ALWAYS ROOT FOR THE HOME TEAM !

“cool.” ezekiel grins, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, messing with the coins he kept in their. “jones, by the way. ezekiel jones. you’re sophie deveraux.” he nods, confidently, keeping his voice low. “you’re legendary, mate.” he beams. he wonders if she’s heard of him. maybe. his ego would feel better if he knew that she had.

her head tilts ever so slightly in his direction.   “ezekiel jones, you say?”   she has, in fact, heard that name before.  a couple of times. but one particular moment stands out to her.   “there was an incident in new york a few years back. i spent two months convincing a weasel of a man that i was a direct descendant of atahualpa,  and that  la corona de los andes rightfully belonged to the people of colombia.  only for it to go  missing from the man’s collection a day after i’d finally gotten him to let me into his private vault to glance upon it.”

He forces a smile at her. which isn’t even fair because he is happy to help her, happy to make her happy, it’s just that…well, she begins, and it’s….not………good. He catches on pretty quick that she’s supposed to be a virtuous woman, pious and motherly, but the way Sophie inflects her words and moves her body keeps making the character weirdly sexy. When she stops to ask what he thinks, he goes with “You basically have all the words exactly!” because how the heck is he supposed to tell her the other thing.

step two: rp a cute dork.

step three: actually give her newfound oracle like powers some fucking purpose.

step four: ????

          ❛   Oh,   come on,   Nate.   Don’t be ridiculous.   People are   always   touching me with affection.  Getting people to trust   &&   care for me is practically my whole thing.    ❜       Truth be told,   Sophie didn’t know the real answer to that question.   She understands the question,   oh boy does she ever,   but Sophie doesn’t remember the last time she allowed someone to get close to her   ——   the real her,   the her that wasn’t Sophie or Annie or any of the aliases she’d used in her past.   

          Even being with past boyfriends felt too much like an act,  any affection a sham.   They were never with the real her,   whoever that was,   &&   that made it feel as unauthentic as the forgeries she’d left behind in her wake,  two lifetimes ago.

              “hey, it’s not my fault you never wear the right shoes for what i do, sophie. you’re th’ only one that wears heels. you know nate’d kill me ‘f i let that guy touch you. i ain’t lookin’ t’ get taken out by a drunk.” eliot shakes his head. he’ll never understand that, he doesn’t think. why she gets so attached to her shoes. sure eliot’s attached to his boots but… it’s not the same. “you’re jus’ lucky i got there in time or you’da been out more’n your shoes.” he taps his nose, eyebrows lifting upwards. you’d think she’d know by now. 

He eyes the thick stack of bound paper. A couple means two. “Round where I’m from, we call that a book,” he says, trying to edge backwards without fully being obvious that he’s running away. He needs an adult, but unfortunately, Sophie is the adult he usually calls. Desperate means the rest of the gang has already found some way to leave her high and dry, which means it’s up to him to not completely abandon her. Eliot and Parker are gonna owe him big time. “I know nothing about theatre,” he says in resignation, holding his hand out for the script, “all I can do is match your words to what’s on the page and tell you if you get any wrong.” 

“Okay, but I’m blaming you if we get lost.” Nate stood and made for the stairs, spurred on by the promise of being back at her side. He liked it, being nearly joined at the hip, being a team. They were in almost perfect sync, at least if they both put in the effort. It was funny to him, the form of intimacy Sophie seemed to just volunteer. He attributed it to her training as an actress, always watching, reacting, keeping the chemistry. None of the people in her little theater troupe seemed to have much of a concept of emotional distance either.

He turned back, humor coloring his glance. “Do you want me to pick something out for you? Or would you rather join me?" 

His face split into a grin, teasing. Of course, she could always go for a third option. As much as they were a team, she always found some way to surprise him. Sometimes it drove him up a wall. Tonight, however, he was feeling a pull in a different direction.

         ❛   come now,   nate.   where’s your sense of adventure ?   getting lost is half the fun.    ❜     sophie doesn’t waste another minute before she herself gets to her feet,   stopping just short of her companion.   every inch of her struggles with the desire to take him by the hand,   drag him upstairs,   &&   make the night go far differently than they’re discussing.   sophie’s heart,   as full of passion as ever,   was often fond of guiding her actions.

          tonight, however, she’ll resist   ——   if only for a few hours longer.

ezekiel’s grin in cheeky. “darling?” he arches a brow, and laughs. “well, babe,” he intentionally draws the word out, “it’s three fifteen.” he offers her the time piece from his pocket, “bit of a habit i got. tend to just sorta get a bit sticky fingered.” he moves forward. “where’s your meeting at? i’ll walk you there.” he knows of her ( who in the criminal world didn’t know of sophie deveraux ), and he’s eager to find out more, but not so eager to blow his cover.