bakerstreet | More than just a job

More than just a job

MORE THAN JUST A JOB

It's only business, nothing personal...at least, that's how it started. You were pegged as the right one for a job that involves this person; your task could be positive, such as protecting them with their consent or without it, guiding them from point a to point b, and the like - or, as seedier transactions tend to go, it could be negative. You have to take them back to a place they really don't want to return to, you have to be a jailor, or you even have to be their assassin. At the very least, helping or hurting, you'll be compensated generously (by money or, you know, by not being killed off). And that was all that mattered.

Until they mattered.

They could have shown you something you never knew existed in the world or in yourself. They could have done any number of things, yet they've won you and your feelings over. Your priorities just may shift because of this, but will their view of you do the same as soon as they learn why you were around them in the first place? For your own gain? Will they be able to forgive you?

Even if they can, will they be able to see you the way you see them?

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[ passive resistance may as well be no resistance, considering he has no issues hoisting Ren up to pull him out of the van. small... for his age? not that Cain's really sure how old the kid is. it's not like he asked for all that many details (which, in hindsight, he probably should have). ]

Not you. Your parents.

[ Slinging Ren over his shoulder again, he strides into the building. It's not quite as bad on the inside as it is on the outside; shabby, but livable. he reaches one of the rooms and opens it with a key. there's a bed along with a small couch, a TV, no windows, and a small bathroom toward the back.

he goes ahead and tosses Ren down onto the mattress, locking the door behind him. ]

Ah, but you're cute. I don't mind spending some time with you.

[ though he drops himself down onto the couch across from the mattress rather than join the youth ]

[Alarmed by being put on a bed (who knows where it'd been?) Ren scrambles off of it in order to sit on the floor.]

...Wait, what'd you say about my parents being rich? That's news to me. And we live in a place that's only a bit nicer than this. More rooms and windows, though.

I mean, if they are, somehow, rich, I guess it's fine. I was planning on ditching them, anyway. They believe in the whole arranged marriages crap. Nineteen's a bit young to spend the rest of your life with someone who doesn't respect you, right?

Pardon me, but it's pretty bullshit. A little bit of this... karma, I guess? It'll be good for them. It'll be a good way to see if they even give a crap.

We don't even do that shit in Russia anymore.

[ and Russia can be a pretty terrible place!! even the mail order brides get a choice, usually. he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching Ren. ]

Fuck them if they're gonna make you do something you don't want to.

[ says Ren's kidnapper.

.... but he does have to pause at the whole thing about his parents not being rich. uh. he's pretty sure a Governor is pretty rich?? there's a few moments where all he does is stare at Ren's face before he shifts to pull the photograph out of his pocket, shifting from the image of the boy on the paper to the one in front of him. ]

Blyad! [ and he throws himself back onto the couch. no fucking way. they look similar (very similar) but... shit. fuck! ]

[Ren frowns when all Cain does is stare at his face and look at -- is that a photo? And he can only assume what he just said was something pretty nasty. He gets curious, though, and gets up in order to try to get a peek at the photograph. When he does, his eyebrow goes up, and he tries not to laugh.]

Oh god, you mistook me for the Governor's brat??

I don't know if I should feel insulted or flattered! So I won't decide on either.

But nah. My folks aren't nearly as loaded as the Governor, sorry to say.

Wow.

[Tilting his head slightly, Ren still struggles not to laugh. He felt all of that horror of fear for absolutely nothing, so what's NOT hilarious about it?]

[ in all fairness he'd probably be laughing like an asshole if the situation were reversed. shit, he needs a drink. two. twelve. he just lies on the couch in frustration and vague anguish, wearing the saltiest pout with brows furrowed, right at the ceiling. ]

You look similar!

[ like that's gonna cut it for the boss. who... he can't tell about this, because he's gonna get really fucking mad. and what's he gonna do with this one? can he really just let him go now that he knows Cain's face, name, and the fact that he's trying to kidnap the governor's brat? ]

Well, I'm fucked.

