graver and quieter

Adam chuckles and blinks slowly. His vision is coming back and even sitting up, he feels his balance settling again.

"What were you even doing for him? Polishing his shoes after every step?"

He finally actually looks up at the man helping him. He looks vaguely familiar, not in a "saw a stranger across the street once and just remembered his face" way. More like a "he looks like someone I know" way. Or it could be they'd met in Adam's "Roaring Twenties" but he doesn't look quite old enough for that to be the case.

It would show better character if he also didn't come off like a total hot head compared to his boss. Former boss.

"It's a little thankless, but I like to think I'm the brains behind many operations," Edmund shook off his grumpiness, Adam didn't deserve it, "Edmund Pevensie. I'm a little new to the area, I'm usually traveling."

Edmund, whom he had always had such a contentious and strained relationship with? Edmund, whom he cannot talk to? Whom he could never just simply talk to?

Without a word, he raises the cup of coffee that is offered to him to his lips and drinks. The bitterness of the drink is rivaled only by the bitterness of the picture painted by Edmund’s words of a heavy tension in the air, not only in between the two of them but that hangs over all the citizens of Godscobh — a dense fog of uncertainty and apprehension that had gripped their hearts and minds since the day of the raid. Peter’s raid.

It occurs to him, for a brief and fleeting moment, to ask if his brother believes that he had done the right thing. To be affirmed by someone who is close to him, someone who knows him, that his judgement had not been compromised. That to make the choice to act is better than to make no choice at all, even if in the moment, things may seem to be more chaotic and unstable than ever. That he had done well. For once in his life, Peter needs someone to tell him that he was doing well — but those words die before they ever reach his lips.

He would not ask that of him. Not of his baby brother, who has not yet seen just how difficult life can truly be. Yes, Peter can trust Edmund — or, at least, Peter wants to believe that he can trust Edmund — but he will not ask for his support when he is the one meant to support him.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, and he will not ask that his brother share the weight of that responsibility with him. That is a burden all his own.

“Well… Only just today, I received notice that the judge has granted me the search and seizure warrant I had requested in the aftermath of our operation, therefore the plan is that I return to the scene and provide on-site security and support to our CSI unit while my men search every last inch of that harbour.”

Conveniently, Peter elects not to mention why there may be a need for said security in the first place. There is no need to exacerbate whatever concerns his little brother has about him.

@justedmnd

"Thrilling," Edmund's response is equally measured, careful not to offend his brother with any of his actual opinions on this. He didn't exactly question Peter's choices or think they were wrong, but they obviously weren't kids playing soldiers any more. Peter's decisions affected everyone else in town, not just the criminals he'd like to prosecute. Ed was definitely looking forward to ports being opened again.

He has learned, however, that words thrown around carelessly tend to land badly between them. Bringing more attention to the stress they're all under would only make Peter put more pressure on himself, and Ed's not looking to see his brother explode under it all.

"So you have to be security because... someone thinks there'll be another fight?" Edmund puts two and two together - he's not as mindless as Peter has, at times, accused him of being. Peter's squad being needed for security means the danger is still very real and alive, not just conveniently sanctioned off to one night. And if someone's going to be shooting again, they're going to be shooting at Peter, "I suppose you cheesed off everyone you didn't arrest, eh?"

While he does indeed have a reputation for rewarding those who prove themselves somehow worthy of it with his patronage, he feels the need to assess them personally and determine that worth, or the lack thereof, for himself first — and that is how he had first met Edmund Pevensie.

The young man was that of a peculiar nature, far more subdued and solemn than his glowing, golden brother, but not without his own virtues to speak of. There was little resemblance to be found between the siblings, be that in manner or temperament, but it was these very differences that made them each so valuable to him.

In Edmund, he had found a boy with the ambition to rise far beyond his means, and the drive to see it through. A loyal assistant and a logical, fair advisor, whose proactivity and dutifulness had earned him a position at the mayor’s side — until he had decided, against the intern’s counsel, to forgo running for re-election, again.

Zander’s reasons for stepping down had been his own, but he had determined himself to watch the young man’s career whether or not he remained in politics for himself, and what he had seen in the years since had not disappointed him.

Recently, he had his office reach out to ask that Edmund gauge the current sentiment of the citizens in regards to the local government — and, as nothing more than a self-indulgent test, his personal assessment as a veteran campaign manager on if Zander should return to his former position as mayor or not.

Waiting for him in his office at City Hall, he gestures for him to enter as soon as he hears him announce himself through the door.

“Mr. Pevensie, at last. Come in. We have much to discuss.”

