isaysimplewords | MM: get what you see

She's relaxed enough to add, without completely thinking through the consequences, "And Violet Chandler set her sights too low."

. . . Huh.

"That's not something many people would say."

Maybe James has political aspirations of her own? He can't be sure what year she's from, but whenever it is, it would be more plausible for her to enter politics than it would have been for his mother at the same age.

Lightly: "Not many people are me."

She's used to a Cal who knows all her tells; she expects him to see she's hiding something, and that shows.

Cal can see it. He has a talent, from years in politics, for reading a certain sort of person, and right now James is most definitely being that sort of person.

"I'm sure that's true," he says. "So fill me in."

"That's my Cal," she murmurs, with a wry twist of a smile.

As though it explains everything that needs explaining: "James Moriarty."

Cal thinks of Sherlock, and how thoroughly he had taken on that identity. He frowns slightly.

"So I'm guessing you don't stick to organizing the charity balls."

"Not really, no."

She shrugs.

"We've talked about it."

Cal sips from his coffee mug, cradling it carefully in his hands when he lowers it again.

"And what do those conversations sound like?"

"Full of compromises."

Yeah. He should have figured that.

"That sounds more like it," he murmurs.

(In his family, the definition of "compromise" was "Cal keeps his mouth shut and likes it.")

She frowns a question at him.

Apparently that wasn't the expected reaction.

It clicks a heartbeat later. "Not that kind of compromise, Cal. The kind where I actually listen to you."

Dry:

"I don't think I've heard of that kind before."

"Am I going to have to go through the whole first year of our marriage all over again? Hi, I'm James Moriarty. I run every major criminal organization with a branch in New York State. That's not as funny as you think it is. Yes, you can call me Jamie, I won't shoot you for it. No, I've never shot anybody else for it. Yes, if you have a problem with what I'm doing, you can talk to me." Beat. "And I don't care how many affairs you have as long as you tell me their names. I like to know what you're up to."

". . . what?"

Hey, that is a lot of information all at once, and she dropped the biggest bomb first.

"Which parts do you need me to repeat?"

". . . Criminal organization?"

Which, okay, Moriarty, identity, etc, but that had not been the direction Cal was thinking in. He'd been thinking more along the lines of corrupt politician. Why else would she marry a Chandler?

"...What were you thinking before?"

Cal sips his coffee automatically, giving himself a few extra seconds to find his words again.

"Marrying into the Chandler family is usually a political power move. Maybe a social one." Deborah hadn't been interested in politics, but she'd certainly enjoyed the social cache that came with being his wife. And as they've established, James is not Deborah.

"The social part is the main downside. Very high-maintenance and boring as hell."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

A few minutes ago, that agreement would have been much more emphatic, but now his heart just isn't in it.

"What's wrong?"

"What does he think about being married to the mob?"

Does he think at all? Because Cal didn't start thinking until he was thirty-seven, and judging from James's age, it'll be a while before his double gets there.

"He used to think it was funny. That lasted about two months."

Until the first time he was confronted with the fact that his wife had just ordered a hit on somebody.

Cal nods, sips his coffee.

Doesn't say anything.

"What happened to your wedding ring?"

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