New Girl In Town

Johny runs the track. He's dressed in grey sweats, the sort given out by a half hundred militaries across the world. This one, according to the lettering, was given out by the CAS MARINE CORPS if one believes what one reads. Johny currently is jogging backwards, the sort of thing that one does to build calf-strength. A slow, half hustle step takes him smoothly around the track.

If he's running backwards, then, he won't be surprised when bearing down on him (on the track) comes a slender figure in running shorts and a long-sleeve t-shirt reading, "Vegemite: It's Not Just For Wall Repairs Anymore." And she is rather quick.

Johny continues his jogging, watching the woman approach. See, thats the real reason he jogs backwards; he can oggle women in entirely new and interesting fashions. He reads the womans shirt, an eyebrow quirking as he does so. Of all the memories of his time down under, that one, Vegimite, could have been forgotten entirely, but instead, makes a sudden and brilliant reappearance in his mind. It shows as a wrinkle of 'omg' on his brow, the sort of thing that displays an intimate understanding.

Not too much to watch on her approach, if one is a breast and butt man: this long-legged gal has gentle curves at best, but her calves and thighs say that she does this sort of activity a lot. As she approaches, Wisp flashes a smile at Johny, then slows, practically a doubletake, instead of passing him.

Johny continues to jog past. He ambles, without looking, around a man on the track. "On the left." he says, then passes as said, on the left. He turns his attention back to the woman with the Vegemite shirt, curious as she seems to slow down to avoid passing.

"I've seen you," says the leggy jogger to Johny. "Today. Though I gotta admit, that sounds right like a come-on line, sorry."

Johny chuckles, one hand raising to take his ear-buds out, laying them across his shoulder. He never breaks pace, never stops jogging backwards. "Yeah, I get that a lot. I got one of them faces, you know, the kind every police sketch artist draws when they got no better ideas."

The noise she makes is one of disbelief and disdain. "Not with eyes like that you don't. I just gotta figure out where I've glimpsed you, mate."

«Auto-Judge[]» Johny (#799) rolls Intelligence + 3 (MEIII) vs TN 8 for "Face in a crowd":
2 2 2 2 4 4 4 5 5 5 10 11 = 2 Successes

Johny nods to the woman. "Lunar Nocturn. You sat at the table near the fish tank. You ordered a drink here and sipped it for a while before making your goodbyes. You walked past and to the door. We had only a moment of eye contact."

Johny nods to the woman. "Lunar Nocturn. You sat at the table near the fish tank. You ordered a [drink here] and sipped it for a while before making your goodbyes. You walked past and to the door. We had only a moment of eye contact."

A moment of silence comes from Wisp as she continues loping alongside the man running backwards, then she remarks in that Difficult to Disguise accent, "Bugger me if you're not dead on. I did see you there, not long ago. But we didn't meet, right?"

Johny nods to the woman. "It's what I do." he says with a cocky grin. "So whats a nice aussie like you doing in a town like this, visiting a bar like that and then running with a guy like me? Thats a lot of qualifiers on that question, so be sure to hit the high notes."

"What's a guy like you doing running with an Aussie like me in a town like this asking so many questions like that when we just bloody met?" counters Wisp with a laugh.

Johny answers honestly… "Asking questions of a woman like you who was vising a bar like that and running with a guy like me who was asking questions of a guy like me about why he was asking questions about a girl he hardly met?"

Wisp snorts. "I'm going to get a headache, thinking on that so much. Right. Well. Name's Jamileh, from Sydney as you at least can tell. London's what I first heard, for God's sake. Was in the bar getting a soda with someone I'd just met and his large collection of mates and as far as running with you is concerned?" Her gaze goes up and down, fleetingly. "Nice body."

"Thanks. Made it myself. It's a work in progress, but anything worth having always is, you know?" He turns then to pull to a stop near the old Muscle Car. "Sydney. How on earth could someone cross that with -london-?"

"Beats hell outta me. Strewth, is this yours?" Her gaze rakes over the old car with great admiration. "Bonzer."

Johny glances to the old Car. "Yep." he says, moving to lean on the fender. "Restored it myself. I have a lot of idle time, need something to fill my hours, ya know?" he says with a grin. "Anyway. What has you in Denver? Convoluted though it was, question stands."

Wisp crouches down to examine the wheels more properly, admiration in her gaze. "Right, and you still haven't given me your name, have you?"

The car, it should be noted, is not a modern vehicle. It's a faithful restoration, down to the drum brakes, the engine and the trim.

Johny thinks that over. "Can't say I have. But then, you've not asked, so no harm, no foul, now is there?" He asks with a grin.
Wisp's hand makes a reverent pass over the car's hood, barely grazing it as if she were touching a work of art. "Thought I did. My bad. Whacher name then?"

Johny offers a hand then. "Wulfson. Johny Tiberius Wulfson, at your service."

Wisp pauses, straightens, then takes the hand. "Jamileh. Some call me Jam. Cheers."

