[Trying to work through it and failing, maybe. It seems like they should both have good reason to reach out to their targets as shoulders to cry on, so to speak.
This is the part of the job that Eggsy still needs a lot of practice in -- it's not something they'd covered much in their initial testing, and while he'd pulled off being Chester King for a short while, his cover had also been blown almost immediately. (Fucking Charlie.)
Still, at least he's doing this with Roxy. Granted, most of the other Kingsman agents are men two or three times his age, so that wouldn't have worked particularly well. Merlin had seemed rather pleased that he had two young, attractive agents to send off and pretend to be married whenever the occasion required it.
When Roxy reaches out for him, though, and starts going on about some other study she read, Eggsy meets her eyes, taken aback by how directly she says that she loves him. She means as a friend, of course, and there's never been any doubt that there's love between them, but it's one thing to know it and another to hear it.]
Of course. [Like he would take something like that personally. He knows where they stand.] And I -- I mean, it's mutual. We're just doing what we've got to so that we get the job done, yeah? [He flips his hand over and grasps Roxy's, giving it a quick squeeze.]
( i love you feels like something that cheapens the more you say it. though, and roxy recognizes the root of her reservations, that could just be because she doesn't say it much outside of the realm of close, immediate family. and even then, with good breeding and the proper distance between parent and child in the name of independence, she hasn't gushed to her mother or father about how much she loved them in years. they were a reasonably healthy, functional family; i love you was practically written into the contract, it was only appropriate.
and now, apparently, appropriate here too — with eggsy, in her living room, while they prepared to go undercover for realstically about a month.
it's just a job, he preaches, and she smiles; nods and continuing the streak of uncharacteristic — drunk, we'll blame it on the wine — affection, lifts his hand to her mouth to press a quick kiss to his knuckles before disengaging and going for more wine. monday morning sees eggsy unwin sprawled all over her couch, waking to the sound of wine glasses being washed, and staying for tea. but then they part ways, independent adults as they are.
there's affairs to be put in order. merlin says they can take one dog, and conscious of his extended stint in costa rica last mission, roxy offers to put duchess in the kennel so their house pet can be jb. he's a good dog; spoiled and perpetually happy, which might take the edge off any really aggrieved emotions that could manifest under the stain of their facade. there's also the matter of wardrobe and furniture, which merlin leaves to them. kingsman has got a warehouse of cars, and probably about ten more of clothing, furniture, wigs, and weaponry; roxy makes a day of lounging around her flat (she misses it while they're away) and picking out the clothes, bed, dresser, and dishes that will be in their moving van come wednesday afternoon. she also takes a virtual tour of their new house and thinks, if it weren't right next door to rich, potential technological terrorists, it would be quite a lovely place to live.
they're busy, and the next time she properly sees eggsy, it's in "their" car, with the moving van in tow. ) Hello, darling, ( she greets. but it lacks the sincerity that her father greets her mother with, and roxy resolves to work on that before they arrive. eggsy drives, for once, and there's a bit of idle chatter, but for the most part they're quiet in anticipation of their mission.
it's a nice neighborhood. expensive; old buildings; well trimmed lawns and she can hear a few kids scrapping in the distance, and a dog barking. in the back seat, jb is at the window making the little excited boofs that dogs do when excited. and in the front seat, she brushes eggsy's wrist on the gear stick before he can kill the engine and get out — before everything really starts. )
Nothing personal, yeah? ( like that's going to be the motto of their entire stint as husband and wife. )
[The other good thing about taking JB for this particular mission is that he's an extremely friendly dog, the sort that doesn't consider the possible danger before padding up to a stranger with his tongue lolling and a nonthreatening bark. It means that when they take him out on walks, it would be all too easy to fall into conversation with their next door neighbors.
While Eggsy does help some with picking out the furniture and their respective wardrobes, he leaves most of that to Roxy, instead reading up on the process of grief and what sort of advice is given to parents who have lost a child, when it comes to coping and moving on. He takes a few of the books with him, figuring that Roxy might want to have a look and it would make the whole thing more authentic if they have those lying around.
Suffice to say, they have both done their homework by the time that moving day arrives, and Eggsy is feeling a lot less nervous than he had on that night when they'd shared a bottle of wine in Roxy's flat.] Hello, sweetheart. [He speaks the words with a crooked smile, and while it might not be convincingly sincere yet, he'll get it down.
