2007-05-10: Why Can't We Be Friends

Starring:

Jack_icon.gif Nathan_icon.gif Trina_icon.gif Gene_icon.gif Elena_icon.gif Jessica_icon.gif Elle_icon.gif Eric_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Guest Starring:

Jamal and Virginia Drunk

Summary: In which, among other happenings, Jack has varied company, Gene and Elena order the lamest drinks ever, Nathan is confused as usual, and Jessica and Elle clash … again.

Date It Happened: May 10th, 2007

Why Can't We Be Friends?


Den of Iniquity, Brooklyn, NYC

It's Saturday night, and business is booming at the Den. In addition to Jack, a second bartender and a cocktail waitress are bustling about, pouring shots and opening beers. 'Somethin' Else' by the Sex Pistols is blaring on the jukebox, and every pool table is crowded with both players and spectators.

The Irishman Himself looks a little worn out, though that could just be from keeping up with weekend business. He's currently taking a moment to quaff a great deal of bourbon from a half-full water glass, which he sets next to the bar's ice chest after smacking his lips with satisfaction.

Future Senatorial candidate possibly getting in one last night of debauchery? Maybe! Those who recognise him might assume this, anyway, and it's only a /little/ true. The place is a touch more crowded than Nathan would like, but maybe that's for the best, anyway, and he makes his way towards the bar. He's dressed down for the occasion, as one might expect - it's the weekend and it's a dive bar, after all - which perhaps helps being inconspicuous, probably a good idea. Especially seeing as his first order of the night is a Jack Daniels.

'You can *not* keep doing this,' Trina tells herself, even as she walks through the front doors of the Den. The gas alone is murder. And it's Saturday. Tip night. She should be working, not skipping out to go play at a rival bar all the way in friggin' *BROOKLYN*. However, reason finds little place in her arguments back and forth with herself. That leaves her here, sashaying over to the bar in her baggy cargo jeans, black boots, and black tank top with multiple fake silver necklaces dancing against her torso.
Without a word, Trina bides her time, eventually finding her way onto a stool with a sweet smile and coy sway. And who says chivalry is dead? Phase I, Operation Stalker: Complete. Strategic location acquired.

"Hey Jamal, what's up?"
"Not much, Sucklips. What's your not-so-legal-to-drink ass doing back here?"
"……..Suck…lips?"

Jamal just grins.

"Oh my god he told you, didn't he?"
"He torments you because he loves you."

Elena GROANS, and steps through the door.

The bouncer knows her face by now, Elena flashing him a small smile as she steps inside the bar and rakes back her hair with her fingers. Her hair is tousled around her face, indicative that she probably just rolled off a couch or something and threw on some clothes before venturing outside. A fitted, black jacket is thrown over a baby t-shirt, with the collar cut a little wider by a pair of scissors. It's a t-shirt with a stenciled George W. Bush on it, with the words 'Bet You'll Vote This Time, Hippie!' right in the front. She's also got on a pair of slim-fit, hip-hugging jeans, and a pair of worn sneakers.

The dark contents of the glass are given a long stare by the figure of the bar, as if trying to understand the deep mysterious of life within the content of the glass. Sadly, there are none to be found, only the hope that by downing another drink that his inhibitions continue to crumble and with that, he can have the illusion of true freedom.

"Hey Hey! I'm talking to you!" Gene calls out with a sloppy wave toward the waitress. His hand bears the mark of the underaged, the black X marking on his hand showing he's 18 or over, enough to go into most bars, but not enough to drink. Regardless if she comes or not, he begins to talk as if she's right there. "…So, as I was saying, my grandfather says I need to be more aggressive, and try and get a girl. I'm like 'I'm in mortal damn danger half the time, but not even in the cool James Bond way'. And he's like 'Good, because you shouldn't be sleeping around' and I'm like 'I don't sleep around because Jesus is my homeboy and stuff'. Wait, I shouldn't be talking about the inner being of my life until I have at least one more Roy Rogers. No, make that TWO." If the waitress isn't around, he calls out to the bartender, "TWO ROY ROGERS!"

Does the young inventor know that Roy Rogers are, in fact, mixed virgin drinks? Who knows. If he doesn't, it's unlikely that the bartender will remind him, considering he's already pulled up quite the tab. Gene is drinking to get drunk… So it might be quite a bit longer.

The door marked 'PRIVATE' opens at the back of the Den and — perhaps ironically, if not befittingly — it's from between the mirrors that line the wall emerges none other than the alter ego of Niki Sanders. Who is, notably, not an employee, but was certainly in there long enough that some of the patrons wouldn't have seen her at all — until now. Unlike certain visitors of Jack's lovely dive bar, she is not what you'd call "dressed down", either, unless one means that in the most literal of terms involving the removal of clothing. Jessica has been particularly active, these past few days; days that are urging on to weeks, and as such? She's looking a little more Jessica. The blonde who strides out of the back is dressed in black: sleeveless shirt with flecks of silver beading, a black miniskirt with a thick belt, and tall spike-heeled boots with the shine of vinyl. Halfway to the bar, she stops. She sees some familiar faces. She smiles. "Hmh." And then, she makes her way around the bar - to Jack's side. That's right. The oh-so-exclusive behind-the-bar area, as if she belongs there. Understatement: Jessica is brazen. "Who said I was done with you, Irish?"

Jack tugs his grey t-shirt straight, centering the cartoonish print of a mime hanging himself with an invisible rope emblazoned across the front. Then he dusts his hands off on his jeans and spins around, ready to serve drinks once again. A tray of shots goes out with the waitress, followed by a half-dozen beers opened in quick succession. As he works, he taps one heavy boot in time with the music. Now standing in front of a redhead with a snotty look on her face, he mimics her expression and arms akimbo pose. "I don't give a toss if you piss or go fishing. I'm too busy to mix five shaken cosmos right now. Why don't you fuck off and go to Friday's?" With that he turns his back dismissively.

When Jessica sidles up, the normally-cool Jack can't help but look a little disarmed. "Uh," he replies eloquently, backing up against the bar sink. "I did?"

For the moment, the NPC staff will be handling everyone's drink orders.
Before she could even wave to Jack or say anything to him, the blonde named 'Jessica' accosts her Nuncle at the bar. Elena hesitates - she'd go back there….but she's been warned. While she knows of nice Niki, and never met scary Jessica, she's not about to tempt fate. That and….Jack can take care of himself. No need for her to go jump to his rescue, right…?

She even catches sight of Gene, talking to a waitress. She smiles, and lifts her hand up to wave at the young inventor, and then turns….to start moving for the bar. Oh god. Oh god. What's she doing? There she goes, being incredibly reckless again. She'll just call him over. There's no harm in that, right?

"Nuncle!" she calls from the bar, approaching the side closest to Jack and Jessica and leaning over to grin at him. "It's not even the prime hours and you're popular already? Must be the Luck of the Irish."

