Chapter Text
Saturday, October 9
4:00p.m.
“Yo!”
“Huh?” You grunt from the bathroom, in the middle of drawing a somewhat clumsy line of eyeliner along the lid of your right eye.
“Your chauffeur's at the door!”
“My chau- oh! Uh, be right out!”
It’s even more difficult to finish the liner now that your hand is shaking from an influx of nerves.
You really are going to dinner with Silco, and the entire board of directors. That means you’ll be surrounded by the same snobby, self-important elitists you served coffee to only a week and a half ago. At least this time you'll feel a little less like a peasant, going as Jinx’s plus one, and you don’t have to serve any coffee. Tonight, the only thing that matters is Jinx.
And that Silco's happy, of course, because you're also kind of going at his request. For his daughter. Because Silco cares about her, and he knows Jinx likes you, so you're the best choice for cheering her up.
So you going has nothing to do with him.
Nope. Not even a little bit.
Not at all.
Your hand inexplicably twitches, ruining the liner.
"Mother trucker!"
The damage is bad enough that in order to fix it you either have to make the eyeliner cover half your eyelid, or take it all off with a Q-tip and start over. You’re pretty sure you don’t have time to fix it, so you bite the bullet and pretend you were going for a smokey eye in the first place. It works out alright, and after inspecting your half-hurried work in the mirror you make sure all the bruises along your cheek are still covered up, pull the chintzy robe closer around you, and head to the living room.
“Hi, Thomas! I’m so sorry for the wait. I'll be done by 4:30, I swear.”
“Don't worry about it,” Thomas says with a respectful tilt of his head. “I came early since I thought you’d need some time to get into the dress.”
He places a box into your arms.
“There’s shoes inside too, and a few pieces of jewelry.”
Woah. What fairy tale have I fallen into?
"Cool. Thanks."
Allie is wearing a devilish grin. You’re afraid of the conversation that might happen after you’re gone, but again, you don’t have time to deliver a stern warning. You settle for giving her the stink eye before turning on your heel to head to your room. “I’ll be out soon.”
“Take your time,” Allie calls after you. “Me and Thomas are getting along just fine out here.”
You grit your teeth and kick the bedroom door closed behind you.
You’d been given no information regarding what Silco would choose for you, so you haven’t done anything to your hair except wash and blow dry it. Once you have the dress on, you hope there’ll be enough time to do a quick up-do.
The shoes lying on top of white tissue paper are familiar, being the Louis Vuittons Jinx let you wear for the painting session. As for the accessories, Silco apparently decided to supply you with half the jewelry stores in Zaun. There are three choices for necklaces, four for bracelets, and two pairs of earrings, all of which look stupid expensive. And impressive, which might have been the point.
Silco must want you to make an impression.
But the thing is, if you wear any of these items you'll be too worried about losing them, and the whole point of you going is to make sure Jinx is having a good time.
Yet you don't want to be rude. Silco obviously took great care in choosing the jewels.
You bite your lip and go for the simplest item you can find: large ruby stud earrings.
There. That should satisfy him.
As for the dress itself...
You hold it up in front of you to look at in the closet mirror.
The dress is oddly understated. It's a knee length charcoal black bodycon with long sleeves and a winged collar. The only pop of color is the triangular cherry red panel being held in place at the left collarbone by a single golden button.
For such a a simple design, it really is stunning. And Thomas was right when he said you’d need some time to get into the dress. The fabric is just loose enough to pretend to be accommodating, but stiff enough to require an interpretive dance in order to squeeze your hips past the waistline. And after that struggle is finished you still have to face the dreaded zipper.
Like most women’s fashion, it’s extremely difficult to reach without help, an annoying fact that you try to bypass by pretending you’re a contortionist. One minute later you give up, red in the face and sore fingered from failing to coax the impossibly small zipper beyond the dead middle of your back.
Admitting defeat, you call for your sister’s help.
Her face, when she arrives, is priceless.