They drive into the neighborhood and Eggsy begins to catalog everything around them. He wants to know who lives where, he wants to know which houses have pets and which have children and which have both. He takes note of where an elderly couple is living, and notices which homes get JB more riled up, figuring they probably have animals of some sort.
He's preparing to get out and stride over to speak to the movers when Roxy stops him. It's one last remark before they have to put their masks on and play pretend for a month (though they should have some kind of privacy within their own "home," where they could drop character, he would imagine). He turns to her, gives her a long look, and nods with an easy smile.] Of course, Rox. I know how this works.
[He pats her on the shoulder and then gets out on the driver's side, then opens up the back door for JB first and foremost. The pug rockets out of the car and Eggsy laughs. If there's any time that he can be genuine, it's with animals and children.] I know, we're going to a new home! You're going to get to meet all the other dogs around here! Let's get you in the house for now, though. [Eggsy falls into the posh accent with no hesitation, having perfected it by now.
He snaps, a signal for JB to follow him which the dog responds to immediately, and then heads for the front door, digging into his pocket for the keys.]
( they could hope for privacy — later in the evening, when everyone in the neighborhood should be asleep and they're in their bed (singular — or on the couches, plural) with the blinds drawn and lights off. but who knows. that may not be enough. there was truth to the remors that surrounded rich, close knit communities, everyone was in everyones business and gossip was a very valuable form of currency. and what was more, they were supposed to be making themselves emotionally avalible; and to nosy neighbors that might mean leaving the blinds open and lights on while they — stiltedly — interacted like a married couple at odds.
speaking of married and at odds, roxy twiddles the ring on her finger. it's expensive and gorgeous and fits her perfectly, but is really little more than a jewel encrusted metrognome as she counts the seconds and carefully calculates how long it is before she follows him. every microexpression and every little twitch is carefully choreographed — from the quiet way she shuts her car door and pulls her sweater a little closer to her body, to the delay before she smiles at eggsy and jb.
they head for the door and she joins the movers to deliver canned directions on how she wanted her furniture handled. they're all various kingsman employees, they know how this is going to go.
but standing out on the lawn for ten minutes proves quite beneficial for their mission, and by the time she joins him in the entryway it's to report — )
I've seen movement in their upstairs window. ( and to theorize openly: ) What sort of baked goods do you think they'll bring us?
( there's only two small windows by the door in the little entryway, and their front door isn't remotely oriented towards richard and petra justice's house. but there's calculation in how intimately familiar and awkardly distant she holds herself in relation to him; like she feels she should be in his personal space but doesn't want to be. )
[It's probably for the best if they both assume that the moments when they'll get to drop character will be few and far between. That way they can prepare themselves for keeping their masks on permanently. This is a big test for both of them, one that they can't fail now that they're no longer trainees. But neither Roxy nor Eggsy has gone undercover for this long before.
JB makes a quick circuit of the first floor of the cozy little home that's going to be theirs for the foreseeable future. There's no furniture in place yet, so the dog has full reign of the place, and is quickly making himself at home. Much more quickly than Eggsy and Roxy will, in any case. But no, he should be thinking of them as Gary and Roxanne. God, he was never fond of his birth name. Still, Gary is better than Chester.
By the time that he and JB have done some exploring (of the backyard as well, which isn't huge but provides more than enough space for a pug) and Eggsy's making his way back to the front door, Roxy's on her way in.
The way she describes it, movement in the upstairs window, is a little too clinical for any normal person with a white picket fence. (This house has one of those. It's ridiculous.) Eggsy makes a note to warn her about it later, when it's safe to do so, and instead focuses on her question.]
Well, we probably shouldn't get our hopes up. They may not be the baking sort.
[Still, given the kind of neighborhood that they're in, he wouldn't be surprised if they did end up with some kind of housewarming gift. This is all so bizarre, a snapshot of a life that Eggsy never had, and he has to fling off that feeling that he doesn't belong here. That someone will see him for what he is and label him an impostor.
That's not going to happen, he tells himself.] Where should we wait while they're moving everything in? I don't want to get in the way.
