10514/Hard Day's Night

Hard Day's Night
Date of Scene:	23 December 2019
Location:	O'Riley's Bar, Gotham
Synopsis:	In which the Commissioner gets served. Drinks.
Cast of Characters:	Jim Gordon, Artemis Crock

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Jim Gordon has posed:
It's late into Sunday night. A normal bar might be rather quiet at a time like this, but Gotham cops live the kind of life that often needs a drink or two to deal with. It's the only therapy that a member of the GCPD can afford. Most of the booths are filled, and many of the tables are as well. The jukebox plays in the corner, but nobody is dancing. It makes for decent background music, though.

Jim Gordon sits at the bar with empty stools on either side of him. Every cop here knows who he is, and they also know he doesn't like to be bothered when he's here. A file is open in front of him, and he frowns to himself as he flips through it as he plucks his cigarette from between his lips with his other hand. He taps it into the ashtray and lifts an empty glass to his lips, glass tinking about. He blinks at it and sighs, checking his watch as he sets the glass back down.

Artemis Crock has posed:
This isn't Artemis' usual bar, but it turns out that anyone who can get out of Gotham at the holidays usually does, which means there are plenty of people looking for shifts to be covered this time of year for those who don't have anywhere else to go. So that's more money in her pocket, even if cops aren't the biggest tippers. At least no one here needs to be kicked out.

As Jim's glass goes empty, she returns from delivering a bottle to another table, giving the glass a look. "One more?" she asks, checking the tab to make sure he's not too many glasses in already. "Looks like you've still got some work to do."

Jim Gordon has posed:
He's had a few, but doesn't appear plastered. He glances up at Artemis and considers for a moment as he puts his cigarette out in the ashtray. He brushes his fingertips over his moustache and nods, then. "One more," he grunts. He reaches up to adjust his glasses as he looks back up curiously.

"John left town for Christmas, didn't he? I don't blame him. Wish I could but...nobody to fill in for me, you know? Plus, I have no idea how to take a vacation."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Him and half the city," Artemis says with a rueful smile. "But hey, it means you get drinks from me instead, so not a complete loss." She tops off the glass, taking another glance at the folder. "Doesn't look like the sort of work that does well with waiting anyhow," she says. "Though I'm curious who had the brass balls to give the commissioner their paperwork this close to Christmas," she adds, a note of amusement in her voice.

Jim Gordon has posed:
He chuckles softly and sits up a bit on his stool. He pushes his glasses up into his hair and rubs at his eyes before he picks up the refilled glass for a sip. "It's never the criminals who leave town for the holiday, either, is it?" Gordon shakes his head and sets the glass down in front of him. He glances down at the file and closes it before he turns to tuck it into his satchel beside the stool.

Artemis Crock has posed:
"What, with all those perfectly good houses full of perfectly valuable things left unattended? That'd be bad business." Artemis may be trying to sound like she's joking, but there's a hint of old bitterness beneath the words as well as she turns to start unloading the glass washer, stacking glasses back onto the shelves behind the bar.

"Nice to see the force is out and working hard, though." Despite the fact that the bar is full, //that// doesn't sound like it's sarcastic.

Jim Gordon has posed:
"Isn't that the premise of Home Alone?," the older man grunts. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out. He lights it with a scuffed Zippo and takes a drag. He turns and glances around the bar before he turns back towards her. "Lotsa folks in here instead of with their families. That happens. Not the best part o' cop culture. Hell, it's part of what killed my marriage...and those of quite a few cops I know."

He takes another drag of his cigarette before he picks up his glass.

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Most houses aren't occupied by terrifying kids," Artemis chuckles. "That kid made Macguyver look like an amateur." She sets about a few small tasks behind the bar, taking out fruits for garnishes and starting to chop and shape them with practiced hands. "Sorry to hear that. Worse reasons for marriages to end, though." Not that she elaborates on that.

Jim Gordon has posed:
"Well, there's a lot more to the story then that, of course," he grunts in response to the divorce. He doesn't elaborate, though. He simply takes another drag on his cigarette and sits there. "So...what do I call you?," Gordon asks, glancing up from his drink to the temporary bartender.

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Artemis," the girl answers, looking over with a flash of a smirk as she says it. Yeah, she's heard a clever comment or two on the topic. Spirals of orange rinds are the task of the moment, neatly peeled and then dropped into a container at her side for whenever someone wants...well, every now and then someone wants an old-fashioned or something along those lines, at least. Or the badge bunnies want something frilly. "I've got a history class with John over at the university, so when he said he was heading out of town for the holidays, I figured it was a good chance to make a little extra money."

Jim Gordon has posed:
"Ah, got it." He brings the drink to his lips again before setting it down. "Well, there are worse places in Gotham to pick up work, I'll tell you that. It's not glamorous, but it isn't bad, right?" Gordon takes another drag on his cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray. "I remember when this place opened. Little over twenty years ago. I'd only been in Gotham a couple'a years at that point. The main cop bar before it'd closed when the owner went nuts after his wife was caught hooking up with a few of the regulars. Messy scene, let me tell you.."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Speaking of worse ways to end a marriage," Artemis says with a flicker of a smile, switching over to lemon slices. "And yeah, it's a decent place. Not exactly gala-level tips, but at least I don't have to worry about getting jumped in the parking lot on the way out, or breaking up a bunch of fights. Patrons are mostly respectful, not too pushy. And I'm looking at starting law school in the fall, so it's never too soon to start making some friends on the force, right?"

