Low Man


hagan_icon.gif miles_icon.gif

Scene Title Low Man
Synopsis A mention of Isabelle and Miles tries to have a chat with Hagan about Shedda Dinu. It isn't what you'd call a friendly chat.
Date January 3, 2009

Old Lucy's

Another body, another day… In the middle of the day, Old Lucy's isn't necessarily packed, but there are a few regular patrons. Then there is Miles. Whose wasn't a regular until he met Isabelle, now he's decided that he's not going to give up that easily in his pursuit of the woman.
Currently, Miles is still using poor old Sammy, he has been for a few weeks now. He sits at the bar, having a beer, minding his own business, waiting for Isabelle to show up again, occasionally scoping out new possible prospects for his host body.

If Miles is looking for a ladykiller, the man who walks in the door…well, doesn't fit the bill one bit. Hagan coughs a little once he's past the threshold. He's got a cigarette pinched between his lips and one of those six foot long striped scarves coiled around his neck like a snake. He's apparently a known quantity, because the bartender gives him a smile and the pint is on the bar before he even has to ask. He slumps down into a barstool and shrugs off his jacket, then starts to uncoil the scarf.

"One of those days, eh?" Hagan is asked by the neighboring patron.
Miles takes a sip of his beer, then glances over toward Hagan. Literally looking the man from head to toe intently. It's not a normal glance, it's more like a stare as he examines the man's body thoroughly with just his eyes.

"Bloody New Year," mutters the Irishman. Hagan lifts the beer to his lips, then sips. Then he looks at Miles when the stare happens. "What are you looking at, precisely?" The tone is dull, a bit tired. "I'm wearing a very fancy H&M sweater if you're wondering who my designer is."

He lowers his head a bit shyly, smirking a little slyly while keeping his gaze on Hagan. He certainly is a good listener as he continues to look to Hagan while conversing with him. "Nice…" He leans toward Hagan just a little bit and says a bit more quietly than normal, "That is a nice sweater, but that's not what I was admiring. Can I buy you a drink?" He sits upright again, smiling politely, an attempt at some form of charm.

The look that passes over Hagan's face is utter confusion. One eye squints. A cigarette dangles out of his mouth. And then, after all that, all he says is a very articulate, "…eh?"

"Nothing… Can I buy you the next round?" He smiles broadly, then he lifts his hand and lazily points toward the man's cancer stick,"You know, those are really bad for you." He grins sheepishly at Hagan, tilting his head sideways before lifting it up to take another drink of his beer.

"Oh really? I thought they shot sunshine up my arse and let me live to be a hundred and twenty," Hagan takes a drag from the cigarette, then coughs a little. "If you want. I'm not going to turn down a pint." He takes a drink from his current and then looks up at the TV. Feh. American Football.

Miles chuckles, shaking his head,"That brings me to a after thought. Don't feel inclined to answer, but why are people such assholes? Have you really ever thought about that?" He chuckles lightly again, glancing toward Hagan,"And, depending on your religion, God has supposedly created us in his image? HA!" He shakes his head,"That's where I draw the line. If there WAS a God, if there was this omnipotent, ominous being that could see all, do all, etc etc… And we're created in his image?? What does that mean anyways? We're supposed to be like him? Then I guess that makes God an asshole too…. Ah.. now I'm ranting… I'll shut up."

"If I knew why people are assholes, then maybe I wouldn't be one myself," says Hagan. His tone is unapologetic. His eyes are half-lidded. He takes a drag from the cigarette and lets the smoke coil out slowly. As for the rest of it, all Miles gets is, "You are ranting, yes." And then it's back to his pint. If he's looking for stimulating philosophical conversation, it doesn't look like he's going to get it from the Irishman.

Miles nods his head agreeingly, "You and me both friend, you and me both." He offers his hand then, to Hagan and introduces himself,"I am Sam, and you are?" He smiles, taking another drink of the liquor in front of him, he waves his hand to the bartender ordering another pint and laying out the cash to pay for it on the counter.

