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rainbowfic2019-09-12 04:04 pm
ilthit) wrote in rainbowfic2019-09-12 04:04 pm
Entry tags:
Canary Yellow #7: Running Out of Hills (The Quality of Mercy)
Name: Running Out of Hills
Story: The Quality of Mercy (Peccadillo Parlour)
Colors: Canary yellow #7: Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.
Supplies and Styles: n/a
Word Count: 676
Rating: teen
Warnings: Reference to violence.
Summary: Jimmy and Pru agree to a plan.
Brunch was at their regular place. Pru rather hated they had a regular place, even if it wasn't just for her and Jimmy. This little lunch restaurant with its high dark wood paneling was close to their block, right across from the place everyone at the office ended up in whenever someone said, 'Hey, wanna meet up for drinks after work?' Overhead, she could almost feel the eyes of the named partners on the back of her head.
Still, it wasn't the office. Pru poked at her salad, resting her chin on her palm. Jimmy had wanted them to meet here. That meant he'd already had an idea yesterday when they spoke on the phone, and that it was a dirty one. "Well?"
It was a tell, the way he gently turned the vegan burger with his knife and fork and sliced into it, wrists held high like a concert pianist. "Well. Somebody screwed up. And we don't want it to be you."
"Right."
"So we make it someone else. Someone no-one expects. Cadfield played you, young and inexperienced as you were, but someone else put pressure on you to swallow his story. Someone you trusted, who held power over you. Someone who will claim he never even heard of the case, someone who has been publicly decrying your involvement this whole time. He will say the accusation is preposterous; and yet it will turn out that he was indeed close to you at the time, that he was sponsoring you, even commended you on securing the lighter sentence..."
"Jimmy," Prudence breathed. Her nail wandered dangerously close to her teeth; she could feel a heat on her face. Pru never blushed for embarrassment, but her heart beat faster at what he was suggesting. "No."
"Don't," said Jimmy. The look he gave over the hovering piece of vegan burger on his fork was one of open disgust. "You thought of it yourself. You've been thinking about it this whole time. This was your idea."
Pru's head twitched to the side, only half-way into a shake. What had she been thinking, if it wasn't selling out Gordon? Her mentor, the one who’d given her a leg up when she’d had her race and her sex stacked up against her and the world to conquer.
She’d been stymied for days. She just hadn’t let herself think it all the way through. "My aunt will never forgive me," she said quietly.
The monstrosity of it. The betrayal. This wasn't about bending the small rules to do your duty by your client. It wasn't even like the animal things people did to one another when they decided other people weren't real. Humanity was drenched in ugliness, but she had always stayed outside it, above it in some ways. This was...
This wasn’t a moral panic she was feeling, she realized. That part of herself that was outside of her, watching her emotions from a cool, analytical distance, knew that perfectly well. To save herself, she would sell out old wandering-hands Gordon. There was no question about it. The problem was that while Jimmy's plan might save her face in public, she'd never fool Aunt Amelia, let alone Violet. They would know what she had done.
This could drag her down for years. And if they did somehow pull it off—it would mean lying to everybody she loved, and selling the lie. Living with it.
But isn’t that in the job description?
Jimmy cocked his head. There was a touch of that old familiar glint in his eye as he waited and watched.
“I have to think about it,” said Pru. She did not bite her nail, but rested her fingertips on her lips. It wasn’t true, of course. She just had to work through the fear.
“I wouldn’t linger too long. I heard from Curtis. They’re charging Cadfield tomorrow morning.”
Oh, he had her. That was it. He had won. She sighed and dropped her hand. “All right.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s do it, you bastard. Let’s go get him.”
“Atta girl.”
Story: The Quality of Mercy (Peccadillo Parlour)
Colors: Canary yellow #7: Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.
Supplies and Styles: n/a
Word Count: 676
Rating: teen
Warnings: Reference to violence.
Summary: Jimmy and Pru agree to a plan.
Brunch was at their regular place. Pru rather hated they had a regular place, even if it wasn't just for her and Jimmy. This little lunch restaurant with its high dark wood paneling was close to their block, right across from the place everyone at the office ended up in whenever someone said, 'Hey, wanna meet up for drinks after work?' Overhead, she could almost feel the eyes of the named partners on the back of her head.
Still, it wasn't the office. Pru poked at her salad, resting her chin on her palm. Jimmy had wanted them to meet here. That meant he'd already had an idea yesterday when they spoke on the phone, and that it was a dirty one. "Well?"
It was a tell, the way he gently turned the vegan burger with his knife and fork and sliced into it, wrists held high like a concert pianist. "Well. Somebody screwed up. And we don't want it to be you."
"Right."
"So we make it someone else. Someone no-one expects. Cadfield played you, young and inexperienced as you were, but someone else put pressure on you to swallow his story. Someone you trusted, who held power over you. Someone who will claim he never even heard of the case, someone who has been publicly decrying your involvement this whole time. He will say the accusation is preposterous; and yet it will turn out that he was indeed close to you at the time, that he was sponsoring you, even commended you on securing the lighter sentence..."
"Jimmy," Prudence breathed. Her nail wandered dangerously close to her teeth; she could feel a heat on her face. Pru never blushed for embarrassment, but her heart beat faster at what he was suggesting. "No."
"Don't," said Jimmy. The look he gave over the hovering piece of vegan burger on his fork was one of open disgust. "You thought of it yourself. You've been thinking about it this whole time. This was your idea."
Pru's head twitched to the side, only half-way into a shake. What had she been thinking, if it wasn't selling out Gordon? Her mentor, the one who’d given her a leg up when she’d had her race and her sex stacked up against her and the world to conquer.
She’d been stymied for days. She just hadn’t let herself think it all the way through. "My aunt will never forgive me," she said quietly.
The monstrosity of it. The betrayal. This wasn't about bending the small rules to do your duty by your client. It wasn't even like the animal things people did to one another when they decided other people weren't real. Humanity was drenched in ugliness, but she had always stayed outside it, above it in some ways. This was...
This wasn’t a moral panic she was feeling, she realized. That part of herself that was outside of her, watching her emotions from a cool, analytical distance, knew that perfectly well. To save herself, she would sell out old wandering-hands Gordon. There was no question about it. The problem was that while Jimmy's plan might save her face in public, she'd never fool Aunt Amelia, let alone Violet. They would know what she had done.
This could drag her down for years. And if they did somehow pull it off—it would mean lying to everybody she loved, and selling the lie. Living with it.
But isn’t that in the job description?
Jimmy cocked his head. There was a touch of that old familiar glint in his eye as he waited and watched.
“I have to think about it,” said Pru. She did not bite her nail, but rested her fingertips on her lips. It wasn’t true, of course. She just had to work through the fear.
“I wouldn’t linger too long. I heard from Curtis. They’re charging Cadfield tomorrow morning.”
Oh, he had her. That was it. He had won. She sighed and dropped her hand. “All right.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s do it, you bastard. Let’s go get him.”
“Atta girl.”
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