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

Of all the possible reactions, she's just happy that he didn't flinch in response and just accidentally blow her head up. She fans her face, trying to make the offending moisture go away. Ezera sighs and shakes her head.

"I'm crying because I feel sad. And angry. And frustrated. About the things that were done to you. That you had to do. It's not exactly part of a normal upbringing." Ezera really can't get over the matter of choice or lack thereof. She stops from droning on. It's not going to help. She already knows that this isn't quite registering the way someone would expect. So, she sniffles one last time and if it's not confusing enough, she manages a small smile, kinda like how parents do when they're putting on a brave face before they tell you that your cat was jipped out of 8 of its 9 lives when it fell out the 4th story window.

"I'm okay, Matt. Let's keep walking." Well, she looked ok, but she was kinda depressed by all this.

"Okay," he agrees, not sounding at all sure about it.

He walks with her for a while, letting her get herself under control. Eventually he risks a glance at her, nodding when he sees that she isn't weeping any more.

"You don't have to feel bad," he tells her patiently. "You weren't involved."

There's something odd about belonging to the fringe. Meaning that small percent of the population that's had some really messed up stuff happen to them. But she's coming to realize that even the fringe group has its VIP section. Ugh, it's horrible.

His voice punctures her thoughts. And she's coming to also realize that that's such a Matthew thing to say. She takes a slow breath and lets it out at her leisure. "I don't have to be involved to feel bad about what happened to you." She's just as patient now having come to the realization that Matt really didn't quite get emotion the same way others did.

She opens her mouth to say something about empathy and compassion, but she notes how patronizing that would sound. He knows what those things are, she thinks. He just doesn't quite get them.

"You're acting like they threw me in a snakepit and raped me with a broomhandle," he says dryly.

"Ezera, I dunno what it is you want me to say. That's how I grew up. It's not good or bad, it just is. It doesn't keep me up at night." Most of it dosn't, anyway, but he's not about to admit to any weaknesses.

"Anyway, that first time... it wasn't bad," he goes on, meaning to reassure her. "I mean, I was scared, sure, but at the same time feeling that power...

That guy was an adult, and he never stood a fucking chance with me. In that moment I realised that I was stronger than him. I was stringer than almost everybody."

A pause.

"Even my father. He had what I had, but he wasn't any good with it. I knew I could be."

Maybe not a broom handle, she thinks.

"You don't need to say anything." She weaves her sentence within his, her voice soft enough not to cut him off but to still be heard. "I don't need you to say anything. Iz pressed her lips down. "You grew up without a choice of what you wanted to become. It bother's me, that's all. How would you even know that you want to be doing any of this?"

Oh, man. She takes an even breath. "Your father had your abilities? Where was he in all of this?" She asked curiously. "I mean, when you were abducted along with your sister?" Hell, let's call a spade a spade.

The concept that he may have turned out differently if he'd had another upbringing is one he has never considered deeply. The thought is somehow deeply unsettling to him.

"He did, but shittier. He was one of the test subjects that got dosed without knowing they were going to. All of their offspring manifested much more strongly." Facts that he's comfortable with - even to this day he takes no small amount of pride in the fact that he was the best.

"They shot him in the head when they took us. If he'd been stronger, he would have done more than just blow up a helicopter, wouldn't he?"

OhmyGod. Ezera tried her best to keep her face more on the neutral side, She was no longer a threat that might burst into tears, but she had to deal with the churning ocean of emotions inside her welling up like waves in a storm. Focusing on the street in front of her gives her the illusion that she was just deeply thinking about what he said not fighting an internal battle for control.

So his mother and father were killed on that day. This just kept getting better and better. His own response to it makes her cringe a little. "Sometimes it's not about being stronger. But the limit or stretch of our abilities." Dancer's know this. That wasn't the point. "I'm sure that your father did his best considering that he probably knew that it was the only way to protect his family." Talking about fathers' was hard for her. Her face became unreadable.

