ArchivedLogs:Thief, Meet Lawyer

Thief, Meet Lawyer
Dramatis Personae Jennifer, Remy
In Absentia	2013-07-29 Drinks and conversations, ahoy!
Location <NYC> Green Carnation Pub - Gramercy Park
The Green Carnation Pub is a pub that has one very special rule that differentiates it from its competition - and, indeed, from any other bar of any sort. At this pub, drinks cost you half price... if, and only if, you buy them for someone else at the bar who you didn't come with. As such, the drinks at the Green Carnation Pub tend to be more expensive than they are everywhere else, but you get more free booze. Their food is quite tasty, for a pub, if not exactly haute cuisine. The interior is decorated with light colored wood, and a long, polished wooden bar table lined with stools. There are booths and tables for guests who would rather not sit or eat at the bar, as well as couches to rest on, but all are arranged to give as wide as possible a view of the rest of the restaurant. In many ways, the Green Carnation Pub is one of the least private bars you are ever likely to visit. Some might argue for the tradition of imbibing alcohol only on the night before the weekend. Jennifer Walters happens to be among the few who argue against it. Calendar days do not discourage her from prowling the city nightlife, especially if there is no vital agenda awaiting her the next day. A couple of hours have already been spent in the Green Carnation, the trade of drinks ensuring a constant rotation of pleasant company and (perhaps more importantly) a stream of booze. Having arrived on her beloved bicyclic vehicle, the redhead is wearing tight pale jeans, a couple of sturdy knee-high leather boots and a navy T-shirt that depicts a dinosaur in a three-piece suit arranging papers, accompanied by a few stylistic ink blotches. Her leather jacket follows her on the backs of chairs she chooses to occupy. And right now, she picks out another random stranger to claim a seat next to. Dropping to seat herself beside Remy, she crudely nudges him in the elbow. "So, what's /your/ poison? I'm buyin'." Remy looks the woman up and down with an appreciative eye. The Cajun himself has only been here once before, but liked the atmosphere and returned. As for drinking at the start of the week? To be honest Remy isn't even sure what day it is since his work does not have him adhering to a 9-5 schedule. He smiles a bit looking her in those gorgious green eyes and saying "Actully Ah was jus' considering a Vesper Martini. What yah say Ah buy yah one back?" Those bright green eyes are sparkling with enthusiasm, while her lips carve a smug grin on her face. Jennifer replies coyly, "I'd say quid pro quo." Eyeing the bar, she muses softly, "Personally, I think I feel like another round of beer." A firm but not too obnoxious slam against the table with a hand may as well mimic what follows a decision being made in court, as well. Unfortunately, Jennifer lacks the wooden hammer for the occasion. "I'll go get us the drinks." A promise is a promise. The redhead proves herself quick and resourceful; it's not too long before a Vesper Martini and a plain mug of beer populates the table Remy was seated at. Once she reclaims her seat, she eyes the man curiously. "Name's Jennifer. And what's your story?" Remy grins slightly, taking a small sip of his drink and smiling at her with amusement, "Oh dat's gonna take more den one drink chere, but de short version is Ah moved 'ere about t'ree mont's ago from de Big Easy, jus' been takin' time ta enjoy all dis city 'as ta offer 'fore maybe Ah move on again. An' yah?" his eyes are still behind dark sunglasses even in the dusk like atmosphere of the bar. The fiery-haired woman may not share the same origin, but she does make a fairly uncanny representation of the relevant accent when she offers a coy drawl, "Nu Awlans, huh?" Or it may have been terrible, depending on one's point of view. One thing for sure, it at least entertains Jennifer herself. The mug of beer before her is definitely not her first drink tonight. Her own story rolls off the tongue rather easily; more easily than Cajun accent, that's for sure. "I've been around." An amused chortle marks her realisation of the double meaning of the statement. A little sigh precedes the continuation of the story: "Let's see. I grew up here in New York, in the Bronx. I used to travel a lot, helping people out while trying to avoid any trouble. But trouble always has a knack of finding me. If you ever bothered to watch the news, you probably know who I am-- Albeit the media has a less flattering name than 'Jennifer'." After taking the first swig from the mug, she adds thoughtfully, "Then again, I kind of like 'She-Hulk'." Remy might be surprised that she just blurts that last little tidbit out, and lowers hs sunglasses down his nose revealing those hellfire like red and black eyes. "Yah don' say chere.." He gives her another appreciative one over with his now unobstructed eyes, tilting his head, "'Tween me yah, an' de fence post, not sure which version is cuter." He says with a grin. Then after a beat, "Try saying it dis way, Naw-Lins." Remy is fired at with the almighty power of the index finger. As the swift motion is executed, her tongue languidly rolls about and she tries again: "/Nawlins/." A crooked, half-sided grin accompanies the attempt. Her hand subsequently lowers to the mug again, although she is yet to take another swig. Her emerald eyes appear to be focussed on Remy's own, now that they've been revealed to some degree. "I try not to parade around as Shulkie, y'know? I'm pretty likely to get fined if I do." As the mug rises off the table, she murmurs, "But it's way more fun than I'm willing to admit." After another healthy swig of intoxicating alcohol, the glass mug is firmly slammed against the wooden surface. "What about yourself? Your powers giving you any trouble?" It may as well be too broad of a question, considering the vast spectrum of 'trouble' that a power might cause, but the meaningful gaze Jennifer fires at the man suggests she is giving him a lot of room to answer that question for a reason. Why ruin a good conversation by probing too much? Remy shrugs slightly, "Ah wear sunglasses