Jack and the Firewoman

Nobody

[Mask, Mask, are you up to the task?]

Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 3, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 5 )

Nobody

All parks are dangerous after dark, even parks bordered by so much civilization, parks bordered by streets and lights and known for its community, for its statues commemorating children's poetry, its boathouse, its beauty; all parks are dangerous after dark, it's a two world sort of world.

On the one hand, men and women taking a stroll (Romantic) lost in complaining about Monday or discussing their latest song or their friends or their work, the occasional joggers wearing bright clothes their ipods at their hips like a sword earbuds in their ears like a shield the soles of their shoes flashing, fashing, and this is one world.

On the other hand, men and women meeting up there by the lake, gotta get that fix, gotta exchange that dirty cash for dirtier cash, gotta talk about deeds best left untalked about. On the other hand, men and women sleeping on this bench or that, camped out under that bush hoping the beat cop won't come by but they rarely come by that camp has been there a week now and nobody knows, Nobody knows, Nobody always knows.

Two worlds pressed flush against one another and here's Nobody in particular, looking at the water like he's going to fish for the moon in it. Nobody in particular, who is also Jack, the Jack of Nosferatu, the Jack of Many Faces, Detectiving Jack, Searching Jack, Jack the Questant, that Jack:

Tonight he is a pale and dark-haired man, wiry all over, corded sinews and no tattoos and lean as a rangy cat given human shape nothing but string to him he's too thin and what lean lean muscles are visible are too damned visible, so he's almost gaunt, a squint to his eyes and an air of harmlessness.

Alex Fisher

Everywhere Alex had turned tonight there had been to many people, to much noise, just to much of everything. For a monday night this was unusual, and more to the point annoying as hell.

So she'd wandered here, walking into a quiet corner of Washington Park looking for at least a little space, a little silence. She walks unhindered by the inherent danger of such a place, dressed in an over large motorcycle jacket. The thing is old and threadbare, but if the many patches and band logos told any kind of tale, it had been a long and eventful life.

In the dark it is hard to tell what lay beneath the jacket given its size on the woman, the occasional flash of green from beneath the jacket the only real hint as to what lay within. She strolled as she moved along, arms folded before her and her hair left loose about her face, hard blue eyes peering out from behind the brown hair.

She was headed for the garden...but first came the lake, the lake and a certain nobody who stood between her and her target. His gaze draws her own to the water, and after a brief stop, she continued forward, drawing closer to the man, perhaps curious to look in the water.

Nobody

The air of harmlessness could wear as thin as he is if he looked at Alex a certain way when she drew near, coat or no coat that covers her up. One of the worlds which lies upon Washington Park like a veil is full of the mad, the reckless, the unhinged and the unsettled, the settling forever in their foundations and too aware of it. Could he be such a one? There's no madness in his eyes when he looks at Alex. This isn't a darklit section of lakeside; there are lamps, glowing like a testament to man's ingenuity, that the night will not be unlit.

"Evening, ma'am," a touch of two fingers to his forehead. He sounds modest and polite, like a soldier. No twang to his voice, but tonight it is an easy on the ears tenor, higher of register than his natural voice is but no less adept at turning vinegar to honey and catching flies with either.

Is Alex a fly? Alex does not look like a fly. "You think that boathouse is ever open to the public," he continues, wistful and lonesome and not shy.

Alex Fisher

Ma'am, so many people still used that, and at the same time so many people hated it. Alex, well Alex didn't seem to care to much one way or another as she looked in the direction of the boat house.

"Not bloody likely, far as I know anything really fun is usually closed to anyone but those with a black card." She commented, her voice warm if perhaps a little tired. If she was worried about this man being dangerous or crazy she showed remarkable fortitude against it. Instead she came to a stop, placing her hands upon her hips as she turned towards the water briefly to look out over the water before turning slowly back to the man.

"Couldn't imagine boating around on this thing would be much anyways, you can practically wade your way across the whole thing." She said gesturing across.

"To shallow for much other then looking pretty."

Nobody

He looks from the dark lake and its dark boathouse and its suggestion of Monet-wavering lights, of little rills and mysteries, of a moon for swallowing; and he looks at Alex instead. Has Alex rubbed elbows with mysteries and darkness? Certainly she has. But it's not a thing gets on your sleeve and marks you easily. Jack's been marked, but he doesn't show what's up his sleeves.

