Pulling his bike in at the nearby lot, Hector spends several moments fixing up clothing and exchanging his tooth necklace for a necktie after clambering off.
T.J. tugs on his sport coat.
It's a fancy, black limo with tinted windows that pulls up outside the lobby of the popular Pulse nightclub. The driver comes around, opening the back door for the two women inside, Lia and Eva. Their heels clack upon the sidewalk once they're stepped out and made their way towards the elevator entrance with some familiarity.
"I need this," Lia admits to Eva as they approach the club, leaving the confines of their sexy-ass limo behind them. Or Satan's sexy-ass limo; it's got Harwood's plates and all.
"I fucking need this more," Eva murmurs back towards Lia, her thumb and forefinger moving up to pinch at her nose. "You look hot tonight, dame. Let's kinda give a fuck you to all those people we hate and uh..." Her blue-green orbs cruise over the length of the line, and she rolls her eyes, moving out to take ahold of Lia's arm and then saunter her way towards the bouncers, "You know the drill. Look hot."
Lia thinks; 'You mean 'exist'? I can do that.'
Eva feels moderate suffering.
Jerome pulls up in a brand new Dodge Charger. He exits about the time Eva and Lia do and makes his way up behind them. "Hey there ladies." he drawls out pleasantly.
Eva feels a little dull.
Eva thinks; 'I don't want to fucking be around any fucking guys tonight.'
Sunday night at the club is slow, though in this busy city, it still means a fair amount of business. Tonight it's the hardcore partiers out, these obvious by the way they're already drugged up, noses white with a little bit of powder or glittery with the newest stuff on the street. It's all dilated eyes and fast talking and drugged out giggling around you. On the plus side, there is no line-- they're letting everyone in tonight. Valets offer to park your car for you from the curbside, but there's a garage right next door for you to walk from.
T.J. walked her from the garage, so he politely declines the valet service. He eyes the people who are drugged out as they teeter past him.
Hector beats some dust off the side of his briefcase with the palm of his hand as he strolls out from the lot where he parked over towards the club. Stopping a bit off from where the line might form on other nights, the man mills around casually as if waiting for something, looking over some of the club goers as they pass.
"So you want me to exist?" Lia wonders to Eva, countering her suggestion of 'look hot'; she opens her mouth like she's going to speak more, but Jerome's voice causes her to stop talking and glance over her shoulder. "Oh. Hey," she offers in greeting, rubbing at the back of her neck, "My head is killing me..."
"I think we know where we need to go," Eva murmurs towards Lia, her left thumb shoved hard into the pocket of her jeans and a doleful look somewhat fixed upon Jerome when he approaches. Despite this, she manages out towards him with a little nod, "Uh. Hey Jerome. Like... yeah. You uh... look nice tonight." There's not a lot of dedication to the praising, her focus averting once more to study the crowds - especially those drugged, swallowing down something hard.
Lia feels moderate suffering.
Lia feels eager to get her hands on more of the -- what was it? Quicksilver? Quicksilver.
Eva feels an aching need to get high tonight. Satan's words and check-ins might've made her feel a lot better-- less stupid. But that doesn't help that sinking humiliation and overall anger that's been flooding her since she received those text messages. In fact, she's mostly just attempting not to get into a fight-- a fight she wouldn't win. Sometimes it sucks being skinny.
Hector feels good. Maybe it's the buzz from nearby suffering, but things don't feel totally bad.
"Gonna be ah long night." Jerome offers Eva and Lia easily, "Good or bad we'll have ta see." he turns his gaze to Eva and quickly checks her out, "Ya look great." he replies honestly.
The door to the club is just up ahead, through the lobby and down the elevator. There might be an awkward moment in the elevator, depending on whether or not you all pile in.
A muted scoff escapes Lia. "Eva always looks nice," she insists, true to she-bro form, before giving Jerome a curious look before sucking in an audible breath and wondering -- as if she's trying to pretend it's no big thing, "You come alone?"
You know you're going to have to get into the VIP lounge in order to look into this drug.
Lia thinks; 'Why would Crowe bother coming to this sort of thing.'
"Oh... it's going to be a good night. And time will fly by. This club-- their shit? Yeah. You're at the right place." Eva remarks then, her lips curling with an upwards hitch on one side-- making the smile far more like a smirk than anything else. She swallows again, the compliment from Jerome actually having her shift a little, discomforted. "Well, uh. Thanks, Jerome. For real." With her arm mostly slid into Lia's own, she attempts to lead the hot, coltish teenager in with her towards the elevator, slinking with the woman near the wall once she leads her inside and attempting to press against it.
That briefcase will probably get you into the VIP lounge, which would be the best place to look into this drug that has been flooding the clubs of Boston.
Hector pops the earbud from his ear and jams it into his pocket as he waits where he was standing. After a couple seconds more of looking around he shrugs his shoulders and heads for the entrance. He upnods the bouncers and offers them a casual smile as he approaches them.
Eva thinks; 'You got dressed up so that you could feel awkward at the compliments? Idiot. But no. That's not it, is it? You got dressed up so you could make yourself feel better. And then you want to just get pissy at everyone who checks you out. Much. Better. Plan.'
Hector thinks; 'Wasn't I supposed to meet somebody? Fuck. Ah well. Maybe he's inside.'
Eva feels moderate suffering.
T.J. heads toward the door, since they're letting everyone in. He might upnod someone he spots in the crowd as if he knows them.
"Who would I come with?" Jerome replies with a shrug. "And don't worry, ain't gonna be botherin' you two all night. Know ya got better things to do thank babysit a stockbroker." then he's patting his vest down and adjusting his tie.
(to Snowman) (Privately)T.J. might know them from various cases, good or bad.
Their skill is: 1
Jerome says, more to himself, 'Should have wore the Armani suit..'
"Just, uh..." Lia trails off, making some sort of fluttering movement with her hand as she's lead by Eva off toward the elevator and hunkering against the wall herself. "Mister Blue Eyes or something," she mumbles, sounding thoroughly disheartened, and looking the part.
You spot a few familiar faces gussied up for a night out. This may be an upscale club, but some of the boys from the projects have made it here to deal. You know your drug in question is probably going to be peddled largely out of the private rooms, though.
Eva's weight shifts to the side, providing plenty of room for either Hector or T.J. to get into the elevator with them. The combined weight of the skinny woman and her coltish companion isn't exactly a dominating space. "I don't think anyone's gonna care what you look like, Cupcake," she mentions towards Jerome, though she isn't exactly looking at the rather good-looking man, "Trust me. You wanna party? You wanna make your like... well, anything fucking bad get away? Well, you're at the right place. That's all I'm gonna say."
(Subtly)"Fuck Mister Blue Eyes. Fuck Jay too. Lying fucking piece of fucking--" Eva was on her way towards a healthy ramble when her upper teeth bite down hard into her lower lip and then she's staring to the side again, "Fuck. Why did we like not get fucked up first in the car?" And then her attention is flicking up towards those elevator numbers, "... Is this thing fucking moving?"
T.J. will step into the elevator. Jerome looks over at Eva and flashes a grin, "Hear this stuff is better than the blow I got when I was a millionaire." he offers vaguely with a roll of his hand.
"It's better than any blow you got as a millionaire," Eva promises towards Jerome, leading Lia with familiarity through the club.
Eva awkwardly departs past you. Lia has her arm linked with the other chick's as she lopes past you.
Hector slides on into the elevator with his briefcase as well.
Eva purposefully seems to veer away from the coat check once she's made it through the double-doors, tersely sucking in a dry breath as she looks down at her heeled feet. She presents Lia with a quick flash of a smile, but it's short-lived and waning, and then she's already trying to pass by bouncers to head deeper, if she's able.
(Subtly)"I wouldn't mind fucking Mister Blue eyes," Lia huffs softly at Eva before looking a bit frustrated, "I fucking hate him. He's an annoying, lying... Gorgeous... Fucking ass..."
Inside, the club is maybe half to three-quarters full. Drinks are free flowing. Coat check will take any jackets or bags for you, but no one insists. Beyond, the dance floor beckons, and beyond that, there are two bouncers arrayed outside what is probably the VIP lounge.
Jerome catches up with Lia and Eva once more after a moment, "Know where I can get hooked up?" he asks relatively quietly.
(Subtly)"I'm... so not going to fucking... fuck anyone. Fucking. Ever. Fucking--" Eva was in the middle of her girlish rant of bonding towards Lia when Jerome comes up from behind. She ticks her chin up at him, sniffling a little, "Yeah. Just like... follow us."
Eva thinks; 'I'll be more social when I fucking... do a line. Or ten.'
Eva thinks; 'Or twenty.'
