tampered | closed;

closed;

When; Evening of December 8th ish
Rating; Probably not higher than PG-13
Characters; Isaak Sirko [

defies_reason], Jimmy Darmody [

trenchknives]
Summary; Just talking business in some bar somewhere.
Log;

Isaak is early; punctuality is a tool, as anything else is, but there'd be no gain tonight in making Jimmy wait. For once, he isn't particularly looking to intimidate. Besides that, it's a matter of courtesy: to invite someone out and then show up late might be construed as an insult, and he really is angling for a friendly conversation. A friendly conversation about not-so-friendly matters, perhaps, but that's hardly a reason to be impolite.

So he's there ten minutes before the agreed time, and he's laid claim to a small table in a corner, waiting patiently with a glass and a newspaper, not even watching the door.

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Jimmy shows up on time, cigarette in hand -- he still hasn't gotten over the fact that a fair amount of people around here don't smoke, and, even more strangely, seem to look down on him for doing so -- and looks around the bar. As soon as he spots Isaak, who seems to have settled comfortably in the corner with his newspaper, he heads in that direction, still a little confused by all of this, but willing to give a friendly conversation a shot. Why not, if alcohol's involved?

"Hey," he says, sitting down across from Isaak and taking off his hat.

It's a shame, really, how few men wear hats these days.

Isaak nods toward the bar, finishing his paragraph before he looks up. (Because even if he isn't looking to intimidate, he's not in the habit of interrupting himself for anyone else.)

"Order anything you like."

"Gin 'n tonic, I guess. I know that's kinda a summertime drink, but hell, I kinda wish it were summertime."

With that statement made, he goes to order his drink, then comes back. He's not offended by Isaak taking the time to finish the paragraph he's reading -- he wouldn't leave off mid-sentence, either.

"So. Should I be concerned about some kinda, I dunno, ulterior motive for this?"

By the time he returns, Isaak's paper is neatly folded and set aside.

"I'm merely looking to liven up a dull evening." Take that as you will, Jimmy; though it's rather less flirtatious than his usual cracks.

"Okay, sure."

He takes a sip of his drink, then sets it down on the table. He's been drinking a fair bit lately, but he doesn't want to look too eager by downing the whole thing in one gulp.

"So you're bored. This a constant problem, or just today?"

That's rather a clever question to ask, given how little Isaak has said on the matter. There's the faintest hint of a smile; he has, perhaps, been underestimating Jimmy, based on their first meeting.

"Somewhere between the two," he admits, which really is more than most people would get out of him. Leaning back, he looks down at his drink, thoughtful.

"Tell me, Jimmy: what do you do?"

"What do I do? I, uh, work at the magic store. The one Ginny owns. 'n I guess I do some other stuff on the side, too. Why?"

People often underestimate Jimmy. That's okay by him. He picks up his drink again, takes a long swig, and sets it back down again.

"What sort of stuff on the side?"

He toys idly with his glass, though he doesn't lift it. There's nothing but idle curiosity in his tone.

"Couple friends of mine 'n I own a racehorse. That kinda stuff. Little stuff. Nothin' excitin'."

Idle curiosity, sure. He'd be willing to bet there's something more behind that question, but he doesn't mind answering it. It's not like owning a horse or gambling are exactly illegal or immoral. Besides, Isaak probably wouldn't care if they were.

"No luck providing services to other businesses, hmn?"

There's not even a note of mockery there; all that is water under the bridge. You can't really expect a man who broke three fingers and idly threatened to murder everyone you'd ever loved to balk at anything shady.

"Does your horse make you any money?"

"Not as much money as we hoped."

He ignores the first question for a second, in favor of thinking of a way to come up with an answer to it that doesn't sound pathetic or meaningless.

"I'd like to be providin' services to other businesses, but there just ain't the market for it here like I'd've expected."

"Is that what you do at home?"

Now, still at ease, he takes a sip of his drink.

"Back home I'm a..."

Well, shit, what is he? He has a lot of different jobs.

