Let Go Your Inhibitions


aude_icon.gif jay_icon.gif

Scene Title Let Go Your Inhibitions
Synopsis In which Jay learns his gift is not dead, merely dormant.
Date October 28, 2009

Fat Cat Billiards

Fat Cat Billiards is far more than just a bar. Equipped with a plethora of tables for pool, ping-pong, shuffleboard, chess, checkers, backgamon and scrabble sets to satisfy a mob, as they say, it's almost like an adult arcade. A barely noticeable layer of smoky haze hangs in the air, and smooth Jazz plays over the speakers as the boisterous crowd goes about their business of occupying their time in whatever way they choose.

The bar looks to be fully stocked with a wide array of beers on tap and bottles, and enough of the harder stuff to satisfy most palettes. The tenders are as friendly as one might expect (it keeps the tip jars filled, after all) and are usually pretty competent when it comes to filling orders, although there's little showmanship. Just a good drink served at a reasonable price here.

The call came in at about 9:30. Drunk guy at the FatCat - "And dude, I think he's underaged." That right there would be one of Jay's frat "buddies" - whom he just won fifty bucks off of. There's a crowd gathered, and the drinks just keep coming; Jay's in the middle forefront of it, being propped up by several hands and laughing rather… well, he's wasted. Very, very wasted. "Now watch thissun," he says semi-seriously, "I'ma bulleseye it." Again. "Somebody move that cluster!" Pause. "No wait, leave it there, that'll… that'll…" He was gonna say something. "…Make it harder." Drunken, wicked laugh. "Here we go…" Arm back, waver. Wobble. Squint. He leeeeeeeans backwards - a barely-controlled fall, caught by the group behind him - and… THUNK. Right in the middle of the cluster. Uproarious cheers and laughter erupt and Jay yells gleefully, "Another round!"

Poor bartender won't be happy. Aude and her partner dressed in their uniforms with the ever present vests are easing in through the door of Fat cats. Hands on belts and looking about. There's a few guys who match the description that they were given. Drunk guys, hey, that's fine, drunk guys are generally found in places like this. Underaged though. Her partner heads off to talk with the owner while Aude ambles forth to seek out the 'youth' in question.

The 'youth' is having a field day. It's quite the riot in that corner. "One more, nuh uh, not gonna try 'gain till I got one more!" Jake yells, and someone passes him a half-drunk stein of beer. "Fuck yeah!" Glug, glug, glug. This results in beer dripping onto his healthily splattered shirt, but it's black, so that doesn't much matter. The shirt, coincidentally, reads, "NOT TONIGHT LADIES - I'm just here to get drunk." And boy is he ever. Jake nearly slides to the floor at the end of that gulping session. The stein gets shoved into a random pair of waiting hands. "All rightey!" he yells gleefully. "Here we go! Hey, where's my dart? Dart, anybody? Dart? No wait, give me three!" Someone goes forth to get all ten (all clustered inside or very close to the bullseye) off the board, passing 'em over. "Wow, thassalot more 'n three," Jake says thoughtfully. He is currently the most disorderly here - and there's a frat boy by the bar who will cheerfully (and surreptitiously) point him out to the newly-arrived cops. Mustn't be seen as the snitch.

"I think you had enough there buddy. Mind stepping aside with me?" Aude's hand comes down on Jay's shoulder, firm, commanding. Officer of the law, you should obey. "Got some ID I can see too Mister?"

Ten whole darts. Jay was gonna maybe manage a smiley face or something. He wobbles back, has a hard time focusing. "Wow, you're… you're gorgeous." Wobble. Attention roams downwards. "Shit, you're a cop." Sway. "Uh, I wasn't doin' anythin', I just won!" Big, splendid grin. Sheepish addition, "A lot." One hand comes up, containing the darts, and he offers them over. "You try!" Jay's not scared enough of cops at the moment to wish Aude gone. There's some small part of him left which is doing the distant screaming of common sense trying to break through the drunken haze, though.

"I think i'll save the game of darts for when i'm not on duty sir. If you could put those down and please show me your ID, i'd really appreciate it" Drunks are always calling her pretty. Seems to be a standard routine for her. But she offers Jay a smile none the less. "I'd really appreciate it if you showed me your ID"

"Shit," Jake says, but he's still grinning. Hey, she smiled at him. "Hey yo guys, I gotta go, here, take over for me, aight?" The darts get waved a bit wildly and taken off his hands by the nearest up-n-coming who thinks he can beat that streak. "Sure I can't have another?" Jake pleads, but attention is now off him and on the next guy trying to beat his record. He stumbles away from the crowd, stops by a pool table, then sorta bounces off various obstacles, heading for the door. "Kay, byebye now!" It's not that the request for ID is not being heeded. It's that he's going for the door first, and will get it when he gets there - if he doesn't forget. Which is about to happen.

"Patricks!" Aude calls out, drawing attention to Jay as he's heading for the door. "Runner" Possibly, maybe. "Hey! Sir! You need to stop" Aude's following him, trying to keep on his heels in the busy atmosphere of the pool hall. "You need to stop sir and show us your ID< we can't let you leave in this state"

Wooooobble. Jake catches the wall, reorients. There's the door. "No, no, I'm fine," he protests gamely. "You saw that streak, right? I'm a fuckin' god!" Cue another wide grin. "Oh, hi." Patricks. "Wow, you're big. Uh. Hey, I don't feel so good, can we go outside?" It's a reasonable request - and now Jake is starting to worry. That results in a rather nauseous look on his face. Patricks might wanna back up - or possibly get him into fresh air.

