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ajremixTitle: Diplomacy Check
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG
Word Count: 819
Characters: Mick, Turnbull
Summary: Missing scene from 2x06. The standoff deescalates.
"You just gonna stand there and make threats? Or you gonna back it up?"
Turnbull just looked at him, calculating, gauging how muck of Mick was talk. Which was quite a bit, honestly- Mick could bullshit with the best of them but he never hesitated to get his hands dirty. Turnbull took a step back, then another, pushing his coat out of the way of his dual pistols. "You got an iron pair, at least," he drawled, not at all looking concerned, "calling me out in my very own establishment."
"You gonna return the favor by taking me on yourself or should I be expecting to be shot in the back?" Turnbull's gaze sharpened and Mick laughed in response. "Yeah, I know most these men work for you. Maybe all, hadn't had a chance to size every last one up. But if it ain't coming from you, I request your chickie be the one to do me in."
"My what?"
"Lady with the Derringer up her skirt." Mick smirked, crooked and lecherous. "'S why you sent her over, right? Keep an eye on me, see if she could pick up anything worth passing on to you, then, if you decide I'm more trouble than you feel like dealing with, take me somewhere where I'm expecting a good time and not a bullet in my skull."
Turnbull's lips pressed together, gaze re-calculating. "What makes you think all these folk are mine?"
Mick scoffed- he knew a test when he was faced with one. Or when people liked throwing them at Len because they didn't think the serial arsonist would be worth testing. "'S what I'd do. 'This is where most all the new folk come in to get a drink, information, both. Good place for you to see who the troublemakers are plus," he nodded at the dealer- who was pretty good, it was just Mick had learned to cheat from the best -he'd been playing against, "good way to get people in your debt. Even if you didn't own the town, it'd be missed opportunity not snatching up this place first chance you got."
Even under the shadow of his mustache, Mick could see a smile crinkling the edges of Turnbull's lips. "Where you from, traveler?"
"You saying you know every man in this area?"
"Just the ones with an ounce of intelligence." Though she was on the very edge of periphery already, Mick turned his back completely to Amaya. Now wasn't the time to get distracted by her reaction. "I own damn near every town in this county and they have strict instructions to send men with even half a brain right to me."
Mick narrowed his eyes like he hadn't expected this and was suspicious. "This a job interview?"
"You have a good eye, sir," he admitted slowly, like he was still deciding how exactly he wanted to play this.
"Got two of 'em, even."
Turnbull let his coat fall back into place, leaning up against the bar like there hadn't just been the threat of a shoot out. If Mick hadn't had the vast experience dealing with mobsters and Len, the move would've caught him by surprise. Every big shot criminal he knew was like a damn cat, acting like every little thing they did was deliberate. "I'm always on the lookout for smart men. Don't get me wrong- I'll hire anyone that'll get the job done, but the important work only goes to the very best."
He scoffed, "And you think I could be one of 'em." He didn't need to look at Amaya's reaction, Mick was barely able to keep from rolling his own eyes. He'd never had an interest in being anyone's lapdog and the whole conversation was making him hyper-aware of the empty space to his right. He couldn't even laugh at the situation because he had no one to scoff about it with him.
"Could be. Tell me, you looking for something or running from something?"
Mick shrugged, "Bit of both."
That made Turnbull smile. "Ah, one of those. I'm familiar with that type of man." From the expression in his eyes, Mick didn't doubt he had a good idea of what Mick's type was. Funny how the criminals were always the one that got a better bead on him than his own damn team. Turnbull gestured to the bartender who promptly sat down two shot glasses and an unopened bottle on the counter. Mick eyed it- Star brand whiskey, hadn't heard of it before but it had to be better than the rotgut he'd been drinking. Around them business restarted as usual though Mick could still feel eyes intent on him. "What d'you say you and I have a little sitdown and chat?" Turnbull gave a charming smile. "Never trusted a man I can't have a drink with."
Mick's lips pressed into a long smile. "If you're buying, I'm drinking."
