|
   |
In theory, La Caravelle is not open. Not to the public. St. John Allerdyce is no longer "the public". Between his relationship with Trish Walker, his upcoming movie, his friendship with Wilson Fisk, and his public displays of power — in the service of the good people of New York, of course — he no longer qualifies as "just anyone". That means that he has a new, quiet place to work, a place that doesn't mind serving him tea instead of liquor, and a stunning view of the city at well.
Sinjin is the only occupant of the restaurant, in the hours before lunch. He's seated at a south-facing window, typewriter set on the cream table linen in front of him, cigarette in hand. A fresh pot of Irish Breakfast tea steams in the center of the table. Sinjin's attire is certainly not black tie, as the dress code requires. It's simple, black shirt unbuttoned enough to show the scars down his throat, black slacks, boots, a dark red velvet jacket hung over the back of his chair.
He runs a hand through his loose red hair, winces as he brushes the bruise and cut he keeps forgetting, but doesn't stop glaring at the half-finished page that awaits him.
*
Last evening, Jean-Paul Beaubier was enjoying some cheap alcohol and what might charitably be referred to as a bar-fight in Harlem. So, naturally, he has come to La Caravelle today in search of lunch. Two weeks ago, he would have had no trouble simply breezing inside, regardless of whether the restaurant was open or not.
But it is no longer two weeks ago, as the gentleman just inside the door is patiently attempting to explain to a very well-dressed Jean-Paul, who is actively breezing his way past him all the same.
"Please understand, we have always valued your business, but we are not looking for any trouble — "
"And if you would kindly shut your mouth and bring me my coffee, Louis, you shall find none," Jean-Paul says curtly, waving dismissively. "I am in no mood, it is too early."
*
Sinjin looks up from his typewriter, puts his cigarette between his lips, and gets up with a slight grimace. Training is taking its toll. He approaches the slight commotion slowly, thumbs tucked in his belt loops. He stops when he recognizes the man from the papers.
There's a slight pause as he weighs the moment, then he makes up his mind, takes his cigarette out, exhales smoke.
"Mr. Beaubier is joining me, Louis," he says almost lazily. He approaches, offers Jean-Paul his hand. "St. John Allerdyce. It's good to meet you. Louis, if you'd bring Mr. Beaubier his coffee."
Beat. Louis nods curtly. Authors must have to associate with all types and Sinjin is a mutant himself, after all, though an honest one, at least. "Yes, Mr. Allerdyce." Jean-Paul gets a sharp glance as Louis retreats to the kitchen.
*
There is a glint of something in Jean-Paul's eye when he turns towards the unfamiliar voice. Whatever it is, it is soon replaced by an almost feline smile as he takes the offered hand for a shake. "M'sieur Allerdyce, of course. The pleasure is all mine."
He doesn't so much as spare Louis a glance when the man departs. He'll bring himself to care when his drink arrives, perhaps. For now, his focus is entirely on Sinjin.
"I am a great admirer of your work," Jean-Paul admits. "And your backbone."
*
"Can't have the first without the second." Sinjin shrugs it off, then gestures toward his table. "As I said. You're welcome to join me. I prefer this view." He leads the way, a slight hitch in his step. He still limps, even though he no longer needs his cane, but he covers it well enough unless one is looking closely.
*
And Jean-Paul is looking closely. He does not mention it, just follows him back towards his table. The closest he comes to acknowledging it is outpacing him just enough to beat him there and draw John's chair out for him, and once he sits, help him scootch back into place.
"Please. There are many journalists out there who lack a spine," Jean-Paul says warmly, moving around the table to slide into the chair across from John's. "Those who are willing to risk assassins in order to get a story out are few and far between." After a pause, he adds, "And they do not usually also write such lovely books."
*
"I'm a bit of a stubborn bastard," Sinjin says with a shameless kind of laugh. "If someone going to try to kill me, I'm damn well going to earn it. Same thing with the books." He taps the ash off his cigarette into a heavy crystal ashtray by his typewriter. "I have a tendancy to do the opposite of what I'm told." He flashes Jean-Paul a grin that makes his eyes glitter. "People don't mind it when it makes them money."
