Work Text:
Eliot rubbed his lower back as he paused in his work. He figured if they were going to take over the stables then he might as well put the effort in to look the part. Mucking out wasn’t a glamorous job but he was happy enough to help.
“I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
Eliot froze as the voice from behind him. Not just because he knew the voice but also the words. The way he felt them burn across his ribs. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way. He’d known those words forever. He’d read them over and over, backwards in the mirror. When he’d been younger, he’d hoped that someone would say them to him right. Then as he’d gotten older and his life had gone in ways he hadn’t wanted them to, he’d realised that he couldn’t ever hear someone say the words in the way he wanted them to.
Plenty of people had said the same words to him that his soulmate would. He just wished the man standing behind him hadn’t been one of them.
He turned and leaned casually, pushing away the turmoil of emotions so they wouldn’t show on his face, “Oh yeah? And what can I do for a city boy like you?”
He saw the way that Sterling reacted. Knew immediately that he wasn’t imagining it. This was real and something they’d both have to deal with. What the hell did people do when their soulmate was someone they hated?
Sterling covered the obvious flair from the words very well, “I wanted to talk about your boss. Nathan Ford.”
“No sir,” Eliot shook his head, keeping himself in the persona he was playing. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t know any Nathan Ford.”
“I think you do,” Sterling said, leaning against one of the wooden walls, “Except he calls himself Bob Gibson and he’s here to con my client, Mr Foss.”
“Well then fair play to him,” Eliot said, going back to working, “If the rumours I’ve heard about Mr Foss are true, he deserves to be conned. Least that way he can’t murder any more horses.”
“And you really believe that? That it was his fault?”
“He gets his investment back. And he seems like a mean son of a bitch. Plus…” Eliot stopped what he was doing, turned all his attention onto Sterling, “He’s never heard a horse in agony. He’s never seen what it’s like. Never heard a horse scream in fear and pain. No one who had ever witnessed anything like that would ever let a stable burn, even for a second. So yes, I believe it was Mr Foss’s fault. And if Mr Gibson really is this Nathan Ford than I wish him every success.”
“Whatever Nate’s planning, I’m going to stop him.”
“See,” Eliot moved in closer, “I don’t think you are. I think if you had any real evidence that what you say is true you would have told Mr Foss everything. You would have made it real clear to him that he was being conned. So, either you’re bluffing,” He smiled at him, their faces inches apart, “Or you want to see this guy go down. Anything so as you don’t have to write a nice fat insurance check, right?”
Sterling stared at him, licking his lips ever so slightly, “How about we quit the crap now, Mr Spencer.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, I think you do. See, I know that you’re Eliot Spencer. I know you’re here along with Nate Ford and Sophie Deveraux to con Alan Foss out of everything he has. And I know you want to do everything you can to stop me finding out.”
Smirking, Eliot folded his arms across his chest, “Then what are you going to do about it, Sterling?”
“Nothing. You’re right, I don’t want to write a two million dollar check. I’d love to see Nate hang himself with this but he’s too smart for that. I just don’t think he should be taking people like you down with him.”
“Is this a warning?”
“To stay away from Nate? Absolutely. But there’s nothing I can do if you don’t want to see what he is.”
“Anything else?”
Sterling looked pained for a moment, “On a… less professional note,” he began, “I think you and I need to talk.” He handed Eliot a card with the name of a local hotel, “Meet me in the bar tonight. Say… around eight.” He smiled at him a little, “Off the record.”
Eliot took the card and considered it. This could be a trap, but at the same time, he could still feel the burning script across his ribs, “I’ll be there.” He said quietly. And he would. He had to know what might happen next.