ArchivedLogs:Peace and War

Peace and War
Dramatis Personae Eric, Jim, Shelby
In Absentia	2013-02-03 You're not my dad!
Location <NYC> Zabar's - Upper West Side
Zabar's is where those in the know go to get their bagels and lox. Arguably the most famous (and best) Deli in Manhattan and continually operated by the Zabar family since 1934, Zabar's is now one of the largest supermarkets in New York City, jam packed with great food at good prices. So a private dick and a homeless chick walk into a deli... The joke began several blocks away when Shelby ran into Jim while they were both exiting a particular apartment building. After giving him the stink-eye in the lobby, she mentioned a deli that had supremely tasty bagels and were willing to pile them high with various meats, provided one wasn't -obviously- a mutant. She may or may not have called the owners bitches when explaining this, and described an episode with a broom being swung at heads. But still...the bagels are first rate and Jim can pass when he's not playing hippy, right? Right. So here they are. Shelby, with no concept of chivalry, yanks the door open to let Jim go in first. Y'know, just in case the old lady with an attitude is behind the counter. Fortunately she's not and so the teenager follows in his shadow, stripping her mittens off and breathing in warm, meaty air. "Oh yeah, forgot to say, I kinda left my wallet in my other pants." "You don't /have/ other pants," Jim grouses; he's has been a champion grouser, though for much of the way here his grousing has been directed at other things, even ratcheting up a grousey /chortle/ for the broom anecdote. He braves the entrance without hesitation, his tree-hugger alter ego receded to dandruffy-flakiness, already drearily fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. "You're just damn lucky I've been paid lately. Jeez, that gig at Luci's was a snap. Wonder what other kinda gardening gigs I could," he tips up his nose to sniff in the nice heavy smell of toasting bagels, "get in on." Snifsniff. "You're so smart. God, sometimes I don't even -believe- how smart you are. That's why you're a dick, huh?" The lack of brooms has left Shelby cheered, as does his apparent willingness to bring out the wallet. She knuckles at her eyes--still a little smeared with makeup "borrowed" from Jax--and then squints up at the menu board. "You grow what you did last night, I bet I could get a good price for it. Y'know. Around." The suggestion is pseudo-casual. More intense is Shelby's fastening upon the concept of dinner: "I'ma have two of the pizza bagels and the cinnamon apple one too for dessert." "Is /that/ what you think," Jim seems vaguely to be listening, vaguely to be /amused/, while scanning the menuboard as well. "Y'know, they don't call me a /private/ dick for nothing, I don't pimp out my /growing/ services to kids, thanks. I wanna get a good price, I'm gonna be going be reaching a little over your head, kiddo." He's settles in line behind a young couple with a stroller containing a towheaded little boy that squints at him. So he squints back. There's a long pause, before he gradually allows, "S'not a bad trick, is it, though. Not really eager to start advertising - kept my head down my whole life, not gonna start getting careless /now/ just for a little green." "But it'd help." Shelby rocks back and forth on her feet, her old sneakers squeaking and squishing with the melting slush they picked up on the walk. "I mean, like, we could go in partners. You'd have more money. Maybe I could even, like, get a real place to stay. My own -couch-." And wouldn't that be a marvelous thing? She is, however, careful to keep this marvelous idea pitched low, the kid in the stroller given a narrow look. Kids are so nosey. "And Hive said you'd help," she adds, softest of all, invoking the power of Other People's Opinion of Him. "Help with what, aiding a teenage girl become a dealer?" Jim raises the most dubious of Get-Real eyebrows at Shelby over his shoulder. "Yeah right. 