[John, by nature of his profession, travels both within the United States and sometimes outside it on a regular basis. His latest case has taken him to Philadelphia. It's a rough town, but that's also part of its charm. As someone rough around the edges himself, John can appreciate authenticity over refinement.
He finds Paddy's Pub more through reputation than anything, internet be damned. Standing just inside the door as promised, is a bouncer. They seem to be nearly the same height, with John's trench coat hanging loosely off his thin frame. He looks toward the bouncer, demonstrating his status as an out-of-towner the moment he opens his mouth to reveal an accent that is at once scouse and a mixture of world travels.]
I don't suppose you're Mac?
Edited 2019-12-14 01:00 (UTC)
you're fantastic! also lol how is he even more of a disaster bi than the comic books, a true mystery
[Mac is bored as shit. He usually is during the thirty minutes or so that he actually bothers to do his job, because his attention span is about thirty seconds on a good day and it's torturous to think of all the other things he'd rather be doing, ranging from just kicking back with a beer to trying to use Paddy's to host a bodybuilding reality TV show. Hell, if he wasn't out here waiting for people to drop in and flash their ID, he could be putting together a posterboard presentation to try and woo Frank as a funder for this particular project. God knows he has enough magazines to create a quality collage.
That short attention span also means that he's already spaced on the fact that the person in front of him is likely the same dude who said he was British and wearing a trenchcoat responding to Mac's text misfire. Mac goes through his mental list of people who might ask for him by name, mostly people who probably have a bone to pick with him: the dude whose car they accidentally set on fire. The IRS. A McPoyle. One of those dummies who bought the raccoons he and Dee claimed were purebred pekinoodles. Secretly he hopes it's one of his dad's enemies come to try and take him hostage, which will serve the dual purpose of getting his dad to notice him and giving him an opportunity to show off how easy it is for someone of his mass and physique to avert crisis.
After about ten seconds of squinting things finally click into place. Right, foreign dude!]
Hey man, I know we hit it off on text but I can't let you in if you don't have ID in English.
[Mac doesn't know why, but he was kind of hoping that the dude was going to fill out the trenchcoat way more better. He sort of just looks like a tall, gangly wet cigarette now.]
lmao idk but i figured that these two can be delightfully trashy together 🤣
[Wow, excuse you Mac's internal dialogue. He's not wet. He would look even tinier if he was wet, duh.
The long squint is met with a casually unconcerned gaze right back. It's the statement that follows which receives a larger reaction. John raises his eyebrows high and looks around the bar. If any place were to not have standards, this would be it. He's surprised they have anyone working at the door at all. He's not insulted by the insinuation that he doesn't have an ID. He does have one of course, but it might be more entertaining to hold off for now.]
Flatterer.
[He throws Mac a casual wink, slipping both hands into his outer coat pockets.]
You can't honestly believe that I'm under 21, but I'll take the compliment anyway.
I run a tight ship. Nothing gets past me. [He absolutely let a seventeen year-old in earlier because that teenager claimed to be Canadian and "Canadians are legally allowed to drink at 16", which sounded wrong but just plausible enough that Mac wasn't going to put that much effort into caring.
He makes a "gimme" gesture with his hand. It's just a matter of principle.] Hand it over, dude, or I'll have to rough you up.
[Mac has zero idea that that could sound suggestive. He tilts his chin upwards and squares his shoulders in a fashion that he hopes matches that sweet slickback hair and his remaining pump from the gym this morning.]
[John remains rooted exactly where he stands. Then his hands dig even deeper into his pockets as if searching for his wallet. What he retrieves is not his ID, but instead a cigarette and lighter. The cigarette is placed firmly in his mouth and lit with a practiced flick of the thumb.
He's got to see what this "roughing up" consists of. When John speaks his demeanor is unconcerned, lit cigarette dangling between his lips as he rocks his weight to his hind foot.]
That so? Well. Might as well earn your pay sooner rather than later.
Dude, don't make me do this. [Mac can really turn up the whine when he wants it to; something about that whole "didn't get enough attention as a kid so settled for being really annoying" life habit of his. And he really doesn't want to actually fight this weird British guy, because he's pretty sure Brits get training from like, Interpol and stuff. They're not like the French or Swiss, who are just pussies across the board.]
