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If Simon's texted Calamity in the past week, he hasn't got a text back. Until this evening, when he gets a text from them.
C: got info. 9th+cayuga
Short and to the point. Practically giving him orders, though...
Only a few minutes later, a reply:
S: When?
C: now?
A bit longer passes by, this time.
S: Mr. Dubois will meet you in an hour.
C: fine
An hour later finds Calamity on the corner of North 9th street and West Cayuga street, across from the more northern entrance on the east side of Hunting Park. They're leaning against a concrete storefront facade, one foot resting against the wall, the cherry of their cigarette illuminating their pale face as they smoke.
The same car Calamity had been in before pulls up. Sleek, expensive, dark, tinted windows. It idles. Waiting, apparently.
This time, they don't hesitate, and carefully push away from the wall, scraping their cigarette out against the concrete. It goes into their battered pack that they always seem to have on them. It takes them a bit to walk over - their steps are slow and deliberate.
It's not until they've slid into the back seat and closed the door that they tug their hood back and look over at where Simon is presumably sitting. Their eyes are a little glassy, their skin sallow and greyish. Like they're sick, or using. Or they've lost a lot of blood. But there's no bruises or cuts anywhere visible on Calamity's wiry arms.
"Hey." Their voice is slightly hoarse, and they don't bother to smile or be otherwise polite.
Simon is, indeed, sitting on the other side of the back seat. He's dressed in a dark suit, dark framed glasses perched on his nose. A drink in hand, of course. The driver pulls off, heading down the street.
He eyes Calamity quietly for a long moment. "You look like shit."
"Feel like shit." Calamity shrugs, acknowledging the truth of it without getting defensive. "C'n I have a drink?"
He reaches out to push a discreet button that opens up a compartment to show a fairly stocked mini bar. He makes a 'go on' gesture.
The bottles clink together as Calamity mixes themself a drink (vodka and that pomegranate juice) with shaky hands, and they take a sip with a small sigh. "Most of my info's from northeast, haven't branched out too much." Another small sip. "But. K an' A're buttin' heads with the Mob. Couple'a shootouts, JBM's been gettin' weapons to both sides, 's not helping anything. Which's probably what they want. Keeps both of 'em off JBM's backs, you know?"
He takes a sip of his own drink as he listens, nodding slowly. "No, can't say I blame them for playing both sides. Do you know what the K & A and the Mob are fighting over?"
"Territory. 'S no real border between 'em, so K an' A treats all the Irish shops like their turf an' the Mob treats all the Italian ones like theirs. No matter where they are."
"Makes sense," he says thoughtfully. "Did you get any names of people involved?"
"Like in the shootouts?" Calamity raises their eyebrows. "Or the ones sellin' 'em shit?"(edited)
"Anyone."
"...No. 'S a real good time to keep your head down, places like Kensington. Not t'be askin' questions about who's pissing off who." They give Simon a level stare and take a drink.
He stares right back at Calamity, brow arching. "It is what I am paying you for, isn't it? Information."
"Yeah, an' I'm not gonna risk gettin' fucking shot over it." There's a beat, and they break eye contact first. "See what I can do. Might take me a bit."
"Perhaps I misjudged your skills," Simon notes with a trace of disappointment, before taking another sip of his drink. "I can be patient. Though you have left me hanging for over a week."
"Yeah, I was busy." It's very much a brush off. They take a drink, but sneak a look to see how Simon receives that.
"...Think I met a friend'a yours though."
Simon does not look pleased, but the latter comment makes him pause. "Oh?"
"Dandelion. She'n I...got to talking. Said she knew a Simon who's 'awful'." Their mouth twitches upward.
That makes him pause, eyes narrowing faintly at them. "...I see. Where did you run into her?"
"We uh...were kinda thrown together accidentally." They're clearly too exhausted to think up a good story. "Part'a why I look like shit."
There's a few seconds of silence before Simon asks, "Was she hurt?"
"She kicked ass." Calamity's face lights up a little, and they give him a tired smile as they finish their drink. "I think a little, but she's got...people to help her, I guess. Saw her last night, she looked better'n I do."
He nods, seeming content to leave it at that. He regards Calamity more intently, lips pursed with displeasure. "How were you injured?"
Calamity visibly closes off."...What's it to you?"
"You are my retainer," he says with a tilt of his head. "If you cannot work efficiently, it is a concern of mine that needs to be dealt with."
"I can work fine," they huff. "An' I heal up fast, anyway."(edited)
"Do you?" he asks with casual airiness, despite the intense stare.
"Yeah?" Calamity frowns over their glass as they finish their drink. "Always have. Why's it matter to you?"
