14666/Business, Business, Business

Business, Business, Business
Date of Scene:	12 April 2023
Location:	Long Night Bar
Synopsis:	Mike invites Jessica along to meet with a contact and start a line of nonsense that will aid in an investigation of his. They get to play act. Hurrah!
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, Jessica Drew

---

Michael Erickson has posed:
    'I'm meeting with a contact. Want to come? Long Night Bar, Brooklyn, 10:15pm.' A sticky note left on her office before her shift tells the story, makes the invitation -- and that night, of course, he's waiting for her.

    Michael sits at a booth toward the back, ghostlit by the displays of the arcade machines; black leather jacket, Stranglers t-shirt from a billion years ago from the weathered look of it. Dark jeans and black combat boots. Vintage Wayfarers walling away his eyes. He looks like a hood, frankly, but there's plenty that match that description in this and other bars in this part of the borough - leaning back, a few empty longnecks already clustered in front of him, the alien agent is doing a good job holding up the booth and the wall behind as he relaxes, feet up on the seat opposite. Just another Tuesday night in the city.

Jessica Drew has posed:
One glimpse of Michael through the neon-lit window was enough to confirm her hunch to dress down. Not that the note left on her desk gave her much info to go on. So Jessica went with street chic - tight black jeans with ripped knees, a tight sports bra under a bright pink mohair sweater with long sleeves and high tops so brightly colored they could be used as beacons on a dark night. In keeping with what the locals were wearing, her green eyes are heavily made up, complete with liquid eyeliner wings and darkly drawn brows.

A slow walk across the bar, swaying for the benefit of the patrons, allows her to check the crowd out. She slides into the booth next to him without a word, takes Michael's beer and drains it.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He doesn't shift to make room for her - instead he takes her lead, pulls her onto his knee with an arm sliding around her waist to keep her anchored there. "Good to see you," he says. "You look badass like that. Like the wings."

Jessica Drew has posed:
A grin and high pitched giggle puts paid to the idea of there being a whole lot going on behind the heavy makeup. If they are going to be theatrical for whoever is watching, she will be his hoodlum Bonnie to his Clyde.

"Hey, hey, baby. How ya doing?" without a trace of her British accent, winding an arm around the back of his neck, while still holding on to the beer.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Oh you know, me, girl." A quirk of his lips indicates amusement beyond the act, though he leans back a bit more in his seat as to be a better throne for the queen. "Waiting on someone. You gonna behave, or do I gotta send you home?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
Kittenish, she looks down, squirming, "Oh, you know me. I'll be daddy's good girl." She slides off his lap her sweater opening wide, giving the bartender who is watching them a view of her six-pack.

"Can I have another?" She holds up the bottle she just killed and then shows it to bartender, entertaining himself by staring.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Ain't nobody gonna blame him for doing it, either - whatever it is about superhuman genetics, they're all practically sculpted from marble. The bartender, of course, is busy falling over himself snagging another bottle, where Michael plays it cool. He's the male half of this binary, after all. Yin to Yang.

    "He'll be here soon," he murmurs to her, just loud enough to be heard by her. "He knows me as a fixer named Turco. I've had girls on my arm in the past so you won't be unusual."

Jessica Drew has posed:
The bartender arrives with the bottle, careful not to leer when Michael looks his way. Jess brushes back her shoulder length hair, giving him a cool look.

Looking at Michael from under half-lidded eyes, "Okay, Turco. What's my name?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Whatever you want, baby," Michael says as the bartender arrives, reaching up to snag the bottle from the other man and put it down on the table. Protective and territorial. Probably not just the cover, but that's something for another day. The bartender smirks and walks off, his personal delivery rebuffed - that's probably going leave a mark on the final bill - and Michael snorts softly at his retreating back.

    "We're going to talk about plumbing supplies," he offers then. "Which is code for a load of RPG-7s coming out of Syria. I'm going to buy those to trade to someone else, which will get us our in to Romania."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Thanks, daddy." Jess covers his hand on the bottle. "How do you know this place isn't wired? And, that's a dangerous game. If you think we're not being overheard, tell me as much as you can before he arrives to talk about plumbing supplies.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    His free hand taps his lapel. "EM jammer," Michael offers. "It'll do for most any listening devices placed locally." A faint smirk lines his lips as he looks up at her, about to say something impish - but then that falls away as Michael's attention moves to the door. A slim man has appeared, dusky-skinned and with his curly hair cut short in a boxy pile atop his head and the sides shaved close. Arabic, probably, from his features. Handsome, but with a caginess as he heads for their booth that suggests some lack of experience in the game.

    "Hey, Turco," the other man says as he gets a seat. His eyes linger on Jessica as he sits down, not being, you know, dead. But she's quickly filed away in the moment as his attention turns to Michael.