[ and out of his pocket comes a small canteen that he pries open and takes a healthy swig of. when he's done he offers the canteen to Ren, because eh, why not ]

And not in the good way. [ as in, getting laid. nope, fucked as in going to get wrecked by a really angry boss. ] Been a shitty life anyway.

[To that, Ren winces at the mental imagery, as well as the fact that Cain's remark about his life makes him feel uncertain. Taking the canteen, he takes a delicate sniff of the contents before taking a sip, and then wrinkling his nose as he tries not to make a face of distaste as the flavor doesn't agree with his taste buds.]

....N-no thanks. More for you.

[He offers it back, sticking his tongue out for a few seconds as if the air around it might wipe the taste from his tongue. It doesn't.]

What do you mean you're fucked? So you got the wrong guy. What makes you think that you can't just turn around and go back out to get the right one?

Not that I condone what you're doing, but you're the guy with all the cards, so to speak.

Unless you'd rather not get caught because you blew through traffic like a maniac.

If that's the case, then yes, I think I agree with your assessment.

[ he shrugs and takes another swig of the stuff. more for him, then.

at least until he almost chokes from laughter at Ren's comment. The guy with all the cards? More like the guy with one of the cards. Being under orders from someone who has you well under their thumb isn't the same as freelancing as a kidnapping nutcase wanting cash from the Govener.

he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, ]

It's been about ... half an hour since I first picked you up. Forty five minutes? [ he drops the canteen and then turns his head to look at Ren with black eyes ] When I picked you up, that was the window of time that brat wasn't under lock and key. Now, he's home in their bigass mansion. [ he swept his hand through his hair, closing his eyes. ]

Which means that the call made by someone else when I was driving you was taken as nothing more than a prank. These things happen, they'd probably think, laughing and hanging up. And why wouldn't they? The kid was fucking home.

So the boss knows by now that I didn't do the job. And because of that, he'll kill me. I don't kidnap people because it's fun for me.

[ and then he opens his eyes again. should he have told that all to someone like this? nope. but he's already fucked and half past caring. ]

[Ren falls silent, considering this. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Ren's answer is particularly simplistic.]

So then, we both run.

I don't want to go back, and... you have no reason to trust that I won't go rat you out to the cops.

You don't... look like the kinda person who would roll over dead at beck and call, either.

Or... am I wrong, somewhere? Am I not considering something important?

[Ren couldn't help but try to consider the possibilities before them. Or, well, him. Admittedly, he did worry that he might get offed too if Cain's boss found them. It was better not to have any witnesses, right?

[But he didn't want to influence Cain's decisions unduly. It was for this reason that he had yet to give Cain his name as well. It was easier not to attribute a name to someone you didn't care about. But Ren already heard Cain's name. And Cain.. wasn't insufferable, so far.]

[ of course, that had occurred to Cain at some point between realizing that this wasn't the brat he'd needed and now—he was right about the whole not just giving up and dying business. though he hated the feeling of running away. there was a part of him that insisted that he return to the boss and face him. pride... pride, and a sick sense of loyalty that'd been ingrained in him since he'd started working for the bastard.

stupid. but it bothered him all the same; he wasn't really as cold and callous as he presented. ]

... Nope. Don't think so.

[ the canteen's empty, and he can taste the liquor thick on his tongue. ]

Unless you count where the fuck you're gonna live, and shit.

Honestly? I don't give a crap if I have to live a hobo life until I can find somewhere.

It's better than resigning the rest of my life to being someone's-- someone's bitch.

[In more ways than one, but Cain didn't need to know that.]

I'm not staying here. I know what waits for me in its entirety if I do go back, and, pardon me, but fuck. that. bullshit.

I'm not gonna lay myself down, and happily invite the rest of my life to be over before it's got time to get started!

[ sure, he doesn't understand all the implications, but he does understand. being someone's bitch sucks—and, he thinks, he's gotten kind of sick of it. sure, the boss'll fuck him up if he finds him: but that's the kicker. he's gotta find him. and Cain had set up this little room on his own (you just get orders and then do, bosses are above menial labor). he doesn't know where they are. doesn't know shit until someone else in the gang tracks him down.

he shrugs his shoulders, making a vague gesture with his hand ]

Then you're all set.

