( there's bruising around his eyes, in the traditional haven't slept in four years way; a few scratches on his neck, old bruises along cheek bones. the bandages that had been covering his chest have been removed, replaced with butterfly bandaids which are. a little harder to see through the skin-tight tank he wears under a jacket despite how fucking hot it is outside lately. it's a thinner jacket, at least; not the faux leather he usually wears but softish cotton, torn at the sleeves with threads hanging down from the bottom. faux leather gloves cover hands, because like hell is jason risking anyone of their mix-matched group touching skin and causing emotion shares.
easier just to keep himself covered. the flush is met with a wider grin, before jason turns himself back around towards the bar. raises his glass and rotates a wrist to stir the whiskey inside. )
All this work to avoid me, when we could've been enjoying good whiskey together this whole time. ( another way of saying of course that's what he has. jason offers his own glass, holds it towards fitz. ) Figured if we were going out for beer, I'd get something a little stronger while I waited.
Dicky wasn't over exaggerating how cute your accent is, either.
[ fitz thinks, at least, that he knows similar types to jason. well, he knew one man, in particular, pushing his buttons. not so many years ago, ward might have bothered him like this, albeit with less overt flirtation, waiting in fitz's room for want of entertainment (or maybe just to stave off the loneliness). towering and teasing, too, like this.
that experience means he doesn't hesitate, tipping the glass to enjoy generous swig without seizing jason's drink, unafraid of the intimacy, despite his general misgivings about this entire sequence of events. and thank god he did 'cause, jesus christ, he's going to fire dick grayson. all press is bad press, especially the sort being volleyed back in his face now.
buying himself time to answer (and obscuring the stupid, traitorous flush), he drags a hand across his jaw. ]
Yanks are easy to impress. [ dry as anything. ] Or amuse, in your case.
[ he huffs. ]
So, were you hoping I'd entertain you, [ gesturing between them. ] or is this about scoring points in a pissing contest?
[ why does anyone even care if he has a poor opinion of them, anyway. he's just the grouchy tech monkey. ]
( jason would agree: all press is bad press but in this case, it works to his advantage. dick called fitz out publicly to jason, jason cornered him into finally coming out and meeting up face to face. fitz has information, and a variety of it from what he's heard of him. the invite to shady bars that were enough to get into fight rings, what he has heard around this bar in particular. )
Leopold, I had my eye on you way before Grayson came along. ( yes it's about dick but it started before dick so it's only slightly about him. just a little. )
And it seems like you've gotten yourself in well here, haven't you? ( a gesture around the bar, to it's patrons. ) You always bring your dates here?
( he wants the info behind the gang, but jason knows better than to start asking big questions. )
[ again with the leopold. a sideways glance, as if jason having asked after him slots neatly into his appraisal. ]
Only the mouthy ones. [ meant beyond the obvious dig: it's always loud here, so you can speak freely. ]
[ he sighs, flagging down the bartender with a raised hand to put a beer on jason's tab. if they're going to dance like this, he needs a drink. a tip of his head this way and that follows, considering jason's inquiry. then, mildly — ] I know how to handle myself.
[ fitz laid out his credentials on the network, making his ability to integrate with the gangs more understandable, if still surprising to anyone who has spoken to him, well, ever. he has more settings than most people see, at least after recent events. ]
Friends? No. ( not any one he would admit to. certainly not any natives, not yet. he had plans, but they were momentarily delayed by figuring out what the hell is inside his chest. little hard to get into the nitty gritty of the underworld when your body's full of holes.
but jason has full intentions of getting right back on that train once he's back at 100%. not quite yet, but soon. )
Had some family shit came up that took some precedence over my previously voiced plans. ( dick's arrival kind of fucks him over too, the shit. he's always judging what jason's getting into, on his ass about stupid bullcrap. and jason hasn't found his stride with dick yet. where his limits lie specifically. it makes getting into his own plans hard. not impossible, because he'll go with them anyway, but harder. )
Don't suppose your gang is looking for a few more lackeys.