(Subtly)Lia echoes the sniff, her arm tightening around Eva's as they try to press further into the club. "I don't even know why I'm thinking about him -- he -- I -- Eugh. I fucking wanted /him/ and I got /Dominic/ and Dominic... Dominic..." She trails off and starts bitching in gibberish. Or probably bitching in gibberish. She sounds incensed.
Eva thinks; 'Fuck. I want a bag to myself. Lia can get her own fucking bag.'
Eva feels moderate suffering when they feels way too fucking sober.
T.J. thinks; 'White chicks.'
T.J. thinks; 'Crimany. '
Jerome feels moderate suffering when they bum knee is acting up.
Hector straightens up his back and fixes his tie a little more with his free hand. Trying to put on his best, 'business-look' expression, he removes his sunglasses and looks over the club after passing by the coatcheck.
T.J. smirks at something perhaps private, He also exchanges a brief, terse glance with someone in the crowd how probably gives him a wide berth.
Lia feels moderate suffering when they has a rush of Blood Lord envy -- fuck Liam for lying..
Jerome feels moderate suffering when they bum knee is acting up.
Pulse - Dance Floor: Jerome heads onto the dance floor with a confident swagger only broken by a slight limp.
Pulse - Dance Floor: Writhing bodies twine against each other on the dance floor, but it's the VIP lounge Eva, Lia and perhaps Jerome are now intent on. The bouncers part after giving the ladies lingering looks, letting them in without stopping Jerome, whom they give an up down look over as he passes. Are T.J. and Hector moving with them?
Pulse - Dance Floor: Jerome seems intent on following the attractive pair to the source. So, yes, he does indeed head into the vip lounge after the women.
Pulse - Dance Floor: T.J. will try to get Jerome's attention.
Lia feels mild suffering.
Pulse - Dance Floor: Hector heads towards the VIP area as well, once he spots it through the lights and thronging bodies. He (mostly gently) tries to slip through the crowd over in that direction.
Pulse - Dance Floor: Jerome looks over at T.J. and flashing a two finger salute before typing something out on his phone as he walks.
Jerome texts Elena: Lia looks like she's addicted to quicksilver. Eva too. Jerome types a message out on their phone.
Hector feels a flicker of anticipation at getting through these bouncers. It'd be best to get through cleanly, but slugging someone would sure feel good too.
Pulse - VIP Lounge: Jerome soon slips in once T.J. catches up.
Pulse - VIP Lounge: T.J. taps at his phone briefly before falling in line behind Jerome.
You probably have enough experience with this kind of thing, being Temple, to know that they'll want you to grease their palms or show what kind of favors you've got in your case.
Pulse - VIP Lounge: Unlike the rest of the club, the VIP lounge is as packed as it might be on a Friday night. Lia's friend the bartender/dealer is behind the counter working, and doesn't take immediate note of either of the ladies or their companions. T.J. slips through after Jerome without too much trouble, being attached to the ladies.
Pulse - VIP Lounge: "I can't fucking believe I fucking fell for it again," Eva quietly continues to bitch towards Lia, perhaps for the sake of Jerome who was moderately following behind them. She's heading with a one-track mind directly for the bar, "... That like he wasn't fucking with his old lady anymore and shit, that like... he fucking liked me. I can't -believe- I fucking let myself into that shit. He's fucking... blaming it on drugs. That fucking cockboy slut whore. He wasn't even fucking drugged." That thready bit of anger has seeped into the skinny woman's smoke-affected voice, but she's clearing her throat, swinging her head back towards T.J. and Jerome, mentioning their way, "... Like... hit up the workers at the bar." And that seems directly where the woman is heading, fishing out hundred dollar bills from her wallet.
Pulse - VIP Lounge: Eva thinks; 'Thank you Satan. For spoiling the fuck out of me with your devilish fucking money. Best. Dad. Ever.'
Pulse - VIP Lounge: T.J. thinks; 'I hate white chicks. '
Pulse - VIP Lounge: Eva feels moderate suffering.
Pulse - Dance Floor: (Subtly)Not to obvious about it, Hector withdraws some bills from his pocket and shoots the bouncers a knowing look.
Pulse - VIP Lounge: T.J. narrows his eyes from the stream of anger pouring out of Eva. At her mention of the bar, he glances at Jerome and someone and starts to approach it.
Pulse - VIP Lounge: heads over with Eva and Lia, "Sounds like an issues I could have told you that you had coming." Jerome repies casually to the bitching pair. "Shit happens.. be pissed at him all you wants. Sometimes it's best to get fucked up and forgive.. Or at least get fucked up and slash tires."
The bigger of the bouncers offers Hector his hand as though in a shake to take the money, presuming it's a twenty or above, then allows you to pass through.
Pulse - VIP Lounge: "We have shit taste in men," is all Lia replies to Eva bluntly, not nearly as sympathetic as a girlfriend should be, but she quickly proves she's quite the friend: "We could still try and get him to crawl naked and beg forgiveness; you could be all empowered and shit. If Satan won't do it, I'll ask grampa how." Her gait is a long, gazelle-like stride as she and the cropped-haired woman make their way toward the bar. Jerome's last words have her musing, "Or we could slash his tires and fuck up his old lady; she doesn't look so tough."
Pulse - Dance Floor: Hector heads in towards the VIP lounge after handing off several bills on the downlow. He probably doesn't even make much eyecontact as he enters.
Pulse - VIP Lounge: Jerome adjusts his tie a bit as he follows along, "Kyne or Liam?" he asks after a moment, "Not that I give even close to half a shit." at least he's honest about somethings.
Jerome meant some things. He thinks.
"I thought about that too. But nah. I'm just... hands fucking off. I don't fucking care if I'm being fucking chased down by a fucking zombie in the middle of the misty--- fuck mist-- street. I'm just... not gonna fall for that shit again. So let's just... get fucked up," By now, Eva has made her way over towards the bar and if her and Lia's looks haven't gotten the bartender's attention, hopefully the three hundred dollar bills she carelessly tosses through towards the working man will. "I need two bags of the only thing that will do it for me right now, babe." Her lips peel back slightly at Jerome's words, wincing-- but similar to Lia, she doesn't seem *that* upset, "Ooooh. Don't mention Crowe. That's opening a bad can of words, Sugar."
T.J. leans on the bar and either orders a drink or purloins one, if the bartenders are really pouring the drinks that freely. He starts to look them over.
"Figured as much." Jerome offers with a shrug, he doesn't seem intent on buying right now, just checking out. "And I second what was said earlier. Shit taste in men. Fucking a guy in Haven is like begging the lord of shit for genital warts." he drawls out dryly. "It's like a goddamned mating ball with the women and men here."
Lia huffs softly, her hand smacking down against the edge of the bar as she pulls a few bills from her bra. "Fucking Crowe. I bet I'm better looking than all of the girls he hooks up with -- and I didn't even want to hook up with him. I just wanted... I just... Eugh, do you know what he said to me? I ask what it'd take and he answers a fucking blowjob," she bitches liberally, "Then I finally get him to say yes and by the end of it, he's gone and back to not talking to me and I get Dominic -- I love Dom, but Lord almighty, if I'm going to be /meat/, I want a good fucking butcher." Her rage is sort of palpable. Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Well, not here. In Haven.'
Lia feels moderate suffering.
Eva and Lia are now within a few feet of the bar. Their friend, who we shall call Tuna, looks up and casts a wide grin in their direction. "Hello, ladies. Back for a little more? Don't wear yourselves out, now." He pours a couple of drinks for them and subtly stashes the baggies-- three of them, it seems -- under a thick club magazine handed out with the bags. T.J. pays for a drink; they have beer and cocktails. Most people here appear to be drinking cocktails. Hector, meanwhile, has just made his way into the lounge and is on the far side of the room.
You can practically taste the quicksilver as you see a flash of the glittery, silvery substance tucked under the magazine. An anticipatory rush trickles up your spine.
Lia feels the dull ache of her heart thudding in her chest. Jerome shakes his head slightly. "I only hooked up with one of the Moore's.. And she hasn't talked to me much afterwards." It's his turn to grump now apparently. "It's like it takes more than being able to offer companionship, gifts, and orgasms to get a woman's attention."
You can practically taste the quicksilver as you see a flash of the glittery, silvery substance tucked under the magazine. You know it'll dull all the anger you're feeling.
