Two Sides, One Coin

Only after Sasha has used past tense in reference to the Forge did he realize that he's done exactly the same just seconds before, not notified in any way that the place was actually closed. Of course, it could be implied by the owners' departure, but then again, it was a piece of property - it ought to belong to someone.

"Tournament fights, you say? And with enough space for a concert? Metal is not exactly my genre of choice, but maybe it's time to reopen that venue? Repurpose it a little."

The cogs in his mind turned almost audibly as he considered the possibilities with such a prime piece of real estate. They kind of stopped in their tracks as he gradually realized just how much time and money this is going to take. The grease of what the Onyx Monarch said next granted them some new impetus, though.

"It's a deal, then!" His collected, proffesional persona was just put through a meat grinder. Ouch. "Next time, we are going to breathe fire together! Just remember that no mercy will be given. You have been warned." That last sentence was spoken with a mockingly grim tone. But seriously, habanero takes no prisoners.

And hopefully, there will be heat all right.

Sasha's next statement takes him by surprise no lesser than her own, and his own eyes widen a little too as it rains down on him like a downpour of glass from a broken one-way mirror, bestowing momentary blindness only to grant perfect clarity seconds after. There is the urge to jump at this exposure like a hungered predator, but the rational part of Alexander's mind tells him that the hunt must continue, and any premature action might end in having a knife deep within his carotid.

"That would be one lucky man to have a partner such as yourself. And if such person ever... emerges, how would he know he is worthy of your time?" The Mirrorskin leans a bit forward. Granted, the excuse was paper-thin. Could he come up with a better one? Likely, yes. Did he want to?

Hell, no.

His intentions were noble, but the Darkling didn't realize it wouldn't be the same. "Maybe of another nature. Perhaps something that pleased a crowd and did good business. You could do it elsewhere too." She grinned with a smirk. Funderland would need some key things to draw in adults, maybe his idea would be fruitful.

Sasha laughed heartily, she hadn't laughed like that in a little while. "Just do not be offended if for some reason I cannot finish it. My intentions are good, I will give it my best effort. What is it people eat or drink to kill the burn? Milk, celery, ranch?" Two of which the Dancer saw on advertisements for buffalo wings or something like that.

Way to open your mouth prematurely. He doesn't seem interested. His words weren't foreign to the Fairest, yet, Sasha was sure there were reasons behind it. Was it because of some Contract she never had, nor wanted? The Winter Fairest's Mantle flared momentarily, a chill blew through the air. No one may realize its origins, save for the person across the table. How would he even know unless she told him or asked him. There was only one time that the Onyx ever thought about trying to gain this contract, but it passed. Like everyone else.

"Maybe someday." Her eyes drifted away from Alex. "I think sometimes people misjudge me. As if I'm after something I'm not. I get stereotyped more than I thought I would." She sighed while her Mantle's flare dissipated.

"So, what restaurants in the city have these fire breathing cuisines you speak of?" Quickly clutching at something other than what she let slip from her lips earlier.

Ice can slip through the fingers of a warm hand.

"I was thinking something more of a... community center." He replies to the Fairest and her obvious hesitancy "Exhibits, extracurricular classes for children, all for a nominal charge. Or a boxing club for the younger crowd, a place to blow off steam, so that it doesn't get blown on the street." Look at him, a true Man of the People. All jokes aside, gang activity was a concern on the West Coast. Or so his 5-0 friends told him. "That would, however, require a pile of cash, even if done inside Funderland. I don't suppose you have any experience as a cat burglar? I think I've seen some gold being transferred into Bank of America the other day." Alexander finishes, grinning mischievously. It would be a sight to see. Or not see, if the job goes well.

"Offended?" No, not really. "If you leave something on your plate, I'd be more inclined to finish it myself. Like I said, though. A catnip. I can't promise it'll be pretty. We'll see who is offended then. And if the burn is killing you, steer clear of water, it'll only make it worse. A full milk or strong alcohol works best, the latter with the added benefit of losing any memory of it." There are also other benefits, ones that don't need mentioning. Dreamily, he wonders what would it look like to have a drunk talk with the Dancer, with both parties intoxicated equally.

His jolly mood dissipates as the pure, cold Sorrow that is the Onyx Monarch's Mantle flares up, for the second time today. In a moment of horror, he realizes his responsibility for it. As the Winter's Sorrow reach out to the world, the Wrath of Summer turns inwards, chastising the Mirrorskin for this loss of opportunity. There might be a glimmer of hope, however. No more bets this time, all hands are shown.

