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Alias Investigations isn't a fancy place by any stretch of the imagination. The broken lock on the door, the weird sign about working for booze on the door, and the random desk set up in Jessica Jones' living room, probably all speak to how disorganized and haphazard this operation is. Yet, just the same, it seems to get phone calls, and ever since Noh-Varr arrived, it's been ringing almost off the hook.
Jones has resolutely ignored it since getting company. Evidently there isn't enough booze to make it worthwhile at this point. She sits atop the desk and eyes her guest as she brings a glass of amber fluid to her lips. Another glass sits in fronton her visitor and she squints curiously at him. "So. You came." There's a skeptical cant of her head. "And here I thought you were another one of those hucksters just trying to pull a fast one."
*
"I don't have any need for deceit, I could take anyone on this planet in both hand to hand and intellectual combat." Noh-Varr says quite confidently, raising the glass to take a slight sip. "I'm still fascinated by the willingness of us, the human race, to drink things that are clearly toxic. But I will allow it to affect my brain and see what the fuss is all about."
*
"By the way, this place is a mess. I'm more than willing to make us less like a pig house." He may have meant something else by that, but he tried.
*
"You fit your head through that door?" Jessica arches a single eyebrow and her fingers curl tighter around her glass. Skeptically, her eyes narrow at Noh's insistence on referring to their collective being as the human race. "Uh. Drinking is the best." She rolls her eyes at the assessment of her home, "It's a roof. A bed. A desk. And it's a place to keep my booze."
*
"Yes, well, Earth is a lawless land of crime and and trash farming. This apartment as you call it, has no security measures at all. That door is broken and there is very little you could do to stop a band of roving disgruntled business men. New York is full of them." Noh-Varr takes a longer sip this time, moving to lightly rub his temples. "It truly does feel like being slowly poisoned."
*
Jessica rolls her eyes, "I can take care of myself, despite popular belief. Businessmen aren't remotely threatening. And I doubt vampires would let locks stop them." She slides off the desk and slumps into one of the chairs adjacent the desk. She polishes off her glass of whiskey and refills it. Evidently one is not enough. "And the poisoning means it's working," she smirks.
*
"So, this is what you do. That and ignore that constant ringing. You seem miserable." Noh-Varr notes as he downs his glass rather quickly when she finishes, and offers it over to her for a refill. He stands to sit in a chair next to her's, sinking back into it a little. "Granted, there isn't much to do. I've been occupying my time building stronger radios. I still need to acquire a television to do the same, this limited number of stations is terribly boring."
*
You seem miserable. "Thank you for noticing~" Jessica its her eyelashes quickly. Her eyes roll again. "The ringing is interrupting the booze. And the last time I took a call I ended up in Hell." Her eyebrows lift to punctuate the point and ask Whatcha gonna do about it?. "Living is overrated. At least I can dull the misery," she lifts her glass in a cheers motion. "So… where did you say you were from, Noah? I sure as hell don't believe Canada."
*
"I'm from a place called Hala." Noh-Varr ambiguously answers, continuing to sip. "Oh, that portal in Central Park. I killed some things from it. I did warn them that giant tentacles beyond human comprehension would come out if they messed with it. That's usually what comes out of mysterious portals." Another sip, and he stares at her for a long moment. "I'm an expert at interdimensional physics, among other things."
He simply shakes his head though, then smiles. "Living is only overrated when you have nothing to live for. We, the human race, we have it good. We can gorge ourselves on snacks, drink poison, not worry about intergalactic space treaties or if we'll have to scorch some filthy shape shifting race for making a war last for a thousand years. We just drink, mate, and eat. That is the sum of human existence. It seems worth living, to me."
*
"Alright," Jessica shakes her head. "Look, Bud. Noah. You need to get your shit together. You can't stay that and then expect not to end up in the looney bin." She puts her glass on the desk in front of her. "You know what the client thought you were, right? Some kind of," she emits a high pitched whistle. "And it's no wonder, you talk like — like you believe you're not human. You spend so much energy trying to convince me you are, it's obvious you have some kind of — " she lifts a hand to her head, "drug-addled delusion. Which whatever. Power to you. But you need to get your shit together." Her cheeks puff out with an exhalation of breath. "Someone is going to put you away."
