2010-07-05: Swashbuckling



Date: July 5, 2010


Adam's nearly-drunk recruitment attempt fails; puns ensue.


Midtown East - Fly By Night Cocktail Bar

Elle has been at a bit of a loss - understatement - since her powers went poof, but she's been trying her best to take Claire's advice and live life like a normal person. And what do normal people do? Well, they drink. Elle's experience with liquor is limited, but she's experimented enough to be able to enjoy drinking. (That is, she can now hold alcohol down.)

So it's to Fly By Night that the blonde goes out to with plans to unwind, taking a slow sip of the Cosmopolitan in her hand as she perches on a black leather couch. Blue-grey eyes watch the flow of people talking, drinking, dancing, as evening descends into night.

Eclipses, especially total solar eclipses, are pretty damn rare. There's been only a few handfuls of them in Adam's (very) long lifetime. One of them started this whole crazy long life, and the last one? Well, it seems like the Highlander is back to being mortal. How, exactly, did he figure this out? It's certainly something more interesting than being shot with a half-dozen arrows…

Downside of rapid cellular regeneration? Your liver can work super super efficiently, and that means you can't get drunk. But here he is, standing at the bar - leaning over it really - while waiting for his next drink. Something adequately, snobbishly British: a gin and tonic, heavy on the gin, light on the tonic, a single lime wedge. He's not exactly drunk, but he's a little looser than normal. Spinning around, he spots a blonde he hasn't seen in…well, a while. Hopefully she doesn't greet him this time the way she did last time - traditional medicine has limited cures for severe electrical burns.

Elle's eyes continue to roam the crowds, enjoying her respite of people-watching. It's soothing to watch people laugh, flirt, yell, talk, and otherwise interact without anything needed on her part. Finally, though, her gaze lingers on a somewhat familiar face: one Adam Monroe.

A single blonde brow is cocked in his direction, and she tilts her head, unsure if he's seen her or not. Experimentally, she lifts her half-full martini glass in the air, the gesture aimed at Adam. Her expression is slightly sardonic, but not overtly hostile. It seems something - perhaps the drink - has smoothed the edges of her temper.

Like a deer in the headlights, Adam freezes when he spots her. A moment passes when he looks at her - over her, really. Then he starts to smile, a lopsided thing, while raising his glass in her direction. Never one for subtlety, he beelines for the couch, and takes a seat right next to her. Rather than perch, he sinks down into the thing with gusto, letting the leather creak and shift.

"Well, hello there stranger!" he calls out, maybe a tiny bit slurred. Being drunk is a sensation he hasn't had in…well, not since before Elle was born. "You aren't out charging batteries right now, are you?"

Both of Elle's eyebrows go up as Adam joins her, and further up as she realizes that he's teetering on the edge of tipsy. "Why hello," she manages to keep her cool long enough to greet him, her eyes going up and down his body in assessment, turning her body towards him. "You're drunk," she states the obvious in a semi-calm voice. "I didn't know you could get drunk. And, to answer your question, no." Elle leaves it at that - she's not about to delve into the whole eclipse thing if he's not.

"I'm not drunk. I'm just…not sober," he replies, hoping beyond hope that his dashing smile will be the end of that line of conversation. "Eclipse turned things off…for people like us I mean. Just like way back when it turned everything on." By way back when, he means 1671 for him. "What's that? A cosmo?" By sticking two fingers in her drink and taking a sample, he answers that question himself. "Yup…cosmopolitan."

Elle's look of horror is almost comical. No, it's not Adam's comment about the eclipse - this is information she already has, though his take on it might be rather interesting. However, that's not what she's focused on. He'd stuck his fingers in her drink!

"You're really not sober," she finally has the words to comment, and glances down at her now-sullied drink with disdain. "Why don't you finish this off," Elle says, pressing the stem of the martini glass into his hand, and signaling a waitress to bring another drink to her. Her attention turns back to Adam. "Why the need to get trashed?"

"Why not the need to get trashed?" Picking up girls 101: repeat everything they say, or rephrase their questions as other questions to make conversation. Or something. It sounds reasonable enough in Adam's mind at this point.

