Participants:
| Scene Title | Cuffed |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Lola meets Jay. Handcuffs are involved. |
| Date | September 8, 2009 |
It's afternoon, almost dinnertime. The weather's perfect, which means that the hoodie is on, though open. Today's shirt, green, reads: "my life is a very complicated drinking game". Jake Vega is headed down a jogging trail straight for that back section of the park where the rubble has yet to be fully cleared away. Maybe one of these days they'll build a monument or something, but for now, that spot looks like trouble, which has his name written all over it. He's got both hands in his pockets and a sharp smile occasionally twitches across his lips; trust that whatever he's got in mind, it might not be the wisest course of action.
Lola is trying out her new persona - Marie Sophia Clemens. She hates the name, but it's so goofy and yet mundane, no one would ever think twice about it. Instead of in her usual daisy duke wear or casino ho gear, she's dressed in a loose pant suit, one that almost screams 'cop'. She knows what cops wear, after all. Leaning back on the bench, her jacket falls open, revealing a police-issue handgun inside of her shoulder holster, but only for those looking. Her black sunglasses gaze up at the sky, wondering just what she can do as a special agent for the FBI.
See, that right there is damn good reason to do the Avoid NOW thing. Jake is just walking, looking at everything. 'Everything' includes Lola, because she's there and, well, it's Jake, and she's female, so even if he weren't looking at everything, he'd glance. Shades, suit, and… oh, hey, look, bump on the back to indicate a holster. Fuck. This realization splashes across Jake's face like acid, poisons his reactions from 'hey-look-hot-chick' to 'omg-cop', and results in him simply veering /right/ off the path he /was/ taking and off towards… uh… a playground. Crap, there just isn't any way he's going to end up looking normal here, is there.
Lola doesn't catch his gaze, but she does catch him veering off course into the playground. Odd. Of course the man's probably innocent, but she can probably make him shit his pants when she accuses him of being a kiddy didler. She sits up a bit, watching, just waiting for him to make one more move that she can twist into calling suspicious, just so she can jump up and do what she does best - cause truble.
Playground. Playground. Bleh. …Turning around now would be even more suspicious. So Jake drops down on a bench and, after an instant of thought, starts fiddling with his shoe. There's a stone in it, see - deep treads do tend to pick them up and he hasn't been heeding the stay-off-the-grass signs, particularly in rocky areas with no grass. He fishes a pen out of his pocket and starts working on getting the damn thing out.
And there she has it. Lola can see him from behind, and she sees him sitting cross legged, sees his arm moving slightly back and forth, sees his head tilted down. Maybe he is a kiddy didler. It's a good enough reason to get Lola off her little tush and heading down the hill toward the playground, putting a hand on Jay's shoulder from behind as she reaches him. "Scuze me, darlin," she drawls.
If he had any idea what he looked like… oh, the luck is not with him today. Jake twitches about a mile as a hand comes down on his shoulder, nearly spins right off the bench, the pen flailing back. It's probably the fact that the voice is female which keeps the nervous kid from accidentally impaling something. "Huh?" Ever seen guileless innocence before? Ever believed it? If you're the gullible sort you might, coming from him - he does a great puppy face. Big green eyes and pure, startled shock - add that to the pen marks on his shoe and the small rock stuck in one of the grooves to give away what he really /was/ doing. Lessee, though, even that first visual impression can be ruined by a bad opening line… "Can I help you?" There. That oughtta do it. Maybe. Don't mind the quiet sweat he's working up.
Lola smiles down at the boy as he rises, peeling off her sun glasses. She tucks them into her pocket, drawing the hand out with a silver badge clipped to a black wallet, which she flashes to him. "Special Agent…Clemens." She hates that name. And she almost forgot it. "Can I get your name please, sir?"
…Yeah, that's not good. Not good at all. Jake frowns just a hint. "I'm Jay. What's the problem?" Note the lack of a last name - and the use of an uncommon nickname, just to make sure looking him up is a little trickier. He remains standing for now, keeping his shoulders relaxed and his hands in sight. There's still the pen in that one hand, but that hardly counts as a threat, right?
Lola's having trouble keeping herself from dancing this is so much fun. Look look look, this little boy here is ready to piss himself and run away, all cause she has a badge and a gun! Too fun! "Alright then, Jay," she says, her southern drawl still clinging. "Mind if I ask what you're doing out here? Don't usually see many boys your age out in a children's playground. Much more like to find yer type hanging around strip clubs an the like."
Yeah, this is fit to make Jake climb walls - he might end up in deep trouble if he can't lie his ass off convincingly. He flashes a smirk, not so much contrived as controlled. "I had a stone in my shoe," he says, and holds up the pen, then makes a show of putting it away. "Needed to sit down for a minute. Mind if I ask what you're doing here, ma'am?" That's in his absolute /best/ innocent voice. This is a trick he learned from his father: ask questions of those questioning you. Sometimes you get answers, and sometimes they try to get rid of you, but it always tips things up a bit. He widens his eyes a bit. "Is there a problem in the park today?" And then Jake hurls a half-paranoid look around. The agent's got to be here for a reason - and given what's out there, it doesn't take much to get worried for real about it.