He looks over at her and he smiles. The smile isn't exactly hesitant but it isn't exactly forthcoming, either. You wouldn't call it shy, but you wouldn't say it lights up a room. He doesn't show his teeth and if he does ever smile she'll see why. His teeth are a snaggle. This close, the scruff on his jaw is visible, fine downy stuff that doesn't quite match the rest. The wiry man is not a looker, that's for sure. All those bones.

Rattle him up and make him tell a fortune.

"That's a right interesting observation, ma'am. D'you mean to say you find the fun of it in the falling out and nearly getting drowned?" He still sounds wistful. "Myself I kind of like the lying on less than solid ground and lookin' up."

Alex Fisher

"I prefer whats under the surface, not whats on the top." She said as she reached up to push hair from her face, a breeze having picked up to pull at it and put it right in her face. "I like to fish, I also like to dive." She said looking out at the water once more. "All this just seems like a waste of water to me. Unless your looking to water the racoon's." She grins, toothless and tight, her eyes still hard in the light of the lamps. "Not that they fuckin mind."

She seemed like the sort who should smoke, like she should be fishing a pack of cigarette's out of her pocket right now and stuffing one between those wide lips, maybe even offering the man one. But no such action takes place, no such pack is produced. Instead she turns to look at the man and then the sky above, before asking the obvious question.

"So why lay on water?" She inquired. "Is it about feeling weightless? Or do you just like the movement?"

At last she fishes something from the depths of her pockets, but its not a smoke, no its a stick of spearmint gum which she unwraps from its silver casing and folds it into her mouth before looking back at the man, waiting.

Nobody

[Hmm. I am interested in you. Perception + Alertness. Little details, like are your fingers nicotine stained, do you have a huge colt hidden under that jacket or maybe a stake, a pedometer strapped to your wrist, are those new shoes, do you have a badge tucked away somewhere. Specialty Hidden Things, maybe?]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (3, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 6 )

Nobody

[In which case, 9 suxx, holy shit Jack?]

Alex Fisher

The jacket doesn't seem like its her's, its to big, to broad, it looks like it belonged to a guy, some of the patches were from concerts that were way to old for her to have attended, unless she had been a roady at the age of 3.

But it has a reason, and that reason becomes obvious to Jack as he takes in the way she stands, she has no weapons, no gun, no taser, not even a can of mace...what she has, is raw strength, the way she stands, the way her arms rest against her body...theres to much muscle there, carefully packed and toned, but its impressive...he might imagine she could bench with the best of them.

Theres a bulge in the coat, but it just looks like a wallet, her nails are short, no nonsense there, not even a coat of clear ontop. Her hands are also a little rough, not like a plumber of a construction worker, but definitely something where physical labour is involved. But she was quite obviously wearing a green thigh length dress beneath that over sized coat.

All in all, she might be a wolf in sheeps clothing...or she might just be the sort of women who doesn't care about appearances.

Nobody

[Hypothetical Flood Lie Roll.]

Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Nobody

[4 suxx I'm sure. MAYBE WP TOO.]

Nobody

"I think it must be the weightlessness, ma'am," he says, not quickly, but slow, like he first had to consider it close, turn the key in the lock. He's still looking at her, and Jacks are sharp-eyed, more sharp-eyed than they are clever sometimes, what details don't they see, what details are kept from them? Very few, and don't they want to know the ones they don't see, isn't it their duty to seek them out? He smiles at her again, still no teeth, but his whole face crinkles up, long wrinkles around his eyes and his mouth, thin-skinned, tight-skinned. When he's older, he'll have laughlines carved into him, but that hasn't happened yet -- or not much, not unless you look real close.

"Did you ever have those dreams of flying? I did, sure. But instead of flying I was just gliding along, just sort of letting the night breezes push me except it wasn't like I'd fall at any second. That's what the water is, some tension at your back, but you're still just drifting. With the boat sides up high, the rest of the world drops away, so it's just you looking up at the sky, just you and the sky forever..."

He ducks his head and runs his hands over his head. His knuckles are scarred up and he looks sheepish. "I guess I sound like a pansy. I like fishing too. And raccoons. Ain't never dived though."

Alex Fisher

"Yep." She says deadpan for a moment before offering him the smallest of smiles. "But at least you know what you like, and thats a hell of alot more then I can say for alot of people i know." She said as she shifted, almost like she might be about to punch him...but then she pulls up, stops short of going any further, this guy was still an unknown after all, weren't supposed to be too friendly now.

