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Remy LeBeau lays nearly catatonic on the ratty nest Jessica Jones likes to call her couch. It seems almost his, now, as possession is 9/10ths of the law and Remy has been there, barely moving for a week. Barely because whenever he goes for more booze, cigarettes, or whatever else he's on he has to move.
He chain smokes, but not at a fast pace. Slow, deep intakes, followed by billowing grey that slips out of his mouth slowly, stinging his black and crimson eyes. And this is how he is now.
*
The woman dressed in head to toe black trudges from the bedroom with a large, now-empty bottle of booze in hand. Jessica's fingers curl tighter around the bottle as she skulks into the kitchen and abandons it to the counter. She opens a cupboard and peeks about the shelves.
"Fuck!" A few beats pass before the now-empty bottle is thrown hard across the room. Jones is out of booze again.
*
Remy flinches a bit just after it shatters across the floor, but other than that he doesn't even break stride in bringing the tobacco to his lips. "Some in de bag. Cheap tho'." He's also got a glass full of the stuff on the coffee table, but tellingly does not offer that one.
*
Heavy staccato'd steps — decked in combat boots — drag Jessica to the bag. She bends down and fishes through it for a bottle of booze. She takes off the lid, and tosses it aside as she trudges back to the kitchen to fish for a glass. "Where the hell are all of my glasses," she hisses. The glass that lines the floor against the back wall is likely indicative of where the glasses went.
*
"Got dis one," Remy says as he nods towards the coffee table and the one from which he drinks. He hasn't used a new one all week. "Can't speak for d'others." He pauses long enough to put a cigarette out in the ashtray before he finally sits up. There's a rush of blood around his body, like when someone just wakes up, that's a bit off putting for the Cajun. His hair, also, looks flat at the back due to the amount of time he's been laying.
*
An exasperated sigh follows Remy's remark, and Jessica gives up on the task of finding a glass and brings the bottle to her lips. A long languid gulp gets liquor into her system again. Her hands clasp around the bottle tighter. "So," she mutters. "I know you have no problem getting blitzed through… less than legal means, but I gotta pay for booze," she takes another gulp of the liquor. "Trish won't pay for me to pickle my brain for months on end."
*
Remy reaches into his wallet and it seems way too stuffed with bills. "Whadever you want, cherie. Least I could repay given' I been sleepin' here for a week or so." Emphasis on so. He pulls out a twenty and offers it towards her; an empty cigarette already in his teeth.
*
Raven arrives from Hell's Kitchen.
*
Raven has arrived.
*
Raven leaves, heading towards Tenement - Apt 6A [6A].
*
Raven has left.
*
Jessica lifts her hand and shakes her head. No, that's not what she means. "Something honest," she virtually smirks following the remark. "Well, maybe not that honest." Her shoulders sink. "I… investigate things. I find things. I may as well make a living of it." Her head cants to the side.
*
"Y'should, chere. You could make a killin'," Remy says as he tries to focus, but everything is so blurry. "Honest aint bad. Aint nothin' for me, but reckon it'd do you just fine."
*
"Maybe," Jessica agrees. "Not worried about making a fortune. Just about… the whiskey." Because a woman needs her drink. She sucks on the inside of her cheek, "But there's one problem," she arches an eyebrow. "Still a woman," and no one is going to hire a woman investigator. "You in, Le Beau?"
*
"Usually dey never ask me dat question," Remy says with a sparkle in his eye, unclear as to what he means. "Ain't got nothin' else to do, but when I get back, I can pretend to be whatever you be needin', chou."
*
Jessica's eyebrows lift at the first and she fights the smirk that threatens to play over her lips. There's a nod at the last. "Good. I'll get things moving then. Alias Investigations. Because neither of us are heroes, but we can make some cash, keep ourselves flush enough," Jess doesn't need much, and she presumes Remy doesn't either, "and be honest… enough." Her eyebrows lift and she takes another swig of liquor.
*
"Aint ever too worried bout money, course. But it beats starin' at de walls. Ain't sure when I'll be back, but I'll look y'up when I do," Remy says with a nod. With Raven in and out of jail and Fred MIA, he won't really have anyone else to come back to. Certainly not Belle.
*
A stitch of a smile edges Jessica's lips. "Just look up Alias Investigations. I'll be there." She smirks, "Or follow the faint scent of whiskey. If it's vile and in the Kitchen, I can't be far behind." Her eyes actually roll at that.
*
"Fair 'nuff," Remy says as he looks toward his bag in the corner. With a groan he gets to his feet and reaches for it, slinging it over his shoulder. "Can keep dat bottle," he says as he searches his pockets for his lighter.
*
"Where you going?" Jessica asks. It's not accusatory or even really demanding, just the general attitude of curiosity. "Just in case I get hired to find you," her eyebrows lift expectantly. "Try to stay out of trouble, eh?"
*
"France. Fixin' to go to lose myself a while. Paris. Monaco. Marseille. Was gun' ask you to come but figure you'll be busy investigatin'."
*
"Whatcha doing there?" Jessica lifts her chin with the question. "Just drinking? Smoking?" Her eyebrows lift. "Something ugly is in the Kitchen. I gotta deal with it." Her lips purse. "I don't want to talk about it, but doing something good for someone else it… helps."
*
"Gamblin', rabble rousin', et cetera," Remy says with a smile. "Good luck in the Kitchen, gal. I hate that part of town."
*
"As I said, don't get into too much trouble," Jessica returns. "Call if you need…" she shrugs, anything really. "I have fists. I can fly." Her eyebrows lift.
*
Remy nods, reaches for the door and opens it, unsure of quite where he's going or what his aim is.