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Remy's bare ass is parading around Jess's apartment as he makes coffee. Of course there's a cigarette in his mouth, as there usually is, but this is how he sleeps and is his normal routine. At his apartment, that he shares with Ava, there is a robe. There is no robe for him here.
If they were in New Orleans, he'd go for beignets. He still hasn't found a good one in this town.
*
A sharp whistle emits from the entrance to the kitchen and Jessica's eyebrows lift as her eyes trail to the coffee pot. "You should probably put something on. Enough people have keys." Jones slips back to the cupboard for two coffee cups which are set on the counter. She turns on her heel, treads towards Remy, an reaches up to pluck the cigarette from his lips.
She takes a few puffs of her own before returning it to him with the sweetest smile she can muster. Once more she turns, this time to nab the bottle of whiskey she'd left there yesterday. With a vague shake of her head, she pops off the lid and walks it to the sink.
*
"Fair point. But I ain't got nuffin' no one else don' got. 'magine whoever come t'ru dey seen em before." There's a grin as she plucks the cigarette from his mouth. "We gun work t'day, or we gun play?"
*
"Maybe I'm the jealous type," she offers wryly, but the twinkle in Jessica's eyes is unmissable. She really doesn't care. The bottle is lifted in the air as a kind of cheers and Jessica inhales a slow deep breath before slowly allowing the fluid to glug glug glug into the sink. "Bit of column A," she peeks over her shoulder at him, "bit of column B." Her smile extends.
The bottle, after several beats, is empty in its entirety, earning a gruff sigh.
*
Remy pulls the cigarette from his mouth and leans in to give her a strong kiss upon her lips. When he pulls away he gives her another peck on the head where her hair meets her skin to the side of her ear as he begins to shuffle off. "It be worth it, chere. Y'dun need dat shit. Not now."
*
The kiss is rather passionately returned, and Jessica's eyes lid lightly at the contact. Her shoulders tighten considerably, as she swallows around the growing lump in her throat. The empty bottle is abandoned to the counter. Her chin lifts slightly and she squares a look at Remy, "Why not now?" The smirk that follows is more telling than the words, and she grasps for an older copy of the paper on the counter. Her fingers drum absently against it.%
*
"Jus mean dat if you wanna take a drink someday when we're sittin' on de beach after you done licked dis problem, den I ain't gun stop ya," Remy calls out before returning with a pair of underpants and a white t-shirt on. "As for now, tinkin' maybe we both jus' put de sauce down for a bit."
*
"In the French Riviera, where I will still drink whiskey instead of wine because I'm pretty sure wine is just grape juice with piss in it," ever the charmer, Jessica Jones. She nods lightly, "Agreed." her head tilts to the side and her lips curve up at the edges like a cat that caught the canary. "Besides," she closes the distance between them and rests a hand on Remy's shoulder. "I can think of other ways we can have fun." She shrugs innocently, but it doesn't actually come off as innocent.
"While I was off," on her bender, "started to look through the paper and the bar crowd. You hear anything about this Vigor stuff?"
*
When she rests her hand on his shoulder, Remy wraps an arm around her and begins kissing her neck. "Hear' a little bit of it. Some drug dat simulates mutant gene? Or do I have dat confused."
*
"Mmmm," Jessica's reply comes as she's momentarily distracted by the contact. Her fingers grasp his shoulder tighter. "That's the one." She hums again. Softer this time, "Gives unpowered people powers. Gives powered folks a…" her words breathily escape "…boost." She clears her throat. "Appeared and seems to cooincide with missing teens."
*
Remy stops abruptly. "You meanin' like mebbe our missin' teens?" His memory is fuzzy—Jess and him have been so on again and off again he has learned and relearned information about this and other cases but it is still so fuzzy.
*
Jessica's gaze darkens. Her chin drops into a nod of sorts. She emits an audible breath. "Teens show up with missing fingernails. Skin. Like they've been tortured. But what if they aren't being tortured. What if, like David suggested so long ago, they're being harvested?" Her gaze remains trained on Remy. "And it's big. It's so big. We missed pieces. It's not just Hell's Kitchen — these teens are missing across the city.
"
*
Remy nods and reaches to grasp her hand and give it a squeeze. "Aiight. It's bad. We dun knew it was bad. De question dat keep comin' up is where we be goin' from here, chere."
*
"We need…" Jessica's voice drops, "…a lead. To a dealer. We need to go up the supply chain. The low level thugs are going to know nothing. But they an lead us to the bigger fish." She sucks on the inside of her cheek. "There's this guy down the hall. I think he'd be able to get us that first hook."
She returns the squeeze to her hand, and there's something oddly reassuring at the contact. "We could talk to him, see if he can get us to his dealer, and we can get leads from there. It's the next logical place shy of getting caught."
*
Remy nods and takes a deep breath with a sigh release. "We should go. Now. Ah'll grab my pants."
*
A vague nod follows the words, but there's a pause. "It's still early. And he's a junkie. Chances are he's not home yet." A flicker of a smile follows that. Jessica tugs the bottom of her shirt and draws it over her head. "I'm sober. You're sober. I want you. You won't need your pants." She trails out of the kitchen.
*
"Well, far be'it fo' me t'ever preven' a gal from gettin' what she be wantin'," Remy says with a shrug of his shoulders. He looks for an ashtray, finds one, and delicately puts it out among the great pile of the other butts.