1964-04-03 - Goin' to the Chapel...But first!
Summary: Remy and Jess head to the Clerk's office to get a marriage license. Should be smooth sailin', right?
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
jessica gambit 


Remy Le Beau walks up to the Clerk's office in Manhattan, dressed as if he's just rolled out of bed. White shirt, ratty pair of blue jeans, and the smell of cigarettes flow around for a trifecta of assaults to the senses. His hair is a mess and he could use a shave.

He's looking to get a marriage license. "Dunno why we ain't b'able t'do dis by mail, no?" he says to his soon to be bride.

*

The would-be bride doesn't look much more polished than the groom-to-be. Black slacks. Her black leather jacket. At least her hair is brushed. Jessica's head turns to peer at Remy curiously, "Probably to make sure we actually want it." Pause. "Or something. Mailing something out seems surreal."

*

"Don't be gettin' no col' feet now, woman," Remy says with a smile as he opens the office door for her. Inside, it's a simple office of a newer style. By newer I mean the 1940s and 1950s with its simplicity and aquagreen filing cabinets and perfect white ceiling tile.

"Can I help you?" a plump woman says behind the counter with a thousand watt smile and the kind of face that makes you want to trust her. Well, maybe not you, Jessica, but I do.

*

Jessica trusts virtually no one. Her eyes narrow into small slits and her head shakes slightly. She studies the woman a few beats and, in the most even tone she can manage, offers blandly, "We're here for a marriage license." It's possible she's keeping her tone even to avoid any over-the-top congratulations.

*

"Oh, of course!" the clerk says with some exuberance as she busies herself underneath the desk to pull out the proper paperwork. "I'll need a driver's license or proof of identity of some sort. After filing the proper paperwork, you'll get your license in about a week." Her eyes sparkle at the pair, but she seems to get the woman's apprehension and doesn't pry.

*

Jessica's eyebrows lift. "Right," she reaches into her wallet and extracts two pieces of id. The first, her private detective's license. The second, her actual driver's license. She sets both on the table in front of the woman and she nods. And then, as a kind of Trish-inspired-afterthought, she deadpans: "Thanks."

*

"No problem, miss." The clerk then leaves the pair to themselves just as Remy steps up and gives her his driver's license. "Lesse bout where dey want us to sign our freedom away," he says with a grin as he begins to fill out the paperwork. His handwriting is atrocious, but given his background it's surprising he can even read and write, really.

*

Jessica's eyes narrow at Remy as he begins to fill out the paperwork. Her head cants towards him, "Was it this much paperwork last time?" Her eyebrows lift expectantly, but then she eyes some of the papers in turn. "I can write," she suggests, although it doesn't have the inviting nature that the words might typically offer.

*

"Ah'll do it," Remy says with a chuckle. "Back in de south dey don't really put up much a fuss, really." The Cajun gets to the part when it talks about previous marriages and, inside, a bit of sadness hits him. Not for Belle. A great woman to be sure but it's been a long time since he's loved her. Well, not romantically for Belle anyways. He's been so worried about Jessica he wonders if he had thought of her properly.

He zips through that part and begins to sign his name in a large, overarching way as if he were some business magnate, successful doctor, or maybe just some cajun with a huge ego.

*

Jessica's smirks at the notion of the south. "It's like another world. The rules are different. For some consideration." Her lips purse lightly and she scans the room, silently considering each of the figures and the office's procedure. She watches him sign and steps over. Her signature lacks Remy's flourish. Plain. Not-girly. Not that legible. There's probably an analogy in there somewhere.

*

"Sho'is," Remy replies ominously as he slides the piece of paper towards where the clerk was standing earlier. He turns to lean against the front desk with his elbows and back as he looks with her and smiles. "Should go an' celebrate after this, n'est-ce que pas? G'out and get somethin' good t'eat."

*

Jessica watches the paper cross the counter, trailing it as it moves. With a vague smirk she hums. "I eat," she replies with a faint curve of her lips. She chuckles and then nods, "That'd be good. We could get pizza? Or Chinese," her nose wrinkles. "Chinatown is on the way home."

*

"Chinese'd be good. Any'ting'd be good t'be sure," Remy replies as he straightens. He grabs her belt loops with his hooked fingers and stares at her from behind his sunglasses. "Gunna do de best I can, chere. Promise you dat."

*

The movement draws her closer to him, prompting Jessica to smile slightly with the faintest upwards edging of her lips. "Just not a hotdog from the corner. I'm pretty sure those contain no actual meat." Her eyebrows lift at the lat and her head cants to the head, "Best with dinner or," her eyes trail back to the application, "that?" Her lips hitch up higher on one side. "It change anything?"

*

"Wit dat," Remy says tilting his head. "Dun change nuthin' otha den wantin' t'make sure I treat ya good." He plants a chaste one on her quickly as the Clerk approaches. "We should get the approval form and the license after we have gotten confirmation. Hopefully in a week. At the most two," she says with a smile. "The fee is 2 dollars." Remy reaches for his pocket which is, of course, bulging with cash and pays it. "T'ank you very much, madame," he says.

*

"Didn't want to treat me good before the fancy piece of paper?" Jessica quirks a curious eyebrow, but there's a comical lilt to her voice. She peers at the exchange of money and nods once. "Yeah, thanks." As per usual, she's just a stitch flat. But she's smiling. A bit. SO that counts for something.

*

As Remy turns to go he holds out his arm for Jessica to take as he gets ready to leave. "Well, not sure it'd be appropriate t'tell how I wanted t'treat ya, talkin in a professional place such as dis. Imagine you can imagine." He smiles back at her, leading her out of the office.

*

It's a rare occasion to see Jessica's cheeks warm, but for once in a long stretch, red finds its way into her countenance. She hums softly as she's ushered out of the office. "And here I thought you meant in some other fashion." She reaches for his hand. She's not much for holding hands in general. Evidently today is an exception.

*

Not long after the pair leave and are, presumably, in some sort of chinese restaurant drinking exotic beer and eating eggrolls, the Clerk is able to get to the application that Remy and Jessica put in. She finds the information on the form and decides to give a ring to the New Orleans Parish offices. She waits on hold because it is the lunch hour in the central time zone, and because she doesn't have much else to do.

She finally gets a hold of her clerk counterpart who, aside from the southern drawl, could probably be mistaken for the yankee clerk's sister.

"What do you mean he's already married?" says the shocked woman. This actually hasn't happened before. "On this form it clearly states that he and someone named Belladonna were divorced back in '61."

"I see."

"I see."

"Well thank you for your time."

That neat application gets readied by her left hand while a red stamp marked with DENIED is wielded in her right.

TO BE CONTINUED

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