dishonests | ◤eudio, cuddlr◢

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◤eudio, cuddlr◢

CASSIDY HAWKING (21)

pirate captain — from the 18th century — will plunder your treasure, shiver your timbers, and jolly your roger.

✓ ✕

YES / MATCH / TICK

NO / TICK

[ it takes him aback, how quickly she arrives at the root of it. existing in a world where everyone looks out for their own interests can be lonely. the most difficult thing for cassidy to adjust to in eudio, more than the communicators or electricity or indoor plumbing, was not always having to look over his shoulder. he still sleeps with a knife under his pillow, but not once has he had to use it.

he could argue that he's not lonely, that he's surrounded by people at sea, and on land he hardly ever spends a night alone, but the words never make it to his lips. he has a loyal crew, but he would only count a few among them as true friends. as for the rest, their loyalty only lasts while they see cassidy as surest way to get what they want. his smiles thinly. ]

Well, Miss Morton, trust that you'll be the first person I tell, should I chance upon the answer.

[ but his smile grows more genuine a moment later. ] At any rate, you always was a sensible creature.

[ at her laughter, his expression brightens further. gone are any shadows of a moment ago. if she spends enough time with him, she might discover he lied about the pendant. it's actually the only one of his accessories he didn't steal. he almost never removes it, and he holds it between his fingers from time to time. when he's alone, he pries the locket apart with the tip of his knife and looks at what's inside — a small coil of dark hair on one side, and on the other a coil of sandy-blonde hair, a shade off from his own, that belonged to a girl he once knew. but, for tonight at least, cassidy would much rather make roxy laugh at his antics than pity him for his losses. ]

Very well. Drop your anchor, I'll not be gone a minute. [ he gets up from the table and weaves back towards the bar.

it's more than a minute, of course, probably closer to five or six, by the time he returns with two old fashioned glasses of some orangeish drink. as he sinks into his seat, he pushes one towards her. ]

This here be one of the most pleasing mixtures you're like to get at sea. We call it bumbo, though I reckon the sort they make here is better suited to landlubbers such as yourself. [ with a cheeky grin, he raises his glass to knock against hers. ]

[ Roxy wrinkles her nose a little at the way he addresses her - Miss Morton. It's nearly as bad as being called Roxanne (which is only reserved for her parents and situations of high importance and formality, in her opinion). She appreciates the politeness of it, but she'd also like to think they've passed the stage of formalities - especially considering they've known each other since well before now, even if she doesn't remember it. It still counts.

But she also has the feeling that he's just doing it to get under her skin, which is why she doesn't correct him. It's not that bothersome, just a matter of preference, and if he is meaning to ruffle her feathers a bit then she's not going to acknowledge it at all. ]

Good. You never know, my very life could depend on it one day. [ The answer, she means, but she's just teasing judging by the way she looks at him, one corner of her mouth curled just so, and a hint of playfulness in her eyes.

Drop your anchor makes her laugh a little and she shoos him off with a subtle wave of her hand, taking the time that he's gone to have a look around the pub. She makes note of little, seemingly unimportant details (habit), listens in on a few seconds of random conversations here and there, and even watches Cassidy at the bar for a moment or two, trying to decide what to make of him.

He's charming in an odd way that she wouldn't really expect from a pirate - or the stereotype of one, anyway. Kind, intelligent, intriguing, and willing to give their friendship another go, which is honestly a little bit of a relief. The two of them are as different as two people could possibly be, and yet - Roxy likes him.

But that doesn't mean she trusts him. Not yet. She offers him a closed-lipped smile when he returns to the table, reaching out to take the glass he slid towards her and lifting it to clink against his - but instead of taking a drink, she keeps her hand right where it is, raised with their glasses still touching, and she tilts her head. ] ... Swap with me.

[ the use of a formal address is partly habit — it's all mister and miss, sir and ma'am, my lord and my lady where he's from — but mostly it's meant to tease her. it's a sign of affection, really. proof of how much he likes her. schoolyard tactics. first names are reserved for more serious situations, when he really wants someone's attention or to stress a point, or if he forgets, in the heat of a moment, to be coy.

at present, they're still just having fun while learning how to be friends. somehow, despite their differences, it comes easily with roxy. it could just be simple attraction, but it's always felt a little deeper than that with her. perhaps it's because she's not a shallow person, and cassidy's never been content to remain in the shallows.

despite their differences, they also have a few important similarities. the way roxy takes stock of her environment is something cassidy learned to do from a young age. if you weren't careful on the docks in bristol, you risked getting press-ganged. if you weren't tuned into your surroundings when you stepped foot in a tavern in port royal or down a side street in nassau, you risked getting jumped. constant vigilance is a survival skill. so is not trusting someone you've just met.

so her request ( demand? ) doesn't surprise him, but he feigns a shocked look all the same, placing a hand over his chest. ] Miss Morton, you wound me to my marrow, you do! What kind of villain do you think I be?

[ secretly, he's impressed by her savvy, not that he tampered with her drink. because he didn't. ]

Here now. [ he places his own glass in front of her, and holds out his hand for hers. ] I'll show you I'm no ruffian.

[ Truthfully, Cassidy hasn't given her any reason to believe that he'd do anything as unsavory as tampering with her drink — aside from being a pirate who are notorious for being untrustworthy in general, outside of their own circles. But it's Roxy's job to be careful, to expect and anticipate the unexpected — and, she may or may not have been drugged before, only to wake up with her wrists and ankles tied down to a set of train tracks, with a train on its way.

