Animal Instincts [open, casual]

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James was used to playing parts, he had to be. A good deal of his heists had to rely on his ability to adapt but he never stayed in one of his characters for too long. Not until Sebastian came along.

James Edwards was a well developed persona that James could slip into whenever he wanted and, around the boy, James wore it like his favorite suit. He never took it off. James was getting too comfortable for his own good. It felt like the real James was slipping away, James Edwards was becoming a tattoo, not a suit.

Telling Sebastian to fuck off for a few days was oddly satisfying, mostly because James knew that Sebastian would be there once he was ready to be Edwards again.

Feeling like quite the predator, James entered a bar, looking for someone to destroy. Dressed to attract, James positioned himself at the bar. Knowing the tricks of the trade, he ordered a martini so that others would read him as sophisticated and debonair (which he was but who was he to argue with the public's obsession with James Bond).

Leaning against the bar, James let his eyes rove over the potentials. There were many a single person there tonight, single and desperate. Slowly and deliberately making eye contact with anyone who glanced his way, James smirked and sipped at his martini. He didn't like martinis, they tasted like shit in his opinion, but they attracted the ladies. It was the perfect bait so to speak. It would attract wayward souls for James to chew up and spit out.

James needed the shot of being hated, of being the source of someone's tears, their anger to remind him. He wasn't Professor James Edwards. He would never be Professor James Edwards. It was just a part to be played and it was a part that needed to be put away. He was tired of playing that part. Since Sebastian wasn't going anywhere, he might as well be introduced to James's true nature. But first, a game.

James took another sip from his martini and waited.

[hamlet]

Well this was a familiar sight- Harry Chandler at a bar.

...and still for no particular reason other than to feel numb for a bit. Ophelia was busy doing a project for the rest of the night and respecting her work ethic, Harry left being alone with her for another day. Now that his night was free, there were a few things he wasn't going to do - go back to the Chandler mansion, go back to work, or call it a night. All three of those things required him to end up thinking about things that he didn't want to think about or he was to exhausted to think about.

So he drove himself to the bars, to get that familiar taste of bourbon on his tongue - and to forget his racing thoughts for once. To forget trying to analyze Claudius' every move, to forget the visions of his father that he kept seeing, to forget about this paranoid feeling that his time was running out - that soon he'd end up just like his father. Clearly, if he sat alone with his thoughts too long, he'd really drive himself mad if he hasn't already. Lately, Harry was beginning to question that fact.

In a way that was good, because so was everyone else, even Claudius. Harry expected that soon, someone would call him in for an intervention because they thought he had an alcohol problem. Sure, he might have one, but they didn't know that most of the time Harry was putting on a show. The New York Times certainly got a handful when Harry was interviewed, that was for sure. Harry was pretty sure that reporter would never want to speak to him again.

So Harry was here again...otherwise drowning his sorrows and grief.

A man sat next to him, ordered a martini, and seemed to want to have eye sex with many of the people sitting at the bar. And somewhat buzzed already, Harry couldn't help but say something. "Look who's arrived," Harry commented with a somewhat lazy tone. He glanced at the man's way, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. "A man on a mission." Okay so that was rude. Most people came to bars looking for a hook up, unlike Harry who just wanted some place to be other than in his head.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

"Look who's arrived. A man on a mission."

James raised an eyebrow and looked over at the man who spoke to him. A strapping young lad who appeared to be rather down on his luck, so to speak. "And you're not?" The boy had made a beeline for the bar, asking for a bourbon right away. That was a mission if James had ever seen one. Getting sloshed was a valiant goal for some, James didn't think it was all that great. There were better ways to get out of one's head.

James gave a low chuckle and swivled around on the stool to face the bar. He drained his martini and ordered a completely different drink; scotch. James sincerely doubted that this particular young man would be welcoming to his advances but that was exactly the point. He was at the bar to piss someone off.

Licking his lower lip slowly to catch a drop of scotch that lingered, James looked the boy over critically.

