Madrox; Vincent
I'm not entirely certain what I think of Jamie Madrox. There's potential there - I could practically /choke/ on the potential - but I'm not certain any of it will ever be realized. He's a loose cannon in many ways, and if I were a good DA at all I wouldn't encourage him into this position. But I'm not a DA, and my interests are more than a little different. Maybe he'll rise to the challenge. Maybe a dose of this world will bring something else out in him. Maybe he and all his duplicates can be controlled, used, put to work.
There's so much /potential/ there. I can't bear to not at least try, to see. Maybe something can be made of him.
11/15/2007
Jamie usually dresses in a certain fashion-- which is to say trenchcoat, shirt of some type, and dark pants. Today, he is wearing much the same, save he has set aside the trenchcoast for a late-autumn black jacket, low-mid-range and reasonably well tailored for something you buy in a store. Anyway, it's the best he can do. And less likely to look suspicious. He tries to do things proper enough. /Ask/ for the DA at the main desk rather than skulk around the halls. More polite to sign in with the secretary.
Terribly polite. Elizabeth appreciates it, if the warm smile she bears when she exits her office to search out Jamie is any indication. The click of heels heralds her arrival, and she pauses just past the desk to greet him. "Mr. Madrox. This is a surprise."
Madrox offers his hand for a formal shake, if his expression is less formal and more slightly wry. "I thought it'd be more appropriate to show up in person, ma'am."
"Elizabeth, pleas-- oh!" Recognition dawns clearly in her expression as she leans forward for the handshake and then rocks back slightly, smiling. "You must be-- ah. Jamie Prime?"
"Yes." The wryness is briefly accentuated, then it fades into a simple smile as he makes handshake contact. "Finally."
Elizabeth lifts her brows slightly as she studies him, as if searching out any minor differences in appearance or style, and then she steps sideways and sweeps a hand back in invitation toward her office. "Come in, then."
There's little. At least in appearance, save that the limp has lessened, which is like to be generalized across all Madri. Madrox lowers his head once and follows the trajectory of the invitation offie-wise. "Thank you."
Elizabeth doesn't speak again until she's followed him inside and closed the door neatly after them, for privacy. It's not a large office, per se, but it is large enough for a U-desk that bears a laptop computer facing the wall and a smooth expanse of free desk with two comfortable chairs flanking it. One of these is meant for Jamie. Elizabeth takes the chair behind the desk. It's rolly! "So," she says as she settles, smiling slightly. "How does this work, then?"
If Madrox enjoys rolly chairs more than regular chairs (which he must, because everyone does), he allows himself to show no sign. He sits down with every solemnity. Well, light solemnity, still-smiling solemnity. "How do . . . I work?"
"I must admit I'm rather baffled," Elizabeth allows, leaning forward to fold her hands lightly together atop the desk. "I certainly didn't expect this visit."
"Well, after-- all that nonsense with my duplicates, I felt I owed you an explanation in person."
"I see." Elizabeth's hands shift, palms opening in invitation.
"We don't-- we aren't connected. Save on the lightest of levels. As you quite noted, I don't control them." Jamie touches his finger against his forehead. "I don't think their thoughts. And we can lose each other rather easily. That said, it's not usually quite that scattered."
"No?" Elizabeth wonders lightly.
"No." Jamie lowers his fingers and folds his hands. "It'll be going back to normal now."
Madrox teleports in.
"What is normal?"
Jason goes home.
"A good question." A light return of the wry. "Less of me, less far apart, for less time, I guess. Less problems."
"So you have-- ah--" Elizabeth falls silent for a moment as she blinks at him across the table, and then she backtracks to request, "I'm sorry, can you explain to me what it is that you know and recall, and the like?"
"Yeah, uh. Sure." Jamie's hands sort of fold and refold. "We had a long conversation in the Life Cafe, which later prompted me to call you about a certain Leonardo problem. And then you called me--" Too many pronouns. "Another me. I remember those three conversations."
"You remember them? Even though they weren't really-- ah. you?"
"They were me, more or less. I know," Jamie adds, "it's kind of maddening to think out."
"And the duplicates I spoke to?"
Madrox lets out his breath. "Part of me. Absorbed now."
"Absorbed."
"Yeah-- uh. It's hard to explain. They go back into me."
"Goodness." Elizabeth blinks for a moment, studying Jamie. "That must be disconcerting."
"A little. I'm long used to it."
"How do you manage it all?" she wonders curiously.
"I ... really don't know, honestly."
Elizabeth laughs at that, an amused, allowing sound that accompanies a nod. "Well, as long as you do, I suppose."
"I do." Jamie's shrug is high and a little sudden. "I don't always know who did what, but I know the what and the when and that does me well enough."