*
"You're only one human, no one would believe you. They'd sooner put you into a 'looney bin' before me. Acclimating to Earth is difficult, because of the wide variety of cultures and personalities. It's like your species can't seem to decide what it wants to be." Noh-Varr finally just reaches over and grips the edge of the desk, then deadlifts it a few feet into the air. "Sorry, this charade is exhausting. Let's put an end to it and then maybe we can have a productive discussion."
He puts the desk down, then raises a hand to his head. "Though this alcohol is making me slightly dizzy."
*
"Evidence is a thing," Jessica replies wryly. "And Alias Investigations may be the new kid on the block, but Jessica Jones isn't." She leans forwards in her seat. "I have more than one trick up my sleeve." Maybe she's bluffing, but it's impossible to tell. "So. What on earth are you then?" Her lips quirk as she seems to feel like she's getting somewhere.
Until he lifts the desk. That causes her eyes to deaden. She reaches for the edge and follows suit. Call.
The last has her observing, "Means it's working. Have more." She fills his glass.
*
"I see, so you're one of those strange humans with an ability. My name is Noh-Varr, of the 18th Kree Diplomatic Gestalt, Universe-200080. I'm both not from this universe or this planet. Though since physical enhancements aren't unknown to your species…" Noh-Varr holds his right arm up, revealing the golden gauntlet wrapped around it as his jacket sleeve falls back. Then it begins to liquify, reforming into a strange, ornate pistol. He aims it at the phone, then fires a small blast of green plasma. He aims for the wire, apparently tired of hearing it ring. "I'll fix it later."
*
Jessica plucks the bottle from the desk and squints at the label. Perhaps its stronger than she thought. She taps lightly on the label and then sets it back down. "Uh-huh," Jessica replies blandly. After having spent a week in hell, it just makes sense that aliens would exist. She lifts her glass and finishes it before slamming the glass back on the desk. She brings the bottle to her lips. Forget the glass.
"Shit," this one has made up an entire narrative about himself. Her jaw shifts and she takes a swig out of the bottle before wiping her mouth with her sleeve. She looks towards the phone and then shakes her head, "And hell yeah, you better fix it later. I need that to get clients." Which wasn't a concern only seconds ago.
"Look. Noah," because Noh-Varr continues to not be a name, "you need lessons in being a person. Because seriously. Even when you're trying to sound like a person, you're failing."
*
"I'm stranded on an alien planet surrounded by primitives brainwashed by incredibly wealthy crime syndicates to buy their products. I may find it slightly difficult to relate." Noh-Varr's gun liquifies and takes the form of a gauntlet again, then he relaxes and simply starts to drink again. "I fit in enough to survive. My intent wasn't to make friendships. But you know, I enjoy your company so far. Sure, you're miserable, but your outlook on life is actually extremely logical, considering your surroundings."
*
"Well, fuck you," Jessica returns as her chin lifts at Noh-Varr. "Some people deserve to be miserable. So they wallow in the misery that they have, and bask in whatever," she swirls the comfort, "comfort the can have." Chew on that one. "You barely fit in to survive. A stranger sent a private investigator to first of all find you, and then assess if you weren't of this world. I would say you're failing at both hiding, or even," her face scrunches like she's sucked on a lemon, "knowing you should try to be hiding, and blending in." Her lips purse.
*
"I'm still analyzing basic human behavior, it's not a race. But clearly your species -is- smarter than I gave it credit for, since I didn't know that you were capable of discerning the sort of patterns required to track me." Noh-Varr sips, and stares, looking curious but tipsily relaxed. "How could you deserve to be miserable? I legitimately don't understand self-loathing. Did you kill anyone? Is there someone you hate? If I shot someone you hate, would you feel better? Or maybe it's some strange human guilt, like you spilled milk. I hear that's a large area of emotional turmoil for your species."
*
Jessica clears her throat. "Some people have guilt because they're guilty." Her eyes train on the bottle and she brings it to her lips again. "Present company is one of those," she shoots him the most sublime smile she can manage; the effect is rather unsuccessful. "I killed two people for certain. Maybe more." The smile turns sour and she takes another long swig of whiskey. "One deserved to die."
*
"Guilt isn't going to bring someone back from the dead. I'm going to explain something, and I'm someone with the scientific knowledge to objectively explain time travel." Noh-Varr begins, with another long sip. "What you're doing is only illogical self-punishment. Since you don't have the brain nanobots to control your emotions particularly well, I'd suggest shooting someone who has killed more people than you. Logically it should tip the scales of balance. Well, it's as logical as punishing yourself instead of moving on with your life."
