying the vampire, looking for any indication that he's being put on. A half smile appears, lopsided, as he nods, his voice low. "Got it.."

It's to Corrie now that he turns, his voice remaining low, his brows rising. "Really? It is your great, great aunt, after all? But," Sean puts a hand on the paperwork he's brought for her. "That should fill in a few holes for you, and I'll ask," Sean's eyes flicker back to Aidan and back again, "those annoying little questions that popped into my head while checking the records." He smiles a little more broadly, his attention falling back on Aidan, his tones turning a bit sing-song, "Found you too.. just a mention, really.. nothing much.."


The mention of the word tequila has Corrie tensing. Especially when it's drawn out in that way. She very nearly excuses herself to go to the loo, but shrugs it off. "An entire bottle. An entire bottle of scotch, and quite nearly a second bottle of scotch as well," she points out dryly. "That would have killed a human liver."

She looks to the pages again and shakes her head. "Yes. Great, great, whatever aunt. We're descended from her sister Constance. But it's all here." And that could very well explain why Aidan didn't know of the relationship. Generations to go through, with the number of siblings in each? It'd be difficult to keep up with all of them.

"It at least verifies that there was a Gwendolyn Bishop at any rate. Not necessarily that she had dealings with Mr. Boyle, but…" She existed. That's one thing down.

Turning to Aidan, she quirks her brow. "I don't suppose you have anything of hers so that I could further verify?"


"Oh really?" Aidan perks up like a child who's just received parental praise. "You found me in your searches? References to some poor besotted maiden left heartbroken in my wake? Happened all the time." Beat, and the humor is replaced by something a bit more serious and curious. If Sean was researching Gwen and found Aidan … well, he's bloody curious to know what the context was. "You must share, Watson. You show me yours and I'll show you mine." Another beat. "There is a story I can tell, or perhaps collaborate what you found?"

A slow drink is taken from the scotch as Aidan hides his smirk at Corrie's not-so-subtle shifting and tensing; not so subtle when he's well aware of the reason why and he was actually trying to raise a reaction from her. "Mr. Boyle, Corrie? Are we back to such formality after the other night?" Devious smirk, and then, "I might have a few things of hers, actually, though I'm not sure what would convince you. Certainly you don't have a way to ascertain if a piece of jewelry belonged to her or not. Perhaps a letter? A journal?"

Pages torn from a grimoire? Aidan thinks, but doesn't offer the last.


"Oh, I'm not that easy, Aidan.." The first word is drawn out in amusement.

Sean finally reaches for the now properly room-temperatured lager, and cradles it in a single hand. "Oh, there was a Gwendolyn Bishop. An odd old bird, by all accounts. In her later years, it was observed that she grew a little more.. eccentric." He shifts the one hand with the beer to the side and opens a page of his findings. There is a page xeroxed, the type looking like it's from a 19th century tome. "Right there.. seems she thought that people were a bit too.. ungrateful for the things she did for people." It's only a couple of lines, a mention of examples of 'personalities' of the time, buried deeply. Sean must have basically scanned the entire book, looking for little gems.

He looks back at Aidan, straightening, his brows rising in askance. The other night? Uh huh.. "I.. think Corrie'll know as much as I do, if not a little more," the witch wasn't completely forthcoming with what she'd known about her relation, "so if you want to tell stories, some of what I've found might fill in those holes." And serve as a lie detector?

As for the jewelry? "All a person would be able to do is to date it back— if the item was made in the time period, that is."


"Unless there's an image of it. A painting, or an etching…" A drawing in a grimoire? Corrie would have to practically beg Rosalie to be able to access the older books again, and she's not sure she'll get them unless she explains everything, which will make things complicated.

"I can understand that. Sometimes we do things that upset the people we love, but we do it with good intentions." Such as signing contracts with sorcerers. Corrie can definitely understand that. She's quite certain mention of her will be removed from the grimoires given time, but she really can't dwell on that.

"Do you have a piece of her jewelry? Journals? Aidan, if those are missing pieces of my past… I'd love to see them." It's almost hopeful.


"Not a cheap date, then, Sean? My estimation of you has just gone up several notches." Aidan lifts his drink in a salute to the necromancer. He's very clearly amused by it all, blue eyes twinkling, and Aidan amused isn't a bad thing. He tends to be far less dangerous when he's entertained. Which bodes well for the two blondes who've been eyeing him since he entered - they're no longer on Aidan's radar and therefore likely to waken in their own beds and not be subject to the vampire's … attentions.