"Hagan," he says absently. The shake is brief and half-hearted. That's because he's flagging down a waitress he recognizes. "Hey, Angie, is Isabelle in? No? Soon though?" The waitress looks at her watch and shrugs. The Irishman sighs and crushes out what's left of his cigarette.

"A pleasure, Hagan." He nods his head, glancing toward the waitress as the man asks for Isabelle. He's curious about that one too. He then turns his attention back to Hagan and smiles, "So you know Isabelle?" He leans forward onto the counter, his chin in his hand and elbow on the counter as he's turned to face Hagan.

"No, I just asked for her because I'm her stalker," Hagan fingers through his hair with both hands. It seems to be an expression of frustration. Hair flops and sticks up every which way. "Yes, I know her. We're…associates. I suppose." He takes a big mouthful of his beer.

"Associates huh?" Miles grins a little at that. Taking another drink and pouring himself a new glass from the pint. He lifts his head, sitting up right. "What kind of associates?" he asks curiously. He studies the man's body language frequently, still sizing him up from time to time.

Hagan looks uncomfortable. "I did a thing for her. Some logos." He's lying, but he's an awkward guy by nature, so it might be hard to tell. "Haven't known her very long." He keeps his eyes away from Miles, on the TV and the football he sneered at minutes before.

Miles chuckles lightly, glancing up toward the TV, watching it for a minute, letting the conversation settle on that for the moment…
… ….
Finally, he holds up a hand and a single index finger, opening his mouth partially as he's about to say something, but he let's his hand fall back to the counter and then he says to Hagan, "Well, I didn't expect you to say anything. I'm Miles, and I know about Isabelle's secret life…. Care to go talk in the back room?" He smiles politely at that.

All this cloak-and-dagger stuff is new to Hagan. He blinks at Miles. "I thought you said your name was Sam? Ad what secret life?" He's not been in Shedda very long, and he hasn't talked to Isabelle about possible recruits. So he has no idea who the other man is, dual names or no. And his reaction to this confusion? Drink a big mouthful of beer.

Miles shakes his head, smirking at Hagan. He slides out of the barstool, plucking up the pint of beer and his glass, "Come on." He shrugs his head to one side as he turns to move toward the back room, obviously expecting Hagan to follow.

"Hey look, buddy. I don't know who you are. I'm not following you into any little…" and then Hagan realizes he's speaking a bit loudly. Then he drops his voice, "…back room." He stays stubbornly put on the stool, jaw clenched.

Miles stops, glancing back to Hagan, tilting his head to the side slightly, then he looks around the room for a long, silent moment before turning his attention back to Hagan. He shrugs his shoulders, "I understand" he says normally, "But I know you're curious, and if you want to continue this conversation, then it'll have to be in private." He shrugs his shoulders and continues on toward the back room.

If Hagan didn't decide to satisfy said curiosity, Miles wouldn't have gotten very far. Strangers can't just waltz back in, after all. But the bouncers know Hagan, and have apparently been informed that he's one of the crew, so they're not stopped. However, the Irishman doesn't go right in. Instead he stands in the doorway with his pint, still in view of a bouncer not that far away. "You going to tell me what the fuck this is all about now?"

The man looks at the bouncers, he's not exactly one to take no for an answer but he doesn't impose his desire on the bouncers and as Hagan informs them that he's okay to pass. Miles then enters the room but stops just a few steps in to turn to give Hagan a funny look, tilting his head as he turns around to face Hagan, Miles asks,"What do you think it's about?"

"Well, you're either propositioning me, or you think I'm involved in something." Hagan's tone is such that it's hard to tell which he believes more. He leans on the door jam. "Or you're some kind of authority trying to trap me, make me say something incriminating." He swallows the rest of the beer and sets the empty pint aside. Then he pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

"Yes, those certainly are some points." Miles states rather cooly, almost too much so. He then smiles again, watching Hagan curiously,"And which one would you choose?" He takes a few steps closer to Hagan, but still keeping his distance respectably, waiting for his response.