"Hmmm," Lola says, her smirk growing wider. "I'm here for you, Jay." She answers, setting a hand on his shoulder again. "If you can convince me that this is nothin' big, it's not a serious problem, it's just a fluke, then I might be able ta let ya walk on outta here without a nother care in teh world. But I ain' fond of liars." ORDER: It is now your pose.
This time, rather than accept the touch, Jake takes one neat, smooth step back, angling his shoulders just so to make sure it falls short. "Ma'am, unless you've got a warrant for my arrest, I sincerely doubt you're here to see me." And then it hits him, and he pauses, looks Lola over, and breaks into a grin. "And that is a /great/ costume, miss. Did Dave put you up to this?" It's got to be a prank. He hasn't actually done anything worth getting arrested for - that anyone paid attention to, anyway.
"Either you talk to me, Jay, or I put you in cuffs right now here for exposing yourself in a public place. Near children none the less. Tsk tsk." And she's got cuffs - really, don't ask - that she pulls out of her back pocket, holding them so as to keep them hidden from any eyes that happen to glance by. "Do you want that?"
For a moment, the grin goes totally wicked. "Hey, if you're into that I suppose I'm game, but let's take it away from the playground, all right? I'm not into that stuff." And he shifts forward one pace, realigning himself, almost leaning towards the agent, though there's still a bench somewhat between them. "Whatcha wanna know, sweetness?" "About some of your less than legal activities," she responds. He does seem rather nervous, so she'll push it and play on his own guilt. "FBI has been brought in to help NYPD with the insane amount of lawlessness in this city, and I'm here just to keep tabs on all the little fish. If you come clean to me, say you'll behave from now on, I have no reason to hold you."
And Jake snorts. "And if I buy that you've got a pretty bridge up in Brooklyn to sell me, right? You're a cop, not a priest, if you're a cop at all. You've got an obligation to report and contain anyone who confesses to lawless behavior." The wicked smile is back again, though, and he leans forward, plants both hands on the bench, and for a moment positively looms - though he's not taller from that angle, he is momentarily just a bit too close. "Of course," he adds in a rather quieter voice, "If you're just wondering what I get up to behind closed doors, I'm afraid you're just gonna have to come along and find out."
Lola smirks, a mischevious smirk. The cuffs are already in her hands, and with him looming so close, he probably can't see her hands working down so low and so close to him. Snap and click can be heard, and suddenly Jay will find his left hand is wrapped in a silver bracelet - and the other bracelet is attached to the bench he was just leaning on. "You were saying?"
The reaction is instant - a hard yank that, from the look of his face, actually hurt quite a bit. Here, have a hurt look - Jay doesn't look particularly terrified, but he does look somewhere between annoyed and vexedly innocent. "So who authorized this fishing trip? What next, you gonna go through my pockets without a warrant?" It's a bluff, this bravado, but… "Let me see that badge again. You'd better be legit or I'm gonna be having a talk with the actual FBI. This is getting past the point of fun and games."
Lola doesn't give a crap if he is going to talk to the FBI or not. "Patriot Act says I can detain and search anyone I think might be involved in terrorism. We've had a lot of talk of young terrorists these days - Humanis First, Phoenix." She pulls out her badge and flashes it again - it's a real tin. Slipping it away, she pulls out her sunglasses and puts them on. "I got all day, darlin, I could sit out here an get a nice tan."
"Fuck," says Jake, and finally, he actually does look irked. "Fine, my name's Jake Vega. Yes, my dad's Marcus Vega the journalist." Not that it's likely to matter so much here. "No, I'm not a damn terrorist. You want nice, polite talking, take off the bracelet and buy me a drink and we'll see." Full retreat, defenses up! Lola is starting to tire. He's not saying anything interesting. "I know," she says, tryingto make it seem like she knows more than she does. "But you're not my type. I consider journalists nosy by default, kids have got to be about the same. Anything else you want to tell me, Mr. Vega? If I walk away that's it…next time I come it will be with a warrent."
Here, have a roll of the eyes. "On Wednesdays I squish kittens. I'm not a criminal." And he /is/ a smooth liar. There's a pause, though, and Jake raises both brows and drops down onto the bench, slouching out in a sprawl. "Wanna come check?" So she's really an agent, huh? That doesn't stop the inevitable flirting. "I've never done it with a cop before." And yes, that's totally an attempt to annoy away the agent. …Christ, this is completely going to /screw/ his attempt to get a fake ID. They'll never touch him now.
Lola hmms, patting down her pockets. "What's this? I think I may have left my keys at home." She points out as she begins to dig through the pockets she has, her jacket pulling open a moment long enough to flash the gun buckled into the holster. "The more you spew crap, Mr. Vega, the longer this'll take for me to find it. I get distracted easily."
