Ain´t thinkin bout Thursday or Friday cuz tonight´s a Saturday night
It's Saturday night, and as befits a good old Saturday night, the Luna bar is hopping. The bar's near capacity, and it seems anyone and everyone has turned up, whether to just enjoy a drink or three or for more secretive purposes.
Jack Malone is seated at the far end of the bar, his body half-turned toward the crowd. It's force of habit; seated ( Read more... )
Jack Malone is seated at the far end of the bar, his body half-turned toward the crowd. It's force of habit; seated ( Read more... )
Of course, Jack's been keeping his eye on the only other person (or one of them anyway) here who seems to be keeping track of the exits and whether or not a fight is going to break out. He can admire that in a man, given he's also not quite big on relaxing.
He clears his throat in Malone's general direction and notes as casually as if he were commenting on the weather, "The exit directly behind me would be the most likely strike zone. No cameras, plenty of shadow, and just enough civilians to provide cover, but not enough to invite a stampede should the hit go sour."
He takes a sip of his scotch as if he didn't just make that comment. What? Former spy?
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One eyebrow twitches, and a hint of bemusement curves Jack's mouth. "That's true," he allows. He cants his head nearly imperceptibly at the front entrance. "But I got a lot more experience with morons who get it wrong than with efficient hitmen who get it right, so I always pay special attention to the front door. Morons always come in the front, and cause a scene."
And then he goes on drinking his scotch as if the small talk were merely about the weather or the stock market, not about where murder's likely to break out in the place.
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"Local or federal?" Said in the same tone one might say "Business or pleasure?" when asking why someone's hanging around in Chicago. He's not CIA, that much is sure and certain, and he's a bit too practiced for Jack to even consider local, but, for all he knows, cops in Chicago have upped their game. It wouldn't surprise him. That or he's a wanderer and that's even more likely.
This? This is how Bristow conducts his small talk. By making it about something one does not usually expect small talk to be about and pretending like he's not doing it. For all practical purposes, his eyes have barely left his laptop.
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"You too? Or private sector?" The guy's clearly not a cop of any stripe; security of some sort, or a spy, or some sort of "consultant." Observant and knowledgeable enough to peg Jack for what he is.
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"That's not really the case anymore, so no one in the room has to worry about me killing them for overhearing that," he adds bluntly. And that would be Jack's dry sense of humor coming into play.
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He takes another sip of his scotch, his eyes giving the room a quick scan before he turns his attention back to Bristow. "So what do you do these days? If I can ask."
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"Freelance work, mostly." It's not like you're really permitted to keep secrets like that in Chicago. There's no higher authority keeping tabs on terrorist watchlists and the best he can do is have his kids man up and bust up small crime syndicates until they find a fish worth gutting. "I suppose you have to take what you can get, even if the old days were a bit more... Prosperous. Chicago is nothing without its organized crime, however."
He's gotten so used to one Chicago or another, that he barely remembers what an actual CIA hit looks like.
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He finishes off his scotch, and taps the rim of his glass once he has the bartender's eye, to indicate he wants another. "Ah, yeah. Chicago and organized crime. I've only just transfered in from New York, how are things on that front these days?"
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If it sounds like he wants something to happen… He does. Monsters and people like the CLF are one thing- he’s looking for something he can really sink his teeth into.
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He takes a sip, turning his body ever so slightly more toward Bristow, though not so much so that his view of the entire club is at all compromised. "I hear this city can really take it out of you," he offers in a neutral tone.
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