#rl sleepy... have errands today...

[sternenteile]

RUSSIAN CLASSICS AESTHETICS.

BOLD  whatever applies to / attracts your muse.    

TAGGED BY :  gently pilfered this from @legendcrown......... TAGGING :  i’m half-asleep rn hodijgoishigg i cant think of names just! do it if u want to!!

BROTHERS KARAMAZOV : orthodox monasteries , deep woods , starry nights , the sound of paper being torn , dimly lit rooms , withered roses , an unfinished letter , piles of books  , the sound of shattering glass , ticking of clocks in a silent house ,  heavy wooden furniture , the air before a storm , the smell of earth  , a crowd of people dressed in black , distant murmurs ,  emptied streets , the fear of walking alone in dusk

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT  : coldness of the skin against a blade , slender pale fingers & slightly shaking hands , a red stain blooming on white fabric , lonely steps in a corridor ,  the slow dripping of water , looking out of the window into the thickening darkness , a single dying candle on the table , listening to one’s breath  &  counting heartbeats ,  too many stairs , the desire to be invisible , a subtle memory of kind words

THE IDIOT  : classical statues , wealth covered with dust , a dark house tainted with inherited madness , an unsettling feeling , long walks in a park  , useless chatter , a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench ,  a melancholic face , an unexpected spring rain  , the joy of reading one’s favorite book , the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around , looking at cloudless sky

ANNA KARENINA : fields of crops , flowers brought from an early morning walk , the wind caressing a girl’s hair , a bowl of fruit , the smell of ripe pears , the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea , children’s laughter coming from the garden , soft sunlight  & white curtains  , the sensation of velvet against skin  , pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor , a sudden silence in a room full of people

WAR AND PEACE  : a glass of wine , the brightness of  a crystal chandelier , white lace , a raging snow storm , the sound of a door being gently closed , the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room , indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light , closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing ,  the sweet smell of strawberries  ,  a pair of gloves left on an armchair  , light scent of powder

THE MASTER AND MARGARITA  : the chaos of a lively city , ambient jazz in an expensive restaurants , jumping on a moving tram , the sight of moscow from the roof of a house , yellow flowers in a vase , leaning out of the window , shelves stacked with books , a small tin box with old photographs , strange shapes in the night sky , laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony , colorful posters for a magician’s show floating in the wind

EUGENE ONEGIN : a lonely mansion , reading a book in the parlour , faint piano melody lingering in falling silence , long evenings , passing seasons ,  discussing french novels of the moment , unspoken thoughts , leaning against the door frame , eating a peach absent-minded , bright mornings , footprints in snow , a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby

FATHERS AND SONS  : birch groves  , morning mist ,  moss-covered stones near a moor , scientific books , white roses , cheap champagne , shabby pocket - watch , light - hearted irony , a maladroit cello sonata , freshly mowed grass , letting thoughts come & go , a slow yawn , picturesque plates / bowls filled with traditional dishes , drinking tea on the porch

DOCTOR ZHIVAGO  : a strange feeling of loss , writing poems in a diary , traveling by train , the hesitation before touching someone’s hand , the gaze of one lost in thought , the warmth of cinnamon , a scarf brightly embellished with flowers , a glass of water , a threadbare jacket  , the tempting void , the evanescent serenity of yesterday.

CHERRY ORCHARD  : a lone chair in an empty room , falling blossoms , old samovar , the unsettling need for change , a mirror reflecting full moon , the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance , a piano out of tune.

[meetmeatthecoda]

Grifting With The Enemy: Chapter 2!

Ah, here it is, at long last! Sorry it took so long guys. It was a bit of a struggle, I’ve got some RL things going on. But I’m steadily chipping away at this story, don’t worry! So I hope you enjoy this chapter! It will also be posted on my FF.net and Ao3. Please feel free to send me any feedback or comments! They are much appreciated! Thank you! :D Below the cut <3

Red heaves a sigh, easing himself down into his favorite armchair, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He had only a handful of meetings today but he is exhausted. He hasn’t been sleeping enough and he’s been drinking far too much, as evidenced by the size of the bags under his eyes and the amount of scotch in his tumbler. He would go to bed now and sleep like the dead but he’s waiting for Dembe to return from his…errand.