"Let me be crystal clear. There is nothing stereotypical about you, Sasha." He takes a moment to catch all the thoughts whirling in his mind. "Actually, scratch that. There is one thing. You are just as beautiful as one might expect you to be. But that's about it. You're unique in every sense of the word, and whoever doesn't see that is either blind or foolish." Did that sound cliched? Maybe, but it was true nonetheless, as far as Alexander was concerned. "You might say that I don't know you very well, and it'd probably be true. What I said before? That was me clumsily asking for a chance to get to know you better. When I first arrived, I've promised you my assistance, but this time I don't need any higher power watching over me to promise my dedication. It is up to you, and you alone, what you will choose to do with it."

Yeah, that's right! He wields the Spear of Iron, he's supposed to be bold. It's time to cash in the chips... or return home a beggar.
Gently and steadily moving to hold her hand with his, he seals the confession, answering her last question, blatantly ignoring its original purpose:

"I hope we will find out together."

She smiled, another memory came into her view. The Dancer had heard about the Glissade, but it was closed by the time she arrived. She'd met Nightfall once or twice, who had previously owned it, but they never did get into that conversation. Sasha was positive that he didn't like her, despite that she heard he was also a dancer. Alas, she'd never really know.

"You know, I think that would be a great idea." She could picture him running that sort of thing. A little like those of the past. She was just glad Alexander had ambitions to stay. Her eyebrows twitched when he said cat burglar. Even if she could do it, she probably wouldn't unless someone's life depended on it.

"I can't make any promises, I'll just do my best and we'll see what happens." She returned his grinning and looking forward to it, even if it was just friendly fun. "So milk it is then." Not wanting to get into the conversation of not drinking, or even stating that she didn't drink. That would lead to questions the Fairest couldn't answer right now. Hopefully the Darkling wouldn't notice.

But not long after the talk of food, and potential mutual meal out, things began to change.

After his first statement, and Alexander had paused, Sasha looked back to him when 'scratch that' left his mouth. The Onyx wanted to make sure she heard every word he said, and she watched his eyes and lips simultaneously. Yet, she'd heard that before.

The next words he spoke, Sasha had never heard.

Her Mantle didn't flare this time, but, unprotected by her Mask, the Fairest's aura slowly brightened. The Mirrorskin had reservations, it was understandable. But this, this was someone who was definitely interested, he just had trouble getting it out. Much like herself, although the Darkling's speaking was far better than she could ever do.

She almost didn't see his hand move toward her own. Her violets were focused on his face, if it wasn't for her peripheral vision, she may have not seen beyond where her attention had been. The Dancer's eyes slowly closed. The power of something simple as touch spoke louder than all his verbage combined.

"I would really like that." Terri would have been proud of her. Probably the first time she didn't squander someone's response and find more excuses.

Not wriggling away from his hand, Sasha smiled. "Tell me something." It grew more thoughtful as she was about to speak. "What's something you miss doing in the last place you lived?"

L'aire smiles, and Alexander was just about to take credit for that, but then it dawned on him that she was probably just smiling at some memory, triggered by his words. So, still a win. Kind of. The pleasant feeling vanishes like chalk sponged away from a blackboard, however, when her eyebrows twitch ever so slightly, a clear sign that the cat burglar joke wasn't to her liking. Maybe he shouldn't be so surprised - after all, the Queen of Winter didn't seem to condone criminality except in the most dire of circumstances.

Still, they could really use that gold.

"We will, won't we?" Yes, this is going to be fun, especially if they visit the place he has in his mind right now. The Fairest's dodge on the topic of alcohol was seamless, almost unnoticeable. Yet another example she's as gracious a dancer as she is a conversationalist. If he wanted to continue, he'd have to press, and that would just be sleazy. Check and mate. He tries to conceal his defeat as thoughtfulness.

And yet, this failure was like a speck of dust when compared to the victory he was about to achieve.

At first, his words didn't seem to have any tangible effect. Sasha's eyes focused on his own, catching every word and facial movement in a net, and none escaped. Gradually, however, the aurora borealis grew brighter, magnificently announcing what he interpreted as a breach in defenses. It'd take him a long time to realize that he didn't breach anything - instead, he was let in. The touch seemingly caught her off-guard, though, resulting in closed eyes. He smiled, content. He doesn't break contact, unless there's any hint the Onyx Monarch wants him to. Or unless it gets awkward.

