1188/Devil is in the details

Devil is in the details
Date of Scene:	28 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Jessica Jones, Indiana Jones, Lucifer

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Jessica Jones has posed:
"Okay, //I'll// work the room," Jessica tells Indy dryly. "Nothing to transport tonight unless we get really really lucky, but that's what's going to allow me to check on that so...You drink. Or this... other thing... you're doing. That's good too." She'd be more circumspect about this except the Bartender already pretty much knows what she's up to in here vis a vis this case; has laid out his parameters and has basically let her do her thing as long as she follows the rules.

Snark for sass, sass for snark. The locking of horns between the Bartender and Archaeologist over various boozes and their birthplaces is starting to spark some impatience in the detective. Probably more than she's letting on, in fact, but it's simmering under there all the same. The woman has a temper, and if she will suppress it for the sake of the handful of people she actually likes-- a handful that she can count on one hand, most of whom are sitting right here in this room-- that doesn't mean it's not there.

It soothes when the Bartender just laughs it right off though, a smile tugging at her lips. She does stop to observe that bit of warm cotton and sunlight. Really observe it, though the smile stays on her face. It's in her eyes. She's evaluating it a little bit.

In the end though, she comes to a conclusion about it, one that relaxes her more fully than she had actually relaxed upon coming in here. "See you, Rav. Relaxing at the bar for a few hours sounds just fine by me. I think your floors are probably safe."

She looks thoughtfully back at Indy, flash of irritation abated. "We'll just have to find one later. A tomb. Of some sort. Or something. Similar."

The flailing attempts of a woman who has no concept of how to connect with a family member in a positive way to connect with said family member in a positive way. It feels like a flail even to her, and she frowns down into her drink. Sometimes every step she makes feels like a fumble when it comes to interacting with people. Tonight is one of those nights. She now feels even a little bit bad for snarking right back. Cause to remember what an asshole she can be.

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indy gives the bartender a smile and a nod when he laughs, the grin widening when he is told his drink is on the house. He lifts the glass in another salute to the bartender before lifting the glass to his lips and taking another sip of the Scotch. "Well, thank you for that. That's a sure fire way to get a decent tip."

He nods politely to Rav as she makes her departure, "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma'am."

He looks to Jessica and raises a brow, "This other thing? What? You mean this banter the two of us got going here? Hell, if it's a problem I can stop talking to the guy. Didn't realize conversation was off limits." Indy reaches up and combs his fingers through his hair, letting out a little snort of air though his nose. "I assure you, I have no intention of breaking through the floor. I have no reason to. It's not like I am searching for a knight templar's grave site. Hell, I didn't even bring my hat along."

Indy lets out a small breath and takes another sip of the Scotch as he glances to Lucifer, before looking back to Jessica, "You want to go into a tomb? You know those places are dangerous, right? Last one I was in had a collapsing floor."

Lucifer has posed:
"Are you an adventurer, Mister Jones?" Lucifer inquires of Indy, catching the conversation. Politely enough, he doesn't mention any specifics-- it'd be rude to eavesdrop (technically) but they /are/ at the bar, and simply pretending he doesn't hear them is just patently ridiculous.

"So your... granddaughter, right? She went into private investigative work, but I had no idea she was related to a famous treasure hunter. A knight templar's tomb? That sounds like a fascinating story," he says, grinning encouragingly at Indy. "And as far as I /know/ there's no ancient templar ruins under the floor, but... hey, it's a big world, right?" he asks, with a sly little shrug.

Jessica Jones has posed:
"I didn't say talki-- " Jessica grumbles, and then just abandons that bit entirely. Look, there's her mouth. There's her drink, going into her mouth. It's a fantastic drink. She's going to need another. Disappearing way too quickly, this drink. But the snark is flying and now she's just rising right back to it, only this time it's in a more comfortable vein.

She /snorts/ when Indy says it might be dangerous. "Oh no. Danger." She says, deadpan. "I might break my track record of working just the safest of all safe professions. I might break a nail." It's not entirely fair; she hasn't clued him in on /anything/ vis a vis her ability to handle danger, but he'll find out soon enough. Her habit of just never saying anything about her abilities until she up and does something holds true even now.

As it is, the Bartender is doing a fine job of playing host by setting up the flow of conversation so adroitly, turning attention to Indiana's exploits, making a few jokes about ancient Templar tombs. She certainly doesn't seem to feel eavesdropped upon; he being more or less included in said conversation to begin with as far as she's concerned. The way he lets Jones x 2, with all the grouchiness and sarcasm /that/ entails, roll off his back? Certainly to his credit.

Indiana Jones has posed:
"You could say that..." says Indiana in regards to Lucifer's question. "I am an archeologist. Or was. Still am, I guess." Indy roles a shoulder in a shrug. "I used to acquire rare antiquities for museums. They made some documentaries of some of my old exploits, but don't believe everything you see in those things."

He looks to Jess and then back to Lucifer, with a nod. "Yeah, Granddaughter. We are still in the process of getting to know each other better."