After thanking Gordon, Red and Dembe had left the office building and gone straight back to the car. As soon as the door had closed behind them, Red had only one thing to say to Dembe:

“I want everything you can get me on her.”

Dembe had just nodded and drove them back to their current safehouse while Red made some phone calls in the back. When they had arrived, Dembe made a few of his own phone calls to various contacts of Red’s, aiming to collect the intel Red wanted. He had left soon after to pick it up.

At the moment, Red wants to see him safely back and then hopefully have a bit of late night reading on his new most intriguing associate: Elizabeth Scott.

Liz.

Lizzie.

He knows it’s a sizeable risk to take on a new grifter so quickly without the proper background checks first but there was just something about her…Red couldn’t help but say yes to her impossibly blue eyes. And her quick reflexes. He still isn’t sure how she managed to swipe his wallet. But, at the same time, she was also sure to swipe his…interest. Dembe thinks he’s foolish, surely. Red can tell, knows him too well to expect anything else. And Red doesn’t blame him. He usually makes a point of being more immune to women he’s working with. At least before he gets to know them better.

But with Lizzie, he can’t seem to help himself. He wonders if this will become a habit. He wonders if he cares.

Red’s musings are interrupted by a key rattling in the lock. Ah, Dembe is back. Wonderful. The door opens and the man in question shuffles in, carrying a thick manila envelope. Red can immediately see how tired Dembe is by the slump of his shoulders and the hang of his head. He will sleep deeply tonight.

“Here is the information you requested, Raymond.” He says softly, handing him the envelope.

“Thank you very much, my friend. Get some rest.”

Dembe nods sleepily and heads to his room.

Red puts his scotch down and eagerly turns to the envelope, breaking the seal and leaning forward in his chair to spread out the contents on the coffee table. The first thing he sees are several undercover photographs of Liz in action, wearing a variety of subtle disguises, including sunglasses, beanies, and wigs. He feels the corners of his mouth pull up into a soft smile, seeing the talented, and beautiful, young thief at work.

The photographs show Liz in and outside an assortment of establishments that all look…strangely familiar. Red frowns, flipping through the photographs faster. His eyebrows lower as he lays the photographs out next to each other on the coffee table.

No, he’s not mistaken. And no, this can’t be a coincidence.

“Don’t think I haven’t heard of you.” she’d said.

Red scoffs and collapses back into his arm chair, picking up his scotch and taking a generous swig, shaking his head. He should have known something about her was too good to be true. Every photograph, every place Liz is shown to be robbing, is a business Red has significant ties to and investments in.

Elizabeth Scott has been stealing from him.

Red waits for the familiar surge of anger that should accompany the discovery of such a betrayal. He should be mad, livid, beside himself.

But it doesn’t come.

Red quickly realizes that of the various things he is feeling, anger is not among them. Irritation perhaps, and a touch of annoyance at the sizable inconvenience that Liz was able to cause for his businesses but there is mostly surprise. Awe. And more…interest.

How intriguing.

Red then realizes that, strangely, he has no intention of renouncing Liz. He still wants to use her for this heist. After all, if she can steal that successfully from him, he can’t imagine what havoc she can wreak on his enemies. And the odds are she was being consistently hired by his adversaries to steal from him, not mounting a full-fledged attack on his empire of her own accord. She wouldn’t have met with him if she was trying to declare a war. Liz may be a thief but she’s not stupid. Yes, he will use her for this heist. At any rate, it will keep her from stealing any more from him for the length of the operation. He’ll make sure of that. Keep your enemies close and all that.

(At least, this is what Red will tell Dembe when he inevitably asks if Red has lost his mind. And Dembe will scoff and shake his head and not believe him. And Red won’t blame him.)

Red nods to himself, satisfied with his plan of action. He takes another sip of scotch and then leans forward to pick up a typed sheet of information that was included in the packet of photographs, skimming the facts about Lizzie collected by his trustworthy sources. Orphan, adopted father, raised in Nebraska, bachelor’s degree in psychology (Red snorts at that. Psychology. The perfect useless degree for an aspiring thief), currently single (Red tries not to linger over that fact), apartment in a nearby DC suburb. Red stops.

Hmm.

