Chamillionaire

[Link Volta]

Prompt List

• Dragon
• Apple
• Hazard
• Shopping
• Drunk
• Give Up
• Saint Patrick's Day
• I Can't
• Do Not Disturb
• Death

[Link Volta]

A P P L E

Link sat in a tall chair at the kitchen - table? Counter? It was white marble, contrasted starkly against the darkest wooden accents that money could buy. He shifted uncomfortably, if only because his traveling companion was bouncing around the kitchen freely instead of sitting where the ancient mage had told her to sit - and stay. Link noticed he hadn't issued such orders to him, and he supposed that perhaps their reputations had preceded them both. Nicolette was currently standing in front of a decorative wine rack that boasted a small selection, picking each bottle up, mispronouncing the name, and asking repeatedly "Do you think they'd notice if I took this?".

"Yes, Nicolette, I think they'd notice," he finally snapped, slamming his palms down on the pristine white counter. His posture had shifted briefly; from relaxed to angry, and then back to relaxed as he moved to lean on his elbows. "Sorry," he said, the apology terse as it escaped his clenched teeth. "But you're kind of fucking driving me crazy."

The blonde shrugged. She'd jumped when he'd reacted, but it was more the sound than his irritation that had caused her reaction. "I'd hate to travel with me, too," she said in response, her voice smooth and girlish as she shrugged, and with the roll of her shoulders, the shock was forgotten and she went right back to snooping. "Do you think - "

"I swear to Christ - " he warned.

She paused for effect, glancing over her shoulder and throwing him a smirk. "Do you think," she started again, "that the big bad is actually gonna come for her?"

Link inhaled, leaning back in the chair. Wasn't that the fifty-thousand dollar question, though. The way he didn't immediately throw something derisive Nicolette's way was taken as an invitation for company, and the woman stopped her ransacking of the kitchen and went to the chair next to him. She didn't climb into it, but she rested against it, eyes attentive as the Fae visibly considered his answer.

"I've been around a long time, kid," he said finally. "And I've had more than one occasion where I wished I could run across a particular this or that."

"So, is that a yes or..."

He smiled, but as usual, the smile did not meet his eyes. "He's absolutely going to try," he replied finally.

The usual humor wasn't present in her face; it had faded when Link had given her that carnivorous grin. It wasn't that the fake smile was off-putting; on the contrary, she was used to that. It was that he'd actually considered what she'd asked, and answered based on his own experiences and feelings. And, while she couldn't rightly say what his feelings were most of the time, she knew that he had a history that she'd purposely avoided because she had to work with him, and some things she just knew that she didn't need to know. That and Eithne had quietly warned her if she wanted to work around him comfortably, she wouldn't dig.

"But that's why we're here," he said, noticing the change in her expression. "So that trying is as far as he gets." He placed his hand on the chair next to him, pushing it away from the counter and inviting her into it by the action. "It's going to be fine," he assured her, dragging the "i" in fine out like one would do with a worked up teenager. "Trust me, it'll be in capable hands after this."

Boy if she only knew. Link had dealt with Marcus a few times over the years. He was formidable in almost every incarnation - and the ones where he was not, that woman of his had no issue stepping in to fill the shoes. He didn't go out of his way to avoid them, but he tended to do his darker business in a corner of the Earth that they weren't. It was just easier that way - they both had a bone to pick with Fae, and Link wasn't interested in getting caught in the politics of it all.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," Gareth said, finally coming in. The other man was with him, not quite in tow, but tagging along all the same. While Gareth looked darkly serious (as he usually did), the other man looked interested in the same way a cat does when they notice their toy sitting in the hall minding its own business.

"So what is this message that had to be delivered in person?" Nicolas asked, gliding past Gareth. He somehow exuded more ownership of the space than the Triste did, if that were possible. It was the way he moved. He paused in front of the wine rack, then pulled two of the bottles out and swapped them around. He didn't say anything, but it was obvious he knew they had been moved. He did not miss when the Unseelie turned slowly and glared at the human, or the fact that the human stared straight ahead with a smile plastered on her face like she had no idea what was happening.

