maskormenacelogs | closed | If you work hard, you'll succeed --

Entry tags:

closed | If you work hard, you'll succeed --

WHO: Darlene + Jeff Winger
WHERE: Star and Cobalt, a trendy cafe in De Chima
WHEN: backdated to 8/5
WHAT: Darlene meets big shot TV lawyer Jeff Winger to ""tell him her secrets"" and get an autograph! or something.
WARNINGS: language

Okay, first of all, the venue of Darlene's choice? Is bullshit.

Exposed brick, glossy recycled wood tabletops with the usual predictable single-sunflower-in-a-mason-jar centerpieces in the center. A tiny menu written on a chalkboard. Cucumber water. Tiny sandwiches. This does not look like the 1950s. And yet the place is crowded enough to offer some anonymity without being overcrowded, loud enough to offer some cover without being effing deafening, and douchey enough that Darlane will never come back, which, honestly, makes it pretty perfect.

The crowd trends young, which means Darlene fits in without actually fitting in. Big sunglasses, coat stuffed in her slouchy backpack, shorts, kneesocks, heeled boots. She pushes her sunglasses up onto her forehead when she enters--thanks, low lighting--and does a quick scan, face cast bored and dispassionate. Her late arrival is purposeful and calculated, but also it's for the best, since she knows what Jeff Winger TV Lawyer looks like, and he doesn't know jack about her.

Which is perfect. Darlene strolls over to his table when she finds him, her heels clicking on the polished concrete floor.

"Hi," she says, and slips her backpack off her shoulders. It makes a loud muffled thunk when it hits the chair.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's nothing like walking into a cafe full of early twenties to make Jeff feel his age. He plays it well though, casual and confident in his fashionable as fuck skinny jeans and blue shirt (sleeves rolled to his elbows), both of which likely cost far more than they should. It helps that he's a recognisable face to some, making him feel far less like that old dude sitting by himself and much more like that famous imPort guy who's chosen the coolest of hangouts.

He orders his coffee, black, no sugar, and takes a seat near the corner, trying to avoid the tables that seem intent on casting frequent glances over at him. He's not here to mingle with fans, here's here to find out who the hell this anon poster is for the sheer sake of curiosity. There's some time taken to scan the cafe, trying to avoid too much eye contact while attemtping to pick out who may or may not be this anon imPort, because perhaps they're already here, watching and waiting for him. Perhaps they won't show up, and this whole thing was just an excuse to stand him up. At least he has coffee...

But then she's here, breezy and cool and somehow just as he expected without ever really expecting anything.

"Hi." He moves to his feet in some vague attempt at manners. "Uh. Anon, right?"

Darlene favors her famous friend with a tight smile and a lift of her eyebrows. That's a yes. She pulls her chair back away from the table, swings her bag around so she can drape its shoulder straps over the back, then folds herself heavily into the chair.

After a beat in which she studies him, she leans forward, elbows on the table, shoulders hunched.

"I kinda can't believe you made time for me. It is such an honor."

Still no name given. That's fine, he can just keep with Anon, seems to suit her well enough judging by first impressions.

He drops back into his own seat lightly, instinctively reaching for his coffee to stake claim to it as his very own and drag it towards him, meeting her forward lean with his own backwards one, slouching deeper into his seat. They can go ahead and study each other, because he makes no attempts to hide his avid gaze. New company keep this place interesting.

"And I can't believe you actually showed up. Not gonna lie, I kinda assumed this was gonna be an excuse to leave me high and dry, but here we are..." Leaving that last word hanging, an uncertainty of exactly why they're here, but here they are!

"You wanna coffee?"

"I didn't want to hurt your ego too bad." How sweet, right? The flat way that she says it kind of takes a healthy dose of kindness out of it. Darlene leans her elbow against the table and sticks her chin in her hand, with another little smile. "Do you really want to buy me a coffee? I thought this was open confession."

Coffee isn't any more her scene than confessing. Neither of those are reasons for why Darlene has bothered to be here. Part of it is just because. Part of it has to do with contacts--not that he'll be of any use, probably, but given how little she has to work with, starting somewhere is better than nowhere. The TV industry might be total shit, but worming in there is always lucrative.