( this neighborhood seemed like something out of a british version of desperate housewives, and she would be willing to bet doing all of the post mission paperwork that they'd get some sort of baked confection before the week was up.
eggsy mentions them being in the way just as ralph (from vehicle maintence) steps up behind them with a large box, too large to easily squeeze behind them even in the rather spacious entry way. the result is a rather awkward two step that only ends when roxy herds the two of them halfway up the stairs to the second level. )
Want to go complain about the garden? ( they were supposed to be making themselves avalible, weren't they? what better way to do that than be out in the open. )
[Complain about the garden? Eggsy takes a moment to realize what Roxy means, before he remembers that most people this rich usually find something to complain about even when everything looks perfect. It will make sure that they're out of the way of the movers while also putting them in a prime spot to be happened upon by their neighbors, so after a moment of contemplation he nods.]
Let's go.
[They could walk back out in single file, but instead Eggsy forces himself to consider how a couple would act, and he grabs for Roxy's wrist. It's not quite as intimate as looping his arm with hers, but it at least gives some indication that they're romantically involved.
He tugs her back out into the yard and takes a look around, tilting his head from side to side as he sizes it all up. He searches for some imagined flaw.]
I wish there were more posies. [That's a flower, isn't it?] We'll have to plant some, don't you think?
but she rolls with it, physically turning up her nose and staring down at the perfectly acceptable patches of babies breath and out of season rose bushes. )
I think we can hire someone to plant them, ( roxy contributes, with not quite as much enthusiasm as eggsy'd managed to force, but equal in volume. they stand close, shoulders bumping every so often as they make idle chatter and nitpick about the grass. by the time they've graduated from the yard to the house itself — with half the boxes were unloaded, and roxy loudly declaring she wasn't all that fond of the window trim — they have company.
petra justice is american, and just as loud and friendly as the stereotypes suggest. she's dressed rather professionally and jingling a set of keys, but makes a detour from her car to walk across the grass and say hello. )
Hi there, hi there — are you our new neighbors? Oh, that's just delightful, I was beginning to think that house would never sell.
( where it is customary in london to not introduce yourself to your neighbors until you'd got a five year basis of polite nods in passing established, mrs. justice doesn't really give them much of an option o shaking hands. she rigorously rings eggsy's, then roxy's. her grip is surprisingly strong for a thin little thing in her late 40's, and strangely soft. )
[Right, of course they would hire someone. Eggsy needs to get better at putting himself into the mindset of some puffed-up rich wanker, but it's a stretch for him. He'll work on it.
Even so, their attempts to be offended by the foliage around the house gets the job done eventually, as at least one of their marks comes by to introduce herself. The fact that she's American should open up plenty of interesting conversational topics, but they have to get through the pleasantries first.
If Eggsy's honest, Petra's direct attitude is actually a rather nice change from some of the passive-aggressive crap he's had to endure in his lifetime, but he forces himself to remain the correct level of reserved as befits a high-class Englishman.]
I'm Gary, and this is Roxanne. [He nods to Roxy, doing that annoying thing men do where they speak for their wife rather than allowing her to introduce herself. He gives the room they're in a quick, worried glance and then looks to Petra again.]
Is there something wrong with the house? If it wasn't selling...
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This is the part of the job that Eggsy still needs a lot of practice in -- it's not something they'd covered much in their initial testing, and while he'd pulled off being Chester King for a short while, his cover had also been blown almost immediately. (Fucking Charlie.)
Still, at least he's doing this with Roxy. Granted, most of the other Kingsman agents are men two or three times his age, so that wouldn't have worked particularly well. Merlin had seemed rather pleased that he had two young, attractive agents to send off and pretend to be married whenever the occasion required it.
When Roxy reaches out for him, though, and starts going on about some other study she read, Eggsy meets her eyes, taken aback by how directly she says that she loves him. She means as a friend, of course, and there's never been any doubt that there's love between them, but it's one thing to know it and another to hear it.]
Of course. [Like he would take something like that personally. He knows where they stand.] And I -- I mean, it's mutual. We're just doing what we've got to so that we get the job done, yeah? [He flips his hand over and grasps Roxy's, giving it a quick squeeze.]