'Cause you'd be what, my agent? No no, I got this -- my /accountant/ yeah? You're funny." All muttered with his lips barely moving, baring his teeth so slightly at the strollerkid in victory when he's /rolled away/. They're up now, and he thumbs back the brim of his hat to order, "Uh. Hi, two pizzathing bagels. Uh. And a cinnamon apple. And just the cheese and lox - with capers. You got the capote kind? Awesome." The young woman behind the counter manages to process and respond to all of this without ever changing her bored expression or speak. "And an extra large coffee, three sugars and three creams," Shelby puts in around Jim's arm. Just to add to the boredom. With that done, she shuffles down a bit and begins liberating napkins--far more than anyone without a toddler should need--and straws--what do they need straws for?--and a few of the balsam stirring sticks. "I'm just -sayin'-," she goes on as she fetches these things, "that if you can -do- something that'd get you lots of money, it's dumb -not- to. It's not like it's the worst thing I ever did. Or you, I bet. I'ma grab us a booth!" And she goes to do just that, leaving him to carry. Everything. "-ksk." Jim sees what Shelby did there, lurks behind at the counter to grudge-order a coffee of his own now that she /mentions/ it. He tucks a stirring stick into his mouth to chew on once he's finally served up their heaping tray of food, dropping it unceremoniously at whatever table Shelby occupies. "What's /dumb/," he contends - with stick in his mouth, he has no choice but to speak through absently bared teeth, "is doing shit you think'll get you fast cash without first numbering out the /downsides/. Making a lot of money means selling to a lot of people. Selling to a lot of people means cutting in on some other jackass's client base. You want that kinda heat? 'Cause I got this thing about heat." While talking, he's divvying out items off the trap, one for him, two for Shelby, two for him, /TWO/ for Shelby. Then he drops into his seat. While waiting for Jim, Shelby has begun to make a tent out of straws and napkins. Maybe Sebastian inspired her. It all comes tumbling down as food items begin landing on the table but hey, she doesn't hold a grudge. The detritus is just swept to the side so she can haul her bagels closer. "You think I don't know that? Fuck, man, I know that. I hooked up with this dude down in Tampa, I know how it works. You gotta like, build -infrastructure-. -Infrastructure- is people between you and the guns, right? I know folks." The lady is wise. Or something. She also tucks a stirring stick between her teeth as she begins to transfer cheese and pepperoni from one bagel onto the other, double-loading it. "But I guess I could always be a stripper instead." "Guess so," Jim grunts down at his bagel, utterly without sympathy, "If stripping or dealing're the only two options you're apparently able t'come up with, it'd be a hell of a lot safer. And /legal/. No offense, kid? But the folks you know? Not likely worth trusting if you're dealing with dope and cash. -- /Guns/ are are never far behind. That shit /changes/ people." He chases down a stray caper, tucking it back into the fleshy pink folds of fishflesh, doing his own bagel-rearrangement. This is the second time he's proven immune to her wiles. Shelby presses her lips together to express her disapproval. It is an expression that does not do kind things for her lack of chin. "I can't become a stripper anyway," she mutters, "no tits." Still eyebrow-glaring at him, she takes a big ol' bite of bagel. Chew chew chew. "So," she goes on when her mouth is clear, "did you really bring flowers to open mic night? Were you trying to say sorry? 'Cause if you want, I'm right here and you can try again." "Apologize for what, you telling everyone I'm a pedo?" Jim parries so very dryly. "Look, kid, you start shouting in a restaurant, you better be prepared for someone to start shouting back." He takes out some aggression on his poor bagel, with a savage bite, glowering down at the pile of creamcheesygoodness. "I brought flowers, yeah. Your friend Melinda hit me with 'em, so I took 'em back and gave 'em to /Hive/." "Fucking waste of flowers, he's not gay. Should've let Mel keep them, she's nice," Shelby retorts, though there are crumbs and a dribble of pizza sauce involved because food. "So how come you started talking about knocking up teenagers, huh? I only called you a pedo 'cause you did that shit and fuck...I thought you were one of those creepy assholes. Maybe you wanted -me- to say sorry with some ass. Or whatever. For getting you shot." She picks up a fallen pepperoni and pokes