"What do I miss?" Careful now, we don't want to appear boring, do we? "Two things. First, sitting by the ocean. The infinite blue, the sounds of water... it always helped me think, make plans. The riverfront here is nice, but not quite the same. The other, well..." For a moment, he ponders if he wants to share it. After all, she might frown upon the practice and that would be just disastrous. "I miss my Robin Hood gig. It went like this: when I spotted a rich asshole - at a party, for instance - I approached them and posed as a representative for another rich asshole. Russian oligarchs, Nigerian princes, you name it. <<The opportunity of a lifetime!>> I used to tell them. Promised them diamonds, prestigious marriages, castles over the Loire... in exchange for an advance-fee needed to put things in motion. Worked like a charm, and none of them even blinked when I requested cash instead of bank payment. The next day, I was gone, and the money at the doorstep of some underfunded orphanage." He stopped for a moment. "River City is a bit too small for that kind of thing, though. Well... maybe from time to time."

"But you know what? I don't mind. This is home now. What about you? It must've been hard for you to give up your life of travel." And he was sure that was not the only thing she had to let go of to be where she is now. If she is willing to answer the question that's terrific, if not - he respects boundaries.

"I guess there's no use crying over spilled milk. It is what it is. Or maybe it's Fate. Do you believe in Fate, Sasha?"

The Dancer did wonder how someone as pale as Alexander survived Summer weather. It blew through her mind as he spoke of sitting by the ocean. The rest of him she found easy to speak to; his features made it much easier to convey her thoughts. It wasn't blank, but, other than his tone, there wasn't any sort of opposition between his face and his words. The Fairest really liked that. Perhaps it was part of her attraction, as she pondered those thoughts while he answered her question. "It's been a long time since I've been to the ocean. Not just flying over it; actually putting my toes in silky sand."

Yet, his further description of his past 'job' really lifted her heart. The Onyx wouldn't have guessed that's what he did, or even enjoyed doing. "Did you have a band of merry men too?" Softly giggling. "That is amazing you did such a thing." Leaning in to be quiet about it. Even if they weren't talking about Lost things, stealing didn't always fall on deaf ears. "What you used to do is marvelous. I love hearing stories about sudden changes in someone's financial situation, anonymous donations. They are so heart warming." Is that how he gained his Glamour too? Something she'd have to ask later. "Reno isn't far away..." She whispering to hint that it was still possible.

Sasha pondered the question he'd put forth. She nearly stayed somewhere else, if it wasn't for Them. "The last city I was in, which I thought would be more permanent, was Vegas. People came and went very quickly there. And drifters weren't necessarily protected, even if you were trying to maintain residence there." Her face turned to thought as the delicacy of description was necessary. "Running is tiresome. It was sustaining for a good long while, until I saw Her on accident in a crowd. I was too close. So when the troupe returned stateside, I asked for reassignment."

The Fairest thought she believed in it. "Yes and no?" She answered unsure of either answer. "I believe each major choice we take leads to another path, but it's up to us if we choose to walk it."

"Yet the thing is; most of the time when I hear that question there is something else behind it..." She playfully smiled, egging him on to tell her what was really on the mind of the Mirrorskin.

"A whole band?" He shook his head. "No, just one guy. We called him 'Little John', and it was about as fitting as with the original. We left the Bay together - I came here, he went off to New York, said he always wanted to see Lady Liberty. Last I heard from him, he sold Lake Michigan to some sheikh from the Gulf, complete with fire and theft insurance." He grinned like the Cheshire Cat, which was that much easier and more inconspicuous thanks to their faces being closer than they were just seconds ago. He couldn't deny it helped spawn some ideas in his head. "Reno is a good call. Different state, a lot of dollars changes hands... we can go there and back in about six hours, plus another six to pull out a game." Alexander said in a conspiratory whisper, although he felt no real need to do that. But hey, it was fun.

"You may notice I said that in plural. That's because the best confidence tricks are two-man jobs. Besides... every Robin Hood needs his Lady Marion." Still smiling warmly, invitingly, he ponders just how useful English folklore can be in expressing a very much contemporary interests without being grossly overt.