( he asks, but doubts fitz is going to share. especially considering the kind of shit jason intends to get into, and he hasn't been quiet about it. )
[ the not-quite-question disarms him. see, fitz likes to be the smart guy, with answers and advice up his sleeves. he, too, has recently begun pushing for a network of operatives, scattered across the local organisations: pitching noctis on the nafd, nudging rey towards that or giles bell, and recruiting illya to fight for one of the gangs, as yet to be decided. he may be the techie, but he’s also the guy who managed to become the de facto head of the most feared organisation on his earth.
his beer arrives, and fitz takes a generous swig, considering the remark with a measured seriousness. a brief thought is spared for the ethics of aiding dick’s younger brother to integrate himself with the underground. they hardly seem disparate in age, though fitz has got over half a decade on both of them. something about jason feels young, as if he has more to prove. ]
[ evenly — ] I’m in the market for allies, not lackeys.
[ and maybe not friends, either. unabashedly, fitz sharpens his focus on jason, keen to gauge his reaction. ]
Provided you’re interested. [ canting his head. his mouth quirks, privately amused. ] I don’t do unrequited.
[ an offer for intel, advice, even teamwork — but only if there’s something to be had in return. ]
( fitz is clever. smart. knows what he's talking about. jason hasn't known him very long but he's been going back through the network logs, gathering intel about those who have been stuck here along with them. the immediate openness regarding his own connections down here caught him off guard, momentarily. what kind of dude just shares that he has connections with this bit of the underground? the corners of his lips shift up into a small smirk as he raises the whiskey glass back up to his lips, finishes off what's left in the glass,
waves the bartender over for a beer. )
Sounds fair to me. ( voice even. jason keeps his eyes leveled on fitz' own. looks fairly nonchalant, even if he's running through a dozen questions inside his head. ) Tell me, Mr. Fitz: what are you after?
( leaning in a little closer, a mischievous glint behind dull blue eyes. )
[ this time, fitz holds his ground. he can work with a bargain far better than aimless teasing. business is easy. ]
Information. [ i like knowing things. ] The more we know, the clearer our plan going forward. [ the same thing he said before, only it should be obvious now that he means it. intel on gang involvement in their situation, on the creature carcasses still circulating the black market, and higher still, on the rich individuals servicing the crime families. people like that may very well be patronising other questionable causes, including human experimentation and trafficking. ]
Now, [ rolling a hand, utterly casual. ] the Hi-Jacks wouldn’t suit you. [ no need to lower his voice. this is their territory, fit-for-purpose. ] Mechanically-inclined, merit-based, neutral in all disputes. [ manifold uses for him; not so, for others. he feigns an interest in fixing jason’s collar, and his tone drops. despite perking at the name of the gang, the bartender looks away and spies another order to take, uninclined to linger on apparent flirtation. really, fitz oughta thank jason for setting up a cover with his flirty bullshit. ]
You’ll want the Kings or Warlocks. Maybe the 66. [ a light tug on the jacket, bringing them closer, though his features remain schooled into neutrality. ] S’likely someone has an eye on you, anyway, if you’ve made yourself a familiar face or had a start in the fighting rings. [ jason’s a tank, like illya, built for taking hits and executing knockbacks. doubtful he has the credits to join the races with a vehicle of his own or the mechanical know-how to tech for those — let alone the botfights. fitz wouldn't last in the ring, for that matter. play to your type, mate. ] As I understand it, they all have ties to the big crime families.
[ it’s advice as much as intel, angled to ensure the population of anomalies embeds individuals in every organisation. even in this, fitz believes that offering more is the move. omissions should be strategic or necessary, used sparingly enough that no one suspects you of being the withholding sort. and as he sees it, he can only gain something from this conversation. even if jason stirs shit with the gangs, it'll draw attention away from rumours of the vigilantes with glowing chests. ]
( jason has spent years using body contact, getting close, being flirty--as a way to disarm others. as a weapon of his own, because people don't fucking like it when others get into their personal space. it's a comfort zone thing; everyone has their own personal bubble they dislike being punctured. fitz using that against him is pretty fantastic. he gets in close, fingers along jason's jacket, toying with his collar before flattening it back down and dragging him in.
lips spread into a grin when fitz leans in closer, and jason slouches forward. gets in closer. listens, because fitz is fucking clever and obviously knows what he's talking about. that's good. great. )
I've been playing around the fight rings a little. ( ""a little""; more like fucking lived in the ring the first several days of freedom. he knew what he was getting into, and between damian, kara, and stephanie all showing up at the same time he did--a little financial backing was a little necessary before he let damian shove his grimy little fingers into jason's chest.
his hand reaches forward, gloved fingers moving against fitz's cheek before curling in behind his ear. because one-upping him is important. ) Maybe the 66. ( imitating the same raise in fitz's voice, dull blue eyes meeting blue. ) Tell me more 'bout them.
