Chapter Text
Black Note didn’t expect to don his mask again for some time, for several reasons. Reason One: the identity of Endo Gall required constant availability; Reason Two: everyone thought Black Note was (a) dead and (b) a murderous villain and they would panic if they learned he was still out and about, and finally; Reason Three: Honoria had caught onto his political ruse on day one. No doubt if he stepped one toe out of line, she and her team would use the Black Note as blackmail, and send him along to the darkest cell they could find. She had said as much, and he absolutely believed her. He had every intention of tucking his weapons and mask away—he couldn’t bear to part with them entirely—and live in his father’s shoes both day and night.
Then Lavender Jack – Mimley Bastrop, though Black Note quietly thought that the alias was closer to his true identity, just as it was for Black Note – popped into his window.
“Good Lord!” Black Note gasped with a start at suddenly seeing a purple devil mask nearly within arm’s reach. He instinctually upheld his Endo Gall persona, in voice and manner of speaking. It wouldn’t be a good disguise if he broke character whenever startled.
Jack paused from where he was half-climbed into Black Note’s office, one lavender glove and boot each still propped on the edges of the window. The metal eyes of his mask had gone wide and he looked for all the world like a teenager caught sneaking back into their parents’ house.
“…That is truly uncanny,” Lavender Jack said after staring at Black Note for a beat of astonishment. “You sound, talk, by my pointed ears, you even move like ol’ Gall. For a second I had a mini-heart attack at the panicked thought that I’d been mistaken and just waltzed into the office of one of my most hateful enemies, which would have been tremendously awkward, you know. My mind’s still not sure, actually, except I never doubt dear Honoria when she’s confident about something.”
Black Note fumed at how Jack needed to talk so much.
“What are you doing?” Black Note hissed, rising to his feet and storming across the room to his office door, locking it firmly. “Mrs. Feng is right outside! If we are seen together, you will be attacked on sight or I could be under suspicion of conspiring with you – or both.”
Jack slipped his long legs the rest of the way through the window, easily holding his weight with his hands on the sill and then leaning back against it and stretching himself out languidly.
“Oh,” he sighed, his tone wistful and dreamy. “But doesn’t the risk and the thrill of getting caught make it all the more romantic?”
“I am trying to avoid suspicion!” Black Note seethed, ignoring Jack’s amorous behavior. He dropped his imitation of Gall’s voice entirely, his own tone lower, though it was not as ominously deep as when he was wearing his mask. “I am already facing skepticism for my sudden change in policies and I have to drudge up all of Gall’s interviews and records to make sure I don’t misremember something, on top of all the paperwork I’m having to do. You wish to topple my work?”
“Well,” Jack mused, rubbing one of his clawlike gloved fingers against his chin. “I’ve done it before.”
Black Note angrily pointed a long finger towards the window. “Leave.”
“Come now, old boy,” Jack wheedled, and Black Note could hear the smile in the voice. The smirk of the mask was an absolutely perfect expression of his personality. Whoever had designed it – whether Bastrop himself or one of his companions – had known exactly what they’d been doing. “Not even going to offer me a drink?”
“I have work to do,” Black Note growled, clenching his fists.
“I’ll say.” Jack looked at the many papers laid out on the Note’s desk and tilted his head in a way that implied raised eyebrows. “I know for a fact that you’ve worked all night, every night, for the past two weeks. Don’t you do anything for fun, my tall, dark fellow?”
“I have too much to do,” Black Note said curtly, and paced back to his desk, fists clenched. He sat down with the strong implied attitude of getting back to work, invasive vigilante or no. But he felt defensive despite himself. “And I do have fun. I write music.”
Lavender Jack’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Your compositions involved destroying buildings and political terrorism.”
“Your recreation involves hunting down rich criminals in an over-bloated sense of heroism,” Black Note replied dryly, flourishing his signature on a document he’d spent an hour combing through. “At least myvigilantism included something that people actually consider a hobby.”
“Touché, old chap.”
Black Note, since he was facing away from Jack, allowed a small smile.
“Not about the murder bits, though.”
The smile dropped, and Black Note let out a carefully controlled breath through his nose. “I have moved on from dismissing those sacrifices. Hence why I am here, doing things the peaceful way, with paperwork and discussions instead of murder.”
“Jolly good on you!” Jack cheered, and then Black Note felt a thump on his seat and instinctually swung his head around. Jack was leaning against the back of his chair, hands on his cheeks and arms propped up on its rim, grinning down at him with his funny pointed nose. “And who would’ve thought? The big, bad Black Note, condemned to pencil pushing. I’d say that’s at least some punishment for said crimes.” He tutted and shook his head. “Mad respect, good fellow. I couldn’t do it.”
Black Note scowled and forced himself to turn back around and stare at the papers, but he couldn’t focus on the words. “Just make your threats and galivant your way back into the night so I can get back to work.”
“Hm, I do love a good galivant.” Jack shifted again and Black Note consciously had to force himself not to swing around again to watch him. Jack was mischievous but not nefarious – not unprovoked, not against the defenseless.
Then Jack thumped himself down on Black Note’s desk with all the cheek of a teenage girl, crossing his long legs and craning down his head to look at Black Note closely, who straightened up and leaned away.
“But I wouldn’t overwrite the previous work of dear Honoria,” Jack said, in a slightly more serious tone. He tilted his head and hummed. “No.”
Black Note clenched his fists. Jack spewed mockery in almost every word he produced, but now Black Note didn’t get the satisfaction of punching him for it. “Then what are you here for?”
