[ota] time will tell....

[wouldbetrump]

Clive had spent the morning in his office, not behind his desk but...rather in front of his dry erase board. It was covered in a web of links and possible solutions to various inter-suit issues that peppered their troubles.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he licked his lips a moment.

Leaving his offices, he didn't pause to speak to many. No, no...The King of Spades was intent on tending to his business of the day as quickly as possible, it seemed. But what that business was might well have been up for debate.

Comments

[falsepretences]

He glanced up when Clive paused in the doorway of his office, his brows raising when he saw his expression. Well, Jordan thought, likely not a summons for dinner this time, and he set his pen aside as he flipped the folder on his desk closed.

He waited until Clive closed the door before speaking, though; there were some old habits that never died.

"Is something wrong?"

[wouldbetrump]

"No, not entirely." Clive said, shaking his head. "I was just on my way to town is all." He said, before smirking a little. "Thought I'd see if you wanted to walk with me and grab a drink. Been a while, and all."

And more or less, he just needed a sane person to be around for a while.

[falsepretences]

Not entirely, Jordan thought, was less than reassuring, but he just made a show of looking down at his paperwork and rolling his eyes expressively. "As fascinating as inventory reports are," he said. "I think maybe I can drag myself away."

Without shedding a single tear, he thought as he picked up his hat and keys.

"You look like you've spent a long day with the white board."

[wouldbetrump]

"Well, I have. It is a bit expected, really- given that my job usually involves a very large white board and a load of markers." Though to be honest, sometimes he was ever to tempted to just doodle on the thing.

"Have you heard anything interesting lately?"

[falsepretences]

"Maybe I should get myself one of those," Jordan murmured. It at least looked more fun than his usual day of strolling through the digitization sweatshop to monitor all the scanning.

Except when his days involved a few unexpected visits. "A few things," he said. "Word is that there are skirmishes at the Outposts, between the Clubs and Diamonds. I heard from one of the Spades who passed through that way, though it seems Elisha and Säde are keeping it quiet." The King of Clubs had gone to the Outposts on Friday, though, which was interesting. He wasn't one to make field trips out that way.

"Adam and Melanie brought back worrying news from Outside, as well," he added in a lower tone.

[wouldbetrump]

"You don't say?" He asked, a curious look slipping over his features. "Have you asked Hadyn about it?" Which might well be unfair, he knew. Clive could even just ask his younger cousin himself, but Hadyn wouldn't likely tell him anything. Not like he would his brother, at least.

Which Jordan, despite his attitude at times, always seemed loath to use to his advantage.

Still, anything that was going on on the outpost was worth knowing about. "What news did Adam and Melanie bring?"

[falsepretences]

"He said one of the guards had been reassigned to the Castle outside the normal schedule. Jose Silva," Jordan added. "Low-ranked. But then he also said Elisha had gone out there, so I think that means it's more serious than it first appears." He didn't like using Hadyn, it was true - at least not regularly. But occasionally, he didn't mind asking questions.

When it seemed harmless.

"A problem with one of our suppliers. Not the weaponry suppliers," he said, flicking a glance at his cousin. That, he imagined, would be taken care of; Victor Fox was efficient. "The one we use for medical supplies in Austria. He's been talking."

[bitchwithabite]

It'd been...far too long since they spoke. It was probably not the time for it, but Clive was going to have to face this one way or another. He was going to have to acknowledge it, one way or another.

Pulling her hair to one side, Amy fell into step with him, to his right and just a little behind him. "You're busy. I know. But we need to talk, and I'm hopin' we can do that now, or damn soon." And she could only hope that he wasn't going to push her away.

[wouldbetrump]

He slowed when he noticed her in the hall, and tilted his head a little. "We...could talk now. Not sure how long this trip to town could take." He said, licking his lips a little as he motioned toward an empty room.

"What's wrong?" He asked, closing the door behind them.

[bitchwithabite]

"You mean aside from the fact that, last I heard, we're still doing this dating thing, but we haven't made eye contact in almost a month? I-... Clive, I miss you. I do. But what are we doin'?" It was a fair enough question, she thought. She needed to know, plain and simple, if she even still had a boyfriend.

"I know you're not happy with me killin' Laila, or that I fought back against her cousins when they attacked me. It wasn't ideal, but it's what I had to do." And she wasn't going to apologize for it. "But you gotta tell me if that's the end of it, or if we're actually gonna keep trying this."

[wouldbetrump]

"...I've been busy, Amy. It is the unfortunate effect of being King." Though he tried very hard to find personal time, it just didn't always happen. "I don't...understand what you mean by 'what are we doing'? Last I checked were were dating." Which, unfortunately, involved busy schedules.

As for the Laila situation, well. Everyone had to lay in the bed they made. Amy made that one, and there was little he could do to change that now. "Was killing Laila something you had to do?" He asked, raising a brow that suggested he highly doubted it had or every would have been 'necessary' in the grand scheme of things. "If I'd been out to end it, I would have done it when you told me, Amy."

Which did not change the fact that he had no idea where any of this was coming from.

[bitchwithabite]

"So busy that you haven't found five minutes in almost a month to spare?" It was her own damn fault, truly, but she'd been certain that he was avoiding her. That he was so disgusted by what she'd done that he couldn't handle the idea of being near her. "I'm pretty sure people who are dating actually try to find time to date, sugar."

She'd made her bed, and she was okay with laying in it. She'd lost Ethan, as anticipated. She was prepared to lose Clive over it, too; it's just that she preferred to be alerted when she'd lost people. It simplified things.