@justedmnd

Zander was definitely one of his preferred superiors, though he'd graduated from internships under Zander to just consulting and advising a few years ago. Ed would've loved if Zander had stayed mayor, in fact, and not only because it would've given himself a substantial boost to his social and political acclaim. Surprisingly enough, Ed did just like the man beyond the formalities of work too, even if the council did sometimes fall in that aforementioned category of "big-headed". Who wasn't, in their line of work?

"About the ports closure?" Edmund made the assumption, since it was all anyone had been chattering about for weeks, "I've been wanting to discuss a timeline for that, it's affecting practically everything supplied at stores in the area."

For obvious reasons they couldn't just stop the investigation, but couldn't they... reopen a little bit? It didn't do the town any good to have fewer resources for every little thing.

"I just- I don't know, I feel bad. You were just trying to buy pens and now I'm telling you about my missing older sister. Thats uhm... not exactly a good impression that I'm making. Not that the bloody sweater was doing me any favors either, but- I'm sorry, I'm doing it again."

She's silent for a single beat before the nerves make her blurt things out all over again. Keeping silent was always better, but sometimes she couldn't help herself. She could be so calm in life or death situations. She could be so calm when helping someone through the worst of something horrible, but something like this scattered her brain like nothing else.

"It's not that she makes me tense, really. I tend to make myself tense. Over absolutely nothing, as I'm sure you can tell. And uhm, she was pretty tense too, all the time, from what I can remember of her when we interacted."

"I know what you mean," It doesn't exactly come naturally to Edmund to extend empathy, but it's a skill he's working on, "Has anyone ever pointed out to you - you talk more easily about stopping a patient from stabbing himself than you do about your sister? That must just come with the job?" It was the kind of intriguing that made Ed want to ask for more, so he got exactly what he wanted, "I hope that's not impolite to point out. I also get... tense when talking about my family."

She grabs the water and sips at it when he pushes it towards her, without complaint or protest. Though she does roll her eyes slightly, the attitude seems to have become mostly self-contained by now. She hasn't had a good opportunity to observe this one up close yet, so why not now? She might as well. "I never said I didn't like you."

The question about her name isn't much of a surprise, as it is a curiosity. She tilts her head slightly at it for a moment while she considers whether or not to answer it in good faith. Her hand reaches out to snatch some greasy food from the plate. It's an event trying to eat without making a mess all over herself, but she manages, and washes it down with water. She hates to admit that it makes her feel marginally better, but it does. So when she presses the cool side of the water glass to her flushed face, she decides to actually give him an answer.

"Of course," He picks at the plate with a fork, even though you don't need utensils to eat a burger. He doesn't recall meeting a Fowl family or anyone else with that name that Peter introduced him to, but obviously she knew who he was. It makes his walls thicken up inside, instinctively aware that she'd be comparing every little word or action from him to his brother. Well, at least she didn't think charitably towards Peter, maybe that was a start to freeing himself from the golden boy's lingering shadow.

"Edmund, but most people call me Ed," He starts to eat too, but with better manners. Granted, he's not fighting against the whole room turning sideways, "Are you a ballerina then?"

Right, she had a question to answer.

"But, no she doesn't live in town. She used to, but not anymore. I don't know where she is, actually. I'm pretty sure she got married, but I couldn't say with any certainty. She just left one day, didn't tell anybody where she was going, and I've never seen her since. Lea Florence Majorelle."

This felt more awkward and uncomfortable than talking about a patient stabbing themself with a pen. How does she always manage to do this?

"Sorry, I rambled again. I really don't mean to." She laughs, trying to ease any tension away, "The sweater. I'll definitely need a dry cleaner for the sweater."

Given the mention of his brother, Ed has to assume that Sophia already knows about the rest of his siblings too. He couldn't imagine missing one of their weddings or not even knowing where they were... Sophia had this almost tragic ability to speak of things like a patient self-harming or a missing sister as though they were as common as the milk in her coffee that morning.

"Why are you apologizing? I asked about her and you told me about her. It's just a shame she makes you so tense."

The guy steps closer into the neon light and Tim can make out more details. The coat is way nicer than anything Tim has owned. The way he carries himself isn't someone looking for a fight but someone privileged in an uncomfortable environment.

Tim grunts and leans his head back against the wall.

"Nope. Just catching my breath. I think someone's already in there so you'll have to wait your turn. Especially if you don't want to be seen."

Okay, maybe he wants to scare the guy a little, but in Tim's defense... he's tired and doesn't give a shit. He focuses on his breaths clouding up in the cold air as he pants. He can feel his jeans getting soaked but he can't be bothered to care.

"You make it sound so foreboding," Considering he looked like he had just been drowned, Edmund figured it was just a scare tactic. There were lots of scary things about Godscobh, and a positively soaking young man in worn out Sketchers wasn't one of them, "Are you alright? You look as if you could've crawled straight from the ocean."