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and now, apparently, appropriate here too — with eggsy, in her living room, while they prepared to go undercover for realstically about a month.
it's just a job, he preaches, and she smiles; nods and continuing the streak of uncharacteristic — drunk, we'll blame it on the wine — affection, lifts his hand to her mouth to press a quick kiss to his knuckles before disengaging and going for more wine. monday morning sees eggsy unwin sprawled all over her couch, waking to the sound of wine glasses being washed, and staying for tea. but then they part ways, independent adults as they are.
there's affairs to be put in order. merlin says they can take one dog, and conscious of his extended stint in costa rica last mission, roxy offers to put duchess in the kennel so their house pet can be jb. he's a good dog; spoiled and perpetually happy, which might take the edge off any really aggrieved emotions that could manifest under the stain of their facade. there's also the matter of wardrobe and furniture, which merlin leaves to them. kingsman has got a warehouse of cars, and probably about ten more of clothing, furniture, wigs, and weaponry; roxy makes a day of lounging around her flat (she misses it while they're away) and picking out the clothes, bed, dresser, and dishes that will be in their moving van come wednesday afternoon. she also takes a virtual tour of their new house and thinks, if it weren't right next door to rich, potential technological terrorists, it would be quite a lovely place to live.
they're busy, and the next time she properly sees eggsy, it's in "their" car, with the moving van in tow. ) Hello, darling, ( she greets. but it lacks the sincerity that her father greets her mother with, and roxy resolves to work on that before they arrive. eggsy drives, for once, and there's a bit of idle chatter, but for the most part they're quiet in anticipation of their mission.
it's a nice neighborhood. expensive; old buildings; well trimmed lawns and she can hear a few kids scrapping in the distance, and a dog barking. in the back seat, jb is at the window making the little excited boofs that dogs do when excited. and in the front seat, she brushes eggsy's wrist on the gear stick before he can kill the engine and get out — before everything really starts. )
Nothing personal, yeah? ( like that's going to be the motto of their entire stint as husband and wife. )
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While Eggsy does help some with picking out the furniture and their respective wardrobes, he leaves most of that to Roxy, instead reading up on the process of grief and what sort of advice is given to parents who have lost a child, when it comes to coping and moving on. He takes a few of the books with him, figuring that Roxy might want to have a look and it would make the whole thing more authentic if they have those lying around.
Suffice to say, they have both done their homework by the time that moving day arrives, and Eggsy is feeling a lot less nervous than he had on that night when they'd shared a bottle of wine in Roxy's flat.] Hello, sweetheart. [He speaks the words with a crooked smile, and while it might not be convincingly sincere yet, he'll get it down.
They drive into the neighborhood and Eggsy begins to catalog everything around them. He wants to know who lives where, he wants to know which houses have pets and which have children and which have both. He takes note of where an elderly couple is living, and notices which homes get JB more riled up, figuring they probably have animals of some sort.
He's preparing to get out and stride over to speak to the movers when Roxy stops him. It's one last remark before they have to put their masks on and play pretend for a month (though they should have some kind of privacy within their own "home," where they could drop character, he would imagine). He turns to her, gives her a long look, and nods with an easy smile.] Of course, Rox. I know how this works.
[He pats her on the shoulder and then gets out on the driver's side, then opens up the back door for JB first and foremost. The pug rockets out of the car and Eggsy laughs. If there's any time that he can be genuine, it's with animals and children.] I know, we're going to a new home! You're going to get to meet all the other dogs around here! Let's get you in the house for now, though. [Eggsy falls into the posh accent with no hesitation, having perfected it by now.
He snaps, a signal for JB to follow him which the dog responds to immediately, and then heads for the front door, digging into his pocket for the keys.]
no subject
speaking of married and at odds, roxy twiddles the ring on her finger. it's expensive and gorgeous and fits her perfectly, but is really little more than a jewel encrusted metrognome as she counts the seconds and carefully calculates how long it is before she follows him. every microexpression and every little twitch is carefully choreographed — from the quiet way she shuts her car door and pulls her sweater a little closer to her body, to the delay before she smiles at eggsy and jb.
they head for the door and she joins the movers to deliver canned directions on how she wanted her furniture handled. they're all various kingsman employees, they know how this is going to go.
but standing out on the lawn for ten minutes proves quite beneficial for their mission, and by the time she joins him in the entryway it's to report — )
I've seen movement in their upstairs window. ( and to theorize openly: ) What sort of baked goods do you think they'll bring us?