And there's his whisky. Whiskey? One of those. Nathan smiles to whomever served him, rather a still figure in the rather lively pub, leaning against the bar and taking very little notice of the sheer amount of people he recognises who, too, decided to show up in Brooklyn tonight. The drink is finished off rather quickly, before he pushes the glass forward, places some money on the counter, and actually takes in his surroundings. Those behind the bar escape his notice, but his gaze does fall on a few people that are definitely familiar. And inspire him to glance over his shoulder to see if he's gotten his refill yet.

Elle comes in…and there's Jessica. One psychoblonde approaches the other, heading towards Jessica, which in turn puts her closer to Jack and Elena. When she gets up close, she comments to Jessica. "Boo." Maybe it's an inside joke.

It's only a few moments into Jack's settling of the little 'snot' that Trina notices him. She has to clamp a hand subtley over her mouth to keep from cackling right there at the bar. Cackling, after all, defeats stalking. …And then, it happens. Jessica comes out of that back room, acting like she owns the joint. At first, Trina's eyes narrow, and then she overtly bristles. Oh, hell with this nonsense. As soon as she can, she waves down one of the girls working the bottles and points her head in the direction of a brown bottle with the all-too-familiar parchment colored label. "Ballantine's. Two fingers. No ice."

Looking down the bar, Trina sees Nathan, standing out as he does in his stillness. However, it's his business if he wants to look like his mom's debating shooting puppies down there on this lovely Saturday night. She flicks a smile in his direction and then promptly turns her attention back to the hopefully quick-in-coming scotch.

Gene continues to drink his non-alcoholic beverage for the night, merely looking over at the action taking place right across from the bar he's at. Considering the crowded nature of the bar, he doesn't yet notice the political powerhouse he 'saved' awhile ago. He hears Elena's shout, but by the time he turns around, he doesn't see her. Maybe he was just hearing things The Roy Rogers must be finally kicking in. Either way, he turns back around to the bar to notice not only Jessica, but Elle two. There are two hot blondes working at this place. At the same time? "This place must be like Coyote Ugly or something," Gene offers, acting like he unknowingly stepped upon (un)holy ground.

Jessica gives the bartender a sideways smirk and a glimmer of a look that says: 'that's not how it works, pal'. But instead of, say, disemboweling him over something so trivial as doing his job, she leans against some piece of important bar equipment. The way she stands there, arms crossed - it's casual. Maybe even friendly, with Jack, at least, if you use your imagination. After Elena shouts out whatever the hell name she just called Jack, the blonde tips her head up to him. "You just keep thinking about your magic tricks." And then, in what her expression belies as unfortunate, there's Elle. She pushes up, ever-so-slightly, out of her casual lean behind the bar, bristling a touch at the other blonde. "What do you want?" Multi-tasking, she leisurely pours a shot of Jack Daniels, encroaching on Jack and the actual employees' territory all the more - so that she can slide it down to future Senator Petrelli. With a sly wink.

"Right. Lucky me," is Jack's wry reply to Elena. Visibly relieved to be rescued by his young compatriot, he doesn't even tease her before he fixes Jessica with a glare. Now that he's had a moment to regain his composure he addresses the blonde more forcefully. "You. Get out from behind here. In case you hadn't noticed, it's Saturday night and I'm trying to work."

It's then that he spots Trina and a familiar, crooked grin spreads across his face. "Don't make me have you removed," is his final warning to Jessica as he waves in the bouncer's general direction. Little does he know, poor Jamal wouldn't stand a chance. Then he moves to stand in front of Trina. Without a word, he waves off the other employees and pours her drink himself. He slides it over, along with a face-down Polaroid photo.

It worked! …for now. Elena grins over at Jack from where she stands, and blinks as two blondes square off behind the bar. While Niki/Jessica is familiar - the other one, she has absolutely no idea. They seem to know each other though, and by Jessica's tone, they're not exactly on friendly terms. So instead, she pushes away from the bar as Jack seems to be busy with Trina. He's busy, and she'll talk to him when the bar empties out a little later, so after getting a Shirley Temple from another bartender (zomg how lame), she takes her non-alcoholic drink and moves over to where Gene is, resting her hand on his head in a friendly fashion. "Howdy, stranger," she says with a grin. "What are you doing here?" It's relieving to see him out and about though, she was afraid they really did cage him in the Lancaster building.

Trina's glance to Nathan earns her an equally quick, if a little forced smile. It's a fleeting gesture between them before both are turning back to their drinks, Nathan gratefully picking up his glass, with a nod of acknowledgment to— oh /god/. "Niki," he says, without thinking, clearly surprised. He really dislikes getting surprised. "You—" Hey look, Jack Daniels. Nathan sort of lifts his glass in a cheers to her before partaking in a good long sip. "Don't let me keep you, it's a busy night." Because clearly she must legitimately work here, right? He has no reason to think otherwise! Everyone shows up everywhere anyway, nowadays.

Look! More people that might or might not be recognized!

Walking in the door, it seems that Eric Walker has decided to come meet his own frineds for a night on the town. Dressed down in his jeans, t-shirt, and black leather jacket, the young man glances around the bar and then blinks once. Then blinks again, then his face breaks into a smile and he raises a hand. "Elena! Jack!" He calls over the head of the crowd to get their attention before his eyes sweep along the rest of the bar and he blinks once more. He raises his arm to wave at Gene too. Might as well make it a party. Now he dosn't quite note the explosion brewing at the bar, or the fact that Nate is there too…but he'll focus in on it eventually. Right now his friends have his attention.

Elle smiles back at Jessica. "Information. And since we're supposed to make nice, why don't we sit down and have a lovely little talk on a couple things?" Bob said don't -kill- each other. That still leaves LOTS of options. "We don't want things to get…rowdy. Some of us have more to lose than others." Her tone is very sweet and polite. Even if she isn't.

When the drink gets set in front of her, Trina's gaze flicks over to Jessica. Did she miss something? And then the photo's set down. She blinks with the bewildered smile of the confused for a moment, slowly turning it face up. Her reaction is as transparent as a Tennesee mountain lake on a summer afternoon, every inch of it lighting up. 'Twould seem Jack's found the way to get her from feeling entirely threatened to entirely giddy in mere seconds. He's… he's so *sweet*. Biting her lip for a moment, she presses the polaroid to her collarbone. "…When did you *do* this?" Suddenly everything's high octane sunshine.

Jessica does not take well to orders, but making a scene would just throw a wrench into her plans, and so she does the next best thing: she returns Jack's glare, but smiles with a secretive little twist. Meaning… he'll probably pay for those logical but harsh words, in some way, down the line. Before she budges an inch, however, she hears out Elle with a look of distinct impatience — /then/ she stalks around the bar to its proper side. "I don't work here," she tells Nathan in a low, flat voice as she passes behind him. Glowering darkly at Elle, she says, "Make it quick," and she heads for a suitably gloomy, smoky corner.

Having produced the desired effect with his little present, Jack ducks his head sheepishly at Trina's praise. "This afternoon. I felt inspired to do somethin' artsy, y'know." He pulls another glass from under the bar and pours himself a glass of scotch as well. Wait. Jack's drinking scotch? "So. It's good to see you." It's a small gesture, but he reaches out to brush his fingertips against the back of her hand.

