2009-10-10: Family Reunion

Starring:

Trina_V4icon.pngJack_V4icon.pngElena_V4icon.pngGene_V4icon.png

Date: October 10th, 2009

Summary:

Like most family reunions, this one has ups, downs, and unexpected surprises.


"Family Reunion"

The Den - Brooklyn, NYC

"Hold your damned horses," Trina barks at one end of the bar in her , glowering at the fratboys who need yet another pitcher of beer and are getting whiny about her pulling the portions of Guiness for the patrons actually sitting at the bar first. "The tap ain't goin' nowhere."

It's late enough on a Friday night that there's actually a small crowd, and the dark haired bartender is hustling to keep up. Knees bend in an emphatic echo of her pulling the lever once more, filling the pilsner glass in her hand with dark brew before capping it off with a thick head of delicious, tasty, perfect foam. Then that glass is slid down the bar before she moves to the machine to tap in the latest round of orders on the brand spanking new computer system that she is still learning. This is the part that trips her up. Partway through, there's a loud round of cursing that terminates in her frustrated growl and her cry to the ceiling for help, her head falling back. Well, okay, it's not a prayer so much to God as it is to: "JACK! IT'S DOING IT AGAIN." Do not crush the computer touch screen. Do not crush the computer touch screen. It's a mantra repeated as she breathes in deep, calming breaths

Another day, another dollar, another non-alcoholic beverage. Jack is currently behind the bar, doing his best to try and make a non-alcoholic margarita taste anything like palatable. When the newest ruckus of the evening begins, he pushes his last three failed experiments in front of the fratboys. "Here," he offers, glaring at them each in turn. "On the house. And not a peep. I'm very sensitive."

That said, he dusts his hands off on his long-sleeved t-shirt, partially obscuring the 'I <3 BOOBS' logo printed across the front. "Coming, sweetness," he calls out to her. When he slides up in front of the touch screen, he peers at it for a few moments, taps some buttons, then proceeds to bang on it with the heel of his fist. Unlike the antiquated cash register, thumping produces no positive effects. "S'broken," he informs her, reaching up to scratch at his ruined eye.

"Why did I think this was a good idea?" Trina whines, her face screwing up into an expression of frustration and defeat as she slides her hands through her hair to lock at the back of her head, looks at Jack, and gives a weary sigh. "I /knew/ I should have tossed that salesman out on his ear soon as he said anything about computers. Never, ever, /ever/ again. Remind me that I said that when they start talking about how much easier it will be?" That said, the brunette plants a kiss on her fiance's cheek. "Thanks for trying, baby." She then moves to a drawer to extract a pad of much more reliable table tickets and then she starts testing pens to find one that works. Oh, pen and paper, tried and true. We, the technophobes at the Den of Iniquity, love you.

The door swings open, and there is a brunette, dragging someone with her hand in hand as she moves through the crowd, doing her best to hide behind the mass of bodies within. Elena looks over her shoulder at Gene, flashing him a wink, tugging him further into the bar and letting go of his fingers once she sees the counter. She deliberately positions herself to the very end, as Trina makes her rounds on the other side, taking a seat. She doesn't even yell out their names - it would be lost with how crowded the Den was. She'll wait her turn, patiently, but not, and she can't help but grin ear-to-ear. At present, she's dressed in a wide-necked top, one corner drooping off a tanned shoulder, jeans, and ballerina flats. A black, leather jacket is draped onto the counter.

"I'm glad you decided to come out with me," the Gomez woman murmurs to Gene's ear whenever he gets close enough to take up the stool next to her. "Besides, we need to celebrate your recovery!"
Dressed in more causal clothes, Gene wears a blue tee with a white Dirty Engish logo on the front in white. It seems much newer than most of his t-shirts, as if the purposefully faded blue jeans he wears. The only sign of older clothing are the sneakers that Gene is able to hide from the finely manicured hands that would seek their doom. Deeming it not too cold, he doesn't have a jacket, though for some reason he has a Legend of Zelda messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Holding onto Elena as she guides him effortlessly through the crowd, he moves to her side once they get to the bar, squeezing himself to the seat next to the Gomez girl. "Yeah, it's been forever since I've been in here… As for the celebrating, we could have done it elsewhere. Just make sure to enjoy a couple drinks on me, even you don't really get a kick outta 'em."