( because obviously if the answer is maybe that means there's a reason behind that maybe. and anything risky enough to get a maybe is going to be the option jason latches onto. go looking for trouble, you'll probably find it. and he's always looking for trouble. )
[ the ghost of surprise across his features, brows lifting when jason skims his face to find an anchor of his own in their intimacy game. at least gloves prevent empathy flowing through his chest, though it's curious that jason wouldn't use that now, when fitz considers it the sharpest tool in his arsenal. he hopes that means jason is confident in the direction of this conversation.
fitz's mouth widens, eyes sparking with the same little thrill. going this route is dangerous in a way his old self would have balked at. ]
You're good at this. [ playacting, maybe, or the push and pull of sharing information. he is, so why not acknowledge it? another thing worth sussing out now: does jason like a compliment, or does he prefer to be contrary in all things? a huffed laugh. ]
But if I say go left, are you going to swing right just to prove you can? [ amused now, where he would have been bothered earlier. fitz doesn't need someone who listens for this. a keen eye for trouble will do. ] 'Cause I'm not here to misdirect you.
[ a fair assumption, given their short history, but he's here to signpost the best routes for a guy like jason, who suddenly seems like he could be very useful, despite his initial misgivings. ]
The 66 are another gang with a focus on robotics. [ tilting his head into jason's touch. ] A harder sell on your type, given your build and playing in the ring, but perhaps they're more varied than the Hi-Jacks. [ a thoughtful hum. they do need someone there, especially since fitz now knows the hi-jacks aren't feeding back into organised crime — someone is, without a doubt. ] Could introduce you to mine and theirs. [ the hi-jacks and the 66. they're the people he sees every damn week, if not more often than that. a thoughtful hum. ] Spread the word that both the Kings and Warlocks are interested in you. See if someone bites at the next fight, especially if a few of us clever sorts bet on you and bolster your profile. [ then, sharper. ] Provided you've recovered enough to win, of course.
[ from his chest injuries and all. not a comment born of concern, but more of a practicality. smart guys don't bet on losers. ]
( the blue glow is something neither of them can afford in this kind of public space, jason is well-aware of the risk that come with skin contact. he's learned to weaponize their empathy bonds, has used it far more than he ever thought he would be comfortable with. jason--doesn't do touching. or feelings. combining them both is just asking for trouble.
sometimes a little trouble's what you need to get by, however. and he's more than aware of that. )
I'll go whichever way suits me best. ( sometimes that is in the opposite direction he's told. sometimes it's towards where he's directed. depends on the day, who he's talking to, what he feels like. because jason todd is all instinct and passion, all the time. and he has absolutely no intention of changing that. even if his emotions do get him into shit he shouldn't be in 90% of the time. ) You say left and left looks nice? I'll go left. If right seems better. .
( fingers sifting idly though short hair, before they move down to frame fitz' jawline. run a thumb over his chin. lets the skeevy grin fade into a half smile. it's softer, at least. )
Give me another week, I'll be back in the rings. ( not time he needs necessarily but time he should take. with everything else going on, jason can use a little caution. only thing it hurts is his pride, and that was decimated years ago. ) But I'm a guy of many talents. Could have a knack for playing with bots, never know. ( could he figure it out? probably. would he bother trying? why. that's tim's job? where is their team tiny nerd when he's needed. )
Maybe I'll show you a thing or two while I'm at it. ( whether he means robotics or toying around in the ring jason intentionally leaves unclear, but he says that loud enough to be overheard. it's not something that needs to be hidden between two dudes staring lovingly into each other's eyes, is it? brows wiggle suggestively as he lets the hand drop away from fitz's face, slouches back into his seat. )
[ there's a self-awareness to jason that fitz hadn't expected. he can appreciate that — alongside a healthy dose of self-interest and personal judgment, meaning he's capable of making a call on the fly (even questionable ones). only jason pushes the boundaries of this game not by being blatant or skeevy, but by softening. a light card through fitz's hair makes him more uneasy than anything else, so he doesn't escalate it, loosening his grip on jason's jacket instead and ducking his head to avoid that slight smile. ]
Good. [ that he'll be back in the ring soon, well enough to be of use. a beat before fitz fully recovers, returning to his drink and offering a contemplative tilt of his head. ] But it might be that others are less nuanced than yourself, you know.
