We're Catching Bullets in Our Teeth

[dun_moch]

WHO: Count Dooku and Jack
WHERE: Church bingo hall, Maurtia Falls
WHEN: Sunday? That's when church bingo is, right?
WHAT: Dooku tracks down a person of interest, and in doing so gains another level in his evolution as a cranky old man stereotype.
WARNINGS: Almost certain talk of violence, and maybe discussion of cannibalism to boot.

"B2.... D4..... A7.... C3..."

The steady, droning cadence of the bingo caller is like a funeral chant to Dooku's ears. This place does not agree with him. In the aged, weathered faces of the people around him, he sees a reflection of himself: himself as he might be, if he did not have the power of the Dark Side to elevate him above weakness and infirmity. Old as the Count might be, he has nothing in common with these people. Their best years are behind them- his are still ahead, years of power and achievement.

He cannot imagine why a being as powerful as this 'Jack' would lower himself to taking part in such a ridiculous excuse for entertainment. Dooku has heard the rumours: a man who is powerful, violent, seemingly invincible, and with notably poor manners. Aside from the last item, all of these are topics of interest to Count Dooku. And his sources tell him this is the best place to find Jack.

Dooku is wearing a suit today instead of his usual caped space-noble getup, which helps him blend in further with the senior citizens he is joining. It's easy enough to pick out Jack: he's the only one who looks like he might have fronted a punk band in a different life. Grudgingly accepting a number card and an oversized marker, the Count takes a seat next to Jack just as the next round of calls is about to begin.

Comments

[neverdied]

Jack never quite fits into the crowd as much as he'd like. One quick glance across the room might have him blending in against the sea of grey hair and coloured rinses, but a more discerning eye would soon pick out the broad shouldered bulk amongst a mostly frail player base. No one seems to be concerned with his presence though, some even showing interest at an ~imPort~ joining their ranks but most are gracious enough to leave him alone, especially when he's made sure to always keep his head down and stay out of the way. That's why he's quite distinctly sat off towards an edge and has left seats between him and others. He doesn't want company.

Yet here they are, him and some besuited guy taking a seat beside him that Jack spares a slow, laboured glance towards before dragging his attention back down to the card before him, almost begrudgingly dabbing at a number as it's called out. He lets a silence linger while Dooku settles, eyes still downcast as he eventually mumbles a reluctant, "Hi."

Dooku's face is one that's recognisable enough and it's the only reason he even gets a greeting in the first place. Fellow imPorts are interesting enough to draw Jack's distant interest, if nothing else.

[dun_moch]

The Count is not accustomed to having his presence so reluctantly acknowledged. He has been a public figure since the moment he was born in his own world, and has invested substantial time and effort to ensuring he enjoys the same profile as an imPort on Earth. So it is with restrained annoyance that he responds to Jack's eventual greeting.

"Hello, Jack," he says lowly, hushing the usual resonance of his voice out of consideration for the 'game' playing out around them. The Count only glances at his card as the numbers are called out, scarcely interested in whatever piddling trophy they are supposed to be playing for. "I was told I could find you here."

[neverdied]

Sadly the Count won't be getting any appreciation from Jack, that much is certain. This is a man who's seen Kings and Queens live for barely the blink of an eye, who's witnessed the rise and fall of plenty of Kingdoms and countries. One single being with a high status in the public eye isn't enough to even garner his interest, let alone impress him. Virtually nothing impresses Jack any more.

"Well. You found me," he replies, devoid of enthusiasm and little concern as he adds another red splot onto his grid of numbers and letters, apparently content with being tracked down. There's a low chatter of small groups of elderly that thankfully disguise these two and their conversation, or what little there currently is of it. "Here for bingo?"

He already knows the answer to that.

[dun_moch]

Dooku is an old hand at holding younger, weaker, ephemeral things in the quiet contempt of one who has seen it all come and go. Being on the receiving end of such an attitude is new to him. Master Yoda had held such depths of experience, but Yoda was a Jedi, and in his foolishness cultivated a continual appreciation for life in all its forms, no matter how beneath him it may have been.

"Perhaps I thought I would give the game a try," Dooku says wryly, not meaning it for a second. "But truthfully, I wanted to meet you. I have heard so much of- ah, D-7."

The Count interrupts his pitch for a moment to dab a red spot onto his card as the number is called. It's not like he cares or anything. He just likes winning, and is unaccustomed to letting opportunities to do so slip by.

[neverdied]

Dooku's 'I wanted to meet you' is an obvious reply that gives Jack all he needs as far as information goes. This guy wants something. Everyone wants something, it's the way of the world, and when you gain a reputation as much as Jack seemingly has, it's only inevitable that someone will start seeking you out. It never takes much for word to get around, sometimes it only takes one scared off thug to tell the tale before the whole town knows. Before that would have been enough to get him moving on to another city and another life but here? Here Jack can be as immortal and powered as he likes without threat of media and Government piling on him and locking him away for good.

"I'm not a hitman," he points out to clear things up, watching his own cards despite luck not favouring him this game.

