Your Ass Is Grass


jane2_icon.gif russo2_icon.gif

Scene Title Your Ass is Grass
Synopsis Jane comes in to finish up this interrogation business with the DoEA's favorite golden boy.
Date March 29, 2011

26 Federal Plaza: A Meeting Room

The good news is, they're back in New York. The bad news is, the group's been split up and no one knows where the other two are. But Bradley Russo knows that he, at least, as been sitting in a mostly empty meeting room for the better part of the day with a guard outside the door. Just one. But then, given that this is the DoEA building, it could be considered to be full of guards.

Eventually, though, the door opens and a familiar agent steps through the door. Perhaps she was chosen because they've spoken before. Or maybe it was decided by Rock-Paper-Scissors. However it was worked out, Jane Pak is the person than crosses over to the table, presses her hand against it and lets out a sigh.

Russo had been relatively still through the entire process. Through his move. Through his time in the 'tank,' and certainly through his time sitting at the table here. On the plus side he was relieved enough to be back in New York. There's a twitch of something at his lips, somewhat akin to a graced smile— wholly rehearsed as he leans forward in his chair, it's the vaguest greeting, the oddest acknowledgment of what he can give. He swallows hard as he rests his hands upon the table.

"Agent Pak," he tries out her name as his blue eyes flick towards the door and then back to the figure standing at the table. His own hands are laid in front of him, not quite acknowledged as a force of nature as his fingers splay out, stretching somewhat against the surface of the table top.

"Oh Bradley," Jane says, shaking her head, "Bradley, Bradley. What possessed you? Attacking soldiers? Waltzing about in restricted areas armed. The report says you all were armed. Can you tell me that's a lie? They made it up because you're too pretty?" It's an annoyed grimace that greets him this time, "That deal we made with you wasn't a free pass for idiocy, Russo. And it really wasn't one for your pals. What is does mean, is that your ass is mine when you pull stunts like this. What am I supposed to tell Praeger, hmm? To give you a time out? What were you thinking! I've read the transcripts from your interrogations and let me tell you, this does not look good."

The agent pulls out a chair roughly, spinning it around backwards before she drops down onto it, arms folded on the back. "Whew," she says, a smile coming to her face, "That was fun. I haven't dressed down the troops in a while. So, hey Brad. What's up?" It's friendlier, sure, but her tone leaves no question about her wanting actual answers. "You want a coffee or something?"

The first bit is met with reserved silence. Swallowing hard, Brad allows himself to be berated quite openly, thinking himself more than deserving for the talking-to he receives. His hands fold together on the table, fingers interlocking as his head tilts slightly. He doesn't feel the need to interrupt her train of thought even if she does want answers to her questions, he intends to wait until she's finished.

Once Jane twists in the chair, however, she's met with a small twitch of a smile and a slight twinkle in the man's blue-grey eyes. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself— sorry I caused so much trouble in the first place— " his eyebrows tick upwards as a small sigh escapes his lips. His head shakes tightly as yet another sigh lingers. "I don't need a coffee, but thanks for the offer."

He clears his throat. "For the record I don't carry a gun; I barely carried a gun when I was a soldier which is probably why I didn't last— " his own comment draws a smirk "— it's unfortunate that my hands have become something of an oddity on their own, but not all of us were armed. Just one." His tongue dabs at his lips while his eyes narrow into a kind of odd glare as his teeth toy at his bottom lip. "But I take responsibility for that." Even if he wasn't the one carrying it. Strange.

"I've also come to recognize I seem to have a problem. I don't know how to turn it off or on. My— " instead of finishing the thought, his gaze tracks down to his hands which he opens and closes into fists with a small shrug.

"Well, I'm glad to know you, at least, weren't entirely stupid. And I did wonder if that was the case with your hands. Look. You should contact Harve Brennan. He's a doctor, works with the Suresh Center, does all sorts of Evolved awareness work. he might be able to help you find someone who can help you get a handle on your ability. I'm giving you a chance to figure all this out your own way, but if there's another incident, I'll pick someone out myself. I will chain them to you. I will surgically graft them to your hip. That's a promise." Jane reaches over to tap a finger against the tap, for emphasis.

"So, tell me about what happened. Someone broken in, left you a note and instead of calling the police or us, you decided to do what the note said and wander into a restricted area and fight a few soldiers. That's what I've gathered so far." She smirks a bit at the summery, but she's serious enough as she goes on. "So what's the story there? This Red Knight person. Why listen? Why not assume it was some New York nut?"

Russo's eyebrows arch high on his forehead as his lips part slightly. "I'll do what I can to ask around, and I know Harve. But I appreciate the candid comment, I'll do what I can to bring it under control." He clears his throat, "If only to avoid having someone surgically grafted to my hip." There's a pause as his chin lifts slightly in an effort to find eye contact, "Thanks for that image, by the way."

