4580/In Capitalist USA, Jones Catches Up With You!

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In Capitalist USA, Jones Catches Up With You!
Date of Scene: 03 January 2021
Location: Dixon Docks - Chinatown
Synopsis: No description
Cast of Characters: John Constantine, Jessica Jones

John Constantine has posed:
The East Quay Motel is the sort of place that aspires to the past glory that actual hotels actually had in the past. At best it's a tepid reflection; a nod here and there at art deco decor over a bald facade, with chipped and peeling plaster and paint. It's the sort of place that attracts sailors and longshoremen who are trying to save a few dollars. Crime in the area is high enough that it's a bit reckless to go around at night unawares, even if the various criminal families keep a lid on outright violence around 'their' docks.

But it does have two things going for it: the manager is easily bribed with cash, and there's a bar attached to the lobby in one of those improbably conjoinings of commercialism that happens when an area falls through the inspector's nets one too many times.

It's here John Constantine can be found, sitting at a corner of the bar with a drink near his elbow and some papers scattered out in front of him. One hand is propped up against his temple for support and a cigarette dangles from between his fingertips. Black slacks, grey dress shirt; were he not so thoroughly rumpled and wearing a heavy five o'clock shadow, one might think him an accountant gone astray. Certainly no white-collar worker comes all the way down to the bar for the prices, the company, or the watered-down liquor.

Jessica Jones has posed:
Last time she happened across John Constantine, Jessica heard him mention the Roxxon Investigation, the fact he knew about it was on her mind quite a bit. Then again, in her profession, and with her people's skills, it was always better to be safe than sorry. So what's safe? Why tracking down a guy with some obvious magic skills, who is clearly friends with high caliber heroes like Wonde..Power Girl, and of course hangs out in a crime ridden area. The only way to make it better, is to track him down later in the day, when he's more likely to just want to unwind with a drink. That last bit didn't take her astute P.I. skills, it's just what she'd want to do at the end of a day, and he seemed like the sort to at least share that hobby with her. Because it IS a hobby, and not a life choice, or a problem. Screw what Matt thinks.

Jess is the queen of daring to go into the sorts of dives no woman goes into by her lonesome, but even she has some reservations at this particular level of dump.

Was she unbothered on her way there...? Not very likely, but then the sound of shades of violence that resolved such unwanted advances didn't draw attention where it's a nightly occurance. This guy, that guy, it really didn't matter, you keep your nose out of stuff, it doesn't get broken. Simple math. It works. Most people out here only want to make a living after all.

When Jessica finally steps into the East Quay Motel's...'inviting' bar, she walks directly towards John, not announcing herself, she leaves it to his good senses to either pick on her approach, or not.

John Constantine has posed:
It takes John a few seconds to pick up on Jessica's approach. She's nearly at the bar when he looks over, blinkingly owlishly. Seems Jessica's not the only one who unwinds by the bottle rather than by the glass.

"I'll be buggered," John quips, and takes a drag on his cigarette. "Jessica Jones. You're a bit out of your way," he informs the woman. Strangely the bartender doesn't seem to be monitoring John's smoking, despite New York's totalitarian crackdown on tobacco. "Didn't think anyone from the Kitchen made their way all the distance out to the Quay. You here for me, or just out looking for trouble?"

John picks up his whiskey, cooled by two small ice cubes, and takes a sip. It smells cheap and strong, and lacking any refinement.

Jessica Jones has posed:
"So...you're a pro yourself, huh?" Jessica remarks as she notes he takes after her own heart, not bothering with glasses, and going the more efficient route of the whole bottle. "I take it your visit to Josie's was an upgrade from your usual watering holes, huh?" She says while giving a rather disappointed once over to the place itself.

Jessica motions for the bartender, "I'll have a bottle of whatever gas station whiskey you carry," see? She can be refined as well. She pretty much invites herself to John's table, pulling a chair to sit at his side without bothering to ask for permission. "Yes, you gave such a sterling first impression, I had to have seconds...so," she drums her fingers over the table, "how did you really hear about the Roxxon case, don't tell me your raven familiar told you..."

John Constantine has posed:
"Saves time," John agrees convivially. "Also Randy's not above watering down his drinks and I'm not above lifting tips." He blows smoke out his nose when the bartender walks over, and returns a low glower with a cheery smile.

"Keeps us both honest."

He waits for Jessica to get herself situated, then half turns his shoulders to her. The documents in front of him are covered with illegible writing, either a pharmacists's notes or some arcane formulae that don't readily lend themselves to comprehension. "Are you really surprised to find you've a wee bit of 'street cred' as you Yanks say?" John inquires. A brow hikes. "Not every day a PI working a simple case ends up running afoul of a massive multinational like Roxxon, let alone putting a sizeable dent in their fiscal bottom line. Take it as a compliment luv," he suggests. "Everyone likes the idea of getting a lick or two in on the big blokes. You popped Roxxon on the nose and walked away. It's t'yer credit."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"That so...?" Jessica turns to look at Randy, eyeing him as she wonders whether to say anything at all. Then again, she's not likely to become a regular here, so she drops it and returns her attention to John. "Hey, at least you have a healthy relationship here, those are tough to come by."