Then again, maybe not as a bit of the humor fades from his eyes as Sean's revelation. "Then you were looking in the wrong place, mate. That's not my Gwen." The sense of ownership and possession surrounding those last words is piercing and visceral, and bitter enough to leave a taste lingering in the air. "Gwendolyn Bishop died young."

And again, Corrie presents Aidan with an opportunity, though it takes Aidan a moment to reply as he mentally refocuses. "I have … something she wrote." He's watching Corrie carefully, his good humor mask back in place, eyes still shining, but there's a cool calculation beneath it all. He licks his lips, answering slowly and carefully. "It's in storage. I'd have to get it out." That's all the vampire says, feeding Corrie a bit of line to see what she does with it.


"Huh.." Sean looks.. disappointed. His brows crease as he considers and pulls the file closer to him again, "Let me see that.." It's easy to see how the scholar can immerse himself in the past; there's no word that could pull himself from the words on the page as he flips through, looking for whether or not he's gotten the wrong path on all his paperwork.

"I'll have to look back.. because, here.. see. This is definitely her birth recorded from the church. Parents. Dates.." He twists the page around for Aidan to look at. "See?" He points a finger at it, pulling the other pages of his research out. "Could your Gwen have been a sister, maybe?" It's not unheard of, though not common for siblings to carry the same name, just in case.

"I can't see where the trail turns.."


While she thinks about everything, Corrie starts to slide the folder over to Aidan so that he can peer through it. After all, if he's telling the truth, it's as much his past as it is hers. Strange to think of it like that, but truth regardless.

Sean intercepts it though, and she lets him have it.

"There's a baptismal certificate in there that would fit the time period. I'm guessing that most anything else would have been destroyed by the family." Frowning, she leans in against the bar.

"In storage? Do you…" Beat. "Do you think you could bring it to Flare when we meet with Mr. Owens?"

She listens to Sean, then turns a dark smile on Aidan. "Or maybe she lied to you about her name?"


Aidan reads the information that Sean has found. The date fits, for the time of Gwen's birth; it makes it right for her age when he met her. Aidan knows the church, because he chanced by it but obviously not on its grounds. "No, that would make her the proper age, and the parent's names are correct." He was pretending to court the young Miss Bishop after all, Aidan would be privy to such things.

"Time permitting," Aidan makes no promises. "It isn't as though it's in storage in my attic hope chest, after all."

Corrie's smile is met with an equally dark and challenging one and Aidan lightly chucks her under the chin with his index finger. "Corrie, luv, I called upon her. Repeatedly. Think I might have noticed something like that." Beat. "She was quite rather a bit too proud to do such a thing, anyway."


Sean shakes his head at Corrie's pronouncement, that impish glee that perhaps a member of her family had put one over on the vampire. He's not getting in the middle of those two; particularly when one pushes her luck.

"Right, ah.." Sean leans back in his seat slightly, looking first at Corrie, then at Aidan. He nods at the information; the confirmation of what he's found appreciated, if only acknowledged in a quiet grunt. "Right.. then.. here. We have communion records." Sean passes that over. "No notes from the priest, obviously.. but she's there." As far as sacraments go, there isn't anything left from the church records; no marriage, no death.. "Now, I have a couple primary sources, but mostly secondary, pulled from tertiary sources and followed back. Some of their citations were wrong, but some?"

Here, the necromancer smiles. "Gotcha in one. Just a line.. did you really have sheep?"



"I've not forgotten the tale, Mr. Boyle. Proud though she may have been, it doesn't mean that she couldn't have given you a deceased sister's name in order to keep herself safe." Names are rather powerful things after all.

"Regardless, if you've the time, I'd greatly appreciate it."

There's a glance behind the bar, and she orders herself a glass of water now. It's getting to the point where she's going to keep her wits about her.


Leaning dangerously close into Corrie's personal space, Aidan slides a fingertip along her cheek in a feathery light caress. His voice is low, though not so low that Sean and the bartender can't hear him, and filled with wicked debauchery. "I could tell you such stories about why she likely wouldn't have wanted me uttering a sister's name."

Beat, and Aidan straightens, turning back to Sean with a relaxed ease. He leans an elbow on the bar, his brows rising with curiosity as the other man tells him what he found. There's a beat and then, "Sheep?!"


Sean's brows rise and he leans backwards. He's warned Corrie over and over about vampires; even the last time they spoke in his office.

His smile remains, though it's shifted to a little more tightlipped. "Yes. Sheep. As in.. wool. Meat.. and.. trade." He whistles softly, his attention shifts towards the page and clears his throat before pointing to a passage in a secondary source that cites a primary. Something about some of the richer men in the town… and sheep.