"Anything for you, love," Jack replies, smiling and giving Trina a fond pat on the backside as she returns to business in a more traditional fashion. The smile fades from his face as he turns to point one long, spidery forefinger at a fratboy who is about to open his mouth. The finger is wagged back and forth in a universal sign for 'No-no-no.'

And now it's time for him to get back to business as well. He mixes a whiskey sour, a 7 and 7, and three cosmos in quick succession, pours two pitchers, and is on the verge of shaking a martini when a familiar voice reaches his ears. He might be a step slower and a few pounds heavier, but he's no less alert than he's ever been. "Scrappy?" he queries, blinking his good eye incredulously.

To his credit, he's quick to recover. "And Gene? Good to see you!" Without further ado, he vaults over the bar with a flagrant show of disregard for any and all customers in his way. Both arms are held out to Elena before his feet have hit the ground. "Hug me," he demands. "Hell. You too, Geek. C'mere, both of you."

"Jack!" So much for not calling out people's names, Elena greets him as enthusiastically as a child greeting her father home, standing up and bracing on the stool so she could wrap her arms around his neck and pecking his cheek soundly. And then? She hangs onto him tightly, burying her face somewhere where his neck meets his shoulder. "It's so good to see you! I— what happened to your eye?! Christ, what's with everybody?! I saw Lachlan yesterday and his leg's a mess!" She pulls away and grins at him. "I can't believe this place is back up and running again. And I heard from Trina you're being good." Aw, she's so proud of him. "And guess what? I don't need a fake ID." She winks and flashes her…. and brace yourself.. driver's license towards Jack, brandishing it triumphantly. No more red stripe that says '21 in the year 2009.' That and… well, a driver's license in her hand is probably frightening, considering the last time Jack tried to teach her how to drive. And shoot a gun.

"Hey, Jack!" Gene replies cheerful as he decides to go with a friendly wave unless he's dragged into PDAs. After all, this is a special moment between Scrapp-Err, Elena and her 'Uncle'. He does pause to arch a brow at the nickname. "Scrappy?" he inquires with some confusion, clearly not getting the reasons for the reference. He is content to be the background, setting the messenger bag in his lap. Not like women do with purses, but in a manly way. That looks a little like women do with their purses, but not. Really.

Trina, scurrying around the tables and trying to get everybody squared away, misses the introductions. She's doing the job of what two people used to do in fatter times, and it isn't until she's made her way up to the bar and pushed between a biker wannabe and Elena that she returns to the bar. "We're not anywhere near a college," she snaps in Jack's direction, tunnel visioning for the man who is supposed to handle the complicated stuff as she holds up four fingers. "Where the hell do these people come from, asking for cosmos?" Four friggin' martinis. "Sorry," she mutters to Elena as she steps back away. It is then that the motorhead realizes who's sitting beside her. "Laney?" There's a squeak as her hands shove the pad in her apron and then reach up to grab the younger woman by the jaw. "Ohmigawd," she crows, slipping seamlessly into her more genuine Southern accent. "Lookitchoo! Y'look /great/! How long y'been in here? How did I miss you comin' in?"

Grinning from ear to ear, Jack heartily embraces his adopted niece, even going so far as to lift her feet from the floor and swing her around in a circle. He sets her down just in time for Trina's fond welcome. "Yes, yes. Everything's good, my freshly legal little senorita. Don't worry about the eye. Lost it in a poker game a couple years back."

Lie. And a poor one at that. But even more than not wanting to tell the tale, he doesn't want to remember Nathan clawing it out.

"Nice purse," he compliments Gene blandly, clapping him on the shoulder. "Who's Zelda?"

