1119/A Consultation

A Consultation
Date of Scene:	24 June 2017
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Nelson and Murdock. Alias Investigations. It's a match made in Weird Heaven, as demonstrated when Jessica Jones comes to ask Foggy Nelson for legal advice. She dumps a few other tidbits of trouble in his lap while she's at it.
Cast of Characters:	Jessica Jones, Foggy Nelson

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Jessica Jones has posed:
"Oscar the Grouch," as a certain someone has named her, comes bearing gifts. Because see. She remebered things. It's a tray of veggies with a big thing of Hidden Valley Ranch in the middle of it.

Of the two lawyers she'd met and retained all at once, Foggy Nelson was the one she'd warmed to a bit more. Hard not to, really; he had an easygoing demeanor, joked around with her till she relented, and complimented her sister. So he was the one she called when she said, "I gotta weird situation and I want your opinion on it."

She does arrive on time. Jeans and a tank top against the summer heat, sunglasses, though she takes those off as soon as she finds her way into Foggy's office and thunks it down on his desk.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
Weird situations seem to be the firm's specialty, though Foggy hasn't yet adding that tagline to their window. He is finishing up what looks to be a crossword puzzle when Jessica comes in, and he barely manages to pull the newspaper out of the way before the tray is plunked down. He eyes it, and then offers Jessica a bright smile that neatly dimples his chin. "Mm, rabbit food." He grins at the joke, and starts to work the little plastic rim off around the tray. "Got your message," he says. "How did you know that we like a bit of weird around here?"

Jessica Jones has posed:
"I didn't," Jessica says dryly. "I just figured hey, I'm the client, so if I got weird, you were just gonna have to deal."

But. Foggy Nelson remains a really hard person to be shitty to; he smiles, and a little bitty one sparks back onto her own face. For just a sec. Blink and you'll miss it.

She grabs a chair on the client side and turns it around to straddle it, draping her arms over the back. "But good. If you're used to this shit then we can skip the part where you look at me incredulously and where I spend a whole lot of time convincing you that no, I'm not playing some elaborate prank."

Foggy Nelson has posed:
Foggy goes for a carrot that is drenched in ranch. Merely a method of eating ranch dressing. He crunches, listening to Jess and nodding agreeably at her first comment. When she gets to the prank bit, he snorts a bit. "But that's my //favorite// part. But if you insist, I will forego my excellent incredulous face." He doesn't double-dunk, popping the rest of the carrot in his mouth and licking a bit of ranch off his finger as he reaches for his notepad and pencil. Traditionalist, Foggy. Other firms are using iPads and fancy styluses. Not Foggy. He's broke enough that a pad of paper will always do.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Her lips twitch again at his quip.

"There's a shapeshifter out there," she says. "His name is Basil Karlo. He used to be some sort of actor, now he's some sort of clay thing. Anyway, this guy decided it would be cute to wander around as the tarted up, photoshopped, super model version of me. And while I'd love to hope he got bored with that 5 minutes after leaving my apartment, I'm thinking there's a good chance he's going to commit some crimes wearing my face. He said he'd like to turn over a new leaf, but..."

She shrugs. "He didn't seem stable. Mentally. Anyway. This called for a pre-emptive consult, cause I'm sure the cops will leap on any excuse to give me trouble."

Foggy Nelson has posed:
"Basil Karlo... is that with a C or a K?" Foggy repeats as he writes the name down, but he doesn't get much further than the 'R' before he looks up with a slight blink. "Clay... thing?" He arches both his brows as he finishes up the name. He frowns slightly. "Wait, he can... look like other people? Like... a shapeshifter?" Then he shakes his head as he takes the notes on the mentality, and nods warily. "Well, the mentally unstable can be like that... but he sounds pretty smart too." He hesitates, rubbing the eraser against his chin. "So, my question is this... what happened that made him want to mess with you? Were you investigating him or something?"

Jessica Jones has posed:
"I didn't ask him to spell it, but he said he was some hotshot actor, so hang on."

Jessica pulls out her phone and Googles it, then confirms: "K."

"In his natural form he now looks like some big crazy lumpy clay man, and when you throw him or punch him bits of him fly off. Then the bits of him slide back to him and stick back into him, so...I imagine he's pretty difficult to stop when he gets going."

Yeah, she just admitted to tossing him around, like it's nothing.

"He followed me home from a weird gang shooty ninja bomb thing."

She waits for him to absorb this, figuring...well. Figuring that might raise questions too.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
He wasn't in reruns of Star Trek, so Foggy has no idea who the hotshot is. He just corrects the C into a K and calls it good. Then he looks up at Jess again, frowning at her description. "So... Clayman... can look like anyone, but it only lasts for a bit of time, and you can punch him." Foggy's a good listener. The man sits back in his chair, rolling both his hands through his hair, slicking it back. "Gang shooty ninja bomb... thing. I have no idea what that means, but I'm envisioning it as being really, really awesome." Which then he rubs at his forehead. "Alright. So. I don't think we can call the police about this. I'm pretty sure they'd loony bin you in a heart beat."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"Yeah. I get that a lot," Jessica says dryly. "And like, I don't care, if he wants to walk around looking like Tartica Jones, whatever. I just want to cover my ass in case he robs a jewelry store or something. Last thing I need is them coming to arrest me for his bullshit. So I figured I'd see what kinds of crap I could do to protect myself. And. You know. Give you the heads up, cause you're the one I'm calling if I find myself parked in a goddamn interrogation room. Figured the wierd is best served when we're not in a crisis situation."