“What the H? Who are you, and what have you done to my slouchy little sister?”
“Hey, I’m not slouchy! I’m chill and approachable. There’s a difference. Now help me please.”
You’re zipped up in short order, and turn to face her. You feel yourself getting shy under her sharp scrutiny.
“Well?”
“You realize he’s dressed you like a bond woman, right?”
“What? No he didn’t!”
She snorts. “He so did. The collar though, it reminds me of –”
You point at her. “Luke Skywalker!”
“Return of the Jedi!”
“Ha!”
You both grin.
“Okay, but seriously, you look positively villainous. Your man really knows how to make a fashion statement.”
You turn away to the mirror, flustered. “Please Allie, he’s not my man.”
“Oh yeah? Then what is he?”
“He’s just… He’s my boss who thinks he owes me because I helped… because I’m a good friend to his daughter.”
“Oh, yeah, sure, whatever you say.”
She gives you a significant look as she picks up a black velvet case. Inside it what looks suspiciously like a Cartier necklace she'd been drooling over in a magazine last month.
You cross your arms.
She snaps it shut and tosses it back on the bed. "Just look at the facts. In the short time you’ve known him The Eye of Zaun, a man who is well known for being a mysterious hermit, has invited you into his life and given you free access to his daughter, his business, and his personal driver.”
When she puts it like that, you can almost allow yourself to believe there’s something happening under the surface between you and Silco. That unspoken thing.
Treacherous, treasonous hope swells in your heart. You let it blossom only for a moment before stamping it down.
She wasn’t there when you helped Jinx. She didn’t see Silco's pain, or hear his confession. She didn't understand that Silco’s offer tonight had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with his daughter.
You are nothing but an asset.
An investment.
“What about this dress?”
“What about it?”
“It fits you perfectly. Did you tell him your dimensions, or did he figure that out himself?"
For a flickering moment you remember the first time you met. He certainly took the length and breadth of you then. Not to mention the night you wore that red dress.
Butterflies box around in your stomach as you raise your chin.
“Jinx is super good at guessing sizes. He probably just asked for her help.”
“Come on sis, don't be stupid. Just admit it. He’s paying more attention to you than you think.”
“Of course he is," You reply stubbornly. "That’s what makes him Silco. He pays attention, and not just to me, but to everyone.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
“Thank you, I will.”
She heaves a sigh of defeat. “Do you need help with your hair?”
“I'll probably just throw it up into chopsticks. I’ve got those two black ones with the mother of pearl inlays.”
“Perfect. And lipstick?”
“I’ve got that red one you bought me for Christmas last year.”
“Good choice. That color makes you look ultra kissable.” She puckers her lips and sashays from your bedroom. “Now don’t be long, you don’t want to keep him waiting.”
You scoff.
Insufferable.
You twist your hair up and form an easy updo, tugging on a few hairs to frame your face. As you look in the mirror, the butterflies return. You hardly look like your usual, athleisure self. Even with all the mistakes you made with the eyeliner, you look fierce.
Untouchable.
Like a bond woman, doomed to die.
Or maybe you could just, you know, fake your death and live a long and happy life with the international man of mystery.
I wish.
You apply a few finishing touches before carefully packing up the box with it's priceless jewels, and sliding it into your closet. When you enter the living room a few minutes later, Thomas whistles.
"Lookin' good Miss Ross!"
The compliment has you glowing.
"Thanks. You don't think it's a bit... much?"
"Absolutely not. You've never seen the board during these types of shindigs, always trying to out peacock each other. Not one of those boardmembers can pretend you don't deserve to be a part of their club tonight. Not even Mr. golden grill himself."
You assume he means Finn.
"You'll put them all to shame," Allie says, pulling you into a careful hug. "Text me when you're on your way home tonight, will ya? I'll probably be out of the house when you get home."
"Where are you going?"
"The Last Drop! I've been craving some Shimmer, and some of the girls from the shop invited me to go, so I thought I'd see what your sug... er, boss, has going on over there."
