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It's a bar. What else is new?
The only differences are that this one is a little bigger than the usual ones they end up at, and that it's filled with more mutants. As they walk in after an early evening of searching for Karolina Dean, Remy motions to the bartender with two fingers and goes to grab a table. They're waiting for someone—the cat who told Remy he had seen someone who looked like Karolina not too long ago.
*
And despite sitting a table in a bar, Jessica orders coffee instead of liquor. In fact, it comes as such a surprise to the bartender that they had her repeat her coffee order and asked if she wanted it Irish — a question which prompted an arch of a wry eyebrow. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her seat. "It'll be good to get this resolved and get another completed case on the books."
*
"Sho nuff," Remy replies. He's brought the two drinks for him instead; the assumption is he wants a drink with a beer chaser, which he gladly accepts and puts the whiskey down in a brief slam, followed by a heavy chug of the beer. Then it's time for the smoke. "Dat would put us on a roll, non? I mean, you, of course. You on a roll."
*
Jessica lifts her eyebrows at Remy. "We're on a roll," she agrees, and seemingly neglects the last piece. "Keeps the power on," she manages with a sharp inhale. "And everywhere we go, we seem to find more cases. Missing persons are a dime a dozen these days." Her lips purse and she shrugs. "Good on you finding a contact with any info. We need to follow the leads where they go."
*
"Yeah, well," Remy says as he takes another swig from his bottle. "Juss came into some money so if we have problem keepin de ole lights on, you just let ole Remy know, hear?"
It's at that moment that a squirrelly looking man come shuffling in. He's bald atop and scraggly at the sides with a rodent like face and teeth. He needs a shave and a trip to the dentist, but he seems genial enough as he greets Remy with a slap on the side. He takes a seat at the table.
"Miles. Jessica. Jessica. Miles."
"Charmed," Miles replies.
*
Jessica wryly smirks at Remy and his notion of coming into money. "Thanks. I think we're fine for now. I'm riding the Bugle job to the bank." She smirks. But when Miles enters and greets her, Jessica leans forward to greet him. "Mutual, I'm sure," she states flatly. "My associate," her head ticks towards Remy, "suggests you've seen Karolina Dean?" Nothing like getting right to business.
*
"Well," Miles looks to Remy and the later gives him a nod. "I only says this cuz me and Rem here are pals, but I swear I saw that girl you lookin' for a week or so ago. Tony Lupe, this high priced pimp who runs some of the show on the upper West and East sides has a ton of call girls they send out. Guy I know checked into one of those motels you get by the hour…pardon ma'am, don't mean no disrespect. Anyways, I saw my buddy go in with a girl who looks exactly like that. I talked to Rem and he says y'aint sure where the girl is or how she got to New York. Lupe gets his girls from Miami."
He pauses and Remy tilts his head and gives him the stink eye. As if to say, 'go on.'
"Plus there are rumors out there that when Lupe's girls start giving lip, they end up gone forever. Either killed or sold into high price slavery."
*
Jessica's nostrils flare. She emits a long breath and then nods. She looks towards Remy, "So you think Karolina Dean was pushed into this and is under the power of Tony Lupe?" Her eyebrows lift and her jaw tightens. Her eyes turn to slits and she shakes her head slightly, "Tell me, what do Tony Lupe's girls look like, and…" her lips purse, "…if a person wanted on the inside, how could a gal get… picked up?" She sniffs loudly. Nothing like going undercover to rescue a client.
*
"No," Remy interrupts and shakes his head at Jessica. "Non, cherie."
Miles looks back and forth wondering who is going to win this argument. He wants to continue and answer Jessica's question, but there's some fear about Remy's response there.
*
A flicker of a wholly unconvincing smile follows Remy's comment. "I'd be fine. I can actually take care of myself. Mostly." Jessica swallows hard.
*
Remy seems to ignore the comment as he looks to Miles, "You got contact info for dis guy in anyway? Maybe your friend can get us a number? Maybe ole Remy could head on down to Miami to find ole Lupe himself."
*
And then Jessica shakes her head and repeats the question: "If a gal were to be picked up, where would she go?" Her head ticks towards Remy, "All roads seem to lead to Miami." She finally tucks into her black coffee.
*
Remy sounds uncharacteristically irritated, "Gal ain't gunna get picked up cuz gal ain't goin on dis trip."
Miles opens his mouth, closes his mouth, and looks in between Jessica and Remy.
*
"Except she is. I can take care of myself. I've endured much worse than this, Rimy Le Beau," Jessica counters crisply. Her eyes cut towards Miles, "With a layer of makeup, a much sluttier dress… could I pass as a high end prostitute?" her eyebrows lift. Evidently she expects an answer.
*
"Ma'am, I think you could pass as anything y—"
"Shut up, Miles. Get me dose numbers and get em to me quick and yer off de hook. Fail and you know what dat means."
