[OTA] Business Not As Usual

[wherethewild]

Now that the snow's stopped, it's mostly just...like winter in London, really. Dreary, cold, gray. London never gets this much snow, of course, but otherwise it's a bit like home, and when Peter emerges from his hole in the basement of Diamond Castle, he's dressed for the weather in a wool peacoat, a scarf, and a hat over his hair. Add in the messenger bag draped over his shoulder, and it looks like he's dressed for a day of protecting the free world at Thames House.

He only wishes. At least what he's doing is interesting, or at least more so than fixing the internet connections of clueless Diamonds. Possibly it's even marginally dangerous, considering how the last Spade challenge went. He wouldn't have to do it, he thinks, if the Spades hadn't used quite so many ridiculous security protocols. It's legions more robust than any of the other Suits; he'd broken through the Clubs systems (well, most of them, the Royal files had a curiously complex system around them) and the Hearts, too, without much effort.

Bloody Spades.

It's not such a big deal, though. He's examined the system from every angle he can from outside it, and he's pretty sure it can be cracked if he's in it. So off to the Castle of blood and knives. If anyone asks, he can say he's visiting friends.

Might as well use his not terrible social interaction for good, after all.

Comments

[wherethewild]

"Right." Ick. He hasn't seen any mice in Diamond Castle yet, but he's in a dungeon. It's probably a matter of time. "There a reason why you're trying to avoid Martin?"

[oneirophiliac]

She could go for the long answer, with all the woe and family skeletons it entails. But he probably doesn't want- or need- to hear it.

"He hates me," she says instead. "So I really don't want to at least a quarter of an hour working through awkward silence or thinly veiled insults. What's the phase of the moon today? It might be easier to predict than him."

[wherethewild]

"Ah. Yes, he's a bit of a bitch." Never one to mince words, Peter. "I usually make it a point to look a bit dim and beatific in his presence, it keeps him from feeling like he needs to best me at whatever."

[oneirophiliac]

She shakes her head, hefting her bags and elbowing the door open. "Won't work with me. Must be a nice trick to pull, though- you look more like one'a those bright-eyed squirrels. Smart as a whip."

That's a compliment, probably.

[wherethewild]

"It's all in the eyes," Peter tells her. "The bigger they get, the more dim most people assume you are. Some brow furrowing helps too, of course."

He gives her a faint smile, though. "Some people say I'm too smart for my own good."

[oneirophiliac]

She won't see the smile; her back is already turned, bent to dig through her bag. "Get in trouble with authority a lot? That's usually what they say when someone's smarter'n they'd like. Never had that trouble myself."

She shrugs, shaking hair out of her eyes as she pulls out an empty pile of wires that she assembles easily into a cage. "Easier to coast along, y'know?"