"I've only been with one. Just one. In that godforsaken fucking misty town of fucking ... shit. Fuck. I really liked him too." Eva had begin to curl her fingers at the magazines, a little obviously done with haste. But Lia's words have her affected by a cruel sort of laugh as she tucks her vibrating phone into the back of her pocket, "Hah. Haaaah. That's fucking... kinda hilarious. Actually. No offense, I mean. I'm uh... real fucking pissed for you though." She doesn't look pissed, in fact, she's grinning a little at this point as she turns to look the other way-- but there's no way she leaves the magazines on the bar. All of them, AND the baggies, are tucked possessively in her arms and then she's carting herself off towards an open booth with a bit of speed to her dangerously-heeled stride-- leaving Lia to follow behind or not.
Jerome whistles over for a cocktail and a baggy. Then he's following along with the pair once more.
Eva feels like Satan spoils the shit out of her.
The three hundred-dollar bills Lia slips out from her bra are placed down on the bar with Eva's as the girl continues her quiet rant. "I'm still a virgin, so there's no hooking up -- I don't -- I just -- why the /fuck/ do you get such a nice one when Crowe won't even, like... Talk to me?" the Inigo girl accuses Eva, "I just..." Trailing off, she shrugs awkwardly, her eyes roaming over the counter. "I just need to stop thinking about it. Dominic's probably leaving me anyways."
T.J. sips his cocktail and leans on the bar, idly listening to various conversations, especially those that blatantly involve club drugs. He rolls his eyes slightly.
Hector make his way through the room over towards the bar. He might glance towards Eva and Lia like once, but mostly his attention is focused on getting the bartender's. "Hey," he goes, subtly transfering some money taken from his jacket onto the bartop. "Gimme two, for now, would you?"
T.J. rolls his eyes at what appears to be pretty much nonexistent caution in the entire club.
Eva feels like you have no caution whatsoever.
(to Snowman) (Privately)Hector offers the 150 need for two up on the bartop.
Eva feels like you had no caution last time. Eva feels like you have no caution this time. Eva feels oblivious of the white dude who maybe isn't so relaxed. slightly when Lia feels the dull ache of her heart throbbing in her skull.
Lia feels mild suffering when they feels the dull ache of her heart throbbing in her skull..
"You with them?" asks the bartender, giving Jerome a once-over. "Hey," he starts to call after Lia, "are they cool?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure," Lia answers the guy behind the bar, her fingers drumming against the top of the bar, onetwothreefourfive.
(to Snowman) (Privately)T.J. texts Reggie: You think you could get one of the guys in lab to analyze something for me on the DL?
(to Snowman) (Privately)T.J. is also clearing all texts he sends to Reggie and receives from him AS SOON AS HE sends or receives them.
Jerome looks over at Lia, "If you're into Liam you really do have shit taste." he offers pleasantly enough, "Guy's likely to throw you head first through a concrete wall."
"That's why I like him," Lia replies blandly, "I'm a sick kitten."
"Why the fuck would Dominic leave you? Aren't you guys like... related? I like that cat. He bought me wine," Eva decides, squishing into the rather roomy booth -- enough room that others could probably join them with no issues. She's already busy folding the magazine into a tri-fold and tugging out one of those baggies with the beautiful glittery substance. Just seeming to see it causes her to expel a breath, likely lost within the din of the crowd, and then she speaks to it, of all the things, "But you won't fuck me up until the end, will you?" Fumbling in her purse has her tugging out a pack of cigarettes, a cut black barstraw jammed down in with the filters and that's what she removes. "Jasen fucking threw me into a wall," she pipes up towards Jerome, "... Because apparently I'm a shitty ninja. But that was like... before all the tea-shit. I love you as a sick Kitten, Lia."
You don't get an immediate response from Reggie. He might be having dinner. "Can't stand him. He's the worst fucking kind of bigot." Jerome calls out to Eva. "Sounds like you two have the same problems I had back when I had money.. Don't have to worry about that shit anymore. Partly because people in Haven call me old. Partially because I don't really give a fuck anymore."
T.J. slips up to the bar and passes the ninety bucks to the bartender.
"He's not that fucking bad," Eva begins to defend towards Jerome, almost immediately, "... I mean, he has his fucking problems, sure, but---" And then her voice begins to cut off some and she's glancing back down towards the powder, "Anyways. I'm not fucking here for that. I'm here for this. So hurry up and cart your asses over here. And uh... I guess whoever is flocking around you, Lia-Lia-Love."
The bartender squints at Lia, then shrugs and says to Jerome, "Okay," giving both him and Hector, who is right behind him now, a steady look. The boys get their drugs, though first they are asked, "You guys cops?" dutifully. Assuming the answer is no, there is no problem with this, at least for now. Back in this room, people are being pretty open about just snorting this stuff.
Lia snatches up whatever supply the bartender slid to her, less careful about it than Eva, huffing a quiet breath and opting not to reply to the talk about her cousin. "Yeah, well, you're the only one," she tells her addicted cohort, swiveling her hip to press her lower back against the bar, "I don't have /any/ problems. That's sort of the problem -- I'd love for him to be my problem, but he hates me, because my aunt was fucking psycho or something and he hates my grandfather and..." Trailing off, her fingers tear into one of the baggies, not bothering to make any careful lines; with a well-manicured pinky nail, she brings a collection of the glittery substance to her right nostril, inhaling it abruptly.
"Nope," T.J. will say to the bartender when asked. "I'm not a cop."
The 'quicksilver', as it's called, is served in little baggies stamped with the Eye of Providence, and it is a glittering, powdered substance in a bright shade of silver. Street names for it include glitter and sparkle.
T.J. thinks; 'Cops hafta play by the rules. '
Hector's eyes roll at the bartender suggesting. Offering an amused snort, he asks as he exchanges his mess of bills for two baggies, "Seriously? Hell no, do I look like a cop?"
Jerome tucks the bag of stuff into an interior pocket and heads off behind Lia, "Not here to argue either." he tells the druggie women. He settles in as to not interrupt them before looking around. "I'll leave ya to it in a moment, just making sure Lia doesn't battle any giant squids or wolf coats for Elena." Hector feels actually a little angry he thought you looked like a cop.
OOC: One second guys, let me get something handled.
That gratifying rush starts almost immediately when you take that first sniff, though you can tell it'll be three or four lines before you get really high. The lights are a little brighter, though, and your mood lifts with that sweet glittery powder.
That gratifying rush starts almost immediately when you take that first sniff, though you can tell it'll be two, maybe three lines before you get really high. The lights are a little brighter, though, and your mood lifts with that sweet glittery powder.
"Giant squids aren't real," Lia mutters, repeating the process in her left nostril before halting and giving Eva a sidelong glance. "...are they? Has Satan ever brought up giant squids?" The speculation in her voice is evident; she would apparently believe they're real. Silly kid.
Eva speedily divides the glittery powder into fat, horizontal lines, her left index finger pressing against her nostril as she leans down over the substance-- immediately making one disappear within the course of a single inhale. There's no tasting for purity or anything else and it's less than a minute later that she's downed the second one, "... This is the only fucking way to like... forget this shit. At least for tonight. Just tonight. Tomorrow will be normal. I'll hate myself this fucking evening, but no worse when Satan told me that I deserved fucking better. Or at least if I was gonna be retarded, that I should know what I'm getting into." Her head tilts backwards, pinching at her nose with a suffering wince and then she's inviting Hector, Jerome and apparently even T.J. also to join them in the booth with a curl of her hand, "Fuck. Come over here. Join us. Or something. Just don't drool. Or throw up. Cuz fucking gross. It'll have us stop chatting."
Jerome looks over at Lia, "Yes... They are." he's already in the booth. "Look at this shit." he tugs his phone back out and searches stuff.
(to Lia) (Privately)Jerome has a national geographic page pulled up on Giant Squid. http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/invertebrates/giant-squid/ Lia slouches in the booth once she's settled with Eva, licking the fingertip she used to snort up some of the glittery powder. "That's not what I meant," she tells Jerome, dark eyes darting to look at Hector and T.J. a moment. Then she sets up a proper line and quickly disappears the entire thing using a tightly-rolled bill -- how Scarface of her.
T.J. turns back to the bartender. "Betta make it a double," he says, sliding more money onto the counter. "I gotta feeling the ladies'll need more than that. Save 'em the trip." Assuming he receives a second packet, he heads over to the booth and slides in, setting his half-finished cocktail on the table in front of him. He nods at Hector.
Jerome turns his gaze over to Eva for a moment. He probably checks her out before nodding at Lia, "I know.. But that's trippy as fuck. Sixty-foot squid." Hector squints down at the bags he's been passed. Weighing them carefully in one hand like he's considering something, he soon pops one into his briefcase all business-like and the other into one of his jacket's pockets. "I don't drool," he calls back towards Eva and Lia's booth.
A weight lifts from your back with the second line, and the lights grow brighter, and the shadows darker, starting to dance at the edge of your vision. You feel the urge to keep going.
