moving day

[searchingfordistraction]

". . . you want me to what?"

"I know you heard me."

"I think," Moran said, "it's time we discuss my next pay rise."

Jim rolled his eyes. "This isn't a job, Seb, it's a favor. You're free to say no."

Moran eyed him for a moment. Then he pulled out his mobile.



Long story short, here he is now, in a fake flat, with fake possessions in need of fake removal to another fake flat, with Jim all kitted up as Rich Brook on the sofa next to him, waiting for the doorbell to announce the arrival of a man who decided Icarus Removals was the kind of name that would inspire confidence in potential customers.

Jim fucking owes him.

Comments

[captaincrieff]

"They're not ginger," Martin says in a way that suggests he would give his left arm to permanently get rid of that little detail about himself.

And the freckles, too. Damn the freckles.

A late-model Lexus cuts them off, and Martin just barely avoids hitting it.

"Very cute. What are you even doing out here?" he asks the Lexus.

He does not give it the satisfaction of blowing his horn at it.

[searchingfordistraction]

Whatever Rich had been about to say - probably something about liking gingers that would sound appropriately reassuring in his head and completely embarrassing out loud - is lost to posterity when the Lexus cuts them off. He gives a surprised little yelp instead.

[captaincrieff]

"It's... fine. He does that all the time," Martin says, sounding exactly like someone who is frequently cut-off by a late-model Lexus.

"Are you all right?"

He's pretty sure Rich hasn't been injured, but he does look pretty nervous.

Lucky they're almost to the other flat.

[searchingfordistraction]

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Now he mostly looks embarrassed by his own reaction. He runs his hand through his hair, asking,

"Do you know him?"

[captaincrieff]

"Yeah, he's my co-pilot at my other job," Martin says. As he pulls into a suitable spot that's relatively close to the new flat, he checks his mirrors to make sure the Lexus hadn't followed them.

"He won't be joining us today."

He hopes.

[searchingfordistraction]

Rich cranes around to look out the window on his side.

"He's lucky I'm not American," he says, "or I'd be filing the lawsuit already."

[captaincrieff]

"He'd win," Martin says. He has no precedent with which to back this up, but... well, he would win.

He gets out of the van, locking the door behind him, and makes his way round the back to unlock everything back there and start moving it in.

"Get the door for me?" he asks.

[searchingfordistraction]

"'Course."

He's going to need a minute at the door to decide which key is which, though. Moran has a lot of keys.

[captaincrieff]

Martin needs a few minutes to load a couple of boxes onto the trolley anyway. Unpacking always takes a bit more time, because he likes to make sure that the boxes are still in one piece and won't drop everything out of the bottom or something.

He gets it loaded eventually and meets Rich up at the door.

[searchingfordistraction]

Where Rich, having found the right key, is now yanking it out of the keyhole after having tried to shove it in the wrong way up.

"The flat's on the ground floor, at least," he says weakly. That should make up for the time they're losing while he fails at keys.

[captaincrieff]

"Well, that's easy at least," he agrees.

He has no idea which boxes go where. They didn't label them, except for the one with the Russian on it, but Martin can sort of remember the order in which they were loaded into the van.

He's pretty sure these are bedroom boxes.

Maybe.

"Are you guys flatting, or are you just helping out?" he asks when he comes back out, ready to grab another stack from the van.

[searchingfordistraction]

Luckily, the key to the flat worked out a bit better.

"I'm just helping," Rich says. He pauses at the building's door, looking for a way to prop it open. It's a decent neighborhood, no reason not to.

"He helped me when I moved, fair's fair."

[captaincrieff]

Martin keeps moving through the conversation, so as not to take more time than he needs to. They've still got boxes at the other flat to move over yet, and the time packing has rather slowed them down already.

"Why didn't you use the same removalists?" he asks. "Didn't they work out?"

[mm_z]

Anything that Rich might have said after that is drowned out by someone who has turned the snark up to eleven.

"Oh, you know how it goes. This sort of job is always just temporary until something better comes along."

Richard, meet Douglas, the smug git leaning against the side of the van.

[searchingfordistraction]

Rich looks up from his task with the door at the sound of the new voice.

(There's a sharp flicker of instant dislike in his eyes as he does so, but it disappears a second later.)

"Good to have anything steady in this economy," he remarks. He would know; he is, after all, a woefully under-employed actor.

[captaincrieff]

The look Martin gives Rich right now says very plainly, Please don't bait him.

What he actually says (to Douglas), as he moves past him to get more boxes is, "Have you come to help?"

[mm_z]

Douglas almost seems to consider this for the briefest of moments.

"No, it is my day off. I don't think I will."

(Martin doesn't say anything, but he does make it very clear that he wishes Douglas would spend his day off somewhere very far away. Like maybe Mars.)

[searchingfordistraction]

Rich hangs back uncertainly, not wanting to step in and make anything worse for Martin.

(He needs the extra few seconds, too, to make sure he stays Rich.

Jim doesn't respond to people like Douglas very well. Just ask Carl Powers.

Oh, wait. You can't.)

[captaincrieff]

Martin doesn't even notice Rich's reactions right now. He's too busy trying to work around someone who refuses to move out of the way.

"What are you even doing in London anyway?" he asks.

(Douglas only shrugs. "What are you doing in London?" he asks.)

Managing to get the trolley on the other side of Douglas, Martin sighs deeply. "Rich, this is Douglas. The one I was telling you about the other day. Douglas, this is Rich."

("Charmed," says Douglas, though he doesn't sound it. He does have that look that people get when they think they might recognise someone, though.)

[searchingfordistraction]

"Good to meet you," Rich smiles.

When in doubt, pretend nothing is wrong until the doubt is eliminated. Or you find a way to deal with it.

[captaincrieff]

Martin brings the trolley inside.

"And he was just leaving."

[mm_z]

It takes Douglas an exaggerated moment to realise that Martin is talking about him.

"Oh, was I? I never said that. I just said I wasn't going to help."

He follows Martin inside, despite Martin's protests that he get out, now! and finds a wall to lean against.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asks Rich eventually.

[searchingfordistraction]

"I don't think so."

Another item to add to the list of Douglas's talents: the ability to make an actor decline an opportunity to be recognized.

But because Rich is an actor, there's no indication of tension to go along with his reply. His tone is casual, his body language flat and neutral. He seems to see nothing odd whatsoever about the situation.

He is not giving Douglas a thing to work with if he can possibly help it.

[mm_z]

The problem with this is that Douglas is good. After a few more moments of studying Rich, he snaps his fingers.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "You look an awful lot like someone I saw on the telly, reading some nonsense or other to a bunch of four-year-olds. Not that I'd admit to doing that, either. I can't imagine it gets you much luck in the bedroom department."

(Somewhere in the middle of all of this, Martin left to go fetch more boxes, telling Rich not to let Douglas touch anything, and in a tone that suggests Douglas touching something means that something will disappear.)

[searchingfordistraction]

And somewhere around the point where Martin left, he relaxed a little, leaning against the wall with his head tipped to the side in a lazy way that suggests, very subtly, that Douglas would do well to keep his hands to himself.

"Do I?" he asks idly.