If you don't have ID, you don't get in. And if you try, well, I'm going to have to bodyslam you. [He thinks he's likely bigger than John. John doesn't exactly look like he's filling out that admittedly-sweet trenchcoat. He reaches out an takes the cigarette from John's mouth and flicks it out the bar door.] And Philly law says we can't smoke indoors anymore because the state legislators are being paid off by Big Environment.
[Removing the cigarette from John's mouth was more initiative from Mac than John had expected. His eyes grow wide with surprise before he nods, impressed. Maybe this guy wasn't all talk after all.
With odds newly recalculated (now at 70/30 favoring walking in with no consequences instead of 95/5), John exits the bar without another word. He walks away from Mac and into the street... where he picks up the still glowing cigarette. After a quick blow through his lips John shoves the cigarette back into his mouth and marches back to the pub.
This time he doesn't stop or even acknowledge Mac, instead waltzing directly toward the bar and greeting the blond woman serving drinks with a wide smile.]
sincere apologies for the slow tags! holidays yada yada - would love to continue?
[Well, it wouldn't be the first (or fiftieth) (or six thousandth) time Mac's done something without thinking through the consequences, and while he wouldn't admit it to anyone living or dead, including himself, Mac's a bit of a pussy.]
Hey, bozo!
[Mac rushes in after John, looking a bit at a loss for a guy who habitually brags about being able to roundhouse kick a door down.]
I'm going to give you one last chance to get in line and then you're gonna regret it.
[The blonde woman, one Deandra Reynolds, looks pretty unimpressed with John, although there's a spark of curiosity regarding whether this stranger's going to beat Mac's ass, which she'd certainly enjoy seeing.]
[John helps himself onto the barstool, lifting up a finger to indicate he'd like to order a drink in absolute disregard for Mac's sputtering.]
Gin and tonic please, love. The man with the ineffective threats said he's buying.
[And then in a move that not only defies everything Mac's said about his job, but thoroughly indicates John as the cheapest of dates, the magician looks over his shoulder to Mac.]
[Mac's at a complete loss, especially because Dee looks almost hungry at the idea that he's worked himself into a trap he can't get out of. He can try to back up his threats and get his ass kicked. He could drop it and eat crow. He doesn't have the mental acuity to spirit up a third option.]
Only because you're foreign and don't know the laws. [He opts to eat crow, because when in doubt, drink. When uncertain, drink. When bored, drink. When happy, drink, and when sad, drink more. It's probably on that Eleventh Commandment Moses dumped somewhere.
He mouths "I am not buying" at Dee, which she already presumed because everyone's aware Mac doesn't even have his own bank account and only stops short by technicality of asking Dennis and Frank for an allowance.
Honestly, then instant he gets that first sip of beer he's like, twenty percent less annoyed and uneasy, because sitting around being useless and drinking is a nice familiar comfort zone.</small]
So you're saying not being of this country gives me license to get away with things? I like the sound of that. Cheers.
[He lifts the glass of beer in a toasting motion with delight in his eyes before taking a long drink.]
Now that Mac is not longer asking for it, John reaches into his wallet and produces two items of identification: his pre-Brexitdriving license and his business card. They're placed on the bar's top with two self-satisfied slaps, one for each.]
You'll get more out of me if you ply me with alcohol first.
[He gives Dee a contradictory statement to Mac by mouthing "Yes he is."]
Well, I think jurisdictional issues are involved with enforcing laws against Europeans. [Mac's not entirely sure that's correct, but he tends to dig in rather than admit he doesn't know which way is up when it comes to these things. Fortunately, when he starts to blow hot air he doesn't tend to stop and think if someone else in the room might actually know how things work.] I'm not official with Interpol or anything.
[Dee gives John a look like she isn't sure who the bigger chump is between Mac and the guy who thinks Mac has ever had money in his adult life, but she's trying to snag some turkey on Tinder right now and is more interested in pretending she's thirty-two and successfully starring in hair product commercials than listening in on what she's sure is going to be a dull conversation. She gives them space while Mac looks over the license and business card.