Jack slipped a clawed pair of fingers into his jacket and Black Note had the heart-jumping thought that he was drawing a pistol, though he knew it wasn’t the man’s style. Instead, Jack drew out a neat little lavender-colored card.
He flicked out the slip of paper to Black Note. “An invitation.”
“For what?” Black Note said, the words slipping out in disbelief. He snagged the paper and glanced at the neat, curved handwriting that wrote out a time and an address he knew well. The Margrave Building. He raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Don’t tell me you’re inviting me to a party. If I have to go to one more social function, I’ll strangle someone.”
Jack threw his head back and laughed, kicking his legs like a delighted child. “Not your scene, hm? I find most of them rather stuffy as well.”
Being as rich as he was, Mimley Bastrop had undoubtedly been to dozens.
Jack’s laughter died down as he shook his head in amusement. “No, no, nothing of the sort. This is a gathering of like minds.” Jack leaned forward again and tapped a finger at the side of his pointed nose. “My Lavender League, as we call ourselves.”
Black Note gave his best unimpressed expression.
Jack shrugged. “It stuck. I’ve grown rather fond of it.”
“And heaven forbid anyone try to persuade you out of anything,” Black Note said with narrowed eyes.
Jack merely shrugged again.
Black Note looked back down at the invitation again. It gave the critical information for him to be there, but absolutely no details on what it was or who would be attending. “Why would you want me there? I’m not part of your ‘league.’”
Jack threw out his arms. “You’re a masked crime-fighter, old boy! And all the other masked hooligans will be there.”
“So, Nightjar.” He didn’t bring up Lord Hawthorne, Lilac Jack, who had wandered off into the wilderness and was supposedly content there. Black Note hoped to never see him again.
Jack thumped a hand against his chest. “Us dedicated few must stick together.”
Black Note dropped the invitation onto his desk. “I’m not wasting my time to be your accessory.”
At that, Jack looked somewhat cowed. He dropped his hands and ducked his head. “No, of course not. I don’t call on you lightly, no matter what I make of it. My dear wife has insisted on your help with her next plan.”
Jack was eyeing him there, Black Note could tell. The man obviously had no wish to let Black Note near his closest companion, but Black Note had already tracked them down and seen them as married. Hell, Black Note had needed to reveal himself to rescue Jack from trap as obvious as turkey leg on a string, the turkey leg being Mrs. Maureen Bastrop.
Despite their limited interaction, Black Note had picked up that Mrs. Bastrop was a strategist of another caliber, and the real brains behind Lavender Jack’s mask. And unlike Jack, who was prone to making impulsive, emotional decisions, Black Note had no doubt that she wouldn’t call for him unless it was a cold, logical necessity.
Black Note looked down at the letter thoughtfully. Just because that woman needed him, didn’t mean it was necessary for him. He steepled his fingers before his mouth.
Jack cocked his head at him. “Hm, yes, very intimidating and villainous-looking.” He crossed his legs and then propped his elbows on the top one, steepling his fingers before his own grin to mockingly mirror Black Note’s. “Am I doing it right?”
Black Note didn’t acknowledge it. He dropped his hands onto the arms of his chair. “…Will Honoria be there?”
“Oh-ho,” Lavender Jack said, putting his own hands on his hips and straightening. “Is that the dealbreaker? I see how it is. No love for poor old Jack.”
Black Note gave him another, drier look.
Jack huffed. “Yes, she’ll be there.” Jack suddenly looked directly at Black Note and spoke in dead seriousness. “Hurt her again and I will become your enemy again, no matter what government you create.”
Black Note felt a horrible twisting feeling in his gut like he’d swallowed a snake. “You…You aren’t…” He wasn’t sure how to word it.
Jack snorted. “No, you lovesick loon. Though I’m certain Ducky wouldn’t mind letting her in, my preference is among our own kind.”
Black Note frankly didn’t want to have that conversation with Jack.
Jack thumped his chest again. “Honoria is the beating heart of our merry little band. So you better watch your step around her, or I won’t be the only one backing her up.”
Black Note looked away. “I never intended to hurt her.”
Jack snorted. “You would’ve preferred not to, you mean. You intended to lie to her. You intended to destroy the government she was protecting. You intended to carry out your plans that would endanger her. You might have not wanted to hurt her directly, but you choose your ‘great composition’ over her, and she deserves better than that.”
Black Note let out a slow breath. Jack was right. She did. Black Note could argue that he couldn’t put her above his mission, his calling, but that tune fell flat when his plans had been pointless all along.
“You do not need to worry,” Black Note said softly. “I know I can never regain the same relationship we had before. Not after what I’ve done.”
Honoria was worthy of so much more. But it did not stop him from admiring her.
“That is entirely up to her,” Jack said with decision, flicking a bit of dust off his glove. Then he braced his hands on the desk and swung out his legs in a quick kick, bouncing to his feet. “Well! I’ve said all I can say to persuade you. I suppose I ought to ‘galivant’ off and leave you to your important paperwork.”
“Finally,” muttered Black Note, but he did watch Jack out of the corner of his eye as the man headed for his window.
Jack gave a flourishing wave and hopped up onto the windowsill. “Toodle-pip!” he called, and then leapt off with the eager grace of a professional diver. His purple tailcoat vanished into the dark.
Black Note let his exhaustion slacken his shoulders. He looked at the lingering lavender letter laid innocently upon his desk.
He gave a great heavy sigh.