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It's late afternoon in the city that never sleeps. Already the bars and pubs of Hell's Kitchen, an area which has become even more dangerous lately, are starting to fill up. Trish has been debating all day whether or not she should make her way down to the Kitchen and find Jessica. She figures it's better to check on her sister than not, however, no matter how drunk or irate said sister might be.
Knowing some of Jessica's favourite haunts, the first place she checks is a no go. However, her second stop is Farrell's bar. Wearing a floral dress and heeled shoes, she walks in and scans the room and its patrons. When her eyes lock in on Jessica, she starts to make a b-line for the woman.
*
Late afternoon is pre-partying time. And Roberto's out seeing the town, with the uninhibited charm of the noveau riche combined with being a swarthy Latino in a portion of the town populated largely by ethnic minorities.
He breezes into the pub and heads straight for the bar, drumming his fingers twice on the lacquered wood. "Ola hermano, una cerveza— a beer, please," he requests, putting a $10 on the countertop.
*
Sitting at the bar with a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of her, Jessica Jones has been here for some time — likely because she ran out of liquor at home. The black leather jacket she wears — clearly men's fashion — blue jeans, and black boots all reflect her increasingly no-care attitude as her fingers curl around the half-full glass in front of her.
The bartender glances towards Jessica and slowly tugs the bottle from her to replace it on the shelf, causing the dark haired woman to straighten. "And that, that is how I know you are a dumb ass," she states matter-of-factly to the bartender," Jessica states towards him. "We've been doing this song and dance all week, Fred Astaire." Her eyes half-lid, "Leave the bottle." Her smile turns feline.
People entering the bar have her perking somewhat, especially as a very familiar face enters her periphery. She rises from her stool and slaps the counter, "I'm gonna need another of these."
"
*
Already present and seated by herself at a table in the back is Liv, her cheek propped up on a fist while she writes in a notebook with her other hand. She seems quite intent on whatever it is she's working on, though it doesn't stop her from occasionally dropping her pen in favor of taking a long draw from a rapidly-emptying glass of beer that is sitting within easy reach.
When the door opens to admit new customers, she glances up, giving Trish and Roberto both a quick looking-over in turn. But then Liv's looking to her work again with a small, faintly lopsided smirk on her face. She's not eavesdropping on Jessica. Honest.
*
"We're gonna need two full bottles of what she's drinking." Trish tells the bartender as she approaches Jessica and the bar, digging into her purse and bringing out a fifty, which she slaps on the bar. She glances toward Roberto for a moment. He'll probably get his beer first. That's okay. He did order before her. Her gaze shifts back to Jessica for the moment. "Can we talk? I did just buy two bottles."
*
Roberto whistles, eyeing Trish and Jess as the woman buys what even for Roberto is a party-sized amount of booze. "Ayiyi, is there a fiesta happenin' and I missed the memo?" Roberto says, turning that charming Latino grin on Trisha. He tries to aim it at Jessica too, but— well. There are cold fish and then there are piranhas, and the flat stare in her eyes quickly stifles his attempt to be flirtatious with her.
"Issa lotta liquor for just two ladies— not even sure I can drink all that," he quips at Trish, grinning lopsidedly and leaning his elbow on the bar.
*
At both Trish's appearance AND her ordered whiskey, Jessica's eyes turn to slits, her jaw tightens, and her head tilts to the side. Her lips purse and she ponders the question. For the liquor she should be a little complicit. Even a bit. "You talk. I'll drink," her lips curve slightly. And then Roberto interjects, and her lips edge further.
She hums quietly as she stares at the bottle. "That's because you're not trying hard enough," she states towards him. "I'm sure you could if you really really put in the effort." Smiiiiile.
*
An empty glass? Ugh. This will not do. With a sigh, Liv moves to slide out of her booth and rise to her feet.
If she didn't stand out before, she might now. With her glass in hand, all six feet of the blonde make for a free spot at the counter, waiting patiently for the bartender to have a moment. Liv flashes him a smile and simply raises her glass, then settles in to wait.
