ticktockgrin | Negotiations With Teeth

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Negotiations With Teeth

Dwayne hates this part of the act. He's pulled just about every con in the game at some time or another, some of them enough times to do them blind without a moment's warning, but this one? It never gets easier, even with the amount of trust involved.

Art items, money, contraband luxuries of all sorts, even drugs and weapons? Sure. Humans? That's one thing he can't stomach.

Next to him, Mira is just as calm as he is, probably calmer because she knows the lock on her silver collar has a quick-release that will let her get it off in half a second.

She's the quickest shifter he knows, maybe because she was turned so young. She's still too damn young... But that's what makes this work so well. The fact that she can do this without losing her shit. After all she's been through she can do the job, control her wolf, and still be rational, reliable, able to have a life outside the perversion and submission that defined her teen years? It's kind of amazing.

She can hold her own, both physically and emotionally, and he can control her if things go bad. Combined with his middle-aged, refined demeanor? They make a good team, and the pack has a lot of faith in them for taking down yet another slave dealer.

He still hates it. But he smiles anyway, genial, professional, and harmless in spite of the huge boxer's build filling out his tailored suit, copper-penny hair and beard trimmed close and neat and not showing even a hint of gray in spite of his forty-five years. A middle-aged businessman, not even a bit out of place in an upscale hotel where a little money buys a lot of discretion.

And the slender young brunette with him? Well, everyone has their indulgences, and all it takes is the right price.

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"You could have done worse," Dwayne says, a small smile on his face. "I've got a few stories of jobs that didn't go exactly right, myself."

* * *

Josh taking an extra-long shower is also a good chance for Dwayne to change, then wolf down a couple of protein bars. By the time the younger man is done, Dwayne is feeling a bit more secure in his stomach's status.

That doesn't mean he wants to wait on dinner, though. "Busy day, if you want to get dinner on, I definitely won't complain." His wolf is tempted to go rushing into the bathroom and get every last scent of Josh's scent while it's still fresh and wet, but Dwayne has more restraint than that. He's comfortably out of his suit and in a pair of sweats and T-shirt, which is a vast improvement, even if it takes away some of that "respectable businessman" image.

And he's fairly pleased with his size guesses for Josh's wardrobe, including the slightly snug T-shirt. Dwayne is reminded that for a werewolf, he's a lazy bastard. He's in excellent shape, but not nearly as defined...aside from his supernatural advantage, he mostly just relies on a regular jog, some light weights work, and the occasional sparring to keep himself on the ball.

It's not just strength, after all. In the ring, he'd taken down plenty of guys who'd put too much confidence in just being bigger. Likewise, he'd dropped more than a few who'd assumed because Dwayne was big, he put all his focus on it in a fight.

Having decided to take the middle ground, Dwayne drops down on the couch, in conversing distance to the open kitchen without crowding Josh. Wolf instincts at work even when he doesn't plan for it.

Oh man... Josh is ridiculously glad he took the edge off when he catches sight of Dwayne, because sharp as he'd looked in the suit, dressed down for the evening in t-shirt and sweats he's possibly even more distracting. If he actually thought there was a god he'd be really tempted to think he was a sadistic bastard and was screwing with him for fun, the way Dwayne nails a pretty solid cross-section of his competence kink, his thing for gingers of either sex, and his marked preference for big guys.

It's a welcome relief to be able to head straight for the kitchen and distract himself with the easy routine of getting dinner started, and he rummages around until he comes up with a pot for the pasta and a big skillet for the meat and sauce. He's not any kind of gourmet, but he's been functionally on his own for most of his life, and spaghetti's something he can throw together pretty much on auto-pilot. "So, what are the odds I'm gonna get a chance to make myself useful any time soon?" he asks once he's got the ground beef and sausage browning and water on to boil for the pasta. "Versus, y'know, just cooling my heels and staying out of the way?" Because, really, that's a lot more important than how distracting Dwayne's forearms are, and he's going to get, and stay, on track, dammit.

Dwayne has a feeling he's going to have his hands full with this one. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing, and he knows his way around the kitchen (which he finds doubly charming, with how comfortable he is with it. Stereotypes? Pfeh, and Dwayne appreciates that.)

"Things tend to be very 'hurry up and wait'. On a job like this, though, things hit the fan fast when they do." He rubs at his arm. How far in does he want to drag Josh? That's a hard call. He knows the kid is willing, but he also is human. No matter how sincere and serious he is, some things in this operation, he's not going to be able to back out of once he's seen. "Extraction always tends to get messy, even with the edge of operators on the inside." He frowns. "You pretty much picked the deep end to jump into. Any other day, I'd take you on a stakeout, maybe lurk a bar to get you started."

He smiles, and rubs at his wrist idly. "If you're really that antsy, though, we can always go out back and try a little sparring. Blow off some steam, and see how you do when it's not a sucker-punch." He looks innocent.