When Eric arrives, the Irishman lifts his free hand in a lazy wave, both to him and to the bouncer. "He's ok to come in. Look, it's, Nearly Male. Go get those two and bring 'em up here, yeh?" He gestures to indicate Gene and Elena.

Gene blinks as he finds Jessica and Elle talking with one another. Huh, this isn't looking like they are BFF or even coworkers. Because he can muse their relation any further, he finds Elena's hand on his shoulder. "Hey, didn't expect for you to be here. I'm just taking in the bar moody thing. Figured it was better than playing Halo." He notices Eric's voice too, hrmming to himself. "…You guys follow me?" he offers, only considering they are his 'friends', there isn't a hint of the usual paranoia that comes with questions like that.

…okay. Nathan watches Niki— because as far as he knows, that's who she is— leave, eyes narrowing when he sees that there's an Elle in the house as well, but he doesn't draw her attention. Busy night, indeed. He's tempted to knock back his drink, as he's never been very good at playing coy with drinking, but he does instead do the responsible thing and slow down. Holding his glass in hand, Nathan leans his back against the bar, now spotting an Elena and a Gene, only knowing the name of the former. He might have even gone to join them, in a moment of impulsiveness, but then he remembers he's over twice their age, and that would be weird. So. He remains where he is, for now, doing the people-watching thing.

Hell. Elle was happier before Jessica brought Nathan into play here. Because if she has to get nasty, she'd as soon her boyfriend's brother wasn't seeing it. She offers a faint smile to him as she passes. "Hey, Nathan. Sorry for my friend Jessica. We've just got some business to discuss." she says as she walks by, following Jessica. It's as much warning as she can give him, and she pitches her voice just a bit louder, to make sure he hears her. Of course, that means other people might hear her, too. She sits next to Jessica. "Where's the painting?" she asks.

"Well I'm glad to see you out and about in the city at the very least. How are you doing?" Elena asks, taking a sip of her drink. When a familiar voice calls her out, she grins and looks up, her expression brightening as she sees Eric. "Eric!" she calls back, giving him a wave. "You mind if I join you?" she asks Gene, remaining standing - she's polite as always, even if she is a buddy. She doesn't know Gene very well - not yet anyways, something she wants to change, so she doesn't know whether he went to the Den to be alone or what. Maybe work went badly today? Her eyes can't help but wander over to Jessica and Elle, though more on the former than the latter.

Eric rolls his eyes slightly. "Nearly Male…do you /have/ to use /that/ name Jack?" He calls out towards the bartender before he shakes his head and starts to eel his way towards the table where Gene and Elena are talking together. He smirks though as he closes the distance to the table. "No I'm not following you…but its good to see you two here." As he gets there though he gives Elena a warm smile before he smirks. "Apparently I'm supposed to drag you back over to save Jack from something." He says as he leans against an empty chair next to the two. "But I'm perfectly comfortable to abandon him to his fate after he called me that again."

The tiny muscles around Jessica's blue eyes tense when Elle addresses Nathan. That's… curious. As she slides into a seat soon to be joined by the other blonde, she's also thinking about Mr. Bishop's phrasing, the no kill rule; it leaves options open. Lots of options. Bloody options. She has a daydreamy sort of hate in her eyes as Elle asks the question, just enough steel in them to let the other blonde know she is, in fact, paying attention. "From the bookstore?" She's not playing stupid; she's just slightly incredulous. "It's a piece of crap." Eyebrows raise, as if skeptical. "You know that, right?"

In the background, the jukebox kicks over to War - Why Can't We Be Friends?

"Been better, been worse," the dark haired 'hero' replies to Elena with a small smile. "You can join me no problem, take a seat," he offers cheerfully as he gets up. As he does, he notices that there is Nathan P here as well. Clearly it was destiny that he came here tonight or something.

"Was hoping to run into him again," Gene offers as he leans over the bartable, taking out his wallet to take out a business card. It has Gene Kensington on the first line, a blank line where one's position would be, and the location and number for the building that he works at. Pulling away the wallet, he soon takes out his keys, which has a mini-pen on one of the keychains, nestled between the 'Caution - I know Karate and six other works in Japanese', and the Death Star. Writing 'Go here during the hours of 9am - 10am when you have time. Ask for me at the front desk.' Why does he want to talk to Nathan? He has his reasons, but most people talking to Nate do. Once, he's done with that, he gives Elena and Eric an "I'll be right back" before walking over toward the man, just trying to get his attention with a simple "Hey" in order to hand him the card for him to read. Assuming he gets it, Gene will give him a weak smile and a nod before starting to move back toward the other people close to his age. Gene has no idea what's up with the pictures, just figuring that the blondes merely enjoy their art.

Hey! It's Nathan Petrelli! Pleased to see that a handful of friends have found their way to his establishment, Jack slides down a few feet to tap the politician on the shoulder. "Hey. What's shakin', Nate Dogg?" With a nod of his head, he indicates the free stool next to Trina. "Scootch up, I'll buy your next round." The arrival and departure of Gene doesn't go unnoticed, but it only earns a briefly raised set of eyebrows.

Elena, Gene, and Eric seem content to stick together in the corner, which is fine with Jack after all. If they're together, it'll be easier for him to keep an eye on them. Drunken, Irish Mother Hen, anyone?

"Gene, where are y—" Elena blinks as the young inventor slides out of the booth and walks to the bar so he could speak with…..former Congressman Petrelli? What's he doing -here-? She hasn't seen him since the disaster over his wife. She watches the older Petrelli for a time, but she doesn't interrupt him or Gene. Instead, she moves over, providing Eric more space to join them. She leans over and murmurs softly. "We need to talk," she tells him quietly, turning her head to meet his eyes. "And…I don't know why but Gene wants to talk to Mr. Petrelli for some reason. He mentioned it when he drove me home the other day." Her eyes wander to the young Kensington curiously, taking a contemplative sip of her Shirley Temple. Seeing Jack's eyes wandering over to them. She gives him a broad grin. Yes, nuncle. The kids are fine and behaving.

It's the little things. Leaning forward, Trina mens her legs so as to sit there with knees pointed at each other. After slipping the photo into her back pocket, the dark haired young woman picks up her scotch and takes a long, pensive sip. Once she's swallowed the amber liquid, she sets the glass back down. Unaware of brewing problems, she laughs. "It's totally goin' on my frige at home, Sugar."

Then she turns her head towards the politician to whom Jack offered a round with a shrug of her shoulders. "I promise I don't bite."

Elle looks back to Jessica, somewhat scornfully. "I -might- expect Niki to try the dumb bimbo routine. I don't expect it from you. It's a Mendez, and I need it. Now, where is it?"

Gene's 'hey' gets Nathan's attention, and he turns to look at the young man, rather blindly taking the piece of paper he's given, frowning at it. God, what now? It's a mystery to others why Gene wants to speak to him, and a mystery to Nathan to. Not one to let mysteries lie, he starts to try and grab the mostly-stranger's attention, but then… N-Nate Dogg. What, Jack. Oh, hi Jack. The bar-owner only gets an incredulous look from Nathan for that one, the politician blinking and holding the card he was given, before it's slipped into his pocket. He glances now towards where Gene is making his way back towards Elena, before letting it go. For now. He moves to sit down where Jack gestures, nodding to Trina. "I'll believe you," he tells her, dryly, before finishing off his whiskey real quick in order to gain that promised round. "Interesting company this place keeps," he says now, to Jack, tilting his head towards Niki and Elle.

