Jacque laughed, not meeting Rory’s eyes. “Fair enough, fair enough. I didn’t mean disrespect though, I even like the outfit. William Wallace or James Joyce right? Or whatever I’m not going to put my foot any farther down my mouth.”
Wait isn’t James Joyce Irish? Damn.
He gestured to the bar, “I feel like a complete connasse right now.” He gave another nervous laugh, “Would you permit me to buy you a drink? Whatever you want, my way of saying I’m sorry.”
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"Would I permit?"
Rory gave a laugh and shook his head at Jack. "Oh, I insist. For my friend here, too," he added, jacking a thumb in Tom's direction.
He held out a hand for a shake. "I'm Rory."
Maybe the guy wasn't that bad, having a crappy sense of humor wasn't a crime.
In a manner that suggested she was feeling far more languid than she had before entering the bar, Harlowe gave a small shrug. "Y'sure you didn't accidentally step into a sex shop, done up for Halloween like?" she asked, tone suggesting she was just joking and not purposely trying to make fun of Daysha. Gesturing to her own clothes, she gave a ghost of a grin. "'Cause seriously, this damned cowgirl outfit looks like it came from a dubious fuckin' store, too."
There was no hope for decent Halloween costumes for any female above eighteen obviously - she was sure the guys must get it just as bad.
"I guess we just head out and go for the old shock 'n' awe tactic, regardless of who's outside. I haven't played Poker in...well, it's been a while. Maybe a little distraction'll even my odds."
Daysha turned to Harlowe and put her hand up. “I swear. I haven’t been in those stories in.” She cut herself off. “Uh yeah… anyway.” She shook her head. “Ya know, what’s even more sad is they charge us more for less material used.”
The two women began walking out of the bathroom. The detective’s eyes went wide. Oh son of a bitch. She walked over and stuffed her bag behind the bar out of the Old Man’s way. This is going to be a long fucking night.
With a weary look on her face, she pulled the costume down. Then she adjusted the hat, and pulled the costume down again. Then pulled it together in the chest area. She walked over to where Derevko and Rory were.
“Hey Rory.” Giving her friend a weary half smile. As she looked him over she glanced down at his plaid attire. “A kilt hm? Is that a family heirloom?” She asked him sincerely. Is this what guys think when women wear skirts? Woah, stop.
Noticing Derevko showed up, she glanced at him. “Hey, Derevko. How’s it going?”
The Old Man eyed Jack suspiciously- the guy caused far too much trouble to be trusted. He'd been punched by two people already. How many more were gonna hit him before the Old Man had to shoot him to keep things quiet?
"Punch is free," he grunted at Rory, wondering why in the Hell both of the men he'd seen before had turned up wearing something better suited to the set of Braveheart, just in degrees of formality.
Derevko's eyes flickered sideways as the two women emerged from the ladies' bathroom. For a moment, he thought he'd come to the wrong bar. He hadn't expected to see strippers. Hell, maybe the Spiral was-
Observation kicked in once he'd stopped thinking with the brain of a divorced, single guy, and he noticed that one woman's forearms were covered in ink. Not the usual boring crap either- fish, or those weird sleeves. He'd seen ink like that before, in the cops who'd come there after serving in the Armed Forces. Well, that explained the insane muscle tone. The way she carried herself.
And the other one was Daysha.
Aw fuck, I just thought Jackson was a Goddamn stripper.
"Jackson. Nice to see you again," the scarred Agent ground out, folding his arms across his chest, his amazingly tanned and furry outfit clearly designed for someone who's flesh didn't look like it had been flayed off with barbed wire and knitted back together. "Army buddy?" Or cowgirl lover... hm.
Harlowe had less reason to be embarrassed by her attire than Daysha. Not because it looked any better, because God it felt like she should be turning fucking tricks in this get-up, but because she had less of a clue who the others were. It was hard to give a shit in front of people who didn't know her from Adam.
She folded her arms across her chest, her expression daring any unfavourable reply. Even so, her dark gaze assessed the two men in front of them. "Huh. 'Spose, we should feel a little fucking better. Some guys do have bad choices in Halloween costumes, too," the ex-soldier commented to Daysha.
She extended a hand to Derevko. "Harlowe," she introduced. "Nice...fur?"
"Yeah, uh, Rory nice to meet you. Ah my name is, uh, Ja-ck." He said awkwardly, having to make a deliberate effort to enunciate through his accent. "Anyways, uh, yeah punch, that's cool, uh, thank you."
Jacque glanced at the commotion that was happening behind him.
what the fuck
"I-uh-you detective and Harlowe, you guys, uh look... so uh, h-h-obbies..." He ran his hand through his hair, letting the it sink in that the two biggest hard-asses he knew were dressed as prostitutes. Suddenly his mind clicked, "Wait, Rory you know detective Jackson?"
"Oh, no punch for me thanks. But if you could see fit to refresh my glass that would be fine by me", comments Tom as he raises his glass upside down and gives it a shake, a salesman grin on his face. "Same as the last if you please, may want to have another one on standby for me as well, think I may need it before the night it out", he says half to himself, setting the glass down and fishing out his wallet from his back pocket and sorting through his bills, selecting what seemed like the right amount of money and placing the thick leather wallet back were it belonged.
At this rate he wasn't going to be much good at the poker game, but then again their was some beauty in the logic. If he spent his money on booze then he couldn't loose it at the poker table.
You don't have to confess you dressed as a hooker for Halloween if it was for a holiday, right?
“It’s supposed to be Robin Hood. Well, the package says Robin Da Hood.” She rolls her eyes. Daysha snickered a little at Harlowe’s comment. “Where did that come from Derevko? Was Attila the Hun having a garage sale?” Quirking her lip for a second after her chide. “So, are you here for poker?”
She gave Rory the eye and a nod. Hopefully conveying, that’s the guy that I was telling you about.
I hope they know my gun is still on me. Although I’m not telling them where.
Glancing at the old man. "So what's in the green ominous punch?" She asked curiously. Not that she was into hazing, but she wondered what would happen if someone drank it.
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