[ a genuine counter, despite the sarky tone. there are several mechanic, robotic, and hacker types around, just in need of a nudge in the right direction. there are fewer folks capable of taking a beating — a number that further narrows when fitz considers who he wouldn't worry over in the ring, from both a practical and personal perspective.
again, he considers how dick would be disappointed by this conversation and all it entails. when he'd asked fitz not to babysit his brothers, he probably didn't imagine his new friend would have a hand in helping one step out of line instead. ]
( jason realizes that. a glance around the safehouse was enough to establish that there aren't too many people around who are bigger than him. there's thor, massive fucking piece of muscle he is, and a couple others about on jason's level--the rest of team robin's still around, too. but, aside from damian, they're built for dishing out damage, for avoiding getting hit. dick can take hits, sure. but he's gone out of his way for lean muscle build. for flips and shit. jason's the one who went out of his way to build himself up like a fucking tank.
so he gets fitz's point. )
Am I the only one you've been sweet talking into fights and rowdy gangs?
( more so he knows who to look out for than anything else. if fitz has information regarding the structure of the underground's families, he's almost positive he's got a good idea of who is doing what down there. )
Or do I have competition I should keep an eye out for?
[ he pauses, the silence punctuated by a sip of his drink. ]
Would you believe me if I said you were my first?
[ with the gangs at least, an impromptu test-run brought on by jason's own needling rather than fitz identifying him as a useful mark. lucky. ]
But I'm cultivating another lead, yes. [ waving a hand. ] Early days yet. [ unlikely to beat jason to the punch, so to speak. ] If they're inclined toward a particular group, I'll update you. [ his shoulders rise in a lazy shrug. ] No sense in doubling up.
[ anonymised for now, though he's open to sharing in future. ]
( so fitz is moving pieces. he's clever enough to keep a few on lead, smart enough to gain dick grayson's attention, and doesn't open his mouth and blab on unnecessary details. wow. consider jason intrigued and (mildly) attached. someone who has the balls to start directing others where they're useful and playflirt along the way, that's jason's kind of dude.
he doesn't need the leadership, but fuck does he appreciate it right now. jason's always a mess when he's playing his own game, especially without any real high goal to reach at the end of it. fitz is, at least, giving him something to go off of. )
A'right. Sounds good to me.
( another moment, and he pushes himself up from the bar stool. makes a quick transfer via implant to transfer over credits to cover the drinks. )
Well, this was nice. You'd better call me for a second date.
[ if this were SHIELD — if he’d recruited someone or been assigned to handle them — there’d be protocol to walk through. rules, emergency procedures, a breakdown about what fitz can offer him in a crisis. he still recalls his first meeting with coulson, freshly resurrected and standing in the doorway of his academy dorm — encouraging, complimentary, cautious — only fitz contrasts that warmth with later horror from his mentor. that wasn’t your call to make, fitz. it was. it absolutely is. if no one else will take the lead, if they won’t decide who’s worth recruiting, risking and protecting, he can. he will.
an encounter both haphazard and uneasy has become an opportunity to grasp a useful piece, charting a path suddenly opened up ahead. fitz doesn’t trust jason — but he believes he won attention, if not respect, today. and that jason will pursue one of his suggestions, at least in the short-term. the lad’s tough, dedicated to finding answers to the point of vivisection. better than half the agents fitz has guided into danger ‘cause he was mid-leap already. this chat only refines his trajectory. ]
I’ll ring when it suits. [ when it’s useful for him to do so, likely once he scrutinises jason in the ring. fitz hardly has any time left to waste, working for three here in NA, and feeling the hairline fracture in his mind crack ever wider. ] And expect the same in return.