She wasn't going to apologize for this, though. "It was," she answered with some steel in her voice. "You probably won't ever understand why, but I had to. Part of my job as a guard is being able to protect this castle and this Suit, no matter the cost. That means being prepared to die for it, or to kill for it. It means being capable of fighting to the death to defend it all." And that's exactly what it had been.

"...You didn't say a word the rest of that night, Clive. You were pissed, even though you were quiet about it. I'm not actually a complete moron, y'know."

She was an insecure woman, particularly in relationships. This one had been going so well until she challenged to Five, but since then, there'd been...nothing. Not a kiss, not a smile, not a fleeting brush of fingers. Nothing. And it was wearing on her, making her doubt him and second-guess herself. Not good or healthy, but true nonetheless.

[wouldbetrump]

"That is....What the hell are you talking about Amy? There are two people in this relationship, and in case you've forgotten, I've brought you dinner during your shifts on the guard, and left you notes as well as called. So so not, do not but this all on me." He said, holding up his hands before he shook his head.

"You're right. I was angry, but why shouldn't I be? Do you think I ever doubted you had it in you to do what needed to be done? But to think that proving you can kill by taking a life in a challenge did anything to prove you were more capable than you were before? You're being naive. All that did is prove that yes, yes you can kill- just as you have done before." He scowled a little before he scrubbed a hand through his hair.

[maidenthespade]

He finds her in office, long legs stretched out to side of desk, head tilted back and seemingly staring into midair. To those who don't know her, it might appear as though Katya shirks duties or may even have dozed off. Those who do realize she is more comfortable ordering her thoughts in head than on paper or machine.

She calls it security. When in good mood and with those she trusts as much she ever trusts anyone, she will own to paranoia and laugh at own foibles.

Now, though, her gaze snaps to Clive, showing she is not as lost in thought as she may seem. "You look like man on mission," she tells him, face lighting. "Tell me it is to whisk me away from all this and I will kiss your feet, though perhaps only metaphorically."

[wouldbetrump]

"Oh, I figured you were in need of dinner and some win, my love." He said, flashing Katya his most charming smile. "Or, at least...time away from inclosed spaces." There was only so much work a Royal could do in a castle, honestly.

Or so his personal motto told him.

"I would be honored if you would join me."

[maidenthespade]

"Time away, certainly. Declan will disapprove if I stay in office too long." Today she wears flats and slips them back over her heels as she stands. "And I will always eat." Eat when you can; sleep when you can. She'd learned lesson years ago and has yet to find them wanting.

A Royal's best work often occurs outside of office. David had spent far too much time closeted within his. One corner of her mouth lifts. She and Clive both know how much can be accomplished with easy smiles.

"What did you have in mind?"

[wouldbetrump]

"How about...Thai? Or Sushi?" He asked, smiling softly as he offered Katya his arm.

"A little bird has told me some of our suppliers have been talking." One, to be precise, but that was something that could spread.

Does he wear knives on his forearms?

[maidenthespade]

"Thai," she answers at once. "I like things spicy." She takes his arm, not remarking on his information save for huffing a few strands of hair from her face. "I should not be surprised when confronted with humanity's self-destructive tendencies, yet here I am. Which supplier?" Surely not one of their weapons contacts. A certain Ten had put the fear of Victor into them long since.

He does noooot

[wouldbetrump]

"The medical supplier, or one. Jordan has even suggested we send Julien to handle the situation." It was not a suggestion that set well with him. "I'm not certain this one has had the pleasure of meeting out esteemed Ten."

[intolerantly]

Heels were loud on the stone floor, signifying an incoming hurricane. Ivona rounded the corner just as Clive stepped from his office, spying her target and approaching without care for formality or decorum.

"Did you not receive my message?" she began without preamble, hand on a hip. "Or is your new secretary simply that lax?"

[wouldbetrump]

"What?" He asked, turning to look at Ivona with surprise and then suspicion. It was a fatal flaw when it came to her, at least. "I'm certain she is not being lax, Ivona. I have not seen her today."

[intolerantly]

"Then apparently you need yet another one." But she hadn't marched all the way up here to discuss Clive's management style.

"I've just discovered some 'interesting' news and since it's of profound importance, felt it necessary to bring it to your attention." She waited, pointedly.

"Immediately."

[wouldbetrump]

Oh he was certain it was profound, he wanted to say. That, however, wouldn't be very royal like of him.

"Shall we step into my office then?" He asked, forcing a smile on his face before he turned and opening the door for her. "After you, Ivona."

[intolerantly]

It was testament of her seriousness that she didn't hesitate, and only let the door close before she began to speak.

"I was going through my mail this afternoon and found this." She handed over an embossed card, gilt with all the trappings of royalty, pomp and posh. "It's an invitation to the annual Turkish ball," she explained.

Stepping over, she pointed to a small but legible symbol crafted into the decorations encircling the calligraphic writing. "And that," she said seriously, "is the symbol of the Arcana."

[wouldbetrump]

He hardly knew what was so important about a Turkish Ball, aside from the whole unrest in Turkey and neighboring Syria. It wouldn't really be a place he'd approve of her going (or anyone, really).

The Arcana seal made him pause. "The sign of the Arcana is not unusual. We've found numerous things with it print upon them. And the outsiders are considerably more prone to believing in their mystic...properties." He said, shaking his head as he took the paper from her.

"They've made an accord with us."