"Well, you already know about Ta-"

"The Dark Man," Link interrupted. If Taranis was really out and about, saying his name was just as good as summoning him, and as much as he'd have loved for that audience, he didn't think they'd keep the upper-hand for long. Especially not if he was searching for his lost bauble, which to him, Deja absolutely was.

Gareth rolled his eyes. "Yes, unfortunately. I know the ugly story in its entirety," he admitted. He hadn't spoken to Jill since she'd fled, which was doing wonders for his stress. He knew that Rebecca wasn't with her, at the very least, and he trusted the psychic to tell him if anything new developed, but he somehow doubted that Jill would be telling anyone anything besides Ben for a while. At least Ben was capable. He could rely on him to keep them both out of the blast area, at the very least.

"Well, I don't," Nicolas said, holding his hands up. One of them clutched a bright red apple, which he would've shined on his shirt had he been wearing one, which he of course was not. Instead, he bit into it, glancing around the room. He caught Nicolette staring at him and winked at her, which nearly sent her straight out of her chair. The human sighed, a dreamy look on her face; her dark Fae companion rolled his eyes.

"I'll fill you in later," Gareth said, holding a hand up before Nicolas got the opportunity to play catch-up. He'd ask a thousand questions and they'd be there all day. "What was so important that you had to fly all the way out here and tell me to my face?" he demanded.

Link nodded, sitting up. "Ah, there's that directness I've heard so much about," he said. Every word he spoke sounding biting - or maybe that's just how he was. Gareth knew who he was in a vague sense, but he couldn't recall ever having run into him directly over the years. Still, he had an immediate distrust for him, and it wasn't just because he was a dark Fae. He read Changeling, but the energy around him said Trickster - and in Gareth's opinion, that was worse.

"On with it, boy," Nicolas said, spitting a seed into the sink as if to punctuate the order. Of all the men in the room, he was probably in the best position to call Link "boy" and it be true in proportion to age.

"Deja said that your third is here. Malachai. He's at the Excelsior Hotel. He's going by Marcus this time, and he's already found his lady love, so he'll be ripe for fighting. I guess Deja has known this entire time, she just didn't feel it pertinent to tell you because - well, I mean," he said, gesturing vaguely. They all knew what he meant - she was fucking crazy. It was useless to predict the why.

"What?" Gareth said. His blue eyes grew wide, and he snapped his head to look at Nicolas. "Did you know about this?"

Nicolas, who was brushing bits of apple off of his muscular chest (which Nicolette did not miss), looked up, surprised by the accusatory way Gareth spoke to him. "What? No! Why would I have known about this? I just don't do 'shock', Gareth, it's not very attractive," he said blithely. He turned to look at Link, brow arched. "How sure are you?"

"Very," he said. "She's not in a position to lie. He's coming for her, Nicolas. Or, she thinks he is, which is still a hell of a motivator."

"We're going," Gareth said, cutting the social gathering short. "Nicolas, find a shirt. We're going now."

"Aw," Nicolette said, deflated as the greying man shook his head and left to find said shirt. She slid out of her chair. "Well, glad we could be of service, Mr. Rivers," she said to Gareth, tilting her head up to look at the ridiculously tall man. "And now, Link? Next task. I gotta go see a bitch about a bottle that doesn't belong to her," she said, straightening her shirt.

"Best of luck," Link said, giving a tip of his fingers to the Triste, who half-nodded in response. He could see the wheels turning in the man's head, and did not envy him the undertaking that was coming. He'd rather supervise Nicolette every day for the rest of his time with Diamond than deal with any of the shit that was about to hit the fan this time.

"After you," he said, opening the door and allowing Nicolette to pass. This was the first he'd heard about a bitch and a bottle; he planned exactly how to annoy her with the questions as they got into their rental car and backed out of the driveway.