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG
Word Count: 819
Characters: Mick, Turnbull
Summary: Missing scene from 2x06. The standoff deescalates.
"You just gonna stand there and make threats? Or you gonna back it up?"
Turnbull just looked at him, calculating, gauging how muck of Mick was talk. Which was quite a bit, honestly- Mick could bullshit with the best of them but he never hesitated to get his hands dirty. Turnbull took a step back, then another, pushing his coat out of the way of his dual pistols. "You got an iron pair, at least," he drawled, not at all looking concerned, "calling me out in my very own establishment."
"You gonna return the favor by taking me on yourself or should I be expecting to be shot in the back?" Turnbull's gaze sharpened and Mick laughed in response. "Yeah, I know most these men work for you. Maybe all, hadn't had a chance to size every last one up. But if it ain't coming from you, I request your chickie be the one to do me in."
"My what?"
"Lady with the Derringer up her skirt." Mick smirked, crooked and lecherous. "'S why you sent her over, right? Keep an eye on me, see if she could pick up anything worth passing on to you, then, if you decide I'm more trouble than you feel like dealing with, take me somewhere where I'm expecting a good time and not a bullet in my skull."
Turnbull's lips pressed together, gaze re-calculating. "What makes you think all these folk are mine?"
Mick scoffed- he knew a test when he was faced with one. Or when people liked throwing them at Len because they didn't think the serial arsonist would be worth testing. "'S what I'd do. 'This is where most all the new folk come in to get a drink, information, both. Good place for you to see who the troublemakers are plus," he nodded at the dealer- who was pretty good, it was just Mick had learned to cheat from the best -he'd been playing against, "good way to get people in your debt. Even if you didn't own the town, it'd be missed opportunity not snatching up this place first chance you got."
Even under the shadow of his mustache, Mick could see a smile crinkling the edges of Turnbull's lips. "Where you from, traveler?"
"You saying you know every man in this area?"
"Just the ones with an ounce of intelligence." Though she was on the very edge of periphery already, Mick turned his back completely to Amaya. Now wasn't the time to get distracted by her reaction. "I own damn near every town in this county and they have strict instructions to send men with even half a brain right to me."
Mick narrowed his eyes like he hadn't expected this and was suspicious. "This a job interview?"
"You have a good eye, sir," he admitted slowly, like he was still deciding how exactly he wanted to play this.
"Got two of 'em, even."
Turnbull let his coat fall back into place, leaning up against the bar like there hadn't just been the threat of a shoot out. If Mick hadn't had the vast experience dealing with mobsters and Len, the move would've caught him by surprise. Every big shot criminal he knew was like a damn cat, acting like every little thing they did was deliberate. "I'm always on the lookout for smart men. Don't get me wrong- I'll hire anyone that'll get the job done, but the important work only goes to the very best."
He scoffed, "And you think I could be one of 'em." He didn't need to look at Amaya's reaction, Mick was barely able to keep from rolling his own eyes. He'd never had an interest in being anyone's lapdog and the whole conversation was making him hyper-aware of the empty space to his right. He couldn't even laugh at the situation because he had no one to scoff about it with him.
"Could be. Tell me, you looking for something or running from something?"
Mick shrugged, "Bit of both."
That made Turnbull smile. "Ah, one of those. I'm familiar with that type of man." From the expression in his eyes, Mick didn't doubt he had a good idea of what Mick's type was. Funny how the criminals were always the one that got a better bead on him than his own damn team. Turnbull gestured to the bartender who promptly sat down two shot glasses and an unopened bottle on the counter. Mick eyed it- Star brand whiskey, hadn't heard of it before but it had to be better than the rotgut he'd been drinking. Around them business restarted as usual though Mick could still feel eyes intent on him. "What d'you say you and I have a little sitdown and chat?" Turnbull gave a charming smile. "Never trusted a man I can't have a drink with."
Mick's lips pressed into a long smile. "If you're buying, I'm drinking."