"And then there's you." Sinjin leans back in his chair in a most ungentlemanly fashion, a loose sprawl of lanky limbs. His gaze is speculative, but not unkind. He's remarkably unjudgmental in his regard. "Any time you'd like to give me an interview, well. I'll give you my card."
*
"Normally, I am not terribly fond of interviews," Jean-Paul admits with a sigh, shifting in his chair so that he can stretch out his legs and rest his feet on one of the empty chairs at their table, one arm coming up to fold across the back of his own chair. "But for you? I think I might make an exception."
*
"I'm flattered." Sinjin is not flirting but he is warm — he doesn't envy Jean-Paul his position at the moment. Though, maybe he does. Just a little. But he has work to do and sometimes, he knows, one can't have everything. At the least, he can be of some help to Jean-Paul, perhaps. He shifts to get his wallet out of his jacket and comes up with a card, which he offers to Jean-Paul. "If I can be of any other assistance, as well…feel free."
Louis returns with Jean-Paul's coffee, looking resigned. "The kitchen is not officially open but the chef does offer a light meal if the gentlemen would like."
Sinjin almost laughs out loud at the word "gentlemen" but he nods. "Whatever Pierre would like to serve," he allows. It's the way to any chef's heart and Sinjin doesn't like to be too much trouble when he's here in the off hours.
*
Jean-Paul is not flirting. Not yet. John would definitely be able to tell if he was. "If consenting to be interviewed will allow me to come and eat here again, it seems a small price to pay," he says playfully, beaming as he leans forward to accept the card between a pair of fingers. It gets lifted to his temple in a salute before he tucks it away into his jacket.
Ahh, coffee. Perhaps now he can become more civilized. Jean-Paul does not remove his feet from the chair when he reaches out to intercept the cup on its way to the table. "Merci, Louis. If Pierre would like to serve something, I would not say no," he says graciously, tipping his head towards Sinjin in a silent 'what he said'.
*
"M'sieurs," Louis says crisply. Resigned is his default state so this seems to be as good as it gets.
"Don't think I'll ever get over anyone trying to call me a gentleman," Sinjin says, allowing himself a little laughter. He puts the last of his cigarette out and takes another, offering them to Jean-Paul as well. "I hadn't had a roof over my head for nearly seven years before I came to New York. Sell some papers, date the right girl, shake the right hands, and suddenly it's "sir" and "if the gentleman would like" and I'm still getting used to owning more than one pair of boots."
*
"Someone suggested I looked nice last evening," Jean-Paul says with an amused twist of his lips, watching Sinjin thoughtfully through the steam rising off of his coffee. "Well. She may know better now. I am a great many things, but I am not nice." With a sigh, he sips his coffee. He knows the temperature will not be too hot for it.
*
"I've never been nice, myself. Kind, to the right person, maybe." Sinjin's expression softens and there's a warmth in his eyes. "But, no, I'm not nice. I'm not a gentleman. I've never had the money," he says bluntly.
Louis returns in a swirl of disdain to deliver fresh croissants and a plate of cheese and fruits. More than adequate for the hour. "Pierre sends his regards," he says to Sinjin. "Will you and Miss Walker be dining Friday night?"
"We mean to be here," Sinjin says with a nod. "Thank you."
When Louis departs, Sinjin explains: "Pierre is a fan. Not of mine, of Trish's. It's hard to walk down the street without running into one every few paces so I'm not surprised. He looks forward to seeing her, to having a little chat. She always obliges."
*
Jean-Paul can't decide whether to be put-out or amused as Sinjin gets more attention from Louis than he does. It's not the way these things are supposed to go and it is somehow simultaneously annoying and novel. He just reaches over to steal himself a croissant and waits for Louis to go. Hmpf.
"This is the lady you mentioned, I take it?" he asks, peering across towards John with a slight tilt of his head. "Hmm."
*
"Trish Walker, yes. She tolerates me for reasons I have yet to unravel. And she's the lead in an upcoming movie based on one of my novels." Sinjin puts his cigarette down to pour himself some more tea and then take some grapes.
"Anyone else, I'd say it was because of that, but she's a little too honest for that kind of thing. Too good for me, that's for certain, but there's no accounting for taste. On the other hand, with my track record, I probably won't last another year. I'm bound to piss the wrong guy off any time now." He winks at Jean-Paul, then pops a grape into his mouth. Zero regrets.
