[It sure doesn't look like much. It's in a neighborhood that's seen better days, shadowy even during the day, and the only indicator that there's a bar down those few steps at all is a switched-off beer sign in a grimy window. But Mick is leaning against the wall next to it, so it's clearly the right place. He doesn't say a word before jerking his head and leading the way down three steps and inside.
The inside isn't much better, that's probably black and white tile on the floor but who can tell, it's too dark inside to know for sure. The oak bar is scuffed but solid, rows of bottles behind it look well-used, the only light comes from beer signs on the walls and whatever makes it through the window in the front, it's a beat-up place that's seen a lot of years.]
[Len looks around, takes it all in. He never makes decisions like this quickly, and Mick might get impatient as he goes over practically every inch of the place. He's considering options, visualizing. Finally he turns to Mick.]
What are the terms? And what about the living space? Is it the whole building that we'd take?
[If Mick hadn't gotten used to Len's slow, careful, methodical way of making decisions by now, he would have lost his mind years ago. He doesn't hurry him, just perches on the stool at the end of the bar and waits until Len makes his way back around.]
[Len isn't afraid of the work necessary to rehabilitate a dump like this. He and Mick are both handy and unafraid of getting dirty. They can handle basic cleaning and renovations if needed.
Len all but bounces as he comes over the the bar and lands against it, flashing a fierce grin.]
It's a total dump. I love it. How soon can we take it off the old man?
[He can't help grinning back, a little absurdly pleased maybe that he'd turned up a place so ideal.]
Guy wants it for a song. Says it's not about the money, just didn't wanna see it going to some entrepreneurs with big ideas about ginger martinis, he said.
[Whereas when they move in, they won't even wipe the grime off the windows. That's years' worth of grime, it's seen a lot, the place is perfect the way it is, for what they want.]
Well, we've got big ideas, but they don't involve ginger martinis. It's perfect.
[Len really is excited, and he loves to see Mick's grin of pride as well. He turns away again and moves around the bar to the back, touching the baseball bat that's sitting under the bar. It's been there so long it's worn a groove in the shelf]
You did good finding this place, Mick. How bad's the upstairs?
[As much as he loves the grime and dinginess of downstairs, the place where he'll live will likely get a makeover]
Storage pretty empty. We'll need supplies, this place has been running on a string. Apartments...
[He shrugs. They've stayed in some pretty terrible places, and the apartments are a little on the grimy side, but nothing that couldn't be fixed up over a weekend.]
[Len nods. They both know how bad that bolt hole had been. If it wasn't as bad as that, they could definitely deal with it] So long as the rats aren't as big, I can cope.
And with some financial help from our investors, we can resupply and be open for business soon enough. Lisa brought some cash along, and I've been talking to a merc named Brock Rumlow who says he wants to invest.
[Mick absorbs all of this without much reaction other than a few slow nods. Investors might be risky, but then this isn't a job, or a score where they need to keep a sharp eye on everyone else involved, make sure everyone's playing by the rules and no one's lining up a knife in the back. This is—amazingly—a legitimate business venture. Besides, they both know mercs. Can't trust 'em, but can work with 'em.]
Sounds like a deal. Unless you want to comparison-shop. Won't find another place like this.
[Len doesn't trust Rumlow, but he'll take his money and make a deal. It's just business.]
I've been shopping. I've seen some shitholes, but none good like this. And I've seen some nice places - too nice, and too expensive. I don't think we'll find anywhere like this.
[They're good at business. Good at keeping things just business, too, and this place might not be such a risk for that. The incentives again. Mick nods, trying to pretend he isn't as pleased as he is, trying to pretend he isn't so pleased that Len is happy with it.]
[Len considers him for a moment, leaning on the bar next to Mick and surveying the place that will soon be his domain.
Mick's not really a business man. Not that Len is, but Len is good at making deals, being charismatic, thinking things through. He bumps his shoulder against Mick's bicep, smiling up at him]
[There are a few moments when Mick's face softens and he's tempted to bend, rest his forehead against Len's, find his lips, but instead he just leans back into the shoulder, and then straightens.