The offer of alcohol is met with eager eyes, and he readily accepts, tossing down the drink with a practiced swig. Even the wince and the little headshake after is normal. What's not normal is how it's making him feel so warm and chatty. "So sorry," he says, whipping out a stack of bills to pay for her next drink. "That was," hiccup. "Rude of me."

"You're cut off," Elle tells Adam sternly. "He's cut off," she tells the waitress that comes over with a fresh Cosmo and takes Adam's offered money. "Any more alcohol and you'll regret it later. You'll probably still regret it later. It's probably been quite a while since you've gotten a hangover, I'd wager."

Why Elle cares is anyone's guess; it must be part of her whole new-side-of-a-leaf thing. Or the this-is-her-third-Cosmo thing. Her own brain is becoming slightly fuzzy as she sips her fresh drink, keeping it pointedly out of his reach. Sure, she could keep alcohol down now, but she was still rather a lightweight. Elle begins to giggle.

"Yeeeeeeeearrrrrrrrrs," he confirms to her, with a grin and a nod. "It's not bad though. Centuries and centuries without a hangover is pretty good, you have to admit. I'm due!" He leans back in the couch and admires her for a while.

"What is it you're doing for work now, anyway? In fact, what did you ever do for work to begin with?" Adam suddenly realizes that, though he's had run-ins with Elle a few times before, he doesn't really know much at all about her. Well, except that she's pretty good looking. And that she likes cosmos.

"Which means centuries and centuries with no practice. You're going to be miserable when you wake up." Elle's tone is wry, and while her giggles have stopped, her face is still slightly crinkled in a smile. She chuckles softly at his clearly admiring gaze, and does her best not to preen under it.

"Nothing, at the moment." Elle's smile fades. "I'm currently unemployed. I have savings and… inheritance," she seems to have trouble with that word, "But I'll need to find a job eventually. Problem is, most of the things I can do can't really go on a resume." Elle shrugs, then leans back into the couch, taking another sip of her drink. "What about you?"

"Same boat as you…bigger savings, bigger inheritance though." Like, taking insurance out on yourself and then 'dying,' and all variety of morally unscrupulous methods of generating money. It's her mention of having skills that can't rightly go on a resume that gets him sitting up a little straighter on the couch now, looking a little less sloshed.

"You know…I have a job right now that has a pretty high value for those types of skills. Assuming we ever get them back, you know. It might very well be something you'd excel at, right from the start." He's on the border of steepling his fingers as he thinks on it.

Elle raises an eyebrow at him, a trifle suspicious. "Oh, yes? And exactly what job is that, then? Not something with the Company or one of its spin-offs?" Adam's expression makes her instincts tug at her tipsy brain ever so slightly, and she eyes him warily. "What exactly are you offering?" Her own brain starts to sober up slightly as she turns her attention fully to him.

"No…not with the Company. Nothing to do with the Company, in fact. It's…a very old, independent business. A coalition, more than anything else. Business-minded individuals that need street smarts to make big profits. Of course, the profits filter down…and there's plenty of opportunity for advancement." That part comes with the high rate of employee turnover associated with, you know, mob street violence. Being able to electrocute people and having Company training is a great asset for Elle though!

Elle's eyebrow has yet to go down, and her gaze is even more suspicious. "What's this coalition called, then? And what kind of job would I be entering into?" It sounds rather sketchy to Elle, even in her tipsy state. Her eyes don't leave him as she takes a sip of her drink, letting the flavors flow over her tastebuds as she waits for Adam's reply.

"It's called The Coalition for the Advancement of Japanese-American Businesspersons." Sounds official enough, right? And that's totally off the cuff! Really, it's the Yakuza, the Japanese mob here in New York…thanks to Adam's own suggestion. That too was off the cuff, though the stakes were a little higher that day. He had to suggest it to keep his danged head! "It's a group headed by one of the shrewdest, smartest women I've ever had the pleasure to meet."

