2011 06 30: Books & Beers

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Mission Name: Books & Beers
Date of Mission: June 30th, 2011
Locale: Crewe's Apartment - Greenwich Village

Hobbes makes a delivery to Crewe on his would-be lunch break.

Crewe Hobbes

Today is, as Jessica told herself this morning, too nice to go to work. Sun shining, a nice breeze blowing through, it's the perfect day to go Ferris Bueller all over everyone's ass. That's definitely the reason why Crewe is napping quite soundly on the couch in the living room, the TV on some inane talk show or something at low volume. Though she's asleep on the couch, the clothes and stuff that typically litter the thing are still there.

As fun as it would be for Jacob to kick down doors and go in guns-blazing, Rambo-style and all, he's left with just standing in front of Jessica's apartment and envision that little mental picture. The daydreaming doesn't last for too long. That's due to his shifting his weight back and forth in testing his right leg before leaning forward to knock on the door: once, twice, and after a short pause there's a third time before he steps back. In his offhand is a plastic bag.

In a moment's notice she's up from the couch and approaching the door, but not without a pistol filling her grip. When the multiple locks get unlatched and the door cracks open so she can peek out with the chains holding the door shut, she narrows her eyes. "Oh, it's you. Wasn't expecting you today. You're lucky I decided to check first," she says once she drops the chains and steps back to let him in…so he can see the gun tucked up against her back in her other hand.

Jacob raises both of his brows to the sound of locks being unlatched and displaced, leading into his arching one questioningly to the sight of a sliver of the woman from behind the cracked door. He leans slightly to the side in briefly smiling to her. "I like to keep you on your toes." That sounded better in his head, honestly. "And what would happen if you didn't check? Shoot first, ask a corpse questions later?" He chuckles dryly at the thought and begins to step forward, moving to step into the apartment and taking note of the gun. From looking to it, he looks back to her. He grins. "Nice model, but you sure a forty-five can even take out my ego alone?"

"I don't think a fucking Abrams main cannon can take out your ego, shit head. And what's that, a 105 or 120 or something? Bastards swapped from a rifled to a smoothbore between wars, I think." With a casual WHUNK she drops the heavy handgun onto her small dinette table, and disappears into the little kitchen. "Want something to drink? I have water…and Bud. Only the best around here," she informs, sarcastically at best.

"Probably not," he starts to say more before shaking his head and keeping quiet on the idea of countering her remarks. Jacob settles for a low, "One-twenty, but I have no idea on the specs they're looking to crank out with their new developments." He's no firearms aficionado when compared to Miss Crewe over yonder but he knows some things, good things, like, "I'll go with beer this time around if you don't mind. Reminds me, too, brought you some more books. I figured you'd be running dry on fresh material." He looks over his shoulder to the handgun but continues onwards. In the back of his mind, he's counting how many guns she could have out of view. In the meantime, he's setting the package of books on the couch on his way to joining her at the kitchen.

She's definitely no fancy-drunk, that's for sure. The home brew, all the way, even if her childhood was, you know, awful. There's a satisfying pop and hiss as she cracks open two of them, and expertly slides one full can down the countertop with only a minimum of spillage. "Anything good in there this time around?" It's a pretty relative term, since pretty much every story is the same, with a different couple and a different locale. She doesn't seem concerned at all though, leaning against the counter so casually, wearing gym shorts and a workout top. Chances are she got back in from a jog and just faceplanted in the couch.

Jacob has no idea on what constitutes a good book when it comes to those kinds of books, so he looks dumbfounded just prior to looking down to the beer sent in his direction. "Yeah, might want to come to the library next time you want to abuse my access to novels upon novels of your beefcake." He trails off in leaning his cane against a counter of the kitchen and pivots in place, taking the beer up in his right hand and tilting it thankfully towards Jessica. "And do be sure to come dressed like that. Please." And then there's a sip.

"What, and give all the library nerds a free look? I don't think so." She too takes a sip, which is more of a gulp really. "And besides, you know I don't have a legit library card. It was kinda low on my list of priorities for IDs used by aliases. Still is, I guess. And why bother when I can just turn on the feminine wiles, and have you do the leg work for me. You know, to the best of your ability."

"It'd stop all the lonely librarian ladies," he loves the alliteration of that, "From making passes at me, nerds or non." Jacob looks down to the can of beer and rolls it within his hand before shaking his head with a brief laugh. "Good point, maybe, so long as I get to see these wiles of yours. Otherwise, I'll be taking Scandalous Proposal by Julia Justiss and Lord of Scoundrels by Loretta Chase back to the shelves." He whistles casually under his breath and steps up into the fullness of his height in the middle of another pull of beer, longer than the first. "I also got you the Unlacing of Miss Leigh, just because it sounded hot."