"……" Elena squints at Jack, catching him at the lie. But she lets go so she could turn around and greet Trina… and is promptly grabbed at the jaw. "….hifwiwa," she says, her mouth working despite the grip. But she does embrace Jack's fiancee when she sees her. "And so do you! I think getting this place back up and running suits you. You remember my friend, Gene, right?" Oh DOES SHE - but Elena isn't exactly familiar with the little mishap that put Gene on Trina's poop list, so she makes the introductions unabashedly. "Jack, the place looks awesome… even better than the last time it was open and hopping like this, though granted I've not been here in ages so I'm probably just really biased… but everything looks great! It's been a good week…" Save for the early rough spots. "Catching up with everybody. I saw Cass and Lachlan and Abby yesterday. Did you know Lach got hit by a car in his honeymoon?"

"A Princess of Hyrule. Before you ask what is Hyrule, it's a land of a video game… one of the greatest games ever," Gene replies with his best 'I am not in my happy place' face for Jack, despite the hand on his shoulder. "And it's MESSENGER BAG, not a-" Gene is stoped as he hears his name. He tilts his head to the side as he looks toward Trina with a confused expression. "I don't think we've met… But… Huh."

Trina leans her body to look past Elena, and the exuberant smile instantly fades. There are no words to describe how joyful reunion turns into Killer Death Glare as realization dawns upon the murderous horizon, but it's a terrifying thing to witness. Particularly when the brunette's mouth parts to bellow, but nothing immediately comes out. After a moment's hesitation — and it's a fast moment — there's one warning: "YOU." And with that, the little black-haired beast hurls herself and — more importantly, perhaps — her right hook towards Gene.

"Hadn't heard of that, no," Jack replies, scratching absently at his scar. "Hard to keep track of all the marriages in the past year. More of 'em than I can shake my stick at. Glad to hear he's okay, though."

Spider sense is tingling. Internal collision detectors at redline. Though he has no way of knowing exactly what is coming from behind him, he knows something is there. Something angry and fast-moving. He scoots a step to the side, given Trina a chance to soar past him and strike out at will. For the moment, all he can do is wince.

"He— " And then, Trina flies past her to… DECK GENE?

Whatever story she's about to tell Jack dies in her lips, watching the other bartender fly at her friend, fist cocked, to add more oomph to the strike. She's so stunned, she forgets herself, unable to do anything but stare with shock as the lovely lady from the South turns RABID. Her jaw slackens, and for a moment she doesn't know what to say.

Oh wait, yes she does.

"TRINA!" she cries, and is about to intercept, but it's too late and the beginnings of a brawl ensue. Oh. God.

Suddenly it dawns on him who he is talking to. He tries to get up and off the chair to defend himself. He's a martial artist now, so he can do this! Except… He can't. "Crazy car bi-!"

BIFF!

The powerful blow smashes into the side of Gene's face, sending him straight into some people like he was punched by a man twice Trina's size. He gets thrown BACK by the people who he runs into, apparently with some yelling of a spilled drink or something like that. Gene slumps over the chair, trying to figure out if he lost a tooth or not.

"A PERFECT FRAME. It was a FACTORY PERFECT FRAME, and you MADE ME PULL IT." Trina's seemingly content, for now, to point accusatorially towards Gene like he was Judas, her blue eyes wide as she turns to Jack. "That's the GAWDAMNED MOTHER ER WHO ED UP BABY." Then she turns back to Gene, her teeth bared in a growl. "Two years," she hisses. "I have been looking for you for two years. You and that piece-of-sh** Camaro!" Then… evil dawns in Trina's eyes as she asks very calmly, "Is it outside right now?"

"Oh boy," Jack mutters under his breath. "Scrappy!" he calls out, directing her toward Gene with a quick point. "Get him behind the bar. And grab some ice. Sweetheart… Let's just… Go over here." He wraps an arm around Trina's waist, lifts her off her feet, and carries her in the opposite direction. When he opens his mouth again, his voice is raised loud enough to cut through the buzz of the crowd. "EVERYBODY OUT! ANYONE STILL HERE IN TEN SECONDS GETS TO DEAL WITH ME!"

