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[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

The Bar is always quiet at this time of night. Jason prefers it that way. He has a plate of fried, crispy, unhealthy, delicious things, and a beer, and a laptop computer which is currently showing a map of Gotham City. It's not hugely exciting but it seems to have all his attention.

For once he is not wearing a mask. (He's armed, though. Of course.)

Comments

[slayer_fray]

"Gimme."

Mel takes one of those fried unhealthy things.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Jason lifts his gaze from his laptop to eye her dubiously.

"You know, I've never seen you eat anything not fried. How're you even alive?"

[slayer_fray]

"Superhuman metabolism."

Duh, Jason.

"I love fresh food. We don't get it at home."

Haddyn's a bigger food desert than New York in his time.

(We'd note that Mel would steal Jason's food whether it was fried or not)

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

"Oh, that." Jason shrugs, smirking a little, and pushes the plate over towards her.

He's not really the sharing type. Mel's an exception to that rule. (Because she makes it so.)

[slayer_fray]

She's annoying isn't she? It's just one of her charms.

"This is how it's going down," she explains. "I gotta catch a delivery out west, 'cause it's not like more'n me will get through the tolls out of the city. I'm a' get to Cleve, scope out the situation and use my Security badge to haul on back here and pick you up.

"Mike'll be along too. Never turn down a ninja."

[starrydome]

Elrond walks past when his attention is grabbed by the thing? - machine? - the young man is studying so intently. He slows his pace considerably, but he does't come to a full stop.

His clothes are richly embroidered with trailing vines and his long, dark hair is partly braided, keeping it away from his face.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Jason eyes him.

That outfit, in Gotham, screams freak. And not the good kind.

"Problem?"

[starrydome]

"Not at all. I have seen others with machines like that and as they are unknown in my world, I must admit that they tickle my curiosity."

He gives the young Man a small smile. "My apologies for disturbing you."

His demeanor is calm and although the apology is in no way insincere, neither does he seem terribly contrite.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Jason eyes him, dark and suspicious, but lets it pass.

"It's a computer. Showing a map."

That's practically effulgent friendship, from Jay.

[theresnodoor]

(Of course.)

This time of night, when the bar is quiet, when most occupants are sleeping, when a moment of peace can be found as easily as a drink.

Not that Coke is much of a 'drink' in terms of a bar, but it works for Rachel at the other end of the bar, leaning against the counter to order her soda.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Oh. Her.

Jason refuses to even glance her way.

[theresnodoor]

Pfft, as if she notices. She is not even aware of his existence. He's not that special.

...though after she's taken a few sips from her straw and actually glances around... well, then, yeah. He's noticed.

Which is when she turns her face forward and glares hard at the bottles across the bar, furious. But refusing to leave first.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Well Jason's certainly not going to be first to run away.

Jason doesn't run away from women.

So there.

He examines his maps carefully and does not look at her at all.

[cutting_edgex23]

Maybe it is the map of Gotham that catches X's attention. Possibly her attention is naturally drawn to people who hold themselves like they've got weapons ready to hand. Or maybe she just wants someone to talk to! It happens.

Regardless of how or why, X pauses on her way in from the lake, the damp ends of her hair still dripping water.

"Hello."

It is only polite to start that way, right?

"You are working?"

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Jason looks up, and looks her over carefully.

"Apparently. Who're you?"

[cutting_edgex23]

"X."

She apparently feels that a letter will serve as an answer. Mostly because that is her name.

"I am allowed to ask?"

Whether she means asking about his name, or asking about what he is working on --

That is up to interpretation!

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

"Sure."

Jason has no less wariness for the polite answer.

"X is your name? What, your parents couldn't write?"

[electro_kinetic]

There is someone kind of mimicking Jason in that she has a plate of fried, crispy, unhealthy, delicious things and a soda, and a laptop showing what looks like a term paper.

Which is why the narration says only kind of mimicking.

Noriko never wears a masked, though she is always armed. It's one of the side effects of being a mutant. She's never going to get used to literally never having the ability to be normal. And after a few moments of looking sideways at the guy, she speaks up. "Hey."

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Imitation is supposed to be the most sincere form of flattery, and all that.

Jason ignores her until she speaks up. Then he turns around to look her over, warily.

"Hey."

[electro_kinetic]

Something like that. (Mostly Nori just likes crispy delicious things, but she'll go with the imitation bit.)

"What's the map of?" She hardly looks all that dangerous; teenager, dyed hair, tee shirt and jeans. She's grown out of wearing her uniform all the time...mostly.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Jason looks at it, and then looks back. It's hardly a secret.

"Gotham City."

[3nanashi]

Trowa isn't armed. (Nor wearing a mask. Nor any of the other accoutrements of his circus act, for that matter.)

He is probably giving a curious eye to the map displaying on Jason's laptop, although very few would be able to spot that fact. Trowa has a lot of experience at discreet observation. It comes of compulsively monitoring your surroundings.

He's also drinking coffee. (Decaf.)

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

After a moment or three - enough for Jason to realise he's being watched, think about it, and decide it annoys him enough to do something about it - he turns around slowly to stare at Trowa, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

[3nanashi]

Trowa's glancing elsewhere when Jason turns, but after a moment he returns the look.

Blandly Impassively.

[not-his-son.livejournal.com]

Jason regards him. Suspiciously. And waits.