Grinning at Trina's pleasure, he leans over the bar and snags a kiss. "She's lyin' about bitin'," he remarks casually to Nathan. "I've got one right here," he points at a spot high up on his ribcage. "I think it's gonna make a lovely scar."

Following Nathan's line of sight, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to discern that he's talking about the two bristling blondes. From the grim set of his mouth and the lines that crease his brow, it's evident that he doesn't like what he sees. "Only kiddin', she's a lovely girl. Trina, Nate. Nate, Trina." The introduction is absent-minded at best, as Jack's girlfight radar is redlining. As much fun as that sounds like, in a crowded bar it could get messy.

"…I don't know why he wants to talk to Petrelli either…" Eric says as he frowns slightly before he shrugs slightly. "…lets just see how this goes down eh?" He asks with a smile towards Elena as he slides into a chair next to her. Yes though, they are being just fine Jackie boy. The pair of them are just people watching. Not noting the problems that might just begin to surface between the pair of girls. "What are you doing here anyway?" He asks of Elena before he blinks. "…and…Nuncle?"

If Elle's words are razorblades, Jessica is a taut elastic band that is snapped. Sliding close as can be to angle her face down toward Elle's, in /no/ way appreciating the dig at Niki, her eyes narrow. Danger, danger! "In safekeeping," she murmurs harshly, through grit teeth; under the table, one of her hands tries to swipe Elle's, and it's not for a cute bout of hand-holding. "Like you said - it's a Mendez. It must be worth something."

"I wanted to see how Jack was doing," Elena murmurs, though her dark eyes land on the two blondes in the corner - since their booth was close to theirs. Whatever they're talking about, it looks tense. Too bad she can't hear anything. "Last I spoke to him…" Was that embarrassing moment about the dream. "….he was in the shop with Julia." Julia? She grins a little bit when Jack sneaks a kiss on Trina across the bar. About time. Ah, young badass love. "But looks to me he's doing just fine these days." She offers Eric a sip of her pink, non-alcoholic, totally non-fratboy type drink. "Wanna sip?" Her eyes wander over, once Gene makes his way towards them yet again.

Gene makes his way back to the table, giving a simple "I'm back!" to the two before he takes a seat is there's one around. If not, he has no problem standing. One of those unaware of trouble in the Den, he just sips his Roy Rogers with his back to the bar.

Elle looks annoyed and yanks a hand back a bit…and then anyone bothering to pay attention to the two blondes might catch sight of a bright -flash- from under the table. "Behave." she says, icily, as she sends a short-range electroblast at Jessica. "Daddy wants it back at the store." And as far as she's concerned, that's the end of that particular story.

Good grief. He is, like, the cutest thing ever! The kiss is easily taken from Trina, who then lingers in her spot for a moment with a pleased purr. But then there's an introduction made.
Taking a moment to run her right hand down the faded fabric of her pants leg to ensure no sweatiness, Trina quickly twists in her seat and casually throws it in Nathan's direction with a bright smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Nate."

Girlfight? What girlfight? As far as Nathan knows, Niki is a rather sweet blonde who… has super strength and carries guns with her on occasion and tries to blackmail and kill him sometimes. But that's ancient history. Either way, Nathan's focus has shifted from the two blondes, as he holds out a hand to take Trina's in greeting, when Jack makes vague introductions, that arm crossing over the other as he's unwilling to not take his drink when it's being pushed towards him by, well, probably someone. "Likewise," he says.

He starts to say more, but there's a flash of light, heading turning towards where he saw it out the corner of his eye. WHAT. CAMERAS? No cameras. That's cool then. Nathan sips his whiskey. He's not very perceptive today.

"Welcome back then Gene," Eric replies as he nods towards him before he hrrms a moment. "…and yeah, that’s about what I thought as well…though he looks to be doing just fine." A glance towards the pair in the corner before he raises one eyebrow and blinks. "…er…though I might have spoken too soon." He murmurs even before he reaches before he reaches out to snag the drink and pull it over. "…what is it?" Besides girly. Though he'll only drink a sip before passing it right back on over. See. He's being a good boy. No hard drinks. "…and ah…well I suppose that works for Jack."

Jessica's hand slams on the seat, and her unseen fingers clench its edge as an electrical current runs through her body - a stifled shout follows the flash of light. The woman jolts upright, arching her back, as the electricity - and pain - runs its course. The bout of torture takes its toll, and she blinks several times in suffering succession, but when she opens them, to look severely at Elle, she's smiling. Disturbing, that - but probably not to the blonde sociopath sitting next to her. Biting down on her jaw like a vice, she lets out a low, wrath-filled laugh - make no mistake. It is /on/. … Again. "Do you always listen to your daddy?" There's a certain… twitchiness to her movements, thanks to Elle, when there's another lashing out under the table — this time for Elle's thigh in a rough grab.

"Uh. Stay here. I'll be back inna sec." Affecting a casual tone, Jack smiles crookedly and vaults over the bar, missing the electrical discharge in the process as he takes his eyes off the pair. Having seen this behavior from the bartender before, the tightly packed patrons part like the proverbial sea as he makes a beeline for the conflict. Ever watchful, Jamal leaves his post at the door and pushes through the crowd to approach from another direction.

"Ladies, ladies. You're both pretty. No need to fight." Jack's voice is pitched low, but from the set of his jaw it's apparent that he'll brook no nonsense at this point. A veteran of many barfights, he knows the only way to keep one from getting out of hand is to nip it in the bud, even (especially) if it involves pretty ladies.

Sipping one from her tumber, Trina swirls it around a little before sipping again. As it gives that beautiful slow burn, she hisses in a breath between her teeth. Scotch is a beautiful, beautiful thing and the concentration on that glass is what makes it so that she is *entirely* unaware of what's slowly gaining more and more of the attention… until Jack leaves. Well! That's okay. She's got someone to talk to now! "You a regular?" The question posed to Nathan is accented by a tilt of her head, dark hair spilling over one mostly bare shoulder.

Not noticing the exchanging going behind him, Gene just gives a shrug to Elena. "Just doing some stuff I need to do," the young man replies. "So, miss any exciting conversation in the three seconds I was gone?" His question is clearly not serious as he gets a faint smirk at the end.

Woah, action bartender. Now! Now Nathan is focusing his attention where it counts, watching as Jack moves towards Niki and Elle, and he keeps his eyes trained on them. He doesn't know Elle very well, but he doesn't can't bring himself to trust her not to… throw lightning. Or whatever it is. He's never seen her powers in action, anyway.

"What?" Nathan looks to Trina, and remembers that he was just introduced to her, and is in a conversation with her. Trying to shove the idea of superpowered electricity /lighting up/ a bar fight, as it were, he shakes his head once. "Brooklyn's a little out of my way," he says, now swirling his drink in its glass, absently. "But I figured I'd drop by. No one looks at you sideways if you opt for a real drink."

