[ the molten mess is hot, and he's happy to not be touching it anymore, his fingers feeling strangely violated by the interaction. ohio's still breathing, though worse for wear, and embry stays on his knees, looking up with a healthy amount of distrust at johanna, and maybe a little bit of awe at how she handles the whole thing.
he's attended enough mass with ash over the years to know scripture and other holy things to remind him of just how unholy he is, so the words she utters are familiar. painfully so, actually, because he's heard ash recite them a dozen times, has stood by his side and listened not out of conviction but just because he always listens when it's ash's voice. he puts the thought out of his mind, mostly unsuccessfully as it usually is, and strips off his blazer, examining his slightly singed cuffs. ]
That doesn't look like it's gonna hold. But you also don't seem like an amateur.
[ internally, he has a hundred other questions, like is that the fucking devil and why's his name vade, but he also has an unconscious senator to his left. ]
Ought to keep until we figure out our story for him. [ She jerks her head towards Ohio. ] I'll get a proper seal on it in a second.
[ She needs a second to catch her breath. And to process that distrust in Embry's eyes -- to feel it sting and then shove it aside. She's had the yes, magic is real, yes, I do it, conversation half a dozen times, at least, but this isn't how she would have chosen to do it.
Hell, she didn't really intend to ever have this talk with the White House. American politicians have slightly less baggage than the British royals, but they have their own complications, to say the least. ]
When was I going to bring up my day job at Lyonesse? My mouth's usually busy. "Consultant" always covers it in these parts.
[ because embry believes in being an equal opportunity sort of man when it comes to trouble-making — even if he didn't actually choose to engage this time — he turns to the senator, giving him a quick once-over. he's not even that great of a senator. ]
I'll handle him. [ he rummages through his jacket before finding what he's looking for — a silver flask — and unscrews the top, splashing whiskey liberally all over ohio. then he unties him and dumps his unconscious body to the floor. ] There. He had too much to drink and they'll find him sleeping off his bad decisions. His politics are shit, anyway.
[ he rolls up his sleeves and gets to his feet, brushing his trousers off. his knees have been on a lot of dirty floors, but this is a bit much. ]
Here. [ he swings his blazer over her shoulders to hide her torn sleeve. ] Consultant? Who's paying you, the Catholic church?
[ Thank fuck. That was more or less going to be her suggested plan, although she was thinking maybe cocaine. ]
Start-ups, club owners, political committees. [ She shrugs, tucking the demon bottle under her arm again. ] Anyone who's got the money and a problem that needs a bit of magic to solve.
I swear, though, I had no idea there was a demon on board when you invited me. I'd like to know who did.
[ don't worry, he has easy access to that, too. just in case. ]
So you actually just wanted to get on a yacht with me. [ it's not exactly a hardship to be here, after all. embry is well aware he lives an extremely privileged life, despite his reckless and self-sabotaging behavior that he'd rather not think about. ] This place is full of Washington goons. I'd be surprised if there aren't more demons.
[ a beat. ]
I'm not drunk enough for this. [ he holds out his hand. ] Can we please get out of the closet? Don't say what you're thinking.
[ her hand is warm in his, maybe from the wriggling black mess in the bottle, but he squeezes her fingers as he thinks, suddenly remembering what's on the other side of the door. his civic duty, among other things. ]
We can fool everyone out there. [ he shrugs, keeping his voice casual. ] Just not Ash. He'll know we're faking. Not that it matters, because he doesn't give a shit who I fuck. But he always knows if it's real or not.
[ Probably she should tell the president that there was a demon on his boat, because probably the demon had something to do with him in some way. They don't just turn up around heads of state for giggles. ]
Get me to a private room without getting black-bagged by the CIA, and then we can figure out the rest.
[ maybe to her ash is a separate problem, but to embry their separation is the problem — he's the rust to ash's metal, now corrosive and unwanted, and he doesn't know where he stands or what he is when once upon a time he believed he was the only one who could give ash what he needed. what a load of shit.
that's not really their current problem, though. just embry's eternal one. their actual problem, embry assumes, has something to do with the demon and the most important person on the yacht. two things that are probably very connected.
more pressing than that is that they're still in this goddamn closet. ]
With pleasure. [ it won't look suspicious in the least for embry to lead his date to one of the private rooms toward the starboard side of the yacht. his known promiscuity comes in handy here, and no one bothers them as they sneak out of the closet and weave their way through the crowd. embry picks up a room card from an attendant and swipes them in, and soon they're safely behind closed doors, away from prying eyes — though he'd seen ash and greer both, their eyes following him and johanna, probably disappointed in his behavior per fucking usual.
he tosses the card on the table, the room small but decorated with unnecessary wealth, as things tend to be on a yacht. embry goes straight for the sampling of bottled spirits waiting on the table. ]
There's gin. [ and he can drink it straight from the bottle, which he does, loosening his tie and plopping onto the edge of the bed. ] What're you gonna do with your little friend?