"You're Harry Chandler," James said it as a statement. The face of the drunken, assumed crazed business man was plastered over the news on a regular basis. There had been an interview with him a while back that was very revealing of the man's attitude. James kept that in mind as he watched the boy carefully for the reaction.

He expected annoyance and sarcasm if the interview was anything to go by.

[hamlet]

And you're not?"

Touche.

Would waiting around for months while he speculated, speculated, and oh yeah, speculated some more about what his uncle did or did not do in relation to his father's death be a sign of a 'man on a mission'? Not really, actually. But Harry would like to think he was. Simply put, Harry was a man of thought before action and in some cases, that was a good thing. In his case, Harry was starting to think not so much.

"Well," Harry said. "Depends on what kind of mission we're talking about." He took a swallow of his drink. If it involved getting drunk as fast as he could, then yes.

"You're Harry Chandler,"

"Noo," Harry said quickly with heavy sarcasm, looking back at the guy with a smirk. "Not that guy." He was being sarcastic but in a way, there was some truth to it. If he really was the man he recognized, he wouldn't even be at this bar right now. "And you must be Mr. Observant." Not that it took much to recognize Harry but strangely enough, people don't often put the face to the name outside of the papers. When Harry went to the bars, he was just any guy - not a local celebrity. Good thing it was just the business world he was a part of and not entertainment.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James wasn't disappointed in Chandler's reaction. His words were dripping in sarcasm with a slight bitter edge. Wonderful. Gleeful at what that meant for the rest of their encounter: anger, violence, depression. Everything that James was looking for and everything he needed. It didn't hurt that Chandler was easy on the eyes. James strongly suspected that he wasn't into men, but that didn't make much difference. If anything, it made it easier. A few drinks in and James would test it out. A light touch here, an overly obvious look there...it wouldn't take much.

"And you must be Mr. Observant."

James gave a small smile and held out his hand. "Professor James Edwards actually," Wanting to play it safe and wanting to make his plan work, James refrained from usual his usual greeting, a kiss on the hand. Better not to scare him off yet.

[hamlet]

Harry tried to figure out if he heard that name before, that maybe he was speaking to a business associate of Hamlet Enterprises or one of the companies' rivals and not realize it. Not that there were any shortage of PHD professors in the business world. Then again if he was, what the hell did it matter? Not that Harry was all that invested in the company anyway or his reputation for that matter. Claudius made it very clear that Harry's drinking and tendency to act like the fool was hurting Hamlet Enterprises' reputation (and that is the only reason why he'd even pretend to care about Harry acting the way he does) - so yeah, who cares who this guy is. Harry really was on a mission - to try and make Claudius' life miserable without him thinking he was doing it on purpose. So far that mission was turning out pretty successful.

"Professor James Edwards actually,"

"Well, professor," Harry said. "It's a pleasure." He lifted his glass, tipping it towards James in a small toasting gesture before drinking the rest of its contents and asking for another.

"So do I have to guess what you're professor of?" He asked. "Or is that a mystery even you're students are trying to figure out?" He grinned at him to show he was joking lightheartedly. If the guy does say business, Harry would definitely need a few more drinks.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James returned Harry's toast and took a small sip of his beverage. He wasn't going to get drunk tonight, at least not yet. It wasn't any fun when alcohol overpowered his common sense. James needed to keep a hold of his authority, his sanity, and most importantly, every little action. It would serve no purpose to become sloppy and clumsy. James sat his glass back down onto the bar, running a finger around the lip thoughtfully.

"No need to guess. I'm a professor of Criminal Law, Civil Law, and Literature," Also no need to tell young Harry Chandler how long he's been a professor. Not many people reacted favorably when James disclosed that he's been a professor since his early twenties. People tended to either fawn or assume he was an arrogant bastard. Which he was but that's beside the point. James humored Harry by smiling in concession to his rather poorly executed joke.

James leaned against the bar and addressed Harry with calm eyes. Where to go from there. Small talk, certainly, but of what was yet to be decided. Politics weren't the lad's thing, as seen in the interview. The weather was mundane, profession was established. Bypassing the cliched "Do you come here often?" James settled on a slight variation.

"What brings you out tonight?"