Just as Aidan is straightening up, Corrie's hand snakes out to attempt slapping him across the face. "You may have had a…" She has difficulty spitting out the next word, struggling with it quite a bit. "… relationship with my ancestor, but I really don't need the sordid details."

She's every intention of hopping off her stool and just seeing to her tab before leaving, when she notes what Sean's pointing to. Her brow raises a little and she says, "Thank you, Dr. Watson. I do appreciate the help. I owe you."


Corrie, Aidan decides, is far too easy. It's really getting to be like taking candy from a baby. His vampire reflexes allow him to easily dodge the predictable attempted slap, and he knows that the amused smile he wears probably does little to alleviate her offense.

Focusing instead, he looks to what Sean is pointing at and his brows knit. "No, I technically didn't have sheep. My 'uncle' did," and there are air quotes heard around the word 'uncle,' "And I had been sent up by my dying father to take over my childless uncle's business. I was mostly involved in the wool and textile exports." It's a quick glimpse into the vampire, and the number of times he's changed and reinvented himself over the years.

Rolling his attention back to Corrie, Aidan gives her a slight shake of his head, tones almost bored. "You need to learn to relax, Kavanaugh. You're far more fun when you're in your cups, by the way."


Sean shifts in his seat, away from the attempted blow to the vampire's face. He knows that it won't make contact unless the no-longer-quite-alive man wants it to.. and obviously, he doesn't care to. He grimaces at Corrie's 'attack' and shakes his head. Nothing he can do…

"Uh huh.." Sean believes the vampire, actually. It just amuses him that of many things, he picked.. sheep. Not a tinker, not an itenerant wanderer with a mysterious past, or even a supposed 'king's man'. The necromancer would have thought it'd be more exciting?

Sean passes the information back to Corrie in a slight push of papers, and he nods. "My pleasure, Corrie. Let me know if you need—"

Oh jeez..


Oh, but she really would have loved to hit him. To knock that smirk off of his face. Corrie clenches her fists and reaches into her handbag to drop enough cash on the bar to cover her drinks.

"Am I? Good to know. I'll ensure that I'm rather boring around you from now on."

She actually goes so far as to turn her back on Aidan and pretend he doesn't exist now, so that she can talk to Sean. "I will, Dr. Watson. I trust that we can keep this between the two of us?" As in, 'please don't tell her sister'. Jean will never let her live it down if she knew all the trouble Corrie's currently in.


There's no problem and no offense taken when Corrie turns her attention to Sean. He's done playing that particular musical instrument tonight, though he wonders why the red head witch cannot see how easily she played into his hands. Yes, he's got her measure, and he's quite enjoying himself with her. Finishing his scotch, he signals the bar tender and indicates that he'd like another.


"Between the two of us.." is repeated, his brows rising as he flickers his gaze over towards Aidan. "You do realize that he's a really good source, considering…" and he lets his voice just taper off. Sean shakes his head once and offers a half-shrug, "Okay.."

You heard the woman, Aidan..

Sean exhales and finally takes a swallow of his room-temperature lager, and enjoys it. He's learned that Charlie does serve his beer cold.. and there's nothing to do for it but to just.. wait it out. He's become somewhat patient. Mostly. Somewhat.

Lowering his voice, though he's perfectly aware that he's easily heard by Aidan, due to the vampire's enhanced senses, his words are for Corrie. "You do realize that being boring to a vampire is worse than being interesting.. right? Particularly when you've made your presence known.." But.. what does he know? Straightening again, he finishes the liquid in his glass and sets it back onto the counter top.


"I'm well aware," Corrie replies to Sean, adding a little money to cover his drink as well.

"Except that Mr. Boyle won't kill me. He's got a centuries old promise to uphold, and that's all that really matters to me now."

Sliding off the stool, she turns to Aidan with a smile. "I'll see you at dinner tomorrow. Don't forget your promise to be there."


"I never forget a promise, luv," Aidan calls pleasantly after her, simply to watch her tense. No, that never gets old.

As the woman takes her leave, Aidan lowers his voice conspiratorially to Sean, "My promise is actually to protect Gwen's family from other vampires. She wasn't quite specific enough to include a suggestion that they should be protected from me." It's the fine print that Aidan didn't share with Corrie. "Amazing how a word or two here or there can change an entire meaning of something, isn't it?"