Johny eyes wisp, some sort of raunchy innuendo about jelly and Jam and shaking like that behind his eyes. "Indeed. Johny. Some people call me johny. Some call me 'Hey you' and others call me 'DUDE THATS MY WIFE!'".

Those brown eyes roll but in a good-natured way. "One of those. I see. Judging by that look, I'd say you were thinking about jam and spreading."

Johny rolls his eyes now. "Oh don't be so vulgar. I was thinking more something along the lines of it must be Jam because Jelly doesn't jiggle like that. Come now, if you're going to ascribe to me sexual innuendo for a lady I just met and hardly know… at least be more -accurate-"
Wisp straightens again and quips, "I jiggle? What part of me precisely jiggles, mate?"

Johny moves around to the back of the car, popping the trunk and pulling out a bottle of HATER-AIDE, the energy drink with real powdered HATE-FUEL. He shrugs, offering a bottle over to her, the FURIOUS CHERRY flavor, while he takes 'ICE QUEEN BLUE'. "Now, that would be telling."

"Cheers." She opens the bottle, sits against the edge of the car and queries, "You don't offer up much without a girl begging, do you?"

Johny eyes the girl now, twisting the cap off the drink. "What, and spoil the mystery? Men are preciously easy to figure out, if you have the right data, and why would I want to ruin the game so early on? If I had a dollar for every answer I had to drag out of a woman as a younger man, I'd have at LEAST ten more dollars."

After a good drink from her bottle, Jamileh remarks, "I've told you what you asked, now, haven't I? I mean, so far."

"Yes." He admits, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He tosses the empty bottle in the truck, it rebounding off a large black sampsonite case. "Hey. Just because you're free with thoughts that may get you slapped, doens't mean I'm gonna out and out just tell you I was staring at your tits, does it?"

Johny pauses.

You say "Balls!""

Wisp's brows raise, then she laughs, poking at his chest. "Well, good on ya, Johny. Not much else that does jiggle on me." Then she quirks her head, tucking back a loose shank of chestnut hair, adding, "Unless you meant you were staring at my balls. Which I don't have. Which you might find out sometime."

Johny quirks a brow. "Look. I'm not one to judge on how you live your gender-conflicted life, but I ain't interested in chicks with dicks… or any OTHER plumbing god didn't give them. Furry Mods, Gender Mods, hell, even heavy peircing and ducting… -not my kink-."

Crinkling her nose, Jamileh agrees, "I like men for the whole package, not just the bits and parts. They don't make a man. Women…don't care a fig about 'em. So as I was saying, if you play your cards right, you might see what's under here's fair dinkum female."

Johny closes the trunk then, leaning on the rear of the car. "Well, its all very good that you're sexually adventurous and forward, and I don't mind it in the slightest, but to get under my hood? You need to do more than share a plastic bottle of exercise water, ya know?" He says with a grin that contains no rebuke. "I'm a might particular in what ladies I invest my time in."

"I said 'might'," answers Jamileh good-naturedly, with another poke at his chest. More pensively, however, she comments, "I'm actually not that adventurous at all, but since this morning…well, something…I don't know. Gotten an itch. And good on ya for being particular. Some men aren't. I'd like to think my men are."

Johny snerks then. "An itch, eh?" asks the man, moving to the passenger side of the car to open it up now. He pulls out a duffel bag, setting it on the passenger seat. The interior of the car (save a large section of the dash board devoted to a modern radio, Nav unit and other such controls necessary for a modern driving vehicle) is mint condition, clean but scuffed. Maintained, but not museum quality. He drives the car, not letting it be a hangar queen. "This itch moves you to talk to strangers in parks? Must have been a bitch when you were a little girl."

Wisp blinks, mouth opening and closing a moment, fish-like. "Well," she says after that hestitation, "I'd seen you before. I was perfectly behaved growing up. Didn't have much of a choice." She thrusts out her hand with the bottle. "Thanks for the drink, then."

Johny shakes his head. "Hey, I'm just hacken on ya, don't be so fish-mouthed." He says, taking the bottle and tossing it in the back seat. "Sheesh." HE says with a grin. "Look. I get a lot of people who come at me, so I'm a bit on the paranoid side. It pays to be. So don't mind me none if I give you a good whipcrack to see what is behind the exterior now and then. It's just who I am. Hungry?" he asks, reaching in to his duffel for a clean shirt, then peeling off the seat shirt.

Johny to be fair, it's safe to say that Johny is built like a grecian god. Not a body builder, but very well built in terms of tone, form and function. Not an ounce of fat on his body, the sort of definition and sculpt that comes only with an active lifestyle, not just the occasional visit to the gym.

For a moment she doesn't answer, mouth twisted in a pensive way. "I suppose I'm just used to dealing with people straight on. Sometimes I forget I'm where I need to be more cautious. I…." Then her voice stops dead.

Johny tosses the sweatshirt back in to the duffel bag, then slides the clean white tee on to his frame. "You.. what?" He asks, leaning on the car door like a neo-james dean cum Marlon Brando.