"You should give it a go, thats how they train astronauts after all, stuff'em in that big space suit and drop em in an underwater tank with some special chemical mix or something, makes them float more."

She offers that tidbit with a shrug as she chews on that stick of gum, crushing it behind those wide lips as she shifted her gaze between Nobody and the water. "Alex." She said after a long, thoughtful pause, offering it up carefully as if weighing wether it was the right thing to do.

"What's your name buddy? You from around here?" She gestured to the park. "Or elsewhere?"

Nobody

"Jack," he says. Jack's a common name. There are so many Jacks. He's so many Jacks himself, some nights, some fortnights, and Caine help the dayworld if he should ever forget to put on his face. "I sure didn't spring from this earth," and he toes the mud, the grass, the dandelions. The flowers in the flower garden are closing up, most of them; being dead but eternally filled with life anyway means you don't get to see flowers awake all that often. Not real ones in their natural habitat. "My people were back East and I just kinda wandered, ma'a - uh, Alex."

He'd shifted slightly when she shifted as if she was going to punch him, like somebody with a lot of brothers, somebody used to getting hit and taking it. He shifts back when she settles down in order to toe the mud the grass the dandelions all that.

"What about you? What do you do with yourself?" Pause; slow smile, spreads like water. "I mean you know what you like I guess? Besides diving and fishing."

Alex Fisher

"Oh this and that drink, play the drums badly, exercise and occasionally put out fires." She said casually as she let the coat fall open a little, letting the heat out and the cool evening air in. She settled herself in that moment, looking less prepared to spring away, less concerned with her immediate need to run. They were talking, talking like casual people who meet and decide its worth the time to do so...it meant things were ordinary.

"East huh?" she asked tilting her head towards the man. "New York? Definitely not Boston." She grinned. "I dont think you could burn that fucking accent out of a person with napalm." She chuckled, it was on the verge of a snort as she did so, the action short and sweet and over quickly.

"And what exactly do you do? Besides strike up conversations with random women in the park like some kinda eastern don juan?"

Nobody

"What kinda fires?" Jack wants to know. He doesn't like fire much; red fear, rötschrek, sends him screaming from buildings ablaze, makes his cavalier's soul cowardly. He knows it's a price, part and parcel, for this underworld existence, for being in the world that he's in. That's a different world than Alex's world. She probably believes in owls.

His head rears up and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, grinning pleased and shy at being called an eastern Don Juan, "What really? You think I'm kinda smooth? I gotta chance to hit on you without gettin' hit then?"

He doesn't answer the rest of her questions yet. He'll address them after that important point has been figured out, eh?

Alex Fisher

She raises a brow, her grin becoming wry as she looked like she might reel back and sock him one. Or at least that she was considering it. But then she snorts and shakes her head. "Yeah sure, go ahead. At least I walked into it, and you didn't start by call me sweet cheeks or some other utterly derogatory bullshit. Though I do reserve the option to punch at will, no negotiation."

She offers him a small slightly warmer smile as she leans back and for once, looks up at the stars.

"As to fires, you name it, propane, wood, big, small, toxic, accidental...doesn't fuckin matter what it is, I kill it." She said with a smirk. "I'm a firefighter....hope that didn't ruin your don juan."

Nobody

"You do? Guess that means you like me sorta?" Jack says. His eyes go all squinty when he smiles again, tension around them, a webwork of lines. His spine is curved now, falling into a bit of a slouch instead of the straight-backed dreamy consideration of moments before. His hands aren't in his pockets, but they're easy at his sides for all their scarred up scratched-up knuckles. Dare he even wink? Yes he dares.

His expression is both considering and impressed when Alex reveals that she's a real live female firefighter. He doesn't comment on how that isn't too common. He's seen the strength in her, noticed it. It's a new age.

Different from how it was once, but not so different underneath.

(You're never getting home again, Jack.)

"Me, I'm kinda living hand to mouth these days." He looks at his hands, lashes low on his cheeks. "But I find things and people, like. Done that as long as I known, but not everybody wantsta pay or they look at me and they want my uncle or something. Someone older you know. More flab."

He pats his too-thin stomach.

Nobody

[Oh no, not a wild noel-lurk! Runnnnn!]

