♫ Baby, we're the new romantics - Come on, come along with me ♫

[crotchstallion]

WHO: Handsome Jack, Harleen Quinzel, Jeff Winger, Dr. Frederick Chilton, Crocodile, possibly more to come
WHERE: Many places throughout the Porter Cities, mostly Heropa locales for now.
WHEN: Throughout September
WHAT: Jack goes on dates with everyone. Sexy dates, bro dates, psychiatric dates. Just dates.
WARNINGS: Language, Psychiatry, Sexy talk(??), Strippers (Bro date with Jeff) - It's Handsome Jack. Will update as necessary.


Beach Date with Harley - September 2rd, early afternoon
[So far, there was nothing that could convince Jack that out of all the ladies here, Harley was not his dream girl. She had a good sense of humor, she was cute, and very athletic (like dayum), plus she seemed like the kind of girl that would be into a little danger. Which would be good, if she is. Hypothetically. Who knows what the future holds.

It'd just be good if she's on his side should he ever end up in a serious position of power here. That's the dream, there.

But yeah, he's already got one commitment back home but while he's here why not play around? And she is perfect so he asks her out for a little easygoing beach fun after his brief morning shift at his little slice of patience-testing retail hell.

The joke is on him of course because Jack is good at many things, talking a big game being one of them, but when it comes to casual fluffy date shit, he is actually quite terrible at it. Also there is not a single beach on Pandora that isn't overrun with monsters in some way or another.]

So... Lots of things we could do. If you haven't eaten yet, we could grab a bite, maybe a couple drinks - five o' clock somewhere, right? [Haha,] what's calling out to ya? [Oh god he's so awkward, this hurts. Why is he terrible at dates that don't involve violence?]

Strip Club Bro Date with Jeff - September 4th, late night party o'clock
[Now this is more his scene. Hot ladies of all shapes and sizes taking their clothes off for money while having a good time, a handsomely chinned wingman (THE Wingman, haha what are the odds? Has to be intentional), and a little extra dough to fling around for the occasion.

This is gonna be a hell of a night.]

Check out the sweet ass on her! [He gestures to one of the dancers, lacy briefs that seem to show off the way her booty, hips, and legs all come together in perfect unity. Craftsmanship at its finest, from science, that lingerie designer, and whatever life that lady led to have such a great shape.]

Freudian Bar Date with Dr. Chilton - September 11th, evening
[Personally, Jack still would have preferred the karaoke bar because it's not like anyone is going to be interested in conversation there, and it's loud so no one would be able to overhear. Private enough but oh well.

The lounge has an ambient chatter that works as a decent privacy filter without being so present that you can't even make out your own thoughts, mingling in with the smooth jazz that's playing overhead. Clearly from a radio in the back somewhere and not the unattended instruments on the corner stage across the way. It was a Friday night so maybe there'd be live music sometime later.

He's already ordered himself a rum and coke while he waits, mentioning to the host that he was meeting someone and left the name of who he was expecting, but still he watches the door and waits, waving when he sees him enter and the host look in his direction.

Seeing his face, the memory of his temper flickering to the surface on the network comes back to him and he actually prays that he of all people did not see that. But he also takes in a breath and prepares himself for the worst if he has, and whatever silent judgements lie in waiting. When the host ushers Chilton over to the booth, Jack takes a moment to scoot out and stand, holding out a hand to shake and mustering up the most polite smile he can. Manners and all that fancy schmoozing stuff.]

Handsome Jack. Drinks on me, have whatever you'd like. [Please let buttering him up work. Please.]

Comments

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Handsome Jack. Chilton said nothing about the moniker, of course, he wasn't explicitly courting antagonism -- yet. But it was a point of reference that he yearned to delve into. The inspiration of the name was as obvious as Handsome Jack's visage, of course, but it took a specific breed of narcissism to introduce yourself to your psychiatrist with a straight face and that name on your lips.

Chilton offered a smile, one intentionally placid, and a softer handshake.]

Generous of you. [And it was. But generosity did not come without its price, did it?] You have certainly trained them well.

[The direction to Jack had been quick, and the psychiatrist knew he had been expected; it wasn't a service he was used to. Chilton's eyes flicked at the host, glancing once top to bottom before his attention calcified onto Jack's own self.]

Do they heel for the sake of that very generosity you've got on display, or because you have such a forceful personality?

