A Man, A Job, A Thing

October 21, 2018:

Owen seeks out Eddie to help him on a job for Rand.



NPCs: None.

Mentions: Danny Rand


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

There she is at the bar in all her glory. Long legs stretch out across another stool clad in thigh high vinyl boots and a black body suit that cling to her ever curve. Everything about her is immaculate from the manicure of her nails to the application of make-up. Every curl to her flowing blonde hair holding the perfect shape that bounce in little springs with each melodic laugh that sings from the bow of her ruby red lips.

And then further down the bar is Eddie.

Morales is keeping herself busy by tearing a coaster into tiny little shreds with her gloved fingers, flicking bits of it at those golden tresses and silently congratulating her aim when one sticks to the back of Barbie's head. Dandruff is a bitch.


Having a contact list full of people who deal in things far from anyone's definition of above board has come in handy for Owen Mercer far more than he ever expected. A year ago he would have talked about going straight and how he was leaving everything behind, just walking away. But more and more walking away has become dancing back and forth. A little work here, a little reconnecting there and it's gotten so that Owen no longer even feels a twinge of guilt in looking up an old contact.

Danny Rand needs a fixer to work the antiquities crowd on his behalf and that means dealing with snobby dealers and extremely careful curators. Those are not Owen's forte to say the least. So while he has been starting to look into pawn shops and fences, he's decided to maybe reach out to an old friend to see if she's interested.

Okay, friend is a bit strong. More like 'business' contact.

Owen walks into the bar like a young man coming home. It feels good. The warmth of the bar, it's patrons and their boozy conversation quickly dispels the fall chill. Seeing his contact, Owen's lip twitch up into a smile which turns into a grin when he sees her game. And so Owen makes his approach … to the blonde.

Leaning over, in the most obnoxious -I am hitting on you- pose, he smiles flirtily and starts in with "Hey gorgeous. Anyone ever tell you … you have crap in yer hair?"

The blond woman, already skeeved out by Owen appearing and obviously about to hit on her like so many before him tonight and all nights, starts to protest, but then feels her hair in confusion before shoving Owen away to retreat to the ladies room.

That little adventure over, Owen orders a beer and a shot of whiskey before walking down towards Eddie.


Eddie's busy shaking her head in disappointment as Mercer approaches, her hand sweeping off the evidence from the top of the bar to the floor. "Always gotta ruin my fun." Her tone is light and airy as it travels the distance between them. Her leather clad fingers grip the edge of the bar and screw her stool back to face her drink, hunkering over her own glass of whiskey with elbows planted on either side of it.

"Been a while." But seeming how she keeps in close personal contact with booze as much as possible, it's clear she's still addressing Owen even if she isn't looking at him. "Sure you didn't mean to follow her into the bathroom and shag the confetti out of her hair?"


"Aw did ya see her face though? That was good solid fun."

Well at least for Owen. He makes his approach and pulls out a stool to sit. Thankfully his own drink arrives and he takes the shot before even answering her.

"It has."

Owen doesn't really comment on why it has or the fact that he was never her contact with the Rogues before. He does laugh at the joke and says "Yea, well I'm playing the long con. Next step is to spill a drink on her. But first, a little business."


There is an ineloquent noise at the mention of business, her own glass soon emptied at the notion that he's bringing that up here. Now. She gives a shrill whistle at the bartender, throwing up a pair of fingers before aiming them down at their suddenly lacking glasses to order a refill.

"If you've been keeping track of me, then you should know that if that's what you want, it typically goes through this." She picks up her cell phone and gives it a little waggle. "I stopped talking 'business' face to face a while ago." Eddie turns her head towards Owen, her face tucked low to her shoulder so that her cheek touches the long sleeve of her football kit. Clearly she's a Manchester United fan. "You're serious?"


Protocols exist for a reason. Owen knows this and yet, here he is in a bar talking to Eddie face to face. He nods, acquiescing that this isn't the way she does business but he takes a sip of his beer and waits to see if she walks away.

"Well. See the issue is that I have a client. He's missing something. Maybe."

The details aren't really clear to Owen if there is anything even to be found, but he's sure Danny can afford to pay even if nothing turns up. Probably.

"Can I give him your number? Finances are not an issue."

And while others might be worried about people hearing that they are free to price gouge Owen's never known Eddie to be anything but efficient and 'fair' in her pricing, at least as far that goes in this line of work.