Predictably, the customers scatter like high school students at a cop-raided kegger.

She stares as Mount Katrina Mah blows its top, Elena scrambling forwards as Trina points at Jack accusingly, reaching out to curl her arms around Gene. "Gene! Oh my god, are you alright?! What WAS that?! I didn't even know…" Well, it's obvious that the raven-tressed woman is rather familiar with the young genius considering she just saw the first circle of Hell open up just a minute ago. Her hand extends, touching the side of the young man's face, bleeding the pain out of him the moment fingertips make contact with his skin. "Come on, distance, okay? Let me get some ice…" And with that, she'll help Gene move around the bar, if he'll let her. She also watches everyone clear out the bar pretty damned fast, even the frat boys, and she shoots a look at Jack. There could only be one reason why they would do so.

"You showed them the monster behind the counter, didn't you?" she asks her nuncle, doing her best to haul Gene up.

Trina plants her hands on Jack's arms and strains against his grip, curling her back and pushing against his arm. Fortunately, because it's Jack, she at least has the presence of mind to not start kicking or start clawing. "Lemme go!" she grunts, one of her black pumps clattering to the ground after a moment of dangling precariously from the ball of her feet. "I just need five minutes with his car!! Just five minutes. I'll take four! Jack, honey, sweetie, pleeeease!"

Just deciding to not even look at Trina (as she might be able to tell that his car IS outside), Gene prepares to get up slowly, getting over the inital pain. As Elena moves in to help, he almost reflexively prepares to hit, but as he understands it's Elena, he lets her work her mojo. He gets up somewhat on his own, accepting the help slowly. "Fanks," he offers to his friend, the swelling still causing him to have trouble speaking. "I fink she almost knocked my toof out," he comments, seemingly more disgruntled than anything else.

"I don't care if it's a Camaro, you can't wreck it," Jack replies, not without sympathy. "We're being good, remember?"

He glances at Gene discreetly, willing him to stay silent about any equipment that may or may not have changed hands and anything that purely theoretical equipment may or may not have been used for. Or on.

He puffs out a breath and glances over toward Elena. "Monster? Darling, whatever do you mean?" Faux innocence positively drips from his voice. He finishes by flashing her a grin that's reminiscent of the mischievous boy he existed as a few short years ago.

Being good. Laying low. Dating for so long has given Jack access to the magic keys of Trina's temper and the simple reminder is enough to snap her out of what might be deemed a homocidal rage. Her breath escapes in bullish snorts as she stops fighting her lover's hold on her, but that does not mean that she has moved into the realm of forgiveness. No, her narrowed gaze moves back to Gene, watching him keenly. It still hasn't exactly come to her that everyone in the room who is not her — all three of them — is acting like friends.

"Point, set, match," Elena tells Jack with an answering smile, propping Gene up at the back of the bar and inspecting him - and while his mouth swells, her brand of anesthetic is helping him, at least, not feel the pain at all. She moves around, knowing her way in Jack's place… and despite the few years, plus the year she'd been gone, it has not changed. She finds some ice, and a length of cloth, wrapping it around and moving over to press it gently on Gene's cheek. "Here, hold this," she instructs. "It'll bring down the swelling, sadly my phenomenal cosmic powers can't exactly help with that." She glances over at Trina, and then Gene. "So what's the story anyway, did you two meet in a car accident?" She can read between the lines… then again it doesn't take a genius (hah hah) to get that from what Trina had been yelling a few moments prior.

The tooth seems to be a little loose, but thankful, it doesn't seem to be in danger of falling out. He seems to be able to move around alright, but lets himself be moved as Elena wishes. Besides, looking mauled will help encourage Trina not to punch him again. He hopes.

