Mending Holes

July 10, 2018:

Emery and Luke talk about Princesses and Boomerangs.

Danny Rand's Roof

Premo smoking and sock darning location.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Danny Rand, Jessica Jones, Owen Mercer, Matt Murdock, Wilson Fisk

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

When someone is rich and their employers are rich, there really is no need for mundane things like 'mending clothing'. In fact, new clothing could be purchased everyday and the old get tossed out if someone was that care free. But, even with the ability to order black dress socks for Danny in bulk…Emery still takes time to do simple things.

Like being settled on the roof of Danny's home, settled down in a lawn chair, with a second pulled up beside him as he is busy darning socks. Darning needle, thread, basket of socks with holes in them. His fingers are making quick work of patching up holes, biting off thread and then tossing the socks in a second basket. A project of his, to make sure the clothing donated to others is still in good repair no doubt. He occasionally reaches beside himself to take a long sip from a bottle of Jamenson, before going back to darning. The sound of the evening around, calming as he tries to distract himself from the things weighing on his mind.

*

There have been times that Jess and Luke have just propped the window open in the guest room and snuck a smoke, but it's not a long term solution to a nicotine habit. While she's been known to chain-smoke, Luke's own addiction is a budding thing and typically surrounded by times of stress. The door leading to the roof top patio snaps open a bit more forcefully then intended, no doubt smacking open on its hinges loud enough to drag anyone from their peaceful repose up here. An unlit cigarette dangles from his lips while he's busy glowering down at his cell phone, shaking it as if /that/ will cause a text to come in sooner. "Oh." He mumbles around the cancer stick when his eyes lift and he spots Emery. "Didn't mean to interrupt your…" What /is/ the man doing? Luke squints. "…trip to the 1930's."

*

"Hm?" Emery looks up from where he's patching up the sock, his fingers moving through the practiced moves and he nods his head towards the chair beside him. "Not interruptin' me. Just darnin' a few socks so I have a healthy load to take to the shelters this weekend." He replies softly after a moment of just studying the taller man quietly. There's a soft snort though. "Sometimes the best entertainment in teh 30s was darnin' socks and listening to the radio. Its calming in a way."

There's a shrug of his shoulder. "Sneakin' up here to have a couple of puffs are ye? ITs a good spot. Perfect circulation, wind blows just right to get the smoke out of your face and all."

*

Luke eyes the lawn chair for a moment, as if mentally gauging its sturdiness and calculating the maximum weight capacity of the piece of furniture. He must decide it's safe so he eases down into it, pausing for a moment at a suspicious noise before risking resting his entire frame into the cradle. "What about me says 'sneaky'." When you stand nearly a foot taller than the average person, it's not an adjective that gets used for Luke often. He stretches his legs out in front of him, tucking one on each side of a basket so his knees aren't bunched up to his chest.

He glances at his phone one last time before he flips it screen side down in his lap and finally lights up. "How old are you exactly? I mean, I heard that black don't crack, but I never heard that about the Irish."

*

"I have known men bigger than you that moved so quietly, they startled their own shadows. Also, I didn't say you were succesfully sneaking." Emery drawls with a hint of a smirk, finishing up another sock and pairing it with its match before tossing it in the right basket and reaching for the next sock. The question though just makes him tilt his head to the side for a moment and then continue to darn in silence.

Then after about a minute he speaks up. "Me /Ma/ was Irish. Me father, as far as I have been told, looked like a dark haired, tanned Spaniard." A pause. "And the Irish would surprise ye. But I'm old enough to have lived through both World Wars." He angles a look over to Luke. "How are ye holding up lad?"

*

"I think that's the first time you ever answered a question from me that wasn't about food or taking care of the house." Luke looks aside to Emery with an amused shine to his eyes even if the expression doesn't quite make it to his mouth. "Even if it was only partially. Usually you just jig around it." There was no exact number attached, after all.

The big man looks to the cloud of cigarette smoke that dissipates above them, the grey twirling for a moment in the evening breeze before it gets whisked off to the ether. How is he holding up? Nothing about that is uncomplicated. "Better than most." He just rumbles, glancing down at his lap at his phone. "Be better if Owen would just…call." The bunching up on Luke's forehead aren't from anger, but worry.

