There can only be one

Boss, something I can only describe as odd is happening.

"What do you have for country?" Moran offered, walking back to the drawer. He pulled out the drawer, grabbing a nice heavy pan and setting it down on the stovetop. He glanced back at Moriarty, looking him over after another attempt of searching through the cabinets. "Do you have spices somewhere?"

Moriarty put on some contemporary jazz before going back to the island and sitting down watching Moran. He figured his sniper would find the spices without his help, but the man was still a mystery.

@askmoriarty liked for a Halloween starter and got~

Jim was there to get rid of spies. The fact that ONE wasn't was a problem. made sense, though, considering he couldn't get back without at least another.

"What do you have for country?" Moran offered, walking back to the drawer. He pulled out the drawer, grabbing a nice heavy pan and setting it down on the stovetop. He glanced back at Moriarty, looking him over after another attempt of searching through the cabinets. "Do you have spices somewhere?"

Moriarty put on some contemporary jazz before going back to the island and sitting down watching Moran. He figured his sniper would find the spices without his help, but the man was still a mystery.

The butchering was methodical, he was hardly bothered by the blood, more focused on properly seperating out his cuts. Each extra slab of meat was properly bagged and sealed, being left in the freezer until he could ask Moriarty what he wanted to be done with it. Moran supposed he'd ask to keep it, that amount of meat could last him around four months if he preserved it correctly. More than if he really needed to stretch it.

Finishing the old-fashioned, he put the sides on a low simmer and waited with his eyes closed. Almost meditating. It was a state he learned to put himself in ages ago. It's how even Mycroft's men couldn't even get him to talk. Time was irrelevant and he could shut himself off.

Moran set his steak down on the counter with very little regard for the fact that he was setting raw meat down on the table. He took the cup with his still slightly bloody hand and took a little sip. "Mmm, not bad for posh shit." He smirked at Moriarty before setting it back down and moving further into the kitchen to find a pan to start cooking.

"It's not posh, it's classic." He argued. The bait for trying to figure out what music Moran liked was left on the hook. He noticed Moran washing up and smirked, glad there was some sort of decency about him.

"What do you have for country?" Moran offered, walking back to the drawer. He pulled out the drawer, grabbing a nice heavy pan and setting it down on the stovetop. He glanced back at Moriarty, looking him over after another attempt of searching through the cabinets. "Do you have spices somewhere?"

And they said robbing the Louvre would be hard...

Oh you're no fun!

I think we both know I have plenty of power.

Like you don't go around bragging all the time. Besides, it's not like I plastered my face all over London. Only one of us has done that.

The butchering was methodical, he was hardly bothered by the blood, more focused on properly seperating out his cuts. Each extra slab of meat was properly bagged and sealed, being left in the freezer until he could ask Moriarty what he wanted to be done with it. Moran supposed he'd ask to keep it, that amount of meat could last him around four months if he preserved it correctly. More than if he really needed to stretch it.

Finishing the old-fashioned, he put the sides on a low simmer and waited with his eyes closed. Almost meditating. It was a state he learned to put himself in ages ago. It's how even Mycroft's men couldn't even get him to talk. Time was irrelevant and he could shut himself off.

Moran set his steak down on the counter with very little regard for the fact that he was setting raw meat down on the table. He took the cup with his still slightly bloody hand and took a little sip. "Mmm, not bad for posh shit." He smirked at Moriarty before setting it back down and moving further into the kitchen to find a pan to start cooking.

"It's not posh, it's classic." He argued. The bait for trying to figure out what music Moran liked was left on the hook. He noticed Moran washing up and smirked, glad there was some sort of decency about him.

And they said robbing the Louvre would be hard...

Oh you're no fun!

I think we both know I have plenty of power.

And they said robbing the Louvre would be hard...

Oh you're no fun!

And they said robbing the Louvre would be hard...

Moran nodded, following behind him once again carrying the deer with very little difficulty. He walked into the shed calmly and set the deer down on the table. "I'll find you when dinner is ready I suppose?" He offered already staring at the tools with a hunger. Though he'd respected the animal he was currently much more interested in taking it appart.