[ he gestures to the wriggling mass in johanna's less desirable bottle. ]
[ Johanna puts on a pretty convincing show of "date who is wearing the VP's blazer because maybe she's a little unclothed underneath, teehee" as they wend through the party. If Ash and Greer give them any looks, she's oblivious to them.
Inside the private room, finally, her embarrassed smile falls away and she's back to professionalism. She shrugs off the blazer and tosses it onto the bed next to Embry. ]
Seal it up better. [ Exhaling, she flops down onto the floor, cross-legged, and pulls out her phone to flick through her photos. When she finds what she's looking for, she starts copying the seal onto the neck of the bottle. ] And then -- I don't know, how far out from land are we? Ah, no, shit, it wouldn't sink anyway. [ She taps the bottle sharply; the thing inside shudders. ] Too much air in there.
[ at first he thinks she's asking because she wants to vacate the yacht as soon as she possibly can — but no, she just wants to see if she can dump her friend into the sea. neither option seems wise, at least to him. he stands up to snag two glasses, because he can at least pretend to have some decency, and joins her on the floor, pouring her a drink and holding it out for her to take. ]
I have a lot of questions. [ he takes a hefty swallow, then leans back on his hands, trying to put the thought of the growling senator out of his mind. ] I just don't know if I want to ask any of them right now. Or ever. I owe you a new dress.
[ Sighing, she puts the last touch on the seal. There's no flash of light or anything, but there is a faint sense that the bottle is -- quieter? -- when she puts it aside and takes the gin. ]
Should I take a guess at some of them?
I'm a professional occultist. [ She starts ticking them off on her fingers as she speaks. ] Do a lot of exorcisms of demons and ghosts and ghoulies. That's a demon, a little one. Magic is real but it's all loads weirder than you probably think.
[ those were some of his questions, yes, though it still doesn't really scratch the surface of how he's supposed to feel about all of this. she's remarkably calm, so he supposes it can't be a bad decision to mimic that. ]
Pretty bad, actually. [ he sneaks a hand out, teasing at her torn sleeve so the fabric droops sadly down her shoulder. ] Because you didn't share your dress preferences.
[ a beat, and then a little quieter, still casual — ] Should I be scared?
You could just take me for all I'm worth. [ extremely bold words when he's worth exactly nothing, aside from his substantial familial wealth that he did absolutely nothing to earn.
is he scared? he should be. but the universe growing ever larger doesn't make him feel any smaller when he's already spent years looking at the night sky and realizing just how insignificant he is. he used to wish that he didn't exist at all, so — nothing's changed, really. ]
Sometimes I wake up and I don't know where I am. [ he shrugs, his fingers wrapped loosely around his glass where it rests on the carpet, his other hand still fiddling with the stray threads of her sleeve, pulling at them to unravel the tear further. ] Unless you tell me there's a demon out there gunning for my ass, I don't think any of this makes my life that much worse.
[ his brow furrows then, momentary graveness flickering over his features. ] Do you think something's after Ash? He's the important one, after all.
[ Johanna watches him, her head tipped a little to one side. She knows that Embry struggles. The whole shape of that struggle, she may not know -- though many of the contours are shaped like Ash Colchester -- but she also tends to think he can handle it. She wouldn't have kept talking to him after meeting him at Lyonesse, nor enjoy his company half as much, if she didn't. ]
Seems likely. Probably a human, honestly, trying to get a leg up with a little help from Hell. Infernal politics are complicated, I'm not going to pretend I know shit about that, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind having some kind of hold over a superpower.