Foggy Nelson has posed:
Foggy taps his eraser against the pad thoughtfully. "Alright, I'll do some poking around... this isn't the first time there's probably been someone trying to impersonate someone else to do some unlawful activity. We can try to get some strategies in place." He bobs back into his chair now, exhaling deeply. "You might end up in an interrogation room, but you won't be there for long. You call me the instant that happens, and I'll be there... even if I'm still in my bunny slippers."

Jessica Jones has posed:
Another one of those smirks flits across Jessica's face for a moment. "I feel like the bunny slippers are a sound legal strategy at any time of day. I have been documenting the shit out of my activities and saving receipts and stuff. But like...I can't prove my goddamn whereabouts 24/7. I draw the line at installing cameras at Alias just so I can show that yep, I really was at home and asleep, Officer. And like, if they get uppity about the ninja shit that brought him to my place in the first place? On record: I ran around picking up god damn flash bombs and kept some people from shooting up the street so they can suck it."

And then, the conversation takes another turn for the weird. "Hey. Quick question. How are you with riddles?"

Foggy Nelson has posed:
"My bunny slippers are quite impressive, let me tell you." Then Foggy takes on a more serious edge, his mouth quirking with a small frown. "No, we can't do a full 24/7 alibi. What we need to do though is make sure that we can find a way to prove that he is not the same as... you." That sounds lame, but he'll work on it. Really. Then when she asks about riddles, the man blinks. "Uh, depends... like are we talking about those riddles that appear on the sticks of popscicles, or something else entirely?"

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica considers that. "It might be a little long for a popsicle. It's part of a case I'm working. Goes like this: All who hear me fear me; but none truely know me. I am in front of no army and behind all of them. I am the first; I am the last; Many praise me, but only one loves me. Who am I?"

She half shakes her head. "I can't think of a god damn thing I'd be afraid to //hear//. Well, that's not entirely right. But nothing that //everyone// would be afraid to hear that would also be behind all armies etc. etc. etc."

She smirks. "Your practice does weird, my practice does weird. In the mergers between PIs and lawyers, it's just about perfect. And all conveniently located right here in Hell's Kitchen." Amused sarcasm, rather than biting, dances along the phrase at the end. Because she more than recognizes that a case revolving around a riddle is weird.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
"Hmm." Foggy leans back in his chair, bobbing again. He runs over the bits a couple more times in his head before he looks up, brows furrowed. "Uh... I'm gonna have to think about that. I mean... thunder can be a scary thing to hear, but I don't think that quite fits with the rest." Though, it might, his tone suggests. Then he looks up with a wry smile at her comment, and he shrugs slightly. "A geographical oddity, Hell's Kitchen."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"A geographical oddity..."

This makes Jessica frown. She instantly shifts gears.

"Can you think of any reason why someone would be throwing a bunch of money at a property grab in this particular geological oddity? This...relates back to the stuff that got sparked when Karen got herself stabbed. I was planning on going to share it with her, but...you just made me think about it. I've done a little more digging and what I've found is pretty weird. Real estate isn't exactly my strong suit, so I'm still a little lost on what the point of it all is, but..."

Foggy Nelson has posed:
"Besides general push for gentrification?" Foggy shrugs a shoulder. "I don't really know what would spark it. I mean, besides wanting to get rid of the people that call the Kitchen home." He frowns then. "Well, if you want to push stuff my way, I can poke around. I got friends." He says that like it's an important point of knowledge. Yes, Foggy Nelson has friends. "I can see if someone's heard something."

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica doesn't seem that surprised that he has friends.

"I did some illegal shit to get this, but I didn't get caught and I didn't leave proof," she warns.

"Mills and Milton is the company, owned by a...Fisk Industries."

She reaches into her messenger bag and takes out a stack of papers. "Got a copy machine? They've offered twice what the Diamond Grove Apartments are worth, but the owner won't sell. It seems like they're moving a bunch of drugs or guns or something in there...I couldn't quite decipher all the street lingo I heard. But Milton and Mills is definitely targeting properties that are 'dangerous', and if I'm right they're not above helping the violence along in the hopes of making sure the properties get seized by the city, maybe so they can buy them from more owners who don't want to sell."

She's willing to make the copies herself, she has already stood up, looking around for it.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
"You really shouldn't tell me that," Foggy says to her dryly. "As your lawyer, I'm not going to ask where you got something, but if you //tell me//, then I can't deny that you did tell me." He taps the side of his nose meaningfully before he looks at the papers. He grimaces slightly. "Yeah, copier's out there." He points out of his office. He pulls himself out of his own chair to lead the way. "What makes the property dangerous?"

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica snorts. "I thought we had confidentiality, Nelson!"

She walks to the other room and makes the copies, noting, "I'm telling you this shit is tainted evidence, then, but it's still evidence and it still points to some shit. Use with caution. There's a big label on it now. It's yellow and Mr. Yuck's face is on it."

She brings the copies back and plunks them down. "As to that...crime rates, mostly. Lots of shootings, lots of drugs, lots of shit. But it's kind of shitty to go make a fucking place //worse// just so you can buy it. Like you said. People gotta leave somewhere, and it's not always going to be a place where unicorns fly around farting Starbucks and organic cheese."

She takes up her bag. "But. I've also exhausted everything I came to talk to you about, so I'll let you get to work. Don't forget to call me if you need anything from me. I'll show up. Won't be wearing bunny slippers. But I'll show."