You roll your eyes. "Okay. Well don't drink too much, and if Cal's bartending tell him I said hi."
"Of course. Have fun babe!"
“You’re late.”
“Sorry boss, there was traffic on Main, just like you said. The entire college is on the town tonight.”
“No matter, we still have plenty of time. Come Jinx.”
You strain to see Silco out the darkened sedan window, but he’s too tall, and you’re sitting on the right side of the car. You can see Jinx pretty clearly. Her arms are crossed over her bare midriff, revealing blue cloud tattoos you’ve never noticed before. They float along her right rib cage, and hover between the hem of her shirt and a low slung, purple striped skirt.
The door opens, and Jinx slips in looking pale and subdued. Rather than meet your gaze she tips her head so her bangs hide her face from view.
You hear the front passenger door open, and Silco’s head appears. The car fills with the scent of cloves and spices.
You breathe in deep, enjoying the smell.
Focus. You’re here for Jinx.
You look sideways at the girl, who’s arms are still crossed around her stomach, and is staring resolutely at the floor.
“Hi,” You say into the burgeoning silence.
A slight tilt of the head is all you get in response.
“You look cute. I wish I’d worn my boots tonight. I can already tell these shoes are going to kill me.”
Nothing.
You push on with determination as Thomas starts to drive.
“So I went to Kelling’s Escape Room yesterday, the one right across the river. There were some portraits on the walls that made me think of you. They looked like something you would paint. Creepy, but absolutely gorgeous.”
“I did paint them.”
She says it so low you almost miss it.
“What?”
“The portrait of the red-headed man and Moriarty. I painted them.”
“Seriously? How did you get that gig?”
“I take chemistry with the girl who works there, and Silco knows her dad. He commissioned me to paint a bunch of stuff for his business.”
“Wow,” You say, though somehow you’re not surprised.
You’re beginning to realize more and more that Cal was right. Silco knows everyone, and exists everywhere.
“Well they're amazing. My sister refused to let me help solve the room, so I spent most of my time looking at them, finding all the tiny details you’d put in. I especially liked the goat with the sweater.”
She’s finally turning towards you, her left eye barely visible, along with a tentative smile.
“Have you ever done that escape room?”
“They let me be the first to test it. I got through in 55 minutes.”
You laugh. “Of course you did! My sister almost went insane trying to beat your time. That shooting game really pushed her back though. She refused to let anyone else have the gun.”
“That was the easiest part for me. Silco and I go to the shooting range a few times a month. I’ve always been good with a handgun, but he makes sure I know how to disassemble and reassemble military spec rifles and things like that.”
“Wow. You’re way cooler than I ever was at your age.”
She shrugs as if it’s nothing, but you can tell she’s pleased. “I can also make modified hand grenades.”
This little nugget of news is almost as delightful as it is disconcerting.
“You know what? I was wrong. You’re actually way cooler than I’ll ever be in my entire life.”
“That’s kind of sad,” She raises her voice. “Alexa, play I’m a Loser.”
“Playing I’m a Loser, by Three Doors Down.”
“You little punk!” You laugh as a mournful electric guitar solo starts to fill the car. “Alexa, belay that!”
“Belay that? What are you, a pirate?”
“So what if I am? Get off my booty girl!”
You close one eye and shake a hooked finger at her, knowing full well how stupid you look. But it has the desired effect.
Her snort echoes through the cab, and she covers her face with an exaggerated groan.
“Oh my gosh, that was so lame!”
“Yarr ain’t heard nothing yet sister.”
You smother a smug grin as she collapses against your shoulder in a mad fit of cackles.
You catch Thomas’ eye in the rear view mirror. He sends you a wink and a nod, giving you a rush of satisfaction.
Phase 1: Cheer up Jinx, complete.
Phase 2: Somehow keep her happy for the rest of the night...
Currently in progress.
“So, you had to come to this fancy dinner tonight huh?”
