1204/A Visit

A Visit
Date of Scene:	29 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Danny Rand visits Alias Investigations with a job offer.
Cast of Characters:	Iron Fist, Jessica Jones

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Iron Fist has posed:
It's a day after the ninja skirmish at the local florist and the neighborhood is still recovering. There's police tape around the building, officers taking notes and interviewing locals, and curious youngsters snapping smartphone photos. Unfortunately, things like this have become the norm for the city, which still weirds Danny out. He wasn't around for the gradual build, just dumped into the middle of the madness.

The C.E.O. of Rand Enterprises, in civvies today instead of the yellow and green getup he wore recently, eyes the florist's building as he makes his way down the street. That's not where he's headed today, though. His destination is the Alias Investigations, the closest P.I. office to the scene of the crime.

Coming in from the street, Danny makes his way to the third floor office, raps his knuckles on the door, then tries the door handle.

Jessica Jones has posed:
It's been a slow day at the office.

That's some other PI's opening line, but in this case it's also true. Mostly because one Jessica Jones is sleeping off her hangover when the knock comes. "Coming," she grumbles, pushing her way out of bed.

"I'm coming," she grumbles again, her shadow finally darkening the glass window pane in the door.

She yanks it open, blinking sleepily at the well-dressed man. "Sorry. Keep odd hours. Come in."

She's got on a pair of jeans that look plucked from the floor as of sixty seconds ago, and a rumpled black tank top that looks slept in. She still has some bed-head, but she waves him in. Vaguely she waves for him to sit wherever. Couch. Chairs in front of the desk.

"Gonna make coffee. You can have some if you want. Welcome to Alias Investigations, how can I help?"

Iron Fist has posed:
Danny takes a step back from the door when Jessica's form materializes in the frosted glass. It opens to reveal the private investigator and Danny, for a moment, looks taken aback. Not by the woman's bed head, though it might seem that way, but because of who opens the door. It may even look he recognizes the woman.

"Oh, hey," he says. "No problem." He walks in and takes one of the chairs in front of the desk. "I'm Danny. Won't take up too much of your time, I hope. Coffee sounds good, though." He taps his hands against the chair's arm rests and looks around.

Jessica Jones has posed:
She notes that spark of recognition. Problem is, she's gotten it before. She ignores it like she has ignored it every time before.

She goes and makes the coffee. She uses just a basic Mr. Coffee machine. Pulls down a pair of chipped blue mugs that are nevertheless big and comfortable in the hand. After a moment's thought she digs some cream and sugar packets out of a drawer, stuff that came from restaurants that she just sort of stowed. These, she places on the desk in front of Danny before returning to the little coffee pot. She's impatient, so she holds the cup under the brew stream in lieu of the pot.

"You can take all the time you need, Danny," she says gruffly. She's used to hearing that line, too. It's often a prelude to long stories, though of course in this case it might not be.

Iron Fist has posed:
Danny finishes his visual inquiry of the room, then glances over to Jessica. He's sort of slumped forward in his chair, elbows on knees, looking casual in a way that sort of clashes with his tailored suit. There are bags under his eyes.

"Thanks," he says when the little packets are set in front of him. A smile is offered, and his attention follows Jessica back to the Mr. Coffee.

"I'm actually here about the mess that happened down the street last night." A short pause to see if there's any noticeable response to that. "My company's had an interest in the property - not a huge one, of course - but I'm looking for someone to keep an eye on it for a while. See who comes and goes. That sort of thing." He lifts his hands palms up and shrugs, as if him sitting there and saying those things would make sense to anyone.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica puts his coffee before him after doing a switcharoo which puts her own cup under the stream of caffiene pouring from the machine. She listens, grimacing a little at mention of the shop.

"The company would be?"

Because she spends as much time vetting clients as she does working for them, and given there looked to be a threeway intersection of interests at that shop last night...well. "Furthermore your last name would be...? Sorry, Danny, but I just want to make sure I don't wind up working for, say, the people who were waving machine guns around the place, or the ninjas-- and I can't even believe I'm an adult using that word in a sentence. Also, is there something important about that place that you know of? Cause it sure looked like a flower shop to me."

