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Mearc lives in a small apartment complex outside the city's busier areas. It's a quiet neighborhood, a peaceful one, with soccer moms power-walking and talking about their kids' sports and people walking their dogs. It's not fancy, by any means; the building's been around since the 70s, but the general atmosphere is one of calm. It is in his apartment on fourth floor that Mearc is waiting when Wren arrives
It takes a while- Uber is not the fastest transportation available, just a convenient one- but Wren arrives with Thai food in tow before long. Arms full, she resorts to the slow thunk of headbutting the door since knocking is impractical. She waits, little arms stuffed full of food, for Mearcstapa to open the door and relieve her of her terrible, spicy burden.
Mearc opens the door and takes some of the bags almost in one motion. "Shoes off at the door." He's dressed roughly as usual--slouchy slightly over-sized t-shirt today, and no socks or boots, but otherwise he's as usual, as she knows him.
"Kay," she chirps, releasing the food and bending to undo her sneakers, rabbit ears wobbling above her head while she does. She's careful- her claws are short, but sharp, and she's not particularly talented with her hands, so she has to take her time. After a moment or two, though, she pads in after Mearcstapa, looking around to get to know the place. "How's your day been?"
The inside of the apartment is very tidy--not in the sense of being completely spotless, but there's a sort of minimalism to the decor. No art on the walls, which are still a pleasant neutral off-white, for example. It's a little austere, and could perhaps even read as cold.
"So far, so good. I slept about thirteen hours last night, honestly, but I got no sleep the night before. So that balances out, right?"
"Pretty sure that is both not how it works and exactly what I'd say," Wren comments, nodding faintly to herself. She approves of the austere sense of the place. "Thanks for having me over, by the way."
"Thanks for coming. Here, let's set up food things in the kitchen."
The kitchen has the same sparsity of design, though there's a few neat gadgets; a good coffeemaker (with about three cups-worth still in the pot), an electric kettle, other odds and ends. He sets the food down on the table, and moves to get paper napkins and plates and plastic silverware.
Wren works to spread out the food, since she doesn't know where anything is. "Disposables, minimal decorations- making sure you don't have to leave anything behind if you have to bolt? Or just how you like things?"
He hesitates at the question, going tense. There's a pause before he answers, letting out a bit of a self-mocking chuckle.
"I'm...slowly in the process of settling. Lux wants to do a painting on one of my walls, and there's a picture from IKEA that Jack got me, in the office. But. Yes, I've been braced to bolt, ever since I left Chicago. I'd been there five years, and decided to leave over the course of a single afternoon. There's a lot that did get left, when I came here."
Wren seems completely without judgment there, nodding. "Makes sense. I've got... clothes? That's about it. I don't put much stock in stuff. It's easy to get, anyhow." She doesn't miss a beat, rolling easily into starting to serve the food to herself and Mearcstapa.
"Do you want anything to drink? I've got milk, coke...beer, but I don't know how a chocolate stout pairs with Thai food..."
It is very obvious which is for her and which for him, as he's chosen a completely non-spicy pad thai, compared to her red curry. There's also crab rangoon and skewers of chicken with peanut sauce.
"Stuff is easy to get, yes. But it can be nice to have a few things that matter. Things to touch to remind you of people and moments. Something to hold onto."
"Coke is good," Wren opts, laughing a little at the beer. "I don't like beer personally, so no worries there. "Well, yeah, but those tend to accumulate on their own. They're not really stuff I need to cram into my apartment, you know?" she digs in, munching away heedless of the spice.
"Teetotaller or just not into beer?" He pours two solo cups of coke before moving to sit and dig in as well.
"Ha! Not into beer. I like sweet drinks." She sips at the coke and munches at the rice and curry in equal parts, snagging little chicken skewers now and then. "Bitter's not really my jam."
"Noted." He nods to himself. "Maybe I should keep some Bailey's or Kahlua around, for when people with a sweet tooth come by."