"One of you mentioned Magneto?" she prods carefully.
Madrox gives Elizabeth a careful glance. The carefulness is a slip and his expression quickly goes simply serious again. "Yeah. We had a run-in."
"And that's why you had so many duplicates out at once," Elizabeth reminds, lightly.
Right. Loose-lipped-- "Yeah. I don't usually make that many."
"You seem to have come out of the encounter relatively okay, though?" Elizabeth prods with a supportive smile.
"A few bruises is all. He was just playing."
"Playing?"
"My power can be entertaining." Jamie tries not to sound sulky. It was rather embarrassing, the whole-- thing. "Apparently."
"As if you were a toy." It's less question than disapproving statement.
"Well. He wouldn't do that now."
"Why not?"
Madrox folds his arms. "I took out one of his. If he comes after me now, it won't be to play."
"Why do you think he did it the first time? I thought Magneto was meant to be about the benefit of all mutants?" Elizabeth notes with a raise of her brows.
Madrox snorts. "Benefit of all mutants? Since when? He's a terrorist." Hint of that passion, quickly there and gone. "But, I mean, it's not like he's the /first/ to make me duplicate for fun. People think it's funny! And hey, it can be."
"No one terrorizes because it's fun," Elizabeth points out mildly. "They do it because they wish to accomplish something-- it doesn't hurt?"
"What he wanted to accomplish is both high-handed and murderous, rather. If you have those kind of views, I don't imagine you end up valuing any life /that/ much-- no. Duplicating doesn't hurt." Madrox adds ruefully, "Being thrown around does."
"Mmm," Elizabeth answers, a thoughtful, non-committal sound as she studies Madrox. "Did you speak to Mutant Affairs?"
"No."
Madrox adds promptly, "Not in detail, anyway."
"Why not?"
"I wasn't outed then."
"Ah." Her head tips slightly in consideration. "Do you regret it, then?"
"I'm sorry." Jamie unfolds his arms to set his elbows against the chair arms. "Regret what?"
"You put a murderer behind bars," Elizabeth explains with a faint smile. "But you also revealed yourself as a mutant and crossed one of the most dangerous men on the planet."
"Yeaaah, that." Jamie's knuckles scratch up under his jawline. "I've had second thoughts. And third and fourth. Not much to be done about it now, though. Magneto hasn't killed me yet."
"Surprised?"
"Yes. Honestly."
"Any thoughts on why he hasn't bothered you again?"
"No. And I'm more worried about Monet." Jamie's hands link under his jaw this time, too casual. "He has bothered her. Didn't kill her though, thank you. But that doesn't mean he won't."
"Did /she/ speak to Mutant Affairs?" Elizabeth wonders pointedly.
"Uh. We were all rather stressed," Jamie demurs. And in Paris.
Elizabeth is silent for a disapproving moment. Then she says, "Will you tell me?"
"All I know is that he showed up in her apartment. Hasn't since. He hasn't bothered me at all." Jamie half-lids his eyes and admits, "To my knowledge."
"At her /apartment/?"
"Yeah. Fun!"
"But she's quite all right?" Elizabeth persists.
"He didn't hurt her. I talked with her right after," Jamie confirms. "Just scared her."
"That seems rather odd, all things considered."
"Agreed, and I don't trust it. Again, he hasn't approached me at all."
"Mm. Well." Elizabeth shifts slightly and then urges, "If you have any sign at all that he may, contact Mutant Affairs. I'm certain they can work something out, in terms of protection for a time."
"I'll protect Monet over myself," comes stubborn from Jamie. "But it's been about a month. Trouble is, if he does come after me or her in earnest, we won't have time to file for help."
"True," Elizabeth allows with a very, very faint smile.
"So we have to be ready. In and of ourselves. Of course, Monet's human and I have a single talent, but there you go."
"Indeed." There's a pause before Elizabeth draws in a breath and resettles herself. "Well," she says. "Did you come just to introduce yourself properly, Mr. Madrox?"
"Well." Jamie's smile returns rueful. "Not entirely. You mentioned an internship. I don't know that one's open. But I did want to follow up on the wake of a small disaster. We are off the Leonardo case, of course."
"Good," Elizabeth approves with a fast smile. "/Good/. That's certainly for the best." She turns, then, a spin in her rolly chair, and moves for her computer. "There is, actually-- you'll have to apply for it, of course, but I think it would be worth your while. We're always looking for students with a certain amount of-- initiative."
"That, I have." Jamie half consciously roooolls his chair forward. "And I'd be happy to apply. If anything, we have a bit too much time on our hands right now."
"We?" Elizabeth glances up from her computer, briefly. "How many of you are there, at the moment?"
"Two." Jamie has to hesitate, though. "Three."
