That Was Primal


jj_icon.gif kincaid_icon.gif

Scene Title That Was Primal
Synopsis After a disastrous filming at Studio K, Kincaid and JJ have a quick conversation as they exit stage left.
Date January 23, 2011

Studio K

As soon as he is able to get away, Kincaid puts the extinguisher away and hurries down the hallway toward the office of Russo. To take care of those 'carrots', no doubt, or that's what anyone listening would think. There are no plants in the office that resemble carrots, though, and it's something from window sill in the office that the twenty-something assistant producer reaches for.

A tissue is also grabbed, from the desk on his way out, which he holds up to his lower lip as he steps back out into the hallway, worry in his dark eyes. Things never quite go as expected, do they?

Quick steps carry him toward the elevator, he hits down. This particular elevator is far enough out of the way he hopes it's not busy— most of the trouble should remain closer to the studio, not the offices… Or so he's hoping. The door opens with a ding, and he steps inside, hitting the button the parking level button.

The DoEA people having come to take over, JJ is only too happy to hurry away, managing to avoid any one-on-one confrontations with Sarisa on the way. Just as the elevator door is about to close, his hand catches it, and he steps in.

Seeing it's just Kincaid inside, he widens his eyes. "Shit, man, are you okay? You look like shit, but looks aside?" he asks, pulling on his overcoat and buttoning it as he watched Kincaid. "What the fuck happened to your face, anyway? I didn't get to ask before all that." JJ jerks ahead toward the door to indicate the studio.

"Oh, hey…" Kincaid says, lowering the tissue from his lip with some pinkish blood on it. It's starting to lessen already, and he can catch a glimpse of it in the mirrored door. "Walter happened," he explains, as if— that explains everything in two words. "His face is just as bad, though," he adds, though it's not as forceful. "That was a cluster— Sorry you had to deal with Dirk, that… My producer has a bad sense of humor sometimes." But a good sense of ratings.

One might hope the show exists tomorrow after that particular ratings stunt… But they'll find a way. He's sure they will.

But still, he mutters under his breath. "I had no idea he'd have hand blasts."

"Yeah, that was …" JJ grins just a little. "Kinda fuckin' primal, really. I mean, how cool is that? Totally trumps my ability. Man, I was only to like yesterday with the whole vision thing, before Brennan looked at me and cut it off. Nothing interesting. Coulda done without seeing him take a piss in the urinal, you know, before it cut off, but whatever, man. Makes it easier on me in the long run. Kerhsner can try and figure it out."

He reaches into his pocket for his car keys. "You beat the shit out of Walter? Or mutually beat the shit out of each other? Howard'll be jealous, man." He jiggles the keys in his hand. "Where you headed? You got a car?"

The worry suddenly dissolves into a laugh. "It is a pretty primal power. I don't think I've seen anything quite like it, either," Kincaid says, voice taking on the amusement, perhaps fueled by J.J. having to see things he likely didn't want to see, and avoiding the grimace at the possibility of having been negated himself.

Not a thing he'd enjoy.

"Mutual beating up. He started it." Though he doesn't say who won, or who ended it. "Yeah, I got a car— what he asked of me, he needs me to take care of something important. I think that's the first time he ever called be 'Caid…" he adds in softer tones.

JJ's eyes drop and he nods. "Anything I can do to help?" he asks, and when the elevator dings, doors opening he glances at the level — not the right one for his own vehicle, but he follows Kincaid out anyway. "Speaking of important — I got some good news. There's a healer on my unit, right? Well, you do all that research, you might know. Dooley. She don't heal normally though, only like, if it's dire? But I got her to agree to see if she can do something for Nora."

He glances at Kincaid's various injuries, then shakes his head. "I don't think I can get her to help two people. She has a soft spot for blindness I think, something about her in laws training seeing eye dogs." He exhales. "If we can't get her to heal Nora, maybe she can at least get a dog."

He shoves his hands in his pockets as he follows Kincaid. "I gotta set up a meeting. Pretty sure Cal'll wanna go with her. Not sure who'll come from the island with her, but I'll try and set it up sometime this week."

Stepping out, Kincaid glances around for signs of people, before he continues speaking. Even then, his voice is low, the bloody tissue folded up in his fist as he looks at the lighter eyed man. "That's great news, about her. When I heard what happened… I'm glad someone might be able to help her." There's a pause on the possibility of going as well, and he briefly looks at his hand.

It's not the wounds on his face that he might think about getting healed—

"Probably best I don't. I did research on your unit and we want to make sure she gets healed. I can handle this." And he deserves this. Though he's not about to admit it again.

"As for what I need to do— I have someone I can call, but if they're sending people over to Russo's place in the next hour, a warning call would be nice." A warning call to haul ass, probably.

JJ nods, brows dipping. "All right. I'll let you go, then. Just … give me a call if you need anything, all right?" The words are earnest, a half smile that's all sympathy punctuating the sentiment. "Even if it's just to go for a beer or something, commiserate on the sad state of our fair city, and maybe check out gi—" Oh, wait.

His slight smile broadens. "Dude, I hooked up with Adel, did you know? By the way, your Christmas present's at her place. You got a good gig and all so you probably don't need it, but like, what the fuck do you give people for Christmas, you know? It's a iPad, so if you have one already, I donno, go exchange it for something else."

He realizes he's rambling, and takes a step back toward the elevator. "You better get — good luck. Call me if you need me."

"I think Walter would punch me into Russia if I looked at another girl," Kincaid says with a grimace, perhaps hinting as to the reason why such punching happened. "But congratulations. Guess that means if we go out for drinks it'll be at a sports bar or something. We could watch a couple hockey games." Less girls, more sports and beer. That should be safe for them both, to avoid getting the wrong kind of negative attention.

"I'll have to go pick that up. I wondered why she was leaving me messages… I've been so busy lately…" But he wouldn't say no to a new iPad, really.

Who would?

With a wave of his formerly wounded hand, he adds, "You did good. Though after the last two shows, I'm worried what the next one will be like…" As the door starts to close behind the other man, he moves toward his car.

To take care of some carrots.

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