She's back to that slack-jawed fish impression again.

Johny reaches one hand forward, lifting her chin. "Close your mouth kid, flies will get in." He says, then putting the duffel in the back seat. "Get in, we'll go grab a bite to eat."

Wisp grins sheepishly and gets into the car, smoothly and gracefully and effortlessly…without so much as opening the door. "You know precisely what you look like, Mr. Wulfson, at least to a woman. Bugger if you don't."

"Some women." HE says, opening the drivers door and sliding in to the drivers seat… "Like my form. Some find it… too hard. Too Jaring. Some women want something more rounded, more feminine." He says, shrugging then. He closes the door, the adjusts the mirrors, looking around the car quickly and effortlessly, before using a -key- to turn the ignition! No chips, no push-button. He actually -turns- a key.

The engine starts on the first go, a deep, rumbling base that shakes the entire car like nothing else but a 451 hemi can. "So. What kind of food do you like, kid?"

"Variety's the spice of life," answers Jamileh, leaning back against the seat, eyeing the controls, the dash, the ignition (a key?!?!). "I like different people for different reasons, but a man like you, with everything tone, you're like a work of art. Ah, food? Anything that doesn't mind me being there in nylon shorts and a t-shirt, love."

No holographic heads-up-display, no instant connection to gridlink, none of that fancy claptrap. Just old car. Nice old car, but old car all the same. "I find that variety is just as you say. As to your current dress… you want to change somewhere, or you want something casual?"

Smirking, she counters, "After that crack about me being a forward, sexually aggressive bitch, think it's a good idea for me to bring you back to my flat, then?"

That smirk, by the way, is accompanied by a twinkle in her eye.

Johny ahhhs, thinking that over. "No. Probably not. Best go to my place." He taps a display on the dashboard, where the old radio and air conditioning controls used to be. "Marcus."

The car's stereo system comes online with a male voice, midwestern accent. "Yes Johny?"

"A selection of clothes for…" A glance at the woman for a moment, his eyes going up and down in an analytical fashion. "Female, dark complected, five seven, 118 pounds. 34 24 34."

"Yes sir… where shall I have these?"

"The Penthouse. I'll be there in about 10 minutes."

"No problem, sir."

The call disconnects.

That fish? It's back. Open and close mouth, wash, rinse, repeat.

Johny doesn't bother correcting her this time as he pulls the car out of the park, heading east along Colfax, the window down on the temperate Denver spring morning.

Johny doesn't bother correcting her this time as he pulls the car out of the park, heading east along Colfax, the window down on the temperate Denver spring morning. He puts the radio on, a recent top-40 mix of pop and urban ork hip hop.

"How—no. I don't want to know how you figured that out." Wisp laughs in a more relaxed way but has to ask, "What makes you think I'm going to strip down for you in your flat, mate? Though a shower sounds good."

"Because I'll rent you a hotel room for the day if you find my flat to be less than palatable to your refined sense of taste and decorum." He says, a slight grin as he pulls in to the secured garage for the massive 80 story casino complex that is Castle Medievo.

"Hey, Johny?" says his companion as they go into the garage. "Seriously, mate? I don't know anything about you other than the fact I just figured out you are worth a lot more than me. Me being here's got nothing to do with that. Right?"

Johny glances over to the girl as he parks between the two other cars in the VIP section of the parking lot, behind a guarded gate. "I don't follow. Yeah, I've got a successful life. What the hell would that have to do with me making lunch?"

Wisp hesitates. "I meant I didn't chase you down like some brainless shiela after a rich bloke. I didn't know. I'm just uncomfortable thinking…well, since I did sort of make a pass at you and all that you might think it was because of all this. Wasn't."

Johny shakes his head. "No. I smell that shit a mile off. I'm in the business of 'arranged' meetings, kiddo. I know coincidence when I see it." He says, getting out of the car and waiting for her to join him.

"Right then." She gets out of the car, tugging down her shirt and looking around as if the place doesn't impress her quite as much as the car. "Lead on. I don't know where I'm going, Brickie."

Be it ever so … humble? Jamileh looks from Johny - in the sweatpants and in the t-shirt - to this opulence, gaping. She doesn't seem impressed by the grandeur so much as by the juxtaposition between the soft drawled Texan and his casual nature and the place he has just termed his home. As one is wont to do in new places, she wanders around, speechless, looking as one might in a museum. A little like a bumpkin, but at least she's not trying to act as if this sort of place were a common sight for her.

Johny excuses himself for a moment, heading in to the hallway to get changed himself. Marcus chuckles quietly, watching the woman gape. "Don't worry. He keeps this room for impressing people. He actually lives mostly on the Patio and in the spare bedroom." He comes back a few moments later, dressed in casual jeans, a teeshirt that says 'I'm with stupid ^' and sneakers.

"Marcus talking out of turn again?"

"Of course not sir."

"Don't make me get mah hickory switch!"