He hangs his head back over the chair, looking even more tipsy than before. "Well, I'm at least not judging you. Things happen. If you feel that bad about doing it then it means you're not a bad person. At least as far as humans define the term. There's a lot of self-justification built into your morality and language, it gives me a lot to work with."
*
Jessica takes another long gulp of whiskey. "He was in my head," her eyes darken. "He spent months in my head, and like Barbie — the plastic doll with the perma-smile — I just did what he said. Everything he said." She takes another swig of whiskey. "I let him touch me. I destroyed a building full of people because he was bored." Her eyebrows lift. "And then my fist went through my friend's skull." She balls her hand into a tight fist. "I can still feel it. The way her bones gave way under strength. I can hear the crunch. And then I can feel the control break. The way he no longer had power…" Her lips purse. "I snapped his neck." Her eyes finally land on Noh-Varr, "I don't regret killing him. But, it's still not enough."
*
"I see. Abusing mind control. I somewhat wish you didn't kill him, I'd have given him a taste of that. I have mind control spit, using nanobots, but the idea of using it to toy with people seems rather petty. I rarely use it except in emergencies." Noh-Varr frowns, staring down into his drink. "My presence is probably uncomfortable now, but it didn't seem right to keep that information from you. If it makes you feel any better, I have no desire to spit on you. Well, not outside of you anyway."
"I'm not really plagued with guilt for my past actions, I think about them and then I quickly move on. But the human psyche is different, so it's difficult to know how to comfort you for something this severe." He pauses, and stares down at his alcohol again. "I've decided that I was too hasty in judging your unhealthy habit. I'm going to help you live life to its fullest, with lots of alcohol and human debauchery."
*
"He was a piece of shit, and he needed to be put down before he hurt my sister," Jessica states blandly. Her eyes hone in on the bottle again. "Zebediah Kilgrave deserved torture and then some, but I couldn't do that with Trish so close by." Her lips quirk into a small frown. "Snapping his neck was the only way to protect everyone involved." The notion of mind-controlling spit has Jessica squinting again. "You're so odd. But… thanks, I guess?" Her eyes narrow. "Never spit on me. Ever. Even if mind control has nothing to do with it."
Her eyebrows lift and she smirks, "Well you just got a lot more fun. So we'll drink. And we'll party. We should try to get some grass."
*
"There's a lot of grass in Central Park." Noh-Varr helpfully points out, standing up, then stumbling a little. "My reflexes are off, but I'm triple-jointed, so I probably won't break anything." He offers a hand to her, which is actually a strange, skin-tight glove that she'll have seen earlier goes all the way up his arm. "Should we go now, or continue drinking this?"
"And it seems like you ended the life of a horrible monster." he considers, tone very casual and measured. "Even if it's not enough for you, it means no one else will suffer. If it makes you feel any better, my entire family died about a week ago when we crash-landed here. They're irradiated. I still am very livid, but I have no one to direct that anger at, so I simply keep my emotional state at a healthy place."
*
"Woah," Jessica stares at Noh-Varr. Her eyes flit towards the window and she presses herself up to a stand. "My family died in crash too. Much more than a week ago." She swallows hard. "My sister… I was adopted." She shrugs. It's the truth of the Trish Walker story. "You need an outlet for that. Even if you keep yourself in a healthy emotional state, it's not… if you want to be like humans at all, you deal with emotions." Her lips twist to the side, "People say talking helps. But I hate that. Drinking helps," she affirms this fact with a nod. "So. The Park? Find some grass. Smoke. Drink. Repeat?"
*
"I haven't had time to deal with anything, trying to survive on a hostile alien planet." Noh-Varr is quick to remind her, then just nods. "Sure, we can do that. We could also vigorously mate at some point, if you like. Also, I'd love to try pizza." he suggests, patting his stomach a few times.
*
"You… paint quite the picture," Jessica states as she puts the bottle in a brown paper bag. She takes a step towards the door. "Yeah, let's get grass. And then we'll smoke it and WANT pizza. Big time. I promise." She tugs her leather jacket on.
*
"I'm skeptical, but I'll do it. Keeping my nanobots functioning in a more human manner with my body chemistry has been fun and interesting so far." Noh-Varr agrees, and starts heading out himself.