"That'd be pretty cool. I'd appreciate that." Another bite, a rangoon. For such a tiny thing, she eats well. "I like mixers, too. Fruity stuff. That's my favorite, honestly."
"Ooh. That makes a lot of sense. I like a lot of the colorful cocktails the local gay clubs serve. But that's as much a matter of aesthetic as taste, and probably makes me sound a little superficial." He gestures a little with his chopsticks as he speaks, as if indicating 'surface layer'.
"Not at all. Color is good and important. And taste is, too. You like what you like, and if someone else doesn't, fuck'em," she posits, polishing off her curry and sipping the coke to soothe the heat. "Your pad thai tasty?"
"It's very good, yes. Thank you for grabbing everything. Are you ready to start actually talking about things, or do you need more time and pleasantries before we get into the meat of things?" He tilts his head slightly to one side.
Wren laughs quietly. "Honestly, pleasantries feel like the walk to the gallows. If it was anyone but you, I'd have probably snapped already and demanded we get to the point. So- yeah, I'm happy to switch to Talking."
"Wren, I often feel the same way about pleasantries. That said, I want to establish a couple ground rules. Like the fact that you can stop this conversation at any time. I know I can get pushy and ask questions uncomfortably: I do it because I am not as good at reading people, but also because I'm trying to get useful information to work from. If it helps, we can establish a conversational safeword, or use a stoplight system, to have something in place in case I manage to hit a personal trigger. Alright?"
Wren nods. "If I need a minute or need a break, I'll hold up a finger. As long as we can confirm that needs to be accomodated, I won't need to disappear or turn into a cat or anything."
"Sounds like a plan. When we're done eating, we can move to the couch for comfort, if you'd like. I'm good on touch, if you are." He rests an elbow on the table, chin in his hand. "So. What's up with you, Wren?"
"I presume you mean with, like. Reference to the "Oh, Wren" trigger last night?" She asks. Her ears twitch, but she holds her ground, palms on the table, chin on her folded hands. "I mean, you know a little of what I specialize in. Like, that's just the mundane stuff. There's way more to it than that once you get into what I do for the Court, and it means there's whole blocks of my life that are redacted. And Charlie's- new to all this. I told her, when we started, that there's big chunks of stuff I won't be able to talk about, and that she deserves someone she can share her whole life with, and vice versa, and that I was super delighted to be with her now, but I expected her to keep an eye out for other people that might be a better fit."
"I meant in general, anything you wanted to talk about. But. Have you considered that that expectation sets it up for her that you don't intend for this to last? I know that would set off my anxiety, if I had a partner saying that to me. Also, if I can have the last crab rangoon, you can take the last chicken skewer."
"Deal. And-" Wren's eyes slide sideways. "-I mean... I don't." Mearcstapa knows Wren well enough to know that any visible signs of how she's feeling are intentional. She's fully capable of keeping herself entirely locked away or behind a facade, and that she's allowing herself to react is a conscious act of vulnerability. "She doesn't- shouldn't- be with someone who's got this many secrets. She's sweet and nice and wonderful and she deserves to know her partner as fully as she lets herself be known."
"That doesn't seem to take into account what she wants, only what you have, on your own, decided she deserves. There's a fallacy in there." He smiles, and it's slightly sad and crooked. "One can enter into a relationship with a Winter, aware of what a Winter is and what one does, in the abstract."
"I mean, I'm not gonna like abandon her, Mearcstapa," mutters Wren, poking at her skewer. "I just told her to keep her eyes open. Eventually, she'll find someone who fits better. It'll work itself out. I'm not deciding anything for her. She gets to make her decisions, I just set things up so I wouldn't be an anchor dragging her down."
"Right. But remember that Charlie is very much beholden to anxiety. She's not hearing 'I expect you to abandon me'--which is what you're saying, whether you mean that or not, and probably a product of your own anxiety here. She's likely hearing 'I don't expect this to be a long haul'. And that is a dagger to the chest." He shakes his head. "I'm here with a few biases in this conversation that I should note. The promise to me that Lux broke was not to lie to me, so I may be projecting my own failures to deal fairly with a Winter partner onto you a little bit. But the problem's a different one here."