( there's only two small windows by the door in the little entryway, and their front door isn't remotely oriented towards richard and petra justice's house. but there's calculation in how intimately familiar and awkardly distant she holds herself in relation to him; like she feels she should be in his personal space but doesn't want to be. )
no subject
JB makes a quick circuit of the first floor of the cozy little home that's going to be theirs for the foreseeable future. There's no furniture in place yet, so the dog has full reign of the place, and is quickly making himself at home. Much more quickly than Eggsy and Roxy will, in any case. But no, he should be thinking of them as Gary and Roxanne. God, he was never fond of his birth name. Still, Gary is better than Chester.
By the time that he and JB have done some exploring (of the backyard as well, which isn't huge but provides more than enough space for a pug) and Eggsy's making his way back to the front door, Roxy's on her way in.
The way she describes it, movement in the upstairs window, is a little too clinical for any normal person with a white picket fence. (This house has one of those. It's ridiculous.) Eggsy makes a note to warn her about it later, when it's safe to do so, and instead focuses on her question.]
Well, we probably shouldn't get our hopes up. They may not be the baking sort.
[Still, given the kind of neighborhood that they're in, he wouldn't be surprised if they did end up with some kind of housewarming gift. This is all so bizarre, a snapshot of a life that Eggsy never had, and he has to fling off that feeling that he doesn't belong here. That someone will see him for what he is and label him an impostor.
That's not going to happen, he tells himself.] Where should we wait while they're moving everything in? I don't want to get in the way.
no subject
eggsy mentions them being in the way just as ralph (from vehicle maintence) steps up behind them with a large box, too large to easily squeeze behind them even in the rather spacious entry way. the result is a rather awkward two step that only ends when roxy herds the two of them halfway up the stairs to the second level. )
Want to go complain about the garden? ( they were supposed to be making themselves avalible, weren't they? what better way to do that than be out in the open. )
no subject
Let's go.
[They could walk back out in single file, but instead Eggsy forces himself to consider how a couple would act, and he grabs for Roxy's wrist. It's not quite as intimate as looping his arm with hers, but it at least gives some indication that they're romantically involved.
He tugs her back out into the yard and takes a look around, tilting his head from side to side as he sizes it all up. He searches for some imagined flaw.]
I wish there were more posies. [That's a flower, isn't it?] We'll have to plant some, don't you think?
no subject
but she rolls with it, physically turning up her nose and staring down at the perfectly acceptable patches of babies breath and out of season rose bushes. )
I think we can hire someone to plant them, ( roxy contributes, with not quite as much enthusiasm as eggsy'd managed to force, but equal in volume. they stand close, shoulders bumping every so often as they make idle chatter and nitpick about the grass. by the time they've graduated from the yard to the house itself — with half the boxes were unloaded, and roxy loudly declaring she wasn't all that fond of the window trim — they have company.
petra justice is american, and just as loud and friendly as the stereotypes suggest. she's dressed rather professionally and jingling a set of keys, but makes a detour from her car to walk across the grass and say hello. )
Hi there, hi there — are you our new neighbors? Oh, that's just delightful, I was beginning to think that house would never sell.
( where it is customary in london to not introduce yourself to your neighbors until you'd got a five year basis of polite nods in passing established, mrs. justice doesn't really give them much of an option o shaking hands. she rigorously rings eggsy's, then roxy's. her grip is surprisingly strong for a thin little thing in her late 40's, and strangely soft. )
I'm Petra. What are your names?
no subject
Even so, their attempts to be offended by the foliage around the house gets the job done eventually, as at least one of their marks comes by to introduce herself. The fact that she's American should open up plenty of interesting conversational topics, but they have to get through the pleasantries first.
If Eggsy's honest, Petra's direct attitude is actually a rather nice change from some of the passive-aggressive crap he's had to endure in his lifetime, but he forces himself to remain the correct level of reserved as befits a high-class Englishman.]
I'm Gary, and this is Roxanne. [He nods to Roxy, doing that annoying thing men do where they speak for their wife rather than allowing her to introduce herself. He gives the room they're in a quick, worried glance and then looks to Petra again.]
Is there something wrong with the house? If it wasn't selling...