"You better." He stated before going back to the townhouse and unlocking the back door. Coming inside, the space was wide. Only one room(easier to make sure no one snuck up on him), and the rest was just an open space. A couch with a large TV. Record player hooked up to speakers. An island in the kitchen, and rope lights all around the place. He hated normal lighting, set him off.

The butchering was methodical, he was hardly bothered by the blood, more focused on properly seperating out his cuts. Each extra slab of meat was properly bagged and sealed, being left in the freezer until he could ask Moriarty what he wanted to be done with it. Moran supposed he'd ask to keep it, that amount of meat could last him around four months if he preserved it correctly. More than if he really needed to stretch it.

Finishing the old-fashioned, he put the sides on a low simmer and waited with his eyes closed. Almost meditating. It was a state he learned to put himself in ages ago. It's how even Mycroft's men couldn't even get him to talk. Time was irrelevant and he could shut himself off.

Moran began to undo his straps quickly, satisfied that he'd escaped the conversation for the moment. He wasn't sure how but he wasn't going to go examining it in the moment. So he settled back on his task, eyes tracking the path of each strap as he methodically removed them, never leaving enough tension in them to pull the animal.

"Of course you'll suffer through it." He mused. Stepping from the truck, he led Moran along a small path between the buildings before leading him to the back, where a large shed was somewhat hidden between a few trees

Moran nodded, following behind him once again carrying the deer with very little difficulty. He walked into the shed calmly and set the deer down on the table. "I'll find you when dinner is ready I suppose?" He offered already staring at the tools with a hunger. Though he'd respected the animal he was currently much more interested in taking it appart.

"You better." He stated before going back to the townhouse and unlocking the back door. Coming inside, the space was wide. Only one room(easier to make sure no one snuck up on him), and the rest was just an open space. A couch with a large TV. Record player hooked up to speakers. An island in the kitchen, and rope lights all around the place. He hated normal lighting, set him off.

Moran suddenly was beginning to feel very trapped in the car, not necessarily a fan of having the question sprung on him. But he set his jaw and gave it a nice long thought, once again running through the pros and cons. It wasn't as if he hadn't been offered a different place before. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Moriarty scowled, pulling out his phone and texting away. "Burn it down it is." He muttered. Stuffing it in his pockets, he pulled out a cig and lit it.

Moran pulled the car to a stop and quickly turned it off, not technically running from the car. He was still calculated, slow, but he was beginning to feel more and more like this conversation wouldn't be dropped.

Moriarty was put off, which was unusual. He leaned back in the bed of the truck, letting Moran get away from his gaze. This was new. Someone he couldn't predict or order. At least, in his personal life. This one was smart, so trying to order him to appease his loneliness wouldn't go well.

Moran began to undo his straps quickly, satisfied that he'd escaped the conversation for the moment. He wasn't sure how but he wasn't going to go examining it in the moment. So he settled back on his task, eyes tracking the path of each strap as he methodically removed them, never leaving enough tension in them to pull the animal.

"Of course you'll suffer through it." He mused. Stepping from the truck, he led Moran along a small path between the buildings before leading him to the back, where a large shed was somewhat hidden between a few trees

Moran suddenly was beginning to feel very trapped in the car, not necessarily a fan of having the question sprung on him. But he set his jaw and gave it a nice long thought, once again running through the pros and cons. It wasn't as if he hadn't been offered a different place before. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Moriarty scowled, pulling out his phone and texting away. "Burn it down it is." He muttered. Stuffing it in his pockets, he pulled out a cig and lit it.

Moran pulled the car to a stop and quickly turned it off, not technically running from the car. He was still calculated, slow, but he was beginning to feel more and more like this conversation wouldn't be dropped.

Moriarty was put off, which was unusual. He leaned back in the bed of the truck, letting Moran get away from his gaze. This was new. Someone he couldn't predict or order. At least, in his personal life. This one was smart, so trying to order him to appease his loneliness wouldn't go well.