*
Turning to face Roberto, Trish raises an eyebrow. "I don't know about a fiesta…but you haven't seen us when we begin to drink. It's rather a sight to behold." That being said, Trish is usually the one attempting to keep up with Jessica. She doesn't have quite the tolerance that the other woman has, but she does know how to get her attention.
"I just haven't seen you since…that day." Trish says, turning back to Jessica. "I wanted to check in. See how you were. I know you're this strong, independant woman who doesn't need anyone, but hey, I care about you. I can't just not check in!" It's then that Liv catches her attention by standing up and walking to the bar.
"Woah…" She whispers, looking at the taller woman. She clears her throat and shakes her head. Staring's rude. No more staring. She offers the woman a smile and a nod, focusing on Jessica again.
*
Roberto winks at Jessica. "Hey, I'll try anything once," he tells her. "Y'know, maybe it's just time I bumped my drinking to a more professional level."
He's about to speak when Liv stands up, heads and shoulders above everyone else in the bar— even the swarthy, impeccably dressed Brasilian. He whistles silently, brows bobbing, and makes no pretense about admiring her sashay across the pub.
He glances around to make so no other Valkyries or actresses are lurking in the corners, then leans against the bar and accepts his cold beer from the bartender. "Aye, gracias," he says, taking a big gulp of the yeasty brew.
*
ROLL: Jessica +rolls 1d2 for a result of: 2
*
The tumbler of whiskey is downed in one fluid motion that sees Jessica returning the glass to the counter in one heavy motion. She inhales a deep breath at the mention of the night and for a second, it almost looks like something is going to crack. Her chin quivers, but she bites back the emotion. "I'm fucking fantastic. Why wouldn't I be?" her tone edges on sardonic. "And I can add day drinking as one of my marketable skills." She winks. "So, all's well in the land of Jessica Jones."
As the tall blonde walks by and both Trish and Roberto react, she calls to the taller woman, "Hey, Amazon! My sister and her friend like your ass."
*
The good news is, although Liv does not miss Trish and Roberto's looks, she also doesn't seem particularly bothered. One supposes she must be used to it. She just offers them both a wry smile while she waits for the bartender to work through the slight backlog of drink deliveries.
And then her eyes slide to Jessica. After a brief pause, Liv just smiles at her, positively radiant. "Thanks. I work hard on it," she calls back.
*
"You'd have to be a professional drinker to keep up with some of the people here." Trish says as a side note to Roberto. Turning to Jessica, she sighs softly. Reaching out, she gently places a hand on her shoulder. "You realize who you're talking to, right? It's not like you're talking to Elvis Presley or Peggy Lee or…or…or Audrey Hepburn!"
Her mouth was about to open again to say something more when Jessica called out to Liv. Blushing a little, Trish rolls her eyes. "Jess! But, what should I expect? When I told you I wanted to go by 'Trish', you told me Trish sounded like tush and people would keep thinking of my tush whenever they called me Trish!" There's a glance to Liv as she says, "Not to say you're not very pretty I just…I…well, you know!" Now she's all flustered! Thanks, Jess!
*
"Oye, I wasn't checking out /her/ ass," Roberto protests, waving his hands. "I mean, I /was/, but I was more looking at your friend's here. It's the most famous one I think I've ever seen," the young man about town remarks. He flashes a florid wink at Trish— he's not going to blow her cover, but he's clearly pegged her as a celebrity. He must be a bit of a pop culture fan.
"Don't get me wrong, chica" he tells Liv, clapping softly. "Yours is muy bueno perfectamente, like perfect fruits," he says, his swarthy grin spreading wide.
*
"Shows. You jog, don't you? I hate jogging. Most pointless thing ever," Jessica calls over her shoulder. "That and talking. Ugh. Bullshit psychology." She straightens, and in doing so, turns back to face the counter, "Getting nowhere fast makes joggers look like asshole chumps."
But then Trish is putting a hand on her shoulder, prompting a very quick reaction wherein she shrugs it off. "Don't touch me," she warns. "I said you could talk, I didn't say you could touch me."
Roberto's interest in Trish, however, presents an all-too-convenient opportunity. "You should ask her to join you for a drink," she states towards Roberto. "Trish, like all women, apparently," her eyes roll, "likes being picked up in bars. It's the only reason to go to a bar. Obviously."