[ She reaches out a hand, cool from where it's been wrapped around the gin, and brushes a stray hair off his forehead. ]
[ that's when he feels it, the fear that should have been present all along, though not for his own safety, but for ash's. that there could be some nefarious power out there trying to topple one of the only good men left in this world, after he's sacrificed every scrap of his own happiness to protect ash's career and all the good that will come out of it — it's a wholly destabilizing thought.
if something happened to ash, he'd burn the whole country down. it would be the exact opposite of what ash would ever want, and that's precisely why he's not the fucking president. ]
It wouldn't matter. We'd never recover from the first loss. [ he wraps his hand around her wrist when she brushes his hair, his thumb resting against her pulse. ] Johanna, if you think Ash is in danger, if there's even a chance — you have to stay. I'll hire you. You said anyone with money and a problem, right? I've got both.
[ he needs her to say yes. it's only just struck him the danger they're in, and though a part of him prickles with an inconvenient excitement — the part of him that ash always said had a death wish — the rest of him doesn't want ash caught up in it at all.
already having snagged her by the wrist, he pulls her closer, their mouths abruptly only mere breaths apart. ]
I'll sweeten the deal — [ if she considers this a bonus, anyway. ] And throw myself in.
[ Her breath catches in shock -- and a pulse of excitement -- when he tugs her in. ]
Embry--
[ It's surprisingly hard not to kiss him. But she puts a hand on his chest, holds him back. ]
Fucking hell, you're not pimping yourself out to get an exorcist on call. Jesus! I'll find you someone when we're back on land, some Georgetown Jesuit or something.
[ She has a bad feeling, though, so close to his lips, that that offer won't sway him, and an equally bad feeling that he's going to talk her into it. God, two hours ago she was swanning onto a yacht to cause a little harmless gossip. ]
[ he could kiss her, and he wants to, equal parts because he wants to convince her, and well. she's pretty and he wants to. he's never needed that much persuasion to swan into someone's lap. ]
Some old priest cannot be seen suddenly flocking around the president at random events, Johanna.
[ this is america?? his family might be hypocritically republican, but he's not that desperate to affiliate himself. ]
It has to be you, because I can be your cover. No one would bat an eye, because they're used to me being — [ he waffles over the words, reluctant. ] Rankly promiscuous.
[ Her fingers flex against his chest, sliding over the fabric of his shirt. The way he says rankly promiscuous makes her wonder if it's something he's been called -- if it's something that bothers him. ]
You want to pretend we're fucking so I can do magic for the president.
[ Oh, no. She takes a deep breath. ]
I want you to know I wouldn't do this for the queen. And she did ask before she kicked it.
[ it never used to bother him, and it's always been true. it only started to rankle after — everything. after letting ash go and realizing that was his role. ]
It would be preferable to my staff if we pretended we were dating, actually. Not just fucking.
[ this seems both promising and not, somehow at once. he leans into her touch, letting go of her wrist only so he can trace his hand down her arm, feather light. ]
I'm not the queen. I don't have a hundred incredibly irresistible dogs that'll flock to my dead body in the event of a demon killing me.
Fine. Fine, until I can figure out who's got it out for your administration. That's only, what, fifty percent of the country or something?
[ Sighing, she lifts a hand to straighten the collar of his shirt. How does this always happen? She makes a sensible decision like "don't work for royals" and yet. ]
So are we going to be fucking while we pretend to be dating, or ... ?
[ hey, at least he's not actually an inbred royal. he's just rich and happens to be holding office, the true american way. ]
And that depends on you.
[ his fingers snag on her torn dress again, gripping the fabric and giving a sharp tug, threads snapping as the tear widens, her sleeve slipping down her bare shoulder. he leans in, his lips ghosting along her collarbone. ]
Though if you want my input, it would definitely sell the act better.
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no subject
he's attended enough mass with ash over the years to know scripture and other holy things to remind him of just how unholy he is, so the words she utters are familiar. painfully so, actually, because he's heard ash recite them a dozen times, has stood by his side and listened not out of conviction but just because he always listens when it's ash's voice. he puts the thought out of his mind, mostly unsuccessfully as it usually is, and strips off his blazer, examining his slightly singed cuffs. ]
That doesn't look like it's gonna hold. But you also don't seem like an amateur.
[ internally, he has a hundred other questions, like is that the fucking devil and why's his name vade, but he also has an unconscious senator to his left. ]
You didn't mention any of this at Lyonesse.
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[ She needs a second to catch her breath. And to process that distrust in Embry's eyes -- to feel it sting and then shove it aside. She's had the yes, magic is real, yes, I do it, conversation half a dozen times, at least, but this isn't how she would have chosen to do it.