Remy pauses and then his eyes seem to grow, showing more black and red. "Go. Now."
Miles knows where his bread is buttered. Jess might win this battle, but Remy has the war by the ballsack and that war has Miles right in the middle. "I'll call you, Le Beau," he says, trying to stop from showing his fear. He makes to leave.
*
Jessica's lips part wordlessly a moment, and then she sliding off her chair, "What the hell was that? I can do this — " she turns to follow after Miles, "Miles!" her paces quicken as she attempts to follow him. Evidently, she's determined. That might not be one of her better qualities.
*
And….Remy makes a move and maybe this is a mistake and may…No, it's probably a mistake. He reaches out to grab Jessica by the arm and pull her back, not stopping to think that she could rip his arms clear out of their socket with a mere movement. If she wanted to. Which she might.
*
And weirdly, oddly, Jessica is given pause at the contact. Her body tenses and she snatches her arm back to her side. She inhales a sharp breath and eyes Remy warily. "What the hell was that?! We're working a fucking case. I am the best angle here. You and I both fucking know that — "
*
"Nah, not dis time. Y'ain't tinkin' clear and you and I both know dat I got quite a few experiences in dis type o' world. De play is to have me set up a meeting wit a girl. You and I both fuckin' know dat."
*
"Except I am thinking clear. Meeting some girl isn't going to give us access to Dean. Not if time is of the essence. She needs to get out of there, and that has nothing to do with us getting paid," although there is that. Jessica glowers. "We need to get this done sooner than later. She seem like a good kid."
*
"You tellin' me dat you spend months as some asshole's slave and you want to go right back to dat world, and you're tinkin' clear? Jess, listen to reason…" Remy exhales. "We can ask for de girl and bring Dean right to us, if we know what she goin' by."
*
Jessica pinches the bridge of her nose, and she quietly murmurs her address, a behaviour that has become too habitual in the last month. "We both know I could get out of that situation if I wanted to." She frowns at the memory of Killgrave, "You know… it's… Christ… I need a drink…" it's been two days.
There's a pause after her assertion, "Fine. We do it your way. I'm not happy about it. Speed is important here."
*
"Hey," Remy says to her and reaches out to grab her softly by the coat, if she lets him. "Listen to me. C'mere." He sighs. "Look, know you wanna do de right ting. Know you wanna find dis girl. And I know we gotta do it now. Dat bein' said, you gonna be right dere, just not quite as much as in harm's way. I ain't worried 'bout your body. Worried bout your mind and your heart, if you get my meanin'."
*
Jessica levels a look at Remy. Her eyes stare daggers at him. "Look. You're getting your way. I already conceded. No reason to — I know I'm not a lady, but I'm not a whore — don't insinuate … it's not … fuck."
*
"I din' call you dat. I'm worried about yo' state of mind, girl. Jumpin' in on sometin …god damnit, not everything is about sex, you know dat? I just don't want you jumpin' in to dis all over again so soon after you got out. Tinkin' you should ease your way back in."
*
Jessica's eyebrows lift, "Really? Because the eggheads seem to say otherwise. That everything is about sex. But. I get the point." Her jaw tightens and she emits a soft sigh. It's a concession, even if she doesn't say as much. "You're not wrong, but I couldn't… it wouldn't be like it was with…" she frowns. "You know what's the most fucked about all of it? It… I…" her chin lifts and then she shakes her head. Never mind. "I'll get us booked on a flight to Miami. Find out details from Miles."
*
But Remy doesn't let go of holding the front of her jacket. So much so that one of the patrons is whispering, wondering if he's holding her there against her will, and wondering if he's going to have to take Remy out with a pool cue.
"What is de most fucked up ting about all of dis? Tell me."
*
"I thought… " Jessica's eyebrows draw together. "It would be different because with Killgrave, when I was with him, when I was near him, I thought… I thought I loved him. He told me I did. And even now, when I try to make sense of the last three months of my life, I have to remind myself there's no way I could. No way I did. That I hate him. That I hate him with every fibre of my being, but it's…" her cheeks puff out. "…it's impossible. I hate him. I can't…" she blinks hard. "So no. It couldn't be the same. What happened with Kilgrave. What happened with the fucking purple creep — what he made us," not just Jessica, "do? We couldn't even feel how we wanted about it. Because he told us what we were or weren't allowed to feel about the situation." There's a pause, and for the first time in a long time, she manages, "Sorry about Bel."
She attempts to take a single step backwards, not forcefully, but still backwards, "Look. I'll get us tickets to Miami. You figure out where we have to go." Her chin drops, and her hands retreat into her jacket pockets.
*
Remy's hold on her jacket falters as he pulls out of it and his hand swings a bit as he does nothing to stop it. "I know y'are, chere. I know y'are."
"And it wasn't your fault."