"Well, that's why I just said it the once, before we started, and then have just focused on being super reassuring and loving and stuff since." Wren explains. "And- ah! I knew it. I knew it couldn't be anything serious," she confirms, as Mearc explains the oathbreaking. "Charlie wants to apologize because she conflated that with something about how Lux and her friend Glass interacted sometime before and thought it meant Lux was working for the Gentry. Which is patently ridiculous."
"It's not ridiculous when you look at those events knowing that Lux and Gallowglass...do have Arcadian history in which Lux did serve in a way that impacted Gallowglass's durance very directly. So, Gallowglass comes out hot in the situation, having already punched Lux once, holding a deep grudge for those events, Lux bears the quality of being an Oathbreaker...without the context of knowing who Lux is now, I can understand how that situation became what it was."
"Oh. Yeah. That's..." Wren sighs. "Less patently ridiculous after all. Okay. I wasn't really presented any of that. It does track, though, both her presumption and the actual situation," admits the little Winter.
"Context is king." He pauses, considering Wren quietly. "You don't tend to view anyone or anything with much charity. There's a lot of worst-case assumptions. Is that wholly a result of you being a Winter, or is there more that goes into that?"
Wren shakes her head. "I prefer pleasant surprises. That's about it. I treat everyone as best I can but expect the worst so everyone's happy and I only get pleasantly surprised. Most of the time." She finally picks up the chicken and pulls a bite off the end.
"Mm. Most of the time?" He repeats the words quietly.
"I mean, every once in a while, someone surprises me with the depths of their actual horribleness. It's not super common, but it happens. So far, only like on the job, so it's never devastated me personally, but it's made for some pretty shocking discoveries now and then."
"Ah." There's a bit of a nod, before he leans in slightly. "And how does living in that state of 'expecting the worst' affect how you view those around you--and yourself? Does the degree to which you benefit from not being surprised outweigh the effect that defaulting to that stance has on your relationships?"
"That's why I put so much effort into treating everyone else so well," Wren reminds. "It's insulation from my own expectations. I don't base how I treat people on what I expect from them- I treat them as well as I can. That only changes if something goes super wrong."
"Mmm. Behavior isn't equivalent to mindset, Wren. And I'm certain you know that." He reaches out to lightly touch the tip of her nose.
Wren blinks at the boop and peers back at him. "Then I'm not sure what you mean by how it affects my relationships. If you aren't counting behavior, it doesn't."
"How you view the relationship is a thing that matters, though. What happens in your head, outside what's going on in meatspace."
Wren looks down for a moment, pondering. "I think I prefer it this way. I can modulate how I think and act, aware that my assumptions aren't always going to be accurate or fair. But if I assumed the best of everyone, those nasty surprises would be absolutely devastating."
"Hm. The sort of defensive stance you're taking makes me almost certain there's been a surprise that's nearly broken you before. And I don't think it's just your nature as a changeling. Is that accurate?"
That leaves Wren quiet for several long moments. "Not a surprise that Wren's experienced. And it didn't almost break- it's why Wren exists. And I'm really sorry, but I'd rather not talk about it more than that."
There's a couple times during that silence where he looks like he's going to say something, his freckles doing slow lazy shifts between greener and redder. But he waits. "I can respect that. Do you want a topic change?"
"... yeah." Small. Eyes averted, ears sagging to either side of her face.
He reaches out, but stops before touching her this time, fingertips hovering over her arm. "Would...touch help or hurt right now? Also, are there any burning questions you've had for me, but been too polite to ask?"
"I dunno, Mearc. It won't hurt. And no, no burning questions..." She trails off, squinting at Mearc a little. "Why do people keep asking me that exact question?"