"This isn't a confession, it's a chat, and normal people chat over coffee. I figured that's why you picked this place." Because they are normal people. Normal people having a totally normal discussion about normal things.

... If it wasn't obvious enough already, Jeff's not actually sure why he's here at all or why she even agreed to meet up. He didn't even know who he was agreeing to meet up with in the first place, and maybe that's the entirety of it. Curiosity sure is a thing.

"God, okay, norm."

Like he had to twist her arm. Darlene pushes back from the table and unzips her backpack with extra force. She keeps the interior angled for her eyes only, and fishes around for a few seconds, looking for something.

"Do they have those Starbucks apps where you're from? Like synced up with your bank account, and you can order from across the city and then you get there and they have your no-foam skinny bitch latte? I never thought I'd say this," here we go, she has her wallet in hand now, and she zips back up the backpack, "but I actually miss that shit."

Less for the convenience, more for the super convenience of hacking people's Starbucks apps and getting free drinks. She glances up at the counter. "What did you get?"

Look how normal-person this is.

"I actually didn't, no." Because his college did coffee and that was way more convenient, even if the coffee tasted pretty shitty for the most part. Laziness beats quality. Although honestly Jeff just drank scotch because obviously that was a suitable early morning pick-me-up, and don't even try and tell him he might have a problem.

"Black coffee. Just tell me what you want and I'll get it, my treat. You can just pay next time or some crap."

Or never, he knows how these kind of meetings work. Doesn't matter, he's pretty loaded thanks to a certain successful TV and lawyering career, and having the big bucks means he can afford to splash out on the occasional extra coffee. Big spender over here.

"Um, what kind of a girl do you think I am," Darlene says, pointedly--but then after a beat, she withdraws her hand from her backpack. "JK. Black coffee for me too."

She lets her backpack sink back to the floor, a quiet huff of the stiff durable material and a heavier thud when whatever's inside hits the floor. Clearly nothing valuable, given Darlene's lack of reaction. Instead she treats him to a smile.

"That is super generous of you, TV guy. Is this a publicity thing, a suck up thing, or are you always this free with your cheapo coffees?"

Please don't be whatever kind of girl shouts at him for offering to buy coffee--... oh, okay good, she's not.

"I'm just a generous kind of guy when it comes to drinks. Don't expect much more than a free coffee, though." Because he may be loaded but it's his money and he's the only one who truly deserves to enjoy it. So kind and sharing. With that said, he heads to the counter, thankfully missing and long line of coffee buyers and instead managing to go straight through the process with barely any wait time. It helps that black coffee takes all of a minute to make too.

When he returns it's with a large coffee in hand, taking his seat once again and sliding it over to her.

"So. Be honest. What did you come here for? Because I'm betting it wasn't the coffee."

"Why not? I like free shit." Darlene pops the lid off of her cup and picks it up, blows carefully across the top of it to cool down the contents. The rising steam gives her that whole mini-facial feeling, warm and enveloping. One of the seriously nice things about hot drinks, hands down.

"I mean, you did promise me the chance to spill my guts. Or, maybe I was looking for a friend." She peeks at him through her eyelashes, with a wry grin. "Bet you don't buy that. Idk, dude. It's friggin weird here and I wanted to meet a TV douche in person. See if you have any useful deets on the way this whole shit works since you happily swallowed the join-or-die Kool Aid."

"Hey, just because I'm raking in on the ease of success around here, doesn't mean I'm supporting anything this Government are trying to make us do. I haven't joined anything, I'm just taking all this free money and popularity while I can get it." And he's got zero shame about doing so either.

He stares down at his own half drunk coffee and frowns lightly, thoughtful. "Besides, I kind of like it here... Around here you get to be someone. I'm a TV star and I run a successful law firm, you don't get many people who can achieve that kind of crap in a year."

Jeff's successful. Back home he's nothing.

"Cool, congrats," Darlene says, blandly, "you fucking sell-out."