Adam nods slowly, leaning on the man as they move to a bench. He sits down and takes deep breaths.

"I don't think it's a concussion. I've had one before and it definitely didn't feel like this."

He looks up at the standing man to give him a confused look.

"And don't apologize for him. Not your fault or mine that he can't handle losing without lashing out. And I can't really judge him for that either."

Even now with a few years of working on it, he still can get explosive with his anger. Honestly, Jones is lucky Adam ended up on the ground because if he had stayed standing, it would've gone very different.

"Plus, I'm pretty sure we both know nothing is too low for him."

He stares after the door Mr. Jones left from, a distant worry beginning to grow that he might've just handed over his resignation purely by staying behind to help. It didn't feel good to know that's who he had been helping, “On the bright side, I can be happy to take this job off my resume. I'd rather be out of a job than work for someone who couldn't handle a little disappointment without laying hands on you."

Thea crosses her arms, suspicious that the man would actually try to fight her on this. Or at least push back against her.

"If I and the other council members have done our jobs right, by the time the press dig something up, we will have the situation under control and the more sociable members can be nicer."

She steps forward, getting into his space.

"Any objections?" She keeps a stoic expression and her tone even but even with a shorter stature, she knows how to intimidate.

"It's just that I'm a little concerned you're thinking of the press digging up dirt in future terms. I'm starting to operate under the assumption it's already happening," Edmund tried to explain, though he spoke as if he was expecting Thea to interrupt him at any moment, "There were a lot of arrests made, which is a good thing, but it means there's a lot of perspectives we can't control. Someone’s brother or cousin is going to talk. And if that story frames the council as secretive, or untrustworthy, before we’re ready…"

"Great, then in the interest of presenting a united front, we're going with my plan. We need to organize grocery and medicine shipments for the next month while Nauticus is out of commission, since I don't really care what 'viewers' think as long as they're getting fed."

He might've been educated, but Edmund did not have experience handling the crises Leticia did. Little fires everywhere.

"The most helpful thing you could do right now is tell the public they're going to be taken care of."

"Fine then. Let me take the administrative lift. I’ll coordinate with the companies, build the comparative cost sheets, and prep releases to go to each neighborhood grocer and pharmacy telling them what their next steps will be," Edmund was a little used to being a go-between for others, and this could show Leticia that he wasn't just another face hidden in a cubicle, "I can set up a daily supply tracker on the city's website too, so citizens can be aware of what they can expect shelves to look like. That'll decrease the waves of panic-shopping for essentials."

The next morning, when he had stumbled back to his room with the sound of a firefight still ringing in his ears, the scent of gunpowder lingering on his hands and a nasty gash on his arm, courtesy of a stray bullet that had grazed him during the chaos, he had tried to keep them from that, as well.

Susan had found him, of course, and rightfully read him the riot act for his recklessness — but still, she had helped him clean himself up and seen to his wounds, and both of them had kept this secret from their younger siblings. Edmund and Lucy had enough to worry about without needing to concern themselves with the safety of their older brother. 

This is why he does what he does, after all — so that this town may become a better place, a safer place for them.

Greeting his brother with a stiff incline of his head and a hand that rubs the back of his own sore neck, Peter nods in assent. “For a few hours, at least. I try to come back every night, but duty calls. This is where I am most needed now.”

There’s a small pause, then, as he stops to think about what he’s just said. That he tries to come home every night. When had been the last time he had seen Edmund, lately? Lucy? With all he has needed to do, all he has felt he must do, it has become harder and harder for him to make the time to see his own family. This realisation makes him feel guilty. Guilty enough to say something, where he might have otherwise allowed this conversation to lie.

“What of you? How have things been for you, Ed?”

@justedmnd

They don't speak of it though, because rather than asking something more direct about Peter's condition or his duty to the town, Ed is serving his brother up a paper cup of coffee and giving him a fond roll of his eyes.

"Decent. Complicated," Far more so after the raid than was typical, but Edmund wasn't opposed to the hiccups that kept his job interesting. More work, more being needed. Neither of those things were a detriment to him, even if they were stressful, "The council, the mayor's circle - well, that's who I see on the daily, but I think this goes for everyone - they're on edge. No one wants to be first to say the wrong thing."

And speaking of saying the wrong thing, Peter is obviously on edge too. Their family is very much included in that "everyone", even when it's not convenient to acknowledge. It's only Ed's first few years into building a career and there's suddenly lots of eyes on his politician clients. Questions about who has shaken hands with who, who's been photographed making deals with who. In a small town like Godscobh, the news kept track of everything, which meant he had to as well.