Not that he'd be the first person looking to snap up some Hell's Kitchen real estate on the cheap, she supposes.

Iron Fist has posed:
Danny can't help it, but he straight up laughs. A snicker that builds to a snort. He reaches for his mug of coffee and apologizes. "I mean, yeah, it all sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud. Then again, everyone's into tights nowadays." He sips from the mug, then sets it down.

"Danny Rand," he continues. The melodramatic story of the presumed-dead heir to Rand Enterprises would have been in all the papers a while back. Just in case, though, he reaches for a wallet and pulls out a business card, which he'll hand over when she's close enough.

"We have a pretty active property investment arm. Not my specialty, but there are a bunch of buildings in the area of interest. I want to vet them the same way you want to vet me."

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica makes a face when he says everyone's into tights. Here is a woman who will /never/ be into tights.

"Sure, okay. Right. That's why you looked familiar."

She swaps the cup for the pot so the other 6 cups of coffee can brew. She takes hers black, straight up, which is why there's no cream or sugar on the premesis that didn't come from the bottom of a takeout bag. "You were the one," she says thoughtfully, "who wanted to take care of those sick families."

She does take the business card, though a business card is hardly a driver's license. Still, it seems to be enough. She puts it down, coming to a decision.

She reaches into her desk, gets a standard contract, and pushes it across to him. "Rates are $200 an hour, plus expenses. I'm going to ask you for a $1600 deposit; that's 8 hours of work and for the amount of surveillance required it's a minimal deposit indeed. I should be able to determine whether that was a one-off chosen meeting spot for trouble, at which case that's probably all we're going to learn, or whether the site is really important to the people who chose it as their battleground, at which point there's probably going to be a whole mess of bullshit to unravel."

Iron Fist has posed:
"That's me," Danny admits with the faintest smile. It was one of the first moments he realized naked acts of kindess don't always go over well. He'd do it all again if he had to, though.

He releases his business card and takes the contract in return. He eyes it, flips through it, and says, "I'll have to read this over, but it sounds good to me." The papers drop in his lap.

"Battleground," he mutters, before laughing again. "Bet you never thought you'd be saying that, either." A pause, then, "I hope there's not a whole mess, but if so..." He shrugs, as if to say it'll be a long road ahead.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica shrugs and says, "That one, at least, sounds less ridiculous in my mouth than 'ninjas', but New York's a weird town full of weird people. What's a little more weird?"

She just simply shrugs at his notion that he'll have to read it over.

"It's not exactly a work of legal genius," she says. "I printed that one out from the Internet. From the National Association of Private Investigator's website, standard template. Take your time though."

A real business maven, here.

...She really ought to have Nelson draw her up a better contract, now that she's thinking of it. She makes a mental note to shoot him an e-mail later.

Iron Fist has posed:
Danny nods and hopes this woman will do as well with the job as she did collecting armed explosives.

"Then I'm sure it'll pan out." He pats the contract and adds, "Let me get back to you later today?" He already knows he'll hire her, but doesn't want to seem overly-anxious to do so. That's something Joy's been trying to teach him.

"I didn't catch your name," he says, adding to the cliche lines he's thrown around today. "My assistant just gave me the name of the office."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"Jessica Jones," Jessica says, as if it's really of no consequence, draining her coffee. "Nice to meet you, Rand."

Doing the whole introduction thing completely backwards.

After a moment she pulls out a business card of her own. "Number, e-mail." She slides that across the desk. "Just let me know."

She sighs though.

Because she has a feeling she's going to go take a second look whether he hires her or not. And that's irritating. Because some people want to do good, some people want to eat. Jessica wants to do good /and/ eat, and it would be /nice/ to get paid for sticking her face into a hornet's nest. Or at least for letting her butt get numb while she watches a god damn flower shop of doom.