(1937-09-21) An Olive Branch
Details for An Olive Branch
Summary: Sweeney shows up at Gideon's favourite pub to make an effort at a truce.
Date: September 21, 1937
Location: Dog and Bone, London
Related: The Hammer Swings

The Dog & Bone, a classic public house that has sat nestled in among the shops and residences of the Borough for countless years. Stepping inside is a bit like a portal to the past, as one is immediately surrounded by stone and mortar walls, thick wooden beams and rafters, and the hazy scent of pipe smoke and cinders from the large, wood-burning fireplace that warms the building. A handful of tables leave little room for walking in the cramped space, though most of the patrons tend to crowd around the wrap-around bar on the wall opposite the hearth. The only open space is a collection of mismatched chairs and sofas, close enough to be warmed by the fire, and turned to face one corner of the room, where a tiny stage rises six inches above the floor.

It's another amateur performer on the stage for now, though Adamantus Gideon is present at the bar, nursing a pint of the house brew. The locals seem to be giving him some space (which, at the crowded bar, means four or five inches), seeing that he's got something weighing heavily on his mind.

Nia's dressed up to look dressed down again. Her curls are pulled back away from her face, and she's in the room proper now, her purse clutched before her, a jacket lying lightly across her shoulders. There are a few men at the bar that drift back, twisting about and catch the presence of one of the only dames in the place. The whispers begin, 'Ain't that red's dame?' and 'Owe me. Two nights in a row..'. It's not hard to find the man she's looking for, though she does cast a glance at the stage first, and approaching, she reaches out to place a hand upon his shoulder to announce her arrival. "Ad-" Beat. "Gideon."

"Inspector Gideon. Miss O'Shea." The deep, soft Irish voice seems to resonate through the area. Brendan Sweeney is standing behind the two of them at the bar. If they turn around, they'll notice his hands clasped in front of him and no weapons visible.

Whatever tension started to fade at the sound of Niamh's voice returns tenfold at Sweeney's. Gideon is immediately out of his seat and moving to push Niamh behind him, giving Sweeney a snarl. "You've got guts coming in here. I'll give you that much. Now give me one good reason I should nae show them to you."

The sound of the Irish lilt catches Nia unawares, and she turns around, thinking, perhaps, it's someone's voice she'd forgotten, but at the sight, she freezes. Gideon's attempt at moving her around and behind him so her back is to the bar works quite well as a result; easily pliable. Eyes widen in recognition, the memory of what she's been told about the man before her plays before her now, and she (rightly or wrongly) says nothing.

Sweeney holds his hands out to the side in a gesture of peace and says, "Because I'm not here to fight you, Inspector. I've come to clear the air." He stands up against the bar and says, "Here, let me buy you a drink." He orders up a double of whiskey for himself and another pint for the inspector. He keeps his eyes forward, not looking at Gideon until his whiskey gets to him.

Gideon shakes his head at the barman, who gets Sweeney's order, but doesn't bother with the pint. The locals, rather familiar with Gideon, can plainly see his agitation, and an area of empty space begins to grow around the two wizards and the Squib. "That's twice you've come around where you're not welcome. I'd hoped that I'd made a strong enough impression on our last encounter that you'd learn your place."

Now, Niamh puts her hand on Gideon's shoulder, her voice a whispered Irish lilt, the words softly spoken. "I know.." and what she knows, she's not saying aloud, but does continue, ".. hear him out?" She steps from being directly behind Gideon to behind and to the side so she can be seen a little better. "I don't think he could say what he wished in his club and have us listen." Hazel eyes flicker from one man to the other and back, "Once he's said his piece?" Then he can go?

Sweeney looks over at Gideon over the rim of his glass and takes a sip, setting it down. He clears his throat a bit and says, "Ah, yes. My place as the bad guy in this little scene that you've conjured up. I've come to make it clear to you that I wasn't following anybody. Wolfgang likes to play the mobster and bark ridiculous orders around. Gets that from his father. If you know anything about me, and I'm sure you do, you know that it's not like me at all to follow ridiculous orders. Such as tailing your friend here." He gestures to the young woman.

Normally, Niamh's influence quiets Gideon, pulling him back from the precipe he lives on. But today it is only a half-step back from the edge. "I know enough about you to know which orders you do follow. Don't come in here playing the martyr. You're scum, Sweeney. You'll always be scum. All you need to take away from this conversation is the same you and your boss should have taken from the last."

At least the muscles under her hand doesn't feel like they're going to spring like a wound coil? Niamh falls silent now, her attention on the slightly older man. She's not very good at covering her expressions, and like someone who may still be a little naive, looks a little relieved in the statement that he's not tailing her. (Her world is her potions!)

Sweeney grips the glass tightly in his hand, but suffers the insults, "Look, Inspector, I'm trying to look out for the boy. He's going down a very dark path and if he continues down that path, he'll end up like me." He peers at Gideon, saying, "Don't pretend like you're some hero, either, Gideon. I could press charges and have your badge stripped away and keep it as a souveneir." He pauses, a fire burning in his eyes, "I keep my business on the level now and I don't appreciate being attacked." The glass he's holding looks like it's not far from shattering in his grip, but he soon settles back down, taking another sip.

Some murmurs are going up among the crowd, hearing Sweeney repeatedly call Gideon "Inspector" has the rumours flying.