*
"I must confess to some surprise. She does not really seem your type," Jean-Paul says thoughtfully, studying the man across the table while he nurses his drink.
After a pause that is just a heartbeat too long, Jean-Paul adds, "In everything I have seen her in, she just seems so terribly earnest and sweet. It feels an odd match." He purses his lips and looks down at his drink consideringly, then shrugs to himself and chugs the rest of his coffee down.
*
"She's like that. More than like that. It's like she's hardly real, but then, there she is. She's realistic and honest and she's not stupid and yet…" Sinjin looks out the window, everything else forgotten for the moment. "She's really that gentle and good. People like her don't like people like me. People like me don't end up…here."
Sinjin pulls his attention back to where they are and picks up his cigarette, gestures with it. "But she had dinner with me here, when I was basically fresh out of the hospital. Could hardly walk. Looked like the walking dead. She looked right past it. Some people are just good. I'm pretty much the opposite of that." He snorts softly. "So, yes, it's an odd match. But that's on me. I'm the odd man out. Always am, in any room. But I suppose you know the feeling."
*
Jean-Paul sets his mug aside once it's empty and lets out a soft, thoughtful hum. "Not really. I am beginning to now, I think," he allows, casting a brief, accusatory look over his shoulder towards Louis' station. "There are people now who would try to make me feel unwelcome and as if I did not fit." Slowly, he is leaning forward and dropping his voice as if he is about to impart a great secret. "But it does not work because I have always known that I do not fit in. How dull would that be, to belong?"
*
"I wouldn't know." Sinjin laughs quietly. "Really. There's unwelcome, which — I don't think you can do my job if you're not okay with being unwelcome — and then there's unwanted, which is a little too familiar. Belonging doesn't last, people can take it away from you at any point in time. It's not inherent, everyone gets a vote on whether or not your belong. It's best not to get too invested in that. Being wanted, though. I wouldn't pass it up. Even if it bored me, maybe. Who knows? Maybe I'll get a chance to find out."
He leans forward as well, elbow on the table and chin in his hand, smoke curling up from his cigarette. "Why'd you do it? Not the mutant part. The other. You didn't have to. Did you just figure — damned for one, damned for two, it's all the same?" A frown creases his pale brow, his full mouth twists. "Do you regret it?"
*
"In for a penny, in for a pound?" Laughing, Jean-Paul mirrors Sinjin's posture, finally dropping his feet back to the floor where they ought to be. "The mutant part, I had no choice. An old colleague with a grudge let that cat out of the bag. Fine." He gives an airy, dismissive wave with the hand he isn't resting his chin on.
He is thoughtful for a moment, the smile never leaving his face. "I suppose I thought… 'if they think they hate me now, wait until they hear this,' Jean-Paul murmurs in a low voice. "I have always had a competitive streak." Obviously. "I do not regret it, no."
*
"Good." Sinjin studies Jean-Paul's face, as though he can pick the truth or the future out of his features. "Are you all right?" That's purely sincere, curious without being wary. Maybe he needs to know the real answer — he's sure he won't get it, expects a laugh and a wave, but he asks anyway.
*
"Do I have a choice?"
There is no laugh, no wave. Jean-Paul just steadily meets Sinjin's gaze, unbothered by the scruitiny. If anything, the sincerity behind the question seems to have softened some of the rough corners off of his own expression. Some. Not all.
"In times such as these, and in a position like mine… where I am known, where I am a mistake to so many in places of authority… I do not think I have the luxury of not being all right," Jean-Paul says with a light shrug of one shoulder. "Not publicly."
*
"I understand that." Sinjin manages a wan smile, or something like it, then he takes a drag from his cigarette. He's not all right himself but what's he going to do about it? "The show must go on and all that. At a certain point, you just keep performing until the rest of your catches up or forgets that there's any other way to do things, don't you?" He leans back in his seat, cigarette between his lips, and rakes both hands through his hair. Someone punched him in the side of the head, possibly with a cinderblock, some time in the last week. "C'est la vie, is that how you say it?"
*
There is nothing quite like French being spoken in an Australian accent to make a man from Montreal grimace, but at least the grimace comes with a laugh. "Something like that," Jean-Paul muses, and while Sinjin leans back, he stays leant forward with his chin propped up in a hand.