It's a fifty-fifty shot that Sean will tell Corrie, or he won't. Aidan doesn't care one way or another. He's still not entirely convinced that he wouldn't be better off washing his hands entirely of her. Or pointing out that there are far worse things he can do to Corrie that don't involve killing her at all; that don't involve physically laying a hand on her.

Aidan rolls his eyes and shrugs it off with a typical bored air, "Don't worry, Sean. I'm not interested in killing Corrie. She amuses me. Even when she's trying to piss me off… or succeeding."


"I wouldn't rely on that.." The words are muttered softly, not truly meant to be heard by anyone.

Sean's brows rise at the paying for his drink, "Oh.. you didn't have to—" but it's appreciated. Mostly by Charlie.

"Take care, Corrie," is offered as a farewell before he turns back to Aidan.

"Yeah.. see.. even if there was fine print, not willing to stake my life on something like that." There's always a loophole. Though, when confirmation is given, there is the thought that perhaps Corrie should know.. but would it make the witch treat the vampire any differently? Probably not, given what he's seen before any knowledge was had about the ancestor. "Yes.. I thought as much. Always have to be careful. Same in my line of work."

Sean exhales in a sigh, his head shaking again. "The patience of a saint." Beat. "Which, I might add, is a little odd in my head.."


"She's actually rather hot when she's being fiesty," Aidan remarks, his eyes trailing Corrie so intently as she walks away that it's amazing she doesn't feel his gaze peeling away at her. "To a point, of course. After a while, it gets tedious." But the witchling runs hot and cold and there is something about that which just provides endless amusement and intrigue for Aidan. For now.

"Compared to most, I'm not all that patient," Aidan admits, "But it's relative." Because Aidan does tend to get bored and lose patience quickly, though what amounts to quickly for him is a relatively long time for a human - five years, ten years; time really is relative when you have an endless supply of it.

He cocks his head, turning serious now and takes another drink of the scotch. "Were you able to make heads or tails of it?"


Sean shakes his head as he follows Aidan's gaze on Corrie's departure. He takes a deep breath, and with a sharp exhale, uses it to mark the end of one subject and the start of a new. Ish.

Twisting around in his seat, his head rises and falls once, slowly, his expression taking on a slightly more serious mien. "Yeah.." The word is drawn out. "About that..

"Did I happen to mention 'saint'?"

The necromancer pulls another small folder from the bottom of his pages. "If it weren't for the fact that there was something of a biographer taking.. perfunctory notes, I'd swear this would read like a police report on Jeffrey Dahmer." Sean grimaces, no touch of amusement anywhere on his face. "Only in comparison, Dahmer was a piker."

He opens the folder, and there is a translation penciled in above the words, and historical and socio-political notes in the margins, more for his use than the vampire's, but it gives something of a reference for the reader.

"For this one, I slept with the lights on for a day or so." Sean isn't the least bit embarrassed to admit it, and he's deathly serious when he says it. He's very much aware of things that go bump in the night, and he's got a keen respect for them. Just as he's pretty certain those creatures also have something of a respect for him.


"If you'd like, I can go over them.. but I'd rather do that in my office than here?"


There's not even the flicker of feigned surprise on Aidan's face. Oh yes, he'll pretend quite well that he didn't read the words, and couldn't make sense of the language, but there were parts of the journal that it came from written in languages he could understand.

Aidan knows full well what his brother is capable of, and how even Seamus being benign leaves humans (and a few vampires) quivering in fear.

Finishing off the glass of scotch, Aidan nods and reaches for his billfold to pay his bill. "Why don't we do that then?"


Sean's drink has already been paid for, courtesy of Corrie, and pulling his not-yet-graded term papers over towards him, he picks them up and tucks them under his arm. Aidan obviously wants to continue this, and so he's got to ready himself for more of .. that which he's read in that journal. He's still not all that certain as to whose journal, or rather, who the biographer was, but it could have been human— even if it was human once.

Sliding off his seat, the necromancer nods to the bartender, and offers a tight-lipped smile, adding, "Back to the office.." before he heads out. That should keep Charlie and Alex happy; at least he's leaving word as to where he is. Even if he's with a vampire.

"Why do I get the feeling you're not surprised.." is given over his shoulder as he heads for the door.


Aidan leaves a generous tip, if only to show that he does have some social niceties. He doesn't expect it to make the necromancer trust him, but it might at least pave the road to good humor.

Sliding off his stool, he follows Sean toward the exit of the bar. The question makes him slow his pace a bit, as Aidan debates how much to give away. Finally he settles for, "That's only part of the journal. I can read some of it … let's just say I'm acquainted with the subject." There's a definite taint of bitterness and disapproval on the word 'acquainted.'


