[ Michael spares a sideways glance at Lorca before turning her attention back to the crystal glass in her hand. A measured application of torque causes the liquid inside to slosh around a centered axis, forming a narrow funnel shape. Normally, she can find comfort in the laws of physics as inter-universal constant. Tonight, she thinks of Alice spiraling down that rabbit hole, falling with such impossible, disorienting force that she lands to find the world turned on its head.
That quick glance is enough to catch the satisfaction on Lorca's face. She saw it once before, when she offered herself in exchange for her crew's safety. It was easier to stomach when she had one final card up her sleeve; now, she has nothing.
At least he hasn't said anything as contrived as "welcome home."
(Yet.) ]
After further consideration, I've come to see the logic in your argument.
[ Lorca's hand wraps around his glass, anchored. He drinks in the sight of her reflected in the mirror behind the bar before alleviating her of his diluted attention. He casts lazily about the other patrons as she muses over her surrender. What terrible terms she must be anticipating. He does love to surprise her. ]
Well, I learned from the best. [ Logic's how she always managed to get her way with him, threatening to strip bare his fixation on her with acute, dispassionate calculation. ]
[ Michael is not blind to the parallels. Here she is, once again staring down the barrel of jail time, with Lorca positioned to offer her an out. It would be a remarkable turn of fate if it wasn't happening to her.
He isn't wrong that she wielded logic to her advantage back then; it was the only tool left in her arsenal. This is not quite the same and she responds with an exasperated roll of her eyes. ]
[ Mercy? He hasn't imprisoned Philippa, either in a contract or his basement. Cooperation? He plays nice with the Enterprise crew — very nice with a couple of them. Honesty? He hasn't spoken a lie in Michael's tenure. If she weren't so intent on avoiding him, she might give him the credit he's due. The contract will ameliorate the issue. His gaze flashes steel as he resists rising to her bait. ]
How about compromise? That's in the spirit of unity, isn't it? [ Dryly rhetorical. He gave his word, he'd refrain from further Federation versus Empire debate. He can still pay homage to his opinion. ]
[ Unity is not top of mind for Michael but she can't in good faith argue against its importance. Her time here and the preceding year separated from her crew have driven home the advantage of a united front. Divisions only benefit their common enemy.
She sighs and sets her glass, full but for a single sip, on the bar. Her posture is rigid, her body brims with tension. Long-simmering frustration begs for an outlet and Lorca is a convenient target. But this is no way to begin negotiation.
When she turns to look at him, she looks genuinely apologetic. ]
[ Lorca huffs softly, taking that backhanded compliment for what it is. ]
I didn't get to where I am just by slitting throats. [ If she's spent any time with the Emperor, she might have an idea of the fine line between deference and audacity one has to walk to keep her favour. Not for herself, of course — Michael is privy to a substantial amount of leeway with both her and Lorca. Everyone else must prove themselves indisposable, and be prepared to keep proving it.
He cleanses his palette with a sip of bourbon. They can resume their verbal spar later. She's on a timer. Lorca awaits her opening offer. He won't put words in her mouth, tell her he has no intention of forcing her dependence on him, financial or sexual. Let her make the demand of him herself; it may convince her she's gained something. ]
[ Despite having won the Emperor's favor, Michael has only a vague impression of what has historically been required of others to keep it. The relationship she has with Georgiou blossomed almost entirely on accident, like a neglected houseplant in some dim, forgotten corner, surviving against every odd and expectation. Yet she can begin to imagine what it must have taken for Lorca to ascend as the Emperor's right hand — and to stay there for as long as he did. No, he didn't get by on violence alone, and she takes that as a reminder to be just as cautious of his other talents.
Lorca may not hold all of the cards but he has the best hand and they both know it. The opening bid is hers to make and she came prepared. She takes out her device to pull up a drafted contract and sends him a copy. As with any first offer, the document is egregiously skewed in her favor, affording her as much independence as is legally feasible while minimizing their obligation to one another. Importantly, she gets to spend her money freely, but she has taken care, wherever possible, to eliminate financial burden for him. The matter of quota similarly severs mutual responsibility — they are both welcome to satisfy requirements with partners of their own choosing, implicitly not each other. She watches closely as he looks it over. ]
[ His device buzzes, stirring a small chuckle out of him. Of course. Cold, hard text is efficient. Very convenient for her. Lorca humors her, withdrawing his device and pulling up the file. Skimming it would be a mistake. He reads intently, quietly charmed by how predictably and shamelessly Michael it all is. She's too prudent to have included explicit prohibition against him as a quota partner, presumably for the optics. It must have entered her mind.