"Hm? I'm not sure. I just tend to assume that if people aren't asking me questions, it's either a deliberate effort to be polite, a function of the assumptions they're making about the answers, or both. So I was hoping to relax any perceived barrier that was there."
He moves to rest his hand gently on her arm, his hand warm.
"Oh." Her arm's cool to the touch, but not worryingly so. "No, it's just- a tough thing, to open up and talk about that stuff. No questions." She pats his hand awkwardly.
“So. How can I effectively support you, as a friend as well as a business partner? I guess that’s what I’m fumbling with. What do you need?”
Wren waves off the latter comment. "You're an excellent business partner, no work needed there. And I don't know that I need help, exactly, just- wanted to talk things through. Which we did! So you're doing great."
“Oh. Good.” He lets out a small laugh. “It’s hard to tell, sometimes, if I’m being useful enough to the people I care about.”
"Useful enough?" Wren blinks rapidly. "Why in the world would you think you aren't?"
There’s a tiny flinch. “Because there’s a voice in my head that tells me that people only want me around because I’m useful? Sorry, I’m almost as anxious as Charlie is, at the core. I’ve just been working on it for years longer.”
"Oh." Wren frowns quietly. "You're my friend. I always want you around. At least until Charlie gets comfortable enough to do stuff. Then, maybe less so. If only so she doesn't spook!"
There’s a pause, and Mearc first goes green, and then blushes, a blue shade coming to his cheeks. “No, yeah, I’d rather not be around for that?”
Wren grins wickedly. "Well, for now, I kinda plan to keep her for myself until she gets curious about other folx, so. I think you're safe, friend!"
"Though granted, right now, that just means a stockpile of comfy snuggles and adorable blushes."
"... of which I have just collected a new shade~"
“I mean, neither she nor you...I’m not...I don’t generally...girls.” And then he pauses. And again his freckles go green, rather intensely. Wren has been around Mearc enough to know this tends to be a sign of thinking, calculating or processing something.
"Yeah, I kinda gathered, and that's okay. I think Charlie'd die if someone saw her nekkid, anyhow." Wren snickers playfully. "No, I get you, friend. I would never, really."
“Wren, out of curiosity, are you strictly attracted to women?” There is big hesitation in this question.
"Honestly, I dunno? I didn't really get attracted to much of anybody before Charlie. And even then, it's more an interest in making her feel good and appreciating her. Which- is convenient, since she's not looking to actually get in bed yet. This would probably be more strained if I was upset we're not having sex."
“Huh. Is it possible you’re on the asexual spectrum? I have a demisexual friend who talks about relationships like that, sometimes.”
"Maybe," Wren offers, nodding. "I stopped thinking about stuff like gender and sexuality about the time I figured out I could be anyone to anyone." She shrugs. "Kinda bulldozes all the pigeonholes."
“That’s entirely valid. I mostly did the same, with regard to sexuality? I’m queer, and that’s all I need with that.” He shrugs.
That leaves Wren nodding. "Yup. Me, too. Besides, like. I don't really fit into any boxes anymore so."
“Well. You don’t need to, so that’s alright.” He nods. “Charlie...When we talked, I ended up defining non-binary for her, and doing some...infodumping about gender as a thing.”
"Yeah? I hear Annie did the same, but for trans stuff. Charlie's never broached those topics with me, though."
He seems to be chewing on a thought, before nodding. “I’m not certain it’s a topic she’s really taken the time to sit with and examine deeply, insofar as it relates to herself, yet.”
"Maybe not. Well. She has an excellent girlfriend for the exploring, thats for sure. So maybe we can figure some things out."
“As long as you’re open to that, quite possibly.” He nods, relaxing a little.
"OH, of course! How selfish would I have to be to have the ability to help someone find themselves after losing so much and just go "nah, too much work."?"
"Mm. Just don't ambush her with it. I think it's the sort of thing that she'll eventually figure out is there to chew on. Like the court thing, her temper."
"Oh, of course not," Wren comments. "I'm- very careful not to press anyone to be someone or something they're not ready to be. Being as mutable as I am kinda... makes you think twice about that."
