Luck of a Lady.

I.

Cursing, the mumbles blotting into those conversations surrounding the pair, Laurence eyed his "partner" for the evening.
Kier made a kissy face in response.

~

A swig of rum or whatever was in the brown corked bottle lazily missed the crimson haired menace, eyebrows furrowing to stifle a belch of sorts. His attention, while gravely necessary, wandered off to the idea of a feast later on.
Whereas his colleague, Beveridge, sat fully attentive- back not remotely slouched, even scribbling down notes.
This was the fundamental difference between the two, friends or otherwise.
Opposites may attract, but only if to make up for each other's lacking traits.
However in this particular meeting, for particular people looking to overthrow the wretched Cardinal, intel needed to be gathered.
Words bellowed out from the leader as he whipped a chalkboard with his pointer stick, delicately circling outlandish words scribbled on haphazardly.
Words like "Gather", and "Infiltrate", and "We need a good pair of people to go in together to do so".
This small detail made the messy, raven haired boy glance up to the eyes of the man belting out orders, with slight concern.
Seeing as they were the only two who really stuck together, the plan here was obvious.
No phrase of confirmation was needed, as the ringmaster simply nodded back to Laurence's gaze.
With a long, obviously drawn out sigh, he sat back in his chair, turning his head to look at his wonderful escort for the evening.
Said escort was too busy trying to balance an apple on top of his pen, tongue poking out his lips.

Beveridge stood, the scraping of his chair against the panelled floor causing the room to snap round in glares, and threw Kier out his trance- dropping both his apple and pencil.
Upon seeing his friend leave, Kemp blinked round and grinned, quickly scurrying to follow.