He looks to Jessica and raises a brow, "Well excuse me for giving a shit, Jess. I never said your job wasn't dangerous. I just didn't think you ran into a pit trap or other death traps in your day to day dealings. Excuse the hell outta me." Indy lifts the glass of Scotch to his lips and drains the rest of it like a shot before he sets the glass back down onto the counter as he looks to Lucifer again, "Yeah. Found a tomb in the floor of a library once. Might have seen that in one of those documentaries."

Lucifer has posed:
"It's cute, the way you try to pretend that you don't care about Jessica," the Bartender grins at Indy, clearly bypassing the salt old archaeologist's very buried note of concern for Jessica's safety. "I think she takes after you a little bit, eh? There's definitely a familial similarity," he remarks, and he pours Indy another shot of the well-aged scotch before sliding it towards the grizzled treasure seeker.

"So how about a story then, Mister Jones?" the bartender says, entreating Indy to regale them even as he whips up another old fashioned for Jessica-- complete with the spark of flame as he sears an orange rind for her and drops it into the glass, muddling syrup and a half a crushed black cherry into it. "Or are your exploits fodder for the cinema only?" he adds, baiting Indy insincerely and with an easy, lopsided grin.

Jessica Jones has posed:
"Of /course/ I navigate death traps. I gotta cross the street in this town," Jessica replies, in the same deadpan tone. He mentions the documentaries, though, and she goes, "Oh yeah. I liked the one where you're all saying 'X never marks the spot' and then a little while later...X marks the spot.'"

She also decides to relent. "I'm not getting in your grille for giving a shit. Promise. Just...I got my ways of handling things."

Fuck it. She might as well tell them. Both, really. If The Bartender, with his strange Happy Effect and Maybe Not Mortal Thing, is going to be scared off by /this/ she might as well know now, and it's not fair to treat it like a state secret with family. It just feels uncomfortably like bragging, but...fuck it. "The boulder in the first documentary-- was that boulder a thing? I probably would handle something like that by just picking it up and throwing it. As an example. Didn't /look/ like it weighed more than your average Prius, anyway, though I guess what I saw was a replica boulder. Or punched it until it wasn't a boulder anymore."

And this is why his announcement that he was over a century old just didn't produce much more than 'great, have another drink.'

Speaking of which...another Old Fashioned. Jessica smiles at the Bartender for his perfect timing, even as she watches him to see if the revelation is going to phase him or put him off their burgeoning...whatever is burgeoning between them. But he's asking for a story, and she turns to face Indy in a way that indicates she'd be happy to listen to that too, much as she was before, when she wandered accidentally into touchy territory by asking him all about Madripoor. "Something that's not in the documentaries?" she adds.

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indiana Jones eyes the Bartender, "Pretend I don't care? When the hell was I doing that? Far as I knew I was saying just the opposite." Indy smirks, lifting the newly filled glass to his lips and taking a sip. "Oh, yeah. I get it. Ha." He grumbles, shaking his head and snorting a harsh breath of air out of his nostrils. "Sorry, kid. I'm not in story mode tonight I don't think. It's already pretty deep in here, and I didn't bring my boots. No need to add more to the pile."

He glances to Jessica, his eyebrow arching. "Yeah. That was the same one where I found the tomb in the library I was just talking about. Talk about eating crow."

Then there she goes talking about lifting boulders, or smashing them into bits. Indy just stares at her for a quiet moment, then snorts. "Shit. Wonder if that isn't some damned side effect from the Grail that got passed down? But to answer your question, yeah...that boulder was a thing. So was the Arc. So was the ritual. Had I known then what I know now, I never would have taken that damned job." He sighs, "And you know this book we are looking for? You know that page you were talking about? Eaton? He's the asshole that started that whole thing." Indy sighs. "Seems like we both got our surprises, eh kid?"

Lucifer has posed:
The Bartender blinks at Jessica's sudden proclamation about a boulder being thrown being the most expedient way to handle it-- but he's a bartender in New York (at a minimum, anyway). It takes a lot to phase him. "Huh. Well... all kinds of strange and fantastic people out there," he tells Jessica, flashing another grin at her out of nowhere. "If you said you could shoot lasers from your eyes, who am I to disagree?" He pauses, giving her a cocked eyebrow. "You /can't/, can you?"

"Ark, Grail--- oh!" the Bartender slaps his thigh and laughs, easily. "I just got it. /Indiana Jones/," he says, marvelling a little. "I didn't put it all together until just now. Wow, those were documentaries, huh? I gotta say, they nailed the casting," he tells Indy, squinting at him. "You're a bit shorter than the other guy, though," he concedes. "Still-- great movies. Well, the second one..." he wiggles a hand at Indy, making an 'eeenh' sound.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica shrugs her shoulders-- she has no idea about the Grail. The speculation brings a trace of old, old guilt to her face, a tightening around her eyes. If the accident did awaken some ancilliary holy benefit stored in her blood it's clearly one that passed Brian Jones' generation and passed Phillip Jones right by. Even if the idea does provide some possibilities for answers that she gave up on obtaining years ago.