it into her mouth. She's rapidly coming to resemble a chipmunk. "Yeah, /imagine/ my surprise," Jim says deadpan about the Hive update, not a hair out of place in his hard stare - which exists above his own full cheeks. Lox do not bite through easily, so he has to chew for a moment to ravel in a stray flap of fish hanging out the side of his mouth like a tongue. He steals a napkin to wipe up after it, "Man, I'd have said it if you were an eighty year old man, too - it's fuckin' classic /IHOP history/. You miss the part where I said I was talking about the restaurant staff?" Growlgrumble. Bagels are so good being angry while eating. He sinks his teeth in and says /while/ wrestling loose another bite, "...s'not wrong t'be cautious." Grudging, grudging allowance. "But s'a different between being cautious and flying off the god damn handle. I wasn't exactly playing footsie un'er the table with you. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do it partly just t'make my life harder." Shelby's mouth is full so she releases a huffy breath through her nose. Snort! That's what she thinks of his history lesson. Snort, snort. The last of her bagel is likewise assaulted with teeth and chewed -without mercy-. "Mmph. That was a dumb fucking thing to say, anyway," she finally tells him, reaching for her coffee. "I did it 'cause you were being creepy and because you were sitting on my coat." This is somewhat grudging because it could be taken as an admission he's correct. At least partially. "Seemed like the fastest way to get you up, y'know?" "Hah," Jim says behind a hand - because he's chewing and doesn't want to SeeFood, "you're just mad I pulled a better scam." "Fuck you." In other words, yes. Shelby takes a gulp of coffee and uses her wrist to wipe her mouth after. She studies him. She considers. "So...we're cool now, right?" Jim frowns at the last half of his bagel and trades it out for his coffee. Maybe he forgot Shelby had asked a question. "Yeah." Slurp. He swills his cup's contents, watching it spiral. "Guess we are. We folk are gonna need t'ban together more than ever these days." He swipes up a smear of creamcheese with a thumb and then scraping it off on his lower row of teeth. "You put those skulls on Jax's wall?" "That's right. Help each other out." Shelby stares at him pointedly but she doesn't bring up the potcactus idea again. It's laid to rest. For now. "What sku--oh, yeah. The sugar skulls? Yeah, I think I did those Friday night. It was crazy, huh? I forgot to take 'em down again, Bastian said they don't match. Maybe next time I'm over there." She plants her elbows on the table and leans her chin into her hands. "Why?" "I'd say Jax was surprised t'see them," Jim grins evilly, "But I don't think that guy's surprised by much anymore. Think he'd like 'em more if they were a different color. Can you do that? Change colors?" Shelby's eyebrows go up. An evil grin was not expected; it leaves her blinking. "Nah. I mean, I could draw them again? In different colors. Jax does colors though, right? He could change them...oh wait, shit, was he pissed off?" Suddenly, she frets. "Maybe I could go over tonight. I don't want him pissed off, that's like...my second couch." "I dunno if Jax knows how t'be pissed," Jim opines dryly over his coffee. Occupying a booth, he sits engaged with a creamcheese-lox bagel adorned with capers. Also engaged with Shelby's stunning conversation, which even now is leaving him kind of perplexedly chewing and coffee'ing, "Nah, he just said they'd match better in black and red. Y'got me on that one, kid. The littler one, uh... Spencer. He liked 'em. He seems to like just about everything." He says it /judgmentally/: his default tone. Shelby has that effect on people. She's got her own coffee. The bagel left on a plate in front of her looks like it's been scraped clean, though it's still stained with pizza sauce. "I guess I could do them in black and red but fuck, that's so -boring-. If Spencer likes them, they oughta stay like that," she decides. For Jax. And Jax's apartment. She reaches for the sugar dispenser on the table to add even more to her mug. "So. Dude. Cactus. If you're not gonna grow more to deal, you can grow -us- more, right? Just for fun?" A figure steps into Zabar's, looking around the busy deli and pushing his way towards the counter