bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ WOKE UP IN JAIL ]

Where are you? Why is your bed so hard? Why is someone peeing right by your head?
Oh right. Because you got pinched last night. Welcome to the slammer, baby.

• Post with your character name/fandom/options preferences.
• Use RNG to pick your possible scenario - or just go with what you'd like most.
• Reply to other people's tags. Use RNG or decide what your part in the whole kerfuffle is.
• Enjoy the confusion.

Reason(s) you're in jail:

1. Indecent Exposure
Nobody wanted to watch you strut around with everything hanging out, and someone called you on it. Hope they gave you a jumpsuit or you're going to be prison eye candy.

2. Drunk and disorderly conduct
"Wassat, occifer? No... I'm not dru-*hic* drunk. I'm unner the legal limit. Wooo!" No, no you're not. You're way over. Sleep it off, buddy.

3. Vandalism
Oh, you naughty thing. You got busted stealing that 'Chickens X-ing' sign. Or was it drawing boobs on the drive-thru clown? Either way, tsk tsk.

4. B&E
Apparently your friend didn't think you kicking in his window to sneak in and leave him a 'present' was as good of an idea as you thought it was. Well, no love for HIM. *hmph*

5. Grand Theft Auto
The car was BEGGING to go for a ride. It called to you with its sireny car-call. And you just had to answer. If it hadn't been for the damn spike belt...

6. Kidnapping
Trust me, there are better ways to get money to pay for your Bieber concert tickets.

7. Murder
Talk about being caught red handed. You got caught red armed. And faced. And front. You're messy.

8. Any/all of the above
Ooooh... You've been REALLY naughty, haven't you? Actually, you kind of scare me.

Relationship of the person tagging:

1. Cohort in Crime.

2. Person coming to bail you out. (or not)

3. Jailer/Warden.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Matthew shrugged again - it's all the same to me - and followed her. The rear exit was, of course, locked. He blew it off its hinges with a thought, walking out into the alley as though he was completely unconcerned about the entire situation.

"You hungry?"

Ok, she was alittle jealous of his abilities. Not that she'd have any reason to need them (well, except apparently for busting herself out of jail) but it was slightly cool. Not that she'd volunteer that information again because the head exploding and neck breaking thing? So not cool.

"Hungry?" She looked at him incredulously. "How can you think about food after you just killed two men and busted me outta---" She pressed her lips together as her stomach grumbled. "Yeah, ok." She said with a shrug. Are you crazy?

"I haven't eaten since morning! Know a good diner? ...Can you eat out? Won't people recognize you?" Honestly, she wasn't sure whether she was saying yes was because she was actually really hungry or because a part of her was a little scared of him right now.

Edited 2017-10-12 04:59 (UTC)

Matthew, of course, would argue that exploding heads was the ultimate height of coolness. He also, however, would argue that Glen Campbell was cool so he was obviously not to be trusted.

He shrugged. "Let's take the subway - get away from here quick and quiet. No, nobody will recognise me." He looked at her and grinned. "I don't have a police record, you know. You do now, I guess."

You didn't have to tell her twice. Ezera started to make her way to the 59th street and Lexington avenue subway station, while checking to see whether her Metrocard was still in her back pocket because oh, sure, there was nothing wrong with spray painting a building but only a real bastard jumps the turnstile.

Her mouth dropped open. "How do you not have a police re--" Oh. She thought of the dead cop and narrowed her eyes at him in consideration. "Mmmhm. I see." Go home, Ezera. But ok, he got a small dry laugh from her at that last bit. "Oh, I've had one for a while. The police and I are the best of frenimies. Besides, you arrived at a fortunate time, actually. They were holding me but I hadn't gotten booked yet. Score one for me. Thanks, by the way. For, you know, not leaving me there."

Matthew apparently also respected the turnstile, as he dutifully used his own card.

"Well, I figured we know one another and you haven't tried to kill me. And I was there anyway, so." A shrug, as if it was the sort of favour on par with lending a cup of sugar.

"You should learn not to get caught."

The look on her face said, 'wha?'. "I haven't tried to kill you." She repeated, throwing her head back as she chuckled. "The bars pretty low, huh? Well, don'cha worry, all I'm armed with is my sharp wit." Imagine that, her, trying to kill someone. The idea was so absurd it was almost comical. A black and white Chaplinesque movie played in her head of what that might look like.

