659/Barflies

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Barflies
Date of Scene: 28 May 2017
Location: New York City
Synopsis: Remy LeBeau's poker partners take exception to his wins. Jessica Jones takes exception to them taking exception.
Cast of Characters: Jessica Jones, Gambit




Jessica Jones has posed:
Pete's is full of activity. A lively place. A social place.

Some people thrive on that. Use it to make friends. Bring their own friends. Laugh. Have a good time.

Others sit at the far corner of the bar, a bottle of whiskey and a glass in front of them. One Jessica Jones is doing just that. She's busy pouring a bottle, her body language saying: I am my own little island, who just wants to be left alone to get very sauced.

She's dressed in jeans and a black tank top with a blue and black plaid shirt thrown over that, long enough for the shirt tails to nearly hit her knees. The summer heat precludes the use of leather jackets and scarfs, and it's air conditioned in here to boot.

The last drops of whiskey drip-drop out of the end of the bottle and she waves the barkeep over. "Need another bottle."

For all that she just finished one off, she doesn't really look all that drunk at all. Not the way most people would, after plowing through shot after shot like that. At this point? She's just about made it to 'buzzed.'

Gambit has posed:
As Jessica is just finishing her bottle, the iron door in the back bursts open and the red light inside spills out to the main bar before quickly a man is tossed through the opening and landing on the floor with a heavy thud. The men inside the hall growl back and there's the sound of a round being chambered as a final warning. "Stay out if you know what's good for yous Gambit." A burly voice warns to the man on the ground.

Remy looks as though he hadn't done a thing wrong and is shocked by this development, looking over to the nearest patron of the bar (Jessica) and saying, "T'ese nice gentlemen don' know who t'ey jus' messed wit'." Before he slowly climbs back up to his feet.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Well.

That's something she doesn't see every day.

One Jessica Jones gives Remy this stare. It's a stare that conveys something that is simultaneously wary, somewhat unimpressed, and...well.

Curious.

It's the curiosity that finally moves her to speak. She turns to face him and asks, "What the fuck prompted that?"

Not exactly the kind of gently-phrased leading question she might use when, say, questioning someone about one of her investigations. Blunt, to the point. Might not even get an answer, but...there it is. He has earned the rare but full weight of the private detective's attention. The second bottle thunks down, and for the moment she just lets it sit there.

Gambit has posed:
Once on his feet, Remy's hands brush the grime and filth from his pants and brown jacket, the mutant looks over at Jessica again, and move to casually sit down at the table with her and smiles kindly with his black and ruby eyes. "Some men jus' don' like it when you show t'em t'e trut'. T'at t'ey ain' as good at cards as they realize." His hand moves to her bottle and quickly realizes that it's empty.

The gentleman he is, Remy lifts his hand towards the bar and shouts, "One mo' bottle fo' t'e lady!" Guess he's buying her another bottle of booze.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Jessica Jones has never objected to letting someone else pay for her booze. She lifts an eyebrow, but a faint smirk crosses over her features as well.

"Is that so? Or did you use a little 'creative card playing' on them?"

Her tone really holds no censure. She could give zero fucks about whether or not the Cajun cheated at cards. It's more funny to her than anything else. The new bottle comes; along with a new glass. Jessica pours one for Remy, since he bought. She's not such an awful individual that she can't observe some basic bar etiquette. She pushes that over to him, then pours her own.

"Jessica Jones," she adds, more off-handedly than anything else, like it doesn't really matter, but she might as well since they're drinking together now.

Gambit has posed:
"Remy LeBeau." The cajun says, taking the drink and downing it, actually he sips at it. Seems he's calm and gonna stay a while. "I was jus' playin' fair 'n' square is all. None o' t'at magic cards o' hidden aces up mah sleeve."

Setting the glass down and playing with it gently his red eyes look back up to Jessica. "I have 'alf a mind t' go in t'ere an take all mah money back. One way o' anot'er."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"Man, Christ. I like this bar. No. Okay. Look."

She downs her whiskey, screw sipping. And she has herself an idea. It even might help pass the time, might even be a little bit fun.

"Let me go in there and have a go. How much did you lose? Cause they're not going to let you back in there. They're gonna start a bar brawl, and seriously, I'm not in the mood for that shit tonight."