"Shirley Temple," Elena says sheepishly. Yes. This is the girl who, after sneaking in the bar successfully the second time she met Jack, ordered a -non alcoholic fizzy drink- when she could've gotten away with something stronger. This was, to date, the lamest thing she's ever done but she can't help it. She takes another sip of her glass, her gaze moving over to Jack as he walks over to try and…douse the fire between the two blondes. And while she doesn't want to make things obvious, she fires her ability over - just a bit, in an effort to put a calm touch in both the women's nerves. Unfortunately, she doesn't know they're both psycho and thus need -different- stimuli to get them to ease off. "So what's been up with you two?" she asks Gene and Eric. "Anything fun?"

Elle smiles as she tugs her leg away before Jessica can make with the grabbing. "Now, now, honey. Business before pleasure." she says. "I know D.L. must not keep you satisfied, but I'm not up for grabs." And she moves her -other- leg in an attempt to bump her shin against Jessica's leg, as if giving just a gentle reprimand. Really.

Jack is hit full-force by both ladies' IGNORE IRISHMAN attack. Groaning, he motions to Elle with one finger, indicating to Jamal that he should handle her while Jack attends to Niki. Easier said than done. She's not only a tank, she's his partner in crime. "HEY!" he shouts. "Last warning. I'm not above hitting anyone who can vote."

Jamal is a little less subtle. Stooping down, he throws both arms out to try and wrap both Elle and her chair up in a massive bear hug.

Jessica looks coolly up at Jack with a calm smile. What's the problem, officer? The underlying tension is thick as fog, of course; her blue gaze flashes sharply to Elle. She slides away from Elle by an inch, which results in them just jostling about in their seat, more or less, instead of violence. The state of non-violence is always temporary with these two, however. "We're just having a minor--" You know those tall black boots she's wearing? A spike heel tries to find Elle's foot. *Slam*. "--disagreement."

"It's a *bar*," Trina replies, brow crinkling in confusion. "Why would anyone care what you're ordering? You're a big boy. Tell 'em to fuck off." Then her eyes eventually flick over to where Jack's moving to break up a boiling fight and concern flickers over her features. Oh, well, surely his has it under control. Right? Right.

"…you could have gotten away with something else you know…" Eric replies with a laugh and a shake of his head. He smiles charmingly though towards her. Thats just one of her attractions now that is. That she's just…a good girl. Thats quite attractive it is. However he frowns slightly over towards Elena a moment at the look she's giving that table. "…your trying to interfere arn't you?" Eric murmurs softly towards her before he shakes his head with a wry look. "Nope, just work and thats…well…thats all about it. Nothing fun at all."
"….and…I think that your helping just became /really/ moot…" Eric adds after a moment.

"You'd be surprised about what people care about when you want to run for congress," Nathan states, sparing a fleeting glance to Trina coupled with a wry smile, but the main event is definitely drawing his attention. He has a few options. Either he could, like, /leave/ before trouble really breaks loose, or try and make sure his brother's girlfriend isn't going to do anything too risky, in such a public place. This is one of those What Would Peter Do? moments in life, and Nathan truly hates those. It should be the other way around, but it hardly ever works that way. The third drink of the night is knocked back, drawing a shudder from the politician, and he smiles at Trina. "Excuse me for… one moment." He slides off the stool, and moves on over towards the shenanigans.

Gene is still blissfully unaware of the Battle of the Blondes, so he merely continues to speak toward Eric and Elena. He giving a look at the talk of 'interfere' and so on, cluing him in. He doesn't say much about it. Figuring that the help here can handle two seemingly light weight women, Gene offers a sigh. "Would love to stay and chat with ya guys, but I guess I've done what I needed to do here and need to get back to work." Yes, Gene is actually going to work in the lab in the middle of the night. He really took the idea of 'flex time' to heart, it would seem.

And that would be the point where Jessica slams her spike heel down on Elle's foot. Breaks her foot? If it was only that easy. The spike goes -through- her foot. Through her foot, through her shoe, and to the floor. There is a loud -scream-, that coincides with about the point that Jamal bearhugs her and her chair. And then Elle does what psychotic electroblondes do when they've been stapled to a floor and bear-hugs. She discharges an -AWFUL LOT- of electricity, which is likely to go up Jamal's arm, and quite possibly up Niki's shoe to the rest of her, since she's kind of -in- Elle's foot.

Ah, living in the world of the confused. Trying to think about it, Trina finally gives up. Nope. Doesn't know the face. Must not be that important. For seriously. Who cares about stupid politics anyway? Other than politicians, obviously. As Nathan rises from his seat, the young woman fully turns around and gives her attention to the scene unfolding before her. Watching very, very closely, Trina narrows her eyes into thin, angry slits. Nobody had better break her new boytoy. …And what the…? "What the fuck was that?!" Cue the girl being on her feet.

"I know…" Elena says, glancing towards her glass and smiling a little sheepishly. "But….it interferes too much with my brain if I did. I've never seriously taken a drink before so I probably don't have much of a tolerance." Though she probably COULD use her abilities to keep her not drunk. Still, she doesn't like breaking the law, unless she has to. When gene moves to take his leave, she gives him a small smile. "Later, Gene. Drive safe - there's lots of crazies today."

And speaking of….

Things in the other booth gets serious. Elena's eyes widen when Elle suddenly screams, for some reason. The softhearted side of her starts moving to hit Elle with a painkiller…..until she SHOCKS THE CRAP OUT OF JAMAL ZOMG. She could -see- the electricity discharge from here. Holy crap! Focusing further, she concentrates further, and fires those same, calming urges towards both blondes. This was getting out of hand. With all the alcohol in the place, she doesn't want to risk one of those charges getting near the bar, or Jack, or -anyone-.

"See you around Gene, I have some stuff I want to talk to you about later, but till then take care of yourself!" The youngest Lancaster…er…Walker…replies towards his friend as he gives him a slight wave of one hand. And then he just shakes his head towards Elena, leaning forwards towards her and dropping his voice. "…stop stuttering about it. I like it. Its nothing to be sorry over you know." He murmurs with that soft voice of his. He would be about to follow that up th…something…but then…

Then there’s a light show in the corner…

His head turns towards them and his eyes widen as he suddenly sits up and just has to stare for a moment. "…disregard what I said about not helping. I think your the only way were going to get out of this mess without something really bad happening."

…yeah. No pressure.

Jessica keeps her expression quite composed as her heel slams through Elle's undoubtedly stylish shoes and pins it to the floor — through her foot — save for a dark, vindictive flare that can't help but be released. But it's all very, very short-lived as the petite blonde beside her discharges a blast that has her pulling her boot away without hesitation - namely because she's thrown back off of the chair with a pained shout. On her knees beside it all of a sudden, she's hanging onto it as if trying to stand up already.

When Jessica drives her heel into Elle's foot, the resulting jolt of electricity causes Jamal to grit his teeth nearly to the point of breaking and his eyes bug out of his head. With wisps of smoke trailing from his curly hair, he releases Elle and crumples to the ground.