The owner is in the partitioned space on the second floor that serves as an office. They'll need to increase security everywhere, that much is obvious, but they'll have the time. And the old man is delighted to meet Mick's partner, shakes his hand with both hands, waves them both into chairs and pours them all vodka.
The terms are simple, the deal is already generous but Len goes back and forth a few times for the look of the thing, and at the end, another drink. The whole thing can't take more than half an hour before the building—the bar, the second floor, the apartments above—is all theirs.]
[Len's charming and warm as he deals with the older man. He can be ruthless in business, but he knows the terms are already generous, so he doesn't dicker too much. He is very well aware that he's hurting for capital compared to his usual situation, though, so he has certain limits he simply can't cross.
The vodka is good, and Len feels the flush of victory as he drinks his glass. When they're done, they walk out of his 'office' and catches Mick's hand as they walk out, twining their fingers together and arching a brow at him.] Did you tell him that we were 'together'?
Told him we were partners looking to keep busy. He decided what that meant.
[Although exactly what he'd decided it meant, Mick isn't sure. He'd certainly looked delighted when Len walked in, and said they looked like a good, solid pair. Mick had already become 'Misha' to him, and Len had become Lyov, after a few moments' thought, and Mick had a feeling that's what they'd remain, to the old man.
Mick's fingers tighten a little on Len's as they step back into the dingy bar. They'd agreed to take over in a week, give the former owner time to pack up and say his farewells, but the place is theirs. There's a strange, disorienting sense of grounding as he glances around again.]
He thinks we're partners, Mick. But not partners the way we're partners. [Len turns and looks up at the other man, fingers still entwined with Mick's. He's not smiling, though there is a twist to his lips.] He thinks we're married.
[Oh. Maybe he should have seen that coming. It was true that one of the questions he'd been asked was if he was seeing anyone, and as soon as Mick had mentioned his partner, those questions had stopped and 'when are you bringing him to meet me' had started.
...which, now that he thinks about it. Hm.
Mick's face has always been more expressive than Len's, and now he looks uncertain, a little off-balance.]
...should I tell him we're...it's not like that? Can go back up, if you...
[Okay, maybe it was cruel, but Len had really wanted to see how Mick reacted. It was easier to gauge his partner's reactions and decide how he should pretend to feel, then to show his own emotions and hope that they synced with Mick. Maybe he was more sensitive and uncertain of his footing with Mick than before, or maybe he had always been this uncertain, and only now there was more to worry about.
As he Mick offers to go back upstairs, obviously thrown off and almost hesitant, Len allowed himself to smile and catches the other man's arm with his free hand, as if he'd been about to rush off]
Nah...don't bother. It doesn't matter what he thinks, right?
[He hadn't quite been pulling away to go back upstairs, but he'd been thinking about it. It's been a very long few months, and he's gone back and forth between hating Len and...well, something else. Nothing like hating him at all.
He can feel the edge of Len's ring pressing into his finger, not uncomfortably, and for a moment he wants to know what his partner thinks. But he doesn't know what kind of answer he'll get, and he isn't quite ready to find out.]
[It seems neither of them are ready to find out how the other really feels. But that's fine. Len doesn't need to know. So long as things run smoothly, there's no need to talk about it.
[There had never been time before. Now they almost have too much time, stretching in front of them until some unspecified completion point, and given that neither of them has ever been good at talking about that kind of thing, it still might not be enough time.
Mick turns the kiss deeper for a moment, almost fierce, but only for a moment. He's still leaning close when he speaks again.]
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Try not to go too many rounds before you get here.
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[And he does get there almost right on the dot, walking up to the address with a curious expression.
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The inside isn't much better, that's probably black and white tile on the floor but who can tell, it's too dark inside to know for sure. The oak bar is scuffed but solid, rows of bottles behind it look well-used, the only light comes from beer signs on the walls and whatever makes it through the window in the front, it's a beat-up place that's seen a lot of years.]