The list of bars she can walk into without being tossed out herself isn't //so// long that she wants to risk the one just steps from Alias, too. If she has to play a little poker on LeBeau's behalf to maintain a positive relationship with the owners of this one...then that's how it's gotta be.

Gambit has posed:
"I didn' loose any money, t'ey kicked me out for winnin' an' kept everyt'in' I EARNED." Remy says, finally taking another sip of his booze looking back at the door. "I'd be careful goin' in there Jessi. T'ey ain' big fans o' mine, an' likely anyone I be associatin' wit'."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"Associating? Are they spying on you as you buy me a drink?"

But Jessica smirks. Now it's a challenge.

She hops down. "Hold my whiskey." And her outer shirt, apparently, as she loses the bulkier over-shirt, draping it across the chair to reveal the more fitted shirt beneath. As she goes, she's using her fingers to comb her long, ebony hair into a slightly different configuration. Her eyes take on a wide quality. Her lips take on a slightly pouty quality.

She looks like a total and complete airhead. Her walk takes on more of a saunter quality than the stride she no doubt normally uses. She knocks on the door.

Her voice is breathy, light, and high-pitched. She lets out a little giggle. "I hear there's a card game going on in here. Can I play?"

This...might...still lead to a bar fight. But at least it will be one that takes place...back there? She sure doesn't seem too worried about it. She'll try to do it the nice way first.

Gambit has posed:
Remy stays outside and doesn't hold onto her clothes, but he does keep an eye on them when he's not stealing a glance at Jessica as she moves to get into the gambling back room.

He downs his booze and then calmly fills up another one as he observes the ongoings of the private eye.

Jessica Jones has posed:
It goes...about as well as he might have expected.

With a twist.

About 15 minutes pass by, and then...

One of the guys goes sailing out the door of the little room, right on //his// ass. "You guys are //assholes//," comes the feminine voice from the back of the room.

Which leaves it up to Remy to decide whether he wants to get back in there or just...see who else comes flying out of the little doorway.

Gambit has posed:
Remy stands up and blinks a few times, and lifting his glass bottom's up and downing the booze quickly he steps over the man on the ground, writhing in agony on his way towards the back room.

"Ya killin' every one o' t'ese assholes?" The cajun inquires casually as he searches the room and is curious about what the woman is possibly doing to these poor gentlemen.

Jessica Jones has posed:
"Killing?"

Jessica Jones wrinkles her nose. She has one pinned to the wall. She punches him and drops him, staggering back a few paces. Two are left...they look from Remy to Jess, hands up.

"Only do that to the mind-controlling asshole monsters of the world," she says, pausing to pick up one of //their// bottles from the table.

She drinks the whole thing down, exhaling, then gestures at the pile of money on the table. She...dimly realizes that she has no way of verifying Remy's story.

Whatever. She has a gut. Feeling. Or whatever. She's a detective. Detectives know these things.

"I'm defending myself," she informs him loftily, pointing at one of the still-up guys. "Put his hands where they weren't wanted. Just trying to play cards."

She's had fifteen more minutes to drink even more; now it's starting to set in, a nice drunken haze.

Gambit has posed:
At the Jessica's words, Remy, who had been stepping closer to the other man, looks over at the small woman and then to the man who he suddenly sends his fisted hand out to sock the man in the jaw, rocking his head to the side swiftly, causing the man to stumble once in a heavy daze and falls over.

Remy then looks back to Jessica and then turns towards the poker table that's been toppled in the scuffle and he grabs a few wads of cash and starts to pocket them into his open jacket. Holding a bundle and weighing it he then tosses it over to the detective, a fine or a way of saying thanks.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Booze costs money (usually), so one Jessica Jones catches the bundle neatly and salutes Remy with it. She's not sure if her admission of killing (though that was actually in the papers, and she saved a bunch of lives, and she was never charged) was what produced his desire to load up and get the Hell out, or if he just figures it's time to do that but...

It does neatly remind her that her relationship with the police officers of this city is...Dodgy.

At best.

"See you around, LeBeau," she says. Definitely time to get the heck up out of there. She'll just slip the bartender a nice tip to back up her side of the story, and Remy's. Which...actually is the story, other than the fact that there was no good reason for her to go in there to play cards anyway.

Wait. Yes there was. A //great// reason. A wad of reasons, right in her hand.

She plucks up her shirt, takes care of this business, and moves to get the heck out of there. One can only rely on the slow police response in Hell's Kitchen for so long.