"And bonus, if you say yes we can go back to tormenting Street Walker Barbie."


"Mother fucker." It's not just cussing for cussing's sake, it's directed very pointedly at what Owen may or may not do with his maternal figure. Eddie's eyes roll up as she digs in her jeans pocket as the bartender comes over, slapping down a couple of Benjamins and plucking the bottle from his hand. "We're taking this, and we're going out the back door." She informs the employee and the man by her side as she slides off her stool, snagging her jacket from the seat and heads off in that direction, expecting the latter to follow it seems as she doesn't even slow down to make sure Owen is. "You never did know when to shut your mouth, did you, pretty boy?" She calls over her shoulder as she walks down the hall and elbows open the emergency exit that conveniently no longer has an alarm, leaving the thrum of the club music behind her.


Owen accepts the name calling with little protest except for a small smile. The fact that she hasn't shot at him yet is a good sign as far as Owen's usual interactions with women from his past. He makes it a point to shoot a look at the bartender that would indicate this is a good sign in Owen's night, when in fact it may or may not be at all.

"Oh calm yer tits. I haven't even said anything yet."

Owen complains as he follows her out the door, oblivious to the fact that some people require discretion for their livelihood. Captain Cold always handled the more delicate aspects of any jobs. And really Owen runs around calling himself Captain Boomerang, with a boomerang emblazoned scarf, throwing boomerangs. He doesn't really know what low-key means.


Eddie juggles the bottle from one hand to the other as she slips her jacket on, which seems superfluous as they don't seem to be going far, just a street over and behind an apartment complex. "You said enough. But now everyone thinks we just went to bang one out in the alley. So we're good." She jumps a little, snagging a hanging chain with her free hand and yanking down the ladder of a fire escape. "My place is the fifth floor. Up you go, sweet cheeks." Making him go first is a trust thing, as in she has very little of it.


"Wait, are we not going to have hot dirty sex in the alley?"

Owen's mock confusion last just long enough for him catch up with her at the apartment complex.

"I do remember how much you /love/ touching people." Because even Owen can keep track of something as unique as that trait. Glancing up at the ladder and then back at her when she indicates that he's first, he shrugs.

Within a blink of an eye Owen is now on the sixth floor (counting is hard) smoking a cigarette and calling down, "'ey, you comin' or what?"


There is a slight curl of her lip at the mention of touching people, but it barely has time to form before he's zooming up the fire escape. Eddie, however, takes her sweet time.

By the time the bottle is clunked down on the landing and Morales emerges up the final set of stairs, he'll have had time to check out the place through the window while he smokes his cigarette. It's lit with a kerosene lamp, nothing but a bare mattress with a sleeping bag unrolled on it and the rest of her gear, packed and ready to go at a moment's notice at the foot of it. She removes a penny from the lip of the window before she opens it so he can duck inside. At least there is heat from the old radiator system?

"I'm pretty sure people don't like to be touched by me." Eddie intones before she flops on her bedroll. "Now strip."


After finding the proper floor, Owen does take the time to look in and he frowns. What? He was expecting luxury, marble floors and gold fixtures and maybe one of those showers like at Rand's. What is this hobo bolt hole? Oh.. right, it's a bolt hole.

He waits for her to enter and then slides in the window easily after her, cigarette still between his lips. He is in the midst of looking around when she commands him to strip.

"Wait so we are having hot sex..? I'm confused."

He may be confused but he's also taking off his clothes because really why argue when women command you to get naked. This of course gives ample opportunity for Eddie to see the wonder that is Owen's … tramp stamp. Oh yes. BOOMERANG in gothic font nearly three inches high written in an arc over his ass. For anyone other than Owen this would be a horrific mistake that they would never live down. For Owen, it's just another bad decision on the list.


Eddie gives a laugh, a tight thing in her chest, "You wish. You're cute. I don't do cute." She tips the bottle towards her mouth, never letting the lip of it touch her own as she pours in the whiskey and swallows the heat. Sure, she's unabashed about taking in the show, and the subsequent eye roll is enough to indicate she's noted the tattoo. "How high were you when you got that done?" She asks while she waits for him to shimmy all the way out of his skivvies.

"Kick your clothes over to me. You got a phone in there?" All of this clearly has a purpose beyond just seeing him naked, bonus as that maybe, she's clearly looking for wires. A girl can't be too careful.


