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Scott
Scott likes these parties.
They’re not too fancy. They’re not too casual. They sit in the nice space where Scott gets to dress up but doesn’t really end up being boring about it. At least three people at each of these are having some sort of serious problem that Scott gets to overhear and potentially use later. No one is fully honest. It’s a great time for him.
He’s already heard about a possible cheating scandal being kept hush-hush by the time he notices that Scar is here.
Scar is here and Scar looks very intentionally disheveled: he’s wearing a nice vest but his shirt isn’t buttoned all the way and Scott really can’t tell if his hair falling out of his ponytail is on purpose or not. He’d bet it was, if pressed, just because it’s Scar, though.
This should be good. Scar’s tendency to come to events like this and not leave with the same number of clothes he came in with is amusing. At the very least, it looks like that’s the kind of night he’s aiming to have. Scott wonders if he can pick out Scar’s target before Scar gets there.
He spends almost an hour watching Scar move between groups. Usually he can get some indication of where Scar’s generally angling towards, but not tonight. Tonight, he looks over every once in a while to see where Scar is and he’s entirely in a different place.
And then one time he looks out on the garden the party’s hosted at and Scar just isn’t there.
Which is weird, because Scott’s at the edge of the actual party area, and Scar should be visible if he’s still here. Did Scott miss him splitting off? Did—
There’s a hand on his waist and a person at his side and Scott comes very, very close to elbowing them.
“Hello there, Scott!” Scar says right next to him. “Nice little spot you’ve found here for yourself!”
It’s just Scar. Okay. That’s fine.
…It’s Scar.
Scott is getting the sudden, terrible feeling that he didn’t miss anything.
“Hello, Scar,” Scott says, looking over. “Can I help you with something?”
Scar’s casual smile widens a touch. “Can I not just come say hello to a trusted business partner?” He keeps his voice low, eyes on the rest of the party.
Scott is definitely the target of the night. “You haven’t come to talk to me yourself since you were Second.” Scott matches Scar’s volume. It’s his turn to have a conversation he’d rather not have overheard, it seems.
“A man’s been busy! Keeping things running is a lot of work!”
“Uh-huh.” Scott turns fully to Scar. Scar’s hand doesn’t leave his waist, just glides along his back to settle on the opposite side. “What do you want?”
“How about a walk?” Scar’s hand finally leaves Scott’s waist, gesturing to the path further into the garden. “It’s dark, but I’m sure there’s still something we could see.”
It’s probably not smart to let Scar get him alone. That being said, Scar can be just as stubborn as Scott if he really wants to be and Scott really doesn’t want to have whatever this conversation is shaping up to be where other people can hear them.
“Fine,” Scott says. “Lead the way.”
Scar’s smile turns to a bright grin for just a moment. Scott gets the distinct sense that he’s losing at something.
But he follows Scar deeper into the garden, where there’s less lights and less people and less chance to be overheard.
They walk in silence for a while. Scott imagines that the garden must be very pretty during the daytime. As it stands, they’re relying on dim lights set by the walkway to not wander off into the darkness.
“So, what did you want?” Scott asks.
“It can’t just be this?”
“I’m not an idiot, Scar.”
Scar sighs dramatically. “Oh, okay, fine. You’re aware that Azalea Park was sold to Doc first, obviously.”
“I am,” Scott says carefully.
“I was wondering if you had anything on the guy who sold it to him.”
“And you didn’t just send Grian to investigate?”
“Grian’s got so much to do at the moment,” Scar says. “Which I’m sure you know at least a little of, since he visits you.”
Scott’s pretty sure Grian didn’t mention their visits to anyone else. He’d mentioned something about Pearl and a grudge once. Scar tends to know what happens with his people, though, so maybe this shouldn’t be a surprise.
“And you got bored,” Scott adds.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Scar says. “So?”
There’s a few steps that Scott has to make sure he doesn’t trip over in the dark. “You know the rules, Scar. I don’t give out information for free.”
“Who said I was asking for it for free?”
His voice dips. Scott gives him a flat look.
Because, okay. Scott knows he does this. Anyone who comes to these sorts of things regularly and has half a brain can figure out that Scar does this. It’s one thing to know and another to have it directed at him and he is determined not to let it work.
“How much cash do you have on you, then?” Scott asks. Scar tilts his head slightly.