Jerome says (to Hector), calling over, ' I do sometimes. Can't help it.'
"Giant squid," T.J. mutters under his breath.
OOC: Are any of the guys cracking the bags open? Jerome hasn't yet.
"I hope fucking Jasen gets eaten by a sixty-foot squid," Eva rambles out, continuously-- horrible fucking company. She doesn't seem incredibly concerned though, her identification card proving to be an excellent instrument as she cuts out more lines of the glittery powder, commenting towards Hector through more rapid-fire words, "Good. Drooling's fucking gross. Same with throwing up. It was my birthday yesterday. Ya'll should wish me like... happy fucking birthday. Late. Or whatever. And then have some of this shit. Because it's amazing." She proclaims this as her third little bump is devoured and then she's slinking down somewhat in her booth beside Lia, comfortably. Hector hasn't. Instead he wanders on over towards wherever T.J. is standing, one hand in the pocket he stuck his one bag of drugs and the other gripping his briefcase.
Jerome looks over at Eva, "Fuck, that's who you were fucking?" his jaw drops a bit but it's soon back up. "Hope that guy gets hit by a tee-pee-ess armored van."
T.J. hasn't cracked his yet. He puts on into his jacket pocket and sets the other on the table in front of him. For now he is content to nurse his cocktail and listen to conversations about womanizing men, giant squids, drooling, birthdays, and other varied subjects. He's sitting in the booth, but makes room for Hector.
"Apparently Honey threw up at grampa's meeting," Lia blurts, content to slouch in the booth with Eva, "Dae said it was, apparently, mind-scarring. I bet she looked fucking ugly." Despite her talking, her speech is a bit quiet -- a bit slow, a bit distracted -- and she's staring at the table with more attentiveness than anyone ever gives a table ever.
Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'I'm not a huge fan of our red 'skinned' havenites... But I don't think they deserve to die just because they are what they are.'
Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Makes him sound like Jaspar, you know?'
The beat is thrumming around you, some upbeat remix in a major key good for inducing positive emotions. Tuna the bartender has returned to mixing drinks at the bar, occasionally handing out more mirrored trays with covered drugs. There is not much to distinguish the scene so far from any other drug-laden back room of a club.
T.J. nods slowly, maybe at Jerome's comment, maybe to the beat of club music, maybe in approval of the cocktail he's working on. '
Hector sits beside T.J. then. Grabbing a cocktail on his way, he slouches down in his seat and plucks a somehow not-all-mashed-up cigarette from his pocket and lights it up with a metal lighter.
Depending on where Jerome was sitting, Eva's lean against Lia gets a little heavier because that nice metal heel that sports on the bottom of those killer shoes is trying to kick Jerome half-heartedly in either his thigh or his shin,
"Don't fucking look like that! God fucking Christ." And then she's huffing out an irritated breath, reaching for -more- of the powder, complaining quietly beneath her breath, "He like... I dunno. He was fucking sly, alright? I fucking... I fucking... believed him." And then suddenly the woman is shaking her head, laying a cigarette case on the table and scooting it towards Lia, "Oh. Fuck. Honey. Shit. Rainbow Brite like bought me a fucking cigarette case with joints in it. Like, I barely know the dame. It wasn't as nice as Oz's fucking saddlebags, but like... he's my bestie."
Hector thinks; 'Huh. Jasen slept with that chick? Hah.'
(to Hector) (Privately)T.J. is casing the room, cop-style.
Lia snorts quietly. "And I got you water balloons -- she's some sort of awful social climber, I bet she didn't pay for it with her own money," the girl says sourly; little miss Debbie Downer, snorting another line of quicksilver off the table as Eva leans in to try and kick Jerome.
That glittery substance is beckoning you from the tray. You really want another line.
Jerome nods at Eva, he takes the half-hearted kick and is soon brushing it off. He's wearing nice slacks. "Shit.. If you wanted a sly older guy should have given me a call." he grump halfheartedly, "Not married or in a prior relationship." and then his bag is out and he does a line all professional like. He's clearly had an issue with blow before.
You think another line would be great right about now.
Hector's attention drifts from those at the booth to people wandering the VIP section as he smokes his cigarette. Maybe he's checking out chicks, or something.
Jerome tugs his phone out to check it. He sticks to one-line for now, never having done the stuff before.
A vibration from Eva's phone has the woman pulling it out of her pocket and then she's chewing on her lip as she looks down at it. "... Speaking of Oz." Her free hands curl just in front of the semi-cracked screen, but she doesn't type on it yet. Instead, she's shaking her head and trying to make another line disappear. Her fourth. "I loved the balloons --- But no. Uh. I wasn't... looking for fucking anyone. We just... clicked. I dunno. He was a lot fucking deeper than I expected. Well. Until he fucking got deep in one of my friends." That has her with a stolen moment of a blank look and then she's agreeably confessing towards Lia, "You know what? You're right. I have a shitty fucking taste in men. But after tonight, I'm like. Done."
(to Snowman) (Privately)Hector attempt to pick out people higher up than low level drug pushers or drugees with perception.
Jerome looks at his phone for a moment then abruptly turns his head and throws up. His phone hits the table in time for Lia (if she's looking) to see Dominic get executed.
T.J. opens his baggie and abently makes a tiny little bump on the table in front of him. He then gets distracted by something and doesn't sniff it right away. The bag remains open in front of him next to his drink, slightly less than half full. He checks his phone, though he doesn't seem to have anything on it that catches his attention. He glances up and over and probably sees the video if the phone is laying on the table.
A loud clatter from Lia's clutch causes the girl to dig into it. Luckily, this means she's not looking at the table when the phone clatters. Probably for the best, really...
Lia gets a pale, pastel-purple tablet from a pocket.
You see a couple of what are probably mid-level underworld guys hanging around one of the booths in the back, but no one who would represent a high level dealer. So far, the bartender is the major lead.
Jerome quickly collects the phone then looks over at Lia.
(to Jerome) (Privately)T.J. gives you a WTF look.
Jerome types out something on shaky hands.
The vomiting, unfortunately, attracts negative staff presence. A bouncer is at your booth within seconds, saying to Jerome, "Come on, fella. Time to get you out of here."
T.J. glances at Jerome.
Jerome shakes his head at the bouncer. "It's not the drugs." he replies truthfully. "Some sick fucker sent me a video execution spam email."
T.J. slides away in the booth to avoid any vomit.
(to Snowman) (Privately)T.J. takes advantage of Jerome's talking to the staff to sweep that bump off the table. He'll fleck his nose with whatever is left on his finger.
Jerome shakes his head and exits out of his email. "Wasn't expecting a snuff film."
The bouncer squints at Jerome and says, "First time I've heard that one. Better head to the bathroom just in case, but I'll get someone here to clean up. Maybe you all should take the next one over, huh?" Though he's soon distracted from the booth by something on his earpiece. "I see it happen again and you're out of here, got it?"
Unfortunately... Lia spends a bit too much time staring at her phone, which plays the words in some video, her cousin's voice and someone else's less familiar. The abrupt sound of the gunshot at the end of it causes her lips to press together, a steady drip of blood trickling a rivulet out of her nostril while her phone gets shoved back into her clutch.
Lia feels strong suffering.
Lia feels her heart jump into her throat, the sting of vomit hanging behind it -- and the very strong urge to cry. Eva hasn't said a single word since the quick glimpse she received of that final execution. In fact, she hasn't moved. She doesn't seem to have been able to listen towards any of the words spoken-- maybe too dazed, her back pressing against the cushions right about the time when Lia receives her own copy of the thing.
Jerome looks over at Lia, "Damn it." he looks over at the bouncer, "Hear that gunshot? She got it too." he looks back at the woman, "You want to head out?" he asks quietly.
probably sitting on the outer edge, Hector shifts away in the booth along with T.J. as well to get outo f the way of whatever vomit there is. For some reason, something about the whole scene causes a smile to involuntarily twitch across the man's features. Lia is no longer AFK.
You receive a message on your phone from Reggie. The message reads: Sure, man. Bring by my place tomorrow.
No one seems to notice you sweeping the line off your table.
T.J. runs a hand through his hair. "Shit," he says. "What the fuck?"
"...my head hurts," is all Lia says in response to Jerome, her fingers curling against her palm and her knuckle moving to press against her eye. Rather than attempt to leave the booth, not bothering to try and move Eva in her daze, the Inigo girl sets up another line and disappears it with her still-bleeding nostril.
Jerome reaches over to rest a hand on Lia's back for a brief moment if she allows it before leaning back. He doesn't say anything else and his quicksilver is soon secured and put back in his suit jacket.
OOC: If anyone wants to head back on grid, it's not a problem, we can pick this up later.