*

"Ye shielded me body with your own body. I owed you a semi-straight answer. Besides, ye never really have asked me anyting about me personally. Beyond the basics and weather or not there will be pancakes." Emery winks and shakes his head. "And before ye get all protesty, most people dun ask the help for their life stories so its not abnormal, Master Luke."

He does let the big man digest the question though and the answer just makes him blink a few times and pause in hsi darning. "Master Danny put Mercer out the other night after he found out about the smack. But its okay. He's got the keys to me pent house and I can always get him the keys to me condo if he needs them." He sighs softly. "What do ye need from that pain in me arse? If its an emergency, I can usually get him to reply…"

*

Luke usually glosses over anything that vaguely resembles a thank you, which is easy to do when he finds out Mercer was right here at the house and he missed the opportunity. "He was /here/?" And Danny kicked him out?! Not that he entirely blames the guy, given yes, Owen in in some sort of relapse. Luke just sighs and shakes his head, "He said we needed to talk and now he's not returning my texts. I don't want to go flooding him like some needy ex-girlfriend, but he owes me some words. Don't…" As much as it pains him, "Don't chase him down. When he's ready, he'll call." There is a nod from the big man, convincing himself if not Emery.

*

"I don't have to chase him down. He's one of Kennis's emergency contacts." Emery shrugs his shoulders and then nods again as he gets back into his darning rhythm. "Owen Mercer, is complicated. But he's a good lad, afraid of how brave he really is. I'm not the trustin' sort, but me daughter is fond of him and he's helped me out when I needed him the most. He copes with the harshest tings and memories in life by usin' things that are external. He's an addict, but like most addicts its because he doesn't know how to trust himself."

A sock is held up to the moonlight so he can peer at something and then continue working on it. "But if its not an emergency, they aye. Give him time." He narrows his eyes, opening his mouth and then closing his mouth as he darns. "Wilson Fisk. That name means somethin' to you lot. And I know it isn't me place to say, but I get a feelin' that with teh disney princesses and the drugs and the explosions…are probably goin' to lead to somethin' bigger unless you all find a way to stop him, aye?"

*

Leaning back slightly in the chair, he ashes a cigarette he's not really smoking, at this point its more just a comfort thing than any need to fill other cravings. "You don't have to sell me on Owen. I saw something inside of him when we first met. There's a reason he was set to inherit my old Trust. And there's a reason I haven't had him sign the paperwork to be on the new one." A wide palm rubs over his bald head, like that massage spurs his thought processes.

"You want read in, or you want to stay on the peripheral of all this?" The question is an honest one, because sometimes innocent is bliss. And so is plausible deniability, when you have a kid to protect.

*

"I probably know more about all this than you even think I do, Master Luke. The funny thing about bein' the help, is that ye get a keen ear for listenin' and are usually the shoulder people come to drunk ramble upon." Emery finishes the next sock and just toys with it idly. "Whether or I like it or not. The mess that you all are currently in, puts all the people I can count on one hand and rely on to be there for me daughter in case something happens to me? In danger. Well, more danger." He bites off another piece of string and slips the sock onto his hand to check for more holes. "You sent the video to me as well, so obviously ye weren't trying to keep me on the peripheral of it."

*

"I sent you that video because you deserved to know, and I actually thought…you might be some help." Dark brown eyes shoot over to Emery, one eyebrow cocked with that statement in an additional bid for assistance. "Look, I saw how you were when we went to the Kitchen. You knew everyone who knew something. So what I'm thinking, is maybe one of those people you know might be able to help us work an 'in' with one of these Princesses. Danny and I tried muscle, but we could only get /just/ below them on the ladder before the trail dried up. We got samples, but now we need the Pretty Pretty Princess suppliers. One of us," He's not going to drop Matt or Daredevil's name, the way Emery reacted to Matt's presence the other day as a stranger, "Seems to think that it's part of something bigger, yeah."