*
Jogging? "Nah. I fight," Liv calls back to Jessica, and for a moment, her smile is positively wolfish. But then the nice man is handing her a new pint of beer and she is momentarily distracted, taking a moment to pay before she accepts it. Only proper.
As Liv starts back towards her table, she offers Roberto a warmly-voiced "Obrigado, senhor," with an accent that sounds like she was born there. She keeps half an eye on the two women as she goes, though, expression softening as she slides back into her seat. Hm.
*
Giving Robert a look, as if to say, 'This is not the time', Trish rolls her eyes. Under normal circumstances, she probably would flirt with him. "Look, as much as I…appreciate that you appreciate my ass, this ass prefers its men to be just a titch more subtle." She smirks a little bit. Of course, in a bar like this, she's not wholly surprised.
Removing her hand from Jessica's shoulder, she makes a little tsking sound. "But that would just be rude of me, to have bought you those two bottles and leave you alone with them. Besides, I really do want to spend some time with you." The last part is said quietly, for Jessica's ears only.
"Fighting?" She perks up at the mention of fighting. "What kind of fighting?" It might seem weird to Jessica that Trish is so interested in fighting. Sure, she knows that Trish has taken the self-defence classes, but as far as most people know, that's as far as she's wanted to take it.
*
"Subtle is not for Brasilians," Roberto scoffs, not remotely deterred by the subtle rejection. "We are people who live between the ocean and the jungle. My ancestors sailed across the oceans to create a New World— the blood of the Incas and the Conquistadors flows in me, and they are not people for whom boldness is a word," he says. The speech sounds a bit flowery… except for the undeniable passion with which he delivers it.
"Subtlety, in my opinion, is reserved for the dance floor, when what goes unsaid is as important as what is mentioned," he grins. He watches Liv walk away— appreciatively. Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave?
*
Jessica smirks at Trish's remark towards Roberto, an expression that grows into a smile of appreciation towards Roberto. She observes, "Subtle gets no one laid. No. Say what you want and see if someone else wants it. We are all too old for these fucking games." She reaches for the bottle and her hands tremble as she refills her glass. "Flirting is a waste of air."
Her jaw tightens. "Trish, you need to lay off. Actually."
*
Definitely keeping an eye on them. Once she's back in her booth, Liv just scoops her pen back up to return to work, though she does give Trish a somewhat apologetic look first. "When you're free," she says lightly, glancing between her and Jessica.
*
"Yeah, well, I suppose most of this city decided against subtlety as well. New York, the city that says what it wants regardless of the consequences." Trish says to Roberto, a smirk crossing her face. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head in slight amusement.
"Jessica." She looks to her sister, crossing her arms. "You need to learn that I'm here to say. I sure as hell am not gonna go leaving you behind. If time's what you need, fine. But we're sisters, and last I checked, that meant something. Blood relation or no, we're sisters. And family sticks together."
Brightening up her expression, she looks over at Liv. "When I'm free? Hmm?"
*
There's flirting dangerously, and there's flirting with dangerous women— and Jessica's clearly ready to take someone's arm off. So Roberto winks at Trish and collects his beer, but holding his hands up in a surrender, backs a pace away and moves away from the converstion. "I'll just be, uh.. over there."
He moves to Liv's table and seats himself across from her, flashing a grin at the amazonian blonde. "So, like— what's your secret, huh? Running? Jogging? You work out at the gym a lot?" he inquires, slurping down some beer.
*
As the pair seem as alone as a pair can be in a public place, Jessica's eyes level on her sister. "Trish," the edge of warning in her tone is unmissable. "I'm toxic. Do you understand that? I will destroy you. Just like everything else I touch." She turns on the stool. "Look," she says blandly, "You matter to me. Enough that I need you away from — " her jaw tightens.
"He's in my head." Her eyes narrow, "He's dead and he's in my head. And I don't know what that means. I can't fucking silence his voice. You need to get away." Before Jessica adds to the body count. If Jessica is going to add to the body count.
She turns on the stool. "No booze is worth this," she announces. "Don't follow me." With that she reaches into her pocket, leaves a few bills on the bar, and walks out the bar.