"You can't keep track?" Brows rise disapprovingly.
"I can't be sure." Jamie meets disapproval with flat neutrality. "My duplicates can make duplicates, after all. We've also been missing a duplicate for a month. That's the third. That I'm sure about."
"For a month. That seems exceedingly problematic, Mr. Madrox."
"It is. I'm looking for him." His hands spread. "But when they don't want to come back yet, rare, mind you!, it's a little tricky."
"If you were to come to work for us--" The mouse pauses in its motion as Elizabeth glances toward Jamie. "You'd need to keep in mind that we expect a certain /decorum/ from our students."
Madrox takes in his breath. "Of course. I don't think /he's/ been causing any trouble."
"But you don't know," Elizabeth points out. A click of her mouse, and the printer stirs to life.
"I can't know until I find and absorb him. Or he dies. Or he turns up on the news."
"Mmm," Elizabeth replies as Jamie makes her point for her, and then she slides several print-offs toward him. "Well. The application, if you're interested. There's further information online."
Madrox takes the papers in hand and lightly flips through them. "Thanks. I'll send this in soon." He starts to stand, only to draw another pause. "There's not much I can do," he says. "About not knowing."
"Then it seems to me that you should be more careful from the get-go," Elizabeth suggests, standing to match him.
"That's why I'm only in two places tonight." Madrox shifts the papers all to one hand to offer the other. "Thank you for meeting with me."
"Of course. And Jamie - please. Don't hesitate to call if you find yourself in a difficulty, okay?" Elizabeth encourages. She leans forward to take the hand warmly.
Madrox shakes it once, briskly, with a ghost of his more informal smirk, then gone. "I think I'll be okay. But yes, I'll keep you in mind."
"Excellent. Then I'll wish you good luck and send you on your way, shall I?"
"And I'll wish you a good night." He withdraws his hand and shakes the application. "Thanks again."
"You're quite welcome," Elizabeth assures. "I look forward to seeing your application."
"May it be worth it." Oh, there's the smirk. And with that, Madrox sketches a half bow, and starts to withdraw.
Elizabeth remains standing until he has exited entirely before she turns back to her computer, where she sits staring blankly at the screen for a long moment before returning to her work.
Madrox makes his exit quietly, only allowing himself to whistle between his teeth when he's out of the building. Brief stress tic, and then we're good.
Madrox introduces himself.
11/16/2007
The lobby of the department is cold from the constant churn of outside air in through the doors, and as a result, many of the uniforms milling around are in jackets. Vincent is not one of them -- a spec of brown in a sea of blue that shoulders his way rudely from Homicide to Mutant Affairs with a file in hand. "Out of the way, assholes!"
Seated to one side of Detective Lazzaro's desk is a tall woman, dark-haired and slender and apparently unnoticing of the gusts of air that sweep into the office proper whenever someone moves in or out. A short-sleeved blouse of cream is tucked into a neatly tailored A-line skirt, clear lawyer-wear, and her hands are folded over the notepad propped on her knees as she waits.
Not quite dapper in a brown suit and a darker tie, Vincent glances over her and flops his file down onto the desk before her before he moves around to drop himself down behind it. "Great. What do you want?"
"Are you this friendly to everyone?" Elizabeth wonders with mild amusement, lips twitching with private laughter that goes otherwise unexpressed.
"Only to lawyers." Maintaining his lack of amusement in contrast, Vincent looks her over again before reaching back for the file and flicking it open so that he can glance through the contents.
Elizabeth shifts toward him slightly, legs uncrossing and then crossing again as she considers the man beside her. "Because you'd prefer a world in which we just throw everyone in jail and toss away the key?" she wonders.
"No. Just the guilty ones." Vincent gives her a 'duh' look, forehead wrinkled, and opens a drawer enough to slide the file in while he watches her.
"Your logic is astounding," Elizabeth notes. A moment's pause, and then she leans forward to rest one elbow light against his desk, back slumping just slightly. "I had a visit from a Jamie Madrox the other day," she shares abruptly.
"Cute kid," says Vincent without much pause given for his responses. At least until the next one, where he lifts a brow before tacking on, "Kids. Whatever."
Elizabeth's response is a brief snort of laughter as she settles her chin into the cup of her hand, slender fingers resting light against her cheek. "Why do you say so?"
"He thinks he's a detective, right? Gets one of his selves killed playing cowboys and indians. It's adorable." Only a little sarcastic, and still eyeing her warily, Vincent reaches to prop open the flat screen of his laptop.
Elizabeth straightens a touch and gifts Vincent with an expression of clear patience. "Thank you. Now that you've expressed yourself through sarcasm, might I request an /actual/ opinion?"