What Lorca wouldn't do to taste just one drop from that tightly-sealed well of spite.
Reaching the end, he nods contemplatively, noncommittally. He sets his device down though doesn't yet return his attention to her in full. ]
Succinct, for a legal document. Thank you for that. [ Nonetheless, it's dry enough to merit taking another drink. He offers her a cheers as he does so. ]
[ Bringing her glass up in a cheers to mirror his is a compulsory response, rooted in social etiquette more than anything — it is, customarily, rude not to reciprocate. That she is not thrilled to be in her position is no secret, but wearing that displeasure on her sleeve would be a gift to him. He is already too skilled at reading her.
A half dozen clever responses die on her tongue, discarded in favor of a direct approach. She could pretend not to be burdened with anticipation but she would only be fooling herself. ]
[ Now, that — that rings true. The dread of the undertaking. Solemnity in preparation for the chaos ahead, in acknowledgment of the violence all around. The weight of her eyes on him as she mans her station. Her hand on his back to draw his focus from a panel at his fingertips.
It takes a war to bring them together.
His glass thuds softly on the bartop, his cynical smile cast down to it. What is he thinking? He's tempted to throw it all away. Fold on a winning hand, like that will keep the game from ending. But she wouldn't trust his generosity, and he's not a fool for love. ]
I'm thinking this leaves you no more beholden to me than a commander to her captain. [ He regards her with the blunt bittersweetness of necessary cruelty. ] Without the loyalty.
[ Learned Vulcan stoicism masks her surprise. She wouldn't expect sugarcoating, but him coming right out and stating his intent to have her beholden to him is more revealing than she bargained for. It's nothing that she didn't know, but interesting that he would admit it at this stage.
Environmental noise drowns out the clink of her fingernails tapping against her glass as she considers her response. ]
Giving me an alternative to prison inspired loyalty once. [ She stops short of suggesting that it would be the same now, letting the implication hang between them. It could be, in the sense that anything is technically possible. But things are different now. She is different now. ]
cw coercion. the opposite of coercion? the coercion snake eats its own tail
[ They both know that. Lorca doubts she's being ignorantly disingenuous. The talent for using people that she denies is typically in getting people to use her. To whom does she owe it, this deft hand she has with duplicity?
That last spark of appreciation flickers out. He holds her eye without heat, so that she understands his stipulation, as she put it, is not a matter of his own satisfaction. Shrewdness does often overlap but not in this case. Not with her. ]
And I will give you one again. But until then, any Realignment you're assigned by citation will be carried out with me.
[ To the extent that Michael owes her sense of purpose to external forces, the credit is due to Starfleet, and to the handful of captains she served who didn't betray their entire crew. Even in its absence, her commitment to the Federation kept her motivated for the past year and counting. When he promises to give her purpose, she sees a prime example of his inability to respect what he doesn't understand.
She recognizes the intent behind his dispassionate eye contact. She just doesn't buy it, and she shakes her head back at him even as amusement tugs at her mouth. It's hard not to laugh in the face of such audacity. ]
Propose whatever terms you like, but don't pretend they're for my benefit.
[ He indulges the grin she won't, sharp as a dagger. ]
Oh, I'm not. This is about protecting me from you. [ An incentive for her to keep the big picture in mind. It's not foolproof but he can't sleep at night without taking some measure against her idealism. Michael does right by both of them, not pushing back on it. She would find his alternatives even more repugnant. ]
[ An unwillingness to see others punished for her behavior is what brought her to the table with Lorca. She wouldn't take any pleasure in bringing negative attention to his doorstep, but she could stomach it more than the idea of someone like Una caught in her fallout. As dreadful as she finds the prospect of Realignment with Lorca, she has never hesitated to bargain at her own expense.
She raises the glass to her lips for a drink, sets it down, and turns back to face him with a sharp nod. ]
[ He shares a drink with her, sealing the agreement. He looks forward to finding out just how stunningly sexless she can make it sound in writing. Wetting his lips as he sets his glass down, he nods. That's it for his own demands.
As for the city's... ]
I'm not going to clock you in and out, for the days you're required to stay at the house each month. But I expect you to be there often enough to keep up appearances, and make your room look lived in.