Oh, that's to show what kind of vehicles the license holder is legally allowed to drive.
[He flips over the card, denoting the pictogram which corresponds with the letters. He gives a languid shrug.]
They left out self-moving houses and spaceships, but that's a normie for ya, eh? I'm surprised out of everything that's what you choose to comment on. Or are dashingly handsome wizards commonplace around here?
[Christ, that's complicated. When he squints he still can't tell if the one on the top is a motorcycle or a tricycle, but it serves to reason that Europe, what with its communism and police state, would require people to need a license for those. You never know with this global politics stuff. Some of it will just gobsmack you.
He wrinkles his nose.]
Don't do that, fish for compliments. She does that, and it's gross. [He gestures with his head towards Dee, who's ignoring them and expressing a cruel little smirk as she hooks some jerk with a story about how she has a side hustle as a lawyer for her many celebrity friends. The way Mac says it implies that Dee's sort of his stand-in for every woman, ever, who isn't a mom and above the age of fifty-five. Women are just the worst.]
So, exorcisms. That's what we talked about, right? Do we have any bogies in the area?
There's a difference between fishing and saying what you know to be true. If you're a good looking man say so. [And then, just to be a shit.] Not you necessarily. Just a general observation.
[As far as the other matter, John could easily detect spirits in the area, but Jesus not now. He should at least get something for the trouble.]
I thought we were drinking. Are you really going to make me work while at the bar?
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hope this works for ya!
[John, by nature of his profession, travels both within the United States and sometimes outside it on a regular basis. His latest case has taken him to Philadelphia. It's a rough town, but that's also part of its charm. As someone rough around the edges himself, John can appreciate authenticity over refinement.
He finds Paddy's Pub more through reputation than anything, internet be damned. Standing just inside the door as promised, is a bouncer. They seem to be nearly the same height, with John's trench coat hanging loosely off his thin frame. He looks toward the bouncer, demonstrating his status as an out-of-towner the moment he opens his mouth to reveal an accent that is at once scouse and a mixture of world travels.]
I don't suppose you're Mac?
you're fantastic! also lol how is he even more of a disaster bi than the comic books, a true mystery
That short attention span also means that he's already spaced on the fact that the person in front of him is likely the same dude who said he was British and wearing a trenchcoat responding to Mac's text misfire. Mac goes through his mental list of people who might ask for him by name, mostly people who probably have a bone to pick with him: the dude whose car they accidentally set on fire. The IRS. A McPoyle. One of those dummies who bought the raccoons he and Dee claimed were purebred pekinoodles. Secretly he hopes it's one of his dad's enemies come to try and take him hostage, which will serve the dual purpose of getting his dad to notice him and giving him an opportunity to show off how easy it is for someone of his mass and physique to avert crisis.
After about ten seconds of squinting things finally click into place. Right, foreign dude!]
Hey man, I know we hit it off on text but I can't let you in if you don't have ID in English.
[Mac doesn't know why, but he was kind of hoping that the dude was going to fill out the trenchcoat way more better. He sort of just looks like a tall, gangly wet cigarette now.]
lmao idk but i figured that these two can be delightfully trashy together 🤣
The long squint is met with a casually unconcerned gaze right back. It's the statement that follows which receives a larger reaction. John raises his eyebrows high and looks around the bar. If any place were to not have standards, this would be it. He's surprised they have anyone working at the door at all. He's not insulted by the insinuation that he doesn't have an ID. He does have one of course, but it might be more entertaining to hold off for now.]
Flatterer.
[He throws Mac a casual wink, slipping both hands into his outer coat pockets.]
You can't honestly believe that I'm under 21, but I'll take the compliment anyway.
bless :D
He makes a "gimme" gesture with his hand. It's just a matter of principle.] Hand it over, dude, or I'll have to rough you up.
[Mac has zero idea that that could sound suggestive. He tilts his chin upwards and squares his shoulders in a fashion that he hopes matches that sweet slickback hair and his remaining pump from the gym this morning.]
no subject
He's got to see what this "roughing up" consists of. When John speaks his demeanor is unconcerned, lit cigarette dangling between his lips as he rocks his weight to his hind foot.]