Hell, she didn't really intend to ever have this talk with the White House. American politicians have slightly less baggage than the British royals, but they have their own complications, to say the least. ]
When was I going to bring up my day job at Lyonesse? My mouth's usually busy. "Consultant" always covers it in these parts.
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I'll handle him. [ he rummages through his jacket before finding what he's looking for — a silver flask — and unscrews the top, splashing whiskey liberally all over ohio. then he unties him and dumps his unconscious body to the floor. ] There. He had too much to drink and they'll find him sleeping off his bad decisions. His politics are shit, anyway.
[ he rolls up his sleeves and gets to his feet, brushing his trousers off. his knees have been on a lot of dirty floors, but this is a bit much. ]
Here. [ he swings his blazer over her shoulders to hide her torn sleeve. ] Consultant? Who's paying you, the Catholic church?
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Start-ups, club owners, political committees. [ She shrugs, tucking the demon bottle under her arm again. ] Anyone who's got the money and a problem that needs a bit of magic to solve.
I swear, though, I had no idea there was a demon on board when you invited me. I'd like to know who did.
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So you actually just wanted to get on a yacht with me. [ it's not exactly a hardship to be here, after all. embry is well aware he lives an extremely privileged life, despite his reckless and self-sabotaging behavior that he'd rather not think about. ] This place is full of Washington goons. I'd be surprised if there aren't more demons.
[ a beat. ]
I'm not drunk enough for this. [ he holds out his hand. ] Can we please get out of the closet? Don't say what you're thinking.
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[ She really was!
She takes his hand. ] You're ahead of me. Want to act like we've been hooking up or leave well enough alone?
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[ her hand is warm in his, maybe from the wriggling black mess in the bottle, but he squeezes her fingers as he thinks, suddenly remembering what's on the other side of the door. his civic duty, among other things. ]
We can fool everyone out there. [ he shrugs, keeping his voice casual. ] Just not Ash. He'll know we're faking. Not that it matters, because he doesn't give a shit who I fuck. But he always knows if it's real or not.
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[ Probably she should tell the president that there was a demon on his boat, because probably the demon had something to do with him in some way. They don't just turn up around heads of state for giggles. ]
Get me to a private room without getting black-bagged by the CIA, and then we can figure out the rest.
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that's not really their current problem, though. just embry's eternal one. their actual problem, embry assumes, has something to do with the demon and the most important person on the yacht. two things that are probably very connected.
more pressing than that is that they're still in this goddamn closet. ]
With pleasure. [ it won't look suspicious in the least for embry to lead his date to one of the private rooms toward the starboard side of the yacht. his known promiscuity comes in handy here, and no one bothers them as they sneak out of the closet and weave their way through the crowd. embry picks up a room card from an attendant and swipes them in, and soon they're safely behind closed doors, away from prying eyes — though he'd seen ash and greer both, their eyes following him and johanna, probably disappointed in his behavior per fucking usual.
he tosses the card on the table, the room small but decorated with unnecessary wealth, as things tend to be on a yacht. embry goes straight for the sampling of bottled spirits waiting on the table. ]
There's gin. [ and he can drink it straight from the bottle, which he does, loosening his tie and plopping onto the edge of the bed. ] What're you gonna do with your little friend?
[ he gestures to the wriggling mass in johanna's less desirable bottle. ]
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Inside the private room, finally, her embarrassed smile falls away and she's back to professionalism. She shrugs off the blazer and tosses it onto the bed next to Embry. ]
Seal it up better. [ Exhaling, she flops down onto the floor, cross-legged, and pulls out her phone to flick through her photos. When she finds what she's looking for, she starts copying the seal onto the neck of the bottle. ] And then -- I don't know, how far out from land are we? Ah, no, shit, it wouldn't sink anyway. [ She taps the bottle sharply; the thing inside shudders. ] Too much air in there.
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I have a lot of questions. [ he takes a hefty swallow, then leans back on his hands, trying to put the thought of the growling senator out of his mind. ] I just don't know if I want to ask any of them right now. Or ever. I owe you a new dress.
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Should I take a guess at some of them?
I'm a professional occultist. [ She starts ticking them off on her fingers as she speaks. ] Do a lot of exorcisms of demons and ghosts and ghoulies. That's a demon, a little one. Magic is real but it's all loads weirder than you probably think.
[ A rueful shrug. ] How'd I do?
