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The door to Alias Investigations opens quietly and just a smidge at first. As if someone is checking something before they're entering. It's a cat-thief move, typical of the greatest con man in town. Remy Le Beau slips in, assuming Jess is not home. She's probably still at the police station about to find out if she's going to be charged. He is wrong.
He pads silently to the corner where he keeps his duffel bag full of stuff (money) and clothes and other stuff. He checks a pack of cigarettes that either he or Jess smoked. A couple of empty whiskey bottles. He'll leave those for her. Heh. Heh.
*
Instead, Jessica is behind the door staring at the wall that's become a giant mess of connections, string, and colour coordinating ramblings. Her combat boots, black leather jacket, and faded wash blue jeans feel wonderfully familiar as she outright stares at the web.
Ironically, she doesn't smell of booze. In fact, despite having spent so many hours in holding, she's made the decision to stay level. At least for the time being. Her head turns to watch Remy in his silence, prompting her lips to purse irritably before noting, "You're not as fucking sneaky as you think you are."
*
"Why would I need to sneak?" Remy says as he plays it off in classic con-man style. Dammit, having a confrontation with someone who could break your neck is never a good thought. But, Remy has cause for being confident. It's not likely that she'll give two shits anyways.
"Glad you got out. Din even need none o' mah money neider. Good deal. Dey jus' let you go or wha?"
*
A wry eyebrow is raised at Remy's first question. Why, indeed. But Jessica doesn't feel the need to say as much. Instead, her arms cross over her chest and she pensively stares at the web she's created. "Fucking bullshit. I'm missing something. Why the hell would they go missing?" she mutters quietly.
It's only then that the second question seems to register, "Lawyer got me out. Thinks I should sue for defamation. Which is bullshit. Don't need the fucking attention."
*
"Yeah, prolleh. But could get you some o dat recognition for de business dat we need." Apparently Remy's using us and we today. Nevertheless he slings his bag up over his shoulder as he prepares to leave, taking a minute to take a look at the map.
"Could be a assault ting. Ole bastards tryin' to get dere jollies. Could be a power drain ting. You talked to that girl, yet?"
*
Jessica's eyes darken, "No." Her arms tighten over her chest. "Don't think it's a good idea I go. I was accused of kidnapping and assaulting her two days ago." Her lips form a tight-purse-frown, altogether disapproving. "Don't know where they took her either." She chews on her bottom lip and turns her head to watch him. "Where you going?"
*
"Me or Maverick could go and have a word wit de lil lady. Even Ava. Dun matter much which one of us it is," Remy replies. His eye flickers just a trace as he plays it off without any other tell tale tells. "Well, dun decided dat now I ran into some money I can stop buggin' you around here. Couch surfin' can only happen for so long, and you done been good sport 'bout it."
*
A slow nod follows the statement. "Someone needs to wait outside her room wherever it is. She's in danger," that's the long and short of it from Jessica's perspective. "Whoever dropped her here didn't intend for her to live." Her jaw tightens substantially, "And when they know where she is," she frowns. The rest has her shaking her head slightly before returning to the wall. Her hands flex into small fists and she hums quietly. "We need to investigate the rest of these kids. I want to know who they were, and why no one gives a shit that they're missing."
Her nostrils flare and her fingers flex only to turn back into fists seconds later. She's fidgeting and trying not to. Something is making her edgy.
*
Remy nods, "Aiight. Maybe Mav an' me go sit by her room and jus' make sure. I can call 'im iffen ya wan me to. I gotta go sign de lease with Ava and den I can get back down here pretty quick." He stole a car, go figure. As far as the fidgeting, Remy just assumes she needs a drink. This case does that to folks.
*
Jessica's head turns to watch Remy a few beats. "Predictable," she mutters, and then, rather abruptly, she nods. "Go sign your lease. I'll send North." If she can find him. The office is oddly empty, and rather unsettling as a result. "And I'll talk to these kids." Because everyone knows sending Jessica Jones to high school is going to be productive.
*
"Predictable?" Remy says, turning to look at her now, not far from her face. It's the first time he can think of where they've actually looked at each other straight in the face since Bel died. "Beg yo' pardon?"