"Oh, keep searching, I could watch this all day." Hey, the suit jacket got moved, he gets a better look! Sort of. "Ask your questions. Never let it be said that I wasn't fully interested in…" No, he's not looking at the agent's face. "Helping the law." Jake licks his lips and begins idly working at the cuff. Maybe he'll be able to wiggle out of it. Then again, he didn't have time to prepare, so. Lola wrinkles her nose. This boy is annoying! So, time for a search! She reaches over, beginging to rifle through his pockets and pull out anything seh might find. "See, the more you talk like that, the longer I have ot keep ya here. And boy, won't daddy be happy when he gets a call from his little brat from jail askin' for money!"
"Hmph. He's bailed me out before. And that's all sealed, so sorry, Agent whatever-you-said-your-name-was. Juvenile, you know." Jake doesn't fend off the attempt to start poking into the pockets of his hoodie. There are a pen, a notebook, some hard candy, a set of keys, a narrow strip of pills still in the blister packs with the name of an allergy pill plastered across the back, and a pair of sunglasses. You'll have to go digging into his pants for the wallet. "You'd get further picking on my mom. My dad's been jailed by corrupt people wielding power plenty of times. Almost got executed once. My mom, on the other hand, just had to patch him up. She can't stand that kind of thing, which is why he's not in South America anymore. I'm sure she'd cry or something." His tone's slightly doubtful, though.
Boring boring boring! "Come on, kid, I know you can do better than that." And she seems to have no qualms about fishing in his pants. She doesn't grab or anything inappropriate, but she just, well, digs around, seeing if she can find something, anything interesting. Becase she's dying here - he needs to be a serial killer or something awesome to entertian her!
Jake squirms. It's not that he's uncomfortable, just that… well, all right, it is a bit odd to have a girl fishing in his pants and not looking for trouble. There's his wallet, there's his cellphone. There's a suddenly odd cast to his face - kinda red, actually. If this were a prank, it'd be a /damn/ good one. "What, you want a better insult than corrupt power-monger? Gonna have to give me time, I keep getting distracted by your ass." He's gonna get in trouble, but he can't help it. "Or did you want me to dream up a fake confession? I already said something about squishing kittens, how about inappropriate staring?" Squirm. "Damn, if you're gonna get friendly, wanna at least take it to some other bench? There are kids watching!" She may not be going for the inappropriate stuff, but he can certainly make it look as if she is.
Lola rolls her eyes. "Keep yer shoes on kid, I ain' want nothin' to do with you, like I done said. Now hold still." She pulls out his wallet and begins to rifle through it, looking for a business card, something, anything interesting. "People get jailed fer doin things wrong." She points out to the boy, fishing through the wallet still.
Here, have something interesting: five hundred dollars cash, all nicely wadded up. "Well, I've been told I do everything wrong, so baby, pick something." Now that she's not fishing in his pants, Jake slouches, boneless. "Mmph. Could I at least trouble you for a happy ending?" He's got a credit card right there, Jacob A Vega. His dad's business card, too, two or three of them. There's a scrap of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. …And three condoms. Mustn't forget those.
Lola whistles as she pulls out the money. "Lotta cash here, son. Where'd ya get it? Your age, your demeanor, you look like a loafer. Bet ya didn' earn it. Much more like that ya stole it. Is that what happened here, did ya steal this money?" She asks, holding the bills up in front of his face.
"I got a summer job," Jake protests, and lifts his head. "Jesus Christ, can't get /any/ credit." And then he snorts. "Ask my brother, I'm as pure as the driven snow - and anything I didn't get myself I can get outta him, so it's mine fair and square." Give him ten more minutes and he'd have been five hundred bucks poorer and one impressive fake ID richer, and there'd be a crime to investigate - but now the chances of him pulling /that/ off are pretty slim. This has made a rather public spectacle of him - the people he was planning to deal with are probably long gone.
Lola flicks the money off into the bushes. "Whoops, wind got it." What a bitch! "Didja know snow that's been driven through gets pretty dark and ugly? Way I hear tell of it, at least." She finally pulls out her keys, uncuffing the boy. "Well there ya go, yer free to go. Just watch yer step, Mr. Vega, I'll be watching you."
"Bitch!" Yeah, he'll call it like he sees it. "God fucking dammit, like I haven't got enough reason to sue…" Like he's gonna sue. He goes /straight/ for the bushes and the money, because dammit, that's a lot of cash to a kid his age. Scramble, scoop, and Lola's totally getting a dirty look as Jake stuffs the money back into his wallet.
Lola chuckles, swinging the cuffs into her hand and tucking them into her ass pocket. "Now now, that's no way to talk to the law. Behave, kid, like I said. I've got both eyes on you."
Wallet gets stuffed into his pocket and Jake straightens up completely, then starts checking himself over to make sure he didn't get robbed. "You want something to look at, you know where to find it, chica."