*
Alas, Trish — now that she has company at her table, Liv is too distracted to explain. She doesn't complain when Roberto invites himself to sit with her, either, just grins at him and raises her eyebrows. "Decided to live to flirt another day, did we?" she asks in a playful, hushed voice.
She's not ignoring the question. Liv waves her hand, laughing. "No, no. Like I said. I fight. Which reminds me — be careful around Central Park," she tells him, her smile replaced by a much more serious twist of her lips. "It's not safe. There was some kind of a hydra the other day, and demonic hounds before that. So. You know." She waves vaguely, reaching for her beer. "At least travel in packs."
*
"Well then, maybe I need a little more toxicity in my life. Because I can't just turn my back on you!" Trish's voice is hushed, but there's certainly an urgency to it. "There's no way you could destroy me. Know how I know? I just have to think back to when we were younger. You know what I'm talking about. If there was good in you then, there's certainly that good in you now. You mean too much for me to just give up on that…to give up on you!" Sympathy washes over her face at the mention of him. "I only knew him for a few minutes and had him in my head, I can only imagine what you're going through. But let me help!"
But no. There's no helping her sister today, apparently. "Jessica, please." She sighs and closes her eyes. Fine. She'll have to do this the hard way. But that will take a little more liquid courage. Grabbing the rest of the bottles that remain, she takes them to the table where both Liv and Roberto sit. "Care for the company? I come with gifts!" She holds up the bottles.
*
"I am staying /the hell/ away from Central Park," Roberto says, clearly missing the irony of his words. "It's all kindsa crazy there and I want nothin' to do with it. Besides, more fun to hit the bars and see who else is sheltering from the loco— the crazy," he tells Liv, sipping more beer. "And take my life in my hands in other ways."
He glances up at Trish in surprise when she comes over, but a pleased expression crosses his face. "Si si, bueno, come sit," he says, scooting around the corner of the booth to give Trish his seat.
*
"Smart man," Liv says to Roberto, that lopsided grin coming right back to her face. "Still. Be careful in general. There was a monster on the roof next to my apartment the other day that I'm pretty sure is connected to whatever that nonsense is, and I live out in the Village. So it's…" She waggles the fingers of one hand, nose wrinkling in distaste. "…percolating."
She looks up when Trish returns, blinking once and casting a quick look around. "Where did… is your friend alright?" Liv asks, frowning in concern even as she gestures invitingly towards the booth. No issue taken with Roberto inviting her to sit.
*
"My friend?" Trish glances at Liv, flashing an award winning smile. "My friend will be fine. She just gets ruffled under the feathers sometimes. I'll see her later. We'll hug it out." She motions for the bartender to bring some clean glasses to them.
"So, I don't believe any of us got proper introductions, hmm?" Trish glances between the other two. After a moment, she says, "I'm Trish. Trish Walker."
*
"Roberto de Costa, encantado," Roberto says, offering Trish a soft-fingered handshake. He's pretty well built, but obviously a wealthy young man with a running habit over someone who habitually works out regularly. Which smacks of his wealth inasmuch as his $300 shoes.
"Sorry your sister's in a foul mood," he tells Trish, looking sincere. "Didn't mean to make it worse— really. Didn't realize she was here doing some serious drinking."
*
Neither name sparks any kind of recognition in the taller of the two blondes. She just smiles wryly and waits her turn before offering a hand across the table. "Liv. Nice to meet you both. And," she adds, flashing a quick smile when the extra glasses are delivered, "thank you for your generosity." She's not going to turn down free alcohol. She's not a sucker.
*
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. de Costa." Trish returns the handshake which is just as soft-fingered as his. She wealth behind his clothing doesn't go unnoticed by Trish. Shaking her head at the mention of Jessica, she waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, really, she'll be fine. As I said, just ruffled under the feathers."
"Nice to meet you, too, Liv. And you're welcome. I couldn't exactly let the whiskey go to waste, now could I?" She grins widely. "And I'd rather not drink this all to myself!" She tells them as she starts pouring them each a glass.
*
Roberto offers Liv a handshake and a friendly smile, and helps pour everyone a round of whiskey. "Si si, mucho gracias," he tells Trish, agreeing with Liv's assessment.
