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Kelly ([personal profile] gonerunningaway) wrote2013-10-05 03:30 pm

Mnemosyne, Chapter Two: Polyhymnia

Title: Mnemosyne, Chapter Two: Polyhymnia
Fandom: Person of Interest
Rating: NC-17
Word Count (this chapter): 1,094

Erato


“You’ll accompany me to meet Ms. Marinos of Marinos Industries as John Rooney,” Harold said. He allowed his mouth to twitch slightly in displeasure, since he was speaking to Reese over the phone. “You’ll need to wear a tie. You should have a dark blue one that would go nicely with your suit.”

A pause; then Reese said, “I was thinking about wearing that dark grey shirt with the dark red tie.”

Harold frowned. “You can wear what you’d like, of course, Mr. Reese. We’ll need to get to the hotel by one. It’s a lunch meeting, so you might want to eat before.”

“Why Harold, I think you’re learning.” He sounded amused. “I’ll pick something up on my way to change. How violent do you think they might be?”

He considered the question. “Ms. Marinos tends to have two bodyguards with her at all times. Her assistants’—that’s plural, not merely possessive—email history indicates they’ve hired a third.”

“So the threat is to her.”

“I shouldn’t need to remind you that we’ve been doing this too long to assume either way,” Harold said. “I’ll meet you at your apartment at eleven forty-five. Bear can stay here.”

Bear perked up at the sound of his name; then he put his head back down at the word ‘stay’. Harold tossed him his ball.

“I’ll be ready.”

John, as promised, wore the slate grey shirt and crimson tie. Harold sighed at the sight.

“I’d think you would know how to tie a Windsor knot by now,” he muttered, already untying it.

John smirked. “Maybe I just like having you do it for me.”

“There are other potential uses for this tie, Mr. Reese.” Harold had the pleasure of seeing John’s pupils dilate. “Unfortunately, none of them are appropriate at the moment.”

“There’s later,” John suggested once he’d cleared his throat.

“Perhaps after we’ve taken care of Ms. Marinos’ problem.” Harold finished and stepped back, nodding in satisfaction. “Much better.” That was, it was better if Reese had to wear a tie at all.

Reese looked him up and down. “You make me feel underdressed.”

“Considering that you work for me and I am worth considerably more than you, Mr. Rooney, it’s appropriate,” Harold said tartly. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

“After you, Mr. Crane,” Reese said with a little flourish of a bow.

The car, booked under John Rooney’s name, was idling at the curb. They got in the back, one on either side, and stayed quiet for the ride. Harold didn’t trust the privacy screen to keep things away from the driver, and he hadn’t swept the car for bugs even if he did.

The car pulled into the small circular drive at the front of the hotel, stopping in front of the simple, if well-made, door. The driver opened the door for Harold, and Reese let himself out. They walked through the doors together, Harold’s ornate cane tapping along the travertine floors. After they turned down a short hall, they came to a desk.

“Mr. Crane and Mr. Rooney, here for Ms. Marinos,” Harold said to the headwaiter.

“This way, sirs,” he murmured.

They followed him toward the back of the restaurant, stopping at a little nook a table sat in. Natasa Marinos sat at the table, her bodyguards—three, Harold noted—stood behind her, all at parade rest. He knew from the basic background research he’d conducted on the bodyguards that two were SEALs and one was a Marine; the Marine stood closest to the rest of the restaurant.

“Ms. Marinos,” Harold said, pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand. “This is my asset manager, John Rooney.”

She inclined her head. “Mr. Crane.” She didn’t acknowledge Reese. Harold had expected as much.

Throughout their conversation, Reese unobtrusively used a variety of phones Harold had provided him with to bluejack all the bodyguards’ phones, as well as Ms. Marinos’ with his own phone. He’d have to figure out how to listen in on all of them when they were separated from each other, but Harold had confidence in his abilities. In the event that Reese couldn’t manage all the lines, Harold had plans of his own that he’d put into place, but Reese had been doing this long enough that Harold’s confidence should be justified.

He glanced at Reese every so often, mainly when Reese spoke. The lines of John’s neck were disrupted by his shirt collar. The way he usually wore his shirts, with the top two buttons undone, showed them much more smoothly.

The lunch took nearly three hours. Harold picked up the check, as Crane would in nearly any situation. Ms. Marinos left first, Harold and Reese close behind her and her bodyguards. The car reserved under John Rooney’s name swung around shortly after Ms. Marinos’ own Town Car was brought up by a valet and one of her bodyguards slid into the front seat.

As soon as they were in the back of the car, Harold texted John. He still didn’t trust privacy screens, but the driver couldn’t well pick up on their texts. {Take your tie off, please.}

John gave him an amused look. All the same, he loosened the knot of his tie, slowly drawing it down until the tail of the tie came loose and he had the tie completely off.

{Thank you. Unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt.}

This time, John’s gaze was more heated. Harold kept his expression bland, despite the fact that John’s compliance, unbuttoning his shirt as he looked at Harold, was definitely something Harold would have to remember some night when they didn’t have a number.

{Thank you, Mr. Reese. I would appreciate it if you put on a white shirt when we return to your loft.}

John texted him back that time. {Why Harold, I almost think you get off on telling me how to dress.}

Harold didn’t bother texting him back; he just gave John a look, corners of his mouth turned slightly up and eyebrows barely lifted. John let out a soft sigh, sinking into the seat, and fisted his hands in his tie.

“Careful, Mr. Rooney,” Harold said. “You might damage the tie.”

John stared at him, as if he couldn’t believe that Harold would be concerned about clothes when they were having this conversation. Clearly, then, he had forgotten aspects of Harold’s character. He’d have to remind him later. Perhaps a new suit, making John stand absolutely still as he measured and pinned. Yes, that would do nicely.



Thalia

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