Training Day: Fos-sur-Mer
Sep. 20th, 2019 11:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logs Gabe gets to be arm candy in the next stage of their tour.
Fos-sur-Mer had two things going for it. Six miles of glorious beachfront that drew vacationers from all over France. And a heavy industry and gas refinery that would have made New Jersey proud. The combination made sure that plenty of foreigners came through the city, and Gabe and Kevin attracted no attention. Once they'd located their surprisingly high end hotel, Kevin had surprised him with a ring.
"Stop making jokes." Kevin said as he tossed a gold wedding band to Gabe before slipping a matching one on his ring finger.
"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" Gabriel inspected the ring briefly, turning it over in his fingers. "All this time, I knew you were grooming me for something, but I never would have expected it to be this." He slipped it on, his forehead wrinkling slightly at the sight of it on his hand.
"You laugh, but institutional homophobia aside, the Agency would have loved same sex marriage back in the day. It would have made so many covers so much easier." Kevin said. "But in this case, it's time for you to get a proper suit."
"I don't think you can set institutional homophobia aside. That's kind of how it works." Gabriel crossed his arms. "I own suits," he said, a little defensively. "Nice suits."
"You have suits made by corporations, not people. " Kevin said, a slight smile on his face. "And no husband of mine is going to wear an off the rack suit."
"I—" Gabriel frowned slightly. "How am I not allowed to make jokes when you say things like that? This is veering into sugar daddy territory." And, at the corners of his mind, raising some latent father issues, obviously, but Gabriel tried to keep those quiet.
"Occasionally, this job has perks. It's important to remember on that days when it has you crawling waist deep through a Libyan sewer at noon." Kevin added an expensive watch to his own outfit, modifying his skin to reflect the kind of deep tans Gabe had seen over and over on people with too much money and time on their hands on the Mediterranean coast. "Your next contact is a tailor. His shop is right near the marina."
"I don't really..." Gabriel turned away from Kevin, rifling through his bag for his cigarettes. He couldn't locate the source of his discomfort, exactly, but as he shuffled his belongings around, he definitely felt it. "No tailor is going to believe I can afford a bespoke suit," he finally said after a few seconds.
Then he looked up, realization dawning on him. "Oh. So it is a sugar daddy vibe." He shifted his gaze toward a mirror, scanning his outfit. "I guess I need to change into something that says 'I'm with him for his Hamptons house, and he's with me for my body.'"
"Nothing like a spouse with a 30 year age difference to make you feel young again." Kevin paused as he finished his transformation. It was still Kevin, but one clearly in his early sixties. There were slightly shiny patches beside his eyes and chin hinting at cosmetic work and when he smiled, his teeth were very white and obviously capped against the dark tan of his face. The silver slicked back hair was too even in tone to be completely natural. For the final touch, on the opposite hand to the wedding band, he added an ornate pinky ring.
"I know. I want to punch me too."
"Which isn't really the vibe we're going for." Gabriel stared at Kevin for a few seconds, still feeling a bit uneasy. There was something there that reminded him of the johns who leered at him, a lifetime and a universe ago. "Okay, I get the idea," he said, turning back toward bag. "Not sure if I packed shorts that are short enough for this, but we'll find a way to make it work. Can't decide if we're going for Euro resort chic or Provincetown daytime. If I'm a recent acquisition of yours, maybe we haven't fully upgraded my wardrobe yet."
"There are two ways of being invisible without having powers. One is to be so bland that people's eyes skip over you. The second is to be a joke that they'll automatically fill in the punchlines for without asking questions. I'd say go for 'trying too hard'. Your first taste of the high life, that sort of thing. People will make up our cover for us, without us needing to do or prove anything." Kevin poured himself a scotch as Gabe kept searching. "I'd love to send money to who ever started this whole 'hipster' movement. A plaid shirt, big beard and a stupid oversized waxed mustache is early Christmas for spies not wanting people to remember your actual features."
Gabriel made a vague noise of assent that suggested he was only half-listening. "I guess I can push the boundaries of taste, and it'll be good if things don't totally match. Hold on." In a split-second, Gabriel had changed into an all-white look, with reasonably short white denim shorts, a linen shirt with too many buttons opened at the collar and a pair of white loafers. "God, what a costume." He twisted the wedding band onto his finger. "But I've never been opposed to a little role play."