At this point Jack has had enough. With a snap of his fingers, he relocates the shotgun from under the bar and levels it first at Elle, then at the floored Jessica. It's a curious, four-barreled contraption that looks more than mean enough to get the job done. "Goody gumdrops," he murmurs. This hasn't exactly been a banner day. "Sucklips! Get over there and see if Jamal's still breathin'! And you two," he gestures to the femme fatales with his weapon. "Just sit tight."

She pauses, and Elena looks over at Eric, blinking slightly when Eric leans in and tells her what he does so…well. Seriously. She parts her lips to say something, because a comment like that needs to be responded to - until Jessica's pained -shout- echoes through the Den. She blinks, her head turning to watch as Jessica barks out a shout…and shoots off her chair and drops into the ground. When Jack calls for her to assist, she shoots up. "Wha— Jamal!" she cries, seeing the beefy bouncer sprawled on the ground. Stumbling over Eric, she does what she's asked. She hurries over, dropping on one knee to check Jamal's pulse.

"He's fine, Jack," she says, looking up towards the bartender, and then to the big, beefy black man on the floor. Her other hand reaches out to cup the other side of his head. "He'll be just fine, he's just out." While touching him, she's quietly reducing the shock away from his system to stabilize his body.

Elle doesn't seem like she's all so inclined to argue with the man with the shotgun. In fact, her IGNORE IRISHMAN power is still running, it seems. Not that there's anything to ignore about a shotgun, but at the moment, she's busy leaning down, gasping in pain, and tugging off her shoe, trying to staunch the copious flow of blood coming from what might as well be a bullet hole, only bigger. On the scale of "things to pay attention to", threatening shotgun actually weighs slightly lower than OMFGPAINANDBLOODCOMINGOUTOFMYFOOT.

Trina is left to just kinda stand there, along with a bunch of other patrons. When one drunk starts getting acting like he's gonna go over there for God only knows what reason, she snags him by the collar and yells in his face in order to attempt to dispel her own brand of concern. "What the hell is your problem?! Did you not just see what just happened?!* Dropping his collar, she then goes back to glancing between lots of different places… four in particular: Elena, Jack, Elle, and Jessica. And, oh, hey, watch as she totally makes sure that she is very well to the side of Jack.

The drunken dude rolls his head over to Trina, bleary eyes gaping at her face, and then her chest, and then her face. ….and then her chest again. And then her face again. Finally, he griiiiiiins, drool sliding down the side of his mouth. "Yah got a purdy mouth," is all he says, despite the snagged collar.

Virginia, after all, is within driving distance from New York.

Looking a little worse for the wear, the ends of her wavy hair slightly frazzled, Jessica stands up - but she's still clutching the chair, tightly, perhaps to prevent herself from shaking. She seems unfazed by Jack's gun, giving him just a cursory glance for the time being; it's obviously nothing she hasn't been threatened with before, although she's usually on the other end of the threat. "Next time your daddy wants something, he can tell me himself," she says abrasively down to the young woman on the floor, pushing herself up. The woman holds up a hand to Jack, on the defensive in trying to wind her way /past/ the man with the gun. But she takes her time. Slow and steady.

…..is that blood?

After Elena's dragged Jamal to the side and -away- from the blondes, and shucking her jacket over to roll it as a makeshift pillow to put it right underneath the bouncer's head to keep him comfortable, she keeps a cautious eye on the happenings as Jack levels the shotgun on both women. When Jessica starts moving past, and her eyes riveted more fully on the drops of blood leading to Elle's foot, she glances over to Eric. "Eric….my bag, please?" she says.

Eric nods, keeping quiet, taking up the young woman's back pack and tossing it lightly over to her. She stands up, grabbing the portable med kit inside (she was pre-med after all), and moving over. She gives Jessica a -wide berth-, cautiously keeping her distance from the other blonde as she heads for the Electric Gal. Hopefully, Jack won't shoot her. "Here, let me take a look at that, I volunteer at a hospital," she says to Elle. Psycho or not, she's still hurting. Before she touches her however, she's already remotely taking the pain away from her foot. She's learned the value of subtlety after everything else.

Elle doesn't opt to continue the violence. Because A) Daddy would be unhappy, and B) PAIN!. B rapidly starts to become less of an issue with Elena's power though. She nods to Elena. "Thank you." she says, trying to keep that annoying "crying" tone out of her voice. She's tougher than that! Despite the tears of pain on her cheeks.

Jack keeps the shotgun trained on Jessica until she's well past him. Then he drops his arms and lets the stubby, sawed-off weapon hang at his side. A loud, whooshing sigh of air squeezes out from between his lips. Some night.

Between the progressing fight and the appearance of firearms, most of the patrons have found reasons to suddenly be elsewhere. With Elle no longer a threat, Jack is free to shoo everyone else out.

As the man takes her protective measure as an opportunity to drawl crap at her, Trina's jaw sets and her face becomes otherwise entirely frozen. Why, because she's letting something else do the talking. Her fist curls into a loose ball and then slings upwards in a magnificent crescent right for the guy's jaw. She didn't run all the way from Georgia just to have someone spewing that garbage at her.
As soon as that's done, Trina's hair whips about her face as she quickly looks about to make sure that everyone's looking at CRYBABY ELLE and not at the guy that she TOTALLY DID NOT PUNCH. How did he get on the floor? Trina surely doesn't know! …Just nevermind the fact that she looks guilty as the pit of Hell itself. "***hole," she mutters darkly.

She tries to be as gentle as possible, cradling Elle's foot with her hands and narrowing her eyes on the wound. She won't touch it unless necessary. "You might need stitches," Elena says, feeling blood pool onto her palm from underneath. "It's gone through and through….I can gauze it up for you, though." But she'll at least make it easy for her and make it so she can walk on her bleeding foot to the hospital, or wherever she deigns to get help for it. And then she proceeds to do just that, taking out a length of gauze, some flat, cotton pads, and a small bottle of antiseptic. She'll start disinfecting the wound, and then start wrapping up her foot with deft, nimble fingers. She's used to this, not just because of her education, but the fact that she also had a troublemaking brother.

WHAP. CRUNCH.

Virginia Man is out like a light, on the floor. Trina totally didn't punch him. He just had too much to drink. Really.

The electroblonde looks over to Elena. "I just need some help to get back to my boyfriend." she tells her. Walking on that foot though? That's not gonna happen. Jessica's heel went through muscle, and through -bone-. Not only is there a hole, there's broken and crushed bones in that foot. "I should call him." She rummages for her phone.

Jessica, pointedly, seems to be ignoring Elle and her helper, as well as - well, most everything going on in the bar. It's an illusion, and she's more keyed in to her surroundings than her determined 'I'm leaving now and there's nothing you can do to stop me' demeanor might suggest… not unlike the playing down of the /white hot pain/ she's still feeling the lingering tremors of. "Bitch," she mumbles under her breath. Pot, kettle, blah blah blah. She could really use a drink. On that note? She swipes a glass of abandoned liquor from the bar - Jack Daniels, maybe Nathan's, and downs it in a shot as she makes her way out of the Den.