through the crowd of tourists. For once, all but the most die-hard New Yorker's part like the red sea in front of the blue uniform and badge on Eric's body, cap pulled down over his head. He steps over towards the counter and gestures to one of the clerks. The clerk leans over, and the two of them have a murmured conversation, before the clerk steps away and darts into the back of the store. Eric turns his attention to the rest of the store, eyes scanning carefully from place to place. "We're calling it /cactus/ now?" Jim sounds /pained/ by this, having to set his coffee down to free up both hands for a scrubbing of his face. "Yeah, whatever. Probably safer than whatever streetcorner punk Shaney'd buy from. Least you'd know it wasn't laced with something oh-oh-oh." His voice drops when Eric's presence cuts through the joint like a hot knife through butter, sucking through his teeth in a vague wince, "I know that guy. Don't look." "What else are we supposed to call it? It's better than some of the other stupid shit names you hear for..." Shelby trails off, eyebrows lifting again. Naturally, she twists around on the bench and looks. The police uniform is the first thing she sees--it causes a flinch--but then she gets a half decent look at Eric's biceps before dropping down into her seat. "Holy shit, Muscle Pony is a -cop-! You know him? Seriously?" For some odd reason, this delights her. "Oh my god, you -are- a pervert." As Eric's eyes fall onto Shelby and Jim, his eyebrows furrow for a moment. Then a smirking smile spreads on his face and he glances backwards at the counter. "And can I get a bagel with lox as well, when you have a moment?" he says, flashing his teeth at one of the clerks behind the counter. Then he sets off towards Shelby, one hand slipping his thumb into the edge of his belt. "Well, hello. Fancy seeing you out in the world." he glances at Jim, and his smile diminishes slightly at the edges, eyebrows furrowing. "And you." "-a /pervert/?" Jim is saying this to Shelby somewhere between offense and confusion. Which is what Eric walks in on, and he fixes a semi-polite grin on a grizzled-unshaved face not built well for general polite society. "Hey. Officer." His own grin fades then, jerking a chin at Shelby, "/Muscle/ Pony?" It sounds worse when you don't even get the reference. Beneath the table, Shelby's foot flies on a path towards Jim's shin. Good thing she's wearing sneakers. Up above, she's -sparkling- at Eric and since she's recently washed her hair, is able to even wind a lock around her finger as she smiles at him. "You didn't tell me you were a cop! Man, if I'd known I maybe wouldn't've tried to grab your ass on the dance floor, huh? That's assault, right?" Where the hell did that southern accent come from? All she's missing is the bubble gum to pop on as she looks from Eric to Jim to Eric. "Jim's buyin' me bagels. You guys know each other?" "Battery, actually. It's only assault if it scares me." Eric points out, absent-mindedly, eyes on Jim. "Yeah, we've got a friend in common." he says, a wry smile twisting at his lips. "How's things been? Staying out of trouble, I hope?" he glances back to Shelby, smile brightening once more. "And that's a bunch of bullshit. Don't lie to an officer of the law. You'd have grabbed harder." he says, smirking and crossing his arms over his chest. Under the table, Jim thumps Shelby's ankle right back, just on reflex. It's more sharp jab than sweet-footsie, with a very brief popped-eye 'are you /kidding/ me' stare. And then: all casual grins and a brandishment of bagel to the nice policeman, explaining to Shelby, "Yeah, me and Shaney met him a few weeks back at a place. Where'd you meet /my niece/ Shelby, huh? She's a pretty nice kid, real /sharp/." Son of a bitch--that's a direct translation of Shelby's expression, the look that flashes at Jim after she's thumped and then one-upped. "Oh wow, Jim -and- Shane? I don't think they know -how- to stay out of trouble," she says, looking up at Eric again. Earnest and amused, that's her. "He not -really- my uncle but we're real close. But like, not dance floor close. What's the punishment for lying to an officer, anyway? You gonna whip your gun out?" Her eyes flick down to Eric's thumb-hooked belt then slide over to Jim, her eyebrows raised. "Bet Uncle Jim'd like to see that." Eric