when Ah in public, dat take care of most issues," He says even as he takes them off, letting her see his eyes fully now, since she is the only one near by. "Ah'm pretty well in control of de rest of it, 'Hwevah," he smiles, taking a sip of his martini "Ah like dis place to well ta be giin' a full demonstration in 'ere." "You're lucky," she responds in a marginally more sober tone of voice. "Not everyone gets the luxury of just hiding their mutations with a pair of sunglasses, y'know?" Ah, mutations. The quickest path to sobriety. Perhaps that is why Jennifer is quick to empty more of that sizeable mug, before another thunk hits the table. "What would you rather have, invisibility or X-Ray vision?" Immediately, she flashes him a sceptical sort of look. "And don't say X-Ray just because I'm sitting right here, buddy," she warns him, grinning. The Cajun just grins, shaking his head slightly, "Nah not X-Ray vision, besides Ah got somet'ing bettah den lookin' at yah bones right 'ere in front of me, non?" he says playfully finishing his Martini and considering, "Maybe invisibility woul' be nice Ah suppose." He smirks just a little bit, "Dough Ah wouldn' trust me very far wit' dat one eit'er." He adds in a playful tone. Jennifer shrugs lightly, noting, "I think some prefer to dream that X-Ray vision would help you look past through clothes. Personally, I think that's pretty dumb." The notion that invisibility could be used for dirty things only serves to amuse the redhead. "I hope you're thinking what I'm thinking, because I don't want to be the only lewd person sitting at this table." Ponderously dragging her spindly digits against the cool surface of the glass, she adds her own input: "Between those two, I'd probably pick X-Ray vision. But y'know what I always wanted? Teleportation. I mean, how awesome would that be - just zooming past obstacles. It's a power you can use both offensively /and/ defensively." Twirling her wrist in circle-like motion, she mock-complains, "But /no/, instead I have to wreck said obstacles to get through them. Nh. Anyway--" Firmly grabbing the handle of the mug, she slowly brings it up. "So, what do you do for a living? If you don't mind me asking, of course." Remy grins a little bit, "Oh if day was an option, Ah t'ink Ah woulda said fly... Or maybe jus' pass t'rough walls, dat would be cool." He grins a bit and adds, "An' believe me chere, yah are far from de only lewd person at dis table." He signals for refills to be put on his card and considers, "Ah'm an Aqusitions specialist." he says casually. "Ah get t'ings foh very rich people dat are not normally available on de open market." "Why do I get the feeling that's not as simple as it sounds?" Alcohol or not, that court-bound beast within Jennifer is already prowling in a predatory fashion; its hunt is reined in and concealed beneath a coy grin. "Then again, when is /anything/ as simple as it sounds?" Her own rhetoric is promptly answered by herself - Jen rolls her eyes and tisks. "Well, besides the instruction manual for a toaster, maybe." Once she empties the glass halfway, she sets it back down and sets her green-eyed gaze back on the man. Although she lowers her voice, it's not low enough to raise suspicion; lowering one's voice in a bar is a fairly easy task, in the sense that hushed whispers are rarely a necessity. "What sort of things? Are we talking rhino head trophies and pretty shiny things, or are you a... more prestigious equivalent of a pawn shop?" He considers for a moment and then says, "Well may last job was reaquireing a jade Bridal Mask foh a family in Crystalia. dats one of does lil counteries dat appeared aftah we all graduated highschool? Anyway, de new goverment of dat country stole allot of antiques from it's people. De woman was 89 years old. She jus' wanted ta see 'er granddaughter married in de traditional way, wearing de same mask she wore at 'er own wedding." Remy's newly found acquaintance quietly listens to his explanation of his line of work. Her amusement seems to have shifted to thoughtfulness, although her facial expression is largely hidden behind the brim of the beer mug, seeing as she busies herself with emptying the rest of it; the rapid rate at which she imbibes the beer may be noted as admittedly unladylike, but she appears uncaring in that aspect. At least this time, she lowers the mug gracefully onto the table again. "Tell you what," she starts, shifting in her seat to turn sideways and reach for an inside pocket in her black leather jacket. Ultimately, she summons a business card. "I have to admit your profession caught my interest. How about you shoot me a call at your earliest convenience? I think I could use a contact like you, and... well, I'm not sure what your legal department is like, but I think of myself as a pretty good lawyer." Alcohol is slowly finding its way into her mannerisms, making them more muddled and less agile, something that should be readily apparent as she hands the card to Remy. But it doesn't quite manage to make a dent in her suddenly business-like demeanour. Remy smiles a bit, "chere, yah looking at my legal department. My Finacial department, Personel, and Tech support." he says slightly amused. The card seems to vanish the second it touches his hand and he smiles at his own slight of hand before asking "Yah okay ta drive chere?" At the introduction to the various departments of Remy's enterprise, Jennifer smirks. "I had a sneaking suspicion about that," she admits. The redhead then slowly but steadily raises herself to her feet. Indeed, she's at the point where alcohol has made her mannerisms a touch more flamboyant, but her coordination is still far from shot. Her smirk only broadens further. "I have to confess, I'm a filthy little cheat. Shulkie has a quicker metabolism than me, y'see." Snatching the leather jacket up from the back of the chair, she coos another query: "I don't think I caught your name, by the way." Remy grins a bit, standing to help her on with her coat. "Mos' folks call me Remy chere," his eyes wicked, voice dripping with sin. "But yah c'n call me anytime." Later she will find a playing card in her coat pocket. An ace of spades with a cell number writen across it.