Letting the ice work on his mouth, the Geek God speaks to Elena as quietly as he can. After all, Trina's verison of the story is bound to be different. The ice reduces the swelling just enough to keep his voice normal. "Basically, I was having a bad day. Got distracted by feeling like I wanted to puke, hit her car. Not that bad, just enough to bend the frame a bit. I come out, wanting to talk about it… She comes at me like an animal. Police were there, dodged her punch and they stopped her from coming at me. Coulda pressed charges, but figured it was best just to let it be. I figured with the insurance information exchanged that would be that after some time passed." A pause is given as he looks over toward Trina, giving an eye to eye to the enraged woman and seeing that she seems like she still wants to press on the assault. "Guess not."

It's only once Trina has ceases her struggling and threatening that Jack sets her feet back on the ground. He loosens his grip on her as well, but doesn't release her entirely. Instead, he cradles her comfortingly in his arms, gives her a gentle, tender kiss on the curve of her ear, and whispers a few words of endearment.

Abruptly, he glances up at Elena. "Not helping, what with the reminding of the issues and such," he informs her. "But thanks for playing. Baby. Baby? Why don't you let me pour you a scotch, yes?" He gives Trina another affectionate squeeze and leads her toward a seat at the most distant end of the bar.

"…you don't know Trina, Gene. It was her car." Said as if Gene just ran over Trina's beloved pet something, scraped the roadkill off the road, cooked it in a pot, and ate it. Still, Elena tends to her friend gently, her expression both amused and exasperated. "But I'm glad those episodes won't be happening anymore," she confesses quietly - knowing full well, of course, just why he felt the way he did. To Jack's reminder, she grins sheepishly. "I guess I should've just let the thing speak for itself, eh, nuncle?" she wonders, lifting her head upwards to meet his eyes. "As strange as this sounds, now it definitely feels like I'm back home." Where she should be, says her inside voice, which she studiously ignores. "So what's been happening? Now that the bar's all cleared… anything new and interesting?"

Trina's calming back down and even goes so far as to terminate the Death Stare so she can close her eyes and drink in the peace that Jack's weaving in whispers. One foot bare against the filthy bar floor, she lets that pass beneath her notice as she rests her arms quietly atop Jack's. And then he promises her alcohol, plying her with it, as Elena explains in limited terms the severity of Gene's trespass.
It's effective.
Trina nods against Jack's cheek and then lets him slips out of her arm-crossed grip to take her hand and move her towards the bar, her stride hobbling and uneven from the missing high heel. There will be a single-malt reward if she behaves herself.

"I offered to pay for it," Gene replies to Elena. It was just when Trina went psycho, he didn't want anything to do with her. After all, she looked like she was gunna kill him. Removing the ice long enough to rub his jaw, the young man rises slowly. "Listen, I likely should get going… Last thing I wanted was to make this get together with you and Jack all awkward. We can go out to celebrate when Trina's cooled down. Time isn't as big an issue for me these days," he offers to Gomez with a warm smile. Hopefully, the next time Trina will have moved on… Seems like she's well on her way. He turns to Jack, finally unshouldering the messenger bag. "I have the stuff, can drop it off if you wanted… Unless there is anything else, you need me to do, I can just head out for awhile."

True to his word, Jack grabs a dusty bottle from the top shelf, pops the cork with his thumb, and pours a hearty four-finger libation into a rocks glass for his lady love. He stares longingly at the bottle for several seconds before setting down in front of her and turning his back. Must. Not. Drink. Musn't.

Glad for something else to thing about, he crosses the few steps between himself and Gene to accept the messenger bag. "Thanks," he says sincerely. "Uh. Mind if I give your purse back next time? I like to unwrap my gifts in private."

"No, it's…. Gene, come on, we rarely ever go out together anymore," Elena pleads, her hand moving to curl her fingers around his arm as if to stay him - though she won't force him if he really wants to go. "Please? If you be good, Trina will be good. And if she has whiskey, she'll be good. Right? Jack says so. Besides, we need to celebrate you getting all better, I even promised I'd be your designated driver!" However, when the messenger bag is passed off to Jack, she looks between the both of them, her dark brow slooooowly lifting upwards in curiosity. 'Stuff', in Gene-speak, meant 'toys' didn't it? But for what?

