ArchivedLogs:Uneasy Alliances

Uneasy Alliances
Dramatis Personae Cage, Jennifer	2013-05-22 Luke Cage, meet Jennifer Walters. Jennifer Walters-- Please stop scowling.
Location Luke Cage's Office, New York City
It's noon and Luke sent his secretary out for food a while ago. But ever since actually getting his /own/ office, he's enjoyed just being there. The front room has his secretary's desk, a small filing cabinet, a computer, and a ceiling fan. The paint is faded, but everything pretty much works. Off to one side is the bathroom, and the other door leads back to Luke's office. There's isn't much in here but a small desk and chair pushed into one corner, and a couch he keeps by the window that looks out over Times Square. All things considered, its actually a pretty decent little spot. He's here now, standing with his arms behind his back, looking out over the midday Square crowds. Piercing the picturesque view of that everyday bustle of Times Square is a motorcycle that easily stands out. This mightily roaring second generation Suzuki Hayabusa has been painted green and purple, fashioned with the alias of the owner; SHE is written in an elegant cursive, while HULK is roughly stenciled. Both words are surprisingly pink with a white outline to help with prominence. The powerful motorbike slowly arrives to a halt besides the sidewalk. It's very easy to determine that the rider is female even without her nickname spelled out on both of the vehicle's flanks. Clad in pale jeans, snazzy white running shoes and a comfortable dark brown leather jacket, the rider removes her black helmet, unveiling rich fiery tresses beneath. Along with one unhappy face. The annoyed redhead ultimately leaves her parked bike and heads straight for Luke's office, marching in and impatiently eyeing for any signs of life. "Hello?" Luke had watched appreciatively as Jennifer stalked into his building, looking pissed. "Lucky she's not coming here..." he said to no one, standing there in his office. He had gone over his schedule with Janice before she went for food. His schedule was wide open. Then his front office door opens. He can hear from his inner sanctum. He turns and walks to the door that separates his office from the front area, and leans against the door jamb, taking in the woman. "Wow. Jennifer Walters is in my office. I was sorta committed to having a bad day, but damn... you pretty much ruined that." He gives her an appreciative look. There's really no hiding his 'ladies man' style. He's not a gross ogler, but his appreciation is open. The stance that Walters assume is a curious mix of nonchalance and annoyance - legs widely spread, one mildly curved and bent, arms swaying freely as an after-effect of the wild momentum her fierce stride left her with. While feminine, her strong build radiates even through clothing. "Luke Cage," she chimes in response with a stifled smirk. And with that, she falls momentarily silent, crossing her arms, causing the leather to creak and rustle. "I assume you already know my specialty. What you might not know is that I come here on behalf of one Claire Basil. She is a friend of mine who thinks you could use some legal help, while my /personal/ verdict is that--" Her smirk becomes more judging as she eyes the office itself, rather than the burly guy against the door jamb. "--that it's not just legal help you're in need of." Luke studies her face a moment longer before breaking into a big smile. "Well shoot, why didn't you say that before? Come on in!" Luke pushes off the door jamb and leads the way back into his office, proper. The desk and chair look like they get limited use. The filing cabinet looks like it /just/ came out of the box. In fact, there's a little plastic clinging to the back corner still. Everything is well made, but sort of too new for the room. New money. He walks to a small bar that clinks when he opens the cabinet. He holds up two glasses as if to say, 'what will you have?' without actually saying it. What he does ask is, "How /is/ Claire anyway? Haven't seen her in a while." The invitation to venture further into the abode is reluctantly accepted, but Jennifer braves the office nonetheless. As her soft steps carry her further inward, her bright green eyes try to take in as much detail as she can. The clink of glasses distracts her from this task, however; looking over to Luke again, it seems the host's gesture erased most of her displeasure. "Got Coke? If not, just water will do." With a sigh, she digs both hands into the pockets of her fairly short jacket. "She's doing fine from what I could tell. Enthusiastic, wiser than the average Joe would think-- /French/." That last word elicits a shrug and a lopsided smirk from Jennifer. And then she adds, that smirk still present, "I think she has more cats every time I see her." Yet the matter takes a quick turn around. Inhaling sharply, the redhead leaps to the next topic. "Hero for Hire-- Does that mean you only help people who pay you?" There is only a slight measure of sarcastic rhetoric layered into the question; otherwise, Jen actually sounds curious. Luke nods and retrieves a coke from the mini fridge, scoops some ice into the glass, and pours the drink. It just all fits in the glass, so he tosses the can into a blue trash can, and hands Jennifer the glass. He's considering her question all along, even as he pulls out a corona, pops the top and leaves his glass forgotten and empty, content to drink from the bottle. He smashes a slice of lime down the neck of the bottle first though. Luke Cage is... cagey, about the question. Like he suspects its a loaded question, and for all kinds of interesting reasons, but it looks like he /decides/ to walk into it. "Last I checked," he says with a grin, "Bodyguards and P.I.'s get paid for their work." Although Jennifer accepts the glass, it remains hugged by both hands, fingers splayed across it loosely. She curiously eyes the man's choice of a drink, and although there is a flash of disapproval on her features, the woman chooses not to comment on that. "I see," she replies politely. Her tone gains an increasing measure of snideness as she continues: "I assume 'Bodyguard for Hire' did not sound as prestigious?" A hand is promptly raised, palm facing Luke. "I'm not here to discuss the ethics of business practices, mind you. I am here to extend the offer to oversee your work, prevent you from making any legal faux pas, and pull