Jim Gordon has posed:
The man takes all of that in and then nods a bit. "Gonna be a lawyer, then?," he asks. He seems to remember his glasses are still up in his hair, and he pulls them back down to rest on his nose and brushes his fingers over his moustache idly. "Yeah, these guys can be alright. Some of them can be mean drunks, but...that's the same as any group of alcoholics, I guess."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"That's the plan for now, at least," Artemis nods, glancing up to check the rest of the bar for any signs of trouble, habitually. Thankfully, none such signs are in evidence. "That's assuming I can pay for it, of course. Thus the extra shifts. Little bit at a time, you know? Might take a little bit longer to finish, but I won't have a lifetime of debt hanging over my head and making me an easy target. You know how it is."

Jim Gordon has posed:
"Don't have a scholarship or...I don't know...student loans or something? School is expensive these days. I should know...I had to put a kid through college." He picks his drink up again to take a long sip. "She's a bit older then you, I'd guess. Smarter then me by a mile."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"I had a scholarship for high school," Artemis shrugs. "Wayne Foundation. But I've been paying for undergrad myself, and it's a little harder to find scholarships for law school. Mostly the world figures you'll make bank when you get out and pay it all off that way. Which is kind of ridiculous for a profession where you're supposed to be able to be neutral, but hey, the world's not fair." She steps down the bar a few stools to replace a beer bottle with a flash of a smile for the officer there, then returns.

Jim Gordon has posed:
"Ah. Wayne Foundation." Gordon nods to that and brushes his fingers back through his hair. "No, it definatly isn't." He picks up his glass for another long sip before he sets it down again. He could down it all, but he's clearly making it last. At his age he's in no rush to get wasted.

Artemis Crock has posed:
"What about you, Commissioner?" Artemis asks, wiping down the counter. "Did you always want to be a cop? Or was it one of those things where one thing just kept on leading to another?" Conversation or no, she seems to have the place under control, with drinks topped up and bills paid without there seeming to be a real delay for anything.

Jim Gordon has posed:
He considers that question for a moment or two, seeming to be in no real rush to answer it. "I joined the military to get out and do something. Anything. Ny dad was a good man, but I didn't want to work the Chicago docks like he did, but I didn't know what I wanted to do. So, I joined the Marines. Did that for...too long. Got out and needed to find -some- way to apply those skills on the right side of the law, so I became a cop. Didn't ever think it would lead me here, though."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Anyone who //plans// on their life taking them to Gotham really needs to work on their goal-setting," Artemis notes, that wry smile curving again as she turns to close out a tab. "But hey, home sweet home, right? What'd your daughter go into, if you don't mind me asking? She still in town?"

Jim Gordon has posed:
He smirks at that and nods. "I bumped heads with a lot of people back in Chicago, and eventually took a transfer for my own safety...and my wife's. I was told Gotham'd be a dead end for me. Just shows that you can't listen to people telling you that you can't do something, I guess." He shrugs a muscled shoulder. He's a big guy, especially for his age. Sturdy. "Forensic Psychology and...Computer Programming? Yeah. She does freelance computer forensics. I can only pretend to know what that means, but whatever it is she's great at it."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Well, you know. That commissioner job doesn't have a lot of places to go from it," Artemis winks, grin flashing. "Freelance computer forensics," she echoes, whistling softly. "Yeah, she's definitely doing good for herself. Well good for her. And for you," she adds with a dip of her chin. "I've been told it's hard to raise good kids in this city."

Jim Gordon has posed:
"It is not easy," he agrees. "Not at all. But I can't take all the credit. I won't be arning any awards for best father, even though I tried." Gordon shrugs and lifts his glass again for a sip. "What about you, hmm? If you aren't from Gotham...why here?"

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Oh, I'm one hundred percent from Gotham," Artemis laughs, shaking her head. "Born and raised. And too stubborn to leave," she adds. "Well. That and my Mom's still here, and she needs help, so..." She trails off, shrugging. "You can't just bail on family, you know? And yeah, she says she'd be fine if I left, and I know she means that, but it doesn't seem right either."

Jim Gordon has posed:
"Well, if there's one thing Gothamites have in common it's that damn stubborness. All of you...for better or worse." He shakes his head at that and chuckles to himself before he glances down to check his wristwatch. "She says that, but does she mean it?"

Artemis Crock has posed:
"My mom?" Artemis smiles faintly, clearing off a few glasses as their owners depart. "Yeah, she means it. All appearances aside, she's a pretty tough lady. She'd make it without me. And she'd do just about anything if it meant I would have a better life. She //has// done just about anything." Including hard time, but that's beside the point. "For now, at least," she adds, more quietly. "Eventually she's going to need help or to be somewhere //with// help. I figure the least I can do is be with her while she can be here."

Jim Gordon has posed:
He nods to that as he listens. "Sounds like a tough lady. Gotham makes those quicker then anywhere else, I figure." He downs the remainder of his drink and leans down to heft up his satchel and shoulder it. "Well, you'll see me more often then my doctor'd say is healthy, but what does that bastard know, right?"

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Hey, the alcohol's probably good for your blood pressure," Artemis agrees, chuckling. "He should be grateful for what he gets, yeah?" She takes the empty glass, slipping it into the glass washer in an efficient motion. "Have a good night, Commissioner. I figure a good night for you makes a good night for everyone in town."