"You need someone to call you a cab?" Elena says. Despite the trouble she's caused Jack, now that everything seems to have settled down thanks to the practical application of shotgun pointed to head. And….well to be honest, the faster the two leave the bar and Jack and his new girlfriend alone, the better. She has her cellphone in her back pocket. She finishes bandaging up the electroblonde, pulling away finally and stowing the things away in her bag. The pain remains gone - pain that could be easily construed as staying gone because she's in so much pain that her foot's grown numb. It's a vicious cycle. She sneaks a glance towards Jessica's back as she leaves.

The door slams on the last of the random drinkers, and Jack turns around just in time to see Trina floor the leering drunkard with a hefty punch. Chuckling, he crosses to her side and hands his shotgun to the cocktail waitress, who quietly returns it to its place behind the bar. "Nice hit. What'd he do?" he queries as he nudges the man with his toe. He spares a glance for Elle and Elena, but his erstaz niece seems to have things well in hand for the moment.

PHONE: Into her phone, Elle speaks into her phone, with the has-been-crying voice. "Peter? I'm at Den of Iniquity. I need help."

Elena also hands Elle a piece of kleenex to wipe her face with.

PHONE: You overhear Elle saying, "I have a hole in my foot. I don't think I can walk on it." into her phone.

"Sorry," Trina replies, her face screwing up into something akin to a wince. She was really kinda hoping he hadn't seen that. At least Jack doesn't seem mad. When he nudges the guy, she even cranes her neck to see if he moves down on the floor. "Some people just talk too much," she replies after a moment, rubbing her arm with one hand and scratching her scalp with the other. "He alright?"

Elle looks back to Elena. "Thanks…" Thank god for numbness, she thinks. "Can you help me get outside?" she asks Elena. "My boyfriend is going to come get me."

The blonde looks busy on the phone, calling her boyfriend. …..wait. Peter. Blonde. Electricity. Elena blinks - and it clicks. Elle. This was Elle. COMPANY AGENT Elle. Elle who almost killed Cass and Lachlan. Elle who almost burned down EB. Elle who Peter just said is trying to get that list Alyssa has. She turns away, considering the older girl seems to have dismissed her already in favor of getting Peter to pick her up. She packs up the med kit and the backpack up, zipping it. She's about to take her leave….until Elle asks her for help.

Oh.

Shit.

"…..sure," she says, reaching over with her hands. "Just lean on me, okay?"

"He'll be ok," Jack responds after looking the man over. "You guys wanna.. ?" He motions to the other bartender and the waitress, then to the drunk and the door. In response, they work together to haul the man outside. "Some night." He grabs an abandoned pack of cigarettes and some matches off of a nearby table, plugs one into his mouth, and lights it. Sure, he's left Elena with a paranoid schizo, but nobody's perfect all the time.

Elle smiles back at Elena. "Thanks…what's your name?" she asks, looking to her, still holding the phone away from her mouth from the moment to get the info from the other woman.

This would be one of those situations in where she can't lie. Especially if Peter's coming to get her and addresses her by name. "Elena," she tells Elle, calling up some sheer cohones to flash a smile at the crazyblonde's general direction. "You?"
PHONE: Into her phone, Elle takes a long silence as she gets information, then finally answers "I'm going to be out front. A woman named Elena is helping me." She looks back to Elena. "Elle."

"Nice to meet you, Elle," Elena says simply. Please don't torture/maim/kill her. She's shifting her backpack to the side so no one takes it. Besides, Jack will make sure it stays -right- where it is. That way she has both hands are free to help the blonde whenever she's ready.

Between being entirely concerned about covering her own butt and having no friggin' clue who Elle and Elena are, Trina follows behind the group takin' out her garbage. And then Jack lights up one of those abandoned cigarettes. Rolling up onto the balls of her feet, she offers a tight smile. It's the slight discomfort that comes with begging charity. "There doesn't happen to be another one in there, does there?"

You paged Peter with 'She had to give her name in case Peter addressed her by name once they meet outside.'
Elle works to get standing, putting almost all her weight on her good leg, and using Elena as a mobile crutch, leaning heavily on her. The blonde doesn't seem inclined to A) torture, B) maim, or C) kill at the moment, because she's too busy D) hobbling and E) bleeding.

"Yeh, sure." Jack tosses Trina the pack, then brings up the rear as everyone heads for the door. The sight of Jamal's unconcious body is reminder enough to Jack that he should be mindful of whose company he leaves his niece in. Double-stepping, he closes the distance between himself and the pair and lays a reassuring hand on Elena's shoulder.

She watches blood seep through the bandage, Elena wincing a bit. At least her powers are keeping the pain at bay, but it's smart not to walk on it. Thankfully Elle doesn't weigh much, considering how much of a wussy the latina truly was in the strength department. "Ooof…here you go. Up you get," she says encouragingly. She stops when Jack lays a hand on her, and she gives him a reassuring smile, pecking his cheek lightly in a niecely gesture. " 'm okay, Nuncle," she tells him simply. "I just need to get this lil' lady to her man and I'll be back to have a drink with you and your newest and incredibly hot gal," she teases, giving him a wink. With that, she starts helping Elle to the door. The quicker she gets her out of there, the better off -everyone- will be.

Outside of the Den of Iniquity, Brooklyn, New York

Elle hobbles out, leaning heavily on Elena. Her right foot is bare, though bandaged and blood is staining the bandage pretty copiously. "Thank you." she tells Elena. "I really appreciate it."

She ventures out with Elle, one arm securely around the shorter, petite blonde, with her shoe dangling from her other hand. "It's alright," Elena says. "It's no trouble at all - bleeding's not a good thing. The human body's built specifically to -keep- the stuff in." She finds the stomach to jest, despite knowing the fact that she's hanging onto someone who's incredibly dangerous. She pauses. "…did your ….other friend do this to you or was it an accident? This isn't the first time I've seen the other one around, I hear she's a troublemaker."

Elle makes a face. "She's not my friend, she's a thief." she says, sounding vexed at that. "She did it on purpose. Bitch. I was trying to get something she stole back from her."

She looks around busily, finding a bus stop bench nearby. "C'mon, over there," Elena says, gesturing so she could steer Elle to that direction, and helps her take a seat once reaching it. Would be easier on both of them. Taking a seat on the other end, she looks over at the blonde. "Yeah, trouble on three inch heels then," she remarks dryly. "You feeling better though? You looked pretty rough there earlier."

Elle hobbles over with Elena. "It's numb." she says. "Or at least it's not hurting at the moment. I hope I'm not going into shock." A somewhat concerned look at that.

"It's normal for someone's limbs to go numb after trauma like that," Elena says simply. "And people experience shocks to their system all the time, but something like this won't kill you. Your body will adjust eventually - though unfortunately the pain will come back after that. I…hope your boyfriend manages to get here soon so you'll get the help you need. Are you…sure you don't want me to call an ambulance? I've held your foot, some things feel out of place."

Elle seems uncertain. She doesn't want to blow Peter's cover. "My boyfriend's a nurse. He'll be able to take a look at it and tell me what I should do." Or, just heal it. But can't say that.