She sips at the free coffee that his free money just bought for her judgmental ass, very cool. This is another way of taking advantage of a system.

"I mean, dude. You know you can't say you're not joined up if you're playing their game, right? I'd ask you to show me your wrist but since these tats are in some super cool invisible ink--" She shrugs. "That's pretty much the best thing about them."

"I'm registered, if that's what you're talking about." He's got no shame about having that word embedded on his wrist, although he'd prefer it not being a tattoo. The Government don't have his support any more than the one back home did, but he's not going to deny the fact that free money and super powers are pretty damn awesome.

"I'm a lawyer, my job is to keep people out of trouble, not be the guy stirring up trouble with the authorities. No one's gonna wanna employ a guy who paints a target on his own back."

"You're a TV lawyer." In case he needed reminding. She raises her eyebrows as she takes another long slow sip of her coffee. "Doesn't the network book your clients for you? Wring the max drama out of every last broadcasted sec?"

"Aaactually I'm a just a normal lawyer too. I got onscreen and off screen clients. I mean, some of the people I deal with really wouldn't want their crap aired on TV so I keep a legit business running too." Because it's illegal as shit, is what he's saying, although that's pretty standard for any lawyer and he seems more than okay with it judging by his casual lounging. He's doing his very best not to put his feet up on the desk.

"We only film for a few months a year, so I occupy myself with real life lawyering when the show's between seasons."

"Oh yeah?"

She tips her chair forward so she can put her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. Now she looks a little interested.

" 'Lawyering' makes you sound super profesh. What kind of crap? In general. I know you probably can't just spill your guts 'cause I asked you to, your clients, confidentiality, blah blah. But in general."

Interest is always better than abuse and snide comments, let Jeff just wallow in the fact that she might actually be listening to him now.

"Like defense attorney kinda crap. Back home I specialised in drink and drug charges, DUIs, that kinda stuff, here I'm focusing on imPort law. Buuuut I'll do basically any case that pays, and I'll win it too." This is a guy with a whole bunch of confidence and a love for the simplicity that is imPort law.

Simplicity. Right. About that: Darlene tips her head to one side.

"Is it because you basically have to do dick to defend imPorts?" She's good at getting to the heart of bullshit, okay. Filing all his specialties away in the meantime, just in case it's ever needed. Doubtful, but it's always good to know what resources are available to you. That's what she's here for.

As much of a narcissistic dickbag as he can be, Jeff can be an extremely useful guy to have on side when shit goes south. Lawyering also comes with some great connections, after all.

"Pretty much!" Not even denying it. At least he's honest... sometimes.

"We get little more than a slap on the wrist for even the extreme crap like murder. Being an imPort is practically like diplomatic immunity, it's great, but even imPorts need legal representation."

At least he's honest is pretty much what Darlene is thinking too. Not exactly impressed. Maybe a little grimly amused, which means he gets a flat sirk out of her. Reading you loud and clear, Jeff.

"I can't tell if I'm super excited to go on a crime spree, or super pissed that someone out there thinks we're all easily bought by perks that turn us into the major privileged assholes of this world." She takes a beat, sips at her coffee. "Oh, wait. It's the latter. I'm no moral authority, but if consequences are gonna be fucked, they should be fucked for everyone. Anything else is the kind of controlled chaos that fucks it all up. And being in the elite is not my scene."

"Should, but aren't. All imPorts finally get to experience what it's like to be a rich white male, and hey I am one, so it's double the privilege." One of the few things he's not been hugely smug about, rather more matter of fact.

"You're not gonna go supervillain on us and try to balance out the consequences, are you? Pretty sure the Russians would love to meet you if you do."

"Congrats, white boy, I'm applauding you in my head." But not. As to the question of the Russians, Darlene grabs her coffee with a snort.

"My expertise in half-assing a language is my shitty comprehension of Chinese, not Russian, so no. I'm not interested in partnering up with anybody. Plus if I was gonna go supervillian, I wouldn't be having a coffee date to talk about it. I'd either hire your ass and ask for legal counsel, or keep that shit to myself."