Marcus rolls his eyes, then falsettos.. "OH NO, NOT THE HICKORY SWITCH!" And then wanders off to get the clothes he bought.

Wisp doesn't seem quite certain what to make of -that- little exchange but smiles nonetheless. "Do you think I could catch a quick shower before putting on something clean?"

Marcus gestures down the hall. "Of course. The bathroom has been stocked with a variety of garments that match your frame measurements."

Johny moves in to the kitchen. "We're having chicken for lunch." Says Johny then, looking in to the refrigerator, pulling out a selection of boneless chicken breasts and some vegetables.
Wisp pauses on her way down the hall, as suggested. "You weren't riffing about the bit about making dinner, were you?" Which she seems to like a good bit, judging by her smile. "Won't be long."

Johny looks at the woman then, a chicken in one hand, a spatula in the other. "Honey, I trained with the CIA for four years. I can -cook- a damn chicken."

Johny is, by the time the woman is back, midway through making a stirfry of vegitables to go next to lemon-garlic chicken breast over rice pilaf. He's got his back to the bathroom and is chatting quietly with Marcus.

The Clothing is a selection of contemporary fashions, 2 different cuts of jeans (White and black), a selection of undergarments and other such nessessary things.

Black jeans, a white camisole and a translucent white blouse with silver threads shot through compose the outfit she has chosen, and everything fits fine. A little too fine, in fact. She is, however, barefoot and damp-haired as she enters, features freshly scrubbed with perhaps a touch of makeup if some was provided. Very little: she seems to like the clean, girl-next-door look. "Your man has bloody good taste, Johny."

"He should." Says Johny then, as Marcus moves off to allow them to talk. "I pay him well enough." He says with a grin. "So. I figure, I cook in here, we move out on to the patio to have a lunch. ANd when I said I can cook, I really wasn't, you know, lying. It's just one of those things I do. Like breathe, drive expensive cars and jump off the occasional building. It's sort of fun and keeps me moderately sane."

"Moderately.." Mutters Marcus.

Wisp mmms, reaching over to pluck a piece of vegetable off the top of what Johny is cooking. "You did say CIA. Culinary Institute? Who -are- you?"

"Johny Wulfson." he says, reaching over to smack her hand with the spatula. "NO PICKING! Rule number one of Casa de la Johny! No picking the veggies!" He says, mocking amusement in his voice. "Culinary Institute of Amsterdamn, but most people think it makes me some kind of spy."

"Some people have no culture," scoffs Jamileh, rubbing her hand. "It was just a bit of squash. For, you know, making sure you're not having me on, dosing me up, something like that. Show of faith!"

Johny gives Jamileh an eyebrow that would do Duane Johnson proud.

Wisp grumbles and keeps her hands to herself, but her eyes are twinkling again. "Well, I don't give a toss about it. Keep your ruddy squash. Hrmph."

Johny gestures to a cabinet with his chin. "Get some plates, step out on to the patio and I'll be out in a minute with the food."

To Marcus she quips, "Which of us works for him now?" as she collects the dishes from the cabinet. She seems to be having a good time; laughter comes naturally to her.

Marcus casually scratches the side of his head with a single finger. You know what finger.

Johny shakes his head with a chuckle, adding a bit of this or that to the dishes as he prepares them.

Wisp has put the plates on a table but gone down to the lower deck, squatting beside the pool. While she has seemed off-handish about so much of what she has seen (excluding the Mustang), she seems enchanted by this little grotto-like pool. Her fingers trail through the water's edge, expression wistful.

Johny comes out after the woman by about 3 minutes, four dishes balanced in his arms. "Glad you like it. I designed it myself." He offers, a clatter of dishes signalling his arrival upstairs. "Its what I do. I'm an architect by trade."

"It's so beautiful," she breathes without moving. "I hadn't thought much on how I missed the water. It's so bloody far from here."

He hears her, despite being up stairs. "There's a river not far from here, and a lot of lakes. Far from the ocean, yeah.. but when I want the Ocean I fly down to Biloxi where I have a beach house.":

Wisp stands up, reluctantly leaving the pool to go upstairs to the main deck. Her smile only returns when she takes a deep breath and inhales the aroma of what he's cooked. "So let's see. Architect, chef, body of Adonis…. Too good to be true."

He looks her over as he starts to dish the woman up some food. "I am what I am, and if I am real, then I stand solid before you, if I am but a shade of imagination, of fancy or fantasy, then I shall fade in the next breeze." A pause as the bamboo rustles in said next breeze.

"Nope. Still here. Now, come getcher food."

Wisp settles in a chair, rubbing her hands together. "Looks and smells wonderful, Johny. Really. I'm starving too."

Rice Pilaf with chicken breast marinated in lemon and garlic, a vegetable stirfry with bits of this and that and finally, a little bit of sticky date pudding, a favorite in Austrialia. Sort of a guess as to if Wisp will like it, but thats what life is, risk. "Well, come on and sit down. Plenty to go around."