you out of complicated predicaments, be they your own or someone else's creation. Just so you don't have to destroy /another/ holding facility." Luke doesn't seem to pick up on that subtle disapproval and takes a swig of his lunchtime brew. "And, it sounds limiting. We're not /just/ a bodyguard service, you know? Then the name just gets longer and longer," he twirls his hand to indicate the infinite nature of said predicament, and shrugs. "'Hero for Hire' was just easier. You wanna sit down?" He gestures to the couch, while he takes a perch, leaning back against the front of his desk. "It's handy you came by though. I was just starting to think about legal representation. I like to plan ahead. Also, you should have dinner with me tonight." The request is made with no pause or hesitation, nor really even any presumption. He just throws it out there, totally confident. She can say yes or no, he'll take it in stride. It looks like he hails from the world of 'No harm in asking.' He's probably had his share of face slaps too. Comes with the territory. There is a faux gesture of understanding as Jennifer spins her head in accordance with Luke's infinity-demonstrating hand. Ultimately, she tips her head to the side and nods, both brows raised, as if to say, 'Oh, you don't say'. And then she finally takes a long sip of Coke. After rendering her glass a little bit emptier, she lowers it and saunters across the room as though a feline, collecting two lungfuls of air to prepare yet another little speech. Except then Luke proposes a curious little addition. Jennifer stops with her left side facing him, and her gaze snaps back toward him. Disapproval mingles with amusement within the crooked grin that shows. "My dates have a very rigorous approval process," she informs the hero for hire. "My last one had to be tazed and kicked down an elevator shaft, first." "I will want to look at this business you've set up, make sure it's airtight. I hope you have a licence to allow you to perform the duties of a private investigator? I'll have you know I am not Claire. My touch is much less gentle, and once I sink my teeth in, I don't let go." Luke sets his beer down on the desk, so he can hold his hands out, palms up, weighing back and forth as he considers Jennifer's vetting process. "That's not so bad. I mean, I've taken worse, and for dinner with /you/, well..." He leaves it unsaid and addresses the matter at hand. "As a matter of fact, my license is on file with the city. I wouldn't /dream/ of doing anything the law, Ms. Walters. My only motivation is to help people." One can almost hear the halo *ping*ing into existence over Luke's head. Or wait. That noise could also be bullet ricochets. Hard to tell sometimes. "I'll turn Janice over to you when she gets back. She handles all the paperwork here." Jennifer claims a hasty sip of Coke while Luke considers the ramifications of having dinner with the redhead. In response to his sales pitch, she gently nudges that glass in the man's direction, murmuring softly, "How /very/ noble of you, Mister Cage. Just keep in mind that the country is at its most allergic to vigilantes right now." It is not elaborated why; the mutants issue is clear enough to both camps. "Actually, that brings up another question that's been eating at me. Why /do/ you want to help people? I assume it's not the money-- You've been heftily recompensed for the miscarriage of justice. I would think being burnt by the justice system would actually have you turn your back to it. So-- Why--" One hand departs from the glass to gesture to her surroundings. "Why all this?" Luke picks up his beer again and lets the comment about vigilantism go by. /He's/ surely no vigilante. That would be /illegal/. "Well, Miss Walters, its probably no secret that I don't think much of our justice system in this country. You'll notice I didn't break out and become a /cop/." Cage snorts and takes another swig. "But the fact is, there's a lot of people out there who /need/ my help." He takes a deep breath, and it seems like he's venturing into a topic he's definitely thought a lot about, but probably never had to put to words. "There are some of us out there... they're too dangerous to help. They're made of spikes, or they sweat nuke-juice, or whatever. You know? But I don't. My mute is clean. So I can help either side, and no one gets hurt. Or well, no one /has/ to get hurt. Sometimes people don't listen to my warnings." He shrugs. Its not really a boast. It just /is/. "I'm the one who can stand in the middle..." His voice gets quiet, more serious than he's been in weeks, and he stares past Jennifer, out the big window for a minute. Sort of looks like he didn't know thats what he meant until he said it out loud. The redhead stands completely silent, politely listening to the man explain his moral compass. Her hard to read poker face is currently one that she often exercised in the courtroom. Her index finger thoguhtfully traces along the thin rim of the glass. Finally, when she notices Luke's gaze wander past her shoulder, sudden amusement overwhelms her. Jennifer chortles softly. "Looks like you've had time to think that through. I'd applaud, but--" The hand that was tracing the brim of the glass now retreats to gesture to the object, explaining why the suggested action was not possible. Her tone is playful, but not necessarily snide, even if it may easily be interpreted as such. After she finally empties the glass, Jen walks over to the nearest appropriate surface to land it on. "All right. I will have to run a few errands today, but I will call you in the evening, if that's fine. I might also have an opportunity for you-- Unfortunately, there would be no pay in it, so you're welcome to deny it." Luke blinks, coming back around to focus, laughing as well. "Well damn, /that/ got serious. But sure, tonight's fine." That lady-killer smile again, "Say, 8 o'clock at Becco? Right across the Square, here. I've taken pro-bono work before. Lets talk it out over cannelloni." Jennifer bares a slowly expanding, wide coy grin. "I have your phone number," she duly notes, slyly neither confirming nor denying the opportunity for a date, turning on her heels to start walking towards the exit. "I'd warn you it's potentially dangerous, but that would be a moot point, probably." Her cheerful voice resonates across the rooms as she calls out the man even as she wanders off, "I'll keep you posted."