Jessica spends a second considering John's solid logic, and then smirks, "well, I'm a one woman show running a P.I. agency, and the compeition in this city features large firms, with executives and fancy stuff like that..." she starts but eventually nods, "...if you're really keeping record, then yes, Alias Investigations scored a few surprising wins, no doubt, and my natural charm making connections in hospitals, NYPD and some morgues certainly helps."

She laughs at the 'walked away' part, noting, "not without a freakin' ninja death cult attack, but yeah, I am kinda still alive...god that deserves a drink," and just as she was about to raise her voice and ask Randy if he even got her order, she's actually served a nice bottle of whiskey, no label, so she can tell it's probably top shelf. If the shelf was underneath a sewage somewhere. "Thank you, Randy," she murmurs, before resting her hand on the table, "...street cred doesn't go to specifics though, I take it you heard of The Hand, John?"

John Constantine has posed:
John scratches his thumbnail against his jaw and looks across the bar with a distant expression. The motion scrapes a quiet sussurance from his stubble. The bar's filled with the constant low hum of cheap gambling kiosks and pressurized equipment, but empty enough at the moment that they aren't likely to be overheard. The only people sober enough to be conscious look like the kind of people with too many personal problems to do any eavesdropping.

"The Hand, huh? Heard of 'em," he acknowledges. "Never tangled with them myself. They've a bit of a reputation. Mostly active in Asia, aren't they?" he hazards. "I hear sometimes the Triad brings them on as hired guns. Supposed to be ... ninjas, is that the word?"

Jessica Jones has posed:
"I thought that would be how you picked on the Roxxon stuff, you having a talent for...actual fucking magic was it?" Jessica asks, a raised brow suggests she herself doesn't quite believe her own words, but she knows better than to doubt it. "You'd be surprised, they really love Hell's Kitchen like you wouldn't believe...they got hooks in Roxxon." She laughs as John expresses the same doubt she had to the concept of the mystical martial arts, "yup, they do karate magic and shit."

John Constantine has posed:
"There's a lotta magic out there," Join points out with a wry expression. "Voodoo mambos, anthromancers, conjurers, umbral dancers... it's hard t' keep track of every little cult and club with a catchy name and a gimmick. Then again, I don't deal much with the Asian gangs," he reflects. "I thought they were more active on the Pacific coast. Here I'm more likely to blunder into a coven of witches or a vampire nest."

He sniffs the air in lieu of a shrug and pours himself a few sloppy fingers of whiskey into the glass in front of him. "But orright, point taken, the Hand's dangerous and they're active in New York. And apparently interested in Roxxon." He looks to Jessica, and makes a subtle 'go on' gesture with his free hand.

Jessica Jones has posed:
The more specific names for different variants of magic users John introduces Jess to, the wider her eyes open, and she eventually reaches for a healthy swig of her bottle, just to wash down the disturbing thought. "...that's fucking wonderful..." she gives her honest opinion of the matter. "Wait, hold up, don't tell me...now vampires and witches are a thing too?" Jessica looks utterly stunned, before extending her hand towards John, palm upturned, "can you give it a quick look and tell if I'm cursed? Because I think I am..."

When he motions for her to go on, she actually leans in, knowing at least thanks to Elektra that she shouldn't take the name lightly, she asks, "does the words Black Sky mean anything to you?"

John Constantine has posed:
John turns to face Jessica and takes her palm in his hands. His shirtsleeves are cuffed back enough to reveal a couple of tattoos on his wrists and forearm, and his otherwise fair skin is weathered as if from intense heat and scarred by myriad misadventure. His grip is firm but dextrous and a keen eye would note the calluses of a musician on his fingerpads.

He makes a show of looking over Jessica's hand, examining her fingers, palms, and inner wrist with his roving fingertips, and then gives her a mischevious look when she leans in. "Not seeing a curse here, luv, but Black Sky could mean any number of things," he tells her. "Like I said, lot of fish swim in this particular sea. I'd need to know a bit more about these Hand blokes. Japanese, right?" he hazards. "Diviners would be among the Onymoji sect, but they could be Kotodama disciples or even Shinto animalists. I, er, don't have my reference library handy," he says, and manages to look a little sheepish. "I'd need to go digging and find some translation texts while I'm at it."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"So...you are a body art enthusiast, or are those magical in nature?" Jessica asks curiously as she spots some of John's tattoos. She does appear relieved when John's quick checkup shows no curse hanging over her head, "well, that's a damned good thing, because I already got enough shit for seven life times..." after having said that, she quips, "we do reincarnate and shit, right? Or is it just boring ass death?" She figured if anyone would know, it's John.

"Yes, Japanese as it gets, like...konichi-fucking-wa level of Japanese." She waves her hand dismissively, "no need, that psycho bitch Elektra probably knows all there is to know about them already, just need to get her to share more...so what are you doing here? Working a case? Or hiding from Power Girl? She seemed dangerous."