Not a bit of hesitation. She tucks a napkin onto her lap, then tucks into her food, happily.

Johny settles down as Marcus brings out a selection of beers and sodas. JOhny selects a domestic brew, cracking the top off. A pause as he closes his eyes to murmur a prayer, and then he picks up his fork. "Thanks for joining me. I don't much care for eating alone."

"Me either. This is … just brilliant, Johny. I can't see how you -do- eat alone, though, unless you want to." Jamileh selects for herself, yes, an Australian beer but not Foster. Ugh. "I don't mean all this wealth. I mean that you're easy to talk to, casual about who you are, comfortable… You have a lot of interests, seems like."

Johny shrugs, sipping his beer. Fosters: It's austrailian for EXPORT ONLY. It's not even on the platter. Johny takes a bite of the chicken then, commenting. "Oh, its almost perfect. As to being simple and easy to talk to, its simple as this." He looks to the girl then. "I'm not trying to -fuck- you." He says with a bluntness. "People get hung up on good impressions, on if or if not they are going to be seen in a positive light, on how they are seen. Contantly trying to be the quipper or the witty one or the this or the that, keeping notation in the mental score card." He shrugs.

"It's not a bad way to go, if you like that sort of thing, but I've been shot at enough, seen enough, to not want it for myself. So, here I am. Doing my thing. Having lunch at the top of the world with a pretty lady I have no intention of trying to fuck. And thats why I'm easy to talk to."

She nods slowly while eating - which she does without pretense, without nibbling as women sometimes do with men they're trying to impress; she's genuinely enjoying her food - and after a deep drink of her beer she states, "I would have said you're not trying to impress me or anyone else, but thanks for reinforcing that we won't be having sex." She salutes him with her bottle, continuing, "A girl might get a complex, you know?"

Johny chuckles, sipping his beer. "Look. I'm not saying we won't eventually find ourselves in a sweaty tangle. But thats an eventuality. I'm a classical kind of guy. I'm older than I look and I got the whole 'need to put my pecker in something quick' phase long ago. I've got some perspective on the world, looking down from here. " He gestures to the vista of Denver spread out below. "And I've got perspective back in there." HE shrugs then. "I'm in no rush. If somethings good? It will be. Also, it keeps the 'batshit crazy' down to an acceptable level."

"Long as the door's open," drawls Jamileh, leaning back to take a break from her meal and enjoy the view. "I'm all for keeping batshit crazy to an acceptable level myself. For all that I came onto you back there and all, I'm…not quite what I might seem. At least in that respect. In a lot of respects." She takes a pensive draw from her beer. "To be honest? Not sure -what- I am. Brand bloody spanking new here, no work yet, not sure what I want I'm bloody doing here."

"Doors are always open." Says Johny then. "It's what I do. Open doors. I'm all about opportunity and method. So. Now." he says, setting his beer aside, leveling a stare at the girl. "What do -you- do?"

Wisp considers, then queries, "My last name is Agassi. Have you ever heard of Agassi Security in Sydney?"

«Auto-Judge[]» Johny (#799) rolls Intelligence for "Dunno, have i?":
1 2 2 2 2 2 3 4 5

Johny shakes his head. "Never done much work down that way, so I can't say I have."

"Well, if you did and needed security there, my family would be the one probably tagged to provide it. We - they - have been providing private security for a few decades now." She rises, stretches, carries her beer to the edge of the balcony to look at the impressive vista below and beyond. "I was born into that lot. It's what I know how to do."

Johny nods then, wheels clicking behind his eyes. "So. Thats where you come from. What do -you- do?" He asks then. "ANd if you come from such a moneyed and skilled family, why are you in Denver, literally as far from Austrialia as you can be and still be speaking English?"

Without turning around to look, Jamileh finishes her bottle of beer and murmurs, "Right now? I drink beer, eat a rich man's cooking and think about having a good time working somewhere other than — oi, we're not that moneyed."

Johny shrugs. "Moneyed is as moneyed does. People with companies named after them tend to have money enough to keep a company named after them, kiddo."

"Too right. The -company- has the money." Does she sound a leeeetle bitter? "Invested, reinvested, re-reinvested, with trained family members doing the work for the sake of the family -company-. Which is just a ruddy pile of… Cods wallop."

Johny nods. "Money's just a tool, kiddo." Says Johny then, poking his food then. "What matters is not how much you have, but what you -do- with it. So. You're in Denver to make your own name and your own pile, free from the family, its rules, its strictures…"

Wisp glances behind her at Johny for just a moment before looking across Denver again. "Something like that."

Johny stands up, moving over to stand next to the woman. "What do you see?" He asks, offering another beer with his offhand while gesturing to Denver with the other.

A soft 'thank you' goes with the acceptance of the beer; she sets her empty behind her on the table. After an initial swig of the brew comes her answer. "Possibilities."

Johny nods to the woman. "Same thing I said when I first came to Denver a decade ago, an old, broken, bitter man."