Trina takes the time to draw a small, encouraging smile, and then she takes the bottle and slides it off the counter and settles it on the seat she's claimed, between her thighs. Away from Jack's temptation zone. The bag is given a very wary narrowing of her eyes, but then she doesn't turn her attention to Gene. Rather, her attention goes to Jack, questioning. "Yeah, I'll behave," the bar owner's other half mutters. "M'better now."

Ish.

Sighing, Gene shakes his head. "Elena, I really shouldn't-" Hands on arm cue a swift 180. "I guess so, just don't want to make any trouble. I'll likely be finding my own in the days to come," he says with a bit of a grin. While he does move away from Elena's grip, it's only to pass the thing that is NOT a purse. "Messenger. Bag. …And of course. Just read the instructions. Also included some info on someone to avoid. I doubt she'll give the bar any trouble, but just wanted to keep you and your ps-Err, Trina informed." With that, he takes a step back, his 'good' deeds done for the day.

"Good man," Jack replies, slinging the bag under the bar and out of sight. "You know me, I always read the destructions." He grins and produces a pack of cigarettes with a flourishing gesture. A tap of his finger on the pack brings a butt popping up, which he snags between his teeth. "Stay, stay," he urges, speaking around it. "We're all friends here."

She nudges Gene at the almost-slip of tongue, Elena giving him the Behave look, and then towards Jack and Trina. Folding her arms behind the counter, she settles in, gaze lifting to take in the couple. "It sounds like you guys have been taken care of while I was away," she jests, at the tail-end of what Gene says regarding the contents of his bag. "But truth be told I'm relieved to find things so quiet. Seeing Lachlan as a father was strangely fitting. Maybe it's been a good time to come home after all." She props her chin on one hand, blowing a lock of her hair. Maybe.

The young woman gets a shrug of his shoulder at the look, clearly not finding any fault with his actions. He stopped himself! Mostly. "I guess so," Gene states calmly to Jack before glancing over to Elena. "Quiet? A little /tooo/ quiet." He looks around with a shifty gaze before he just looks to the bar. "I suppose I'll start having some mixed drinks. I'll go with my usual. Roy Rogers, extra on the Roy." Gene, that boozing maverick.

Jack stifles a laugh, but not a smile. "Aren't you just a bad boy? I bet you have a motorcycle. Maybe you can take me for a ride after we have drinks. I look so pretty with my hair blowing in the wind." He closes his eyes, tilts his head to the side, and fluffs his fingers through his locks. This gesture comes complete with lips pursed into a kissy face. It's only a second before he breaks into a grin and moves to fill the order. "How 'bout you, Scrappy? Now that you're legal, I can fix you somethin' without having to sneak it to you."

She bursts out laughing when Jack fluffs his hair. "You were the bad boy in all of my dreams, nuncle," she teases…. though she blanches. "Except.. not that dream. That…. one that we'll never speak of ever again." She leans her hip against the bar, grinning when Jack calls her by her old nickname. "Plain ol' Jameson," she tells Jack - because it's the only way to drink it. Strong, and not watered down. Widdle Elena is all grown up and drinking hard liquor. Willingly. Except it won't do her much good save for a momentary buzz before her hyperactive metabolism eats away at it. Still, she'll drink. "I'm glad it's quiet," she tells Gene. "I've been hearing it's not going to last."

Trina's gaze slides from Elena to Jack to Gene, taking them all in in turn. Suddenly, it feels like the conversation has very much gone over her head. She doesn't much care for it. Pushing herself to her feet, she settles the bottle on the bar as she crosses the room to finally go and fetch the shoe that she dropped a short struggle ago. Her glass comes with her, Glenmorangie swishing against the sides of her old fashioned. "Ain't never quiet for long. Least, never quiet long enough," she mutters at last.

