"We act in our own self-interest. Of course we do. Name me a person or a nation who does not. The trick is figuring out where your interests are." Anthony Doerr; All The Light We Cannot See
[ The worst thing about working with Bela Talbot, other than - uh - everything, was that it took him away from doing sensible things like being as far away from her as possible. It wasn't just that she was a royal pain in Winchester backside, which of course she was, or that Dean had to be on point literally the whole time they were together, just to keep her from fucking him over in some new and exciting way, but... Well, quite honestly, he found her hot, and it didn't help matters even remotely.
Either way being in this kind of hobnobbing situation again, with Bela on his arm in a little black dress, just made things all kinds of difficult. She'd been so happy with his performance the first time - getting screwed over - that here they were doing it all over again.
This time he was going to handcuff her to himself the second they were alone, and pat her down before he let her out of his sight. No stolen scratchcards, no ship-in-the-bottle replacements. She was not screwing him this time.
Unless she wanted to........ nope. ]
Don't think you're going to pass me off to any handsy grandmas this time. I will shoot you. Look in my eyes and tell me I won't.
( Honestly, Dean. Unclench. Is it really so bad to have her company for an evening? How else would you sneak your way into this event, anyway? They're not about to buy the usual, flimsy smokescreens that offer chances to speak to families of victims - a heist like this requires real connections.
And suits that are actually fitted. You're welcome.
The phrase cat who got the cream? That's probably been invented precisely to describe that satisfied look of amusement flitting across Bela's face right now, as she digs her fingers just a bit too hard into Dean's arm, hissing; )
Smile, darling. Someone might think you're mad at me.
( Of course, it's easy to say that when your track record of this little game - okay, of pulling cons - has largely tipped in your favour. (And the scratchcards were an overall loss, really. $46,000 vs 1.5 million? Hardly adequate compensation for the client she had to placate and dodge in the aftermath of that little rabbit's foot misadventure.) )
And don't worry. Both Edna and Gert have found gentlemen that are more... amicable to their advances.
( It's a shame, really. Sam would have made a great sugar baby for Gert, and Edna was awfully affectionate with her toyboys. )
[ He's tough, thank God, because otherwise the nails digging into his arm would really put him out. But there's nothing wrong with a bruise or two. He pastes on a smile, which he figures is just about doable in a "my wife dragged me along to this and I'd rather be playing golf or home playing Follow the Van with our housemaid". It's a little too put on, but around here, he's noticed, most of the smiles are.
That's the thing with these kinds of people. His dad had drummed it in nice and early. If you wanted to find snakes, try a snake-pit. This was a snake pit. Everyone had an agenda, nobody said what they meant, and their bite could be a hell of a lot nastier than it looked at first. Best to stay clear entirely.
Dean gave Gert and her dancing partner a smile as they swung past them, and looked across his arm at Bela again. ]
This party sucks, for the record. For one thing, whoever replaced the bite-sized cheeseburgers with celery needs their head examined.
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Either way being in this kind of hobnobbing situation again, with Bela on his arm in a little black dress, just made things all kinds of difficult. She'd been so happy with his performance the first time - getting screwed over - that here they were doing it all over again.
This time he was going to handcuff her to himself the second they were alone, and pat her down before he let her out of his sight. No stolen scratchcards, no ship-in-the-bottle replacements. She was not screwing him this time.
Unless she wanted to........nope. ]Don't think you're going to pass me off to any handsy grandmas this time. I will shoot you. Look in my eyes and tell me I won't.
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And suits that are actually fitted. You're welcome.
The phrase cat who got the cream? That's probably been invented precisely to describe that satisfied look of amusement flitting across Bela's face right now, as she digs her fingers just a bit too hard into Dean's arm, hissing; )
Smile, darling. Someone might think you're mad at me.
( Of course, it's easy to say that when your track record of this little game - okay, of pulling cons - has largely tipped in your favour. (And the scratchcards were an overall loss, really. $46,000 vs 1.5 million? Hardly adequate compensation for the client she had to placate and dodge in the aftermath of that little rabbit's foot misadventure.) )
And don't worry. Both Edna and Gert have found gentlemen that are more... amicable to their advances.
( It's a shame, really. Sam would have made a great sugar baby for Gert, and Edna was awfully affectionate with her toyboys. )
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But there's nothing wrong with a bruise or two. He pastes on a smile, which he figures is just about doable in a "my wife dragged me along to this and I'd rather be playing golf or home playing Follow the Van with our housemaid". It's a little too put on, but around here, he's noticed, most of the smiles are.That's the thing with these kinds of people. His dad had drummed it in nice and early. If you wanted to find snakes, try a snake-pit. This was a snake pit. Everyone had an agenda, nobody said what they meant, and their bite could be a hell of a lot nastier than it looked at first. Best to stay clear entirely.
Dean gave Gert and her dancing partner a smile as they swung past them, and looked across his arm at Bela again. ]
This party sucks, for the record. For one thing, whoever replaced the bite-sized cheeseburgers with celery needs their head examined.
Go through the plan for me again?