"All you need is a gaudy gold chain." Kevin said as he waved him to follow. "Now, Georges is a particularly useful asset, because he runs his own little network. The interesting thing about this town is that it has one of the best long term marinas on the Med and the airport is designed for smaller craft with a lot of storage hangers. Lots of rich yacht owners use this as their starting point for their long cruises. One of the things they do is send materials to Georges business for last minute tailoring of all their sailing wear before heading out."
Gabriel made a mental note of the fact that the Mediterranean was apparently never referred to by its full name. "So he knows everyone's comings or goings. Or at least, the wealthy types. The Russian tycoons and the Saudi oil barons and the shady underworld types?"
"Gets better. His network is based out of their household staff. When they ship him the clothes, they send what intel they have. Mostly just coming and goings, but occasionally there's a real gem like secret meetings or details about deals being made." They crossed over the sun drenched street, walking along the boardwalk by the shore. "So, we'll get you measured for a suit. When he asks about what colour you'd like to accent it with, request Garibaldi Blue. It was popular in the 80s but pretty much discontinued now. If he tells you it's unavailable, it means we can't activate his network. If he says he'll see if anyone has it in stock, it means he's up and running. Intel gets shipped with orders you place."
"Garibaldi Blue?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. It sounded as fake as their cover, but it's not like he was going to question it. "Got it." His eyes drifted to the shoreline. It was mid-afternoon, and the beaches were getting mildly crowded. He had a sudden urge to ditch Kevin and head for the water. These places they were traveling were all beautiful in their way, especially to someone with as little experience outside New York as he did.
When he struck it rich, he decided, he'd have to come back. "Are we shipping intel?" He said, turning his focus back to Kevin. "Or just testing the waters?"
"Just testing to see if he's available to reactivate. If he is, the address you use for him to ship the suit to will be his contact for you. Might as well use the address at The Plaza. It won't raise any questions." Kevin confirmed as they started to get close. "Once a month or so, you'll place an order and he'll send the intel along. Usually a chip or drive sewn into a seam. And you'll swing by a couple times a year when you're onsite. Just another regular customer."
“This seems like pricy espionage, and I’m as of yet unclear as to whether I’m getting fancy new clothes out of this bargain, sweetums.”
"Relax muffin. You'll get your suit shipped to you. As for pricey, this is chump change. Now," He paused at the door of the tailor's shop. "It's time to get ridiculous."
Fos-sur-Mer had two things going for it. Six miles of glorious beachfront that drew vacationers from all over France. And a heavy industry and gas refinery that would have made New Jersey proud. The combination made sure that plenty of foreigners came through the city, and Gabe and Kevin attracted no attention. Once they'd located their surprisingly high end hotel, Kevin had surprised him with a ring.
"Stop making jokes." Kevin said as he tossed a gold wedding band to Gabe before slipping a matching one on his ring finger.
"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" Gabriel inspected the ring briefly, turning it over in his fingers. "All this time, I knew you were grooming me for something, but I never would have expected it to be this." He slipped it on, his forehead wrinkling slightly at the sight of it on his hand.
"You laugh, but institutional homophobia aside, the Agency would have loved same sex marriage back in the day. It would have made so many covers so much easier." Kevin said. "But in this case, it's time for you to get a proper suit."
"I don't think you can set institutional homophobia aside. That's kind of how it works." Gabriel crossed his arms. "I own suits," he said, a little defensively. "Nice suits."
"You have suits made by corporations, not people. " Kevin said, a slight smile on his face. "And no husband of mine is going to wear an off the rack suit."
"I—" Gabriel frowned slightly. "How am I not allowed to make jokes when you say things like that? This is veering into sugar daddy territory." And, at the corners of his mind, raising some latent father issues, obviously, but Gabriel tried to keep those quiet.
"Occasionally, this job has perks. It's important to remember on that days when it has you crawling waist deep through a Libyan sewer at noon." Kevin added an expensive watch to his own outfit, modifying his skin to reflect the kind of deep tans Gabe had seen over and over on people with too much money and time on their hands on the Mediterranean coast. "Your next contact is a tailor. His shop is right near the marina."
"I don't really..." Gabriel turned away from Kevin, rifling through his bag for his cigarettes. He couldn't locate the source of his discomfort, exactly, but as he shuffled his belongings around, he definitely felt it. "No tailor is going to believe I can afford a bespoke suit," he finally said after a few seconds.
Then he looked up, realization dawning on him. "Oh. So it is a sugar daddy vibe." He shifted his gaze toward a mirror, scanning his outfit. "I guess I need to change into something that says 'I'm with him for his Hamptons house, and he's with me for my body.'"