He takes a slow deep breath as his gaze ticks upwards, "It was around Christmas or somewhere therein, and I wasn't remotely connected to you folks yet. And honestly? I've had some strange things happen in the last year or so." His lips purse slightly while his head tilts somewhat, "And frankly I didn't think it was necessary to call anyone at the time. It wasn't the first time I'd ever had a break-in, and none of the times had I ever incurred bodily harm. In fact I believe there were four in total— all within the span of a few weeks. And only one of which left me— " he raises a hand and rocks it back and forth slightly in a so-so motion.

"Regardless, someone broke in and left a note. Kristen and I have had a policy since college: we follow all leads, no matter how outlandish. Honestly, we've had stranger ones." His lips twist to the side as he considers, "I've chased them all. A lot end up with nothing. The rest? Well sometimes we get lucky. If we don't trust our sources, we become faulty reporters, faulty newspeople… " He issues her a one armed shrug.

"It's not abnormal, you know, to have someone newly manifested having trouble controlling their ability. I've worked with a lot of SLC-Expressives in my time. Even before there was a fancy name for them." And it's true. When she was in the service, she helped out a lot of evolved soldiers. Under wraps, though. Jane nods, though, as he starts to explain. At least she seems to be assuming he's telling her the truth, or the truth as he believes it, which is a little different than their last interrogator. "You must lead a very interesting life, then," she says with a smirk. "And you have no idea who left you the note? No insight? Even a guess?"

"All I can tell you is he was in that armour that the FRONTLINErs wear. A lot of people know my face, Agent Pak— many of which think they know me. Believe me, I've had more than one stalker in the studio before," Russo states with another shrug of his shoulders. His expression changes somewhat as he considers, "I haven't had one at the Dorchester apartment in ages though. The security is already insanely tight. Whoever it was would've been able to get in and out without a sound." His lips press together into a tight smirk all his own, "And, for the record, my life is only as interesting as I make it— I like adventure, I like to see where the clues take me, and once in awhile we catch an awesome break."

His lips twitch into a small frown. "While it might be normal to have control issues, the ones I've had get people hurt. Or almost hurt."

"But not so many in fashion far more exclusive than your rarest Valentino, I'll wager." Jane stands up, coming over to put a hand on his shoulder. It's sort of comforting, in a soldier-to-soldier fashion. "You got a short ended stick there, that's true. But now you've got to take what you've got and make the best of it. It's your responsibility to get yourself to a place where you won't be hurting people accidentally. But the good news is, you've got options. And very good chances. And, if you ever want it, I'll help however I can.

"You ready to go home, Russo?" she asks with a warmer, but still amused smile.

"Yeah, can't say I've ever seen one in armour before," Russo smirks back in response. "Highly unusual dress and demenour, and I didn't have the luxury of seeing his face. Which, granted, was also unusual. I can say, however, that unless it was a woman with a ridiculously deep voice, it was a man." He shrugs slightly, again recognizing the little help such generalities provides.

His tongue rolls over his lips as he issues Jane an easier smile, "Home would be.. ideal, Ms. Pak. At the very least I could use a shower and get out of these clothes. It's been too long." There's a small pause as his eyebrows knit together slightly, "Can I ask— " his jaw tightens as he even considers the question, "— this might not be a question that's even remotely appropriate but… what did we stumble onto out there?" He raises a hand somewhat defensively, "I have no intention of returning."

"Well, that's a start. A man in FRONTLINE armor." Jane does lift an eyebrow at his question, though his statement following makes her relax again. "Unfortunately, you don't have the clearance for me to answer that question. And neither does America's TV audience, if you catch my drift."

But she steps over to the door, pulling it open and gesturing toward it. "There's a car that can take you home, if you'd like. Or we can get you a cab. Whichever you prefer. Just remember, you've got to behave, or that ass. It's mine. They told me, one more screw up and I get to give out the spankings," she says with what can only be considered a flirtatious smile.

"Touche," Brad murmurs with a flicker of a smile as his hands press against the table to assist him into a standing position. His slow paced steps drag his already exhausted body to the door, "I'll take the car, somehow waiting for a cab seems like more work than it's worth." There's another arch his eyebrows.

The warning is met with Russo's most charming smile followed by a quick three fingered salute and a nod of his head, "Yes ma'am! No more foils, Scout's honour." Not that it makes up for the lives lost, but at least she believes it's an accident.

"And let me know when you've found someone to help get those magic fingers under control," Jane adds, before she leans out to get the guard's attention. "Escort Mister Russo to the car downstairs, will ya? And do me the personal favor of making sure no one else has broken into his home when you all get there." Or left any new messages, is probably the unspoken request there.

When she looks back to Brad, she smiles back at him. "No Boy Scout I ever knew had a smile that charming. Now get out of here, Russo, and don't make me drag you back again." It's a teasing farewell before the woman steps out to head to her own office, leaving Russo to his personal DoEA escort home. But at least after that, they'll be out of his hair.

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