raises an eyebrow at Jim, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "Uncle." he says, clearly unconvinced. He purses his lips and then turns, glancing over at the counter. There is a blare of noise from the radio on his chest, and the hand in his belt moves to turn the volume down, bringing the sound of the dispatcher down to a murmur of noise in the background. "I see." he says, giving Jim a curious look. Flick, his eyes move from one to the other. "I'm not so sure he would." he says, turning to look over at the counter where the clerk has not yet returned from the back of the store. "Like an uncle," Jim agrees, "Thick as thieves -- without the /thief/ part." Naturally. /Grin/! "Boy, have you got that right, guy. And I'm sure my tender little niece here would like it even less. You know, she just got a solo in our church choir? I'm buying her bagels to celebrate - she's got a great voice, you ever hear it? Real good girl. Real proud of her. Real protective." KICK. While folding his fingers under his chin pleasantly! "You fucking jerk!" There, it's been proven: the extent of Shelby's patience in playing along is about two minutes. She kicks back, this time without even trying to be subtle about it. "Look, I can -totally- hit on the hot cop if I want to, okay? He -likes- it. You're not allowed to be protective of me," she explains, taking a page from his book and grousing. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she tilts her face back up towards Eric. She is stubbornly going to go through with flirting, if only to mess with her boothmate's evening. "Maybe -he- wouldn't, but I...um. Are you, like, waiting for something?" The unsure, faint look of concern in Eric's eyes vanishes quickly after Shelby's outburst, and he chuckles as the corners of his lips twist up into a smile. "Clearly, she has good vocal strength." he says, lightly teasing Jim. "Yeah. Here for work." he says, undescriptive. Another glance back towards the counter, and Eric continues, "Picking up some paperwork to drop off at 1PP." he says, Georgia accent thickening on the abbreviation. "Guess they need to finish the last bit of it up or some'at." A little shrug. "The nice cop's on duty," Jim draws up his legs to /dodge/ the kick, even before Shelby launches it. "Jesus, /down/ girl, do you only go after guys twice your age? Have a little respect for the law, miss High School." He hitches up his brows at Eric, "Amiright?" "I'm not -in- high school, -Uncle Jim-. Look, just 'cause you haven't gotten laid in like, two hundred years, doesn't mean you should try to ruin it for the rest of us." Shelby is growing less and less amused by Jim's continued (and largely successful) attempts to dance circles around her. She slumps down in the bench, possibly giving up sparkling at Eric as a lost cause. "Paperwork from a deli, huh? What'd they do, serve up a hobo as cold cuts?" she inquires, moody and fidgeting with her coffee cup. Amused, Eric shakes his head, but does not respond to Jim's - possibly rhetorical - question with anything but that headshake and smile. To Shelby, he replies, "If they did that, they'd have a detective here, not a police officer." he says. There is movement behind the counter, and Eric turns with a brief apology to head back to the counter. He is not gone long - thirty, forty seconds, at the most, before he returns with a pink plate with a bagel and an equally pink slice of lox between the cream cheese and the halves of the bread. "Well, one of two missions accomplished." he says, flashing the two of them a smile as he picks up the bagel and bites into it. "I thought you and Sebastian were a thing now, anyway," Jim adds idly over his coffee, and while he attentively side-eyes all Police Activity in the area, it's Eric's bagel he comments on, benignly, "Man after my own heart. It's good shit here, huh? Still kinda new to the city. Lot to take in. How you been, anyway." Eric is gone for exactly long enough for Shelby to hiss, "Asshole," at Jim. Clearly it doesn't take because he's right back at it when the officer returns. "He asks me out once, so I'm not allowed to get hit on? Jesus," she mumbles into the rim of her coffee mug. However, a subtle counter-attack is unleashed when she scootches over on the bench and makes room. Enough room for both a man and his immense gun