He nods, falling silent as he stands to clear the table and package up leftovers (there's at least a little pad thai remaining). It's not a hard silence--more, he's not sure what's next on the agenda.
"What about you? Anything you'd do with a little talking through?" Wren offers, doing her best to reciprocate the favors and attention he's offered.
He thinks for a moment, and his freckles go redder. "Sturm asked me the other day why I never invited her to help with 'my security gig', the way I've done for Teagan, who actively got excited and asked about it. I'm kinda bitter about the idea that...I was supposed to know she's been waiting to have been asked?"
Wren blinks. "Really? She was interested? How were you supposed to know? Did she say anything about getting involved before?" Wren just sounds surprised.
"I knew that in her criminal past, her area of expertise had been breaking and entering, which might have been something she told me with the subtext of wanting me to ask, in retrospect. But failure to read subtext is part of my sundae." He tilts his head upward, and like. Proabably rolls his eyes, but it's impossible to see if the Vantablack voids actually roll.
"I don't know. I like the idea of expanding our team, trying to form a proper company. Hell, we could bring on Alex for digital pen testing, and have a proper red team. That sounds really neat to me, as a thing. But I'm still sort of bitter about the way Sturm brought the topic up."
"I mean, I don't blame you. And of all my talents, B+E isn't really something I can do without cheating." He's probably seen her do that once or twice to make a point- it takes a few seconds, but she rubs her face and switches animals and then she's just gone, fading out of existence entirely. And then the door's opening and she's inside. "So yeah, rounding out the team makes a lotta sense. But so does being bitter. I mean... its not really fair to be mad that someone didn't like... invite you by default through osmotic social pressure or something."
"Mm. Pretty much. The other thing of it is, if we do expand the team, we might need to name this company and do better paperwork about it. Run it like a business. Get an office?"
"That could be neat!" Wren chirps. "It'd be cool to be a little more famous. Is Teagan gonna wanna work with us too?"
"They're interested. And I could talk to Alex, see if she is. I know, because she's talked to me, that she wants something she can do." There's a pause. "Though she might cause friction with Teagan, I've heard they don't like vampires. Hmh."
"Huh? What do you mean, vampire? Were we discussing someone I wasn't aware of?"
"Ah, I thought I'd mentioned that to you about Alex. She's a vampire, but one who was Fae-Touched before she became a vampire, and who is sworn to the Freehold." He sighs, shaking his head. "She's good people, and needs friends--she didn't ask to become what she is. In fact, her experience was, in many ways, a durance in itself."
Wren blinks. "I-"
Blinks again.
"What do you mean, 'became' a vampire. One does not just 'become' a vampire, like one becomes sick, or in possession of an embarrassment of Twilight novels. One is turned."
"I'll engage with the rest after this, but- I need to know about that first."
"That's not my story to tell. But she was turned by someone who was as cruel to her as a Good Neighbor is to one of us. Who did not ask her--or the Sakima, for that matter--before bringing her into a life she despises. Beyond that, ask her yourself."
Wren grimaces hard at that realization. "... okay. I'll- see if she wants to be friends. Ask another time. I don't... want to rub her face in everything."
"She wants friends, period." He smiles slightly. "Have you ever become in possession of an embarrassment of Twilight novels, then? Or inflicted that state on another?"
"I'll offer." It's hard for Wren to promise something she cannot handle alone, and making friends take multiple people. "Uhhhh. I mean. Not Twilight novels, no." EVADE. "But I MAY have orchestrated the discovery of a number of popular books with horrible BDSM practices in the possession of some very naughty religious figures in my day."
"Oh no. Really?" He shakes his head. "I actually made the attempt to read those books at one point."
"They deserved the scandals. It was a red herring but resulted in accurate discoveries," Wren asserts, nodding sternly. "How'd you like them?"
He hesitates before answering. "I found both main characters utterly insufferable, and the way boundaries were treated within the books...more realistic than most people want to admit, but with a romantic framing that really just...just."