[hamlet]

"Really?" Harry said. "Looks like you give the famous detective Sherlock Holmes a run for his money. He brings them into the system, you take them out in the court of law - providing you're on their side of course." He glanced at him with a smirk. Holmes was the most well known detective in the city, surely this guy would have heard of him.

And he was a professor of law - so just in case he happened to drunkenly spill his guts about seriously wanting to strangle his uncle, possibly getting turned in would really make his night! Great! Lawyers and people who studied law - well, Harry was sure they talked their way around law all the time - but they liked to put up a front that they respected it. Still, Harry didn't know what was being so paranoid about, he got along with Sherlock Holmes fine enough. But then again, he wasn't as on edge as he is now. He didn't feel like he was on the edge of discovering something huge about Claudius.

"What brings you out tonight?"

Grief? Brooding? Escapism? Family angst? A corrupt company? A desperate attempt to silence his brain for once? A relationship destined for failure? His dead father haunting him?

How ever will he chose?

"Isn't it obvious?" He said before taking a quick shot of his drink. Feeling it going fast down his throat made him wince just a little. He looked at James and said nonchalantly: "...the tuesday night special. Isn't that whatyou're here for?" He stifled a laugh a bit, showing he wasnt being very serious. "3 dollar pitchers doesn't seem to be your thing."

"No, you look more like you're meeting someone," Harry added, and lifted the glass to his lips, pausing before drinking. "If I'm right, either they're late or I'm stealing their thunder," he stated offhandedly. "And if I'm wrong," He finished off the drink again, blinking a few times afterward, starting to feel the buzz . He turned to James. "...weell, I can't say I'm all that good at reading people as of late. It won't be surprising."

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James had to resist rolling his eyes at the mention of Holmes, that menace. "Detective Holmes is something else," James replied vaguely. Neither scorn nor praise. Just a statement of the truth. Holmes isn't of the mettle of other man, even other detectives, that much was clear.

"3 dollar pitchers doesn't seem to be your thing."

"I don't drink beer. It's disgusting and lowly," James raised his glass of top-shelf liquor as if to demonstrate. Beer was a horrid thing and the brew that they divied out into plastic pitchers was the worst of it all. James only imbibed in that swill when it was strictly neccessary which was, thankfully, almost never. James loathed having to drink the common man's booze; he was better than the common man. So much better in fact. It would be a crime to lower himself to such a position.

James turned his body to face Harry, his knee mere inches away from the boy's pant leg. "I didn't arrive with anyone special in mind. I've grown tired of the same ol' same ol', I'm looking for a new experience," James left the words hang in the air. It would be up to Harry Chandler to take them as a come on or a simple fact.

[hamlet]

Harry wasn't in the right frame of mind to get subtle hints, otherwise he absolutely would. Harry tended to put extra meaning into body language and the way James looked at him, the way he shifted his body, would have had Harry's mind spouting off all kinds of theories about what he was up to. But his purpose for coming to this bar was not to think, and the alcohol was certainly helping him do just that - slowly but surely.

"I don't drink beer. It's disgusting and lowly,"

Harry laughed a bit again as his glass was refilled. "Ooo, on a mission and elitist. Good for you." he observed aloud, not really thinking it could come off as an insult before the comment left his mouth. And the only action Harry was willing to make on that was just hoping that the man didn't take it personally. What could he say, he wasn't exactly in the mood for apologies either.

"I didn't arrive with anyone special in mind. I've grown tired of the same ol' same ol', I'm looking for a new experience,"

The comment made Harry turn to him as well. This guy was amusing to say the least. But that was probably the alcohol talking. He was drinking pretty fast. With a lopsided grin, he lifted an eyebrow and said, "In a bar? Word of advice - " he leaned in closer to him and whispered pretty loudly, faking as if he were telling him a secret - "I'd reevaluate that plan if I were you." Lean back in his seat, he started on his next drink. After a swallow, he added. "Unless you're up for a new batch of douchebags and sleazes to come your way, in that case you have a wide variety."

(OOC - aaaand I totally forgot about this thread. FORGIVE MEEE)