Josh had actually meant the question more as a matter of would he be allowed to be useful rather than would the opportunity arise, the fact that Dwayne's treating it as the latter is something he's going to take as a positive sign. "Yeah, well-" His smile's more than a little impish as he starts chopping onions to toss in with the browning meat. "I've pretty much always sucked at the whole slow and easy thing," he admits. "Once I'm in I'm all in." It's pretty much how he'd dealt with walking out on his father, coming out, and, once he'd realized exactly what had been going on right under his nose for so much of his life, and was still going on in too many places, with getting involved in the werewolf rescue movement.

"Sparring... man-" He hides a blush, or tries to, by focusing his attention back on the food as he scrapes onions into the pan and gives it a stir, and tries not to think about just how up close and personal that would involve getting with Dwayne. "Wouldn't mind a chance to prove I'm not completely incompetent." He glances back up from beneath his eyelashes and makes eye contact, not letting himself be distracted by Dwayne's forearms, or the tendons in his throat.

"Well, if I didn't think you'd be useful, I would have dropped you someplace out of the way until this was over," Dwayne points out. He watches Josh move around the kitchen without being creepy about it, but his wolf likes keeping an eye on the younger man. Prey? He hasn't sorted it out yet. Josh definitely isn't a dominant, not a threat (at least not in that way), but Dwayne...

Well, the pack thing hasn't worked our well for him. Just ask his ex-wife. Dominant enough not to fold when expected to, but with no interest in power plays...That hadn't made for the player Caroline had wanted but it had raised a lot of hackles in a very unstable pack.

Dwayne was pretty sure that wasn't why his wolf was watching Josh's every move but, just in case, he'll be wary.

"I'm still trying to decide how much is safe to let you see. For you, and for the other people I'm working with. But so far, you seem like a good kid, and you aren't coming in blind, and I'd be a liar if I said we couldn't use the help." He leans back and rubs his eyes. Okay, so he is a little tired, considering how complicated today had gotten, and his nerves weren't helping. This was a big operation and of course he was going to be worried. And his voice is a little lower when he says, "Sometimes, it gets bad. I'm not going to lie about that. We try and use the law to our advantage to keep things from getting ugly, but considering the kind of people that we're dealing with, and the fact that werewolves are involved...which a lot of the time, aren't even considered human..." He trails off, and shrugs again. He's pretty sure that Josh understands what he means. And if he doesn't, then he'll spell it out.

But things go bad, and sometimes there's violence. Sometimes people get hurt badly, and sometimes, people die. Dwayne's been lucky so far, but he's not going to pretend it's not a possibility, or that there isn't blood on his hands.

Josh flashes him a quick, pleased smile at Dwayne's words, not even questioning the way the older man has cut right to the heart of his concerns without him having to voice them. He's definitely not dominant. At all. He'll stand up for himself, but he won't challenge a competent leader he respects, and he's more likely to walk away from an incompetent one he doesn't and go his own way than to push for power. So far, everything he's seen of Dwayne is telling him to stay.

"Hey man, you've gotta do what's right for your people, not gonna hear any arguments from me." He tosses in some garlic he's been peeling and chopping while talking, and then hits the whole pan with some salt and pepper and turning the heat down a little. It smells like browning beef with the sweet overtones of the sausage and onion and garlic and his stomach rumbles in anticipation as he shifts over to prepping the garlic spread and the bread it's going on.

"And, uh... yeah." He ducks his head, pleased again for the distraction of cooking. "Believe me, I know it can get ugly." He's only seen the aftermath, so far, and heard the stories... some of them from, or about, men and women, even children, his father had hunted down and sold into their slavery. And he's heard about what can happen when rescue operations go wrong, not that there are that many of them. Too many people just don't care at all, don't think of werewolves deserve any of the rights or consideration of humans. It makes his stomach twist and his voice drop. "I, uh... I wanna help, though. I know what I'm getting into, and I'll do whatever I can to help."

Dwayne smiles, wiping his palms on his jeans. God, he gets kind of preachy at times. He gives Josh his best disarming smile, the one that says it isn't a lack of faith in Josh...just boilerplate.

Especially when he catches the brief drop of shoulders, the duck of head that means the younger man has his own thoughts about the matter. Dwayne says from the couch, "I spend a lot of time getting people out of this whole mess. There's ways to cut ties once you're in, but it's a hell of a lot harder than setting your boundaries before you're ever in that far. So I just wanted to know for sure." He shakes his head, and gets to his feet to wander the few yards to the kitchen. It's not a big house, and Josh has the stove going: distraction and space enough that Dwayne feels comfortable enough closing the distance a bit. He leans against the doorjamb, deciding that's close enough.

"So far? I'll say you look promising, though." He nods toward the stove with a small smile. "Cooking is a big bonus, too. But just in general. So I'm willing to give it a try if you are. Get you familiar with things, and...I don't know, if your friends have the same attitude, have a look at them later down the line." He rubs his short hair down, smoothing it. "But for now, getting through this job is the main goal."

He pauses, tilting his head, then frowns slightly. Okay, this part is probably a little crass, but, well...he'll bring it up anyway. "And that will mean, for what it's worth, a fair share of the profit, if there is any. Most of it goes back into operating and living expenses, but...fair is fair. You put your ass on the risk with the rest of us, you get a fair cut of whatever windfall." He rubs at his jeans leg again, blue eyes serious. He's admitting to felonies now, and if that's not a gesture of trust, well, it's a lost cause. "We scrub the money, and what gets handed back is clean. Where it goes after that? It's your call. Keep it, use it, or put it in the nearest church drop box and be done with it."

Oh jesus, that smile. It drops years off Dwayne's face and Josh has absolutely no control over the way his own smile stretches in return. It takes the lingering shame at his own association, however unknowing, with the business, to wipe the last remnant of a smile from his face as he ducks his head and focuses more intently on getting dinner ready. He can't help but glance up again as Dwayne gets up and comes closer, though, and he gives up and allows himself a moment--just a few seconds, no more--to admire the view as the big redhead leans casually in the door frame. Yep, just as impressive in sweats and a t-shirt as in a business suit, just in a different way.

"I am sure," he assures Dwayne, quiet but firmly resolute. This might not be the kind of operation he'd been signed on with, but that was more for lack of opportunity than interest and he wants, more than anything, to be where he can do the most good. From what he's seen and heard, he's pretty sure signing on with Dwayne's operation will be a step in the right direction there. "Start me with whatever grunt work you have and gimme a chance to prove I'm useful is all I ask. And, yeah-" He pauses for a moment, thinking. "I might know a couple people who'd be interested in doing more than, uh, trying to buy people back." Because it's noble, and it's better than nothing, but... only barely. There's only so much you can do one sale at a time, especially when you have to scramble like hell for the funds to back it up... and are enriching the sick fucks who think it's okay to own people in the first place.

He pauses mid-stir of the meat when Dwayne mentions profit and casts a quick, confused glance the older man's way. Profit... is not something he'd actually considered as potentially factoring into the deal at all, and it takes him a moment to work out just where profit might even be coming from. And that it basically amounts to 'ill-gotten gains'. It takes him barely longer to decide that he's just fine with that, given the likely source. "Uh... wasn't honestly expecting profit to be on the table," he admits. And he's actually been half-worried in the back of his mind over the fact he'll likely be getting back to find he's been fired from his most recent job after this little unanticipated absence. Hopefully not evicted, though. He's only a little behind on rent and he's got some cash squirreled away, he'd been figuring he could make it work. "But if that's how it works I won't say no if you figure I've pulled my weight and earned something," he adds as he dumps the sauce over the meat and then slides the pasta into the boiling water.

Dwayne nods. "Most of the people in the trade are elbow-deep in other things. Drugs, weapons, smuggling. Rivers of bad money. I don't know that any of us would feel right living high on what we take-" At least the people he works with the most, the ones who have an actual moral compass- "but when that money can buy better equipment, and gives us more time to focus on saving lives, I think we sleep okay with that."

He won't deny there's mercenaries out there that will take the check no matter where it comes from, but skimming from the bad guys means people get relocated safely, medical bills get paid, things they need like safehouses get bought without having to deal with a day job.

Less lies to juggle and fewer people at risk, for the handful of them at the core of the organization, and for the people just passing through, like Josh, it's a little bit of a hand up while they figure out just how serious they want to be about this.

Dwayne shrugs, and rubs the back of his neck, just a little wearily. It's amazing how big the whole thing has gotten, at times, and how he somehow managed to get in the middle of it. It still feels surreal to be the one in charge, especially on days like this when he lays it all out. It's not something he regrets, though...just has a hard time figuring out how it happened. He gives Josh a tired smile. "We don't count on it every time, but it happens often enough to be worth mentioning. But, the other side of it is, no freelancing, no helping yourself to the cookie jar, no side trips. You follow the rules, you get a share, but if you go cowboy, it puts everyone else at risk and we can't allow that."

He says it easily, though. Because he doesn't really expect Josh to be that type, not from what he's seen and said, but he has to say it anyway. All the rules up front.

Josh watches Dwayne sidelong as he works on dinner, the weariness in his posture and the way he rubs at his neck. It makes him feel a little bad for having added to his burden, because no matter how much he wants to help, and how useful he hopes he can make himself, that doesn't change the fact that dealing with him has made Dwayne's life more difficult in the short run. Still, there's nothing to do about it now other than try to pull his... not inconsiderable weight.

"Yeah, well." Josh ducks his head a little, his own smile wry. "I'm not really the cowboy type, so we should be good there. "Now if you need a mechanic, that I can do." Which doesn't seem likely, all things considered, but it's one of the few things he can bring to the table other than his size and ability (and reluctant willingness) to bash heads as needed. "But, yeah-" He gives the pasta a last stir and then turns to lean against the counter with a shrug, the active part of the cooking mostly handled for now. "Just... tell me what you want me to do and I'll do my best." Including staying quiet and out of the way as needed. "Might not be the military type, but I can take orders just fine when it's needed."

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Negotiations With Teeth

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