Wren scrunches up her face hard. "Gross. Okay, so it's bad as I heard."
"Of course, I'm also someone who would love to read a better-written version of Twilight written to reframe it through a horror lens, exploring the loss of identity of Isabella Swan. But that's neither here, nor there. Speaking of Twilight, were you looped in on the Cordray situation? I can't remember how much, if so."
"Nuh-uh. Like I said, I've felt pretty out of all loops. Only loop I'm in is the Dreamcatcher."
"A vampire who blackmailed Jack and threatened both Jack and Lux. Full name 'Commissioner Anna-Marie Cordray of the Invictus.' It's no longer a problem, and that's why I didn't get any sleep the night before last. Atalo--thrift shop owner, I know you've met him--got tired of her disregarding his shop's hospitality, and incapacitated her. Apparently a stake to the heart actually does work, but it only renders them immobile, not dust. So my partners and I stayed up to watch her go to ash in the sun." He huffs quietly. "Atalo probably isn't counting this as something we owe a favor for; he couldn't destroy her, whereas us doing it was something that the Sakima allowed."
Wren hardens as she hears what the woman did, a bitter cold edge that fits her heavy Winter mantle better than much else ever could. It relaxed when she hears its over. "Good. Well managed. It's gentler than I'd have allowed her. Your solution is better politics. How are you and yours?"
He watches Wren for a long moment, before shrugging. "Lux...I think it hit their Clarity pretty hard, and I can understand why. It was...she took a lot longer to burn than I had anticipated. Um. Jack's feeling a lot safer, which is good. Did you hear he was named a Joyeux? So he'll probably take care of Lux."
And nothing about his own feelings.
"Huh. I'd have figured Jack the softer spot. What about you, though?" She asks.
"It's not about soft, with Lux, I don't think." He pauses and sighs hard enough to visibly deflate, his freckles going dimmer all at once, more red lingering than green. "Wren, have you ever killed anyone? I won't ask for details on it."
She grimaces, tilting her head back and forth, transparently navigating vagaries of specific responses before settling on, "Yes."
"Three nights ago, I hadn't." He looks down at his hands. "And I stand behind having done it. It was necessary. Atalo staked her for getting aggressive with Rosalyn--do you know her? Autumn, rides a unicorn--in his shop. Using a vampiric version of Kenning, and then threatening her in an attempt to control Atalo. She needed to be ended. And I relished the idea of doing it. At the time."
"It doesn't fix anything. Nothing gets better. Its done, and then they're gone except for the mess, and you're still there. But messy. It doesnt do anything but carve their potential off. There's no grand catharsis, just. Maybe a little relief as a side dish. Usually the main course is guilt or fear, even after." Wren recites quietly.
"Sound about right?"
"Yeah. It sounds about right." He nods quietly, resting his arms on the table and his chin on his hands, and closing his eyes.
"... it's a price paid for the safety of others. That's why it's important not to just callously do it. It takes a toll, so you make it count, and you learn who can handle hearing how it felt after. Some people can't handle hearing how bad it makes you feel." And some people can't handle hearing about the other way.
"Jack and Lux feel safer now. So it's good." Which isn't the same as doing it for the safety of others, is it? Mearc stands, walking over to the sink to grab a glass of water for himself. He pauses, gesturing at the sink, then at Wren. "Want some, too?"
She waves off the offer and sips her coke again. "I can handle stuff like that. Safer than most, cleaner than most, better than most. If something like that comes up again, and it's too much- don't force yourself. It can be handled."
"Thank you for the offer. This one...it was very personal. I don't think I could have felt it was resolved, without seeing her go with my own eyes. I have her ashes, still. I'm trying to decide what to do with them. Lux vetoed drinking them in coffee."
"Yeah, that's gross, and there's probably some very real reasons not to want to have her inside you. Scattered over water is my vote. Don't leave them someplace they could be collected."