"She seems fun— y'know, if she was sober and not in a bad mood," he grins at Trish. "I like a lady with some of the enfuega— the spark," he tells her. "But she looks like she's got some demons of her own."
*
With a smile, Liv tucks her pen into her braid and closes her notebook, shifting it off to the side. Drinks and company win out over work. Just the way it is. "Well. I hope you two do hug it out," she tells Trish. "She'll come around. Just be patient." Easy for her to say.
Liv draws one of the glasses over to sit next to her beer, once Roberto has it poured. "Well. Since you're free now," she muses, looking to Trish. "…fighting?"
*
"Oh, yes. Plenty fun! Lots of fun, in fact! I should know!" Trish chirps off happily. "We're friends…we're sisters. And she's one of the best people I know to spend time with. Present company included." She smiles brightly. Lifting up her glass, she says, "Cheers!" And takes a big sip.
Looking at Liv, she tilts her head. "Oh, yes. Fighting! I just…I'm always interested when I meet a woman who knows how to fight. Properly fight. I know a few things, generally defensive. But I've always been interested in learning how to, you know, actually fight!"
*
"Fighting, huh?" Roberto shakes his head. "Never been a fan. Better to outrun someone, si? Fighting, you stand there and throw pjunches, hope someone doesn't get lucky or mean and bring a knife— seen that happen in the barrio too many times. A little pocketknife can really do a number on you if you're not ready for it. Better to be a lover" he winks at Trish "than a fighter." He hoists his whiskey to the women, in toaste.
*
Liv raises her glass towards Roberto and leans forward, dropping her voice to a stage whisper: "That's why I carry a sword. Cheers." She winks at him before tossing the drink back. Oh, good, it tastes like fire! Her favorite.
She sets the glass down with a very satisfied expression. "Retreat does have its place," Liv says after a moment, nodding to Roberto as her eyes slide over to Trish. "But knowing how to defend yourself is important, too. Especially in this city."
*
One, two, three, down goes the rest of her glass! Trish blinks and goes wide eyed. "Woo. That'll do the job all right!" She laughs, pouring more whiskey into her and Liv's glasses. "There's nothing wrong with being a lover and a fighter." She looks at Liv with wide eyes. "I've never seen one. That's amazing!" She's referencing the stage whispered mention of a sword. "Yes, defending yourself is very important. Me, being an actress, in the spotlight, a public figure and all, I figured better to be able to defend myself than not!"
*
Roberto tosses back the drink, hoots, and slams a palm on the table. "Ooh my, that is /ripe/," he says, clearing his throat and grinning lopsidedly. He pours another round for the three of them.
"A sword? How provincial," he grins at Liv. "Don't you know, is all the rage to duel with pistols since the 1800s now. Or the boardroom, if you're truly progressive— nothing better than taking your opponent's stock options and defenestrating them," he says with a broad, amicable grin.
*
"Do you want lessons? I'd be happy to teach you," Liv tells Trish, quite happy to offer the glass her way for a refill. Yes please~ "I mean, I'm not a proper instructor. But that's never stopped me from trying to help before."
She waves a hand dismissively at Roberto, laughing. "If I'm going to throw something out the window, it might as well be the opponent themself and not their stocks," Liv says with an impish smile. "Just more efficient. And pistols… eh." She just makes a face. "Not my style."
*
"I would absolutely love lessons!" Trish's day is definitely taking a turn for the better, though her thoughts are definitely still on Jessica. Digging through her purse, she pulls out a card that she pushes over to Liv. "You can get in touch with me through the number on there!"
"It's quite the drink, isn't it?" Trish grins widely and, without another word, downs her second glass, letting out a little wheeze and shaking her head. "Yep. As much as I try to keep up with her, this stuff has quite a kick to it!"
*
Jessica leaves, heading towards Hell's Kitchen [O].
*
Jessica has left.
*
"Whiskey. Goes down hard, but gets easier the more you have." Roberto sips his whiskey this time— smart enough to pace himself, even just a little bit. But he does pour refills for the ladies again.
"So proper fencing, huh? Where'd you learn to do that?" he asks Liv, leaning his elbows on the table conversationally and peering at her with curiousity on his swarthy, dark features.