"I asked you what you wanted and you were too busy being self-righteous at me to give an answer." Just his eyes visible over the laptop's raised back, Vincent sits up a little straighter as well, then reaches to push it back down enough that he isn't hiding behind it. "An opinion on what? Jamie?"
"What I want," Elizabeth supplies, articulating each word with excesive clarity, "Is an opinion on Jamie Madrox. Yes." To begin, anyway.
"I haven't met him face to face, but I've seen him around. He's a good kid. Nice guy. Just young. Doesn't really know what it's about. Well. I guess he probably has a better idea /now/..." Vincent leans back and lifts a hand to rub at the back of his head. It is bald. "He needs to be careful."
"I quite agree," Elizabeth answers with a brief smile. "He mentioned to me an incident he was witness to-- I believe there was a police report? It would have been a Magneto sighting, in Central Park. Within the last month or two, I think."
"Within the last month or two? Within the last two weeks, he tried to kill him. Or he said he was going to. Rossi was there." Vincent gestures to an empty desk, then closes the laptop completely, resigned to the fact that he's not going to get any work done while she's sitting there. "I dunno which one it was. Pain in the ass, in terms of the paperwork."
Elizabeth straightens slightly, posture going from lazy relaxed to professional concern in an instant. "Within the last two weeks? Jamie mentioned that there'd been a visit, but he didn't seem concerned--"
"Whatever Jamie was there at the time ran the fuck away, so maybe he's the one you should talk to. Maybe they don't communicate so good." Pure speculation on Vincent's part, as indicated by a slight squint. "Or maybe he thinks you're hot and he's trying to impress you. Like I said -- I've never actually met him."
"They don't," Elizabeth shares dryly. "However, I'm told there are somewhat fewer of them these days--" The last earns a startled laugh and Elizabeth raises her chin just slightly. "I tend to intimidate teenage boys rather than attract them-- do you know what happened?"
"I read the report. They crossed paths at a bar, Lensherr went after him, Rossi stepped in and saved the day. Lensherr said he would count to ten, then kill him. Jamie ran, and the big guy didn't make it past two. So." Vincent lifts a hand in a vague 'whatever' gesture. "Rossi nearly got shot in the head by a Russian guy. What is this for?"
"So the boy has some amount of common sense," Elizabeth muses approvingly. She looks distracted for a moment, teeth tugging at her lower lip in thought, and then she straightens a touch and shakes her head. "Curiousity, in large part," she admits. "But I believe he also intends to put in an application for one of our intern positions. He would be-- a risk, in some ways, I think."
"A curious lawyer." Sarcasm returned in force, brows level, Vincent reaches to straighten his tie. He is having a hard time keeping his hands still. "It might do him some good to see how boring reality is in the spaces between terrorist driven interludes. Giving him something to do might also cut down on stupid deaths."
"How many has he racked up to this point, that you know of?" Elizabeth wonders, quite pointedly ignoring any side comments.
"Twice." Paired fingers are held up in a helpful visual illustration. "A bodega fell on one of the other ones."
"Mmm." Elizabeth falls silent for a moment, attention lost to contemplation, and her fingers tap lightly against the edge of Vincent's desk.
"Being everywhere at once isn't all it's cracked out to be," is Vincent's opinion on the matter, and at the tapping, he glances down before reaching to pry his laptop all the way back open.
"I wouldn't think so," Elizabeth allows. Her gaze returns to him, and she falls silent for another moment. This time she watches him.
For all that he seems intent upon brushing her off, Vincent watches back. He seems well-rested and alert enough to have a hint of suspicion lingering around his eyes and the line of his mouth. Lawyers are apparently not his favorite. "Anything else?"
Elizabeth never would have guessed. She lets his question linger in the air for a moment, unanswered, before she smiles just slightly and prompts, "Magneto sighting, Central Park?"
"Which one?" It is possible that he is being deliberately obtuse.
It is possible that Elizabeth suspects this and responds with dry silence.
"He showed up, terrorized some chick with green hair, and then left." Vincent shrugs. Not much to it.
"Some chick with green hair?"
"Yep."
Elizabeth's brows lift in mild exasperation. "And by terrorized, you mean--?"
"I read the report two months ago, lady, and it wasn't my investigation. I don't remember the specifics. What does this have to do with Jamie Madrox?" Both eyes are narrowed now, and Vincent's jaw has taken on a rather stubborn set.
Rather than replying, Elizabeth simply rises, fast and smooth. She brushes brunette waves over her shoulder and then sweeps her hand down her side, smoothing the tuck of her shirt and the fit of her skirt over her hips. "Thank you," she responds politely. "You've been very helpful."
"Yeah, no problem." Expression and tone directly contradictory to this reply, Vincent watches the skirt smooth with a look that borders upon cranky before he turns his attention pointedly down onto his laptop.