"I could sell them at a Market, get value from her." He huffs. "I'll figure something out."
She nods. That's his job, after all. "In other news. I asked for an interview from the Knights."
"A job interview, or...?" He tilts his head to one side.
"Yeah. Sun Banisher's kind of right up my alley."
He cracks a bit of a smile, lifting his glass of water as if in a toast. "You're not wrong about that, especially knowing you have the stomach for such work. Look at us, growing up and getting responsible."
"I don't have the job yet," chuckles Wren. But she toasts back anyhow. "Besides, we do TRY to avoid needing to silence permanently. There's a lot of other solutions."
"There are." He nods, then tilts his head thoughtfully at her. "Do you have plans to join a motley, maybe something with Charlie?"
Wren winces faintly. "... Charlie asked me to swear an oath with her a couple weeks ago. I wouldn't let her swear something we could break without even trying."
"Mm. Makes sense, you're more cautious than that."
Wren nods, sighing. "I just- I didn't want her promising to love me and then... breaking her oath without doing anything, you know? Or breaking it because she had an opportunity to get me a smoothie and didn't or something."
"Yeah. Don't let her make the sort of mistake I made with Lux. But, uh. If you ended up in a motley, what would you want it to be like? Something as...family-oriented as Direct Action, or...?"
Wren shakes her head. "I could swear a personal oath if I needed to tie with Charlie later. I just... want to make sure she won't regret it later. I'd probably want something more functional. Like, people call on Direct Action when something Fucked needs Fucked Up. I don't want to be THAT, but something LIKE that where it's obvious when they oughtta call us in."
"I don't plan on creating a motley with my partners, either. For similar reasons. I'd like to build a group that specializes in Ironside problem-solving. That's sort of my dream set-up. Have you watched Leverage?"
Wren shakes her head. "Nope. Should I?"
"...yes. For multiple reasons. It's on Amazon Prime now." He grins. "But, uh. It's about a team of hypercompetent people being hypercompetent within their fields, together."
"Oh! That's pretty cool." Wren takes her phone out and adds a Note to check out Leverage. "Is that parallel to your idea for a motley?"
"Something like that, yeah. I don't know if you'd, uh. Be interested in something like that, but someone who's a Sun Banisher might be into that. I'm just kinda saying."
"No, I think I probably would." She pauses, then leans dramatically over the table. "Do we get to do the "son of a bitch, I'm in" thing if I decide I'm on board?"
"Well. We'd need at least one more person to give this idea legs. Ideally more, honestly."
"Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo..."
"... you're putting together a team."
He leans in. "I'm putting together a team of highly skilled individuals."
Wren leans back dramatically. "I told you when you left me bleeding in Denmark that we were through, 'stapa. I'm not the same person anymore. I have children now. A family. You're gonna have to find someone else."
She is, for the record, an extremely capable ham.
"Fine. Maybe I need to look elsewhere for a social expert. I wonder if Annie's available..." He's not actually completely familiar with the trope referenced, but he'll fake it for all he's worth, freckles warming brightly.
Wren smothers a giggle and pulls her phone out. "Here. This is homework. We should do this again after you've familiarized yourself with the trope. It'll be way more entertaining, I promise." She sends Mearc a link for later.
"I'm sure. But, uh. You'll keep your ear to the ground for anyone else who might be interested in this sort of work?"
"Absolutely, though. I mean, it sounds like you have a good start just in the people we've already discussed today."
"Mm. Maybe. Anything else on the docket for today?"
Wren shakes her head, but smiles. "It was good to spend time with you. I'm sorry I didn't seek it out sooner."
He stands, and holds open his arms to offer a hug.
He gets the hug!
And it is a surprisingly big warm hug. Like. Mearc doesn't do that in public, but when in private, he's apparently a pretty touchy person. Who knew?
Wren didn't! But now she does! She hugs back, and she's quite snuggly. "I'll see you again. And keep you appraised!"
"Excellent. All goes according to plan." He grins. "Take care of yourself, Wren."
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