You feel a little twinge of pain in your numbing face as the glitter mixes with your bleeding nose. That soon disappears, however, as the drug overwhelms your grief. The vomit settles back in your stomach. Something seems off about the feeling, though; it isn't quite right.
T.J. glances around the room.
Lia slouches in the booth, wiping her hand against her nostril, bringing it away with blood streaking over the knuckles and the back of her skin. What enthusiasm she had previously is gone, her hand reaching for her tablet as it vibrates on the table, though she doesn't look upset either -- just a bit numb.
(to Snowman) (Privately)T.J. is trying to case the room to see if anyone else is reacting to this video.
You don't see anyone looking particularly upset, but most aren't paying attention to their phones so much as the drugs.
"Jeez, kid, be cahful," T.J. says to Lia. He seems genuinely concerned that the girl might OD.
It takes a moment for Eva to take her drug-addled self and crush her arms around Lia's shoulders, staring past her for the time it takes for her to linger there with the blood dripping from her face. She's rather sober also, though from time to time people could likely catch her staring off into seemingly nothing. It's delayed when she unwinds herself, emptying out the rest of the baggie onto the table and producing an awful set up of thick lines. Apparently her approach to the morbid situation is the completely opposite of T.J..
Lia thinks; 'It's just some joke. He promised he'd be back later -- it's just some illusion.'
If fear was one of the emotions you were feeling, you don't feel it any longer, just the urge for more of the drug. If you have any experience with hallucinatory drugs, you might get a warning that this could be the beginning of a bad trip if you give in to the urge, though.
Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Careful.. This shit will have us taking you home in hearse.'
Less concerned sounding than T.J. is, Hector still manages to pluck his cigarette out from his mouth and offer a statement of support for the other men's suggestion. "Yeah, quit it before you're a stiff."
Jerome brushes a hand along his face and moves over to Lia and Eva's side of the table.
T.J. looks down at the table, then up at Eva. "You'll kill yahselves," he cautions. He nods to Jerome. "We don't need ya checkin' out, too."
Jerome looks over to T.J. and Hector. "You guys do what you came here for.. I'm going to sit with Lia and Eva for a few."
Hector feels oblivious to what they're upset about, somewhat unempathetic. T.J. nods at Jerome. He looks over to Hector. "Ya wanna give 'em some space?" he asks the other man. To Jerome, he says, "Look after 'em." T.J. leaves his place.
The hug Eva gives is met with the start of a sob -- but it dies out and Lia doesn't look like she's crying when the other woman draws away. "I'm fine," she relays numbly, "What's the worst that happens? I go to the hospital -- it's not the first time I've been to a hospital." For a girl who still hasn't handled her nose bleeding, who still looks like she just watched someone shoot her dog -- or, uh, her cousin -- she seems intent on staying and completing what she came for.
Jerome nods at T.J..
The drive for more of the drug might be overwhelmed with your current emotions, but it's still there, a thirst in the back of your mind. If fear is one of the things you should experience with this news, the odd thing is: you could help numb the pain, or it could cause you a bad trip. You aren't sure which.
Jerome looks over at Eva and Lia. "I don't even feel like pretending ta be ah hardass anymore.."
Hector bobs his head along with T.J. as he scoots out from the booth. "Yeah. I was thinking about seeing to something anyways, if you wanna come along," he says before plopping what's left of his smoke back inbetween his lips. Jerome says, to the women, 'My number is seven-seven-nine four-two-three-six if you need me.'
"We've done this much before," The hushed words from Eva are hard to pick out if they're legit or not, irritated ticks of her blue-green eyes singling out Lia and then she's binding her arms around the teenager once more, actually legitimately holding her this time; attempting to cradle her beautiful head against Eva's shoulder. "... I got you, dame. You uh... remember when that chick was sobbing in the bathroom? And her friend picked her up again? Yeah. That's... that's what I'm gonna do for you. But um... I'm here. All that aside, doll. I love you. I really do. I don't want you all fucked up either. You just... whatever the fuck you need to do."
Eva feels like you're lying, since they split a bag last time. Eva feels that driving need; but Lia really is her best dame aside from Brooke.
T.J. says (to Hector), in a working-class Bostonian accent, 'Let's do it. '
T.J. gets a white iPhone from his slate gray sport coat pocket.
"This isn't some boyfriend breaking up with me, Eva, he shot--" Lia begins, her voice picking up in pitch before dying out in her throat. She still doesn't look upset, she doesn't even really sound upset, pressing her face against her friend's shoulder a moment before drawing away. "Maybe we should go home," she suggests half-heartedly, though she's already cutting another line, despite all warnings from other people. Lia answers her phone.
Lia says, in a sedate and girlish American voice, (phone) 'Who are you and what the fuck do you want.' Lia continues with her drug setting-up while on the phone. Lia says, in a sedate and girlish American voice, (phone) 'Yeah. I fucking noticed. Thanks for telling me the obvious.'
T.J. draws away from the booth, walking backwards and still looking at Lia with a frown on his face. He ends up standing next to Hector.
"I know..." Eva mumbles, hoarsely; but she quiets down once Lia gets the phone, keeping one arm slouched around the woman. When the teenager cuts into some more, Eva chews on her lip as she looks at those already separated lines; hesitating. Lia feels briefly bad, just briefly, about hanging up on Fenneke. But it's not for long.
Lia shoves her phone back into her clutch and quickly inhales the line she set up, shoulders hunching briefly. "I... I want to go home," she admits to Eva, once she's finished, "I want to go home and be alone or something, or... Break something..."
Glancing back towards T.J., Hector removes the stub of his cigarette again as he leans in to say something to him personally.
Jerome says (to Lia), in a deep southern monotone, 'You guys taking the limo back.. Or want me to give you a ride?'
Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'I know I can't come make sure you're alright, or help you figure shit out.. But I worry.'
Jerome runs a hand through his hair in annoyance and ends up with a ruffled mess that doesn't look bad on him in the slightest, but that's clearly not what he's after.
You feel an immediate rush numbing the pain further, and more alert. The lights spinning vaguely now at the edge of eyesight, and while you are oddly devoid of fear, your mind is racing. You feel the same connection with others as before, but it's a feeling you might lose yourself in if you don't get out of here now.
Hector whispers to T.J., ' .... .... .... .... we're .... .... .... .... on .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... bartender .... .... .... .... like, .... we're to .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... ....'
Lia thinks; 'Liar. Crowe doesn't give a damn.'
"Yeah... sorry..." Eva snags the bag of glitter then from the table once Lia makes her admission, saring over those lines across it anyways. She swallows hard, looking over towards Jerome and then -back- towards those lines. "... Yeah... we'll take the limo-- back." And then she's wetting her lips, fingering the cut straw in her hand-- gripping it hard, twisting it even.
"Do your... Stuff," Lia mumbles to Eva quietly, head turning just a brief fraction of space to glance over her shoulder at something not there. "Do it and we'll... I just... I need to get out of here..."
T.J. nods at whatever Hector said. "Yeah, think that's what we outta do," he mutters to the man.
Jerome nods at Eva. "You guys want me to come with or fuck off?" he asks after another long moment of silence.
Hector straightens up again and plants the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Voice still somewhat low, he asks T.J., "Alright, so you wanna do most of the talking or should I?"
After Lia's words, that final little nudge over, Eva does a magic trick on another line; the glittery powder disappearing up her nose. "Fuck off," she murmurs towards Jerome honestly. "Sorry. But probably fuck off. You're a nice cat, Jerome. You seem like it. But I don't... even know that I can help the Kitten now. I just... gotta go with her, cuz she's my bestie."
"I can do that." Jerome replies quietly. "You girls take care." he reaches over to give Lia's shoulder a squeeze before doing the same to Eva. "Sure one of you has my number if you need me." then he's up and heading off with Hector and T.J.
"I'm thinkin' he should do the talkin'," T.J. says, ticking his head at Jerome. "Looks the paht more than we do, an' we can just pass fuh muscle or part of his crew."
T.J. says (to Jerome), in a working-class Bostonian accent, 'Whaddaya say?'
Lia wipes her nose against the back of her wrist, leaving more blood smeared against her skin. She waits until Eva's glitter is off the table before nudging her toward the edge of the bench, her head tilting to look at something else nonexistent over her shoulder, "Sorry, Eva -- really am, tonight was supposed to be good..."
Eva gets a white, stickerless cell phone from a pocket. Eva types a message out on their phone. Eva types a message out on their phone.
Jerome soon has a straight face again and adjusts his tie. "Yeah. Fill me in while we walk." he tells the men.
Jerome removes a gold band and slips it into his blue sports coat pocket.