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Pretty bad, actually. [ he sneaks a hand out, teasing at her torn sleeve so the fabric droops sadly down her shoulder. ] Because you didn't share your dress preferences.
[ a beat, and then a little quieter, still casual — ] Should I be scared?
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[ She gives him a wry smile over her gin. ]
Should you be scared. Aren't you already?
[ Isn't the universe vast and uncaring, unknowable and terrifying, Embry? Does knowing there's demons make it that much scarier?
Anyway in case he was ever wondering why she's single it's shit like that answer, among other maladaptive coping mechanisms. ]
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is he scared? he should be. but the universe growing ever larger doesn't make him feel any smaller when he's already spent years looking at the night sky and realizing just how insignificant he is. he used to wish that he didn't exist at all, so — nothing's changed, really. ]
Sometimes I wake up and I don't know where I am. [ he shrugs, his fingers wrapped loosely around his glass where it rests on the carpet, his other hand still fiddling with the stray threads of her sleeve, pulling at them to unravel the tear further. ] Unless you tell me there's a demon out there gunning for my ass, I don't think any of this makes my life that much worse.
[ his brow furrows then, momentary graveness flickering over his features. ] Do you think something's after Ash? He's the important one, after all.
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Seems likely. Probably a human, honestly, trying to get a leg up with a little help from Hell. Infernal politics are complicated, I'm not going to pretend I know shit about that, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind having some kind of hold over a superpower.
[ She reaches out a hand, cool from where it's been wrapped around the gin, and brushes a stray hair off his forehead. ]
If something happened to him, you'd be next.
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if something happened to ash, he'd burn the whole country down. it would be the exact opposite of what ash would ever want, and that's precisely why he's not the fucking president. ]
It wouldn't matter. We'd never recover from the first loss. [ he wraps his hand around her wrist when she brushes his hair, his thumb resting against her pulse. ] Johanna, if you think Ash is in danger, if there's even a chance — you have to stay. I'll hire you. You said anyone with money and a problem, right? I've got both.
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And then realizes he's not laughing. ]
Oh, Christ, walked into that one, didn't I?
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already having snagged her by the wrist, he pulls her closer, their mouths abruptly only mere breaths apart. ]
I'll sweeten the deal — [ if she considers this a bonus, anyway. ] And throw myself in.
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Embry--
[ It's surprisingly hard not to kiss him. But she puts a hand on his chest, holds him back. ]
Fucking hell, you're not pimping yourself out to get an exorcist on call. Jesus! I'll find you someone when we're back on land, some Georgetown Jesuit or something.
[ She has a bad feeling, though, so close to his lips, that that offer won't sway him, and an equally bad feeling that he's going to talk her into it. God, two hours ago she was swanning onto a yacht to cause a little harmless gossip. ]
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Some old priest cannot be seen suddenly flocking around the president at random events, Johanna.
[ this is america?? his family might be hypocritically republican, but he's not that desperate to affiliate himself. ]
It has to be you, because I can be your cover. No one would bat an eye, because they're used to me being — [ he waffles over the words, reluctant. ] Rankly promiscuous.
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You want to pretend we're fucking so I can do magic for the president.
[ Oh, no. She takes a deep breath. ]
I want you to know I wouldn't do this for the queen. And she did ask before she kicked it.
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It would be preferable to my staff if we pretended we were dating, actually. Not just fucking.
[ this seems both promising and not, somehow at once. he leans into her touch, letting go of her wrist only so he can trace his hand down her arm, feather light. ]
I'm not the queen. I don't have a hundred incredibly irresistible dogs that'll flock to my dead body in the event of a demon killing me.
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Fine. Fine, until I can figure out who's got it out for your administration. That's only, what, fifty percent of the country or something?
[ Sighing, she lifts a hand to straighten the collar of his shirt. How does this always happen? She makes a sensible decision like "don't work for royals" and yet. ]
So are we going to be fucking while we pretend to be dating, or ... ?
im sry about my slowness work has ended me
[ hey, at least he's not actually an inbred royal. he's just rich and happens to be holding office, the true american way. ]
And that depends on you.
[ his fingers snag on her torn dress again, gripping the fabric and giving a sharp tug, threads snapping as the tear widens, her sleeve slipping down her bare shoulder. he leans in, his lips ghosting along her collarbone. ]
Though if you want my input, it would definitely sell the act better.
omg no worries! very happy to backtag