This is an ongoing Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

Table of Contents here

Fade in from commercial to see Ana and Eliot facing the rest of the team and one small Californian Lord.

“Lord Lorcan.” Ana’s eyes trail over the rest of the team. “I see you brought… friends.” Behind her, Eliot sighs. He shifts his weight, just a bit; Parker’s eyes shoot to him. The rest of the team does a better job of staying nonchalant, but Parker’s eyes are on the collar.

It’s only a moment before Hardison’s eyes follow hers, and it’s Sophie and Nate looking at Ana, and with effort, at that.

Lord Lorcan clears his throat, which doesn’t really help matters. Ana’s eyes don’t move off of him, although her stance is every bit as combat-ready as Eliot’s. Sohpie visibly jumps; Nate’s twitch is a little less obvious.

“He’s wearing a collar.” Parker’s whisper really isn’t a whisper.

“Company,” Lorcan agrees, talking rather hurriedly over Parker. “Yes. This is Charlotte Prentiss, Duchess of Hanover. The others are her entourage; she’s in the country visiting and thought she’d like to meet some of my friends.”

“And you brought her here?” Ana makes an expression which bears some resemblance to a smile, although her bow is entirely genuine. “Duchess. It is a pleasure to meet you, your ladyship. I do hope Lorcan’s only said good things about me.”

“I wouldn’t dare do anything but, you know that.” The little lordling is beginning to babble.

Sophie/Charlotte simply smiles, and returns Ana’s bow with a little head-nod of her own. “Your Ladyship, I’ve heard lovely things about you.” Her accent is thick, almost – almost – over the top. “And Lord Lorcan did say you were a lovely young woman.”

“I’m sure he did.” Ana’s eyes rake over the group. “Was that before or after he offered to help you steal back your friend? Lorcan, you’ve always been a lousy liar and your tells are far too obvious.”

“Oh, fuck this, man.” Hardison brings out a pistol from his computer bag. Everything seems to explode at once.

“Hardison, no!”

Alec levels the gun at Ana; her eyes narrow. Eliot’s shout comes out far too slowly.

Ana moves.

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