*
Liv reaches out to accept the card from Trish, smiling brightly as she shifts in place to tuck it into her pocket. "Thank you. And if you need to get ahold of me…" She grabs for her notebook and plucks the pen from her hair, tearing off a scrap of paper big enough for her name and number. It gets offered Trish's way. Sorry, Berto.
Speaking of whom… Liv coughs quietly, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't know about proper fencing, but, ah… Reykjavik," she says, the lie as natural as can be. Years of practice. "My father had hoped for a son, and, well."
*
More whiskey! Trish only drinks half of her refilled glass now. Which is her version of 'pacing'. "Oh, thank you!" She take the piece of paper from Liv and slips it into her purse. "Now I can be the strong independent woman I always knew I could be!" She giggles. Perhaps the alcohol is juuuust starting to get to her head. After all, she did drink those first two glasses quickly. Finishing the other half of her third drink, she moves to get even more whiskey. "Rey…Reykjavik? Sounds fancy!"
*
"Never been there," Roberto admits. "And I've been almost everywhere," he informs the women, leaning back comfortably in the seat and resting his arm along the back of the booth, legs crossing loosely under the table.
"I think you are likely already strong /and/ independent, chica," he assures Trish with a sly wink. "But if the sword helps make you feel better, maybe Liv here wil give you some free lessons, eh? Just find one you can fit in your purse," he says with a broad smile. He sips more of his whiskey, exhaling heat happily and letting some of the tension slip from his shoulders.
*
"Not much of a sword if it'll fit in a purse," Liv muses, thoughtfully nodding her head from side to side. She's keeping more of an eye on Trish now that she's gone from drinking to capital-d Drinking. There's a difference, and she knows it very well. "Best to start unarmed, anyway. Then you're never at a loss."
*
Raising her glass to Roberto, Trish gins a little bit. "If you thought that kinda flattery would get you my number, you might very well be correctly." Putting down the glass, she pulls out another card and passes it to Roberto. "There. Now neither of you be strangers!" She takes a gulp of her drink and smiles widely. "Unarmed it is!" She responds to Liv. "Wouldn't want to chop my arm off with a sword!"
*
"Mm, much gracias," Roberto tells Trish, grinning at her. He pockets the card, carefully, and digs up his sleeve for one of his own and handing it to her. It says De Costa Industries — Roberto de Costa, VP. A number is listed.
"You call me /anytime/," he grins at Trish, before clinking drinks with her and throwing another shot back.
"Is good to know how to box— should see Capoeira sometime," he suggests. "The slaves invented it, they dance on their hands and strike with their feet— fight with chains and clubs. Is beautiful, more like dance than boxing."
*
"Oh, alright," Liv says with feigned exasperation, and after a moment's writing, another piece of paper is offered across the table. Roberto gets two blondes' numbers tonight. "Can't stand feeling left out."
She drops her chin into a hand and hums thoughtfully, blue eyes glancing between the pair. "That does sound like it would be something to see," Liv admits.
*
Trish finishing a few more glasses of whiskey as they talk, Trish stands up. Definitely a little bit unsteady on her feet now. Swallowing hard, she stares at Roberto and Liv. "'Twis…'twis?…'twas? It's been nice meeting both of you." She leans forward and plants a little kiss on Roberto's cheek. "Don't be too rambunctious, now, you hear?"
In her heels, despite being unstead, she seems to manage walking toward where Liv sits. "And you." She stares silently at Liv for a few seconds before leaning forward, intending to give her a kiss on the cheek as well, but instead landing it on her lips. Standing back up, she giggles and blushes. "Oops! Meant to be a cheeky, not a lipsy! SORRY!" She giggles again. "But I look forward to learning from you. Don't be a stranger now, ya hear? We women we…we need to stick together. Or else the world will go to hell in a handbasket with a card signed by us all! And I'm not gonna have that. Are you gonna have that? Of course not. None of us are gonna have that. That'd be terrible. Too terrible. Like when a baby is in their terrible twos, you know?" She rambles on. "Anyway…GOOD DAY!" She takes out a few more bills from her purse and slaps them onto the table, just in case more drinks are wanted, and she heads out.