milliways_bar | (no subject)

The man who walks in -- no, strides in, moving with confidence and self-assurance -- looks much, much different from the man who came in last night. It's amazing what couture can manage. In addition to much more upscale attire (names such as Armani, Cardin, and Bruno Magli come to mind for the observant), his hair has been properly styled, complete with product and arranged with artfully careless perfection. There's not a bead or a braid in sight.

Jack seems much more pleased with life today as he strolls up to Bar and says, "Darling, it's been too long. You know what I like, don't you? Venti, triple-shot, organic soy, extra-hot latte, and of course I know you won't forget the rum."

The drink appears instantly, and he runs a casual hand down the wood, almost absently, as he picks it up. "Merci. Be a dear, would you, and give me the latest journals? The Times -- Financial, New York, and London all three, I suppose, plus the Wall Street Journal and the Economist. I know the holidays are coming, but--"

Here there's a bit of a smirk.

"--business never stops. Especially in trade, and you know I'm not one to miss the opportune moment."

He takes the papers as well and settles at the nearest table, then begins to read the shipping news.

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Merriman inclines his head a fraction of an inch, though his gaze holds the same detached, clinical regard.

'I should certainly hope so,' he says simply. 'Far too much trouble to go about looking like someone else.'

Which is more than he can say for Jack at this moment...but that will have to come later. At least he has ascertained that there is no specific memory loss.

His gaze falls for a moment on Jack's choice of reading material. 'If it's the shipping forecasts you're after, you could do worse than to acquire a copy of Fairplay. Unless you feel you've sufficient information from the standard trade press.'

The magazine wasn't created until the 1880s. Merriman is well aware of this, which is why there's a very slight emphasis on the word "standard".

Something unpleasant glitters in the black eyes, but his smile doesn't waver, and his lazy drawl is surprisingly smooth in tone.

"Ah, but it's so useful to see what the general public is thinking and feeling about certain matters, wouldn't you agree?"

A beat.

"Then again, I do suppose that those of your ilk have never been all that interested in anything outside the avenues of governmental influence, however it comes."

Another beat, and he inquires,

"However is that working out for you these days?"

Merriman waves a hand, a small dismissive gesture. 'About as well as one might expect, where the government is involved. It all depends on who has the whip hand at the moment -- and at the moment, it appears to be the Company.'

His eyes narrow very slightly. 'At the moment. That may very well change.'

If he has anything to say about it, it will.

"Oh, I'm quite sure of that."

If possible, Jack's smile is even sharper than before.

One eyebrow goes up slightly. 'We shall see what the Company's lobby does. They are the ones with the influence, after all...regardless of what the "general public", as you put it, think of maritime matters.'

A pause, and one corner of his mouth quirks.

'Though we do try not to give too many people cause for complaint. Bad for business, really.'

"Not for long," he says smugly. "But do go ahead and rest on your laurels, old chum. It'll be much simpler that way, all things considered."

Merriman hopes that his facial expression manages to convey a sufficient level of don't call me that again if you value what remains of your already questionable sanity.

'Indeed now?' he says, mouth twitching. 'You have plans then, I take it?'

"What do you think?" he challenges, and there's something almost wickedly cheerful about it.

"No, I tell you what. Come see for yourself, on Friday. I'll even make an exception for you."

'Friday?' Merriman repeats, tilting his head a little to one side. 'And must I wait in suspense until then, or will you favour me with an inkling of precisely what might be so exceptional that it requires my presence?'

"It's going to be the event of the season."

Jack's smile is bright and triumphant, and he seats himself without invitation at the other man's table.

"Surely you've been observant enough here to be paying attention to the restoration project out back?"

Event of the season.

That gets a flat stare.

'To the best of my abilities, yes.'

"The timing couldn't have been better," he enthuses. "She's ready for her debut, just in time for the holiday gala. If I do say so myself, it's a near-miracle of historical reconstruction."

"Everyone who's anyone will be there-- and more besides, I suppose, but you and I know how that works."

'Do we indeed.'

It doesn't quite sound like a question, even if it's phrased as such.

'So you intend to hold a gala upon her, in celebration of the completed reconstruction?'

"I knew you'd put it together eventually," Jack tells him, with a sharp smile. "Oh, she may not be the most modern ship of the line in terms of transport and carriage, but she'll serve her purpose well enough for this--"

He winks.

"-- and people love that feeling of antiquity."

'Then you may of course be assured that I shall be there with bells on.' Merriman returns the smile, though it stops well short of his eyes. 'And I shall of course be appropriately dressed for the occasion. It would never do to let the Company down, would it?'

The last is said with a flicker of slightly chill amusement that may or may not be entirely called for in this situation.

"Something like that."

Jack nods to him.

"And now if you'll pardon me, old chum--"

Evidently someone either missed or is choosing to ignore the earlier silent warning.

"--I'd best get back to it. Time waits for no man, after all, and business keeps moving."

'Time and tide wait for no man, I should say.'

A quiet, subtle correction.

'Until the day, then.'