"What happened?" she questions, looking at the man beside her, genuine interest in her query.

Johny shrugs. "I got better." He says with a grin, sipping his own beer.

Wisp seems at a loss as to how to react to that, and in the end she clinks her bottle against his. "Here's to getting better."

Johny nods, clinking his bottle. "So." Says he then. "What sort of work are you looking for?" He asks curiously then.

More beer. "Well, I'm bloody good at security," she remarks pensively. "I can be hard to find too, when I want. Makes me good at looking after people. Things."

Johny hrms quietly, looking the woman over. "How are you with combat? Skilled? Unskilled? Talk to me about vehicle skills. Can you drive? Can you scale a wall, how long does it take you to run a mile -at high altitude-?"

"I can take care of myself." Jamileh considers before she goes on. "I'm better at not being hit than hitting someone, but I can fire a weapon smart enough. Sure, I know how to drive, but I'm not the one behind the wheel in a pinch. I can run a mile in four and a quarter flat; high altitude seems to add another ten seconds. As for scaling a wall…" She just smiles.

Johny looks to the woman. "Well….?" He asks curiously…

Wisp puts down her beer, turns to look at the wall to the roof, then gives herself a few feet of running space. Quick steps follow, and without help or effort, she soon stands on the roof.

Johny rises up through the air then to follow after her. Simply lifting up like he was flying; because he is. "Very impressive." he says, glancing across the roof to the helipad where Mustang Alpha sits. "Can you do it with out the tricks?" He asks curiously.

Wisp is, by the way, staring again. He flew. Huh.

Johny sets down on the edge of the hotel roof, looking down on the city again. "How fast can you slice a lock?" he asks curiously. "And what rating do you start to have trouble with?"

She pauses as if trying to give her answer thought. "Fast enough. Lots of questions for an architect, Johny."

"Whats the first rule of opening a lock and bypassing it, Security Girl Jamileh?"

"That's n…." Taking a deep breath as she sits on the edge of the roof, Jamileh answers, "Check twice, slice once."

Johny grins, a shit-eating (What kind of descriptor is that and how the hell did the guy who coined it know what it looked like?) grin. "Correct. Check twice, slice once. To slice once, you got to know how its made. Know the angles, the math, the this and the that. To actually know if an air vent can hold you, which it can't, or if you're just going to plunge through it in to the lower level shit recyclers… cause you will. Architecture is the study, design and then execution of construction and building." He smiles then.

"I don't work in the field anymore, Kiddo." A pause. "But I pay people who do."

Wisp's smile is a trifle wistful. "You remind me of my uncle. Some. Look, Johny, I need some bloody work. I'd prefer it to be work for someone I respect, but my money's not going to last forever. I know that. If…" Oh, pride. Struggling against it can be such a pain. "If you can give me a hand… Cripes, I don't know how I'd repay you. You bloody have everything."

Johny smiles slightly. "Look, if I got work and you get paid for it? Trust me. I'm getting paid too. You do good work… I'll get you more. You do more work?" A pause. "I'll get you a better class of work. How did I get better?" He shrugs then. "I did work."

"I will -not- let you down," she promises firmly, vehemently, before asking, "What kind of work are we talking about?"

"Whatever you want." He admits. "I got call for cold blooded killers on occasion and I employ the lily whitest of hats. I won't force you in to work you find by its nature morally disagreeable, but it will limit your utility in some cases. I got one guy I use… BEST fucking mage in Denver, or there abouts. He can't kill anyone, and the concept of being a mercenary is sort of alien to him. Nice kid though."

"I don't even know what I think of as being morally disagreeable." She runs her fingers through her hair, sitting on the edge of the roof. Apparently heights don't bother her a bit. "But I'll tell you this. I'm not a for-hire killer, at least not the sort you'd want to depend on. You want me to get somewhere, take out something, not be seen? You want me to get information from someone? I can do that. Bloody well."

Johny nods. "Wetworks takes a special kind of Sociopath." Says man without recrimination. "It's one thing to kill in the heat, it's another to premeditate it. I won't call on you for that sort of thing. But BnE, some car theft, a little sabotage now and then…"

Wisp nods. "That I can do." And she sounds certain about it. Stretching out her legs, she slides down to the deck below, soundlessly; once there, she turns to look up at Johny above. "And you're an adept."

Johny shakes his head. "Nope." He says with a smile.

Johny hops down then, not flying, but taking the ground all the same with a flex of his knees and a casual stance… "NOt a magical bone in my body, kiddo."

"Then how do yo—oh." When he lands, Jamileh pauses before tentatively reaching to touch his hand. "I'm glad you were running backwards; never would have known you otherwise."

Johny chuckles quietly. "Providence and happenstance are my trade, kiddo." He says, not pulling his hand back until a moment passes. His hand, she may notice, is warm to the touch, but just doesn't feel quite right. SOmething in it just a little… off. "I am heavily cybered. I didn't win the genetic lottery and get magical powerz." You can almost hear the Z in that word.