It doesn't stop him from noticing the damage, but he doesn't mention it, either. Not yet, at least. "I am sure I will figure out what to do with myself eventually. I am in no rush."
*
The elevator dings and off steps none other than the actress known as Trish Walker. "Oh…oh dear. Have I arrived too early? I knew I should've asked the driver to go around the block a time or two." She frowns a little bit, smoothing out her dress as she steps further in, looking around. Yes, it is rather empty in the restaurant. "Oh frumple pumpkins." She murmurs softly.
*
"Miss Walker!" Louis likes one person in the world, apparently. Perhaps because the chef, Pierre, is such a fan. The little waiter all but flies to her side. "Bonjour, oui, it is early, but not for you. Your young man, M'sieur Allerdyce, has been working for some hours now. Will you be in the movie about his next book also?" He gestures for her to come with him.
"Pierre is so curious, he asks all the time. M'sieur has company, madamoiselle. A M'sieur Beaubier." That last is announced with considerable distaste. A French-Canadian. A mutant. A homosexual. And a scandal in the papers. This is not good, but Louis must bear it for the sake of La Caravelle.
"Trish!" Louis isn't the only one who lights up. Sinjin's smile is bright, he pushes himself to his feet, ignoring the twinges, and heads her way. "This is a great surprise. I wasn't expecting you."
*
At least M'sieur Beaubier is appropriately dressed for the venue. Were it not for the pointed ears his hair doesn't entirely obscured, he would probably fit right in.
When Sinjin gets to his feet and heads Trish's way, Jean-Paul's eyes follow him for a moment before, slowly, begrudgingly, he shifts to stand. What a bother, he had just gotten truly comfortable.
Hands loosely clasped behind his back, Jean-Paul remains next to the table, but he does at least offer a polite smile Trish's way.
*
"Ah, Louis. So good to see you." Trish smiles at the man. "You're much to kind to me here. Always have been." She tilts her head. "John is here? Oh! How lovely!" She follows him into the dining room toward the table. Her heels clickity-clack softly against the floor, her fancy dress flows nicely.
"John!" She gives him a little kiss on the cheek. "Thank you Louis, that shall be all for now. I'll call you when I'm ready to eat." She digs through her purse and pulls out a twenty dollar bill and hands it to him. Turning back to the table, she smiles to Jean-Paul. "And this must be Mister Beaubier. A pleasure." She holds out her hand toward him.
*
Her scurrilous companion is not dressed for La Caravelle, but he is a long-haired writer who lived in the jungle for years and who gets nearly-assassinated from time to time — as far as the staff here are concerned — and so they tolerate his neat, all-black attire and the lack of a tie with the aplomb of those used to dealing with foreigners of all types.
Sinjin was not raised in the jungle, so he pulls Trish's chair out for her. His typewriter is on the table, along with tea and coffee, fresh croissants and cheese and fruit. Obviously, he was working, as Louis noted, before his guest arrived.
"Jean-Paul, Trish," he offers. "Trish, Jean-Paul. Glad you get a chance to meet each other," he says quite sincerely. If anyone is accepting and kind to those who might otherwise be shunned, it's Trish.
*
The smile on Jean-Paul's face warms a touch when Trish offers a hand, and he does not miss a beat. He accepts it and, in a practiced motion, brings it up so that he might brush a kiss against the back. He wasn't raised in the jungle, either. "Enchant?. John has spoken highly of you," he notes lightly, releasing her hand.
He's even polite enough to remain standing until Trish has taken a seat. Then Jean-Paul will reclaim his own seat at the table, his eyes flicking between the pair with unhidden curiosity.
*
Taking her seat, Trish smiles. "Oh, I'm sure John probably spoke too well of me. But I shall attempt to live up to his high praise." She glances toward Sinjin, a coy smile tugging at her lips. "It really is quite an honour to be able to meet you, Mr. Beaubier. I had no idea that you were here, but it is a pleasant surprise, none-the-less."
She looks between Jean-Paul and Sinjin. "Have you two known each other long? I might find myself slightly annoyed if you knew Jean-Paul Beaubier and you didn't tell me, John!" She says, giggling softly.
*
"Minutes," John says, smiling at her affectionately. "Mere minutes. I was going to tell you as soon as I saw you again. I would never keep anything that important from you," he adds, reaching for her hand. "I've never seen you annoyed with me and I'm not in a hurry to start.