There really isn't anything that the vampire could do to make the necromancer trust him. Just as he's pretty sure that the vampire will never trust the necromancer. Opposite sides, as it were, and Sean's personality is miles away from Aidan's own. All that can be hoped for, and attained, is something of a friendly cease fire. If it ever came down to it, Sean is certain the vampire would have no qualms about attempting to kill him, and he, in turn, would have no qualms about tearing the demon from the already lifeless yet animated body.

Sean stops at the door, his hand on it, ready to push it open, and looks back at Aidan and nods slowly, taking in the intonation and the potential meanings behind it. It's going to be an all-nighter, he can feel it.

"Yes, I thought you might. There's a sentence in there that sort of describes you." He smiles tightly, his lips thin, though his tones lighten just a little. "No mention of sheep. I swear."


It's true, Aidan would have no qualms about killing the necromancer, if it's necessary. Truly, at this point in time, Watson is useful, and clearly Erik wants an eye kept on the man. It's not to say that Aidan doesn't like random kills, but not to those humans who have a purpose, be it entertainment, blood or usefulness. Wholesale farming doesn't really help him in anyway.

"Thank God," Aidan drawls. "Because that sheep thing is really troublesome. I'm Irish, yeah?"


"Not even a mention of an illegal sibin (shebeen). I was a little disappointed. But, I might find it if I look in different places." Of course the illegal pubs have to be run by vampires. Only makes sense, right?

Sean pushes on the door and is greeted with the evening London spring air. Tourists don't wander into this particular area as a rule, so the pedestrian traffic isn't as busy as in other sections. Holding it open, he waits for his companion to exit before settling his papers under his arm and taking a step away from the door. "Underground?" He smiles tightly, "I really hope people don't start talking. Send off the pretty girl and leave with a guy?" Won't do for his reputation, or lack thereof. "I'll never hear the end of it."


"Of course they're not mentioned," Aidan remarks casually. "When you're in the know, you just know where to find them. Word of mouth, secret pass phrases." Not that Aidan is admitting to anything, like the fact that he both visited a good few back in the day, and might have been part propietor in at least one. His hand has dipped in many pools over the years. He's also not eluding to the fact that they still exist, in a manner of speaking, but the drink being peddled is usually a lot more crimson in color and coppery in taste, often straight from the tap.

The vampire gives a glance up and down the street as the pair steps onto the sidewalk. The area is not heavily trafficked, but it doesn't stop him from watching with admiration as a pair of women stroll past them to go into the pub they've only just exited. He doesn't really have to put that much effort into being the womanizing playboy; it comes quite naturally.

"Underground," Aidan agrees. "But the pretty lady is a bit frigid, and we're both such good-looking blokes that all the ladies will have fantasy fodder for weeks."


"First rule about the Fight Club.." Sean agrees easily. Being outside feels a little less.. confining. Granted, there's more opportunity for the random ghost to send that special little shiver up his spine, but so far, he's been pretty lucky as far as that goes. One of the good things about London; violent crime isn't anywhere near the levels of other cities. And by 'violent', Sean measures that with 'murder'. There are older ghosts, sure.. just not in this area. (He avoids the Tower like the plague.)

Nodding in the direction, then, they're to go, Sean begins to lead the way. He casts his head sideways in askance, his brows rising in echo of his tone, "They really do? About guys?" He whistles softly. "I wouldn't have thought that.. unless they're hoping to 'cure' one or the other."


"The creative, fun ones who don't have hang ups do." Beat. "Though they usually throw themselves in the fantasy somewhere." The vampire is wearing his trademark smirk, which makes it somewhat difficult to tell whether or not he's actually serious. Given his years and varied appetites, it's probably a safe bet that it's not something he's making up; how far it applies to the general populace is a point to be debated.

Aidan slides a glance toward Sean, "I can give you a few names and numbers if you're looking …"


Sean's willing to bet there's a lot of truth hanging in those words; truth borne of experience. As such, he shakes his head, a slightly lopsided smile gracing his face as he does so. "No, that's okay. Really. I try not to take women after other people I know have.." Dated them? Sucked their life blood? "..stepped out with them." How polite and old fashioned?

"That little black book of yours must really be something, though."

Sean's guiding path leads the pair to the closest Underground station, and without hesitation, the necromancer takes the stairs down. He's done this route over and over.. and over. "University's about 15 minutes away." He's timed it.. and has used that 15 minutes to keep from going nuts when his friend says or does something that just sends him up.. like last time. "I have the keys to my building.. No one'll be there, I'm sure."

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