That so? Well. Might as well earn your pay sooner rather than later.
no subject
If you don't have ID, you don't get in. And if you try, well, I'm going to have to bodyslam you. [He thinks he's likely bigger than John. John doesn't exactly look like he's filling out that admittedly-sweet trenchcoat. He reaches out an takes the cigarette from John's mouth and flicks it out the bar door.] And Philly law says we can't smoke indoors anymore because the state legislators are being paid off by Big Environment.
no subject
With odds newly recalculated (now at 70/30 favoring walking in with no consequences instead of 95/5), John exits the bar without another word. He walks away from Mac and into the street... where he picks up the still glowing cigarette. After a quick blow through his lips John shoves the cigarette back into his mouth and marches back to the pub.
This time he doesn't stop or even acknowledge Mac, instead waltzing directly toward the bar and greeting the blond woman serving drinks with a wide smile.]
sincere apologies for the slow tags! holidays yada yada - would love to continue?
Hey, bozo!
[Mac rushes in after John, looking a bit at a loss for a guy who habitually brags about being able to roundhouse kick a door down.]
I'm going to give you one last chance to get in line and then you're gonna regret it.
[The blonde woman, one Deandra Reynolds, looks pretty unimpressed with John, although there's a spark of curiosity regarding whether this stranger's going to beat Mac's ass, which she'd certainly enjoy seeing.]
more than happy to! i'll always backtag!
Gin and tonic please, love. The man with the ineffective threats said he's buying.
[And then in a move that not only defies everything Mac's said about his job, but thoroughly indicates John as the cheapest of dates, the magician looks over his shoulder to Mac.]
Care to have a drink with me?
no subject
Only because you're foreign and don't know the laws. [He opts to eat crow, because when in doubt, drink. When uncertain, drink. When bored, drink. When happy, drink, and when sad, drink more. It's probably on that Eleventh Commandment Moses dumped somewhere.
He mouths "I am not buying" at Dee, which she already presumed because everyone's aware Mac doesn't even have his own bank account and only stops short by technicality of asking Dennis and Frank for an allowance.
Honestly, then instant he gets that first sip of beer he's like, twenty percent less annoyed and uneasy, because sitting around being useless and drinking is a nice familiar comfort zone.</small]
no subject
[He lifts the glass of beer in a toasting motion with delight in his eyes before taking a long drink.]
Now that Mac is not longer asking for it, John reaches into his wallet and produces two items of identification: his
pre-Brexitdriving license and his business card. They're placed on the bar's top with two self-satisfied slaps, one for each.]You'll get more out of me if you ply me with alcohol first.
[He gives Dee a contradictory statement to Mac by mouthing "Yes he is."]
no subject
[Dee gives John a look like she isn't sure who the bigger chump is between Mac and the guy who thinks Mac has ever had money in his adult life, but she's trying to snag some turkey on Tinder right now and is more interested in pretending she's thirty-two and successfully starring in hair product commercials than listening in on what she's sure is going to be a dull conversation. She gives them space while Mac looks over the license and business card.
Mac gestures at the bottom row of the license.]
What then hell is number nine?
no subject
[He flips over the card, denoting the pictogram which corresponds with the letters. He gives a languid shrug.]
They left out self-moving houses and spaceships, but that's a normie for ya, eh? I'm surprised out of everything that's what you choose to comment on. Or are dashingly handsome wizards commonplace around here?
no subject
He wrinkles his nose.]
Don't do that, fish for compliments. She does that, and it's gross. [He gestures with his head towards Dee, who's ignoring them and expressing a cruel little smirk as she hooks some jerk with a story about how she has a side hustle as a lawyer for her many celebrity friends. The way Mac says it implies that Dee's sort of his stand-in for every woman, ever, who isn't a mom and above the age of fifty-five. Women are just the worst.]
So, exorcisms. That's what we talked about, right? Do we have any bogies in the area?
no subject
[As far as the other matter, John could easily detect spirits in the area, but Jesus not now. He should at least get something for the trouble.]
I thought we were drinking. Are you really going to make me work while at the bar?