The hair at the back of his neck rose, as if in the presence of static, when They were mentioned. The event Sasha described might've been a coincidence, but who is to say She didn't track down one of her prized "possessions"? If the latter would be the case, that particular Gentry at least scored some points for taste in his book... but still was inside the "nuke from orbit" column. "And no sightings of Her since? Let's hope it's kept that way. And if not... we will figure something out." Of course, there was no Green around to poison the Fae. Does that mean the duty of being at the frontline will fall to him if shit hits the fan? It's more than likely, and only the glow of Summer stopped him from gulping audibly. Well, perhaps the perspective of embarassment played a part, too.

"That's a very." He starts, taking a moment to find the right words. "Balanced approach. But if it's a choice that leads to the path, then it's a matter of will, rather than predestination, correct? Unless that choice is based on a set of predetermined factors we have no control over." It's not his intention to prove the Fairest wrong (if it's even conceivable on a topic like that), it's just his Seasonal aura taking the lead for a moment. He longs to challenge, have a little mutually enjoyable intellectual fencing. Alexander gives Sasha some time to react, respond if she wants to.

"Personally, I'm a big fan of free will. Mainly because it's dreadful to think that before time began someone determined that right here and now I'm going to do this." The distance between them was nearly nonexistent as it was, but he's closed in even further and tries to connect his lips with hers. It's not to be a prolonged contact, more a smudge, a taste, than a kiss. If all goes according to plan, and he is not swallowing his own teeth, he leans back a little and finishes: "That would just be disturbing."

Of course, there may be a time, maybe even today, when he will have to address the issue in a more serious manner. But not now. Now is the time to savor.

Her features were baffled but in amusement. “Really, the whole lake? Does he sell ice to Eskimos too?” Sasha chuckled softly at her own correlation. But it turned to confusion when Alexander began speaking of something. “Pull out a game?” Words she’d never heard before, but she wasn’t in the criminal syndicate.

Nodding as the Darkling noted the two-man job, she curled a lip. She loved fantastical tales and replied. “Well, Lady Marion was just that. A Lady. Did Robin implicate her in such things? If he did, it must have been tales I never read.” The Fairest didn’t try to pull the ‘I don’t get my hands dirty’ all the time. When it came to something that could ever potentially jeopardize her career (whatever it may have been) she was cautious. “The thing is, I work with children.” She said the last word so warmly, the snowy lights may have flickered a little. “I try my best not to do anything that I would be ashamed to see in their faces if something were to happen. It would also probably crush some of them.” Sasha wouldn’t say it, she hated to even admit it, but the Dancer was aware some young girls idolized her. She didn’t like it, but it was true. And when your heroes fall, it’s devastating.

Shaking her head soundly. “No, I haven’t seen her with the exception of looking up the current dancers for the Russian Ballet.” The Fairest could hardly remember the name until she saw Her. Sasha just looked for the doppelganger and then quickly closed the site. Her hand still beneath the warmth of Summer, she softly squeezed it. “She seemed seeded where she was. She never returned when my mother was dying. I don’t think I have anything to worry about. I’ve stayed out of the limelight.” A hint of sadness trickled through her voice, but it was hard to say if it was because of all she'd said or one specific thing. Although the last sentence was one of the reasons she was jealous of Violet LeBlanc.

The Dancer breathed in. Hearing anything about control put a sour taste in her mouth. “I really hope there aren’t predetermined factors without our control. I’m sure plenty of us have had quite enough of that and wouldn’t like to return to it.”

“I guess it’s hard to explain if I believe in fate or not.” Her eyes moving to her thoughts, seeing paths and turns in non-existent roads. “I believe there are reasons for everything, to put it another way. Maybe that’s what you could define as fate…” She said as her violets looked back to him curiously.

It was then; the warm brush of his lips on hers completely distracts whatever they were talking about. A quick connection of more than just their hands; he may have leaned back slightly but she didn’t. “It would.” She said softly with a gushing grin.

“I think the preferred method is leaving it to chance.” The Dancer was unsure if she should reciprocate the gesture, was it too soon? The Mirrorskin merely just said he wanted to see where things went. With those thoughts, the Fairest leaned to him and did more than just brushing her lips to his. Gently, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Alexander's. Maybe it was an accident before, now the Onyx would find out.

"No, of course not!" Alexander replied, mocking indignation this time. "Primarily because most Eskimos don't have accounts in Swiss banks, and likely he has no use for reindeer fur." He stops when Sasha does, apparently a bit confused. "That's what most con artists call it. A game is a single trick, the tricked person is the mark, and we are the hunters." It was nice to let it slip, as if they both now know an important secret.