Hector starts heading towards the bar, but T.J. words cause him to stop and turn back around. "Wha? Yeah, sure. I mean like, he's with us? Or we're with him or whatever?"
Eva only did one more line; she didn't go through the whole bag before she slips out uncomfortably behind Lia and her bloodsmeared self. She attempts to bind her arm around the back of the teenager, mumbling, "... Don't worry about it. Dae's already calling, dollface."
"We're with him," T.J. says. "Think that's more believable. He's got the right look for a buyah."
"Yeah. Fennekale called... To see if I'm okay, I just want to go home," Lia admits, telling Eva to, "Grab your glitter. You can, uh... Do the rest on the way home..."
That high seems within your reach with just another line more; the lights are spinning and dancing around you. You feel yourself opening up to something more, a strange sight starting to crawl directly into your line of vision. Though you are oddly devoid of fear, you feel a strange throbbing, and visions of open, raw nerves play at the edge of sight, pulsing with each throb you feel. They seem to be connecting people together, including you and Lia. Despite the throbbing, as you start to pull Lia up, you feel steady on your feet. Jerome also gave Eva his glitter before he left. So she's up a bag. (Subtly)Hector Tosses a quick look around to see if anyone appears to be listening before leaning in to explain the plan again to Jerome Lia answers her phone.
Lia says, in a sedate and girlish American voice, (phone) '...yeah?'
Lia says, in a sedate and girlish American voice, (phone) 'I'm coming home, Lord almighty... Me and Eva just have to get back to Satan's limo and stuff...'
Hector whispers to Jerome, 'so .... .... .... .... figure .... .... .... get .... glitter .... .... .... right? .... i .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... by .... .... .... wanna .... .... .... .... .... or .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... .... plan."' Eva sends a look back towards the glitter on the table, shaking her head out. She does still likely have that glitter bag from Jerome stashed somewhere. "Nah. Sometimes I like it when I sober up too. And all the hate talk... made it... I dunno. Numb. Maybe that was the drugs." Her eyes close in that moment, swaying a little bit as the effect seems to kick in; but she doesn't look like she's going to fall over anytime soon. Her gait is slightly off, eyes staring off towards things that perhaps the others can't see, a morbid smile crawling across her lips. "... Yeah. Whatever you want, Dame. I'll be good. I think."
Eva feels like it wasn't what she wanted, what she needed, but it was good enough. Something about watching someone get shot in the head to the point where they explode into ash makes the whole situation with boys pretty stupid.
Lia says, in a sedate and girlish American voice, (phone) 'I figured. You guys don't have to lie about it -- I know Crowe doesn't give a damn. I'll be back in Haven in, like... However long it takes Mister Harwood's driver to get there. I don't know anything about Seth. I don't want to answer questions. I just... I'll be at the mansion... Bye.' Lia slips a pale, pastel-purple tablet into a pocket.
"You can have mine too," Lia promises, stuffing her bag of glitter into Eva's bra sort of affectionate-like. Sort of. She seems off, even if she's not really showing it.
Hector thinks; 'He's here to bag the guy? Looked like he was here to score a hit.'
Hector feels a bit suspicious.
Jerome nods at Hector, "So, what I had planned on doing before it turned to shit." he offers a touch dryly before fixing his tie and heading over towards the bar to where 'Tuna' is. He flashes a bright smile at the man/woman/person. "Figure it's about break time, yeah?" he drawls out warmly. "Figure you're the person I need to have a chat with."
(Subtly)T.J. snowball has Ozy's number if you want another PC, or I can get him online for the next one
Jerome notes you need to private lingering
Lia and Eva stumble out of the bar, bags clutched and disappearing from sight. Meanwhile, the bartender, a male in his mid twenties who seems to be checking the males, particularly Jerome, out as they approach, flashes them a smile. "Oh, I don't get off until three. Last call's at two. My time is valuable, you know."
T.J. carries himself like your typical douchebag posse member, like he follows Jerome around in clubs mean muggin'
Jerome flashes the male a warm smile and reaches up to straighten his hair. "Don't be like that." he drawls out warmly. "I assure you my time is just as valuable, and you're the man I need to speak with."
Hector rakes his lower teeth against his upper lip as he follows Jerome along. After finishing off his cigarette he shifts his briefcase into his opposite hand and slips his other hand into a pocket.
Hector feels some irritation at his response.
"Well, why don't you be more specific?" asks the bartender, wiping off some glasses behind the bar. "It might be I can help you out. And maybe not. What are you looking to score?"
Jerome lowers his voice a bit, "What I picked up earlier. Only a much larger scale." he offers vaguely, flicking a bit of the glittery drug off his finger. Hector takes his a filtered cigarette.
The bartender narrows his eyes and says to Jerome, "Who're you with? If they wanted you to have it they would've come to you."
T.J. wipes his glitter covered thumb across his nose, sniffing and lingering over Jerome's shoulder.
(to Hector) (Privately)T.J. didn't ever actually do a line, that you remember. He had a line in front of him, then there was the commotion with the video, and then the line was gone.
Jerome rolls his shoulder with an easy shrug at the bartender, "I'm not with any of the big players." he admits with a winning smile, "Fleshing out ah name in the small town scene.. But they don't have anything like this out there." Hector rolls the butt of his cigarette in between his fingers, gaze drifting from Jerome and the bartender to those in the crowd as if he's watching over the suited man. The bartender's response causes his brow to bunch up and his eyes to harden a little.
Hector feels more irritated at the bartender than the slender guy's response. "I hear this is where it's at." Jerome offers simply, waving a hand at Hector and T.J., "And I couldn't send these bumblefucks to do it.. Look at them!" he keeps his voice low and pleasant, like any good Face. T.J. leans against the bar, idly cracking his neck while Jerome talks to the guy.
Hector thinks; 'Bumblefuck? I don't look like a bumblefuck. This suit might be a little messed up, but shit. I look nice.'
"I hear this is where it's at." Jerome offers simply, waving a hand at
Hector and T.J., "And I couldn't send these bumblefucks to do it.. Look at them!" he keeps his voice low and pleasant, like any good Face.
Hector rolls the butt of his cigarette in between his fingers, gaze drifting from Jerome and the bartender to those in the crowd as if he's watching over the suited man. The bartender's response causes his brow to bunch up and his eyes to harden a little.
"Well, it is here. It's elsewhere, too," the bartender says in reply, casting a glance at the other bartenders working various spots behind the bar. One of them seems to be casting glances in the bartender's direction. "Listen, I just do a little of this on the side. What you're asking for, even if I wanted to I couldn't help you out. Maybe if you've got a card or something I can get it to the right place?" As he's talking, all of your ears are just sharp enough to catch a little bit of a scuffle at the entrance to the VIP lounge under the thrum of the music. The doors are closed, though, so you don't see anything.
T.J. glances casually toward the door.
Jerome whistles at the men behind him, "Go check on that." he keeps his tone casual before looking back at the bartender, "Now, I've been in the buying and trading business to know that you don't hand out cards unless you're on the very upper tier."
Jerome says, to the bartender, 'Now, are you telling me there's nothing you could hep me with now? No names, places, or prices?' T.J. ticks his head at Hector and starts shuffling toward the door, all posse like.
Hector briefly glances towards the door, but with Jerome's orders he rolls his shoulders and begins to make his way over there. He taps his briefcase against the side of his leg as he shuffles along with T.J. once or twice. Hector feels a wave of excitement at the prospect of there being violence.
Jerome just noticed there were places here. Hector didn't notice until it was pointed out. Hopefully he was at one.
"Game you're in isn't the game we're in, then, if you don't have a club," the bartender says, already shaking his head. "This isn't for the street. It's not upper tier, man." Though if Jerome knows his business, he might catch onto the fact that the bartender is probably waiting for something to make it worth his while to talk. Meanwhile, Hector and T.J. make their way across the room to the set of double doors separating this place from the main club. It seems oddly quiet out there.
Jerome shakes his head and tugs out something from coat, it's a few bills wadded up. "Not the street, but not a club either. My friends here should be able to explain more." Hector gives T.J. a look and motions for the man to get clear of the door with a nod of his head before taking a spot beside the door frame.
T.J. nods back and takes up his position. His hand slips out of his pocket and creeps slightly into his jacket.
Hector tries to push the door open enough to look out into the weirdly quiet room without exposing much more than the limb used to open it.
Hector thinks; 'What's going on out there? They vacate the place?'
The bartender looks at the cash in Jerome's hand, tonguing his cheek thoughtfully before nodding toward him. "All right, I can help you out with a place. There's a bar in South Boston. Publican's. Ask for Jimmy." Hector pulls the door open without too much trouble, cracking it, but there isn't much for making is stealthy. He's the only one who can get a view out the door for the moment, though both he and T.J. can tell the music is still on outside.