With her back turned, Elizabeth allows herself the freedom of a heartfelt eyeroll before she departs to more friendly locales.
Mystique has a few questions about her new intern-to-be.
There's so much /potential/ there. I can't bear to not at least try, to see. Maybe something can be made of him.
11/15/2007
Jamie usually dresses in a certain fashion-- which is to say trenchcoat, shirt of some type, and dark pants. Today, he is wearing much the same, save he has set aside the trenchcoast for a late-autumn black jacket, low-mid-range and reasonably well tailored for something you buy in a store. Anyway, it's the best he can do. And less likely to look suspicious. He tries to do things proper enough. /Ask/ for the DA at the main desk rather than skulk around the halls. More polite to sign in with the secretary.
Terribly polite. Elizabeth appreciates it, if the warm smile she bears when she exits her office to search out Jamie is any indication. The click of heels heralds her arrival, and she pauses just past the desk to greet him. "Mr. Madrox. This is a surprise."
Madrox offers his hand for a formal shake, if his expression is less formal and more slightly wry. "I thought it'd be more appropriate to show up in person, ma'am."
"Elizabeth, pleas-- oh!" Recognition dawns clearly in her expression as she leans forward for the handshake and then rocks back slightly, smiling. "You must be-- ah. Jamie Prime?"
"Yes." The wryness is briefly accentuated, then it fades into a simple smile as he makes handshake contact. "Finally."
Elizabeth lifts her brows slightly as she studies him, as if searching out any minor differences in appearance or style, and then she steps sideways and sweeps a hand back in invitation toward her office. "Come in, then."
There's little. At least in appearance, save that the limp has lessened, which is like to be generalized across all Madri. Madrox lowers his head once and follows the trajectory of the invitation offie-wise. "Thank you."
Elizabeth doesn't speak again until she's followed him inside and closed the door neatly after them, for privacy. It's not a large office, per se, but it is large enough for a U-desk that bears a laptop computer facing the wall and a smooth expanse of free desk with two comfortable chairs flanking it. One of these is meant for Jamie. Elizabeth takes the chair behind the desk. It's rolly! "So," she says as she settles, smiling slightly. "How does this work, then?"
If Madrox enjoys rolly chairs more than regular chairs (which he must, because everyone does), he allows himself to show no sign. He sits down with every solemnity. Well, light solemnity, still-smiling solemnity. "How do . . . I work?"
"I must admit I'm rather baffled," Elizabeth allows, leaning forward to fold her hands lightly together atop the desk. "I certainly didn't expect this visit."
"Well, after-- all that nonsense with my duplicates, I felt I owed you an explanation in person."
"I see." Elizabeth's hands shift, palms opening in invitation.
"We don't-- we aren't connected. Save on the lightest of levels. As you quite noted, I don't control them." Jamie touches his finger against his forehead. "I don't think their thoughts. And we can lose each other rather easily. That said, it's not usually quite that scattered."
"No?" Elizabeth wonders lightly.
"No." Jamie lowers his fingers and folds his hands. "It'll be going back to normal now."
Madrox teleports in.
"What is normal?"
Jason goes home.
"A good question." A light return of the wry. "Less of me, less far apart, for less time, I guess. Less problems."
"So you have-- ah--" Elizabeth falls silent for a moment as she blinks at him across the table, and then she backtracks to request, "I'm sorry, can you explain to me what it is that you know and recall, and the like?"
"Yeah, uh. Sure." Jamie's hands sort of fold and refold. "We had a long conversation in the Life Cafe, which later prompted me to call you about a certain Leonardo problem. And then you called me--" Too many pronouns. "Another me. I remember those three conversations."
"You remember them? Even though they weren't really-- ah. you?"
"They were me, more or less. I know," Jamie adds, "it's kind of maddening to think out."
"And the duplicates I spoke to?"
Madrox lets out his breath. "Part of me. Absorbed now."
"Absorbed."
"Yeah-- uh. It's hard to explain. They go back into me."
"Goodness." Elizabeth blinks for a moment, studying Jamie. "That must be disconcerting."
"A little. I'm long used to it."
"How do you manage it all?" she wonders curiously.
"I ... really don't know, honestly."
Elizabeth laughs at that, an amused, allowing sound that accompanies a nod. "Well, as long as you do, I suppose."
"I do." Jamie's shrug is high and a little sudden. "I don't always know who did what, but I know the what and the when and that does me well enough."
"One of you mentioned Magneto?" she prods carefully.
Madrox gives Elizabeth a careful glance. The carefulness is a slip and his expression quickly goes simply serious again. "Yeah. We had a run-in."