[crotchstallion]

[Jack's grip is much firmer - when strangling people is something of a hobby, it just comes with the territory -, but he does ease up a bit as he notes the gentler grip that Chilton has.

He laughs at whatever it could be that Chilton is implying, whateeever that could be. Haha, hm, no idea.]

It's their job, so it's not unusual to expect a good host to do that, right? [He pulls out a few bills and tips the host, thanking them before they leave.] Though, I am very good at giving directions and providing good incentives to people who serve me. That's just part of running a successful business!

[He gestures to the seat across from him in the booth to invite Chilton to sit.]

You know, when most people tip, they just think of the wait staff that served them and overlook the host, but they do such important work. People can be so hard to herd; they deserve acknowledgement as well. [Look at Jack, look at how considerate and sympathetic he is of all the cogs in a machine.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Herd. Deserve. Incentives. Serve. Words that flashed before Chilton's eyes, linguistic echoes that reverberated after Narcissus; language and that choice inherent, thought Chilton, was indicative of so much. Predictor of socioeconomic status, educational level, confidence, skill, yes -- but language also manifested philosophy. Personal perspective. Interpersonal relevance.

Handsome Jack thought himself above the people in this room, concluded Chilton. But how far above the psychiatrist? That was worth investigation.]

Your generosity performs once more. [Chilton murmured, his drawl soft and coiled, as he slipped into the booth as directed by Jack.] But charity isn't so evenly spliced, is it? Its legacy speaks of a virtue -- but some know better.

[Chilton dipped his chin towards his chest, his eyebrows raised. The gesture was unobtrusive while maintaining some degree of coyness. The implication wasn't subtle: Jack, he thought, was someone who knew better.]

Some know how to wield gifts and tokens like cages. Domination is highly fluid in its manifestation.

[Beat.]

I think I'll have a Manhattan.

[He liked those little orange rind swirls.]

[crotchstallion]

[Jack can see where his words are going, and he can admit to the truth there. His existence had become so tinted from his rule over Hyperion. Some admired him for his power, and others admired him for having power over them. It was his control over their lives that lead to the admiration. Or that's what he chose to believe, anyway.

But how else do you explain someone kissing your feet so much they'd die of joy from being spat on or a punch to the face? Really now...

A sigh. He misses having that kind of power. There's so little satisfaction being in the middle of the ladder again. But no time to linger in depression - a sick spiral he aggressively tries not to fall into again, and he shoots a couple finger guns at Chilton, clicking his tongue.]

Right away, mi amigo! [It takes a quick glance to conclude that hopping his way up to the bar would be more expedient than waving someone over so, conveniently still on his feet, he makes his way towards his destination. Chit chats with the bartender as they make up the drink. Even as he escorts the drink with care back to the booth and sits, it's clear that Jack carries himself with the image of a king, strides filled with purpose and shoulders back with pride.]

So, I'm a bit curious: why psychology? I know at least a basic history of its growth over time and all that, but it's more like a hobby than a profession in my time, so I just wonder what inspired you to dip into it. [As much as he likes to talk about himself, this is also one of those moments where he feels like it'd be useful for him to know more about the party across the table.]

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Chilton squinted at those finger guns. Finger guns. It seems absurd to be on the receiving end of such a gesture. His gaze slide back to Jack's face, and Chilton minimized his frown for the sake of slick, polite oil. Jack seemed like the type of man who could appreciate a little oil slick.]

Knowledge is power. [An answer that Chilton thought Handsome Jack could appreciate. His company did not suggestion any naiveté in his speech nor his mannerisms, and Chilton figured a sharper, truer answer would serve his ambitions with Jack better than the implied alternative.] What better sort of knowledge is there, than that of the human mind? And the consequential behavior output, of course.

[If knowledge is power, then knowledge of human behavior is knowledge over humanity.]

Charity isn't the only form of domination, after all. [Spoken with a soft smile and a tilt of his head.] But really, Jack, aren't we here to discuss you? Maybe we should begin with your current emotional state.

[crotchstallion]

Me? I'm good. Excellent. Feeling so damn fine, like a grade zero diamond. [There's a shiver there. Jack totally gets it, and slowly it sinks in how such a thing so undervalued where you could just shoot a man and call things square versus here where things have a much more elegant design could be held with a greater sense of regard. And he does respect the elegant design as much as he loves killing a man.