*

"Mmhm. I knew you didn't include me in your group video text because ye just liked me cookin' lad." Emery chuckles softly and idly starts re-winding up his spool of thread as he listens to the request, eyebrows knitting and then relaxing for a moment. "I know alot of people, aye." He agrees softly. "I can even give you a few names of dealers. But if ye want a date with a Disney Princess, you are going to have to buy a ticket to the theme park. How much are ye all willin' to pay into this whole scheme? And once you have the suppliers? How do expect to keep them from getting snuffed out to keep you all from following their money trails?"

There is another pause before he quickly shakes his head. "It matters not, if ye want some drug dealer names I have a few. Offer them a sweet enough deal so as not to get double crossed. But…if they get spooked. Be prepared for more bloodshed. Corpses tell no stories."

*

"Nothing I can bankroll myself." Luke replies honestly, he doesn't have two dimes to rub together himself, "It's nothing I'm going to move on right now." A distant look makes his face go blank now, eyes shifting to focus on nothing over the railing. What's a little collateral damage of some street thugs compared to the eight thousand that Fisk leveled in one go. Morals are a bitch.

He's brought back to the here and now by the acrid smell of his cigarette burning down to the filter, and he jabs out the last of the cherry on his palm. "Anyway."

*

"If you plan on using Danny's money for this, Master Luke, it cannot be traced back to him. His company is already under public scrutiny. Have him pay you, for some service on the books, and give you a generous bonus. Then what you do with your money after being paid is your business. Get it all in cash. Unmarked bills. Keep your hands clean." Emery gives his advice and starts to get to his feet, sighing softly. "When the balance between good and evil is teetering closer towards evil. We often have to operate in the shadows, to get it rebalanced. Its when you stop giving a shite about what happens, that you're lost. Keeping caring, and you all will get through this. Alright?"

*

"You think just because you're ancient, you're Buddha now, spouting off all this deep motivational stuff?" Luke tilts his head back, not often he has to look up at someone unless they're standing and he's not. At least the comment has pulled out the first hint of smile from Cage, landing it on the goodnatured side of the line. "But I promise, whatever I do, it won't implicate Dee. I practically owe the man my existence, I'm not going to mess his up."

*

Emery blinks a few times and just arches an eyebrow at Luke, watching him quietly for a few moments and shaking his hed. "Nah, I just took a class in Butler School on how to say inspirational sounding rubbish to fill the silence in between acts of service." He drawls with a small smirk as he reaches down to grab his baskets and stack them on top of each other. "I know you will do what you feel and think is best Master Luke, and you will do it in a way that will keep the people around you as safe as you can." A pause. "Did you want pancakes and eggs tomorrow with your bacon, or just eggs, toast and veggies with your bacon?"

*

Luke gives sort of an empty hiccup of a chuckle at that crack, but his eyes have already dropped to the filter that he's still rolling gently between his thumb and forefinger so he doesn't accidentally pulverize it. There Emery goes, defaulting back to Rand Employee. "Thanks, but not hungry." The words form deep in his chest, audible only because the vibration that makes them rather than any delivery of air to project them.

*

"Not askin' for tonight, ye oversized candy bar. I'm askin' so I can plan my menu for tomorrow." Emery rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "But if ye have no preferences, I'll just do a decent fry up for everybody and you'll just get what you want as usual." He hoists the baskets up to rest on his hip with a slight squint. "You'll also have those names by the mornin'. Alright?"

*

Truth is the big man who is usually a garbage disposal hasn't been eating much of anything lately. If it's anything at all, it's been bland foods like he's been nursing a bellyache since that night in Hell's Kitchen. "No..no bacon for me." He manages to say that like those are the most normal words out of Luke Cage's mouth. Somewhere, hell just froze over. "But yeah man, I appreciate the leads but like I said, no rush."

*

There is a pause and a small nod, a thoughtful nod as Emery just stares at Luke very intently for a moment and then clears his throat. "I'll make porridge tomorrow then." He decides before starting to head for the rooftop door and pausing to look back towards Luke thoughtfully once more and then continue. "You know me, I like to keep busy! You lot keep me on me toes, and I'm still hopin' to finally see a white hair." He winks and flashes a dimpled grin as he works on getting the door open. "If ye have anyting that needs to be washed, leave them outside your door Master Luke, and have a good evening!"

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