Matthew just shrugs.

"I have no doubt he tried his best. He just wasn't good enough. That's what it comes down to."

He sighs. "Family sucks ass."

"Do you blame him?" Maybe she was asking because she was wondering whether she blamed hers for failing them. Or maybe he succeeded in protecting them, actually. Which only made things worse considering how many other lives were ruined because of it.

Ezera chuckles and looks up at Matthew. "Sometimes. But I'd do a lot to get mine back." She pressed her lips together and cantered her head to the side. "Anyway. Doesn't matter! The past is passed!" There was a big bright smile on her face. It was slightly too forced. "If you want, you can be my friend three or four times removed. That's almost like family, right? Acquaintances via seven degrees of separation," she jests. "Close enough?" She quizzes, trying to make him laugh.

"I dunno. No real point in dwelling on the past, is there?"

He raises an eyebrow at her, smiling a little. "You're so full of shit, Ezera. I like you, though."

"No, there isn't." And yet.

She bursts out laughing. And pulls off looking offended and falsely accused at the same time. Gasp, like...gasp. "What? How am I full of shit?" Who, me?

"You know how you are."

He gives her a brief but real smile.

"Pffffft. I know I'm fabulous. That's what I know." She retorts with sass and a flip of one side of her hair over her shoulder as if to say, 'beeeotch, please'. She returns a smile but hers never leaves her face.

They passed another block and she realized that they'd be at her place soon. Ezera nonchalantly looked over her shoulder to see whether there was anyone behind them. She's probably paranoid enough for them both.

He notices her looking around and nudges her.

"We're not being followed," he stage whispers.

"Are you sure?" She whispers back in the same tone. "Because my apartment is coming up and I don't want to have the po-po over for tea."

"Totally sure. I've been checking. I'm a fucking Black Ops motherfucker, nobody's gonna bother you at home."

She snorted out a laugh. "Throw one more 'motherfucker' in there and we'll have a winning rap song on our hands." How's he been checki---oh, right. No, fair. "Guess you did scare him off. Everyone lives today!" She exclaims as if it were a Christmas miracle. Well, except for the guy in jail. There's that. Oh, and the crooked cop. Right.

"Hey, so. You should come to my club sometime. Well, "club" is a bit misleading. It's a modern cabaret in a speakeasy environment." She dug into her purse and brought out a card. "Here's the address."

Edited 2017-11-26 19:00 (UTC)

"Everyone lives," he agrees. He barely remembers that he killed a guy.

He mulls the word 'cabaret' over. Does that mean strippers? It might be rude to ask. He takes her card and nods. "Good cocktails?"

She'd be both glad and annoyed at the question. A lot of people make that mistake. But it gives her the opportunity to launch into cabaret history. To their utter dismay.

"The best artisanal cocktails from the Prohibition period. We're classy joint like that. It's right next to the Red Rum." She looks at him for any indication that he knows the place. "But you do not want to go there. It's not a classy joint. Anyway, we've got Jazz Age live music on Tuesdays, performances, political comedy and a light dinner service. Our main show is on Fridays and Saturdays."

He nods again. 'Show' sounds pretty normal - nothing too racy, he's sure. And he has no issue with jazz.

"Okay. Then I'll go next time I'm allowed out."

Er, unless there was an issue with burlesque? That was Fridays too.

Ezera is really going to have to work on her neutral face because Matthew is breaking her heart.

Allowed out?

Ok, she thinks. Just, let it go. For now. Just let it go.

"Cool." She says, before looking up at the building. "Well, this is me, darling. Can I call you a cab?"

Oh, he was going to have SUCH a problem with that. But it's good for him. Really.

He grins down at her. "Nah. You look after yourself, huh?"

"Why when you're doing an awesome job of it?" She jokes with a small laugh and an eye-roll at herself. "Good night, Matthew. It's been...crazy." She smirks over her shoulder as she waves goodbye. "But at least it wasn't boring."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only