So, taking a second to reevaluate his stance on this, and also downing the rest of his drink to wash away the quiver in his nerves, he decides that playing games in this moment isn't going to do him anymore favors than it already has or hasn't.]

You saw it. [That's not a question. It is an assumption, but he feels like it's only fair that he could come to that conclusion. Chilton was in that post, asking Rhys questions, and he fucked up by not locking that exchange from the beginning.]

You wannna talk about that?

[slightlyoffchilt]

Such is your prerogative. [The illusion of control proved to be quite a beguiling tactic.] You're the patient, and despite the unorthodox setting, you will instruct the conversation.

[Prerogative and instruct. Chilton wasn't running subtle on his tone. The psychiatrist was fairly confident that Jack referred to Rhys -- there was an evident connection between the two, after all. But he wasn't willing to commit and risk losing his significant authority. Better to let Jack set the tone, the topic, and the tenor between them.

That would make it easier for Chilton to know what to grasp and hold onto.]

Another drink?

[Already.

He eyed Jack's demolished one, and figured the demeanor shift meant serious business. But an inebriated Handsome Jack was probably a more pliable one -- and Chilton was willing to take that kind of gamble. Leaning a touch closer, the psychiatrist mimicked spatial intimacy and coupled it with a mildly concerned (but nevertheless interested) expression.]

[textualhealing]

[There wasn't many things better in this world than boobs and booze, and this place certainly had both of those in abundance. And what better way to get to know another man than share in the joy of barely dressed women shaking their talent to rhythmic beats? Clearly this idea was the greatest of all, which means Jeff's pretty sure it was his idea and not Jacks.]

If you don't have that ass in your lap by the end of tonight, my friend, then we're both doing something very wrong. [He decides in true wingman fashion, eyeing up that passing booty for just a little too long. Yup, he's going to be easily distracted in here. It may have been a while since he last got some...]

[crotchstallion]

[Agree to disagree - there's that saying about great minds and something possibly brainwashingly utopian or something something. Obviously it involved some mutual brainstorming where the end goal was tits, and that's just simple math.]

The only wrong there is if we're not doing anything. [Wink, nudge, eyebrow raise, kaching. You know what he's talking about.] What about you, anyone - or more than ones - [wink wink] catching your eye?

[textualhealing]

[Any end goal that involves tits is fine by Jeff. Clearly this will all work out fine.]

I dunno. I might have to strike a conversation with a few of them and find out if we share similar interests... [Slow. Smirk. Dohohoho he's making a funny. ] Naaaaaah, just kidding. The red head with the great tits.

[Pointing her out as he veers towards the undoubtedly overpriced bar.] You want anything to drink?

Oasis lounge, Nonah

[sunasuna]

[Once Jack enters the dimly lit lounge, it's rather difficult for him to miss Crocodile. Smoking a cigar, wearing a fur coat - with what appears to be a baby alligator sitting on his shoulder - and looking comically large in comparison to the table at the booth he's sitting in, hunched over and reading through sheets of paperwork.

Though he'll look up and give him a sidelong glance should he venture over.]

Do I know you? [He does, actually. But the last time Handsome Jack saw him, Crocodile was hallucinating. So, as far as he's concerned, there's no reason for Crocodile to recognize or remember him.]

[crotchstallion]

[Ah yes. This guy. Drink in hand, he was just strolling past when the hint of recognition stops him, an eyebrow raising in an instant. Huh. Well isn't that a wonder of the human brain?

It has been pretty boring since the swearing-in event, and this could at least make for an interesting night... So, smile creeping on his face, he decides he'll just sit himself down at the booth, right across from Crocodile.]

I'm amazed you remember! After all, it was one hell of a party that night.

[sunasuna]

Ah. [He takes a slightly longer drag from his cigar, and blows out several rings before he bothers to acknowledge Jack again.]

And which one were you that night? It's hard to keep track of all the idiots I run into.

[itistolaugh]

[ The good thing about beach dates is you can see the goods and be seen. It's hard to hide flaws in beach clothes so it's like a pre-screening of the action without having to commit. Harley likes what she sees, so she'll stick around. ]

I think there's a beachfront bar somewhere down that way. It's as good a start as any!

[ She cozies up next to him and slides an arm around his waist while they walk. She knows what she's here for. No point being coy about it. ]