It's just a precaution, and, perhaps, also a small test.

She smiles a little at his theatrics, but even in his feigned shock, she holds to her request. If he hasn't done anything, he'll swap, and if he refuses, well then she really has no reason to stick around and waste any more time. ]

Not a very smart one, if you are.

[ A villain, she means. She's only teasing (somewhat), and when he frees his hand of his drink and holds it open for hers, she presses her glass into his hand, careful only to let it go once he's got it.

She lowers her hand, fingers settling around the glass in front of her, but still, she doesn't drink. Carefully, she tilts her chin up a little, cants her head slightly. Waiting. ]

... Go on then.

[ Prove it. ]

[ some pirates are untrustworthy, even in their own circles. it's not exactly a job that attracts upstanding people, even if most of them do have some semblance of honor and loyalty. there are those that would tamper with a woman's drink, or anyone's drink for that matter, though they'd be more likely to rob the person blind than tie them to train tracks- if train tracks existed in his time. she's right to be cautious. she's actually one of the few people here to treat him as a potential threat, rather than some kind of romantic hero come to life.

it makes him like her all the more. he drops the theatrics, revealing a sharp look and a sly grin. ]

Here's to clever lasses.

[ he clinks his glass against hers and throws his back, downing the contents in one go. as he sets his glass down, he makes the sound of a man coming up for air and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ]

As I thought, a fair deal sweeter than the kind back home.

[ he rotates is glass on the table, his eyes meeting hers. it goes without saying, now, but he says it anyway- ]

Hang me for a cur if I'd ever wish a woman such as yourself any harm. [ he winks. ] Unless she wish it upon me first.

[ Roxy picks up her glass, offering a small, polite smile when Cassidy clinks his own drink against hers, but even then, she waits until he's had a mouthful before she sips any of her own. It's one thing to agree to swap drinks to satisfy her concerns, but making sure he actually drinks it is what actually matters. But's not coughing or choking or otherwise dying, so she feels confident enough that she'll be all right. And that Cassidy is a little more honest than perhaps his image implies.

She wets her lips as she sets her glass down, chasing any of the sweetness left behind on them. ]

That's quite nice, actually.

[ Not too sweet in her own opinion, but she prefers sweeter things anyway, and she understands that the ingredients available now may not have been available back in his time, so it's bound to taste different to what he knows.

Roxy glances up from watching his fingers toying with his empty glass, her eyes meeting with his. The corner of her mouth quirks a little and she tilts her head slightly. ]

They've done away with capital punishment in the U.K. [ She pauses, then offers something that might sound more familiar to him. ] In London. But even if they hadn't, I wouldn't worry - I'm not as easily overtaken as you might assume.

[ Roxy pauses for only a moment, and then raises her glass to take another sip from him, looking straight at Cassidy over the rim. ]

Would I steer you wrong?

[ the answer is no. not intentionally. he may have had to choke down some truly terrible mixtures in his life, but it's perhaps for that reason that he appreciates a good taste all the more. he leans forward, his elbows on the edge of the table. one hand continues to fiddle with his glass, for lack of anything better to do.

well, he could think of several better things to be doing with his hands, but they're not at that point just yet.

her information piques the interest of one of his eyebrows. ] Have they, truly? [ a wry laugh twists from his lips. ] What do the townsfolk gather around for entertainment, lacking a good public execution?

[ he wonders if they've done away with the pillory, too. but, truth be told, he's much more interested in the look roxy gives him as she sips her drink. his grin is small this time. private. and just a little bit hungry. ]

Banish the thought, Miss Morton. I'd never assume such a thing about you.

Not intentionally, I don't think. You'd be silly to try.

[ It's a mostly-teasing retort, and she punctuates it with a serious look that dissolves into a quiet laugh and a smile, if only for the sake of appearing unassuming and less than what she really is. Roxy's proud of the woman she's become, of what she can do, what she's capable of as a Kingsman agent now that she's completed her training and become the new Lancelot - but part of the responsibility is appearing to be something she isn't. Being unassuming enough that no one would suspect she's anything more than the simple tailor she claims to be.

Roxy's gaze drops again, drawn to the subtle movement of his fingers around his glass. She's not necessarily distracted, but she is thinking. Cassidy knows her from her time before - but how much does he know? How well did they know each other?

Her eyes flicker up briefly at the sound of his laugh. She smiles. ]

Their phones, mostly. [ Which is kind of alarming, only for the fact that Valentine nearly wiped out the entire human population by relying on the fact that nearly everyone is attached to their cell phone these days. Fortunately, she and Eggsy and Merlin managed to stop him before too much damage could be done.

Roxy shrugs her shoulder. ] EastEnders. Football.

[ No hangings or public humiliation to speak of.

There's a small pause, just a short moment of silence before Roxy lifts her hand from where it's been resting at the base of her glass, and reaches out slowly, gingerly touching her fingertips to the rings on the hand fiddling with his drink. She doesn't mean to stop him, she's just - looking. Expressing a sort of interest, perhaps.

Flirting, maybe, in the subtlest of ways.

She glances up for a moment, just long enough to pose her question, before her eyes fall back to their hands. ] What would you assume, if you were to make assumptions, Captain?

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