Looking fascinated, Jamileh regards that hand for a moment, then the rest of him. "I figured that when you said you weren't an adept, even if that … " She shakes her head. "Trust me, you didn't need to win the genetic lottery. You -made- your road. Your mind and will…it's nothing that magic will help with."

Johny chuckles. "I could just be a mage, you know." Says he. "But I'm not. Your right." He says, moving now down the stairs in to the pool area, stripping off his shirt. "I am a self-made man, and I worship my creator."

Wisp follows, still fascinated. The rest of lunch is not going to get eaten, at least not now. "Going to have a swim?"

Johny nods. "Yep. Nothing beats a good lunch and a good conversation followed by a good swim. If you wish to join me, you will find the primary example of the bathing suit rule in the locker to the left there."

Eyes crinkling in her smile, Wisp opens the locker as indicated to look for what's inside. "No complaints here."

Inside, are swimsuits, both one piece, and two piece, in every imaginable size. Also, a fully loaded Colt Manhunter skillfully concealed.

O…kay. Hrm. She selects a pair of bikinis and looks about for a place to change. There -is- a place to change, right?

An alcove with the after-swim shower has a door that slides out of the wall.

Aha. Sliding out the door, looking a moment behind her at the exceptional shape of Johny shirtless, Jamileh laughs softly and disappears to doff her clothing in favor of something more suitable for the pool.

He steps in to the grotto, then comes back out wearing a pair of swimming trunks with an image of the late great president Dunkelzhan, the Great Dragon who ran the UCAS for all of like… uh… 6 hours before he was assassinated. The snout of the dragon rests right were other snouts may reside. "So then." He says, moving to the water. "What do you -want- out of life?"

"Same as most people," Jamileh calls back as she finishes changing. "Happiness, health, well-being. Security. Love. And some fun on the way." The bikini she selected is more demure, yellow with chocolate polka dots, but it's still a bikini. When she approaches, a towel over one arm, she espies his suit and twitters. "Very cute."

JOhny chuckles then. "Hey, I like to keep things loose." He says with a grin, moving to the hot tub. "So. You want the American Dream. Had to come to whats left of America to find it, I supppose."

Shrugging as she climbs into the hot tub, Jamileh answers, "Not just America that dreams of happiness and all. That's what make me piss off Sydney. All that work for the family, and the only ones benefitting were the oldest in the family."

Johny nods. "Used to be called the American Dream, because thats where people came to find that dream and realize it. Opportunity abounds in this fractured land of social mobility and casual economics." He says, sliding in to the water. "Minored in economics."

Wisp's eyes close as she sinks down to her chin in the steaming, bubbling water. "Well, you seem to have made your opportunity and embraced it, mate."

"Yep." Says he, sinking down to the same level. The jets come on, very quiet, delivering pressure and sensation all across the body. "Alright. I've got a simple job that seems to fit your skill set. When are you available?"

Wisp keeps to what seems a typical mien for her: honesty. "I'm not working, remember? I'm yours whenever."

Johny quirks an eyebrow at the phraseology. Innuendo to be had there. "Indeed. What is your current gear load out? What do you have for assets?"

"Armor, climbing gear, some electronics." She clears her throat, turns her head toward her companion. "SMG."

Johny nods to the woman. SMG… He quirks a brow at that. "SMG's a loud noisy son of a bitch with no subtly. Should train in a pistol if you have the time." He lets his eyes drift closed then, settling further in to the water. "This goddamn hot tub was worth every damn dime…"

Wisp shrugs and likewise sinks lower. "Remember my job's not getting hit. SMGs make people scatter. But all right. And you're right. This thing is wonderful. Thanks for letting me enjoy it with you."

"Any time." He says then, letting his voice drop soft. He looks over at the woman, the way the steam curls up and around her features. "I want… to be perfectly clear on something. And I want to do it up front. Right here, right now."

At that, she opens her eyes and turns to look at Johny, expression serious. "What's that, then?"

"I." He says, his gaze level… "Am a professional. I've been doing this for longer than you've been alive. I put myself in a hole by reacting irrationally, through emotion and pain and greif… and I spent 10 years clawing my way out. I'm back on top now, and it's because I am a -professional-. I do this for a living. I'm not moon lighting, I'm not some trust find kiddie pissed off at daddy, I'm not an ex military merc doing it for the thrills and because he can't get his last tour out of his mind. I'm doing this because I am -good- at it. That means the people who work for me, need to be able to interface with me when I have my game face on."

He pauses. "My game face is not nice. It is not coddling, it is not understanding. It is not anything but, for that moment, your boss and the one who cuts the check for what you're doing for him. THat relationship doesn't hold anywhere but in that moment, and in that moment, there -is- no other relationship. Am I very clear?"