"Are you trying to get me hooked on girl-on-girl action or something? Is that your new thing? That last one sounds like it's probably like that," Crewe says with a modest shrug. Once again, she seems totally unconcerned. "I mean, not that I'm complaining or anything. I'll probably still read it, if only for shits and giggles, you know? Learn how the other half lives or whatever."

Jacob opens his mouth to speak up and then shuts himself back down. Sometimes it's best to keep quiet on things, like this. It's rather difficult to keep silent for long though and with a smarmy little thing of a smile does he lower his beer and reply. "There was the Wedding Gamble, but consider me avoiding the idea of commitments like marriage when it comes to reading material. Besides, this here ego of mine wants everyone paying any and all attention on me." He places a hand to his chest in a brief gesture. "So, no girl-on-girl, just Hobbes." He trails off and looks aside towards the packaged books: "They can't be that erotic, anyway, right?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure these novels are inspirations for many an adult movie. Yeah, they're that bad. But if you want to be the center of attention, you could spend your time down there at the library writing your own, you know. They aren't that hard…I'd guess. It's just, cast a beefcake, a desperate woman who's sexual needs have gone unfulfilled by her husband, a tropical locale no housefrau will ever visit, and then…the dirty stuff. And don't skimp on the adjectives." Crewe lifts her beer and tips it in his direction, a sort of 'good luck' gesture.

"That sounds like work." He looks rather dubious at the notion of writing her cheesy smut, but in the end Jacob shifts his weight onto his left side and tips his head back to drain the rest of his beer. He sucks in a sharp breath and holds it in his chest. "I think I'll stick to the dirty business of taking out people for the better of the world." He folds his arms over his chest with a quick smirk. "So should I switch from bringing you your romance novels to a bunch of porn?"

"The library has that now?" Crewe asks with a raised brow. "Boy, they're really lowering their standards, aren't they? I mean, I can remember when the libraries had books, and that was it. No movies, no video games, but books. If you couldn't read or couldn't understand them, you were shit out of luck. But now, it's like walking into a damn…I dunno. Do Blockbuster stores even exist anymore? I haven't seen one in ages." Like Hobbes, Crewe is nearly done with the beer, so she drains it out, gives a belch that rather lacks feminine wiles, then smushes the can down against the countertop. "You better put that can in the recycling."

Jacob laughs. "Not at all, but I've caught one of the clerks looking at some nice vids about a month ago. The wonders of the Internet," there's a short pause, "And the power of a good and proper belch. That's about as unsexy as you can get, huh?" He unfolds his arms and looks to the can of beer before plucking it up from where he's sat it down. It's tossed into the air so that he can catch it with his offhand. "You think so?" He looks it closely over before tossing it in her direction. "Didn't they go bankrupt?" Blockbuster, that is. His right hand braces his bad leg as he steps closer.

"If I knew, do you think I'd have to ask? I don't keep up with that shit. When I want a movie…well, I usually don't want a movie. I hear that Netflix business works pretty good. But it'd be hard with all the moving around I do. You know what I mean, of course. And wait…I thought the city put porno blockers on their computers just so vagrants and all couldn't come in and get a little action going on those terminals?" There is in fact a recycling bin that Crewe uses, a small trash can with a clear back inside. With practiced ease, she just chucks the can across the kitchen and into said basket.

Mister Hobbes looks to her and then over his shoulder to the apartment beyond the small kitchen area. He shrugs. "I didn't check to see how he did it. Just made certain he owed me some favors to have him keep his job like a good little blackmailer. And, if you don't mind," he points to the refrigerator with both hands before sliding past her, "I'm going to take another in the middle of your three points." In the middle of the basketball reference, he uses one hand to try opening the fridge and the other tries to further distract from his minor thievery by swatting at her backside.

He reaches, and she snags his wrist. "Do it, and I fucking break it, bud. These goods are off-limits." What for, who knows…but maybe that's private! "And go ahead, take one for the road. Want a paper lunch bag to go with it? Or are you going to just put it in your pocket and make sure it's good and shaken by the time you get back to…where are you going? Back to work? Your pad? The bunker?"

"It'd almost be worth it, you know." Jacob lifts an eyebrow suggestively before rolling his wrist out in order to escape her grip, turning his attention more so to the fridge in the process. "Don't know yet, though. I'm fine carrying. Not like my apartment is far from here." Three minute walk, at worst, when it comes to traveling leisurely with his cane. There's another languid shrug of his shoulders before he turns around to face her. "But, lunch breaks is as lunch breaks are, eh? Stop by the library later on? I could use the company."

He does happen to have a false identity to uphold. He might as well go handle that now that he's made his delivery.

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