belt. "Yeah, how've you been?" Eric glances briefly at Jim before he puts his plate down and takes a seat down on the bench - as respectful of a distance away from Shelby as is possible. "Their lox is the best." he replies, taking another bite of bagel and swallowing it before he replies. "Bagels, too. There's another place down where I patrol, but they're not nearly as good. I was glad to get the call to come up here." he says, brightly. "It's been going well. And how about you two?" His eyes turn from Jim, first, then to Shelby. "Congratulations on your choir solo." he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling in anusement. "I only see one person flirting here, sweetheart," Jim hisses across the table just before Eric returns, rolling his eyes, "You know how it is, guy. Workin' hard or hardly workin'. Kinda between jobs right now but so far the landlady ain't complained. Shelby's just gotten a boyfriend. You know Sebastian, right? The quiet one? Guess he worked up the guts to ask the girl out a few days ago an' his family couldn't be happier." "Oh, yeah, sure. Choir solo. Me and God, we're like...tight, y'know?" Shelby crosses her fingers and holds them up to demonstrate. "Ave Maria and shit." Then Jim is given a look. It is a look that says what the hell, man. Complete with raised hands, palms up. "He just asked me out. Maybe back in the '20s when you were a kid that was boyfriend girlfriend but..." Eric gets a look, an eye-roll and a sigh that asks, without words, what can you do? "Oh yeah?" Eric looks surprised, but somewhat pleased. "Yeah, I know Sebastian. I mean... I've met Sebastian. He seems like a good guy. Smart. Real smart." He lets out a short bark of laughter. "When I first met him, I thought he was in grad school or somethin'." he says, shaking his head bemusedly, before stuffing more bagel in his mouth. Chew, chew, swallow. "Just don't hurt him, or you'll have to answer to his pa, and that's not summat I'd be recommending." The smile hardens at the edges slightly, though his hangs true on his lips. "Grad school? Man, first time I met those kids I thought they were in junior high. And barely aren't. Hey, you met Jax?" That raises Jim's brows and /lowers/ the coffee cup he'd been raising, a more familiar-comfortable grin forming. "Hhhhwell yeah, man, if you think about what all those kids've been through, you'd be protective, too. I heard he --," shrug, grin, "-- well, he show'd a guy the /door/ for pulling something with Shaney a while back. And he's got at least five other guys just as scary -- or man, scarier. Not like Shelby'd have to worry about that, think a lot of them'd be watching out for her just as well. You know how it is, watchin' out for kids. It's a dark world." He's saying this with a great deal of sympathy for Eric, adding, "Not that I gotta tell you, huh? You've probably seen a world of it." "What, Jax? The super nice guy?" Shelby makes a skeptical noise--phft--before locking back on Jim. She can't seem to decide if she's massively offended by him pulling this super protective act or puzzled at his stubborn insistence in pursuing it. "Okay, I'm gonna say it again, dude. I'm not a fucking kid. And I gotta pee." With that as a segue, she prods Eric in the muscles so she can exit the booth. Eric's smile fades slowly, and he looks down at the table. "Yeah. Yeah, I have." He stands up, making way for Shelby to go leave for the head. He glances back up at the counter as he vacates the little seat, reaching down and picking up his bagel for another bite. "Super nice, super scary. /Trust/ me." he murmurs. He glances at Shelby as she passes, serious expression on his face as he leans against the table, looking Jim in the face. "Just as scary for adults, these days. Maybe scarier, since we don't have ignorance on our side." he shrugs his shoulders, noncommittally. "I don't know. Fuck, it's all been the same for me." "Knowing doesn't make it easier," Jim agrees grimly, and with Shelby gone a lot of the playfulness of his snarky grin fades into a bland facescrubbing. "Well, whatever, man. Good luck whatever you're doin' out there." And possibly some conversation will occur from this point, and probably some /snippiness/ between the two mooches once the nice officer goes back to his actual errand. Just another day in New York. Nothing to see here.