2007-03-18: Innuendo


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Riya and Jack enjoy a few drinks, a nice, long talk, and the pair goes out on a limb with the innuendo and promises.

Date It Happened: March 18, 2007


Den of Inquity

The Den's quiet tonight. It usually is on Tuesday. Most of the patrons have long since cleared out, leaving only a ring of sweaty, working-class men in their thirties playing pool at two of the three tables. At the bar, Jack is appropriately bored, and is polishing a row of glasses that already sparkle. He's wearing a simple, grey woolen sweater, black slacks, and his favorite pair of much-scuffed boots.

It's quiet indeed- however, the last thing /anyone/ expects coming into the back room of the Den of Inquity is a twenty-two year old woman dressed the way she is. Rocking Riya, Rockette, has arrived, and the night's not going to be any more normal than it was before, as she heads up to Jack, whistling softly.

When Jack spots his newest customer, he returns the whistle with one of his own, low and under-breath. "Welcome to my wee waterin' hole, lady-o. What can I shake together for yeh tonight?" He lifts two long fingers to touch his brow by way of greeting.

Riya is very very much probably deserving of that whistle. The girl smiles and dances her way into a seat. "Some water for now, maybe something else later." She says, giving a curtsey from her seat.

Jack quirks an eyebrow as he reaches into the cooler beneath the bar. A moment later he emerges with a old-fashioned, label-less glass bottle topped with a metal cap. After cracking it, he pushes it across the glass. "S'not often I have to pull out one of these," he comments cordially.

Riya smiles wryly. "Not often I'm out this late at night, but I just happened to have a day off, so…" She raises her cup to Jack, gives him something of a coquettish smile, then downs half the bottle.

"Fair enough," Jack replies with an easy smile of his own. Scooping up his rag, he returns to his idle glass-polishing. "What is it you do then, lady-o? If s'not too bold o' me to ask, that is."

Riya leans back in her chair, hiking up her heels on top of the table idly. "I'm a Radio City Music Hall Rockette." She says firmly. "And it's not too bold at all."

Jack's eyes travel the length of the Rockette's legs. Then, with a casual elbow-nudge, he shoves feet back to the ground. "As bonne as you may be, nobody's feet go up on me bar." The scolding is good-natured, and he swipes at an imaginary left-behind spot with his rag. "S'not many dancin' girls we see here, either," he smirks briefly. "'least not unless lapdancing's a recognized style."

Riya smirks a bit, both at the comment and at Jack's eyes. "Not even yours, m'dear?" She says warmly, and then his next comment, the Rockette starts laughing. "I recognize it. The other Rockettes, prob'bly not so much."

Jack snickers in response to both her question and statement. "I got a desk to put m'boots on, lady-o. One of the few perks o' ownership 'round here." He gestures vaugely toward the back door, then pulls a cut-crystal bottle of bourbon down from a high shelf. A generous three fingers is poured into one of the freshly re-polished glasses, which Jack scoops up and takes a long swallow from. "Mmm. Sampling the stock comprises the rest o' me perk package."

Riya says dryly, watching Jack, flicking a ID out on the table as she does so, "Then get me some of that stock, why don't you?" She asks, before she adds on, "There have to be more perks, don't there?" One eyebrow raises in vague amusement at that idea.

Jack pushes the ID back across without looking at it. This is his pub, after all, and he can serve who he damn well pleases. "You got it. This is so old, I've forgotten what it's called. Smashin' good, though. Give it a go." He pours a like amount to that in his own glass and pushes it to the Rockette.
"As for the perks? Heh. Not really. I spend my days swatting barflies and dodging pool cues, lady-o," he says.

Riya lets a smile curve her mouth, then in true DoI fashion, she tips her head back, and the glass, and downs the whole thing. Shocking. Someone's talented in more way than one. "Thanks- and it's not lady-o, it's Riya." She says. "Yours, good sir?"

Jack reaches across the bar and offers his rich boy hand for shaking. Long-fingered, delicate, and without a callus to be seen or felt, it's obvious from his paws that he's never seen a lick of honest work. "The moniker's Jack, and there's little good about me, M'afraid," he modestly deferrs. His eyes widen slightly, but otherwise he betrays no surprise at the expeditious dispatch of a thirty dollar glass of bourbon. Unflapped, he refills the glass with his other hand.

Riya's fingers are likewise like Jack's, however, the feet that she lazily curls up underneath her have sene the time and day of work. "If I say your good, then your good." She says, sipping the second glass slowly.