That might actually be a little unnerving, to have the world's sweetest person annoyed with him."
*
The look of disbelief that Jean-Paul levels on Sinjin is probably pretty comedic. An honor. To meet him. He'd have believed that a week ago, sure, but now?
Either Sinjin was not the only one to have received a blow to the head, or Trish really was just that kind.
"We have known one another for about one cup of coffee," Jean-Paul confirms, gesturing towards his empty mug and flashing Trish a reassuring smile. "You should not let Louis hear you speaking so highly of me. I enjoy hearing it, but I worry for the man's heart."
*
"Well, I suppose I can't be annoyed by that. Minutes, a cup of coffee." Trish smiles and nods. A flash of concern crosses her face, however, as she looks to Jean-Paul. "I was so sorry to hear about all the fall out you had to deal with because of…everything. It's just so unfair! They shouldn't treat you poorly for who you are! For how you were born!" She clears her throat and blushes. "I…I'm terribly sorry. This is probably the last thing you wish to discuss at the moment." She murmurs, looking down at the table.
*
Sinjin just gives Jean-Paul an "I told you she was perfect" look. The look he gives Trish, though, is adoring. Not mawkish or sentimental — he just thinks that well of her. She's wonderful.
*
"Oh, nonsense. I have always enjoyed talking about myself — why should this be any different?" Jean-Paul asks with a laugh, leaning back in his chair and draping one arm over the back. "It is fine. It provides its own opportunities, I suppose," he muses thoughtfully, letting his eyes slide over to Sinjin.
The look on the other man's face makes Jean-Paul snort, amused.
*
Trish says, "Well, I suppose that's one way to look at it, yes." Trish nods. "Opportunities. When they knock, you just gotta answer, right?" She smiles again, timidly. "And hey, if you want to be in a movie or have a little guest part on a TV show? I could probably try to pull a few strings? I know people." She shrugs a little. "Nobody should be left behind because of the poor judgement of others!"
Glancing between Sinjin and Jean-Paul, she furrows her brow. "Did I miss something?"
*
"I think he's appalled with me. It's one thing to write romances, another thing to act as though you might be in one," Sinjin says dryly. He takes Trish's hand and gives it a little squeeze. "I don't mind. I've made a fool of myself for worse causes." He shrugs at Jean-Paul, then smiles at Trish. "Never for a better one, though."
*
"That is one way to put it," Jean-Paul says in a low, amused voice, continuing to just peer towards Sinjin. Is one cup of coffee sufficient time for an inside joke? Because that's the air that he is giving off.
But perhaps poor John's not been let in on it, either.
His eyes return to Trish before long, though, and Jean-Paul flashes her another brilliant smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I would feel terrible if you damaged your career on my account. You do not know me nearly well enough for that. Besides," he adds, with a brief glance towards Sinjin, "I am a terrible actor."
*
"Oh…well…okay then." Trish nods in understanding. Or what she thinks is understanding. "There's certainly nothing wrong with romance. Unless, of course, you speak to my sister. In which case, romance is quite overrated and not worth anybody's time." She grins, chuckling softly. "But my sister and I differ on a few issues, so it makes sense that we don't feel the same way about romance."
She offers another nod to Jean-Paul. "Well, the offer is always open, should you change your mind." Tilting her head, glances between the two men. "Would either of you care for something more substantial? Brunch food is delicious, but I'm sure I could convince the kitchen to make us some more food?"
*
"I'd love to have lunch with you," Sinjin says to Trish. "And, you, if you'd like to stay," he offers to Jean-Paul. He's not sure Jean-Paul will accept, though. Still, he leans back and gestures to Louis to come clear the table and prepare for something more.
"Miss Walker would like something more from the kitchen."
*
"Perhaps I should meet your sister sometime. It sounds like we would get along famously." For a few heartbeats, Jean-Paul studies the pair — an eternity for a speedster, and barely any time at all for anyone else — before he shakes his head and smoothly rises to his feet.
"I have imposed long enough, I think. There is nothing worse than becoming a third wheel," Jean-Paul says with a lopsided smile, already stepping back from the table. "It was a pleasure meeting you both. And you," he adds, pointing towards John as his other hand comes up to cover where the business card is hidden within his jacket. "I will call. An interview might prove illuminating."
