"You can call me boss." He grins, slapping Arthur on the shoulder before gesturing him further into the room and over to the sitting chairs where he plops down casually. "Well, not really. I'd rather that not become common knowledge. We're not exactly...law abiding."
"Surely you're not insinuating that the CIA does anything illegal?" It was sanctioned killing, as far as he was concerned.
There's a shrug and an offer for Arthur to sit down beside him. "Information dealing, mostly. People pay us to find information. We find it and give it to him. We're delivery guys." And his lips twitch, "Delivery guys that don't get caught."
Arthur can't help the grin that spreads over his face. "Information is my specialty. I might need a little help getting up to speed with the technology here, but I'm a quick study."
Grin widening, he ducks his head. "And I never get caught, boss."
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Arthur's not planning to show all of his cards right away. FDR doesn't need to know that Arthur's a criminal.
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There's a shrug and an offer for Arthur to sit down beside him. "Information dealing, mostly. People pay us to find information. We find it and give it to him. We're delivery guys." And his lips twitch, "Delivery guys that don't get caught."
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Grin widening, he ducks his head. "And I never get caught, boss."