[ at least with anything significant enough to alter his broader plans. one corner of his mouth hooks upward, not quite a smile, as he raises his glass. cheers for the drinks, matches malone. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
easier just to keep himself covered. the flush is met with a wider grin, before jason turns himself back around towards the bar. raises his glass and rotates a wrist to stir the whiskey inside. )
All this work to avoid me, when we could've been enjoying good whiskey together this whole time. ( another way of saying of course that's what he has. jason offers his own glass, holds it towards fitz. ) Figured if we were going out for beer, I'd get something a little stronger while I waited.
Dicky wasn't over exaggerating how cute your accent is, either.
no subject
that experience means he doesn't hesitate, tipping the glass to enjoy generous swig without seizing jason's drink, unafraid of the intimacy, despite his general misgivings about this entire sequence of events. and thank god he did 'cause, jesus christ, he's going to fire dick grayson. all press is bad press, especially the sort being volleyed back in his face now.
buying himself time to answer (and obscuring the stupid, traitorous flush), he drags a hand across his jaw. ]
Yanks are easy to impress. [ dry as anything. ] Or amuse, in your case.
[ he huffs. ]
So, were you hoping I'd entertain you, [ gesturing between them. ] or is this about scoring points in a pissing contest?
[ why does anyone even care if he has a poor opinion of them, anyway. he's just the grouchy tech monkey. ]
no subject
Leopold, I had my eye on you way before Grayson came along. ( yes it's about dick but it started before dick so it's only slightly about him. just a little. )
And it seems like you've gotten yourself in well here, haven't you? ( a gesture around the bar, to it's patrons. ) You always bring your dates here?
( he wants the info behind the gang, but jason knows better than to start asking big questions. )
no subject
Only the mouthy ones. [ meant beyond the obvious dig: it's always loud here, so you can speak freely. ]
[ he sighs, flagging down the bartender with a raised hand to put a beer on jason's tab. if they're going to dance like this, he needs a drink. a tip of his head this way and that follows, considering jason's inquiry. then, mildly — ] I know how to handle myself.
[ fitz laid out his credentials on the network, making his ability to integrate with the gangs more understandable, if still surprising to anyone who has spoken to him, well, ever. he has more settings than most people see, at least after recent events. ]
Have you made any friends around here, Malone?
no subject
but jason has full intentions of getting right back on that train once he's back at 100%. not quite yet, but soon. )
Had some family shit came up that took some precedence over my previously voiced plans. ( dick's arrival kind of fucks him over too, the shit. he's always judging what jason's getting into, on his ass about stupid bullcrap. and jason hasn't found his stride with dick yet. where his limits lie specifically. it makes getting into his own plans hard. not impossible, because he'll go with them anyway, but harder. )
Don't suppose your gang is looking for a few more lackeys.
( he asks, but doubts fitz is going to share. especially considering the kind of shit jason intends to get into, and he hasn't been quiet about it. )
no subject
his beer arrives, and fitz takes a generous swig, considering the remark with a measured seriousness. a brief thought is spared for the ethics of aiding dick’s younger brother to integrate himself with the underground. they hardly seem disparate in age, though fitz has got over half a decade on both of them. something about jason feels young, as if he has more to prove. ]
[ evenly — ] I’m in the market for allies, not lackeys.
[ and maybe not friends, either. unabashedly, fitz sharpens his focus on jason, keen to gauge his reaction. ]
Provided you’re interested. [ canting his head. his mouth quirks, privately amused. ] I don’t do unrequited.
[ an offer for intel, advice, even teamwork — but only if there’s something to be had in return. ]
no subject
waves the bartender over for a beer. )
Sounds fair to me. ( voice even. jason keeps his eyes leveled on fitz' own. looks fairly nonchalant, even if he's running through a dozen questions inside his head. ) Tell me, Mr. Fitz: what are you after?