"Aye, I'm sure the M.L.E. is terribly concerned about the little hurts of a man such as you," A killer, Gideon doesn't say aloud. No need to alarm the pub patrons. "We both know you're no angel, so dinnae bother trying to play the part. You want to play nanny to the little wolf? Go right ahead. That's nae my business. But if either of you step out of line again, I swear you'll find out that stunning you does nae even begin to describe what will happen. Do we have an understanding?"

Nia can hear the whisperings now, and she looks back at the regulars of the pub before returning her attention to the men. There isn't much she's going to add here; she's given her opinion on the matter. Now, it's a matter for the men to work out, peacefully if at all possible. (She was never really good in Offensive Magic class!)

Sweeney nods to Gideon and says, "That's all I ask. If Wolfgang steps out of line, he'll have me to deal with." He downs the rest of his glass quickly and stands up from his leaning position, offering a hand to the man to seal the gentlemen's agreement. He levels those greying blue eyes of his on the man, waiting for his response.

Gideon may not like this man…indeed, he may hate him. But even in the world of danger and treachery they inhabit, there are moments when honour is at stake on both sides. He takes a moment to size Sweeney up, looking for a sign of some trick. But finally, he puts his hand into the other man's for a firm, if stiff, handshake. "You realize this changes nothing about what came before. You have many things to answer for."

Nia's been holding her breath, apparently, because now she lets it go slowly and leans back behind her on the bar, her free hand coming out to steady herself. She allows the beginnings of a smile to venture forth; here's to hoping? Seems she's been doing that a lot lately.

Sweeney offers a firm handshake, but doesn't try to hurt him. He rests a hand on the man's arm and leans in to whisper to him, "I didn't do it. Come by my home if you want to know more." He normally speaks with a weight of everything he's seen and done throughout the years, but something about this seems quite honest and well-intentioned. Sweeney just leans back and releases the Inspector's hand afterwards, saying to the both of them, "Have a wonderful evening."

Gideon is caught off-guard by that, momentarily stunned…stupefied, even. He watches Sweeney go without a word, just that hard, steely gaze, and a rising tide of conflicting emotions.

Pressing her lips tightly into a fine line, Nia watches the lean in, watching the man's hands. Potions can be used by squibs and muggles both, and some nasty ones aren't only 'drink me', as it were. The whisper is just that.. a whisper. All she can see is how Gideon reactions to whatever it is that is said. The well-wishes, then.. couldn't have been what caught Gideon so off guard. "Good night, Mr. Sweeney," is given before she steps a little forward once again to stand beside Gideon, and she turns to face him. "Are ye alright?" Maybe it was a something on the man's hand that was passed via touch..?

Only after Sweeney has departed the building does Gideon turn to face Niamh. "It's…nothing." Nothing to worry you about until I know more. He takes a steadying breath, placing his hands on her arms. "I still want you to stay with Eddie for now. I think he'll abide by this…but I cannae be absolutely certain."

"I don't think she'd let me leave, even if I asked," Nia jokes, though it falls a little flat to her ears. In order to raise it, she does give him a smile, and it's a gentle echo that holds within her eyes. She glances down at his hands on her arms, but it's only a flicker, before she raises her attention back up. "He sounded.. tired, Gideon. Like it was a real truce. An'.. he was glad in it that ye listened."

Gideon shakes his head, his hands dropping as he slumps into his stool. "Even if that's true, the fact is that he is nae the one calling the shots. The Montagues do…though now I'm a bit uncertain as to where things stand with Wolfgang. He sent me a warning about Sweeney last night by owl. Something happened after I left the club. I need to find out what." He sighs wearily, "I also need to see Crane."

"Him comin' here and shakin' yer hand.. that's got to count for something, aye? An', an' what if he's had some change of heart. Like he said, Wolfgang Montague goin' the same way. Could be he wants better for him, as if he was his own flesh and blood?" Here, Niamh knows she's reaching, but if you throw a great deal against the wall, something has to stick to it? "I don't know, Gideon.." And she takes the step towards him, not playing any attention to the other patrons of the bar that have now gotten back to their own drinks, though they're keeping a weathered eye on the Scotsman. She reaches out to place her hand on his arm now, her brows rising. "He's given ye the night off." Here, she sounds a pleading note, "Sit with me, have a drink, an' if need be," and here, she lowers her voice so as not to cause a scandal, "I'll bring ye home to Eddie's. She's got lot'sa rooms."

Gideon reaches into the inner pocket of his coat, producing a flipbook, into which he starts writing down names — clearly the names of the patrons he keeps glancing up to. "What a mess," he mumbles, the list growing inordinately long. When her hand touches his arm, he pauses, looking up at her. Oh, those brown eyes. How he could just dive into them and forget his troubles. Reluctantly, he puts the book away and nods. "A drink…then I'll take you to Eddie's myself."

A smile comes to quirk at the edges of her mouth; she'll take the victory, and those brown eyes see only him. "A drink, then.." Looking up at the bartender, she puts her request in, "Pint bitter, please.. ta." Once done, she's free to look into those blue eyes and feel as if she can lose herself. "I would be glad for the company.. to Eddie's." Though, truth be told, she'd like the company once there, too! Now, it's her turn to lean in to whisper in his ear, the curls of brown hair running against his flesh in places. Despite her working conditions, she smells.. light and flowery. "Does this mean ye aren't takin' requests or tips?"

Gideon clenches his teeth in an apologetic expression. "Sorry, lassie. Not tonight." He gets down from his stool to escort her to the couch where they sat the week before. It takes some time, but as they speak, he slowly emerges from the doldrums plaguing him, just enjoying the company of a beautiful woman.

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