"And that's why you had so many duplicates out at once," Elizabeth reminds, lightly.
Right. Loose-lipped-- "Yeah. I don't usually make that many."
"You seem to have come out of the encounter relatively okay, though?" Elizabeth prods with a supportive smile.
"A few bruises is all. He was just playing."
"Playing?"
"My power can be entertaining." Jamie tries not to sound sulky. It was rather embarrassing, the whole-- thing. "Apparently."
"As if you were a toy." It's less question than disapproving statement.
"Well. He wouldn't do that now."
"Why not?"
Madrox folds his arms. "I took out one of his. If he comes after me now, it won't be to play."
"Why do you think he did it the first time? I thought Magneto was meant to be about the benefit of all mutants?" Elizabeth notes with a raise of her brows.
Madrox snorts. "Benefit of all mutants? Since when? He's a terrorist." Hint of that passion, quickly there and gone. "But, I mean, it's not like he's the /first/ to make me duplicate for fun. People think it's funny! And hey, it can be."
"No one terrorizes because it's fun," Elizabeth points out mildly. "They do it because they wish to accomplish something-- it doesn't hurt?"
"What he wanted to accomplish is both high-handed and murderous, rather. If you have those kind of views, I don't imagine you end up valuing any life /that/ much-- no. Duplicating doesn't hurt." Madrox adds ruefully, "Being thrown around does."
"Mmm," Elizabeth answers, a thoughtful, non-committal sound as she studies Madrox. "Did you speak to Mutant Affairs?"
"No."
Madrox adds promptly, "Not in detail, anyway."
"Why not?"
"I wasn't outed then."
"Ah." Her head tips slightly in consideration. "Do you regret it, then?"
"I'm sorry." Jamie unfolds his arms to set his elbows against the chair arms. "Regret what?"
"You put a murderer behind bars," Elizabeth explains with a faint smile. "But you also revealed yourself as a mutant and crossed one of the most dangerous men on the planet."
"Yeaaah, that." Jamie's knuckles scratch up under his jawline. "I've had second thoughts. And third and fourth. Not much to be done about it now, though. Magneto hasn't killed me yet."
"Surprised?"
"Yes. Honestly."
"Any thoughts on why he hasn't bothered you again?"
"No. And I'm more worried about Monet." Jamie's hands link under his jaw this time, too casual. "He has bothered her. Didn't kill her though, thank you. But that doesn't mean he won't."
"Did /she/ speak to Mutant Affairs?" Elizabeth wonders pointedly.
"Uh. We were all rather stressed," Jamie demurs. And in Paris.
Elizabeth is silent for a disapproving moment. Then she says, "Will you tell me?"
"All I know is that he showed up in her apartment. Hasn't since. He hasn't bothered me at all." Jamie half-lids his eyes and admits, "To my knowledge."
"At her /apartment/?"
"Yeah. Fun!"
"But she's quite all right?" Elizabeth persists.
"He didn't hurt her. I talked with her right after," Jamie confirms. "Just scared her."
"That seems rather odd, all things considered."
"Agreed, and I don't trust it. Again, he hasn't approached me at all."
"Mm. Well." Elizabeth shifts slightly and then urges, "If you have any sign at all that he may, contact Mutant Affairs. I'm certain they can work something out, in terms of protection for a time."
"I'll protect Monet over myself," comes stubborn from Jamie. "But it's been about a month. Trouble is, if he does come after me or her in earnest, we won't have time to file for help."
"True," Elizabeth allows with a very, very faint smile.
"So we have to be ready. In and of ourselves. Of course, Monet's human and I have a single talent, but there you go."
"Indeed." There's a pause before Elizabeth draws in a breath and resettles herself. "Well," she says. "Did you come just to introduce yourself properly, Mr. Madrox?"
"Well." Jamie's smile returns rueful. "Not entirely. You mentioned an internship. I don't know that one's open. But I did want to follow up on the wake of a small disaster. We are off the Leonardo case, of course."
"Good," Elizabeth approves with a fast smile. "/Good/. That's certainly for the best." She turns, then, a spin in her rolly chair, and moves for her computer. "There is, actually-- you'll have to apply for it, of course, but I think it would be worth your while. We're always looking for students with a certain amount of-- initiative."
"That, I have." Jamie half consciously roooolls his chair forward. "And I'd be happy to apply. If anything, we have a bit too much time on our hands right now."
"We?" Elizabeth glances up from her computer, briefly. "How many of you are there, at the moment?"
"Two." Jamie has to hesitate, though. "Three."
"You can't keep track?" Brows rise disapprovingly.
"I can't be sure." Jamie meets disapproval with flat neutrality. "My duplicates can make duplicates, after all. We've also been missing a duplicate for a month. That's the third. That I'm sure about."
