Chapter Text
The day had been relatively quiet so far. If Sebastian would look back later to this moment it would be obvious to him that it had been too quiet, certainly when living together with a consulting criminal that was almost constantly bored. He was reading a book that he had read over and over again' the spine was worn and there were loose pages throughout the book. But still, he liked it, and every time he found himself with some time off and really nothing better to do he always found himself reading 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', stretched out on the Chesterfield-sofa with a mug of milky tea.
A deafening bang echoed through the house and the sniper jumped up with a curse, snapping his already badly-damaged book close. Following the sound, he ascended the stairs with a quickness, only to be greeted by a devilishly grinning Jim Moriarty and a cloud of powdered glass and gun smoke. A small sigh escaped his throat and he pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning.
“Do I even want to know?”
“Ah, well. I was bored,” came the expected answer in the usual Irish drawl, his eyes glinting a bit. His callous indifference was clearly noticeable, and before Sebastian could even inquire, he already gave the information himself. “Sooo I shot your scope. I was curious, and look how it shimmers!”
The last few words were lost on the sniper, who had to take a deep breath to steady himself. “You shot my scope. My sniper scope. The one that was one my bed, the one I'm going to need in a few hours because I have a team to train,” he said flatly, his eyes flashing a menacing blue.
“Yes, that would be the one. You have a very pretty rifle as well,” Jim said in his maddening sing-song voice, his eyes wandering to the bed. A longing look appeared in his eyes when he saw the shiny black stock of the L115A3, gleaming in the light.
Sebastian pushed past Jim with an annoyed grunt, not really caring that he was being rude by shoving him away with his shoulder. He quickly secured the rifle away in its case and rummaged through the other case to find another scope. It twirled around in his fingers as he checked it, looking through it before he decided it had to do. Using it to point at the criminal, he tried to sound and look as authoritative as he could muster, straightening himself up to his full six foot.
“You are going to get me another scope,” he stated, staring Jim down. The Irishman just smirked and raised his eyebrows, as if he was asking Sebastian how he was going to make Jim do that. The sniper disregarded that for now, wanting to make a few more points. “You stay away from my weaponry, especially when I'm going to need it in few hours. Even better, just stay away from my stuff in general. And last but not least; if you're being bored again, do me, yourself, and the rest of the world a favour and go have a wank.”
And with that he turned around, placing the scope in the case with the rifle, only to face Jim again when he heard him chuckle.
“But darling, that is so dull.”
“Well, then you're not doing it good enough.”
“I beg your pardon?” Jim looked utterly scandalized that Sebastian had the guts to tell Jim something like that, and if the sniper haven't been utterly annoyed, he would have found it funny to see him like that.
“You heard me. If you think having a wank is dull, you're not doing a good job of it.”
“I know how to have a wank, thank you very much,” Jim hissed, shoving his hands in his pockets, his nose scrunching up in irritation. “I just think it's not all that special.”
Sebastian smirked, glad to see that he could get on Jim's nerves in return. “Well, if it's not all that special, you're not doing a good job with pleasuring yourself. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a team to train.” He grabbed the rifle-case before his boss could protest and dashed out of the room, the smirk still set on his face when he heard Jim call after him.
“I know how to have a wank, Moran!”
“Then go have one!” he roared back and slammed the door close behind him, rolling his eyes as he made his way to the car. That was a lovely conversation to have on a general Thursday afternoon, and the strange thing was that it didn't even surprise him any more. Living together with Jim had really gotten him used to the strangest behaviour and mannerisms, and he wondered if there was anything about the criminal that could truly surprise him. There probably was, and it was probably more than he ever accounted for.
*****
The training luckily went without too much trouble. There were seven of them now, himself included, and his team was good. Not as good as he was, but still, he had assembled quite some sharp-shooters that weren't completely idiotic. They were all in top-condition, had a good aim, obeyed his every order, and were willing to take his advice.
Sebastian had checked for remaining bullets in the warehouse they used as a shooting range, before he joined the rest of them to clean his rifle. As always there was a lot of boasting and chatter about booze, women and gambling between the others; it reminded him of his days in the army. And as always, there were two of them sitting a bit aloof, cleaning their rifle in silence. Sebastian didn't care about their reasons for doing so, and preferred their silence over the other's boasting and seated himself opposite of them. Holmberg didn't even react to Sebastian sitting down, and Rogers only shifted her grey eyes to look up at him before she continued with her job. It didn't matter to him, he just sat down and did his job, his eyes sliding over the gun that was being hold opposite of him. His head tilted a bit and he frowned now he saw it up close, his eyes squinting at the sight.
“Rogers, since when do you shoot an M24?”
The woman stilled in her motions, hands resting on the barrel as she looked back at him with a small grin. “I needed a new one, sir. My old one was.. obsolete. It's the A2-model. I'm used to Remington, and I liked this one.”
“Fair enough.” Sebastian hummed, his gaze sliding over the rifle, examining it. He didn't really need to look what he was doing while cleaning. He had done it often enough, he could probably do it blindfolded. His hands continued to brush the barrel clean as she told him about the improvements and the specifications, asking her some interested questions. He never minded talking about rifles with someone who had some knowledge about it. And she wasn't too bad. She was a good shooter. And tall, athletic, dark blonde hair that was always in some sort of a messy ponytail. The incoming text disturbed his conversation and his thoughts, and he pulled out his phone with a muttered apology.
I'm sure her weaponry is very impressive, but I need your assistance. JMx
A frown appeared on his features, and he wondered for a minute how the hell the criminal could have known that. But still, he shouldn't be too surprised. This was Jim Moriarty, after all. The Irishman probably had the building bugged.
With what? SM
I'll fill you in when you get here. JMx
When Jim didn't want to tell, he wouldn't tell, so Sebastian gave up on asking. His curiosity was fuelled, though, and he wondered what it could be that Jim needed his assistance. Most of the time Jim only asked his advice regarding sniping jobs. The man was way too proud to admit he needed help in any other sort of matter.
I'll clean my rifle and I'll be on my way. SM
Sebastian didn't need much time to finish that job. He had been slowed down because of his conversation, but now it was only a matter of minutes before he was done, snapping his rifle-case close and instructing the team on how to leave the building behind.
During the ride home he kept wondering what it could be. He knew his thinking was in vain, there was no way he could ever figure out Jim Moriarty. Still, the man continued to trigger him. Not always in the right way, mind you. But there was something about him that kept him interesting. Probably because he wouldn't be able to figure him out, the criminal kept surprising him. It would most likely be another surprise, and hopefully, it would be a nice one.