[ the answer gets a grin out of him, a toothy grin as he swings himself up out of his horizontal position. ]

I'm gonna leave at night. You can come, if you want, or you can leave by yourself now. I'm not gonna stop you.

[Ren hesitates. He's letting him go, just like that? He's not sure if it's a ruse or not, like in the-- no, it's not a movie.

[But he can go with him too, if he wants? Just if he wants to?]

[He idly stares in a nondescript spot just past Cain's shoulder, idly settling his hands into his pockets as he considers.

[If he goes on foot, and he's found, his folks are likely to drag him back, he recalls. At least in a vehicle, he has a chance of getting further away, faster. Of course, then that also further gets him involved in Cain's troubles. It could turn seriously violent.

[Call him shallow, but Cain's not bad to look at. Even smelling of booze at the moment, he has his own charm, and, it seems in so far, he hasn't lied to him.

[If he ever gets tired, or finds somewhere to stop, he can always bail later. Even though the thought leaves him feeling mildly uncomfortable.

[His decision made, he looks back at Cain, and then cracks a wry smile.]

...Can I at least ride shotgun this time?

[ that gets another laugh, more cheerful than the last ones, as he runs a hand through his thick hair, pushing it out of his face. ]

Sure. You can sit on the damn roof, if you want to.

[ he glances at his watch: they've got a few hours before night time, but he really doesn't think they should move before then. not when the gang's active—they might be trying to salvage the situation, or they might be trying to find him. either way: moving seems bad. ]

What do you wanna do to kill the next few hours? Better stay here until it's dark and quiet. Easier to drive, less likely of being seen, yadda yadda.

[ honestly, he's considering nabbing a different car. white vans tend to attract attention, easy as they are to get. ]

Other than nap until then, I really didn't have any ideas. Unless you do?

[Well, he does, but it's not "wholesome" an idea. Wanting to get closer ~~on the first date~~ after being kidnapped by that person is kind of... strange. He can't quite reconcile it yet in his head. Frowning a little in thought, something else occurs to him.]

Oh, right. If you ever wanna call me anything other than "you" or whatever, you can call me Ren.

[Admittedly, it's a far different name than the name of the governor's kid, too. Imagine how differently this could have played out if Cain had asked his name first!]

Ren.

[ yeah... yeah. he just all around fucked that one up. though in a shitty defense: he forgot what the governor's kid's name was, he'd been pretty sure face would be easy enough. obviously not.

but he tries the name out: it's not hard to remember. short. one syllable.

he kicks his boots off and shrugs out of his jacket so he was only clad in black jeans and a black tank top, draping himself back across the couch like a cat, muscles rippling while he stretches out lazily. sleep isn't the worst thing in the world. ]

Mm... not unless you wanna make out.

[ he's... kidding. partially. not really. ]

If you wanna sleep, that mattress isn't actually that fucked up. Got it off a shipment a while back.

[ so he's slept on it before, yeah, and most of his lays don't like the whole 'coming to a warehouse dock area' thing. ]

[The offer to make out makes Ren's face flush a deep shade of red, and for him to appear like a deer caught in headlights. He gives Cain a long, long look as he struggles (and mostly fails) to scoop his thoughts off the floor and out of the gutter where they're threatening to go despite himself.]

I-I, uh... maybe... maybe, later...

[It's kind of mumbled, but it's audible enough. Burning an even brighter shade of red, Ren turns to go back to the mattress to curl up and get a nap in. If they're going to be awake during the night, might as well be somewhat alert for it.]

...! Hahaha! You're really fucking cute.

[ he grins, flashing teeth before rolling back onto the couch, stretching out again. sleeping's easy when you've just knocked back some booze, anyway. yawning, he closes his eyes, ]

Let me know if you change your mind.

[ ... he's cute to tease, okay? Cain's content to doze for now, legs too long for the couch so they dangle off the side. ]

[That prompts him to glance back at Cain, still beet red, but he doesn't reply. He just stretches out on the mattress on his stomach, and then rolls over to his side, with his back facing him.