"I'm sure you've noticed the same," Though Edmund did trust his brother, there weren't many more in this very building that he'd say the same for. It paid to be suspicious in Godscobh, that much was clear. That said, his work wasn't so much about trust as it was about strategy and producing results, much like the Sheriff's, "What does duty call you to do today, then?"

Adam groans at being asked to do math in this moment. "Absolutely not. Help me up."

He slowly sits up onto his elbows, the world spinning though it's slow so he takes that as a win. He holds a hand up to the man helping him and slowly gets to his feet. He leans against the man as he catches his balance, blinking rapidly until the room isn't tilting.

"And there we are," he says, giving a smile, despite him leaning heavily on the man. "All go- uh..."

He leans more and stumbles to keep himself upright.

Figures that would be too far-fetched in his line of work, "I wasn't sure if you'd have a concussion, you shouldn't move too fast," though Ed wasn't a medical expert, he'd had his fair share of fencing and football injuries before and it was nothing to take lightly. Though in his experience, it was tricky to get someone to admit they needed help, "Let's just get you sitting down. I'm sorry for Mr. Jones' reaction, it was incredibly low of him."

"No- Yes- Well they can, but some of them, especially the newer patients, tend to hurt themselves so it's better not to let them until the worse stages of withdrawal have passed." She over explains, knowing full well that she doesn't have to be talking this much, and it probably doesn't even matter.

At the offer for a dry cleaner, though, Sophia perks up immediately, lighting up at the offer.

"Really? That'd be great! I know it's just a sweater and it's not exactly the finest thing, but it was a gift from my sister so I'm a little attached to it."

"Right, I've had a sister lend me a jumper before. She didn't talk to me for a week after when I returned it with grass stains," Edmund's smile tightened, only because he feels as if they're avoiding the obviously more upsetting context of the conversations. The mention of a sister does pique his interest though. He hasn't known Sophia for long since coming to Godscobh, but he would've remembered if she'd mentioned that before, "I don't think you'd mentioned your sister, does she also live in town?"

"If anyone were the same amount of gentlemanly as him I'd be worried about a Stepford wives situation. But you're not off the hook quite yet." She grouses without thinking. There's something quite bitter in her tone. But, well, there's something quite bitter about all of her, she thinks.

"Didn't realize I was on the hook at all," He snorts, pushing the water glass even closer to her in a quiet insistence, "You don’t have to like me, but you do have to drink and eat. Non-negotiable. Consider it my one act of tyranny tonight."

The plates of food are brought over in silence, since Edmund wants to just let the stumbling gazelle in front of him settle down. He likes the American fares despite himself, a tad messy but very filling for a late evening when he feel too overworked to police his own tone or attitude much. Hopefully she'd appreciate the same, "Are you going to tell me your name?"

“But when you’re a kid,” Peter goes on, “they’re never just that. Those are happy places y'know?" He leans his shoulder more fully into the truck, bumping Edmund lightly in friendly way. “Humoring someone like your sister makes you a good brother.” A beat. The closest thing Peter had ever had to sibling were the Lost Boys. His grin returns, softer around the edges. “And hey — Some worlds are only meant to be visited once.” Peter tips his head toward Edmund, eyes slanted but kind. “So tell me,” he says lightly, like it doesn’t matter, “Do you still see that place in your sleep?”

He didn't mean to bring down Peter's pie-in-the-sky attitude, but fanciful, dreamy terms like that just weren't how Edmund saw the world. Or at least, it hadn't been how he saw the world since he was very, very young. "I see a great many foolish things in my sleep, but not many I dwell on for long afterwards. It's no different than seeing my teeth falling out or a test I haven't prepared for. I supposed the snowy fields and golden castles are slightly more appealing, though," Ed laughed, finding it silly to even think of.

Peter did have a strange ability to pull a childlike wonder out of anyone, "So what were your childhood delusions?"

Leticia did not like new faces around city hall, especially when they were not the democratically elected figures she was used to. Hypocritical? Maybe, considering Leticia was someone who'd worked herself to the bone rising up the ranks the normal way.

That was exactly the problem with Edmund, though. Leticia highly suspected he wouldn't be anywhere near city hall if he wasn't riding Peter's coattails.

"I can do it myself, I do this every day!" That was a bit of an exaggeration, but Leticia was not about to let Edmund take over the newest PR campaign to cover the drama down at Nauticus, "This is too large-scale for you."

thought it wouldn't be so hard to work with Leticia if she'd let up an inch to him every once in a while. How'd she get to be the one in charge of him?

"I'd recommend you take the time to look over my pitch deck again, Ms. Moirai. A vital part of my proposal for handling this mess was presenting a united front on the matter. We can't have the viewers thinking we're fighting just as much as the bloody little gangs in this town."