"For a month. That seems exceedingly problematic, Mr. Madrox."
"It is. I'm looking for him." His hands spread. "But when they don't want to come back yet, rare, mind you!, it's a little tricky."
"If you were to come to work for us--" The mouse pauses in its motion as Elizabeth glances toward Jamie. "You'd need to keep in mind that we expect a certain /decorum/ from our students."
Madrox takes in his breath. "Of course. I don't think /he's/ been causing any trouble."
"But you don't know," Elizabeth points out. A click of her mouse, and the printer stirs to life.
"I can't know until I find and absorb him. Or he dies. Or he turns up on the news."
"Mmm," Elizabeth replies as Jamie makes her point for her, and then she slides several print-offs toward him. "Well. The application, if you're interested. There's further information online."
Madrox takes the papers in hand and lightly flips through them. "Thanks. I'll send this in soon." He starts to stand, only to draw another pause. "There's not much I can do," he says. "About not knowing."
"Then it seems to me that you should be more careful from the get-go," Elizabeth suggests, standing to match him.
"That's why I'm only in two places tonight." Madrox shifts the papers all to one hand to offer the other. "Thank you for meeting with me."
"Of course. And Jamie - please. Don't hesitate to call if you find yourself in a difficulty, okay?" Elizabeth encourages. She leans forward to take the hand warmly.
Madrox shakes it once, briskly, with a ghost of his more informal smirk, then gone. "I think I'll be okay. But yes, I'll keep you in mind."
"Excellent. Then I'll wish you good luck and send you on your way, shall I?"
"And I'll wish you a good night." He withdraws his hand and shakes the application. "Thanks again."
"You're quite welcome," Elizabeth assures. "I look forward to seeing your application."
"May it be worth it." Oh, there's the smirk. And with that, Madrox sketches a half bow, and starts to withdraw.
Elizabeth remains standing until he has exited entirely before she turns back to her computer, where she sits staring blankly at the screen for a long moment before returning to her work.
Madrox makes his exit quietly, only allowing himself to whistle between his teeth when he's out of the building. Brief stress tic, and then we're good.
Madrox introduces himself.
11/16/2007
The lobby of the department is cold from the constant churn of outside air in through the doors, and as a result, many of the uniforms milling around are in jackets. Vincent is not one of them -- a spec of brown in a sea of blue that shoulders his way rudely from Homicide to Mutant Affairs with a file in hand. "Out of the way, assholes!"
Seated to one side of Detective Lazzaro's desk is a tall woman, dark-haired and slender and apparently unnoticing of the gusts of air that sweep into the office proper whenever someone moves in or out. A short-sleeved blouse of cream is tucked into a neatly tailored A-line skirt, clear lawyer-wear, and her hands are folded over the notepad propped on her knees as she waits.
Not quite dapper in a brown suit and a darker tie, Vincent glances over her and flops his file down onto the desk before her before he moves around to drop himself down behind it. "Great. What do you want?"
"Are you this friendly to everyone?" Elizabeth wonders with mild amusement, lips twitching with private laughter that goes otherwise unexpressed.
"Only to lawyers." Maintaining his lack of amusement in contrast, Vincent looks her over again before reaching back for the file and flicking it open so that he can glance through the contents.
Elizabeth shifts toward him slightly, legs uncrossing and then crossing again as she considers the man beside her. "Because you'd prefer a world in which we just throw everyone in jail and toss away the key?" she wonders.
"No. Just the guilty ones." Vincent gives her a 'duh' look, forehead wrinkled, and opens a drawer enough to slide the file in while he watches her.
"Your logic is astounding," Elizabeth notes. A moment's pause, and then she leans forward to rest one elbow light against his desk, back slumping just slightly. "I had a visit from a Jamie Madrox the other day," she shares abruptly.
"Cute kid," says Vincent without much pause given for his responses. At least until the next one, where he lifts a brow before tacking on, "Kids. Whatever."
Elizabeth's response is a brief snort of laughter as she settles her chin into the cup of her hand, slender fingers resting light against her cheek. "Why do you say so?"
"He thinks he's a detective, right? Gets one of his selves killed playing cowboys and indians. It's adorable." Only a little sarcastic, and still eyeing her warily, Vincent reaches to prop open the flat screen of his laptop.
Elizabeth straightens a touch and gifts Vincent with an expression of clear patience. "Thank you. Now that you've expressed yourself through sarcasm, might I request an /actual/ opinion?"
"I asked you what you wanted and you were too busy being self-righteous at me to give an answer." Just his eyes visible over the laptop's raised back, Vincent sits up a little straighter as well, then reaches to push it back down enough that he isn't hiding behind it. "An opinion on what? Jamie?"