“Yeah," Jinx links her arm with yours before pulling her phone out of thin air. "Smile!"
You barely manage to put one on before she's snapped a picture and starts typing madly.
"I’m technically a shareholder for some of dad’s companies so I gotta be there and pretend that I care.”
“Oh. Okay, so what you’re really telling me is that you’re Batman.”
“Basically.”
“What does that make Sevika?”
“Bucky Barnes.”
“Because of her arm?”
“Because there’s a series of words you can recite that turn her into a mindless assassin.”
You laugh. “What words?”
“I can’t tell you or she’d have to kill you.”
You snort. “That’s fair. Who’s Thomas?”
“Thomas is Falcon because, duh! He’s a good person who used to fly drones for the airforce.”
“You did?”
“Sure, it’s how I met the boss. We ran in similar circles.”
“Huh. So who’s the boss then?” You ask slyly, determined to draw the hitherto silent mogul into the conversation.
He doesn't bite.
“He’s Nick Fury, obviously,” Jinx says, without raising her eyes from her phone screen. “What with the eye and the power tripping and that annoying thing he does where he pretends to be invincible.”
“Do you mean to tell me that your dad isn’t invincible?”
“Trust me, he’s got weaknesses like any other man. I can actually tell you what they are, starting with --”
“Before you finish that sentence,” Silco cuts in with a dangerously pleasant tone. “I would remind you that you are a minor, and I still have the power to take away your toys, up to and including a certain concert ticket you begged me to purchase for you three months ago.”
The first genuine look of alarm you’ve ever seen crosses her face. “You wouldn’t!”
“I will, if you choose not to turn the current course of this conversation.”
He's turned his head slightly in order to reprimand her, revealing more of his head and part of his profile.
You realize he's recently gotten a haircut. The fade is sharp, and the styling reminds you of Thomas Shelby.
Why do you have to be so hot?
You heave a silent sigh. “It doesn’t matter, we still have plenty of people to go through. What do you think about Marcus?”
That snaps her out of her sulk.
“Marcus? Who thinks about Marcus?”
“Well I do, recently.”
“What? Why? What on earth does he have that’s even worth anything? I mean the man's a total stick in the mud!”
Her vehemence takes you aback. “I don’t really know yet. He’s dating my sister, so I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
Her relief is so obvious, it’s almost comical. “Oh good. I thought you were going to say you were dating Marcus, and that would be bad because – ”
“Jinx.” Silco murmurs.
“... Because he’s boring and not even worth your time. Anyway, you’re Phil Coulson.”
Hm. That sounds like something you definitely want to investigate later. Especially considering the way you can see Silco tensing in the front seat.
Even though you're almost dying from curiosity, you figure now's not the time to push for an answer. It's probably best to let the comment slide and circle back around to it at a later date.
Maybe when he's not around to interrupt and threaten his daughter.
“Okay I give. Why am I Phil Coulson?”
“Because you’re fearless and hilarious.”
“Oh, nice. But I wouldn't say I’m fearless.”
“Well you aren’t scared of my dad, and pretty much everyone else is.”
“Technically he hasn’t given me a reason to be afraid of him. I’ve also had Sevika as my boss for two years, so I’ve learned how to deal with… exacting personalities.”
“Tactfully put,” Silco’s voice is flat, but you swear you can hear a hint of amusement.
“But you still tried to help me when I was screaming and yelling and throwing things around my studio, and if that’s not fearless I don’t know what is.”
You nod, slowly.
“It’s true. But in my defense I didn’t know you could make grenades. Now that I do, I think I’ll start bringing my riot gear around, just in case.”
Jinx’s cackles are positively madcap, bringing a smug grin back to your face as you turn to look out the window.
I'm so good at this.
However your newfound confidence is just as quickly lost when, ten minutes later, you pull up to the front door of The Fissures.
Thomas puts the car in park.
"Good luck in there," He says over his shoulder as Silco exits the car.
You nod, too nervous to reply.
I'm going to need every ounce of luck I can get.