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The 1960s Hilton Hotel! Where for some reason people feel the need to wear business suits as they walk in and out of it. But when Noh-Varr exits in the middle of the night, wearing a pair of sunglasses with his hands in his jacket pockets, he certainly doesn't look like a part of downtown's upper class.
Tracking him down here isn't particularly hard. While he tends to make his way into all sorts of random places, he always comes back here, and questions of sightings eventually lead to this particular consistency. So of course, it's only a matter of waiting, and look, there he is!
*
Dressed in a black tank top, a black leather jacket, black slacks, and a pair of black army combat boots, Jessica Jones doesn't really fit the posh Hilton Hotel crowd. She crosses her arm over her chest and watches along one of the many columns of the building.
Her lips quirk into a near smirk as she finds her mark. She follows him at a distance, keeping an eye on his actions until she can find some space to get him alone. Or, at least, alone enough.
*
Noh-Varr walks for about a block until he finds a dark alley, then leans against the wall and raises his wrist to start talking into it. He states a log date, then begins, "Today I discovered 'The Hotdog'. It wasn't at all actually a dog. I drank soda, it was a strange, carbonated beverage. Like many foods I've tried so far, they're clearly toxic to the human body."
*
Jessica's lips part as she lingers bit behind Noh-Varr. Her eyebrows draw together and she shakes her head. "Great," she mutters to herself before clearing her throat to get his attention. She leans against the wall opposite the other man and her arms cross tightly over her chest. "So. The fellow who came into my office," aka house, "to hire me to investigate," aka follow, "you thought you were some kind of," she emits a high pitched whistle meant to emulate a space vessel, "foreigner," aka alien, "but in actuality you're just special," aka crazy.
*
"I suppose I am special, compared to the average person in this city." Noh-Varr says as he lowers his arm and stares over at her from behind his sunglasses. "I suppose I wasn't very careful. But you can be sure that he was an entirely insane person, and his claims had no validity. I am, indeed, simply a foreigner, from some far off part of the world."
*
Jones' jaw tightens. "Well, I found you. I'm not entirely sure what else I should be doing," she states simply. "I'll give you one thing, you are fucking strange." Her head cants to the side and she watches him for several beats. "Where you from…" she swallows, "foreigner?"
*
"The far North." Noh-Varr vaguely declares, then offers his hand to her. If she looks close, she'll see the hint of something thick and gold on his wrist under his jacket sleeve. "Right, the customary handshake. My name is Noh-Varr."
*
"Like…" Jessica arches a single eyebrow, "…Canada?" Her lips twist to the side and she shakes her head, "You don't look like any Canadian I've met." She smirks at the notion of the customary handshake and simply offers, "I don't touch people. You should make it a habit not to either. This is New York. You never know where anyone has been."
*
"I won't catch any diseases, I don't have the poor health of… Americans. But no, I'm even further North than Canada." Noh-Varr insists, then suddenly crosses his arms, looking thoughtful. "Is there any chance you could give me the location of the person who sent you to find me? I may need to speak with them."
*
Jessica reaches into her jacket pocket and extracts a package of cigarets. One is extracted and put between her lips. She lights it with a lighter from her pocket and takes a long puff off of it. "That," she takes a long puff and then blows it out, "would be bad for business."
*
Noh-Varr opens his mouth, inhaling the smoke, then exhales with a light cough. "That is far more deadly chemicals than I expected a human to intentionally ingest." he observes, being a bit sloppy with his choice of words for a moment. "Well then, since this is a business, I will do an invaluable service for you in exchange for convincing him that whatever he thinks is entirely false."
*
"Bite me," Jessica replies coldly. "Pickling my brain is my goddamned American right." Her eyebrows lift as she watches him intently. "So. Your," she lifts her eyebrows to punctuate the word, "human," her eyes narrow, "brain is chemical free?" A feline pull of her lips draws over her features at the last, "Right. Nice…" her head cants, "…Canadian(?) like you have plenty of resources?"
*
"My brain has billions of chemicals, but very few of them are foreign." Noh-Varr answers somewhat cryptically, then nods his head. "While I could offer you money, which is particularly simple to acquire. I believe that you might have more of a need for an engineer. This primitive technology is more than simple to fix or even upgrade. And I've noticed that things in New York appear to be in perpetual decay. So, does the service of my skills interest you at all? I could also teach you combat techniques that no one else on Earth could teach you."
*
Jessica squints and her expression sours. "What." She takes a long inhale of her cigarette. "Do I look like I need an engineer?" her eyebrows lift skeptically. "Look buddy, I don't know what you're playing at. Or why you're so desperate for some…" clients pay money say nice things about them, "…person to be put off course. But here in New York? Liquor costs money. And I need it." Badly. Her lips twist to the side, however, and she shakes her head. She can definitely get double-paid on this one. She can convince the other guy he's wrong, and still collect on whatever favour this whack-job wants to owe her. "Fine. I'll convince him," she replies. "I'll tell him you're Canadian," which she knows he isn't.
*
"Alcohol? That's simple chemistry. Why don't you just make your own? I've read a little into American history, people used to do it all the time." Noh-Varr simply sighs, pushing from the wall. "I've acquired a lot of money for the week, now that I've adjusted to this economy. We can go buy you lots of alcohol, though it isn't particularly healthy. I suppose I could allow myself to be affected by the toxins as well, brain poisoned could be an interesting experience."
*
A smile pulls at the edges of Jessica's lips and she treads towards Noh-Varr to give his shoulder a squeeze. "Alright. It's a deal. Come by Hell's Kitchen," she relays the address. "Later this week. We'll drink, talk, and figure out what makes you so Canadian," aka strange. She smiles tightly and then finally extends a hand, "Jessica Jones. Alias Investigations."
*
Noh-Varr takes her hand. His grip explicitly tries to measure itself to her's, as human handshakes can be a bit weird. "Noh-Varr, as I said earlier. No particularly special titles, just a normal, foreign human name. I'll look forward to our bonding exercise."
*
Jessica's eyes narrow at the touch, but she nods vaguely before releasing Noh-Varr's hand and taking a single step back. "Alright," she issues and then frowns. "You should consider an alias. No one is going to believe that's a Canadian name." She hums quietly. "Noah. I'm going to call you Noah," at least for now. She takes a few steps back. "Look me up. I'll deal with the rest." And with that Jones trudges off back towards the Kitchen.