The dark mood threatens, but then Indiana is revealing that tie-in to his earliest adventures. That makes her do a double-take, and that's enough to shake her right out of that track. Which is probably for the best. The Old Fashioneds are really too good to drink the way she normally has to, in order to quiet those demons. He doesn't want to tell a story, but what her grandfather does say still tells a tale. "Seems like," she agrees.

She takes out a notebook and jots that down, frowning.

She draws a conclusion. She tap tap taps the pencil on her page. And scrawls something.

If either man looks they'll see:

//Hire of Alias. No coincidence. Knew fam. connection? So fast? How? Why?//

She underlines the note, and draws a circle around it, and adds a few little squiggle marks. These serve very little visible purpose, unless it's just to kind of fix the question in her mind where she can play around with it for a bit, decide what to do about it, if anything.

No detective likes coincidences. No good detective believes in them.

The Bartender's joke does a fair job of getting her off that track for the moment, in addition to chasing away the rest of the treatening mood. She snarfs, then looks around, if only to see if Jeri Hogarth is a regular at this bar too. She of course sees no sign of Hogarth whatsoever, or even the mark she once threatened with the laser eye thing, but...word does get around. She shakes her head, shoulders still shaking with a bit of laughter, but doesn't verbalize the negation simply because the Bartender is giving his critique on the documentaries, and she figures she'll give her grandfather a chance to answer that one.

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indiana Jones eyes the Bartender. "The second one? Oh.. You know what, kid. You see what it feels like to almost get your heart ripped out of your chest and then you get to tell me how 'eeeh' my life is. I will tell you though, the one with the aliens? That was utter bullshit. Nobody survives a nuke by hiding in a fridge. I may have done some odd stuff in my day, I may be 125 years old. i may even have used a rubber raft to bail out of a plane...but that? Even I can't believe they put that in there. Nonsense. Hell, even if the radiation didn't kill you, the impact trauma from the sudden deceleration from hitting the ground would do the trick."

He takes another sip from his Scotch, "The only thing they got right in that whole damned movie was Marion and I finally getting hitched."

Lucifer has posed:
"Aww, I'm a sucker for a happy ending," the Bartender says, looking to hang on Indy's every word. He pays the old archaeologist the supreme compliment: he seems completely enthralled by the fellow, hanging on his every word until he gets to the end.

Politely enough, he doesn't make a show of looking over Jessica's shoulder. She's being discreet enough it's obviously not something she's inclined to share casually, and short of hopping the bar, reading it discreetly wouldn't be possible for a mortal man.

"The physics in the last movie did bother me," the Bartender agrees. "Which is why I pretend it doesn't exist. Honestly, I /liked/ the second one; it was that awful casting of the lady who ruined it. I mean, c'mon, she was /obviously/ put in there because she was boning the director," he remarks, rolling his eyes a little.

Jessica Jones has posed:
A hint of amusement crosses Jessica's face again. This time at 'boning the director.' More for the fact that for the most part she's watched her language at Lux, seeing it as the kind of refined place where she really really ought to. This is her first hint that maybe she can just go ahead and say it like she says it, without so much self-editing.

She glances at Indy with some concern, given she knows Marian is still a painful topic for him. Great Times Something Grandma Marion?

She puts the notebook away, her lack of inclination to share less about the information or the thought and more because it just feels as weird to her as talking about her powers, and she already crossed that single hurdle tonight.

"I gotta admit, that seems like it would feel weird. Looking around and realizing someone made a movie out of your /life/. And then went and got big chunks of it wrong, to boot."

Indiana Jones has posed:
Indiana Jones shrugs. "It is what it is. It wasn't until recently when aliens and people with powers came out of the woodwork that I felt comfortable coming out of hiding. I mean, who would believe I was One hundred and twenty five? I look no older than Forty. I couldn't exactly come out and hold a press conference saying 'You got all this here wrong.' Well, I guess I could have, but Marion didn't want me to. She wanted to keep things quiet, so I kept quiet."

He looks to Lucifer, "Yeah, I think you were right. There was a girl, but she wasn't that annoying. Except for the bugs...she really did flip out over those bugs. And the monkey brains."

Lucifer has posed:
The Bartender looks at Jessica and bursts out laughing. Hard. As if she'd just said the funniest thing in the world to him.

And if that slow grin had carried any power, that laugh-- riotous and unhindered-- rocks around the club like ...

... well, there are little words for it. It's the delightful peal of a child and the booming laugh of a parent rolled into one. The best joke told at the height of the night, the laugh that gets the party rolling in their seats. The sniggering of a congregation at a good zinger and the roar of a comedy crowd.

They should have sent a poet-- and at the far end of the bar, a lone lilac suspended in water perks up slightly but visibly and the blossoms open a few more degrees.

"Ahhh... haha," the Bartender says, wiping at his eye. "Oh, wow, that... that just made my night, Jessica," he says, still chuckling. "Doctor Jones-- it is Doctor, right? -- your granddaughter is just ..." he chortles again. "I'm sorry to hear that the movies got it all wrong. One of these nights, you should come in and set the record straight. Drinks are on me," he offers, extending Jones a handshake over the lacquered wood. "Jessica, thanks for bringing your... granddad in."