Wisp straightens all the more, meeting that level gaze, her own expression serious. The fact that she holds his gaze and does not answer right away may speak to how intently she is taking what is said. And when she does answer, her words are softly spoken but firm as steel. "I understand that here and now we're Johny and Jamileh and out there we're employer and employee. I don't expect or want a trace of quarter from you, sir, no matter what happens between us here. I might be new to this side of business, but I know bloody well that mistakes cost lives."

Johny nods then, settling back in the water. "I've lost runners. But only when they fucked up hard core. It's why I use a feeling-out period, a few lowball runs to see how good or how bad they are. It's not about skill, either. SKill can be taught, trained, learned. But attitude? The right approach to the job? That, you either have… or don't have. I think you have it. I'm willing to -gamble- that you do."

"After being trained for fifteen years not to fuck up? Yes, sir, I do," Jamileh states firmly. A few seconds pass before she goes on to say, "I expect you to be even harder on me, you know. No matter what. Discipline makes or breaks the game. I may look like an easy lay with no head between my shoulders, but damn it, Johny, I can be ice when the time comes."

"Honey, if you looked like that?" He says with a laugh that echos in the little grotto. "I'd not have bothered bringing you back for lunch. I am very particular about the people I talk to, much less invite home. Out there.." He gestures out over the city… "I have a face. A face of the gregarious ass hole, hitting on anything that moves, but almost comical in his inability to score. It's a cultured image, and one I hold dear. But. For all of that, I don't think with my cock. And I don't talk to people who do. Save in very special situations, there was a shaman of the Seductress totem. she thought with her pussy, but that's par for the course."

Relaxed, without the playful facade of earlier, more apparently herself now, Wisp continues to look at this man beside her. Very quietly she says, "You're a right dangerous man, aren't you, Mr. Wulfson?" And it's not really a question, more a statement of fact.

"There are a hundred thousand cliches and bond lines I can deliver here." He says with a shrug. "And none of them say anything but negative things about me and they belittle your intelligence. I am competent at my trade. I am dedicated to success. In everything I do. Attention to detail, research and planning."

"And if someone crosses you…?" The question is left deliberately open-ended.

"It depends on the situation." He answers honestly. "I always try to figure out where the miscommunication. Try to defuse it. If defusing it isn't an option, I try to ignore it. If ignoring it isn't an option, I end it."

Wisp takes a deep breath. "I don't mean this as a come-on, but do you know how ruddy sexy is strength of character? And how…crikey, how bloody few men have it anymore. You could look like a whale and still be attractive because of that strength."

Johny shrugs. "Like I said. Bond-isms are for children. In the real world, wars cost money."

"I must look and sound like a child to you," she sighs. "Raw passion, raw talent. Raw everything."

Johny doesn't deny her statement. "ON the plus side. It means you're moldable. Mailable. Able to learn new tricks and able to learn good habits before the bad. It's not a bad thing. It just means you're at the starting line."

Wisp mmms. "More work," and a rueful smile emerges. "Thought that was why I left Sydney. Well…school's back in session. Can I ask you something then?"

Johny gestures one hand in a welcoming fashion.. "One proviso. Caveat Empetor. Buyer beware. Asking nothing you don't -really- want the answer to."

"Was all of this to test me out?" She gestures around them at the opulence, toward the pool, toward the leftover meal upstairs. "Absolutely no interest in me at all as a woman?"

"This.." He gestures around… "Is where I live. At least, it's where I keep my stuff and a few very legal fire arms. I was curious about you. I give everyone a chance to prove themselves either an idiot, or an asset. AT the park, you earned round two. Here, you earned round three. How old are you?" He asks then, not yet answering her final question.

Without malice Wisp comments, "I'm glad I got this far, then. I didn't realize for a while I was being tested and all. I'm 23."

Johny does the math on that. "Born in 46. Lets see. I was already a father." He says without malice of his own. "As a woman, you are attractive to me. I live in a world where everything I see, touch and hear is of a false nature, electrons fed in to my brain or the simulation of nervous impulse for touch. My only senses that are mine, are smell and taste; which is why I cook. You are real. And that is very attractive. I will not lie on that count, but I am not, as I said, ruled by my emotions nor my lusts. If I desire you, I will make that very clearly known if I feel its appropriate."

"Thank you," murmurs the young woman, "for that honesty. I just wanted to be clear on it as a future, since you made it very plain for a here and now. But that said….and I don't mean… Hell. We're clearly not going for a tumble today, but is a kiss out of the question. You did say 'taste'…."

He chuckles then, raising an eyebrow. "Thats a very forward. I don't mind forward in private." he says, thinking the matter over. "I do not feel that at this time… that kissing you would be appropriate. Maybe… sometime later."

Wisp's smile suggests that the answer was not only the one expected but the one desired. She closes her eyes again, sinking back into the bubbling water, and murmurs, "Try not to let me drown, then, right?"

«OOC» Wisp has had a completely lovely day but it's rather close to her bedtime.
«OOC» Johny nods. We can FTB here. Johny has Marcus drive you home in the vehicle of choice.

Wisp opens the door to the Front Room and steps inside.
Wisp has left.

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