    "Sayif." Michael flicks a glance between the two, expression cool. "Get you a drink?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
A perfect mannequin, Jess plays the part of arm candy without giving any external signs of how much she hates the role. She sizes the man up without appearing to, catching his eagerness to fit the part of a gun runner. Now, will he accept the drink? It -is- Ramadan. Whether he drinks or not will be telling.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "No," Sayif replies, shaking his head. "Thanks."

    With that, Michael nods, his eyes hidden away behind the dark lenses of his Wayfarers, looking a bit like a vaguely Italian sphinx. "All right," says he, "Straight to business, then. I got a crew needs to redo a housing development. Complete workover of the plumbing. And don't worry about Josie here, she's a plumber herself. It's her brother's crew." Drawing her in without being obvious, making her part of the transaction. No point in just having her sit there, after all.

    Sayif looks between the two of them, coffee-colored eyes still reflecting that caginess from before. "Um. All right." A beat. "You sure she's a plumber?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
There is a subtle shift in her expression. Still playing the vapid girlfriend of a hoodlum, Jess looks down before he has finished the question. When she raises her green eyes, they are harder than emerald, a muscle moves in her cheek and she looks like she would savage him on Michael's word and enjoy it.

The barest shift of her shoulder and the killer is gone.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Well, that's more than enough for Sayif. The transmutation of Jess's eyes from laughter to stone causes him to clear his throat, looking to Michael in case he's going to need to call the woman off. Michael, of course, just makes an expression of 'what're you gonna do?' before he speaks up again.

    "I'm gonna need enough pipe for six houses, Sayif. Three bathrooms apiece. Think you got enough in the warehouse?"

    Sayif keeps Jess in his periphery, but seems to ease up once business continues without him sprouting a horn of broken glass from his forehead. "Yeah," he replies then, nodding to Michael. "I can do that. Five thousand per house. Pipes are clean, if a little old."

    "None of that lead shit, now," Michael warns. "We aren't in the Sixties."

    "No." Sayif glances at Jessica again. "No, these are clean. Newer castings. And the bathrooms can be large, too."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Raising her bottle to the man, Jess gives him a bland smile and an innocent shrug. Girls will be girls, especially plumber girls. For the next minute, the dim light glints off the bottom of the bottle as she finishes it off.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Without a word from Jessica, Michael sits up a bit and nods. "All right," he says, "We can do that. I need 'em by the end of next week, post-Ramadan. Can you deal?"

    Sayif's lips screw up into a smile. "I can do that," he replies. "Just drop the money off by my uncle's place. I'll call you when the supplies are in."

    "Sounds good." There's a moment's pause. "I'm surprised you didn't bring Safira, man. Everything okay?"

    At this, Sayif's expression grows flat. "Yeah," he says, tone cooling. "Yeah. She's fine."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Jess bores into Sayif while he lays out the payment, watching him for tells. The man is obviously more an errand boy that enjoys playing it tough than a decision-maker.

Her eyes widen in commiseration, "Shame. Woulda liked to have met her."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Yeah." Sayif grows uncomfortable now, the comment having set off something inside of the man. He meets Jess's eyes, frowning after only a moment's contact before returning his attention to Michael. "All right, well, I got shit to do, Turco. Let me know if anything happens before then and now, okay?"

    "Sure, sure, man," Michael breezes, and his hand slips from her waist to offer Sayif a shake. Sayif doesn't take the hand, instead offering a short 'I'll see you' before sliding out of the booth and taking his leave. And then...it's just them.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"That got weird at the end there," Jess comments as her eyes follow him out the door. "Are you sure about him?" she asks turning to fix her eyes on Michael.

"You obviously have done business with them before.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Safira cheated on him the other week," Michael offers as explanation. "They're on the rocks. Nobody's supposed to know." Obviously he does. "He does better when he's focusing on the job. He'll go home and get mad and get the hardware just to prove to himself he's not what she thinks of him."

    That said, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pen, and thumbing the button scratches out the following on a napkin: '6 RPG7 x 18 rkts = 30k'

Jessica Drew has posed:
"It sounds like Safira might have better taste than I thought," she tenders with her bottom lip flattening into a wry smile.

Regarding Michael's math. "Now, that is a bargain, my friend." Jess stabs the napkin with a finger then frowns at him. "How old are they? Do they think they are setting you up?

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael snorts at that. "Sayif's not a bad sort," he replies. "He's just struggling in his uncle's shadow. But he can get the job done. And as for the bargain...well. We'll see if they're what they're supposed to be. The rockets are hi-ex, but if these are like, Russian originals instead of more modern Iraqi manufacture or something, it'll be annoying."

    That said, Michael's arm lingers on her hip, and then he blinks behind the shades. Lets it slide free. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I just have to get them resold. Tracker will do the rest."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Poor boy," she exclaims, shaking her head at his poor shadowed self. "He had better do his job if the rest is going to unroll."

After a glance at the door, she turns to him with a real smile, her British accent now full on, "How long do we want to stay to party?"