01-04-2014, 06:57 PM
Nicholas nodded to Dane's request. He didn't have many friends in Moscow but hell, why not? Silence stretched for a time before Dane chose to rekindle the conversation.
"You sound so eager to go along,"
he began with obvious sarcasm. "Why follow the Ascendancy when you do not care to?"
Nicholas almost envied the man as he tapped away the ash on his cigar and drew another cancerous breath. It was a habit Nicholas barely tolerated; it reminded him of his father.
Nicholas smirked. Getting dragged along by the CIA, who are actually Custodians, who are actually CIA. And magic.
Incidentally that last part was probably the most believable.
"I've been invited to report on the man who's certainly the greatest tyrant the world has ever known."
He glanced at the smoldering tip of the cigar. "I have to make a living somehow, don't I? Telling the truth isn't the worst job I've had."
It was better than the alternative. He could always slink back to Aberdeen and live out his years in comfort. Nicholas wasn't in it for the money. The fact that he'd never taken a job he didn't want to do wasn't lost on him.
He'd long since had the same realization Carnegie tried to popularize. Probably more sincerely, too. "I've been damn lucky."
He looked around at the empty people drinking away their sorrows in the room. All the money in the world and still miserable. "Judging by the room we're in, you have too. Wouldn't you rather be the man who made the world a better place than the one who sat in comfort watched it burn?"
History was usually kinder to the former. He smiled wryly. "Then again, you're one of Brandon's loyal subjects and I'm just an up-jumped journalist."
"You sound so eager to go along,"
he began with obvious sarcasm. "Why follow the Ascendancy when you do not care to?"
Nicholas almost envied the man as he tapped away the ash on his cigar and drew another cancerous breath. It was a habit Nicholas barely tolerated; it reminded him of his father.
Nicholas smirked. Getting dragged along by the CIA, who are actually Custodians, who are actually CIA. And magic.
Incidentally that last part was probably the most believable.
"I've been invited to report on the man who's certainly the greatest tyrant the world has ever known."
He glanced at the smoldering tip of the cigar. "I have to make a living somehow, don't I? Telling the truth isn't the worst job I've had."
It was better than the alternative. He could always slink back to Aberdeen and live out his years in comfort. Nicholas wasn't in it for the money. The fact that he'd never taken a job he didn't want to do wasn't lost on him.
He'd long since had the same realization Carnegie tried to popularize. Probably more sincerely, too. "I've been damn lucky."
He looked around at the empty people drinking away their sorrows in the room. All the money in the world and still miserable. "Judging by the room we're in, you have too. Wouldn't you rather be the man who made the world a better place than the one who sat in comfort watched it burn?"
History was usually kinder to the former. He smiled wryly. "Then again, you're one of Brandon's loyal subjects and I'm just an up-jumped journalist."