"With children? Where?" The Mirrorskin acted surprised but wasn't, if he could picture anyone from here doing actual work with kids it was her, clearly evidenced by the change of her tone and the barely noticeable flicker in her aura, as if anyone with eyes to see would need evidence to that effect. "And we seem to have a little bit of a misunderstanding. We... I never took a dime from the poor middle-management schmucks thinking they're big game, and believe me I've met many. The marks we sported were people involved in large-scale embezzlement of public funds, water pollution, insider trading, child labor." The Summer's own aura might be weak in comparison to the Onyx Monarch's but in that moment it strenghtened, fueled by pure Wrath. "If there is an Afterlife, I expect a limo straight to Heaven for what I did, with St. Peter behind the wheel." He takes a breath, collects himself. There's your face at stake, dammit! "The kids that look up to you are exploited daily, and they don't even know it. If it's still a no, then I respect that, but I need you to promise me that if you ever happen to find a bag full of money at your workplace, you will put it to good use." He wasn't worried that she'd use it for Pradas and Ferraris, more that she will throw it out as "dirty".

He was glad to hear no problems are expected on the Arcadian frontline, that's one thing ticked out on a checklist. Russia sounds far enough, and if there was no interest so far in moving, chances are it won't change (which is no reason to throw out that revolver one has under one's pillow). As the Fairest expresses her opinion on the unchangeable factors, that thing the Mirrorskin has instead of face turns to a thoughtful expression. "Plenty, yes. And still some long for it, willing to accept the sky without stars" If you pardon the flowery comparison. "In exchange for not having to decide anything, returning to the life they supposedly escaped from." If Alexander was in the company of other Summers, he'd spit. But he wasn't, so he didn't.

"Reasons defined by whom?" The Mirrorskin's eyes flickered, curiously. "By the person who put a given event into motion? Or is he merely like a puppet on strings, directed by someone else? And if there's a reason for everything... what is the reason for us being here today?" It was a question that hung in the air, first posed by the Dancer. He relished in the opportunity to ask that directly, making him able to respond, rather than being responded to.

Thankfully, and perhaps a little surprisingly, he is not forced to collect what's left of his teeth and dignity from the pavement. As the passing sensation ends, he notices the only person who leaned back was him. He was in the middle of thinking up a witty response to what the Fairest just said, but then the world ended.

Or so it may have seemed, with how sudden, unexpected and utterly blissful that was. He makes no attempt to resist, he couldn't anyway, in fact he tries his best to respond equally (which was made a little harder by the fact that his brain glowed like a thousand suns) and the contact ends when it does, naturally, gently. Alexander cools down, and thoughts slowly return.

"My dear." He was grinning, and any other person would see stupidity in this grin, but to both of them it was clear it was something else altogether. "I hope in the days to come you'll see that I leave nothing to chance. Least of all a quest for the greatest treasure anyone can hope for."

She laughed at his mocking joke about the people of the frozen north. "Well, I guess that makes sense." Still chuckling even as he mentioned the con artist bit. The look of clarity came over her face, she smiled with a nod.

"Children, at Studio One." Her head tilted, apparently she left out some details. Some important life details. "I teach children to dance, help with recitals, the holiday dance recital. That sort of thing." She said all of these things with pride and wasn't ashamed to guide grace into the life of youngsters. Sasha knew what the Mirrorskin meant as he mentioned exploited. "Yes, I know. But this is how I still maintain my sanity without actually performing." Her voice was soft so as not to attract any attention about that part of her life. "Don't worry, if there was a bag full of money, I'd do the right thing. There are more that could use it versus myself."

The Fairest hadn't heard of anyone who would give up such freedom any longer. "I really can't imagine that. Although, I think I understand. Some people need order and not make decisions. I think there's some sort of... um... group that's like that." From what the Dancer heard about 50 Shades of Grey, she could see how it was possible. Sasha was convinced the writer wrote Grey or the other girl about her relationship with their own Keeper.

It was just a taste, like a sample of the ice cream parlor they were at. She wanted more, but it would have to wait. There was an unspoken agreement hanging in the air. The attraction was clear, the pull was there by both parties. Some of the words he had spoke turned into jello in her brain. She only remembered the Mirrorskin's last question.

"The reason we came here today is that." She pursed her lips, a sly grin peaked out. "We met at another place. We wanted to meet again. The only 'reason' I can think of is that I was drawn to you." The Fairest didn't want to elaborate too much yet. She wasn't the type to gush, at least, she'd never been given the opportunity.