02-14-2017, 07:21 PM
The trek over to this fucking mansion of a house was fairly normal. Jay had his chance to see more of the city - the real city - not just the downtown touristy areas and government buildings. Don't get him wrong, the parks were nice, the river was nice, and the technology practically lived in the sidewalks. Seriously, there was a sidewalk pad that gave him a biometric screen for a dollar if he wanted to purchase it. Mad.
But the real city was the one where people lived and worked. Where schools were sat up and people went to church, if they were into that kind of thing. Bars and restaurants and movie theatres. Grocery stores for crying out loud. Don't get him started on the bloody grocery stores either. Damn chandeliers and marble floors.
The house that Nox showed him to was unbelieveable. Jay had never seen anything so grand or opulent in his life. Even the home of the former french ambassador, while grand from outside, had been stripped bare within, streamlined to only the most functional and basic belongings.
He was eager to peek around the corner when they went through the back door. The kitchen, from what he could see of it, was like something out of a movie. There was little left to see, though, as Nox led them downstairs pretty quick. "Your proprietor, you said? A cop owns a house like this? Damn."
He must be on some pretty hefty payrolls, legitimate and otherwise.
The basement was set up like a mix of a gym and arena. The main bulk of the space was open and the floor rubbered. It would make a good place to practice some hand to hand combat, or even knife moves. Like usual, Jay took a general sweep of the room, examining everything from hidey holes to escape routes to objects that could be used as a weapon if necessary.
Nox handed him a beer, already cold, and Jay watched with some awe as things floated away. He took a load off, as instructed, while Nox disappeared for a few moments and sipped at the beer, careful to not drink too much too fast. It took a lot of beers to affect him, but he wanted to stay sharp. Call it a feeling.
When Nox returned, Jay didn't blame him for switching shirts. But the question he asked pulled his gaze low.
Ok, yeah, time to drink. He took a long swig, downing half the bottle so that the cold burned the back of his throat.
"Yeah. I was thinking about something. Something best not to think about at all."
But the real city was the one where people lived and worked. Where schools were sat up and people went to church, if they were into that kind of thing. Bars and restaurants and movie theatres. Grocery stores for crying out loud. Don't get him started on the bloody grocery stores either. Damn chandeliers and marble floors.
The house that Nox showed him to was unbelieveable. Jay had never seen anything so grand or opulent in his life. Even the home of the former french ambassador, while grand from outside, had been stripped bare within, streamlined to only the most functional and basic belongings.
He was eager to peek around the corner when they went through the back door. The kitchen, from what he could see of it, was like something out of a movie. There was little left to see, though, as Nox led them downstairs pretty quick. "Your proprietor, you said? A cop owns a house like this? Damn."
He must be on some pretty hefty payrolls, legitimate and otherwise.
The basement was set up like a mix of a gym and arena. The main bulk of the space was open and the floor rubbered. It would make a good place to practice some hand to hand combat, or even knife moves. Like usual, Jay took a general sweep of the room, examining everything from hidey holes to escape routes to objects that could be used as a weapon if necessary.
Nox handed him a beer, already cold, and Jay watched with some awe as things floated away. He took a load off, as instructed, while Nox disappeared for a few moments and sipped at the beer, careful to not drink too much too fast. It took a lot of beers to affect him, but he wanted to stay sharp. Call it a feeling.
When Nox returned, Jay didn't blame him for switching shirts. But the question he asked pulled his gaze low.
Ok, yeah, time to drink. He took a long swig, downing half the bottle so that the cold burned the back of his throat.
"Yeah. I was thinking about something. Something best not to think about at all."
Only darkness shows you the light.