Perhaps he and Dembe will pay Lizzie a little visit tomorrow morning. He can question her thoroughly about her recent business endeavors and get her up to date on the heist. And perhaps he will finally gain the upper hand in this little dance of theirs.

He smiles in anticipation at the thought.

-----------------

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Dembe mutters to him, keeping watch, glancing subtly up and down the empty hallway.

Red shoots him a look from his current position, crouched down in front of Elizabeth Scott’s apartment door.

Picking the lock.

“You’re just grumpy because I got you up so early,” Red says, jiggling the pick a little.

Dembe grumbles something unintelligible. Because it is early. 7:00am, as a matter of fact. But Red wants to be there well before Lizzie wakes. To surprise her, unnerve her, show her that he is not someone to be trifled with, despite all her successful thievery from him.

(And perhaps the thought of her all warm and sleepy sends a thrill through him but that doesn’t matter. Not at all.)

Red sighs in relief as he finally moves the last tumbler and the lock clicks back. 45 seconds. Not bad by any means but certainly not his best time. He’s out of practice.

Red stands swiftly and eases the door open, slipping his lock-picking tools into his pocket, while Dembe, with a final cautionary glance down the hallway, follows him inside.

Hearing Dembe close and re-lock the door behind him, Red moves slowly into the apartment, listening closely for any movement upstairs that might indicate Lizzie is awake. He hears nothing. He sheds his coat and hat, placing them neatly on the back of a chair by the door that holds her purse and other going-out essentials. He tries to shake a strangely domestic feeling as he does so. He moves forward past the little entrance hall into the main living area. It is quite a beautiful loft apartment. Red can’t wait to snoop.

He moves forward eagerly to inspect the closest thing, her bookshelf. It is surprisingly well packed for a young thief fresh out of college. Red expects to see girly magazines and sappy romance novels. But instead he sees a plethora of psychology books, ranging from encyclopedia sized to the average novel length. Red frowns. Her college textbooks perhaps? No, it doesn’t look like it. Well, perhaps she has a vesting interest in the human psyche after all. Interesting. He skims the remaining books, a mixture of classics and murder mysteries.

Hm.

He moves on, around her comfortable looking leather couch, and crouches down to her modest entertainment center to peer at her DVD collection. He expects much the same as he did with her books, chick flicks and romances. But he is once again surprised, seeing only a handful of “girly” movies that are lightly sprinkled amongst a variety of dramas and psychological thrillers that would probably grace his own collection, if he ever stayed long enough in one place to amass one.

Red frowns, straightening up, and turns around to actually look at the apartment, doing a 360 degree turn to take it all in.

There is light, simple décor on the walls and a handful of neatly framed paintings, which are an interesting mix of minimalist and impressionist styles with, unbelievably, a well-painted portrait of Freud on the far wall.

Red blinks, confused. This is Lizzie's apartment? This doesn't make any sense. Red prides himself in his ability to read people and have an accurate idea of their personality, likes, and dislikes within the first ten minutes of meeting them. This kind of skill comes from years of experience and keen observation. Following his instincts, he had easily pegged Elizabeth for a typical young girl in her early twenties. But this apartment clearly shows the personality of a slightly older, more sophisticated, very intelligent, introspective woman.

How fascinating.

If there was any doubt that Red would be working with Lizzie before, there certainly isn’t now. Red has never been more stunned by a first meeting and then this completely turned around by a second. Elizabeth is a mystery. And he is curious.

And when Red gets curious, he digs deeper.

Red is snapped out of his enthralled stupor by a creak from upstairs.

Elizabeth is up.

A strange thrill goes through him at the thought and he hurriedly pushes it aside, walking to the couch and sitting down, adjusting his vest. Dembe takes his place behind the couch. Ah, the old breaking-in-and-making-himself-comfortable routine. It unnerves people every time. He smirks, already pleased with himself, as he sees movement at the top of the stairs.

"Good morning, Lizzie!"

He takes pleasure in seeing her jump, almost falling down the stairs in her surprise, hand going to her ankle apparently out of habit. Interesting. She probably wears a knife strapped to leg. He'll remember that.

She straightens up quickly, seeming to realize she's just given something away, and plasters a carefree smile on her face, smoothing down her oversized t-shirt.

Her oversized t-shirt.

"Well, good morning, Red. Dembe."