"Yeah? And how would you suggest that I do that?" She asked, opening herself up to what she knows is going to be an answer that she's likely gonna want to deeply sigh after hearing. She ducks down to look at the subway stop. "Two more stops? There's a great place on 10th."

What she doesn't notice is that for the last two stops, probably since they got on the subway, they were being followed.

He shrugged yet again. It may have seemed like a low bar to her, but Matthew was used to people hating his guts and the idea that she wouldn't turn on him is a strange one.

"I'd recommend learning how to break and enter better, for a start," he said. "Also get some fake IDs. You're actually pretty charming so I think that would actually get you really far. Manipulating people will get you out of most trouble even if you DO get caught."

Paranoid as he was, Matthew didn't notice. He was busy thinking about food.

There's no reason to notice him, actually. He's in another car. The person is one plainclothes policeman. He's not dumb enough to approach. He's seen the result of what happened at the precinct, having arrived just a breath after they left. Running out the door, he followed the only two people close enough to have heard something or...done, something.

"Hey, I didn't expect to make it up to one of the floors. I thought, lobby. Spray. Done. But then the guy left the key in the elevator. Just left it there! Well, c'mon, right? Golden opportunity. Come what may."

Huh. "Fake ID." Why hadn't she thought of that? Oh, right. Because she usually doesn't need one. Weeeell. "That's..that's not a bad idea, actually." She said mulling over the thought. And, yes, she wasn't blind to what her charm could get her out of but like all things, there was an extent to its usefulness.

When the subway doors opened, she got out and walked them to the diner.
Popping down in a booth, eagerly awaited the menu.

"I did think about something you suggested though. The whole...hired help thing to keep up appearances."

When the waitress came up to them, Ezera glanced at her name tag and smiled brightly. Her name was Fu King.

"Hello Fu King coffee please." She may have sounded completely serious but when she glanced at Matt her eyes were filled with sly comedic amusement.

Matthew followed along, sitting down and looking over the menu with great interest. He really was hungry, and there were so many more choices available in restaurants than where he lived.

"Yeah?"

When Ezera ordered, looking pleased with himself, he just gave her a look.

"Coffee as well," he said. When the waitress had left he shook his head. "Mature," he said.

Ezera clicked her tongue and chuckled under her breath. "But amusing. It's the little things." She said, still eying the menu. Coffee was just a given. Like breathing. "Think I'm going to have a burger." She said nonchalantly.

"Mmhm. Though I'm sure how that would work. Becau--" The waitress had come back with the pot, cutting off the conversation. "Thanks. I think I'll have a veggie burger, with sweet potato fries though, not home style. How about you?" She asked Matt.

"Your name is pretty dopey sounding too, you know."

Matthew eyeballed the menu one last time. "I'll have... The Man's Man, please. Home style fries. Oh, and the pale ale. Thanks."

He handed the menu back, then turned his attention to his coffee. "So. This hired help," he prompted.

"Ah, but at least it's not common." She said as if common meant, death sentence. Perish the thought of being a 'Nancy', 'Rachel', or 'Joann'.

She took a sip of her coffee and nodded. "Yeah, them. Well, what you said made some sense. Craft an image, have other people be the hired muscle. Thing is, they'd have to fall in line. No shady business or extraneous 'activities'. They'd have to do what I say. The last thing I want is to find out that they've been up to serious shit on my behalf, hurt people, and suddenly, I'm not only complicit but things are going off the rails and I make things worse for the people I'm actually trying to help. I researched executive protection," she said slowly as if trying to remember if that was the right word, "but I'm not sure they'll do the trick either."

She shrugged, looking into her coffee as if it were a scrying mirror that could show her the future.

"Uuuugh. Every time I hear myself say something like that, it sounds so insane."

"God forbid."

Matthew listened, sipping his coffee with obvious pleasure.

"Why wouldn't they? And you know, money buys a lot of loyalty."

"Because one expects snakes to bite you in the ass." She mumbled. "Annnnnd that's the other thing. Not exactly rolling in money." She shrugs, again. "I'll figure it...something, out. I was thinking about the legal route too, so, we'll see."