Hagan barks laughter. "Choose? I'd choose for you to just be some fucker at the bar who isn't bothering me." He pulls from the cigarette and levels his gaze at Miles. "You say Isabelle knows you?"

Miles laughs, shaking his head,"If I wanted to bother you, there's certainly better options for that." He shrugs his shoulders, offering his pint to Hagan,"Not really no. I'm secretly an agent of some secret company that has been tracking her and all the Evolved so we can capture them and interrogate them about terrorist organizations." he says rather flatly and unemotionally. Almost too seriously, except for that grin spreading across his lips, he waits only a moment before he says,"We can beat around the bush all night, pal. But if you want to skip the bullshit, we can go have a chat right back there."

"I. Don't. Trust. You," says Hagan as he looks Miles in the eye. He doesn't take the pint. "And until you give me some reason to, or some proof that you know Isabelle, then I'm not telling you a damned thing." The raid on PARIAH is still fresh in his mind. Plus, he's a suspicious bastard. "And I'm certainly not 'having a chat' about what I do and don't know. If you feel like telling -me- all -your- secrets, then, I'm all ears." He motions with the hand that holds the cigarette, then takes a drag.

Miles looks at the pint of beer, then at Hagan, then he laughs. "Dude. You think I drugged the beer or something? You were sitting right next to me when I got it. Unless of course you think the bartender is in on some kind of elaborate conspiracy?" He shrugs his shoulders,"What kind of proof you want me to give you? You want me to pull some secret society membership card out of my ass to show you that I'm legit?" He frowns at that, sighing dissappointedly.

"You know what? Forget it." Miles then moves past Hagan, brushing a shoulder against him as he slips back out into the main room. "You've got to learn to be just a little more sociable, pal. I'm not asking you to tell me everything… and if I were authority and I were after Isabelle or whoever, you've already given yourself away. You might want to think about that a little more next time. That could have been just a stab in the dark and you would have failed miserably."

"No, I don't think you drugged the beer. But you could have a cold or something," says Hagan nonchalantly. He puts the cigarette up to his lips again and takes a slow, purposeful drag. As Miles passes, he murmurs, "Are you really going to blame me for being paranoid after a dozen of us just got arrested and another handful killed?" There's an admission, but there's also a look in Hagan's eyes as he searches Miles. He's not really good at reading people, but he's trying.

"A cold or something?" He tilts his head to the side. "Well then. Not only paranoid about people are we?" He laughs at that, but he cuts his laughter short when Hagan takes a more serious turn in the conversation, he then lowers his head narrowing his gaze on the man intently. "I understand why you're paranoid, but…. mm, well, let's just say you could smooth out some rugged edges there." He tilts his head to the side slightly,"I'll let you know, Izzy is supposed to be arranging a meeting for me with her superiors, and judging by our little encounter, I am guessing they are your superiors too."

"I admit my people skills need work, but this is why I'm not in recruitment," says Hagan. He keeps his gaze sharp. He only turns away to pulls from the cigarette, though he's polite enough not to blow smoke in Miles' face. "I'm low down on the totem. You're best off dealing with Izzy and the others. My…charm aside."

"Obviously. Well. I apologize if I made things uncomfortable for you" Miles states, "But like you, I'm not willing to disclose /everything/." He shrugs his shoulders,"I guess after I'm fully initiated we'll speak again. But for now, I have some business to take care of." He then turns and heads off, no good bye, Miles feels there's really no reason for the formal farewells, but he does toss a hand up into the air as some sort of wave over his shoulder as he heads for the exit.

Hagan stays standing in the threshold of the doorway. He doesn't turn when Miles walks away, just watches him for a minute over his shoulder. He waits just long enough to be sure the other man is out the door, then moves back to re-claim his spot at the bar.

January 3rd: Identical Triplets?
January 3rd: Devious Little Duckling
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