The only thing she's wearing.

"This is certainly a pleasant surprise."

No, he sees a peek of blue cotton as she sashays down the rest of the stairs. She's wearing blue cotton panties and an oversized t-shirt. That's all.

And she's waiting for him to speak.

Dembe surreptitiously kicks the back of the couch.

Red clears his throat.

"Yes, I imagine it is."

Great. He's come here to take her off guard and somehow, he's still the one to end up speechless. He should have anticipated her state of undress and been prepared for it. But even if he had, he gets the feeling it wouldn't have mattered much. Her legs look even more smooth and endless when they are bare and jean-less.

With considerable effort, he drags his eyes up her legs to stare at her face, which is smirking at him once again. Her hair is pulled up in a messy, sleep-tousled ponytail and her face is free of makeup, pale and pretty. Natural.

He thinks fleetingly that she doesn't need makeup. She's gorgeous.

She’s also standing with her arms crossed and her hip cocked in what he’s coming to recognize as her trademark confident pose, once again asserting dominance over Red.

Now that won't do.

"What can I help you with this early in the morning, gentlemen?" She asks politely. "The heist isn't today, is it?" She smirks again, teasing Red.

Oh, she's so young.

"No, it's not, Lizzie. But I thought you might want to discuss the details of the job sooner rather than later."

“At 7:30 in the morning?"

Red shrugs, smiling pleasantly.

"We're early risers."

He can feel Dembe seething behind him. Ah well. He'll make it up to him with Indian food for dinner tonight.

“I also thought you’d like to know that it has come to my attention that you’ve made… rather a habit of stealing from my interests.” He watches her carefully. She stiffens slightly but maintains her uninterested expression.

“Oh, yes? Well, I must admit I was wondering when you would figure that out. But it’s nothing personal, Red, I was hired to do all those jobs and I was paid good money to do them. You’ve rather a lot of enemies, if you haven’t noticed.” She grins tightly at him, still wary.

“Oh, yes, I’ve noticed.” He smiles darkly. “But there’s no need to look so ill at ease, Lizzie, I assumed as much. And I understand a young thief such as yourself has to make money wherever she can.” He sees some of the tension leave her shoulders at the sincerity in his voice. “I’m willing to forgive your past… indiscretions against me in exchange for not taking any other jobs from now until after our heist is complete. I assure you that your cut will have you well compensated for any gigs you may miss in the meantime.”

She pauses, narrowing her eyes a little at him, trying to gauge the amount of honesty she sees there. He stares back at her calmly, openly, unperturbed.

“You want a truce?” she inquires suspiciously.

“I suppose that’s a good name for it, yes.” He agrees. “Mostly to make sure you aren’t stealing from me behind my back.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You really think I’d be stupid enough to double-dip from Raymond Reddington?”

He smiles in spite of himself. “No, I don’t. But it pays to be cautious.” He says simply. “This pact will also ensure your complete and utter availability and loyalty for this heist. My previous grifter got into a spot of trouble with a simple gig he took to keep himself busy.”

“Enrique? Yeah, I heard about that.”

“You’ll understand the necessity then.”

She hesitates, her blue eyes flickering back and forth between his green ones.

Hers are the color of a clear, cloudless, bright blue, early morning sky. Beautiful.

“All right, then,” she agrees finally. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“Wonderful!” proclaims Red, smiling brightly at her. “With that little matter out of the way, we can move on to more pleasant business! Now, this heist –“

"Hang on,” She interrupts with a chuckle, holding her hand up to stop him before he can get going, “I don't know about you two but I need some coffee in me before I discuss work. Want a cup?"

"Oh, please." Replies Red, equally surprised and delighted, as she turns and pads to the small kitchen to plug in the coffee maker.

Red tries not to stare at her as she goes.

Dembe clears his throat pointedly as he passes Red, following Liz to the kitchen. 

"Oh, shut it." Red mutters to him as he stands and makes his way to the kitchen as well.

Dembe snorts quietly but otherwise stays quiet.

"How do you like your coffee?" Liz asks politely, bustling around, setting out milk, sugar, and mugs on the island, still sans pants.

"Would you like to dress before we begin?" Red questions courteously, both for her comfort and for his sanity.