What you see is a group of four, three guys, one woman, dressed in jeans, boots and leather jackets despite the warm weather. All four of the jackets have fur trim. One of the guys, a shorter white guy with reddish brown hair and heavy stubble currently has one of the bouncers by his collar. This is probably what has made the club go quiet. You have a split second to react. T.J. waits for Hector to give him some kind of signal. Jerome flashes the bartender a pleasant smile and turns to head out, though he pauses and looks over his shoulder, "We'll check this out. We'll head back to have a talk if this doesn't pan out." soon enough he's heading back to the men he sent to the door.
Hector mouths the word 'Keepers' over towards T.J. from his spot by the door. He tries to let the door shut without causing too much of a notice about it. If it gets shut, he repeats his warning a bit more audibly. "Keepers are hassling the bouncers, guys."
T.J. nods. "You guys prob'ly gotta worry about that more than me," he says. "We need ta leave out the back? I'm not the kinda guy they go aftah, if you know what I mean."
T.J. looks over his companions, though, and notices that they aren't wearing any faction symbols, plus Shroud devices wouldn't work in Boston anyway. Jerome nods at Hector, "Not something I have to worry about." sure enough he's not wearing his faction symbol, and wouldn't show up as a super to anybody.
"There's like four of them," Hector adds as he digs a tooth necklace back out from his jacket. Setting his brief case down for a second, he loops the thing over his head.
Jerome adjusts something in his jacket before nodding at the men. "We'll walk out like nothing happened. If they give us trouble, they'll find out real quick that I know my way around a pistol."
(to Snowman) (Privately)Jerome was adjusting a kimber warrior with an attached silencer.
The woman, a stringy, lean woman in her late twenties, jams her foot in the door as she sees it's been cracked. "Hello, there, dearie," she says, listening to them go on. "Are you sure you aren't my type? I like a man who looks like you." Behind her, you can hear someone growling, "Where is it? Where is she? We know it's been coming out of here," and another someone going, "I wouldn't try his patience. We men get a little titchy when it comes to family, hmm? Just tell us what we want to know and we'll be on our way."
OOC: Just a little reminder, you guys are in a public club. There isn't anything that will get the cops here faster than gunfire.
Jerome flashes a pleasant smile at the woman, "Now that depends entirely on what 'it' is." he nods over at the booth. "I suggest we take whatever issue we have there. Last thing we need are cops showing up and ruining all the fun."
T.J. flashes his badge to the woman. "I'm pahsivitve I'm not the type ya gun for," he says with certainty.
T.J. shows you a badge. a Rockfield Bounties badge Cost: 12.00 A badge identifying the wearer as an employee of Rockfield Bounties. This badge is for Terrance James Grant. It bears a photo along with his vitals. He has short, messy dishwater hair and mottled green eyes.
Jerome looks over at T.J., "Put that away." he hisses slightly. "That's the last thing we need here is people knowing I brought a bounty hunter." he keeps his voice low so it stays in his little group (and the keepers)
"Yeah uh, don't got a clue what you're talking about, lady," Hector states, shifting his arm back from the door as his grip on his briefcase's handle tightens.
T.J. flashed the badge, he didn't bust it out and wave it around.
The woman gives Jerome a bored look through the crack in the door. "You're pretty, love, but my ma always told me not to trust a pretty man. Anyway, we aren't looking for you, are we?" The hint of Irish South Boston is in her words as she speaks. She gives the door a shove to open it completely, so you get a look at what is going on behind her. It looks like one bouncer is being pinned against the wall by a shorter white guy in his early thirties with reddish brown hair and heavy stubble. The other bouncer is slumped against the wall, passed out-- probably shouldn't have been doing drugs that slowed him down-- and there are two other men standing in the path between the VIP lounge and the main club. One of those is a gruff, grizzled man in his mid forties, with a salt and pepper buzz cut and an eye patch. The other looks young, maybe early twenties, with white blond hair and a baby face.
All four of them, including the girl, are wearing leather jackets with fur trim regardless of the warm weather. "We're looking for whoever's got the shit. The sparkly shit," growls the auburn-haired man. "Spit it out."
Jerome nods over his shoulder, "Mid-twenties bartender." he offers casually. "Play nice with him."
Jerome nodded towards 'tuna'.
If any of you should look behind you, you might notice the bartender has melted away.
Hector gestures towards the bartender with his briefcase, giving up the man easily. "Oh yeah, that fella was spitting it out." When he glances over to look towards where the man was, his face contorts into a scowl. "Fuck, where'd he go?"
Hector feels angry the man you were throwing to the wolves isn't there to be throw to the wolves.
Jerome stops when he looks that way, "Looks like he's gone." he offers the keepers, looking back there way, "It's why you have to be quiet."
Hector thinks; 'That little coward! When I catch him again I swear to God...' "Crap," T.J. growls. "Bahstad musta snuck out the back!"
"Yeah? And how do you know?" the woman asks, narrowing her eyes at the group. "You bought from him? You lot don't look the type. 'Specially you," she says to T.J.. "What's a badge doing out here with this shit?" Seems like she's already got some idea. The auburn-haired man behind her gives a frustrated grunt and knocks the bouncer he has pinned against the wall, dropping him. The clubbers behind them are either staring in a semi-drugged out daze or have sensibly left the club. What few staff there is left stares but seem unwilling to get involved. "You two with him?" the woman goes onto ask. The other two men seem content to level cold gazes in your directions.
"Bought, but didn't sample. Gave it to a few friends that were here and left, one of Coretech's associates Dominic Inigo was executed recently, and that was her cousin. So I gave it up." Jerome offers truthfully. "Now, is there anything I can assist you all with?"
"I'm not a cop," T.J. says in a quiet hush. "But Rockfield wants this shit off the streets, especially if it isn't nohmal."
Hector's eyes flick across the Keepers he can see before settling on the one doing the talking again. "Yeah, I'm here uh... along him," he says, tilting his head towards T.J..
The woman gives all three of them a baleful look, then an equally baleful glance behind her. "Dumbass," she says to the auburn-haired man. "Scared off the lead." She casts a glance at the grizzled man, who gives a tiny almost imperceptible nod at her, and at the nod, she turns back to the group, saying, "Yeah. I wanna know what you know. You're lookin' for the supplier, right?" But she almost does a double take at Jerome's words. "Coretech was here, too?"
As the only member with law enforcement experience here, you privately guess to yourself that although two bouncers are down, no one is going to be calling the cops unless it gets bad-- gunfire bad-- given the number of drugs pumping through the place.
"No, just a prominent Haven family member." Jerome assures the woman. "Her cousin was Coretech, and he's the one that died." he explains. "All I know is that he was selling it out the back for ninety dollars a go."
"You're sellin' me shit," the lean woman growls, taking a step forward to block the doors. She doesn't take up a lot of space on her own, but she looks like she can handle herself in a fight. "You all are here for the same reason we are. We want the supplier, too. You found something out. We wanna know what."
Hector feels angry that she's angry.
T.J. thinks; 'Why don't we tell 'em? They'll probably do a better job of knocking the place over, and we don't have to worry about the heat.' T.J. thinks; 'But they're also a bunch of friggin' psychopaths....' T.J. thinks; 'But at least they don't kill normals...'
"Didn't find much out except it's easier getting oral from a nun than finding out who his supplier was." Jerome offers with a frustrated noise. "He was scared of something.. And now I know what it was."
T.J. thinks; 'Yeah, but not all the people in that bar are involved, and these pricks will probably just burn the whole place down. ' "Yeah, and we were probably gunna find something right up until you all rolled in," Hector adds, grumbling. Getting a bit more on edge, the man's grip tightens and relaxes around his suitcase's handle.
Jerome looks over at Hector. "Doubt it." he offers with a shrug, "Was going to wait for him out back.. Now he's already gone."
Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'Only thing I got out of him was that it's a club drug, and he referred to the provider as 'they'. If we couldn't get anything out of him, we were going to hit up the bigger clubs in mid and north Boston.'
"Tuna. I could call my buddy at the depahtment an' see if they got a sheet on a guy with that alias," T.J. suggests quietly.
Jerome says (to T.J.), in a deep southern monotone, 'Did they really call him that?'
Jerome wrinkles his nose a bit before looking back at the keepers.
T.J. winces and nods to Jerome. "Yeah. They did." T.J. offers, "They got a rap sheet on the guy, could maybe get an address, what kinda cah he drives, somethin' like that."
