07-22-2013, 06:33 PM
There were a few sort of details in the world Jaxen made a point to keep in his periphery. One strolled by about then, on her way elsewhere in a flutter of diamonds nestled low on her neckline. Another pricked his eyes up and lateral: the tell-tale dot of a camera lens in a corner. Then there was the buzzing vibration of the Wallet in its holster. As the warning was thankfully quiet all night, he'd let himself relax a little. Take his time.
He could spot a woman's drink three sips before it was empty like a hound to the scent. Of course, such a talent did no man a lick of good unless he could identify with a single glance the composition of drink in her hand so to bring her a refill. Unfortunately, Jaxen couldn't smell gin in a juniper store let alone guess specific compositions. He'd have better luck throwing darts blindfolded and stumbling drunk; actually, that he could do. Kind of. So he couldn't identify a drink, but he could get on well with the bartender early. An extra payoff later and while some broad's date was off waiting in line to get her a refill, in swoops Jaxen with a cold glass and succulent garnish. The knight in shining armor. At least, a knight bearing alcohol. Which was about the same thing.
He unfortunately did not spot rent-a-cop so early on as he himself had been. In fact, there were far more fascinating things to monopolize Jaxen's attention than one security guard with a stick up his ass. Although he had not half-bad taste in cigars. In fact, it was the sweet musk of cigar aromas which turned Jax more than the chunk of meat that was -- what did the old man call him? Ahh yes. Mister White. Poor bastard.
He checked out his nails while Mr. White made his show. Which was actually rather impressive. And the extra bit with the snipping of the cigar? Jaxen felt his brows raise in surprise. So much so, Jaxen barked out a short, amused laugh.
"Yeah? Well if that one bothers you again, my good man, you have my full permission to cut off anything you want!"
He double tapped Hood on the chest, hard, with one curled finger. Pretty sure the man wouldn't rip his arm out of his socket for doing so. This one seemed like the sort to like his personal space. He wondered how that sack of skin Denis would take to having things snipped off. He'd probably be adverse to the idea.
But it was the second piece of advice sunk in far more deeply. So much so, Jaxen stood back, looking thoroughly impressed, nodding as he glanced around. He rubbed the shorn stubble on his chin thoughtfully as his mind geared into mental images of barricaded rooms, guards, muscle, and guns. Now, what, private security was threatening he keep to the front door? Actually, come to think of it--
"The front door, huh?"
The door itself wasn't anything outstanding. The usual sort of thing for Nikolskaya street. Security encasing the door probably made it impenetrable. But probably left a lot of room in the bed for when maybe slept over. And that was the sort of niche-specialty Jaxen could fill all night long.
He eye'd the newly lit cigar: the label, the ease by which it took to flame. Then there was the careless way by which Mr. White dropped the ashes and tip. Composed upon the image of the same annoyed man in the bookshop, Jaxen felt he had a decent read on the man sharing his air space.
"Oh come on, Mister White? Is it? What's a mall-cop care about a place like this? Unless your old man's pimping you out to Baccarat on the side? That smells fantastic by the way."
He nodded at the orange glow diffusing in and out of brightness every few moments. "You don't happen to have a third shoved down in some pocket do you?"
Jax grinned expectantly. He had to ask.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Jul 22 2013, 06:36 PM.
He could spot a woman's drink three sips before it was empty like a hound to the scent. Of course, such a talent did no man a lick of good unless he could identify with a single glance the composition of drink in her hand so to bring her a refill. Unfortunately, Jaxen couldn't smell gin in a juniper store let alone guess specific compositions. He'd have better luck throwing darts blindfolded and stumbling drunk; actually, that he could do. Kind of. So he couldn't identify a drink, but he could get on well with the bartender early. An extra payoff later and while some broad's date was off waiting in line to get her a refill, in swoops Jaxen with a cold glass and succulent garnish. The knight in shining armor. At least, a knight bearing alcohol. Which was about the same thing.
He unfortunately did not spot rent-a-cop so early on as he himself had been. In fact, there were far more fascinating things to monopolize Jaxen's attention than one security guard with a stick up his ass. Although he had not half-bad taste in cigars. In fact, it was the sweet musk of cigar aromas which turned Jax more than the chunk of meat that was -- what did the old man call him? Ahh yes. Mister White. Poor bastard.
He checked out his nails while Mr. White made his show. Which was actually rather impressive. And the extra bit with the snipping of the cigar? Jaxen felt his brows raise in surprise. So much so, Jaxen barked out a short, amused laugh.
"Yeah? Well if that one bothers you again, my good man, you have my full permission to cut off anything you want!"
He double tapped Hood on the chest, hard, with one curled finger. Pretty sure the man wouldn't rip his arm out of his socket for doing so. This one seemed like the sort to like his personal space. He wondered how that sack of skin Denis would take to having things snipped off. He'd probably be adverse to the idea.
But it was the second piece of advice sunk in far more deeply. So much so, Jaxen stood back, looking thoroughly impressed, nodding as he glanced around. He rubbed the shorn stubble on his chin thoughtfully as his mind geared into mental images of barricaded rooms, guards, muscle, and guns. Now, what, private security was threatening he keep to the front door? Actually, come to think of it--
"The front door, huh?"
The door itself wasn't anything outstanding. The usual sort of thing for Nikolskaya street. Security encasing the door probably made it impenetrable. But probably left a lot of room in the bed for when maybe slept over. And that was the sort of niche-specialty Jaxen could fill all night long.
He eye'd the newly lit cigar: the label, the ease by which it took to flame. Then there was the careless way by which Mr. White dropped the ashes and tip. Composed upon the image of the same annoyed man in the bookshop, Jaxen felt he had a decent read on the man sharing his air space.
"Oh come on, Mister White? Is it? What's a mall-cop care about a place like this? Unless your old man's pimping you out to Baccarat on the side? That smells fantastic by the way."
He nodded at the orange glow diffusing in and out of brightness every few moments. "You don't happen to have a third shoved down in some pocket do you?"
Jax grinned expectantly. He had to ask.
Edited by Jaxen Marveet, Jul 22 2013, 06:36 PM.