He even shoots Louis a grin before he turns to make his way out, waving over his shoulder. "Enjoy your lunch. I will be seeing you."
*
Standing as Jean-Paul moves to leave, Trish smiles. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I do so hope I get the chance again!" She tells him. Taking her seat once more, she looks to Sinjin. "How are you doing, John?" She looks concerned. "How's everything healing up? Okay?"
*
Sinjin follows suit, standing to say goodbye to Jean-Paul as Louis scurries around them with renewed energy now that the interloper has departed. When he settles down again, he gives Trish a smile.
"Stayed out of trouble so far. I'm actually helping your sister on a case — not that she wanted my help, just that I could be of help and didn't let her say no. But we do need to talk," he adds, with a little frown. "Not immediately, though. Just before you leave. Tell me how you are?"
*
"My sister isn't the type to just…accept help." Trish says, frowning a little as well. "We need to talk? What about? If it's something important, we should talk about it sooner rather than later, shouldn't we?" When Louis comes around, she asks for her usual food, and looks to Sinjin to see if he orders anything. She remains quiet until a decision is made one way or another.
*
Sinjin annoys Louis as usual by asking for something completely mundane like Eggs Benedict. How is Pierre supposed to shine if the man insists on ordering such ordinary food? At least Pierre will be allowed to deploy the truffles. Louis departs with a little flounce.
"The person, or thing, Jessica is investigating, that's the thing that I told you about the other night." Sinjin reaches for her hands. "That's also the thing that knew to paint her office purple. It reads minds and it's retaliating directly against people who investigate it. That means Jessica. And now it means me. The one thing that's important to both of us is you. Nothing would hurt us more than for you to be a target."
*
Taking his hands in hers, Trish squeezes them tightly. "John." She says in a quiet voice. "Come what may, we will fight together, you, me, and Jessica. We will weather any storm." She smiles softly, tilting her head. "Whatever, whoever, this is? Well, they can't scare me." Or maybe she's just putting on a strong front, which is very likely. "What matters to me is that the people I care about are okay. And if they're not? It just means I'm gonna have to fight harder. I'm going to have to find whoever this is, and give them a piece of my mind!"
*
"I know you want to, but a piece of your mind is exactly what I'm scared they'll take," Sinjin says. "And they seem to have the police on a string as well. The young woman who found her way to Jessica's office, the one who died? She was their work. I've been investigating them and, on Monday, an article is going to run in the Bulletin that will cover everything I've found out so far. Hopefully that will flush them out for Jessica and David and the rest of that team will be able to move on them. Jessica…Jessica and I want you to be somewhere safe when that article drops." His expression says that he knows he's probably in for a fight about this.
*
"This…this is…" Trish takes a deep breath in and sighs. "I can't just stand by and watch while somebody tries to hurt the people I care about! I can't and I won't!" She crosses her arms. "I won't go into hiding. No. If whoever this is decides they want to come after me? I say we let them come! We can't just hide me away and hope for the best. We're going to let them come to me, and then you and Jessica are going to capture them. That's exactly what's going to happen."
*
Sinjin is really not remotely surprised. "Well, that's probably not what's going to happen, Trish. Because this scheme looks pretty big and Jessica and I have barely managed to get out of that one scrape with our brains still between our ears. They might kidnap you, we might go mad trying to get to you…" He exhales slowly and leans back in his seat, running his fingers through his hair.
"On the other hand, I get it. You don't want to be tucked away for safe-keeping like some china doll. You have every right to decide what happens to you. And you know I am all for you learning to fight and learning to keep up with us." Sinjin looks at his hands, thinking, then looks at Trish again. "Your sister will kill me if I put you at risk. It will kill her if she puts you at risk. And Jessica, she wasn't drinking when I went to see her. Closed bottle of liquor on her desk. I think she's trying. This is not me trying to push you aside — this is me telling you that I don't think you're ready, You will be someday, but not now. I know that. Sometimes the best thing you can do is make sure the people who love you can do their work without being afraid for you."