Never was about the winning anyway.

[dun_moch]

"Of course you're not," Dooku agrees readily with a smile as though he is not disappointed to hear that from Jack- and right away too, with such decisiveness. A significant chunk of the things he had in mind for Jack had involved violence against the Count's enemies.

"But you are many other things, aren't you?" He continues, raising an eyebrow, looking away from his cards to focus on Jack. "Your reputation precedes you. It is said you are very strong indeed." Which would always be catnip for people like Dooku.

[neverdied]

"Uh-huh."

A simple enough reply as he finally gives the Count his attention, dragging his gaze reluctantly from the cards before him and leaving them as a lost cause for this round. He's really not here for the winnings anyway, it's little more than a habitual distraction from living, plus the reassurance that these wrinkled, walking corpses aren't appealing enough to get him craving flesh.

"I guess. Not gonna help you move house either though." Which might be a joke. Possibly. What he's getting at is he's not some two-bit thug out to make a quick buck. Jack has a price, everyone does, but his talents don't come cheap.

sorry, this notif got lost!!

[dun_moch]

At last, actual eye contact. And a response of two whole sentences- three even, if you count 'uh-huh.' Dooku senses that he's making progress here.

"But of course," he says smoothly, giving Jack his most reassuring look with his dark eyes. "I have no intention of wasting your talents. All I ask is whether they are available- and what you might ask in return." Thankfully, Dooku is long past having to be cheap when it comes to hiring 'talent.'

it ok. i won the slow competition

[neverdied]

Dooku is making progress merely by not leaving. Jack has learnt long ago that sometimes ignoring ones company isn't the best method, and that conversation ended swiftly will get them gone far quicker than anything else. And so he talks, minimally but there's still words being made and drifting eye contact being made.

But there's an issue. What does an immortal who's had everything even ask for? These days he tends to lead a simple life.

"Money. Lots of it." At least he's honest. "What are you? Gang leader? Lonely millionaire?"

here is your prize

[dun_moch]

The Count gives an enigmatic little smirk as he returns his attention to his bingo card, marking off another square. It's beginning to look like he might actually win... whatever these people are playing for. He decides that he will give his prize to Jack if he wins, as a gesture of good faith.

"You could call me a political activist," he says, even though 'gang leader' would probably be more accurate. "One with enemies and a need for allies. Rest assured, however: money will be no issue."

He hopes that Jack isn't yet another imPort who has some kind of absurd neverending feud with Jesse Pinkman. It could be more difficult to buy him off with Pinkman's drug money if he is.

the greatest gift

[neverdied]

Dooku can rest easy, Jack is one of the few out there without a neverending feud with Jesse, because trying to get Jack to have a feud with anyone is difficult when he couldn't even find the energy to hate those around him. In fact he actually doesn't mind what little he's seen of the kid. 'Kid'. Because really, anyone under the age of several centuries is in infancy as far as Jack's concerned.

"Not gonna be an ally, but for money I can be a temporary one." Which is all he really assumes Dooku wants anyway. Aligning himself with sides is just beyond his realm of giving a shit, but he'll take sides if there's cash or 'food' involved

And if the Count believed he was in for a chance of winning, his dreams are sadly going to be dashed by the seventy-something year old woman a few seats down from them shrieking out a shrill, "Bingo!" She's looking around, eyes wide with excitement, for congratulatory approval but Jack's doing his very best to stare at the scratches in the table before him.

"C'mon," he mutters to his company, jerking his head off towards a fire exit as he drags himself heavily to his feet and slinks off, hands in pockets, expecting Dooku to follow. It's either that or stay with the old lady who seems ready to celebrate with the nearest victim.

[dun_moch]

"Yes, good idea," Dooku mutters back, visibly recoiling at that shriek. He stands up and nods his congratulations to the winner (even as he's thinking a woman of her age should have learned more dignity and composure) before sweeping after Jack, hands clasped behind his back.

[neverdied]

If Dooku was hoping for dignity and composure, he probably shouldn't have come to a bingo game. There may be long stretches of silence and a whole bunch of concentrating old folk, but the second that Bingo! is called, there's a buzz of excitement that can get a little out of control. Some of these folk don't exactly get out much.

Jack's swift to escape it all, out of the nearest fire exit and waiting for Dooku on the other side as he leans against a stained church wall.

"So. Who have you been speaking to?" He did seek Jack out by name. Not exactly a hard feat considering the easy routines, but still...

[dun_moch]

Count Dooku does not lean. Especially against dirty walls that might stain his expensive clothing. Instead, he takes up a position in front of Jack, still with his hands behind his back. He's somewhat grateful for the excitement rising behind them: with the noise for cover, they can speak a bit more freely than they could while the game was in progress.

"A few different individuals... mostly in Maurtia Falls," he answers evasively. He doesn't know if Jack will be cross with the people who have been telling tales about him, and Dooku values his sources. At least until they outlive their usefulness. "They tell different stories, some of them possibly exaggerated. I have even hard it claimed that you are indestructible."