Whaddaya think?
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What are the terms? And what about the living space? Is it the whole building that we'd take?
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Whole building. Guy's retiring, going south. Storage upstairs, couple apartments two floors up.
[And they're a mess, but still better than some places he and Len have flopped in.]
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Len all but bounces as he comes over the the bar and lands against it, flashing a fierce grin.]
It's a total dump. I love it. How soon can we take it off the old man?
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Guy wants it for a song. Says it's not about the money, just didn't wanna see it going to some entrepreneurs with big ideas about ginger martinis, he said.
[Whereas when they move in, they won't even wipe the grime off the windows. That's years' worth of grime, it's seen a lot, the place is perfect the way it is, for what they want.]
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[Len really is excited, and he loves to see Mick's grin of pride as well. He turns away again and moves around the bar to the back, touching the baseball bat that's sitting under the bar. It's been there so long it's worn a groove in the shelf]
You did good finding this place, Mick. How bad's the upstairs?
[As much as he loves the grime and dinginess of downstairs, the place where he'll live will likely get a makeover]
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[He shrugs. They've stayed in some pretty terrible places, and the apartments are a little on the grimy side, but nothing that couldn't be fixed up over a weekend.]
Not as bad as that Coast City bolt hole.
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And with some financial help from our investors, we can resupply and be open for business soon enough. Lisa brought some cash along, and I've been talking to a merc named Brock Rumlow who says he wants to invest.
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Sounds like a deal. Unless you want to comparison-shop. Won't find another place like this.
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I've been shopping. I've seen some shitholes, but none good like this. And I've seen some nice places - too nice, and too expensive. I don't think we'll find anywhere like this.
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Want me to make the deal?
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Mick's not really a business man. Not that Len is, but Len is good at making deals, being charismatic, thinking things through. He bumps his shoulder against Mick's bicep, smiling up at him]
Let's do it together.
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The owner is in the partitioned space on the second floor that serves as an office. They'll need to increase security everywhere, that much is obvious, but they'll have the time. And the old man is delighted to meet Mick's partner, shakes his hand with both hands, waves them both into chairs and pours them all vodka.
The terms are simple, the deal is already generous but Len goes back and forth a few times for the look of the thing, and at the end, another drink. The whole thing can't take more than half an hour before the building—the bar, the second floor, the apartments above—is all theirs.]
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The vodka is good, and Len feels the flush of victory as he drinks his glass. When they're done, they walk out of his 'office' and catches Mick's hand as they walk out, twining their fingers together and arching a brow at him.] Did you tell him that we were 'together'?
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[Although exactly what he'd decided it meant, Mick isn't sure. He'd certainly looked delighted when Len walked in, and said they looked like a good, solid pair. Mick had already become 'Misha' to him, and Len had become Lyov, after a few moments' thought, and Mick had a feeling that's what they'd remain, to the old man.
Mick's fingers tighten a little on Len's as they step back into the dingy bar. They'd agreed to take over in a week, give the former owner time to pack up and say his farewells, but the place is theirs. There's a strange, disorienting sense of grounding as he glances around again.]
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...which, now that he thinks about it. Hm.
Mick's face has always been more expressive than Len's, and now he looks uncertain, a little off-balance.]
...should I tell him we're...it's not like that? Can go back up, if you...
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As he Mick offers to go back upstairs, obviously thrown off and almost hesitant, Len allowed himself to smile and catches the other man's arm with his free hand, as if he'd been about to rush off]
Nah...don't bother. It doesn't matter what he thinks, right?
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He can feel the edge of Len's ring pressing into his finger, not uncomfortably, and for a moment he wants to know what his partner thinks. But he doesn't know what kind of answer he'll get, and he isn't quite ready to find out.]
Fine. Leave it, easier that way.
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He does lean up and give Mick a kiss, though.]
Right. Easier.
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Mick turns the kiss deeper for a moment, almost fierce, but only for a moment. He's still leaning close when he speaks again.]
Want the tour?
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