*
"Who said anything about me fighting? I said to use me to capture this person!" Trish leans back. "'Courage consists not in hazarding without fear, but being resolutely minded in a just cause.'" She mutters softly, more to herself. "I will handle Jessica. She'll understand that I'm just trying to help." Though she does seem somewhat unsure in that. "I can't stand by while those I care about get hurt and I do nothing."
*
"You need to be able to take care of yourself in case we fail, even if that was a plan we could use," Sinjin explains. "We might lose, Trish. And if we did, we'd need you to be able to protect yourself as best you can. But. That said. We can talk to Jessica if you insist." Yes, he will go into the lion's den with her.
"I know you don't want just to do nothing here." Sinjin runs his hands over his face. "And I'd be a hypocrite if I told you not to take risks. When my father died, I couldn't do nothing either. I had nothing. I managed to get the money for a camera and a typewriter and a plane ticket and went off to work the heroin trade in Korea, just to try understanding him and how it all happened, how he died. But I will say this: it was just me, Trish. No one would have suffered if I'd died."
*
"But this is why you and Jessica would be nearby. That's what I'm trying to say! I wouldn't be all by myself. I'm not planning on dying. I'm planning on having you two capture this person!" Trish says, raising an eyebrow. "It's not like I'm telling you to just let me do my own thing here. I'm saying that we should work together to get whoever this is!"
*
"I'm just scared, Trish," Sinjin says honestly. "I don't want you to have things happen to you like they happened to me. That's all. I'm pretty sure that's what Jessica thinks, too. She doesn't want us to ruin you, but I don't think the best part of you can be ruined. You could be hurt, though. I'm not used to having someone to feel like this about. Ever. I still want you to have a safe place to go." He holds up a hand. "I'm not saying you have to go. I'm saying I want you to pick it and not tell me. I have a proposal, okay?"
*
"Jessica, more than anyone else, knows what I've lived through. The…the…what that woman that was supposed to be my mother forced me to live through." Trish murmurs quietly. "If I was going to be ruined, it would have been by her. It would have already have happened. If we can stop someone from hurting others, I don't care how we do it, we're stopping them. If I get hurt, I can recover. As long as it stops them from hurting more people. That's all I care about."
*
"Trish." Sinjin holds his hand out to her. "I hear you. I still want you to have a safe place to go, just in case. I know you want this. I'll share what I've found out with you, okay? I'd rather help you do this than have you shut me out. I feel like we're just getting going. So I want to share what I know with you. I want you to judge for yourself where you can help and what you can do. And…Jessica can hate me for it. You obviously want this more than I ever did."
*
"I never said I wanted to do this without you! Or Jessica! I want both of you involved!" Trish says softly. "I just want to be able to help so that we can get this person, that's all!" I smile. "Let's get them and then we won't have to worry about them hurting any of us ever again, yeah?"
*
"I have a bad feeling," Sinjin says, after Louis delivers their food with a remarkable bustle and fuss, and refreshes their coffee, and foists champagne and orange juice on them in a flurry of French persistence. "That if I somehow managed to put you off, you'd go out and try to do it yourself some day. Am I right?"
*
"I wouldn't want to, but there's a good chance." Trish says, nodding sadly. "Better that something like this is done with others, than done alone." She takes a sip of her newly arrived coffee and shrugs. "If you're going to do something, you might as well do it right, right?"
*
"So, you want to come with me to the gym tomorrow?" Sinjin offers. "We can go over my research afterward. I'd love to get your opinion on the article I'm writing. You can even come with me when I meet one of my informants. People might as well get used to you coming around, if we're going to do this thing."
This could be his last meal, any meal between now and when Jessica gets hold him might be. He's going to enjoy it. And, truth is, he's going to enjoy doing this with Trish. He's never worked with anyone before, not really.
*
"Sounds like a plan to me. Now, I should warn you, I've trained in gymnastics. In fact, I still do them. If I beat you at working out on the pommel horse, you've been warned!" Trish gives John a wide grin. "I'd love to give you my opinion on the article as well! And meet your informant! It's settled then." She starts in on her food as she says that. "Tomorrow then. A day full of excitement." And now to focus on her food and not worry what Jessica will say.
*
"I've never looked forward to getting my ass handed to me but there's a first time for everything," Sinjin says, laughing. "I can't wait to see what you can do." If they survive Jessica, the two of them can probably take on whatever the forces of evil throw their way.