“You don’t work like that,” Scar says. “You work in… mm, exchanges. Is that right?”
Scar is looking at him. Scott is uncomfortably aware of it.
“Information exchanges,” Scott clarifies, slowing to a stop. “I deal in information exchanges.”
“No interest in trying something new?”
Scar sets a hand gently on Scott’s shoulder. It slips forward until it’s just barely under the lapel of Scott’s jacket, arm encircling him. Scott can feel the fabric of Scar’s shirt pressing lightly against his exposed back. He feels decidedly enclosed.
“I’d even be willing to make it a bit of a gamble,” Scar says by Scott’s ear, voice low again for entirely different reasons. “You don’t have to give me anything if you don’t think I made it worth your while.”
How far is Scar willing to take this? Scott knew something happened when he vanished at parties, but he’d sort of thought Scar stopped at some point. Turned it around into a threat, even. But this sounds a lot like—
He’d have to see Grian afterwards. It’s a Saturday, and they meet on Tuesdays, and Scott would have to look him in the eyes and know what had happened. Could he do that?
On the other hand, he’d also told Grian he would. And he hadn’t been lying at the time, but it hadn’t been a real possibility at the time and it was mostly to see Grian get embarrassed about it anyway. Now it’s a very, very real possibility. Scott’s not entirely sure how much of a problem that is.
Other than having to look Grian in the eyes about it later.
“Does that sound like a fair exchange to you?” Scar asks, dragging Scott back into the moment where it’s cool outside but his face is too hot and he’s standing here with Scar’s arm settled comfortably around him and his back feeling vaguely warm from proximity and he does have to say something.
“Sure,” Scott says, and then his brain catches up to him.
He’s agreeing with this? There’s no possible way he’s going to be able to face Grian after this, not unless he really owns up to it. Maybe Grian will just be too embarrassed to notice if Scott is or not.
…Sure. Whatever. This is happening, he guesses.
“Excellent,” Scar says. He pulls his arms back and takes a gentle hold of Scott’s. “Let’s find somewhere at least mildly private, shall we?”
“Yeah,” Scott says, feeling a little bit dazed. What just happened?
Scar leads him off.
And he ends up getting his information at the end of the night.
Grian
Something’s off when Grian walks into Scott’s store that morning.
He’s been coming over often enough now to sort of have an idea how things usually are. The moment Scott sees him, though, his gaze shifts off to the side.
“Morning, Grian,” Scott says.
“Morning,” Grian says. “Did something happen in the last week?”
“Something’s always happening,” Scott says, standing and moving toward the door to the back. “Do you have a tea preference today?”
Grian squints at Scott’s back. He’s avoiding something, which is… weird.
“Not really.” He follows Scott into the back and up the stairs. “You said you were looking forward to that party of yours, did you hear something there…?”
“Sure,” Scott says. “Again, things are always happening. You wouldn’t believe the rumors you hear at things like that.”
“Care to share any?”
Scott shrugs and unlocks the door to his actual apartment. “Cheating remains rampant in political circles.”
He doesn’t say anything else.
Which is kind of weird, actually, because Scott may have his expectations around the exchange of information but he still likes gossiping.
“…I think our episode today is another murder,” Scott switches to. “So.”
“No, wait, that can’t be the only thing,” Grian says. “The last time you went to one of these we didn’t get to the episode for an hour.”
“It wasn’t really that interesting,” Scott says. “I, uh. I think we don’t need to talk about it.”
Grian sits in his usual seat and watches Scott pivot towards the kitchen. He could just… wait and see, but now he’s curious.
He stands back up and follows Scott into the kitchen.
“No, did something happen?” Grian asks. “Did you do something?”
Scott mutters something too quietly for Grian to hear. Grian stares at his back.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“Someone,” Scott mumbles.
Someone.
Grian wracks his brain trying to think who could have possibly been there to get this response. Then, it occurs to him, horribly and suddenly.
Scar.
“No,” Grian says. “No, you didn’t.”
Scott says nothing as he measures out tea.
“Scott. Please tell me you didn’t.”
“Okay. I won’t.”
This is maybe the worst answer. Grian turns and walks back into the living room.
“Why would you do that!” Grian yells.
“He’s very distracting!” Scott yells back.
“I have to go back to work, Scott!”
“Then you shouldn’t have asked!”
Grian thinks he might hate it here.