Co-post with Serra_Angel
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Marcus had spent the cab ride thinking over what he would need, his first move had been to inspect the flat that Allstone had purchased in town, in his name. It was...sufficient and well stocked. Not that he wouldn't bring in his own equipment. After all that was done, and only after all that was done, did he move to venture to meet the man Allstone had directed him too. When he climbed out of the cab his expletives were mild, but heartfelt.
Marcus stood looking at the palatial manor in front of him. What a piece of over indulgence and overcompensation. Huge beyond necessity. He could hardly believe he was here. What sort of man was this Jacob Harrisford that would live in such a ridiculous place. It's not like he was the bloody queen.
Shaking his head in a mixture of disgust at the place, and disbelief at himself for even bothering to come here, he walked up to the front door. He dressed like a brooding vampire, dark slacks and gray dress shirt and his great coat flapping behind him making him look more ominous. With his hair unkempt, his piercing dark eyes, and his aquiline features he looked darkly menacing. He didn't care. He rarely cared what others thought of him. People held very little interest to him, except on a scientific level.
With a deep sigh he lifted a hand and rang the bell. He half expected the sound of the bell to be as loud and ostentatious as the manor. Instead it was silent...at least on this side.
Jacob had just finished hanging up his charcoal pants and black dress shirt in the closet next to his dark grey overcoat when the doorbell rang. He frowned as he listened to Syren's rigidly sweet voice as she climbed into the shower. Without him. He quickly hurried into a beige linen suit with light blue dress shirt and fastened his cufflinks on the way into the bathroom where he ran a handful of water through his hair and re-parted it down the side, then roughed it up with his fingers. He buttoned the front of his shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone, on the way down the marble stairs, and paused in front of a mirror long enough to tuck his shirt behind his belt and tug the edges of his sleeves to perfection.
For a brief moment Jacob pondered it might be nice to have a butler if for no other reason then to not have to sprint from his bedroom to get to the door in a timely manner. Where was Alex anyway? That would have been convenient, too.
Jacob opened the door to a stranger.
The man was dressed in dark clothes, almost identical to the ones he had worn only hours before. In them was someone who didn't seem particularly pleased to be here. And they say he looked broody sometimes.
A cab sat idling in the driveway.
He wondered.
Jacob realized he hadn't yet greeted his guest and offered his hand. "Pardon my manners. Jacob Harrisford, and whom might you be?" He put on a charming grin and a relaxed stance. He had no idea who this man was, but until he did he would have to play his part.
"Not a bloody tourist, if that's what your thinking," snarled Marcus, his politeness somewhat shredded thin by his discomfort and disgust at being here. He fished in his pocket and pulled out the ultra-plain 'business' card.
"A guest to my flat gave me your card, said we might be interested in doing business. I was disinclined to believe him at first." Marcus tried to keep the annoyance from his voice and failed. Pain was seeping into the periphery of his mind and it would only make him more short tempered.
"Bloody tourist?" Jacob echoed, concern brushing his face as he still held out his hand in the polite gesture. "I never accused you of being..." he's not American. Jacob blinked. Finding someone from his home town, at his door... He accepted the business card and glanced at it. "Allstone." Jacob whispered the name and took another moment to study the card in more detail. So he is still out there. Somewhere. Why didn't he show up this afternoon?
"Do come in. I'll put the kettle on. Then we can talk about your business." Jacob studied the features of the strange man. The unkempt hair. The hyper-aware eyes. The strain that was apparent throughout his body. It was almost as if the man was in distress. But why? He stepped politely out of the way and led the man inside.
"Yeah that was him. Allstone. Couldn't get the chap off my front stoop, finally had to let him in." Because he knew much of what he shouldn't have thought Marcus but he didn't voice that.
"I understand what you mean. I tried to get him to go away, too, but he was awfully well informed. I decided to hear the bloke out." As if I had a choice, he thought, remembering their first encounter.
Marcus stepped into the foyer and looked around. "Americans," he muttered under his breath. "Big cars, big guns, big houses, tiny dicks."
Jacob snorted. "I suppose, though I seem to be getting use out of most of the space." He stepped into the kitchen and added water to the kettle and set it on the stove. "Ten years ago I would have laughed if someone told me I was going to buy this place." Jacob plucked the canister of tea from an overhead cabinet, knowing he hadn't bought the property for what was above ground. He was doing his best to keep his exterior light, though inside his mind he was racking his brain for pieces to a larger puzzle. Allstone's game-plan.
"Marcus Aurelius Doyle, at your service," he said still gawking a bit at the size of the place. How many people lived here? You could shelter a small army. He pulled out another business card, his own, and handed it to Jacob. His was also very plain, but it at least had an occupation and an address, sort of. Anyone in London knew where it was so further description was not necessary...and he rarely did business outside of London.
Marcus Aurelius Doyle
Consulting Detective
221B Baker Street
He hadn't had time to make new ones for his new quarters, and new business apparently, established here in Gotham City.
"It's a pleasure Mr. Doyle," Jacob smiled, setting two tea cups between them. He took a moment to glance politely at the card he had been given - and then did a double take. "You're joking."
"I strike you as the joking type Mr. Harrisford?" Marcus responded in a very dry voice.
Jacob smiled over the edge of his cup as he drank.
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