"I am a dangerous man, Jack. A man of deadly science! Like Dr. Wily, only not old and evil." Gene replies as he raises a fist in the air and shakes it. "I could make eight Robot Masters and terrorize the world ANY time I wanted to." He's doesn't care if the two old(er) people don't get the joke. It's quality geek references, comedic GOLD. At least he gives a smirk to show he isn't entirely serious. At least until Elena and Trina talk of oncoming storms. "Sure that will be the case… But I suppose that's life for you. Hopefully, it won't have to deal with time travel this time. That's all I have to say on THAT."

Jack finishes the Roy, serves it, and pours a whiskey for Elena. He stares longingly at the bottle for a few seconds before he tucks it away and lights his cigarette. "Been watchin' the news, I see," he mutters disdainfully. He shoots a covert glance at Trina. The recent developments on homeland 'terrorism' have been a point of contention between them. "Like the lady said, won't stay quiet for long. Sooner or later, somebody will stand up and do something about it all."

"They call it the Alpha Protocol."

Trust Elena to already have a few details. She takes the whiskey slid to her, hunching over on the counter and taking a quiet swallow of the whiskey. "I know they have enough funding to start covert ops overseas, though I don't know who's heading it up. I trust the other guys are working on that, or so I hear." She doesn't say anything else, a gloomy cast to her gaze when she narrows it upon the glass she holds. "So…" She lifts her glass up a little higher. "I vote we drink, and drink some more, while Jack smokes and smokes some more, and relish the quiet while we've got it. I suppose we could always prolong it if we keep our heads above the water."

"I'm gonna go… get some stuff out of the back," Trina declares suddenly after catching that glance from Jack, her foot sliding back into her once-lost pointy-toed black patent leather pump. Then she goes to lock the front door with a vigorous twist of the deadbolt and pull of the shade. "I'm gonna be ten minutes," she explains further. "And when I get back, if people are still here, we're goin' back to talking about normal stuff." Translation: she's in a foul mood, she doesn't want to talk about this, and she's giving everyone the opportunity to get it out of their systems before going back to enforcing the 'No one here but us mundanes' rule. From the way everyone's talking, Gene's at least familiar with the subject of evolveds, but it doesn't matter. Everything is supposed to be normal. Normal. With her glass still in hand, the brunette starts to make her way behind the bar and into the back rooms.

Gene takes in the information as he finally gets his drink, downing about half of it as Trina announces that she is leaving. He doesn't say anything else, just waiting for either person remaining to speak to figure out if they accidently said something they shouldn't. Trina seems like a girl with lots of buttons, but then again, Gene's only known her when she's been a cute ball of rage and hate.

All this talk of laying down, drinking, and letting come what may only makes Jack's frown deepen. He takes a draw from his cigarette, blows a smoke ring, and then blows another through the first. "Keep our heads down until some government asshole comes alone and chops them off, you mean?" he asks, bitter and rhetorical as Trina walks away from what he clearly views as a pressing issue.

As soon as she's gone, he takes on a brisk, businesslike demeanor. He pulls Gene's messenger bag from under the bar along with a matte black rucksack. One by one, he unloads goodies from Gene's bag into his own. Metal tubes, each the size of a small flashlight. A handful of thumbdrives. Stun weapons that have been modified above and beyond the realm of factory spec.

When the messenger bag is empty, he slides it across the bar to Gene. "Thanks," he says. "When you get a chance, I'm running low on cable for the grapple gun. I think I need a new spike, too. One with longer barbs. The old one yanked free while I was halfway up a tenement last night. Damn near went ass-over-teakettle at five stories up." That said, he cinches the drawstring on his rucksack and slings it over one shoulder. "When Trina comes out, tell her I got pissed and went for a walk, okay? I've got work to do. Good to see you both."

He pats Elena on the cheek, gives Gene another slap on the shoulder, and slips out the door. Time to clock in at the Other Job.

"……………"

Elena stares as Jack casually walks out the door after mentioning grapple guns and spikes. "I. I. I thought he was being good…" she says weakly, before zero-ing a look at Gene. For a moment, it almost seems like she's looming. Yes, that loom. Ramon's loom.

Looks like someone has a bit of explaining to do.

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