Brooklyn is a lot closer by air than it is on foot or by taxi. And luckily, for a change, Peter doesn't completely fail on his landing. No loud bang of garbage cans in the alley, no splatter of boyfriend against a wall. But when he does appear out of the alley, he looks winded… and windblown. Glancing around the front of the Den, he catches sight of Elle— and Elena— at the bus stop bench, and takes the final distance by foot, running. When he reaches them, he bends over a bit. Dressed in dark colors, a light jacket and jeans the most visible things, he's certainly in his more casual clothes. "Elle…" he says at first, taking deep breaths, before he glances towards the other girl, a hint of awkward caution in his expression.

"Okay, that's good then," Elena says. She knew that about Peter, but she's trying extremely hard not to reveal to the woman that she knows Peter that well. And Peter's a common name, so. Part of her is sick to her stomach. Dishonesty and deception were bitter pills to swallow. But she had to do it. She's trying to stay away from direct contact from the Company as is. When Peter arrives, she looks over at him, and nods. "She has a broken foot," she tells Peter. "There's a through-and-through puncture wound through the arch - it hasn't stopped bleeding. It's the most obvious injury but…" Genuine confusion etches into her face. "I have -no- idea how her bones got broken. Some pretty good force was applied but I didn't see anything obvious earlier that might've caused it." She has absolutely no idea Jessica is super strong. Just that she's dangerous and nuts.

Elle looks back to Peter, relieved. "Jessica." It's one-word answer and explanation all at once. "It's numb, but it's bleeding." She doesn't know that Elena is blocking the pain on it. "I was trying to get the painting back." There's the longer explanation. She looks back to him, and to Elena. "This is Elena." she says, "introducing" them.

At least Peter understands the other young woman's wishes. The awkwardness almost gets lost as he glances towards the Den with a frown, as if wondering what exactly happened in there. It all gets explained by one word, one name. "Damn it," he murmurs softly, before he looks towards Elena. "Thank you— I'll— I'll take care of her… Elena. Thank you." Does he need to say thank you that much? Possibly not, but he does. He moves to kneel down in front of Elle and tries to get a look at the bandage. Either way, he looks and sounds rather distraught, "You shouldn't— At least you're okay."

She hears the name, glancing towards Peter when Elle tells him about Jessica. Elena retracts the pain-block gradually from Elle, so she'll start feeling the pain come back bit by bit. She's about to leave, and go back to Jack and keel over from the fact that her heart is -hammering wildly- in her chest for being so close to a dangerous person. "You're welcome," Elena says, flashing Peter a quick smile and a nod. She stands up from the bench. "I better get going, Nuncle might need me to help clean up at the bar." She starts retracting her control of the pain completely before she goes. "Take care, you guys. It's dangerous around Brooklyn this time of night." She waves, and starts making her way back to the Den, shoving her hands in her pockets.

Elle gasps as the pain starts back up. It clearly distracts her from Elena trying to make her departure. She'll drop in later to thank the young woman for all her help. She looks back at Peter. "Owowowow…the numbness is going away. Heal it, please." she says, after Elena gets clear.

"I'm so sorry, Elle— I can't believe she did this to you in a public place," Peter murmurs, shaking his head as his hands move to her ankle. He glances towards the departing young woman, giving her an incline of his head, but nothing else really. Has to act like he doesn't know her. Something which kills him deep down. Hiding something from people he cares about… it's not his favorite thing in the world. "I'll do what I can, but this— might be beyond me. I'll take you to— to your father's hospitals if I need to." Because this could well be beyond him. Even then… as he holds her ankle, some of the damage starts to flow away, the most serious damage healing quite a bit.

Den of Iniquity, Brooklyn, New York

The door opens and Elena steps back in the bar so she could retrieve her things. She closes the door, and turns her back so she can lean on it heavily. She takes several deep breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating. That…was nerve-wracking. And with Peter there? Awkward. Why the hell is she doing this again?

With Trina taking her ease in the back, Jack is helping his cocktail waitress put things in order and close up the bar. The other bartender has taken the bouncer to be looked over by Jack's doctor, and in general things are a hell of a lot calmer than they were a short while ago. When Elena enters, he lifts his gaze from the stretch of bar that he's scrubbing. "Hey. That was some kinda mess, wasn't it?"
"No kidding," she tells Jack with a grumble. "That woman I brought outside almost killed Cass and Lachlan last week." Elena looks over at him. "That was Peter's girlfriend." She walks over to the bar and takes a seat on the stool, closing her eyes and rubbing them with her fingers. "And….you know. One of them. I did my best not to give away that I knew who she was." She exhales a breath, folding her arms on the counter and burying her face into them. "Ugh. Why am I doing this again?"

Elena says this while the cocktail waitress is out of earshot.

"Because it's who we are, lass." Smiling crookedly, Jack reaches out to cuff Elena on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. "You're a good lass, and brave. You did well tonight. I'm bloody proud of you." Beaming, he pulls a glass from under the bar and fills it with a liberal dose of bourbon. "Havin' sex dreams and tendin' wounds on the battlefield. You're growin' up before my very eyes," he deadpans.

"I would've been prouder of myself if I actually put those girls down before anything else could happen," Elena grumbles. "I suppose using the gentle touch doesn't work when crazy people are concerned." She looks up at Jack at the cuff on her shoulder, and she sighs. "But thanks for the vote of confidence." She looks around, and reaches over to retrieve her backpack. "I ought to get going though," she murmurs. "But congrats on the new girl. She's hot." She winks at Jack. "….and I say that in a platonic and totally heterosexual way. You know they actually did a psychological study that revealed that girls actually check out other girls than they do men? Competition. We girls are vicious creatures to each other."

Jack grins proudly. "Aye, she's a spicy little number, innit she?" As for how he should make fun of Elena and her penchant for checking out other girls… Where the fuck do I start? You get a mulligan on this one, sweetness.

When Trina comes out of the backroom, she's trailing smoke from another cigarette. Entirely oblivious to what was said before her return to the room, she gives Elena a more thorough once-over now. She doesn't, however, interrupt. Rather, she just leans against the door frame, head and shoulder resting against it. If they notice her, she'll wave. If they don't, she'll just smoke and spy.

"…and they were -not- sex dreams," Elena grumbles, flashing Jack a look. Seeing that expression on his face, she -groans- and palms her face. "What the hell, Jack. WHY do I hang out with you again?" She slings her backpack over one shoulder. "Anyways I ought to get going home, and sleep." And pretend this day never happened, because CLEARLY this was the worst night ever. Smelling smoke, she turns her eyes to Trina, and she gives her a small smile and a wave, before pushing off the bar. "I'll let you two get down to risky business."

"You hang out with me because you love me, of course." With a wink, Jack uses his bar rag to wave Elena toward the door. "Careful on your way home, Scrappy. You get outta here too." The last sentence is directed at the waitress, who's more than happy to comply. Leaving the rest of the tidying for tommorow, he crosses over to the doorway and leans against the wall. "Man. The things a guy's gotta do to be alone with his lady. I set that whole fight up to clear the bar out, y'know," he quips.

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