( leaning in a little closer, a mischievous glint behind dull blue eyes. )
I'm sure we can. . come to terms.
no subject
Information. [ i like knowing things. ] The more we know, the clearer our plan going forward. [ the same thing he said before, only it should be obvious now that he means it. intel on gang involvement in their situation, on the creature carcasses still circulating the black market, and higher still, on the rich individuals servicing the crime families. people like that may very well be patronising other questionable causes, including human experimentation and trafficking. ]
Now, [ rolling a hand, utterly casual. ] the Hi-Jacks wouldn’t suit you. [ no need to lower his voice. this is their territory, fit-for-purpose. ] Mechanically-inclined, merit-based, neutral in all disputes. [ manifold uses for him; not so, for others. he feigns an interest in fixing jason’s collar, and his tone drops. despite perking at the name of the gang, the bartender looks away and spies another order to take, uninclined to linger on apparent flirtation. really, fitz oughta thank jason for setting up a cover with his flirty bullshit. ]
You’ll want the Kings or Warlocks. Maybe the 66. [ a light tug on the jacket, bringing them closer, though his features remain schooled into neutrality. ] S’likely someone has an eye on you, anyway, if you’ve made yourself a familiar face or had a start in the fighting rings. [ jason’s a tank, like illya, built for taking hits and executing knockbacks. doubtful he has the credits to join the races with a vehicle of his own or the mechanical know-how to tech for those — let alone the botfights. fitz wouldn't last in the ring, for that matter. play to your type, mate. ] As I understand it, they all have ties to the big crime families.
[ it’s advice as much as intel, angled to ensure the population of anomalies embeds individuals in every organisation. even in this, fitz believes that offering more is the move. omissions should be strategic or necessary, used sparingly enough that no one suspects you of being the withholding sort. and as he sees it, he can only gain something from this conversation. even if jason stirs shit with the gangs, it'll draw attention away from rumours of the vigilantes with glowing chests. ]
Then, all we do is keep in touch.
[ those are his terms, in an ideal world. ]
no subject
lips spread into a grin when fitz leans in closer, and jason slouches forward. gets in closer. listens, because fitz is fucking clever and obviously knows what he's talking about. that's good. great. )
I've been playing around the fight rings a little. ( ""a little""; more like fucking lived in the ring the first several days of freedom. he knew what he was getting into, and between damian, kara, and stephanie all showing up at the same time he did--a little financial backing was a little necessary before he let damian shove his grimy little fingers into jason's chest.
his hand reaches forward, gloved fingers moving against fitz's cheek before curling in behind his ear. because one-upping him is important. ) Maybe the 66. ( imitating the same raise in fitz's voice, dull blue eyes meeting blue. ) Tell me more 'bout them.
( because obviously if the answer is maybe that means there's a reason behind that maybe. and anything risky enough to get a maybe is going to be the option jason latches onto. go looking for trouble, you'll probably find it. and he's always looking for trouble. )
no subject
fitz's mouth widens, eyes sparking with the same little thrill. going this route is dangerous in a way his old self would have balked at. ]
You're good at this. [ playacting, maybe, or the push and pull of sharing information. he is, so why not acknowledge it? another thing worth sussing out now: does jason like a compliment, or does he prefer to be contrary in all things? a huffed laugh. ]
But if I say go left, are you going to swing right just to prove you can? [ amused now, where he would have been bothered earlier. fitz doesn't need someone who listens for this. a keen eye for trouble will do. ] 'Cause I'm not here to misdirect you.
[ a fair assumption, given their short history, but he's here to signpost the best routes for a guy like jason, who suddenly seems like he could be very useful, despite his initial misgivings. ]
The 66 are another gang with a focus on robotics. [ tilting his head into jason's touch. ] A harder sell on your type, given your build and playing in the ring, but perhaps they're more varied than the Hi-Jacks. [ a thoughtful hum. they do need someone there, especially since fitz now knows the hi-jacks aren't feeding back into organised crime — someone is, without a doubt. ] Could introduce you to mine and theirs. [ the hi-jacks and the 66. they're the people he sees every damn week, if not more often than that. a thoughtful hum. ] Spread the word that both the Kings and Warlocks are interested in you. See if someone bites at the next fight, especially if a few of us clever sorts bet on you and bolster your profile. [ then, sharper. ] Provided you've recovered enough to win, of course.