"What I want," Elizabeth supplies, articulating each word with excesive clarity, "Is an opinion on Jamie Madrox. Yes." To begin, anyway.
"I haven't met him face to face, but I've seen him around. He's a good kid. Nice guy. Just young. Doesn't really know what it's about. Well. I guess he probably has a better idea /now/..." Vincent leans back and lifts a hand to rub at the back of his head. It is bald. "He needs to be careful."
"I quite agree," Elizabeth answers with a brief smile. "He mentioned to me an incident he was witness to-- I believe there was a police report? It would have been a Magneto sighting, in Central Park. Within the last month or two, I think."
"Within the last month or two? Within the last two weeks, he tried to kill him. Or he said he was going to. Rossi was there." Vincent gestures to an empty desk, then closes the laptop completely, resigned to the fact that he's not going to get any work done while she's sitting there. "I dunno which one it was. Pain in the ass, in terms of the paperwork."
Elizabeth straightens slightly, posture going from lazy relaxed to professional concern in an instant. "Within the last two weeks? Jamie mentioned that there'd been a visit, but he didn't seem concerned--"
"Whatever Jamie was there at the time ran the fuck away, so maybe he's the one you should talk to. Maybe they don't communicate so good." Pure speculation on Vincent's part, as indicated by a slight squint. "Or maybe he thinks you're hot and he's trying to impress you. Like I said -- I've never actually met him."
"They don't," Elizabeth shares dryly. "However, I'm told there are somewhat fewer of them these days--" The last earns a startled laugh and Elizabeth raises her chin just slightly. "I tend to intimidate teenage boys rather than attract them-- do you know what happened?"
"I read the report. They crossed paths at a bar, Lensherr went after him, Rossi stepped in and saved the day. Lensherr said he would count to ten, then kill him. Jamie ran, and the big guy didn't make it past two. So." Vincent lifts a hand in a vague 'whatever' gesture. "Rossi nearly got shot in the head by a Russian guy. What is this for?"
"So the boy has some amount of common sense," Elizabeth muses approvingly. She looks distracted for a moment, teeth tugging at her lower lip in thought, and then she straightens a touch and shakes her head. "Curiousity, in large part," she admits. "But I believe he also intends to put in an application for one of our intern positions. He would be-- a risk, in some ways, I think."
"A curious lawyer." Sarcasm returned in force, brows level, Vincent reaches to straighten his tie. He is having a hard time keeping his hands still. "It might do him some good to see how boring reality is in the spaces between terrorist driven interludes. Giving him something to do might also cut down on stupid deaths."
"How many has he racked up to this point, that you know of?" Elizabeth wonders, quite pointedly ignoring any side comments.
"Twice." Paired fingers are held up in a helpful visual illustration. "A bodega fell on one of the other ones."
"Mmm." Elizabeth falls silent for a moment, attention lost to contemplation, and her fingers tap lightly against the edge of Vincent's desk.
"Being everywhere at once isn't all it's cracked out to be," is Vincent's opinion on the matter, and at the tapping, he glances down before reaching to pry his laptop all the way back open.
"I wouldn't think so," Elizabeth allows. Her gaze returns to him, and she falls silent for another moment. This time she watches him.
For all that he seems intent upon brushing her off, Vincent watches back. He seems well-rested and alert enough to have a hint of suspicion lingering around his eyes and the line of his mouth. Lawyers are apparently not his favorite. "Anything else?"
Elizabeth never would have guessed. She lets his question linger in the air for a moment, unanswered, before she smiles just slightly and prompts, "Magneto sighting, Central Park?"
"Which one?" It is possible that he is being deliberately obtuse.
It is possible that Elizabeth suspects this and responds with dry silence.
"He showed up, terrorized some chick with green hair, and then left." Vincent shrugs. Not much to it.
"Some chick with green hair?"
"Yep."
Elizabeth's brows lift in mild exasperation. "And by terrorized, you mean--?"
"I read the report two months ago, lady, and it wasn't my investigation. I don't remember the specifics. What does this have to do with Jamie Madrox?" Both eyes are narrowed now, and Vincent's jaw has taken on a rather stubborn set.
Rather than replying, Elizabeth simply rises, fast and smooth. She brushes brunette waves over her shoulder and then sweeps her hand down her side, smoothing the tuck of her shirt and the fit of her skirt over her hips. "Thank you," she responds politely. "You've been very helpful."
"Yeah, no problem." Expression and tone directly contradictory to this reply, Vincent watches the skirt smooth with a look that borders upon cranky before he turns his attention pointedly down onto his laptop.
With her back turned, Elizabeth allows herself the freedom of a heartfelt eyeroll before she departs to more friendly locales.
Mystique has a few questions about her new intern-to-be.