The woman's fingers twitch. Behind her, the grizzled man says, "Cool it," lowly to her. The woman shifts her weight, not quite moving out of the way, and replies, "They know something, I can smell it." Meanwhile, the auburn-haired man seems just as twitchy. You can hear him muttering, "I don't care, all I know is they've got Karen," though the words aren't meant to be pitched for your ears. The name seems to calm the woman down somewhat. "Tuna, you said? Fine. Gimme your phone."
(to Snowman) (Privately)T.J. explicitly stated earlier that he deleted all texts sent to Reggie or received from him as soon as sending/receiving them, so it doesn't look like TJ has used his phone all night.
Jerome shifts a bit and looks at the keepers, "If they have somebody of yours? We'll give you any information we can." he offers honestly. "We'll get you set up so you can head out after this guy, and we'll dig around for more leads. If we find it, we'll give give you a call. We get this shit off the street, you get your person back."
T.J. handed his phone over to the lady.
The woman scrolls through the phone, finding nothing of interest other than the number and puts her own in it. She doesn't save it under a name; instead, she puts a little hourglass symbol in the name field. "Call me," she says, her visage smoothing over. "Fine, whatever," she says toward Jerome. There's a little glint in her eye as she says, "Gonna hold you to it. Don't much like a man who doesn't keep his word, hmm?"
Jerome nods at the woman, "All I got in this world is my word and my balls." he offers with a shrug. "If I don't have that I'd be a cockaroach. This guy doesn't stand out much, so Tee-Jay here will have to give you what info he can."
"Well, at least I got one numbah at the club," T.J. says dryly. He tucks his phone away and nods to her. "Hey, we want this shit off the streets. Who knows what they put in it, you know? Seems like it's worse than Vee...and I'm sure you know what that is."
"If that's all we can help you with.. We have a few other leads to check out. Probably dead ends like the last five." Jerome seems genuinely annoyed. "If we spot anything, tee-jay will give you a call."
T.J. fires a blank text to the hourglass phone number so that the woman can contact him as well.
Rather unlike his seemingly calm companions, Hector still probably looks kinda tense. Breathing heavily through his nose, he simply flutters his attention between those talking and the keepers.
Jerome looks over at Hector. "It's like you've never talked to an hourglass before."
"Yeah," the woman mutters, moving out of the way. Behind her, the clubbers seem to snap out of it, seeing that nothing else of interest is likely to happen. "Fine. I'll be expecting a call." She grabs the auburn-haired man by the arm and starts dragging him off. Though she has her back to the group, it doesn't seem like she has walking off without a care; she occasionally shoots a glaring glance over her shoulder. The grizzled man has already made his way ahead of them.
Hector feels angry still, even if it's somewhat irrational at this point.
Jerome nods at T.J., "Alright, we have a club to go to." then he looks over at Hector, "You're not good under pressure." he drawls out the obvious. "I bet he's great when the shit hits, though," T.J. says back.
T.J. pops his neck idly. "We gonna hit it tanight?" He says. "Or do ya think we need more backup?"
The Keeper group soon disappears through the front door, murmurs following them out. None of the clubbers seem willing to approach, which is probably wise. There are two passed out bouncers near your feet; one of the staff, a girl in her early twenties, seems to be hovering just out of earshot, waiting for you to clear off before checking on them.
"Sure I have," Hector mutters with a huff. "Just ready to like, gouge out eyes or throw it down." Shaking it off, he then takes a couple breaths and adds with a slightly more even tone, "Jesus, they just took that?"
"We don't need backup to scope a place out.. And you have those keeper's numbers." Jerome offers in reply before waving the woman over with a smile. "They took what we set out because we didn't look like we were about to shit our pants.. And we didn't lie." To T.J. he offers a grin, "I'm good when the shit hits too. Most the time."
It seems so. Though perhaps someone should check the phone out.
Stat Report:Jerome he is fairly skilled with pistols.
Jerome removes a kimber warrior and slips it into his blue sports coat pocket. T.J. grins. "I think we did pretty good. An' yah, we can call 'em, but those guys are loose cahnans. I dunno if I want them backin' me up if we can avoid it."
It does seem like the Keepers weren't looking for a fight. It could have been a number of things, but probably the most important thing was that they didn't think you three had who, or what, they were looking for.
T.J. says, in a working-class Bostonian accent, 'They striek me as the kill 'em all an' let Gawd sort 'em out kinda guys. '
Searching his jacket for something with his free hand, Hector asks somewhat distractedly, "So what, we're just rolling to some other club? We know anyplace else that's even got it?" Evidently not finding what he wanted, he mutters some and withdraws a tinfoil package of pills from his slacks pocket. He places the package over his mouth and pops whatever was in it into his mouth with one hand.
Hector takes his two-pack of Advil liqui-gels.
T.J. ponders for a moment.
Hector feels an irritation headache coming on.
"Then again, if they got a hostage," T.J. says, "They might be a little more cahful than they usually are."
Jerome nods at T.J.. Jerome nods at Hector.
Jerome says (to T.J.), in a deep southern monotone, 'Forgot the name of the place, but I have the name of the guy down. We'll sort out the where up top.'
T.J. says, in a working-class Bostonian accent, 'Publican's. ' T.J. says (to Jerome), in a working-class Bostonian accent, 'I'm from Reveah. I think I've been there before, maybe it was called anotha name then. '
Jerome unbuttons his shirt for a moment to show the pair something. "Think we have this under control." Jerome adjusts his clothes.
You might have been there, but you might more know it as a spot an Irish crime family tends to nest. Jerome adjusts his clothes.
Hector feels clueless about what that's supposed to mean. T.J. frowns.
Hector looks over Jerome's tattoo, but no real look of recollection crosses his face. He plants a hand against his forehead and does a brief sweep of the room with his eyes. "So where'd the bartender get off to?"
Jerome says (to Hector), explaining, ' It's latin. I came, I saw, I conquered.'
Jerome shrugs a bit, "Bartender here is old noise. We have a Jimmy to speak to."
T.J. says, in a working-class Bostonian accent, 'Shit, if Publican is still.... '
Hector says (to Jerome), in a guttural American baritone, 'Yeah, I know. But I mean like, where'd he get off to without us seeing? We were right by the door and you were like, right next to him.'
T.J. says, in a working-class Bostonian accent, 'That place isn't a joke. That's a hat spaht for orgahnized crime. Irish mafia. '
T.J. says, in a working-class Bostonian accent, 'We need backup, or we need to bring our Ay game... an' hope that bahtendah isn't there already. '
"I don't got like, my good gun seeing as it'd probably get picked up at the door, but uh... I got... uh..." Hector begins to say before trailing off. Blinking, he then looks up to T.J. and says, "Nevermind. You mean like smoothness A-game, not like violence A-game, huh?"
Jerome nods at T.J., "Then we play it cool. I have no intention of causing trouble.. And if we get in trouble the keepers would be on that place in no time."
The cop in you really thinks you ought to have some sort of cover story hashed out before you go in.
From the tone, it looks like it could be either, but much more dangerous if it's violence oriented.
Hector grinds his boot's heel against the ground for a moment as his gaze goes wandering around the VIP room again. Settling back on T.J. and Jerome he soon says, "They gunna like, do a proper check on the way in you think?"
"We need a covah story before we go in there," T.J. says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe about the Ruby ounge lookin' to buy or become a distributah in Haven or somethin'. We need an aihtight covah story, or there's gonna be a problem."
(to Snowman) (Privately)T.J. wonders if he knows the answer to Hector's question.
It's still a business, so probably not, but they definitely will if you try to come in as a buyer.
Jerome looks over at T.J., "This isn't my first rodeo. I've been bullshitting people for years." he drawls out before explaining, "Was a stockbroker." with a grin. "Now, we can flesh out the rest of the details on the way there. Can wrap this up before two."
"Meet you guys there?" T.J. asks. "I gotta run the sample to one of my guys. We're gonna find out what's in this shit."
Jerome nods at T.J..
"Was gunna hand mine over to like, somebody back at the barracks too," Hector admits idly. "But uh... whatever, yeah, I guess. Catch you there."
Jerome says, in a deep southern monotone, 'I'll run and pick some people up then.. Get my suit checked out.'
"Or fuck, maybe we oughta regroup and stuff," Hector blurts out after a moments though. Scratching at his side with his free hand he then goes on to say, "Grabbing some extra gear, like smoke bombs and tear gas and stuff, would probably be real useful if it gets all hairy."
Jerome tugs out something and cleans his face of whatever high quality foundation or concealer he was wearing. Jerome removes his makeup.
Jerome says (to Hector), in a deep southern monotone, 'Not the time or place to discuss it.. We'll figure it out back in Haven.'
"You gonna check on the Inigo girl?" T.J. asks. Jerome nods at T.J..