[ from his chest injuries and all. not a comment born of concern, but more of a practicality. smart guys don't bet on losers. ]
no subject
sometimes a little trouble's what you need to get by, however. and he's more than aware of that. )
I'll go whichever way suits me best. ( sometimes that is in the opposite direction he's told. sometimes it's towards where he's directed. depends on the day, who he's talking to, what he feels like. because jason todd is all instinct and passion, all the time. and he has absolutely no intention of changing that. even if his emotions do get him into shit he shouldn't be in 90% of the time. ) You say left and left looks nice? I'll go left. If right seems better. .
( fingers sifting idly though short hair, before they move down to frame fitz' jawline. run a thumb over his chin. lets the skeevy grin fade into a half smile. it's softer, at least. )
Give me another week, I'll be back in the rings. ( not time he needs necessarily but time he should take. with everything else going on, jason can use a little caution. only thing it hurts is his pride, and that was decimated years ago. ) But I'm a guy of many talents. Could have a knack for playing with bots, never know. ( could he figure it out? probably. would he bother trying? why. that's tim's job? where is their team tiny nerd when he's needed. )
Maybe I'll show you a thing or two while I'm at it. ( whether he means robotics or toying around in the ring jason intentionally leaves unclear, but he says that loud enough to be overheard. it's not something that needs to be hidden between two dudes staring lovingly into each other's eyes, is it? brows wiggle suggestively as he lets the hand drop away from fitz's face, slouches back into his seat. )
Brute force isn't the only thing I'm good for.
no subject
Good. [ that he'll be back in the ring soon, well enough to be of use. a beat before fitz fully recovers, returning to his drink and offering a contemplative tilt of his head. ] But it might be that others are less nuanced than yourself, you know.
[ a genuine counter, despite the sarky tone. there are several mechanic, robotic, and hacker types around, just in need of a nudge in the right direction. there are fewer folks capable of taking a beating — a number that further narrows when fitz considers who he wouldn't worry over in the ring, from both a practical and personal perspective.
again, he considers how dick would be disappointed by this conversation and all it entails. when he'd asked fitz not to babysit his brothers, he probably didn't imagine his new friend would have a hand in helping one step out of line instead. ]
no subject
so he gets fitz's point. )
Am I the only one you've been sweet talking into fights and rowdy gangs?
( more so he knows who to look out for than anything else. if fitz has information regarding the structure of the underground's families, he's almost positive he's got a good idea of who is doing what down there. )
Or do I have competition I should keep an eye out for?
no subject
Would you believe me if I said you were my first?
[ with the gangs at least, an impromptu test-run brought on by jason's own needling rather than fitz identifying him as a useful mark. lucky. ]
But I'm cultivating another lead, yes. [ waving a hand. ] Early days yet. [ unlikely to beat jason to the punch, so to speak. ] If they're inclined toward a particular group, I'll update you. [ his shoulders rise in a lazy shrug. ] No sense in doubling up.
[ anonymised for now, though he's open to sharing in future. ]
no subject
he doesn't need the leadership, but fuck does he appreciate it right now. jason's always a mess when he's playing his own game, especially without any real high goal to reach at the end of it. fitz is, at least, giving him something to go off of. )
A'right. Sounds good to me.
( another moment, and he pushes himself up from the bar stool. makes a quick transfer via implant to transfer over credits to cover the drinks. )
Well, this was nice. You'd better call me for a second date.
no subject
an encounter both haphazard and uneasy has become an opportunity to grasp a useful piece, charting a path suddenly opened up ahead. fitz doesn’t trust jason — but he believes he won attention, if not respect, today. and that jason will pursue one of his suggestions, at least in the short-term. the lad’s tough, dedicated to finding answers to the point of vivisection. better than half the agents fitz has guided into danger ‘cause he was mid-leap already. this chat only refines his trajectory. ]
I’ll ring when it suits. [ when it’s useful for him to do so, likely once he scrutinises jason in the ring. fitz hardly has any time left to waste, working for three here in NA, and feeling the hairline fracture in his mind crack ever wider. ] And expect the same in return.
[ at least with anything significant enough to alter his broader plans. one corner of his mouth hooks upward, not quite a smile, as he raises his glass. cheers for the drinks, matches malone. ]