Alex Fisher

[Trips Jack, runs on ahead]

noel-lurk

[*evil laugh*]

Alex Fisher

She rolled her eyes, but shes smiling gently as she does so, her hand curling into a fist as if to guage and judge wether it was worth giving Jack a shot to the arm before she lets it slide, snorting as she did so.

"You keep leading me into complimenting you and you are gonna get a swift shot to the shoulder, and with how skinny you are your shoulder might not survive it." She says in a warning tone that really held no real warning. Though those hard eyes remained so, ready if necessary.

"So a PI then huh? Also what the hell does being fat have to do with it, you had more flab on your ass would just mean you spend to much time sitting in a car peeping through windows. Lean means you could actually run someone down if you have too...not that I said you should or anything." She stops talking for a moment and brings the metal wrapper to her lips, spitting the glob of gum out before wrapping it up and stuffing it in one of the jackets pockets.

"Wrigglies, best damn flavour in the world....fades as fast as a drunk as boyfriend."

Nobody

He laughs at her assessment of lean v. flab for a private investigator. His laugh is as light as his voice and sounds like a rusty thing, something he's not used to giving over. This is the guy she met gazing at the lake like he wanted to find the moon in it, though; the guy who's dreaming about lying in a boat and feeling like maybe he can fly.

"Well thanks ma'am, ah, Alex, for your words of kindness. It's mostly not running anyone down... Gets to that point and I figure I did my job kinda poorly. Don't want the crooks to know I'm onto them, you know?"

He reaches into his pocket while she's wrapping that gum up and he pulls out a business card, which he offers Alex with a flourish. The card's only a little bent.

"Luckily water's always got a sorta beauty to it, don't it?" He's bringing the conversation back to where it began. "You wanna go for a night swim sometime? I'd appreciate not bein' crushed now 'cause I'm a coward, but you e-mail that e-mail or text that number anytime."

"How long you been a firefighter?"

Alex Fisher

"Damn, maybe you've got more balls then even i thought, recommending something like that." She commented as she flipped the card over twice between her fingers before jamming it into the pocket of her coat [not the one with the gum] and shrugged.

"Few years now, my official title is that of firefighter-medic, did the upgrade a year ago, currently working with the arson investigator to see if I've got the chops to make Arson." She pulled out another piece of wrigglies and went to stuff it in her mouth, pausing briefly to ask.

"You wanna piece?"

She holds the piece out to him then, almost like a child on a playground trying to pass it off as nothing, still partially in its silver wrapper.

Verna Gardner

Why might the small woman with a lot of things on her mind be joining the party looking out over the lake tonight? Well, Verna's not exactly joining. She gives the two ample space. She's not in the mood to go accost some random strangers who happen to have similar ideas about how to spend their time.

It's just that her days of jaunting off to 1Up or even eating out are well beyond her now. Going to the park and gazing out at the lake like it's hiding all the secrets in the world is at least a free activity.

So it goes when one is 'between jobs' as they say. She certainly doesn't look like she is living on ramen noodles, though. Once, she had enough for a decent wardrobe. And tonight, she's dressed how she'd normally have gone to work -- in black slacks and a jewel-toned turquoise button-down shirt that picks up the moonlight.

There's something that says the park isn't safe at night for women like her. Verna's always been a brave one though.

Nobody

The skinny rawbones and lank youngish man shrugs at the you've got more balls remark. A modest soldier of a boy, isn't he? His eyebrows are up, that air of impressed still present especially after she says her ambition is Arson Investigator. Hmm. He could use an Arson Investigator.

"Sure, thanks," he says, taking the stick of silver. A gift can mean something in the world he's part of, but given across worlds, day and night, does it mean much? Silver's a treasure, silver's a cup and a stone, silver's the color of his true love's bones where they lie in the dark. A gift. He doesn't unwrap it now, but instead gets his eyes snagged on an old beat-up wrist watch and says, "Oh, da- ..darn, ma'a- Alex. Looks like I gotta place to be. Daydreamed too long."

"You call me if you want and if you don't..." He's walking backwards away from the lake to address her, hands in his pockets now. "Well maybe you're makin' a mistake." He shrugs, exaggerated and cartoonish, sharp shoulders up palms too, "I don't know."

When he passes Verna, he gives the young woman a polite-as-heck (not Hell, 'coz Hell is not polite) nod, and then he's off and away with the fairies.

[ooc: and I need to flee for a couple hours so I write Jack out. You two have fun. *smooshes together*]