John Constantine has posed:
"The ink? A bit of both," John says, enigmatically. "Khmerian yantra art, a bit of Celtic credchad glas. This one--" he points to faded, thin blue ink that says 'punk 4ever' on his left forearm-- "was a drunken dare when I was a daft little tyke of seventeen hanging around with some hoodlums. Blunt needle and blue paint, and an arseload of liquor."

He takes a swig from his glass and tops it off. "As for the 'here', it's not by choice, trust me." The bar's given a scornful look. "But my regular digs are a little unavaiable at the mo'. The innkeep here takes cash and the bar lets me run a tab. I've stayed in worse hovels in the past. It'll do until I can put some scratch together and get a proper room in the city. Somewhere I don't have to smell bilge dumping out my window in the wee hours."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"Cool, cool, I think I heard of the Boston Celtics," she says because of course Jess would give a smartass comment. "Well, let's drink to the fact there's one mistake you've made that I haven't, that's impressive," she raises the bottle in toast and proceeds to drink some more. She's pretty well covered though, so John will just have to take her word for it. She looks for a moment, seriously at John, then asks, "your drinking...pleasure? Or did life hit you head on in the face and it's the only way you find the strength to make it to the next day?"

John Constantine has posed:
John digs a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket along with a battered, deeply engraved silver lighter. It's a matter of a few motions to start a fresh cigarette going and he inhales deeply as if the minute he went without one left him feeling empty inside.

"Professional case worker, professional drinker. Goes hand in hand," John tells Jessica. "Some days it's for clarity, some days it's to help me forget things. Some days it's just a sleep aid."

Ice cubes rattle in his glass and he uplifts his chin at Jessica. "You and that bottle seem to be in a deeply committed relationship. Same with the last time I saw you. Though it seemed that brawny bird with the chip on her shoulder was a close second for keeping your attention."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"Ah...so you also dabble in P.I. work?" Jessica asks, surprised, before laughing, "so that's why you feel right at home in a place like this, one of the essential elements to keep your sanity."

It hadn't occured to Jessica she's about emptied half her bottle until John points her deeply committed relationship with it. She turns her eyes to the bottle, tips it a bit, takes another swig and nods, "I'm a serial bottle dater, that's for sure...but that bottle better not think longterm, I flip partners regularly once I empited them of their spirits," Jessica apparently rolls with the punches well enough, and is not beyond joking at her own expense. "...eh..." Jessica muses as she's reminded of her encounter with Brunnhilde, "it's just that we've heard of each other, we got our reputation as chicks who drink hard, so it's always surprising to hear of another woman other say drink harder than yourself...I was curious."

John Constantine has posed:
"Asgardian." John corrects Jessica's words with a careless aside. He sips his drink and looks to her again. "She's not a woman. Well, not a human one, anyway," he clarifies. "You've seen the Avengers on the telly, right? That big blonde bloke, Thor, with the hammer? He's her king. Wouldn't recommend bringing the topic up around her though, she's a bit prickly when it comes to that particular topic. You've a rep as a hardy sort, luv, don't mistake me," he says apologetically. "But going drink to drink with that lass, you might as well pickle your liver up front and save yourself some money."

"As for the PI work-- don't worry, I'm not likely to get in your way. I don't even have my PI license. Bloody cheek of the city to demand such a thing. I've little interest in shaking loose dirt on politicians or stealing industrial secrets. Now, demons and trolls snatching wee babes, werewolves loose in Chelsea; that's the sort of thing that demands my time and attention."

Jessica Jones has posed:
"Asgardian...?" Jessica asks John, not even feigning an attempt to mask her disbelief, "get the fuck out of here, she's not Thor. You're telling me she came from Norse Heaven?" Jessica rolls her eyes when she hears of Thor being Brunnhilde's King, before smirking, "well, that answers why she's drinking."

Jessica smirks, "sounds to me like she's cheating by being a fucking Goddess or whatever the fuck she is..." she shakes her head and sighs, "good thing I didn't challenge her, because I was going to, she hurt my prestige at Josie's, people telling me another chick drinks harder than I do, it's insulting really. I mean, what more do I have besides drinking? How she gonna steal the one thing I excel at?"

"...." Jessica stares at John a good while after the mention of demons and trolls, she empties the rest of the bottle and asks, "can you repeat?" If affirmed, she will shake her head, "no need to worry about me stepping on your turf either. I'm not going to fuck with demons, and I deal with enough trolls online."

John Constantine has posed:
"You heard right," John confirms. He finishes up the last few gulps of whisky straight from the bottle and sets it next to his empty glass. "But like I said-- wouldn't repeat it to her. She's got some beef with him and nearly broke my back when I brought it up. Bit of a pissy bint if you ask me," he remarks.

"Much as I'd love to stay and chat, I've a project I'm in the middle of and there's a bit of a deadline attached." His scattered notes are neatly piled and rolled into a cylinder in his hand. "And as I'm dreading doing it sober, I'm going to get it finished before the buzz wears off. Au revoir, as the French say," he bids Jessica, and gathers up a tan overcoat from the hook near his chair. "Maybe we'll bump into each other again soon."