"Odd, I've never heard of it.. or anything like it." Elle is beginning to sober up slightly, or maybe the part of her that always keeps sober, wary, and aware is coming to the forefront. "I'm beginning to think you're having me on, Mr. Monroe." Her voice is cool as she takes another sip of her drink, her eyes on his face, looking for a tell.

"Okay, okay…you got me. Clearly there's no pulilng the wool over your eyes. It's not exactly a legal operation, and that's why there's a huge profit margin. The job is complicated though by other like-minded individuals of an Irish persuasion who are attempting to make money on the very same market. It's all a very…violent sort of occupation. It's something that people like you and me can do very, very well at." He might be tipsy, Miss Bishop, but he's got a very practiced poker face. No tells there!

Elle furrows her brow at him. Granted, she's not exactly a stranger to the more.. ahem, unconventional walk of life, but she's been trying to keep herself in check as of late. Her mind breaks his words down, rearranging them and analyzing them, trying to find the real meaning.

It takes a few moments for Elle to have an answer, for the alcohol has made her brain sluggish, but finally there's a click. "Adam, are you telling me you're a mobster?" Her voice is only a hiss, careful for no others to overhear.

"I am, in fact, a moster. Doesn't it just sound so dashing? Like modern day privateer or something!" More on the 'or something' side of things, but he's grinning at least, finding humor in his own words, even if she doesn't. "Isn't that a perfect occupation?" There are ulterior motives and mitigating circumstances, however.

Elle resists the urge to bury her face in her hands and laugh. The whole situation seemed a bit ludicrous, and the drink in her made the urge for a gigglefit all the stronger. "Yes, yes, dashing, I'm sure. You're really one of a kind, you are. Perfectly ideal occupation… soon, everyone will want to be one." A giggle gets the best of her, and then she's laughing, unable to stop.

"I'm not asking everyone. Just you. You could be a real star. Positively…dazzling. Shockingly effective." And so forth and so on with the electrical puns, ad nauseam. She seems to be getting drunker by the moment, and he seems to be…well, not getting any drunker. His drinking has stopped now as he's hit a real lead here for the big boss lady and his promise to recruit a few more folks like him. Whether or not they're currently capable of doing anything…well, that doesn't make much of a difference to him!

"And electrically not interested." No, it's not the best electrical pun Elle has - and believe me, she's got quite a repatoire of them - but she's still recovering from her giggle fit. "I appreciate you singling me out and everything, but I'm trying to walk the straight and narrow. You know, legitimate, above-board living." He probably doesn't know, really.

"Now see, if it were me, I'd have gone with the old, 'that job's AC and I'm DC' analogy. Or something with magnetism and charges. Does that even count as part of the electical pun family? I don't know. These sorts of things weren't around when I was in school afterall." Of course, neither had gun rifling and the sorts of potent chemically-altered narcotics that make up a lot of mob business. That hasn't stopped him so far!

Elle can't help but grin at Adam's boisterous attitude; her rejection hasn't seemed to phase him at all. "I'm not sure if the latter would count, but I think a good - or, as is judged in the world of puns, hideously bad - pun could be made an exception. Like, 'that job repels me'." Her chuckle is genuine now, and not part of the drink. "Hell, I didn't go to school, so we're about even." Indeed, Elle had been tutored for most of her school life.

"There is a lot of money to be made in that field though. And you get to do whatever you like, so long as it's promoting their goals. I mean, anything you really want. I'm sure that no matter the trouble you might get into, if you make yourself important enough, they'll come bail you out." Oh, did he mention you could do anything? Like zap whoever, whenever, wherever?

Elle's lips twist to the side, and she shakes her head. "Again, I appreciate the offer, but I should at least try this new way of living before reverting to my old ways. I'll keep your offer in mind, though." She settles back against the black couch, the leather creaking as she put weight on it. "Shall we have another round of drinks?"

"Sure, why not! I've got all night to drink, nowhere to be, and this pesky lack of tolerance to alcohol!" That idea, at least, seems to be a good one. Settling back into the couch himself, he holds up a finger to summon the waitress back over. One more gin and tonic, and one more cosmo, coming up - the first of many?

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