Wether it was his stint in prison or just his general lack of decency Owen doesn't even cup himself or try to hide anything. Nope, he's really just letting it all hang out there.

"Actually that was to commemorate me getting sober…" Oh yes, because getting a drunken tattoo isn't bad enough. "It's awesome, right?"

He does kick the clothes over and waits, "Look, I get it. I'm not yer usual contact. This is not a setup. And yea, my phones there but it's like eighty percent dick pics and well, you've already seen that so it's probably not that interesting." Somehow in all the disrobing, he managed to keep the cigarette between his lips. And so with nothing on and nothing else to do he blows smoke rings, maybe the only sign that he's even slightly uncomfortable with this.


Eddie's head tilts sloooowly to the side, dark eyes blinking. "Must be cold in here."

A little device is pulled out of her nearby bag, waved over his clothing as she waits for any telltale beeps. When none come, she seems satisfied to dig in his pockets until she can find his phone. "So who is this client of yours?" Morales finally feels free to talk about this business he's come to her with, eyes ticking up ever so often from her tasks to watch the naked man blowing smoke rings. Her hands turn over his phone a few times, before Eddie is biting the material of the middle finger of her glove and peeling it off. With a grit to her teeth, she touches the device with her bare hand. Moments later, she's entering his code to unlock it.


Giving himself a quick shake at the comments about the cold, because even the least self conscious guy still wants to look his best, Owen waits patiently. Once she has moved on to his phone he points at the clothes, "So can I get dressed?" Not really waiting he's slipping on his clothes before answering.

"The client is a New York richie rich interested in some Asian antiquities that his dad might have had, or sold or tried to acquire?" Owen really should listen more. Or at the very least drink less when people are talking about important things.

He looks a little put out as she opens his phone but doesn't protest. Yes Danny's number is in there under 'Rand'. But there's also a 'Stark' in there too. And a number of names like 'G-Dogg', 'Humpty' and 'Ferret'. It's an eclectic mix, that's for sure.


"Always ruining my fun…" Eddie says with an exaggerated sigh as he tugs on his clothing, either she's scrolling through his dick pics or his contacts, but either way she doesn't comment on what she's finding. More disconcerting, she's starting to thumb in some entry of her own.

"So some guy who you won't name, needs something done that you're not sure about, regarding some items that you don't have a clue about. That about sum it up?" The phone gets tossed back in his direction, but his deft hands should have no trouble catching it, even if it's not boomerang shaped. A new contact has been entered under 'For A Good Time Call' and it has the number to no doubt a burner phone. "You know I don't even get out of bed any more for less than ten thousand plus expenses."


"Hey I've offered to blow yer mind a couple times." Well not really, but kind of. And it's not like either of them is serious with their banter anyway.

"That probably sounds like nearly all of your jobs. But look I need to know if I have my client call you, that you take the call. I assure you, your regular fee is fine. Which is why I'm not making the call, I don't have that kinda cheese layin around. He does." Right? Sure, he can probably swing that. Besides the only fixer that Danny could hire would likely be attached to Rand in someway already, and he doesn't want that. So this is better.

But maaaybe he should have asked Danny first anyway?


"Trust me, sugar britches, consider my mind blown." A pause. "You always did have a thing for blondes." By the look of the grind of the heel of her palm to her forehead, Eddie's steadily developing a headache or she's fighting off the lingering effects of the visions she had to search through to find his passcode and to see if she was being set up. "Yeah, yeah. If it rings, I'll answer. Just have him ask for Hashmark, and for the love of all that's holy, Mercer, don't give him my real name."


The blond remark is more likely chalked up to the fact that Owen still has photos of him and Harley on the phone. And some of just Harley. Which is to say, it's a very NSFW phone even for those without powers like hers. He shrugs and says "Yea well maybe I'll go try my luck with that one at the bar.."

He laughs and flicks the cigarette over his shoulder and out the still open though barely window. "I won't. I haven't said his. Won't say yours. If there's one thing I believe in, it's that." And really it's that important to Owen, even if he's casual about everything else. He takes his phone back and adds easily as he leaves, "I figure like ten percent finders fee is fair?"


"If you can find me again to collect." Eddie drawls as she flops back onto the mattress, slinging her arm over her eyes. "Which means I'm getting soft."

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