Are you expecting SIN to conduct a room-to-room inspection? [ She asks with a raised eyebrow, purely curious. Perhaps that is standard — she wouldn't know. Despite her best efforts to study up, she learns something new about Duplicity every day. ]
You never know with them. [ he says frankly, with an undercurrent of not-quite admiration. Game begrudgingly respect game. Duplicity lets their victims learn the strictures and loopholes of the system to the point of complacency, then rips the rug out from underneath them just to prove that they can. ]
[ Michael's head tilts slightly to one side as she hums an agreement. He certainly seems to have made some peace with the inevitability of her landing him on SIN's radar, preparing ahead rather than trying to dissuade her. That tells her something about where signing her sits on his hierarchy of goals, and she doesn't like it, but she can use it. ]
Fair enough. I'll decorate. [ She means that sincerely, having recently abandoned Vulcan minimalism in favor of sentimental clutter. Anything she values too much to store under Lorca's roof is typically kept on her person anyway. ]
[ He nods in acknowledgment. Lorca won't pry unless given reason to. Validating simple, sentimental curiosity isn't worth slaking the anticipation of finding out in due course. ]
[ Her eyes fall to the bracelet around his wrist, its color scheme reminiscent of the uniform he wore as Discovery's captain. Presumably a relic from before he revealed himself as Terran. ]
I would prefer something with less bulk. [ She offers: a statement, not a request. The default pleather collar is both too thick and too heavy, its presence is a constant friction. It would be nice not to feel it quite so prominently, but nice and Lorca are rarely found in the same sentence. ]
[ He's thought about swapping the navy blue band for black, in line with his Imperial uniform, but in Duplicity, black is plain. Unremarkable.
Low status. ]
Good. [ He doesn't like how much they cover, either.
Lorca taps his device, bringing the screen to life, and pulls a folder of options from when he first signed Christine. Thin collars, though sometimes composed of multiple strands, like his bracelet. Not a single one is without a touch of gold. He slides the device over to Michael. ] Color is up to you.
[ As she takes another sip of her drink, Michael's eyes peer over the rim of the glass to scan the examples on Lorca's device. Her fingers flick across the glowing screen, panning disinterestedly between images until something catches her eye. ]
This one. [ She slides the phone back over to him. On the screen is a collar much like his bracelet, braided cord with a centered gold accent, in a pale burgundy that reminds her of the burnt sienna tones of the Cliffs of Surak. There is no looking past what the collar symbolizes but that association can be hers and hers alone. ]
[ While she browses, he steals a glance at the scar on her hand. As long as she has that, he could care less what her collar looks like. Any other Sub in this city, he wouldn't even offer the amount of choice she currently has. Christine didn't peruse those images; he made the selection for her. Should he sign someone else, they'll get what she has, in a color that suits them.
And if Michael ever rids herself of his scar, they'll revisit this conversation. Or that's the plan until she makes her choice. He smiles genuinely. ]
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cryptofascist) wrote2023-08-07 04:42 pm
no subject
That quick glance is enough to catch the satisfaction on Lorca's face. She saw it once before, when she offered herself in exchange for her crew's safety. It was easier to stomach when she had one final card up her sleeve; now, she has nothing.
At least he hasn't said anything as contrived as "welcome home."
(Yet.) ]
After further consideration, I've come to see the logic in your argument.
no subject
Well, I learned from the best. [ Logic's how she always managed to get her way with him, threatening to strip bare his fixation on her with acute, dispassionate calculation. ]
no subject
He isn't wrong that she wielded logic to her advantage back then; it was the only tool left in her arsenal. This is not quite the same and she responds with an exasperated roll of her eyes. ]
You could stand to learn a few more things.
no subject
How about compromise? That's in the spirit of unity, isn't it? [ Dryly rhetorical. He gave his word, he'd refrain from further Federation versus Empire debate. He can still pay homage to his opinion. ]
no subject
She sighs and sets her glass, full but for a single sip, on the bar. Her posture is rigid, her body brims with tension. Long-simmering frustration begs for an outlet and Lorca is a convenient target. But this is no way to begin negotiation.
When she turns to look at him, she looks genuinely apologetic. ]
Diplomatic is a new look on you.
no subject
I didn't get to where I am just by slitting throats. [ If she's spent any time with the Emperor, she might have an idea of the fine line between deference and audacity one has to walk to keep her favour. Not for herself, of course — Michael is privy to a substantial amount of leeway with both her and Lorca. Everyone else must prove themselves indisposable, and be prepared to keep proving it.