*
There's a strange silence that follows the request for more information, and hazel eyes stare boldly back at him. For once she's not averting eye contact, not looking away, and not disengaging from the question. She swallows hard, never taking a moment to look away. There's an undeniable fire underneath that stoic outward exterior, and she holds where she is, letting the request for clarification be just that. The game of chicken takes a turn as she just repeats the word: "Predictable."
*
'Oh I hea'd ya, little lady. Was hopin' for a bit of eloocidashun, do, if y'know what I mean," Remy replies. "You mad because I made plans for de day and not workin' he-ah? Girl, I been gettin de crumbs of dis whole operation and been shut out of erry decision you been makin. Yesterday, fo' all intents and purposes, you asked me to quit. Now I gotta get myself a roof over mah head, which I'm doin', in part, to save y'all some grief, and you given me an attitude?" Remy sighs and shakes his head. "Who de predictable one?"
"
*
And, at least one of them holds position. Jessica Jones stands her ground. Without liquor in her system, she's level enough to keep from turning into a ranting mess. Her thoughts race with something unspoken. "I'm not mad," she finally counters. "I said you're predictable." Because they're not the same thing. She doesn't move, doesn't gesture, and does step out of that space or look away. There's a very obvious edge to her expression, but it's not one that can be easily parsed. Jessica Jones has a very solid pokerface.
"And I didn't ask you to quit. I gave you a fucking out."
*
LOG EDIT: and *doesn't step out of that space or look away
*
"Ne'er wanted an out, chere. If I did, Ida had one a long time ago," Remy says. "Fair 'nuff. Y'aint mad. You win." He readjusts the bag on his shoulder. "If ya need me, I'll be back after signin' de lease. You want Mav on it, dats your choice. You de boss." He gives her a nod that is surprisingly flat, basically giving up that if she's not going to cave or actually talk, it doesn't make sense for him too either. She'd probably think he was being a baby, and she'd be right.
*
The tension in Jessica's body isn't something she can easily override. The way her mind works around the thought and what does or doesn't anger her is something she can't even distinguish. Vulnerability doesn't befit her. Trish would say otherwise. Finally, however, she has a rare moment of honesty, even if it doesn't seem relevant at this moment. "I had my hands around someone's neck yesterday and I relived every moment of the last time I had my hand on someone's neck. I felt their carotid artery pulsate as I tightened my grip. And in mere moments, I could've snuffed them out. All I saw was one thing and one thing only."
And then, finally, perhaps relatedly, she states flatly, "I get it. It's predictable, but I get it." Her lips curve upwards slightly. "I'd give up on me too."
*
"Dat ain't fair," Remy says. "I ain't givin' up on you. I'm givin' you space. E'er since I had my lil Romeo moment you been locking me out of everyting round here. Lil space will do us good and maybe get tings back to normal 'round here." Whatever that is.
"But you dint, right? You dint snuff dem out. Yer makin good ground. Yer tinkin' clear, makin' good decisions, and for de sake of Paul, you actually smell good today."
*
"I'm bad for you," Jessica offers in return. "I'm protecting you. I'm protecting me." Evidently honesty begets more honesty. "Can't you see that?" the tension in her body slowly fades, loosening into something far more relaxed at the words. "I'm a fucking mess." Her eyes finally turn away, giving a momentary reprieve from the intensity of her stare. "I like you, and I'm a fucking mess."
*
"Maybe y'are. Would stand t'reason, really. Be dat as it may, havin' me up in y'face all de time prolly ain't helpin. Besides, Ava needs someone t'look out fer her a lil bit." Remy takes a few steps to try and get her eye again, "Yer a fucking mess, but yer gettin' better."
He gives her a faint grin and then leaves for the door
*
ROLL: Jessica +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 76
*
The assertion has Jessica's eyebrows lifting. "Maybe." She's unconvinced. She still doesn't feel like herself. She doesn't feel like she's in her own skin. She takes two steps towards him, following his movement before, rather abruptly, reaching for his collar to draw him into a quick kiss. Ironically, while the collar tug has some force, the rest is weirdly docile and incredibly easy to avoid — a demand of living under Kilgrave's thumb.
*
As her lips press against his his hands slide onto her sides as if to say he's shocked, but he's not that shocked and as she pulls away its his turn to move in and kiss her back. Once, twice, maybe thrice unless he's punched. Once he pulls away, if he's not planted in the wall, he keeps his face close to her. "Y'do smell real good today." And with that he pulls away, grabs his duffel, and heads out the door.