"I'm a bootlegger, mostly. I got some other business deals, too. Some protection, some extortion, some other, less savory shit. I do what I'm told. That ain't how I wanted it to be, 'n it sure ain't how I thought it was gonna turn out, but I guess I'm just a good little soldier."

That's... remarkably honest. And also somewhat bitter.

Isaak is a great believer in the usefulness of being a good little soldier; as a means rather than an end, of course. A follower is inherently a study of leadership.

But knowing as little as he does about Jimmy's situation, he's disinclined to pass judgment.

"An impressive resumé, which I expect does you little good in the City."

"I was supposed to run Atlantic City someday. That's what they wanted for me, anyway. Wasn't gonna happen, but it was kinda a nice thought while it lasted. 'n yeah, you're right, now I'm stuck here, and there ain't a whole lot to do with those skills. Which is why, y'know, I work in a magic shop."

Not that he dislikes the magic shop. In fact, it's a hell of a lot better of a job than most of the stuff he's done back home. But it's true, it's not at all related to his skill set.

"I run a bar." Isaak shrugs faintly. "There's nothing wrong with a change."

Except when it leaves one restless.

He's not really expecting any opportunity to arise from this; only to test the waters, to see if the younger man knows of anything worth investigating. And to talk shop. He can indulge in a spot of nostalgia if he wants to.

"Yeah, you run a bar. It's kinda different."

He shakes his head. It's not a good idea for him, to keep looking for something else to occupy his time, when he's doing just fine as it is, and mostly staying out of trouble, but he just keeps coming back to the same old issues.

"You wanna do somethin' other than run a bar? You say there's nothin' wrong with a change, but you're askin' me about what I do like you're actually interested, 'n not just makin' conversation."

"I'm not in the habit of letting others take control."

That's not a matter of worth, only experience. Isaak pauses for a moment, contemplating the question.

"In practical terms, I want for very little. But I do get restless."

"Practicality ain't got a whole lot to do with it. It's about satisfaction, too, isn't it? Y'know, if you're not satisfied with what you're doin', you're gonna get restless."

He knows the feeling all too well. The City makes him restless at times, too. He's settled in better than he'd expected he would, but there's still that... itch to do something more.

"I think it's less a matter of satisfaction, and more of confinement."

"Yeah, sure, that's probably true. So what're you gonna do about it?"

There's a slight twitch of smile.

"You're looking at it, I'm afraid."

Which is to say nothing. (Probably.)

"After all, one's resumé is of little relevance here."

"Well, if you ever wanna branch out a little, just know that there's interest. I ain't about to do anythin' flashy, but..."

He shrugs. He's not willing to put himself out there like he used to be. He's not going to be anyone's hired gun anymore. But there're still opportunities, he supposes, if they end up being mutually beneficial.

He hums, considering and noncommittal, over the edge of his glass, meeting Jimmy's eyes.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Okay, you do that. 'n y'know, since you 'n I worked out our differences..."

He's even able to crack a grin about that, because really, he'd deserved having his fingers broken for challenging Isaak in his own territory like that, and it was a mistake he wasn't intending to make again.

"... I think we'd be okay to work together in the future. Should anythin' come up."

No shame in making a mistake, as long as you learn for it. That does win a proper smile from him, though.

"Should anything come up," he agrees.

"Sounds good. 'n maybe I'll drop by the bar sometime, just for a visit."

Sure, he knows what kind of bar it is. And that doesn't bother him too much, surprisingly enough. He has other things to worry about, and if anyone flirts with him that he doesn't want to? Well, he's never been too bad at rejecting people.

Jimmy, you heartbreaker.

"Any time you like."

The world would be truly doomed if Jimmy ever found it in himself to be attracted to men, too.

"I'll see ya around, then. 'n you just let me know if you ever need anythin'."

Anything... potentially illegal. But that goes without saying, of course. He stands, finally setting his glass down on the table.

"You'll be my first call."

Leaning back in his seat, he slides the paper back toward him, still comfortably settled though he won't stay terribly long, on his own.

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