Liz shrugs, perching on a kitchen stool at the island and demurely crossing her legs. Red notices that her lower half is tactfully hidden by the counter.

"This is how I usually eat breakfast. Does it make you uncomfortable?"

Red works his mouth.

"Not at all."

Lizzie grins.

"Alright then."

Dembe hides his smirk behind his mug.

"So," Liz starts, taking a sip of her coffee (three creams and two sugars, Red notes) and once again taking the lead, "What do I need to know about this heist?"

Red sighs, taking a fortifying gulp of his own coffee (just one sugar, Liz notes) and smooths down his tie, preparing himself.

Time to impress.

"Our target is one Amos Rodfield," Red begins imperiously, feeling both very comfortable with commanding a room and very excited at commanding Lizzie's attention, "owner of the AR&M Bank in downtown D.C."

But, once again, he doesn't get very far.

"AM&R?" Liz repeats, somewhat incredulously.

"Yes," Red answers, a little irritated at being interrupted one sentence into his tirade. "It stands for 'Amos Rodfield and Money'. Not very original, I know."

"No, I know what it stands for." Liz says, waving her hand as if batting away a fly. "But we in the grifting business call it 'The Fortress'. That place is impenetrable."

"Perhaps for some." Red states confidently.

Lizzie's eyes narrow at his cockiness. He feels a tiny stab of guilt. He finds himself quickly speaking again to get rid of that sliver of irritation he sees in her eyes.

"But I think with the combination of my sizeable resources and your substantial skills, we'll be able to accomplish it without difficulty."

The thinly veiled compliment seems to please her, her blue eyes lightening, and Red feels an easing in his chest.

"All right then," Liz says flippantly. "I'm always up for a challenge." She grins at him in a way that makes his heart stutter.

Ah. Well then.

"So, what did the poor Mr. Rodfield do to bring your formidable wrath down on him?" She quirks her eyebrow at him.

Red chuckles, endlessly amused by her.

"I was a loyal client of his for many years, storing a large portion of my funds in his bank with complete trust in his discretion and animosity." Liz leans forward a little on her stool, becoming enthralled with his dramatic storytelling, his hands gesturing to bring even more life to his words. "But after seven years of loyal service, one minor competitor comes knocking and he gives away some important information with only a few questions asked."

Liz frowns. "But why would he do that to you after seven years?"

"Well, to be fair, I don't think he meant to. My competitor and their motives were well disguised."

"Well then, why don't you punish the competitor, not the banker?"

"What makes you think I didn't?" Red ask with a strange, dark glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down her spine.

"Not to worry, I took care of the main problem.” He continues easily. “But Amos really should have known better. Loyalty is invaluable in my business, especially when it comes to money. So, I withdrew all my funds immediately and made it clear that I would never again be paying for his unreliable service."

"And that isn't enough?"

"Not quite. It was a rather well publicized betrayal and people connected to me may get the idea that little slipups like that are acceptable, if they can get away with it. They most certainly are not. So, my goal is to rob Amos and make it obvious it was me, thereby sending a message to the rest of the criminal world that I am not someone to be tested. It’s the price of business, you see, Lizzie."

Liz nods. She is not unfamiliar with the vindictive ways of criminals in Raymond Reddington's circle. But she can't help but admire all the thought and planning that obviously goes into Red’s every movement, so unlike the clumsy low-level crooks and drug dealers she usually deals with.

"Okay," Liz says easily. "So what now?"

Red just looks at her for a moment, surprised at her acceptance of the back-stabbing and two-faced nature of the criminal underworld he lives in. He can't help but look at her and wonder how such a young, beautiful, talented thing like her became so deeply immersed in the world of crime. And why does she seem so at home there?

Red mentally shakes himself and nods jerkily at her, swigging the last sip of his coffee and standing. He hears Dembe preparing to leave behind him.

"Now?" Red repeats. She nods, looking up at him, eyes twinkling. "You get dressed and enjoy your day, Elizabeth. I'll be contacting you soon to set up another meeting."

"And will that one be in my underwear as well?" She asks cheekily.

"Certainly," Red purrs, looking at her with lidded eyes, pausing in shrugging on his coat and donning his hat. "If that's how you usually plan heists."

She blushes prettily and smiles.

He tosses her a wink and sees himself out.

He can't wait to get started.