[If only so that Cain can't see the giddy and nervous smile curling his lips. "He thinks I'm cute!!!" he thinks. It feels really fucking good to not have the undercurrent of a jab against him in the same breath.

[Though napping like this is... not the most comfortable. Ren prefers to sleep in just his boxers, and that's... problematic right now. Because he's too warm for blankets, anyway.

[He wriggles a bit to get comfortable, and, even if he doesn't actually fall asleep, drifting in a dimly awake state isn't bad, either.]

[ good enough to kill an hour or so; Cain won't be able to doze longer than that, pushing himself up and rubbing his palm against his face as he does.

the sun's breaking across the horizon in orange and yellow, setting yet not quite set, so there's still time to kill. he does a quick survey of the room—he can't come back here after this, so he's gonna have to shove as much as possible into the truck. there's bedding boxed up in some of the boxes against the wall...

he stands, stretching again, pulling his elbow over his head and loosening himself up for what he figures'll probably be a long night of driving. ]

[At first, when he hears quiet sounds, Ren doesn't remember where he is as he wakes up. Even so, he manages to keep himself still, waiting a moment until it comes back to him. It does, before long, and the tension in his body ebbs.

[He yawns, flexing his fingers a bit as they'd gotten slightly cramped from trying to cuddle the mattress in his sleep. Flopping over onto his back as he wills his mind to snap into full alertness, he idly looks over at the source of the sounds he heard: Cain.

[He catches himself staring just a bit, and he closes his eyes in order to rub them as he sits up, and swings his legs over the edge.]

Nnn. I dunno if that mattress helped or hindered my sleep.

[Ren yawns again, and grimaces, and looks back up at him - this time, not staring at his muscles.]

Or maybe it's just the unfamiliar area.

You rest okay?

Okay enough.

[ he probably could have used more, but he doesn't even feel it — just the adrenaline of avoiding any members of the gang, the boss' eyes, knowing he'd fucked up their carefully constructed plan and didn't even attempt to fix it. not to mention his unexpected tag-a-long; not that he's unhappy for the company. he doesn't particularly like being alone unless he's training. ]

You can sleep in the truck, if you want.

[ still unfamiliar, but more time, at least.

he gestures towards the boxes stacked against the wall, ] Grab whatever you think you might wanna use so we can pack it up. [ the blankets he thought of earlier, pillows, things like sweaters and other things one could grab from donation bins and passed out as loot from the boss. ]

I might, if my stamina wears out. I'm, uh... [Ren's tone softens.] mostly banking on keeping you company for as long as I can.

[Looking to the boxes, Ren rummaged about in them in order to pull out a couple of decent-looking sweaters, some blankets, and four fluffy pillows. After sniffing them to make sure that they don't smell bad, he carefully starts refolding the blankets so that he can just use them to carry the pillows and sweaters inside.]

This should work, from what I could find.

[For the moment, he sets them down on the mattress. It's not like they're moving out just now, so there's still time, isn't there?]

Edited 2016-04-17 22:44 (UTC)

[ the sun still hasn't quite set so: yes. time.

which is why Cain throws himself back onto the mattress, arms splayed wide, though he manages to avoid messing up the pile Ren had just placed down. it's rough; it's not time to leave but he's feeling restless, ready to do something. he knows it's not time, but it doesn't make it any easier. he likes to do. have distractions. ]

Yeah? [ he grins up at Ren, ignoring the pile of selected items. ] That's sweet of you—keeping me company.

[To that, Ren gives Cain a faint smile, and then picks up the pile to move it a bit further away.]

Well, it's because of this situation that I can get away from mine.

One good turn deserves another, and all that.

[To be honest, seeing Cain laying out like this, he can't help but let his gaze wander appreciatively, even though he's aware of the other man's eyes on him.]

[ he doesn't seem to mind being looked at, at any rate. just looks back and grins like he likes it. which he does. ]

Feel like it's better called somethin' like... dumb luck. [ because 'a good turn' makes it feel like he'd actually intended to do something good—he can't pretend that much. ] But I'll still take it.

[ stretching out, he rolls, flopping his arms over his head. ]

Shit, waiting's boring! And I can't sleep anymore.

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