Which isn't exactly a no. Serene, she takes another sip.

"So are you for real with your up front douche attitude on this, or is there some tiny piece of you that takes into consideration that we've been dubiously crowned with bullshit reasons. Like what do you actually think about the potential for extreme power abuse in this fucked system. I don't mean TV lawyer answer, I mean a real answer."

Wow, she really is hammering him on all this honesty and ethics crap, huh? Tough break for Jeff who spends the majority of his life talking about how great he is and lying through his teeth about literally everything (including how great he is, oh the sadness and man woes).

Amazingly he does fall silent for a moment, thoughtful as he leans back heavily, balancing his chair on two legs.

"I think we're all getting fucked, one way or another, locals and imPorts. When there's separate rules, separate laws, it creates a bigger divide, it rises up one while kicks the other to the ground. `Oh, he murdered a bunch of people? Well, that's okay because he can shoot fire out of his ass. He's special. He's better than you through literally no effort of his own.' It's rich kid syndrome, right? Daddy will always buy you out of trouble because you're the lucky fucker who got born into it."

"Shit, dude. Listen to you." There's a note of something like approval in Darlene's voice. Or maybe it's amusement. She shifts forward again and puts her chin in her hand, with a grin. "That is some straight seditious talk. I like it."

And isn't it nice to be liked? The part she doesn't like is the part where she had to lean on him in order for him to admit all of it. Not surprising. People are people no matter where you are. The common M.O. is self preservation and also getting to rake it in. No surprise that a dude with a cushy TV gig is two-faced.

"So, basically," she concludes for him, "you hate your clients."

For once Jeff isn't going to use her vague approval as bragging rights or ego stroking, for once he's going to keep a lid on it, sip at his coffee and shrug nonchalantly.

"I don't hate my clients, I hate everyone. This place is full of shitty people shielded by shitty laws, but there's literally no other way to control it. They tried the magical supervillain prison, more than once by my understanding, and they just tend to get blown up. So between the choice of pumping billions into trying to contain a few, or letting us police our own with probation officers and all that crap? Obviously they're gonna go for the latter."

All this hate, and yet he still manages to love his job. He likes the challenges, likes the winning, likes the ego stroking and the money, it all suits him far too well to give up.

"Sounds to me like the problem is trying to control this shit."

Too anarchist for a casual coffee date? Whatever. Darlene smiles, almost sweetly, like she didn't just suggest annihilating inherent systems of government in a world that has very little to do with them. Blame her openness on inspiration born from their deep connection, or whatever.

He did just admit to hating everyone, after all.

"Soooo, what? You're suggesting they should't have any level of control over us? That we should do whatever the crap we want with no consequences?"

He's not so sure he likes the idea of anything resembling that idea, it'd put him out of business and that'd mean no stacks of cash for him to take home and buy lots of expensive clothing.

"Please tell me how is us doing whatever we want without consequences is any different than what's going on. Spoilers," before he can offer anything in way of an answer, "it's not. The system is an effed-up obsolete joke that stopped being funny a long time ago. Why is anyone keeping up the pretense when the consequences are all half-assed anyways?"

She folds her arms over her chest with finality. Although-- "I guess you'd be out of a job if they trashed the game. There's the diff. I think a dude who can make it as a TV lawyer can survive pretty much anything, so I'm sorry if I'm not on a crying jag thinking about your unemployment."

That comment about his survival will be taken as a compliment, a small amount of flattery that will allow Jeff to forgive virtually anything else said. Not that he's all that offended by her lack of care over his employment.

"Got it in one, though. No law, no lawyers. My substantial pay cheque would go down to nothing overnight if that happened. We need these kind of weak ass methods of control to keep guys like me in business. Do you know how much I spend on expensive dinners and whiskey? Without my contribution, the economy would collapse in hours."

"I will try to remember to be depressed about that," Darlene answers in a monotone, "when I'm partying down after the dissolution of the system, or whatever."

The little half-smile she gives him is more of a smirk, and probably does not do very much in the way of softening her. Not that this is probably a surprise. "How much is 'substantial', anyways? Please take this opportunity as a platform for boasting, okay, I for real want to know how much a pillar of the economy is taking in on the yearly."