He cleanses his palette with a sip of bourbon. They can resume their verbal spar later. She's on a timer. Lorca awaits her opening offer. He won't put words in her mouth, tell her he has no intention of forcing her dependence on him, financial or sexual. Let her make the demand of him herself; it may convince her she's gained something. ]
no subject
Lorca may not hold all of the cards but he has the best hand and they both know it. The opening bid is hers to make and she came prepared. She takes out her device to pull up a drafted contract and sends him a copy. As with any first offer, the document is egregiously skewed in her favor, affording her as much independence as is legally feasible while minimizing their obligation to one another. Importantly, she gets to spend her money freely, but she has taken care, wherever possible, to eliminate financial burden for him. The matter of quota similarly severs mutual responsibility — they are both welcome to satisfy requirements with partners of their own choosing, implicitly not each other. She watches closely as he looks it over. ]
no subject
What Lorca wouldn't do to taste just one drop from that tightly-sealed well of spite.
Reaching the end, he nods contemplatively, noncommittally. He sets his device down though doesn't yet return his attention to her in full. ]
Succinct, for a legal document. Thank you for that. [ Nonetheless, it's dry enough to merit taking another drink. He offers her a cheers as he does so. ]
no subject
A half dozen clever responses die on her tongue, discarded in favor of a direct approach. She could pretend not to be burdened with anticipation but she would only be fooling herself. ]
What are you thinking?
no subject
It takes a war to bring them together.
His glass thuds softly on the bartop, his cynical smile cast down to it. What is he thinking? He's tempted to throw it all away. Fold on a winning hand, like that will keep the game from ending. But she wouldn't trust his generosity, and he's not a fool for love. ]
I'm thinking this leaves you no more beholden to me than a commander to her captain. [ He regards her with the blunt bittersweetness of necessary cruelty. ] Without the loyalty.
no subject
Environmental noise drowns out the clink of her fingernails tapping against her glass as she considers her response. ]
Giving me an alternative to prison inspired loyalty once. [ She stops short of suggesting that it would be the same now, letting the implication hang between them. It could be, in the sense that anything is technically possible. But things are different now. She is different now. ]
cw coercion. the opposite of coercion? the coercion snake eats its own tail
[ They both know that. Lorca doubts she's being ignorantly disingenuous. The talent for using people that she denies is typically in getting people to use her. To whom does she owe it, this deft hand she has with duplicity?
That last spark of appreciation flickers out. He holds her eye without heat, so that she understands his stipulation, as she put it, is not a matter of his own satisfaction. Shrewdness does often overlap but not in this case. Not with her. ]
And I will give you one again. But until then, any Realignment you're assigned by citation will be carried out with me.
no subject
She recognizes the intent behind his dispassionate eye contact. She just doesn't buy it, and she shakes her head back at him even as amusement tugs at her mouth. It's hard not to laugh in the face of such audacity. ]
Propose whatever terms you like, but don't pretend they're for my benefit.
no subject
Oh, I'm not. This is about protecting me from you. [ An incentive for her to keep the big picture in mind. It's not foolproof but he can't sleep at night without taking some measure against her idealism. Michael does right by both of them, not pushing back on it. She would find his alternatives even more repugnant. ]
no subject
She raises the glass to her lips for a drink, sets it down, and turns back to face him with a sharp nod. ]
Is that it?
no subject
As for the city's... ]
I'm not going to clock you in and out, for the days you're required to stay at the house each month. But I expect you to be there often enough to keep up appearances, and make your room look lived in.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Fair enough. I'll decorate. [ She means that sincerely, having recently abandoned Vulcan minimalism in favor of sentimental clutter. Anything she values too much to store under Lorca's roof is typically kept on her person anyway. ]
no subject
You'll need a new collar.
no subject
I would prefer something with less bulk. [ She offers: a statement, not a request. The default pleather collar is both too thick and too heavy, its presence is a constant friction. It would be nice not to feel it quite so prominently, but nice and Lorca are rarely found in the same sentence. ]
no subject
Low status. ]
Good. [ He doesn't like how much they cover, either.
Lorca taps his device, bringing the screen to life, and pulls a folder of options from when he first signed Christine. Thin collars, though sometimes composed of multiple strands, like his bracelet. Not a single one is without a touch of gold. He slides the device over to Michael. ] Color is up to you.
no subject
This one. [ She slides the phone back over to him. On the screen is a collar much like his bracelet, braided cord with a centered gold accent, in a pale burgundy that reminds her of the burnt sienna tones of the Cliffs of Surak. There is no looking past what the collar symbolizes but that association can be hers and hers alone. ]
no subject
And if Michael ever rids herself of his scar, they'll revisit this conversation. Or that's the plan until she makes her choice. He smiles genuinely. ]
I'll have it for you when you come to the house.