A Little PR Now and Then

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Assassin's Creed Syndicate
Summary: Jacob and Evie start to work on their plan.
Word Count: 970
Rating: Teen

          Jacob won’t quite meet her eyes.  “You haven’t offered me food in a while.”
          “Yes, well, we’ve both behaved in a rotten way,” she states matter-of-factly, spreading the jam and handing the bread to her brother.  He takes a bite and sits back, closing his eyes, luxuriating in the taste.  “This tea was a present from Mr. Green, from India,” she tells him as she pours him a cup.
          That gets him to open his eyes.  “Well, now, sharing a present from Greenie.  Now I know you’ve forgiven me.”
          “Jacob…”  Her tone is warning, pleading.  Don’t.  Please.
          He holds up a hand and takes a sip, coughing a little as he does.  “It’s spicy,” he states, surprised, and it takes a moment or two for the smile to return.  “If one were at all educated, one might make allusions to a certain Assassin’s character and hidden depths.”
          Evie finds herself unexpectedly charmed.  Clumsy though it might be, her little brother is making an effort, and he’s acted more playful than annoying, so it wasn’t even all his fault—stupid, of course not. This was one of his impulsive ideas, one that he thought was a good one given that you backed him.  Coming to London, he expected you to be the one with the plans, not to just keep sniping at him and acting like Father.  “Might one?”
          “I like it,” he declares, drinking it down faster than would be required in polite society, but she finds she doesn’t mind, given the way this is turning out.  “So, where do we start?”  And there’s his endless energy, good for both him and the world when properly directed instead of aimlessly applied.  “The food, since that’s the only decent idea we’ve had?”
          She nods, feeling a little sheepish.  “Yes, well, I’ve perhaps grown a touch complacent.  I’m used to having our missions planned for us, or at the most doing research on my own.”
          Jacob nods, eyes lively as he opens his arms wide.  “The world’s finest bloodhounds, point us at a target and we’ll take ‘em down.”  The tone is a good approximation of George’s, and she giggles, which earns the quick flash of a smile before he turns his attention back to the map of London.  They sit quietly, the rattle of the train and the pouring of the rain in the background, nibbling at their sandwiches and other delicacies, before her twin states slowly, “…Evie.”
          “Yes?” It’s not a rash, in the moment thought, so it’ll probably be a good one.
          “Why did we never see it before?”  He sounds wondering.
          “You were too busy acting in the moment and I was too busy worrying about you for either of us to use our heads properly?” she offers, and at the look, scarred eyebrow and all, she shrugs.  “It’s my best guess.”
          “We use your strength!”  He’s excited, leg bouncing uncontrollably, and looks at her as if she’s supposed to join his enthusiasm.
          She raises an eyebrow.
          He wilts a little, but his voice rises even further, loud even beyond the rain, the way it always does when he can’t contain himself.  “Research!”
          She’s even more lost.  “Sorry, you’ll have to explain.”
          He stands and begins pacing, as best he can in the confined space.  “We don’t know what London needs, so where do we turn?”
          “…Mr. Green?” she asks after a pause, and he shakes his head.
          “Oh, it wouldn’t hurt to ask Greenie, but he’s still thinking like an Assassin, watching people, taking out targets.  No, we turn,” he pauses dramatically and waves at the window, “…to London!”
          “We…can’t talk to a city,” she responds, taken aback.
          He sits back down, still fidgeting, and pops a whole miniature sandwich in his mouth, mostly finishing chewing it before he replies.  “No, but we can talk to the people in it.  Who better would know than the Londoners themselves what they need?”
          That…is actually an excellent suggestion.  She leans forward, and from the sudden twinkle in his eyes she knows he’s spotted her sudden interest.  “We could talk to Clara, the Rooks...”
          He nods fervently.  “Anyone and everyone.  The Templars pretend that they’re the only ones who care about the fundamental institutions of our society.  Let’s prove them wrong, build better ones that both help the people and let them live their lives in freedom, without starving despite holding a job or worrying that their wages will be docked due to an accident, without worrying that they’ll be seen doing the ‘wrong thing’ or that they’ll be held back due to their age or an accident of birth.”  He glances at her, and she grins, wolfish, at that.  Some might consider her less capable because she was a woman; Jacob knows she’s every bit his equal and worth more than probably a majority of men in the city.  When she’s not quoting Father at him.
          That actually sparks an idea of her own.  Two, actually.  “We could see if we couldn’t repurpose some of the factories we liberated from Starrick—to serve as places for the poor to sleep.  And we could see about employing Londoners who would otherwise go to the workhouses to help us in our charitable enterprises.”
          “That’s the spirit, Evie!”  He grabs her and pulls her in close, grinning manically.  “I’ll go and see Freddy on advice as to how to best legally go about our little plan, while you interrogate every Londoner you see.”
          And then he stands and runs to the opening of the carriage, throwing himself out into the rain.  Which, she has no doubt, he’s forgotten about.  She would’ve stopped him if he’d given her time.
          Yes, she thinks, sighting and finding them two umbrellas before standing up herself, hearing the swearing falling away behind the train.  No doubt whatsoever.