"Outside is better" There's a wave to the owner who's watching as the two officers escort the under ager out. Could spell trouble for him or not. But the door opens and fresh cool night air should help impact Jay's fuzzy mind a bit. "How old are you sir?"

Aude closes the door behind her and she and patricks usher him towards the cop car. "I'll ask you for the third time, please present your ID"

Jay actively balks at the sight of the cop car and begins fumbling for his wallet. "Twenty-one." The lie comes out slurred, but in a minute he produces a California ID which claims that he, Jacob Devry, is indeed 21. It's a decent fake, but not precisely, say, mafia-quality. "Oh fuck, hang on, I'm gonna…" That'll be all the warning Patricks gets before Jake hunches over and lets out some of the beer he's had in the last half hour or so. It has, at last, dimly occurred to Jake that perhaps he is in trouble. One of the first things you do when cops are going to take you somewhere is make it inconvenient - without resisting arrest. Promising to paint the inside of their cruiser in fresh shades of rainbow brown is one way of making it inconvenient. The mantra is starting up in the back of his head - ohshit don't let me get caught. Over and over and over again. …There are an awful lot of ways that could come true.

Vomit, meet Patricks, patricks meet beer vomit. Which makes the cop balk and leaves Aude to take the ID. There's an inward snicker as her partner is the one with painted shoes and she's looking over the ID. California, and…. yeah, she shift sit this way, that way, the iridescence just not the same on it. "Okay kid, how old are you really casue my gramma has ID better than this. So less puking on my parteners shoes and more speaking up. Particks, search him will ya? We're gonna be taking you down to the station"

That right there is precisely what makes Jake snap. Suddenly he's moving. He himself has absolutely no memory of the movement, all he knows is that he's darting straight for the cop car and don't let me fuck this up sliding over it in a parkour-inspired skid on the smooth hood of the vehicle. Head down, shoulders hunch, fantastic landing (why can't he do those sober?!) and Jake is flying. Top speed, straight for an alley, wallet clutched in one hand, aiming for tight spaces where the car won't be able to follow and they'll have a harder time getting a straight line to shoot him. He is privately amazed. Publically? He's terrified. Ohshitohshitohshit don't let me die.

"RUNNER!" Her partner is already on the radio, asking for backup and giving their location. Innocent people don't run and Mr.DEvry was running. Aude doesn't skip over the hood of the car but she takes off, running fast for someone with shorter legs than the average person. "STOP SIR! RIGHT NOW!" He doesn't need to worry about guns. Jay is unarmed and thus, unlikely to get his ass shot off.

His ID has been tucked into a pocket as she goes into the alley, dodging a homeless man who's rearing his head out of his hovel and then back in.

Jay can run. Shockingly, he can also jump, even dead drunk. He leaps a box, yells "Shit!" and tucks into a rather crazy roll mid-air, ohgod don't let it hurt lands and swipes an arm around a corner to redirect his momentum elsewhere entirely, still going top speed. Don't let 'er catch me, he's praying now, even as he hunts for ways around this madness. He doesn't know this area of town. Jake follows his instincts - and his luck, which involves him skidding at the next corner and veering down a completely different alleyway. He slams into a wall, he's going so fast, but he does it shoulder-first, bounces off, and in a moment hauls onto a parked car and leaps. The alley's a dead end. The jump's a good six feet, easy, probably closer to seven or eight. Both arms are outstretched please let me make it and suddenly he's on top of an eight foot tall wall. "Holyshit!" He really can't believe he made that.

She's not quite as fast, and she doesn't have that evolved ability that seems to be a genie that grants Jay all his wishes. But she's trying hard so when she comes around the corner, arms pumping, she skids to a halt at seeing the dead end and Jay up on top of the wall. "Hey! Get down here, right now. Woulda just been a slap on the wrist, but now you ran, why'dja have to run"

Jake straightens up, stares down. A grin suddenly appears on his face. "Cuz I didn't do anythin'." And then the fact that he is drunk catches up with him. His eyes widen, his arms flail outwards, and he falls over backwards onto the other side of the wall with a yell of shock and a wish of ohfuckno. The thump is light and fluffy rather than painful and concreteish. Jake landed on a mattress. Moments later, "UGH! Gross!" There comes the sound of retching as he struggles to his feet to somehow find a way to keep running.

Aude's already backpedaling, barking into her radio attached at her shoulder to radio her location update and trying to find a way to the other side. But by the time she gets there, there's no jay, no jacob, no anything but a dumpster that he fell in. But she does have a fake ID with his picture on it.

Which, it turns out, is pretty similar to the drawing that one guy made of the freaky Evo who bought that lotto ticket a few weeks ago. Whoops. Yeah, Jake's not doing that whole 'lay low' thing very well. He's going to take to the rooftops as soon as he can stagger around enough to find a drainpipe to climb. From there, things will get somewhat easier until he's out of this neighborhood or not seeing black-and-whites at every corner.

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