She looked at her coffee cup, she looked at his coffee cup. This was so bizarre. Oh, hey, look at this, a nightclub owner and a hired gun (did they actually pay him though?) just sitting in a diner shooting the shit after murders have happened. The plainclothes cop had taken a seat at the other end of the diner.

"So," she started, looking at him over the rim of her coffee cup, "who was the guy in the cell? Kinda curious." And plenty nervous to actually find out.

Matthew nodded, considering her position. If she wasn't rich, it would be harder for her to ensure loyalty if she wasn't willing to be brutal. "Legal, huh? ...I know a lawyer."

At her question, he shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I know his name, but I have no idea what he did. It doesn't matter."

"Do you?" She asked, lifting her brow. "One that deals with business taker-overs and family drama?" In hostile environments, she added to herself.

Ezera was quiet for a moment, trying to imagine what it must be like to be in his shoes and totally failing. "Doesn't it though? Matter. How do you know if you haven't knocked off some decent people?"

"Criminal defense, but I bet she could recommend someone."

His head tilted to the right as he looked at her.

"Am... I supposed to care?"

Ezera hoped that a criminal defense lawyer was one she'd never need in her lifetime but agreed that maybe she'd be able to make her a recommendation. "That'd be cool."

Was it humorous that Matthew knew criminal defense lawyers or was that just her? Yeah, must just be her.

Ezera lifted her brow. It stayed there even after the food arrived. Her first thought was, 'of course,how can you even ask that' until she remembered what he told her before. She took a moment to decide how she would approach the response and another moment to ensure that she wouldn't just accidentally sputter out an eloquent emotionally charged 'duh'.

"I'd say that's worth caring about. Why do you feel it's not?" She asked, taking the ketchup container and pounding on the bottom a little harder than she had to in order to get the ketchup out.

Edited 2017-10-18 19:06 (UTC)

"I'll ask her, then."

Matthew's attention shifted to the food as soon as it was placed down. He tasted everything on the plate first before digging in with real enthusiasm. Food was far, far more interesting to him than morality.

He shrugged. "They're dead either way," he said. "No sense worrying about it now."

"Thanks." Ezera said taking another sip of her coffee. She couldn't quite touch her food though, her appetite quite diminished with his response. Ezera picked at her fries and just ended up pushing them around on her plate.

"No. They're dead because you kill them. Good people. I mean, what did they do to deserve that? Nothing. And those families and friends left behind forever changed because what, someone told you to do it? How does that make any sense?"

Edited 2017-10-22 16:18 (UTC)

Matthew shrugged yet again.

"You think life is supposed to make sense? That it's supposed to be fair? I know you're not that naive.

I don't have answers for you. I have a job to do, and I do it. I like my job. It's what I was made for."

"No. But we each play our part. We choose if we're going to make things wretched for other people or if we're going to let them be, nevermind help them." This coffee was not black enough. Ezera motioned over to the waitress who came by and refilled her cup. Her burger was getting cold.

"Well, that's just it, Matthew. That's just it." Ezera looked at him and shook her head. "It's what you were made for. It's what someone else decided you were going to be. It wasn't a choice, hell, you weren't given one from the sound of it. And that's, well, that's fucked up. Because how do you know what you even really believe if you were never given the choice to make up your own damn mind?" Ezera cleared her voice and sipped her coffee, shaking her head. "It's not right."

He watched her, face blank. Not because he was trying to be an asshole - he was just genuinely having a hard time understanding what she was driving at.

"You're upset."

Cue frozen incredulous look. Silence. Like a statue, she stared at him. Until she threw her hands up.

"Of course I'm upset! Arrgh!" She plucked a fry off her plate and attacked it. It was the only reason she was still sitting here. Yes, he was a killer. But he was made one. Someone did this to him and that was an injustice too, wasn't it? Yes, yes it damn well was. "Upset might actually be an understatement."

"Can't be good for your blood pressure."

He leaned back. His appetite had not been affected, so his plate was nearly clear. He glanced around the restaurant idly. There was a man at the other end of the diner who looked away too fast.

Matthew sat forward again, body filled with sudden subtle tension.

"Might have a problem."