Fucking charming. She gets an eye roll but little more, because anything more than that might involve him actually caring, and that's not something Jeff likes to ever admit to.

"A lot. I mean, I'm not fucking loaded but I got a lot of clients who are, and they pay a whoooole bunch of money to make sure they stay that way. I keep them outta trouble, they keep me comfortable with their masses of cash. Symbiotic relationship or whatever. The TV show brings in less money, but then the advertising deals I get? Amazing." Because yes, Jeff's not only that smug guy on that TV show, but he also makes appearances in magazines, various interviews and even commercials. This is a man who makes the most of his fame.

"Yeah? Cool." If this is a little bit at odds with the line she's been taking, there's a good reason for that. "I guess I can't totally hate on gaming the system. Like capitalism will still find a way to fuck you, you'll get what you deserve, but enjoy it for now. And keep buying me coffee," she adds, as she takes another sip. "Spread the wealth around a little."

Know what else will find a way to fuck him? Darlene. And not in a fun way. Because speaking of gaming the system, that's something she enjoys doing almost more than anything else. Rich dude with an ego? Target acquired.

So rude, and here he was perfectly willing to buy her coffee for all of time. But hey, can't win 'em all, especially when Jeff insists on painting a target on his back.

"I can do that. And hey, don't worry, I'm not expecting this to last. Either I get sent home and that's that, or everyone decides they really do hate imPorts after all and everything we own gets taken as they shove us into prisons. I dunno, around this place anything could happen, back home it was as simple as me losing my job." And then Jeff had to spend the rest of eternity living as a broke ass college student and an equally broke ass college teacher. Life is hard.

"You lost your job and then the government stripped you of your property and your rights and shoved you in prison? Wow, terrorist," she says, with a weird amount of appreciation, "no wonder your ass wants to stick around here. Why didn't you lead with that, it is way more interesting than pretty much everything else you've had to say."

Purposefully exaggerating whatever he probably actually meant, but whatever.

"Sure, we can say that's exactly what happened. You know me, just American terrorist turned famous B-list celebrity all thanks to a magical sentient computer AI thingy who felt like dragging my ass across Universes. The terrorist thing is pretty much the most believable part of that sentence anyways."

Because obviously Jeff is a terrorist and not at all a fake, washed out lawyer turned college teacher with no future life prospects beyond being poor and hating his job.

"Cool, now we can be friends." Which is obviously what Jeff wanted, and is also totally worth getting involved in. All friendships are things that you get involved in, or entrenched at the very least. Right?

Right.

"I'm not going to lie to you, my big interest right now is finding a place with good Thai and I have been striking out like crazy. Got any tips for me?"

Wowie, friendship! It's actually something Jeff constantly strives for, even if he's somewhat tentative about how genuine that statement was. Maybe she's mocking him. :(

"Thai? Uh. Sure, I know a few places around the imPort cities. I can write them down if you want?" Because it's totally normal to go from American terrorism to Thai.

"O-M-G, you would so be my hero."

She grabs a napkin out of the dispenser and slides it across the table to him. This is what friendship is. America terrorism and Thai food and coffee dates. Soon it will all feel normal, or, actually, not very soon, because Darlene is not a very reliable friend or a very reliable "friend". More the kind that you don't hear from for months and then they show up at your door at two in the morning. Good times!

"Autograph too please."

What the fuck ever, he's just going to roll with this even if he's pretty sure nothing she says is in the slightest way legitimate. She's probably mocking him but if he pretends he doesn't care, then he's won anyway! And then he can go home and cry himself to sleep because someone was mean to him!!!!

"No autographs. You want one of those, then you contact my agency and pay for it like a normal person, or you watch all of my show and then maybe I'll consider it."

But he's still scribbling down a few names and locations of Thai places around the major cities, because Jeff sure does know his restaurants.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

closed | If you work hard, you'll succeed --

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

oh god i didn't mean to be that slow

no worries!!!!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject