Negotiations With Teeth

[ticktockgrin]

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.

Comments

[tinkermoose]

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.

[ticktockgrin]

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.

[tinkermoose]

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."