"My ma taught me never to argue with lady, even when I'm buying the drinks." Jack gives the hand a firm, friendly squeeze, then releases it and scoops up his glass. After taking a couple of long, casual swallows, he sets it down with a clink.

Riya smirks. "I think I like your ma, and I like the fact that your buying the drinks even better." She remarks warmly, her glass soon joining his. and a lazy smile crossing her face. Oh boy.

"Anything to cut the monotony," Jack admits honestly. "I'm here for hours, so pretty company s'most welcome." Grinning, he chucks a thumb in the direction of the sweaty, beer-swilling pool players. "Beats the hell out o' lookin' at them."

Riya giggles. "Monotony, smotchony. This probably beats doing three hours of the can-can over and over again- their pool game almost always comes out differently, doesn't it?" She remarks, then her eyes narrow. "/Pretty/ company, eh?"

Unabashed, Jack nods easily. "For certain. It shames me to admit that most o' me female patrons are a bit past their prime, if you catch my meaning. Mold in the basement, and all that." Another gulp of rich, amber-colored bourbon goes down the hatch.

Riya grins impishly. "How'd you know about the mold, though?" She deadpans easily, waving off any other glasses of bourbon.

"Och. Below the belt," Jack replies with a mock-frown. "Keep the punches up, yes?" His serious expression breaks into a grin of his own, and his blue eyes sparkle merrily.

Riya says dryly, "I haven't even seen below the belt, yet, m'good sir Jack, so how can I keep them up?" She winks broadly at him.

Jack brazenly looks Riya up and down twice before responding. "You're a well put-together wench," his brogue and brazen tone turn the insult into a compliment, and the tip of his tounge trails a slow, languid line along his upper lip. "Tempting."

Riya watches Jack look her up and down, and the Rockette smirks again, and leans back in the chair, showing more of the long line of her body. "We have to keep healthy someway…" She drawls, very coquettish.

With a flick, Jack takes up his rag and returns to rubbing away imaginary spots, though his eyes remain on Riya. "That we do, lass." His basso profundo voice is slow and steady. He chews his lower lip for a long, thoughtful moment as his gaze strays to places that could hardly be called appropriate. "Tempting, indeed."

Riya smiles wryly. "That we do, indeed." She says, her body stretching out luxuriously in the chair. She watches his gaze, and one eyebrow raises idly. "Tempting? Do you… like it?"

"I do." With a self-deprecating twist of his lips, Jack tosses his rag into a laundry bin behind the bar. "Sadly, I've a woman of my own to return to, even if she doesn't choose to see me. A week from now…" he clacks his teeth together playfully. "I may well have changed my mind. You could be puttin' more than your boots on my desk in the back."

Riya leans forward in her chair, grinning very impishly, and very naughtily at Jack. "Well, if she doesn't want you, I think I'll have to remember this place…" She drawls. "That desk of yours sounds very comfortable for a… trip."

Jack tips a roguish wink to Riya, then takes up his glass and empties it. "I've been told it's more than suitable," he replies modestly. "And now you know where to find me."

Riya stands, and pushes her chair back in, then grins impishly. "I'll remember it from now on." She says, warmly. "Can I bring a few friends next time?

Jack bobs a nod and drawls, "I do love a bit o' good scenery. The more the merrier, though I can't promise I'll be after buyin' drinks for your friends as well," he teases.

Riya teases, "Next time it might be harder to get me in that back room of yours." She drawls idly.

"Mmm. I'll take my chances," Jack rumbles. "Besides, I think you'll find I can be very persuasive, when the mood suits." Grinning cheekily, he strokes a thumb along his stubbled jaw.

Riya smirks idly. "Indeed you will." She says, shaking her head. "Maybe next time, you won't have something stopping you, etiher…"

Jack lets out a rolling chuckle. "Look at it this way, Ri. If I was your fella, at least you know I'd be a loyal one. I should think it speaks highly of me that I can't be tempted away, even by such a fine slice of strange as yourself."

Riya giggles back, as she heads for the door. "True, Jack. You must have a fine lady, if you love her so much you're so faithful." Sh epauses at the doorway, then turns, profile framed: "Next week, then?"

Jack winces. "Please, don't use the 'L' word. I'm too young to die." Then he winks and tosses a lazy wave. "Next week, though you're welcome to stop by and tempt me again sooner."

Riya grins. "Love, love love." She sings, not offtune, actually. "I'll think about it…" She drawls, before she continues her way out the door.

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