"Nothing like a spouse with a 30 year age difference to make you feel young again." Kevin paused as he finished his transformation. It was still Kevin, but one clearly in his early sixties. There were slightly shiny patches beside his eyes and chin hinting at cosmetic work and when he smiled, his teeth were very white and obviously capped against the dark tan of his face. The silver slicked back hair was too even in tone to be completely natural. For the final touch, on the opposite hand to the wedding band, he added an ornate pinky ring.
"I know. I want to punch me too."
"Which isn't really the vibe we're going for." Gabriel stared at Kevin for a few seconds, still feeling a bit uneasy. There was something there that reminded him of the johns who leered at him, a lifetime and a universe ago. "Okay, I get the idea," he said, turning back toward bag. "Not sure if I packed shorts that are short enough for this, but we'll find a way to make it work. Can't decide if we're going for Euro resort chic or Provincetown daytime. If I'm a recent acquisition of yours, maybe we haven't fully upgraded my wardrobe yet."
"There are two ways of being invisible without having powers. One is to be so bland that people's eyes skip over you. The second is to be a joke that they'll automatically fill in the punchlines for without asking questions. I'd say go for 'trying too hard'. Your first taste of the high life, that sort of thing. People will make up our cover for us, without us needing to do or prove anything." Kevin poured himself a scotch as Gabe kept searching. "I'd love to send money to who ever started this whole 'hipster' movement. A plaid shirt, big beard and a stupid oversized waxed mustache is early Christmas for spies not wanting people to remember your actual features."
Gabriel made a vague noise of assent that suggested he was only half-listening. "I guess I can push the boundaries of taste, and it'll be good if things don't totally match. Hold on." In a split-second, Gabriel had changed into an all-white look, with reasonably short white denim shorts, a linen shirt with too many buttons opened at the collar and a pair of white loafers. "God, what a costume." He twisted the wedding band onto his finger. "But I've never been opposed to a little role play."
"All you need is a gaudy gold chain." Kevin said as he waved him to follow. "Now, Georges is a particularly useful asset, because he runs his own little network. The interesting thing about this town is that it has one of the best long term marinas on the Med and the airport is designed for smaller craft with a lot of storage hangers. Lots of rich yacht owners use this as their starting point for their long cruises. One of the things they do is send materials to Georges business for last minute tailoring of all their sailing wear before heading out."
Gabriel made a mental note of the fact that the Mediterranean was apparently never referred to by its full name. "So he knows everyone's comings or goings. Or at least, the wealthy types. The Russian tycoons and the Saudi oil barons and the shady underworld types?"
"Gets better. His network is based out of their household staff. When they ship him the clothes, they send what intel they have. Mostly just coming and goings, but occasionally there's a real gem like secret meetings or details about deals being made." They crossed over the sun drenched street, walking along the boardwalk by the shore. "So, we'll get you measured for a suit. When he asks about what colour you'd like to accent it with, request Garibaldi Blue. It was popular in the 80s but pretty much discontinued now. If he tells you it's unavailable, it means we can't activate his network. If he says he'll see if anyone has it in stock, it means he's up and running. Intel gets shipped with orders you place."
"Garibaldi Blue?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. It sounded as fake as their cover, but it's not like he was going to question it. "Got it." His eyes drifted to the shoreline. It was mid-afternoon, and the beaches were getting mildly crowded. He had a sudden urge to ditch Kevin and head for the water. These places they were traveling were all beautiful in their way, especially to someone with as little experience outside New York as he did.
When he struck it rich, he decided, he'd have to come back. "Are we shipping intel?" He said, turning his focus back to Kevin. "Or just testing the waters?"
"Just testing to see if he's available to reactivate. If he is, the address you use for him to ship the suit to will be his contact for you. Might as well use the address at The Plaza. It won't raise any questions." Kevin confirmed as they started to get close. "Once a month or so, you'll place an order and he'll send the intel along. Usually a chip or drive sewn into a seam. And you'll swing by a couple times a year when you're onsite. Just another regular customer."
“This seems like pricy espionage, and I’m as of yet unclear as to whether I’m getting fancy new clothes out of this bargain, sweetums.”
"Relax muffin. You'll get your suit shipped to you. As for pricey, this is chump change. Now," He paused at the door of the tailor's shop. "It's time to get ridiculous."