He shrugs. "Curiosity. I am a very curious person. Though it makes one wonder if you have any other... oddities."
"D'you?" It's demanding, and their stare is intense.
Simon says nothing, just arches a brow while the two have their staring contest.
Calamity goes a good few seconds without blinking, their pale eyes boring into Simon's. But eventually their gaze slides off him and they sit back in their seat a little, no longer facing him at all.
"What'd happen if I did? Have...'oddities', or whatever."
"Then you would be far more useful to me, wouldn't you?"
"Depends on what I've got goin' on, doesn't it." Calamity huffs. "You 'fraid of fire?"
He considers them a moment. "No, I'm not."
They take a second to look around the car, and give their head a small shake, like they've changed their mind about something. "...'M a firestarter."
He doesn't bat an eye. "You start these fires psychically, I assume?" He reaches for a bottle to refill his glass.
"Yeah, sure." Calamity shrugs, extra casually. "Sometimes."
"Show me," Simon challenges.
Another look around the car. "Right now?" They set their empty glass back on the bar and shove their hands in their sweatshirt pockets.
"Are you not able to control it enough to produce a small flame?" Simon asks, genuinely curious.
"Small...'s relative. 'F it's already somewhere around I can control it, but smallest I can make 's like...like a torch?" Calamity responds to his genuine curiosity with more openness.
"But uh..." They pull a beat up zippo lighter from their pocket and flick it open. The tiny flame dances as they breath in, then out.
Simon shifts in his seat, turning to face him more as he watches the flame intently.
The fire snakes upward, spiraling like rope, and curls over before it gets to the ceiling of the car. Calamity reaches their other hand out and the fire rope curls around it, bathing their palm in flame. They turn their hand over, flames licking between their fingers, and stare at it for a second, lost in the fascination of it all, before they come to their senses and make a fist, snuffing the fire out. They flip the lighter closed with a metallic clack and the back seat is plunged into darkness again.
Calamity shoves the lighter back into their pocket and gives Simon a nervous glance. "...Wouldn't'a showed you if you didn't know Dandelion."
Simon stares, watching the flame dance through the air and over their hand, the light reflected on their glasses. He looks... almost impressed. And thinking. Thinking very intently. Scheming.
"Dandelion wouldn't have admitted to knowing me if you were normal," Simon replies, focusing back on Calamity's face. "Aren't you a fascinating young person."
Something shifts slightly in Calamity's expression, when Simon looks almost impressed. Their nervousness turning to something...like pride? (something he might want to roll empathy on?)
"She sp'cifically told me she wasn't gonna introduce me to you. 'Cause you're awful." They flash a grin at him.
"She's not wrong," he replies with a shrug, gulping down more booze. "And you can... create fire, as well? Without needing some sort of accelerant?"
"Yep." Pride creeps into their voice still more. "An' I can...hurt people with it, too." Their voice gets a little quieter. "Don't like doin' that though. Plus it's kinda hard to keep a lid on that psychic shit, when you're throwing fire at shit."
"Of course," Simon agrees, lifting a hand. "No need to stoop to such violence. But... how do you feel about property damage?"
Calamity raises their eyebrows. "Depends on the property. But I'm listenin'."
"Nothing specific, currently. Just asking for what you would or wouldn't be willing to do, in the future. I'm sure you know full well the usefulness of having a place mysteriously burn down--either to send a message, to destroy evidence... or plenty of other reasons."
A shrug. "Yeah, sure. 'S what I do anyway, ain't got a problem bein' paid for it."
"Good." His lips twitch upwards a bit more, before Simon pauses. "How old are you, Mx. Calamity?"(edited)
"Why's it matter?" They narrow their eyes.
"Merely curious, as ever."
"Twenty one."
They meet his eyes. They're sure small for twenty one, but they seem to be telling the truth.
Simon considers them for a moment, then takes another sip of their drink. "Take a week off to recover from whatever... injury you have suffered. Then I expect you to get to work."
"Yessir." Their gaze drops again, and they run their fingers through their hair. "Anything else you want me to do, 'sides findin' out names?"
"Not currently. I might see what I can uncover myself, and point you into a specific direction soon." He drains his glass as the car pulls up to the curb.
"Cool." They swing the door open before the car has fully stopped, and clamber out. For a second, they wobble, and grab the door for support, blinking rapidly. But then they hold up a hand to Simon to say goodbye.
"See you 'round."
Simon watches Calamity wobble with faintly pursed lips. "Goodbye," he replies, watching him until the door is closed. Once it is, the car pulls back off into the street.
Calamity watches him leave, leaning against the chain link fence that encircles this bit of Hunting Park, and makes sure the car's entirely out of sight before starting the slow trip back home.
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