In a Dirty Glass (Veronica & open)

[veronicajames]

Veronica examined the consistency of her drink carefully. Whiskey had a very specific color and viscosity, which was important to know when there was a possibility of it being tainted. The bartender had not been acting suspicious, but then he could simply being acting his part well.

For other people, to have to analyze like this may have kept them from this gloomy little bar altogether. But for Veronica this was a daily occurrence. Given the choice between this and living the rest of her days holed up from the rest of the world, she was willing to take these kind of chances. (Besides, even if she had holed up, someone would have eventually found her. Veronica herself had once made money sniffing people out. There was no way to keep completely hidden, not without leaving some kind of trail.)

It was her own fault she had to live this way, really. She had started young and became a powerful player in her past career. She had been one of the best, the top tier, and that had made her highly sought after. But soon the people seeking her were not simply a crowd of shadowy clients, but the vengeful survivors of her work. She had killed their brother, mother, best friend, aunt, vice chancellor, etc. They wanted her dead for what she had done, which had only been her job.

It didn't help that she didn't subscribe to a certain group. She wasn't with any particular mafia or organization, so there wasn't any muscle to back her up when she ran into trouble. But Veronica preferred being a freelancer, and wasn't really a team player.

The dark-haired man in the corner shifted at his table and scratched his nose. Veronica knew there was no way to escape her past. She had come to embrace it now: that's why she had come to Cardiff, after all. But she would need a couple of stiff drinks to get her started.

[Captain John Hart]

John had awoken, in a warehouse, again. It seemed to be a common occurrence with him. He toyed with the idea of just purchasing a warehouse so at least, when he passed out, he was home.

He stretched and looked at his wristband. It was still acting odd but it could tell time. It was evening, again. Another day gone. Thank all the deities that called themselves God. Day was not a good time for John. Day was when the sky was too bright and happy people went about with their normal lives. He hated happy and despised normal. It was all to bloody cheery for him.

Night was his time. His people came out to play. You could be strange in the dark and no one would question you. They would just accept that you had a bad day or that you were mysterious and go on with their lives. You could be anyone in the dark.

He found himself wandering around Cardiff. He hoped that he would bump into Jack. He needed Jack. He hated that part of himself, loathed it, but there it was, and he couldn’t deny it.

Jack was his waking thought, always. It was usually the last thing he thought of when he slept, assuming he hadn’t just passed out in the middle of a drink. Even when he was with someone else, he could only think of Jack.

Perhaps he was sick and obsessed. Hell, there was no perhaps, he was. But there was nothing for it. When you were touched by Harkness it changed you. Jones understood that, even the Doctor knew. John wondered if Jack had touched him in other places than those two hearts.

There was a pub to his left and it seemed to be slightly different from the one he had been kicked out of the night before so he went inside, taking his chances. He sidled up to the only open space at the bar and ordered a Scotch, neat.

There was a woman beside him, she seemed tense, too wary. He knocked back his Scotch without batting an eye, ordered another and said to the woman beside him, “Loosen up, love. Life is definitely too bloody short to be so tense.”

[veronicajames]

“Loosen up, love. Life is definitely too bloody short to be so tense.”

Veronica knocked back her whiskey, then drew her gun and and shot the man at the corner table before the glass hit the counter. He made a gurgling noise, dropped his weapon, and slid halfway to the floor.

"Loose enough for you?" Instead of lowering her weapon, Veronica turned it towards the cocky blonde. "You wouldn't happen to be with that bloke, would you? I hate being shot at while I'm drinking. Skydiving, maybe, but not while drinking." God she hated this town. Avengers left and right. At least in Italy you could lose 'em down the alley ways. But in Cardiff it seemed no one had anything to do but hold a grudge.

This fellow, Veronica didn't seem to recognize. He seemed rather sinewy, like some sort of stray dog. She didn't remember killing anyone looking like that that might be related to this bloke. And what was up with the jacket? Maybe he was part of some bizarre gang or a crazed reenactment junkie. He certainly smelled musky, as if the previous owner of the coat wore heavy doses of ladies' perfume.

[Captain John Hart]

John watched her shoot the guy in the corner with mild disinterest. He continued to let his mouth hover over his drink.

"Loose enough for you?" she said and then pointed her weapon at him. “You wouldn't happen to be with that bloke, would you? I hate being shot at while I'm drinking. Skydiving, maybe, but not while drinking."

John raised an eyebrow at the skydiving comment. He motioned toward the barkeep and ordered them both another drink. “Me? I work alone, ta.”

The bartender brought them both new drinks and John quickly finished his last amazed at the fact that the man didn’t even threaten to call the police on her for shooting someone was a miracle. He might patron this place again if the owner was so good at not saying anything.

“Listen, love. I’ve got loads of people trying to kill me and I’m not shooting up the joint,” he said, looking around the room, gave a yawn, spied a guy behind him, pointed at the man, pointed at his own eyes and pointed back.

He leaned back to his drink and smiled, offering her his hand. “Hart, Captain John Hart…there, how many killers introduce themselves.”

[veronicajames]

The fellow ordered them both a drink. That was a nice thing to do when someone's got a gun pointed at your head. Veronica shrugged, and taking him for his word put the gun away, though still where she could get to it easily should the need arise.

Veronica gave a short wave to the bartender as he stepped out again. The bloke knew how to properly dispose of a body; that was one of the reputations of the bar, and one of the reasons she had chosen to come here. The other was that they made very good martinis, but she was saving that to wind down the evening.

“Listen, love. I’ve got loads of people trying to kill me and I’m not shooting up the joint,”

"By the looks of you you've left them a couple centuries back. That's hardly to be considered an immediate threat." Veronica casually raised her glass towards his jacket.

“Hart, Captain John Hart…there, how many killers introduce themselves.”

"Many, in fact." admitted Veronica. "I've known my share. Veronica James." She placed his drink in his outstretched hand. Handshakes were stupid and a great tactical error in most situations. She'd come here to drink, and that was what she was going to do.

[Captain John Hart]

"By the looks of you you've left them a couple centuries back. That's hardly to be considered an immediate threat." The woman motioned to his jacket.

“Oh, this? Nah, my enemies have no concept of time and space.” He looked down at his own jacket and brushed a piece of lint off the already linty sleeve. He knew it looked odd, but not much odder than Jack parading around in a World War II great coat. Besides, he liked the French. “I’m into retro.”

She commented on his introduction. "Many, in fact." John snorted. "I've known my share. Veronica James."

He took the drink and smiled a shark’s smile. “Well, then I’m a liar because I am a killer, just not after you.” He looked her up and down. Not bad, pretty face even if a bit high strung. He was amused at the way she kept her gun within reach while he had his secure in his holster.

He toyed with the idea of seeing who could get out the first shot if they were to start at one another.

His eyes trailed down her body and a smirk curled his lips in a rather Billy Idle-like fashion. She was wound but she was burning and he wondered if she really would be as much fun in bed as he imagined her to be.

[veronicajames]

He snorted at her reply. "You'd be surprised. A lot of them get cocky, doing it for kicks since they think their vic won't be coming for them any time soon. The worst is when you get a monologuer; they'll go on for twenty minutes. 'Course that gives you ample time to get good aim with a nice projectile, but still."

“Well, then I’m a liar because I am a killer, just not after you.”

"So it's true then, I suppose. One devil knows another." Veronica knocked back the second drink, shook her head slightly at the strong smoky flavor. She preferred Irish pure pot still, as it was a bit spicier, but that would have to wait until she got back over to Ireland and got the nice stuff. She signaled to the bartender that she would have one more when he came back into the room with a mop and a bucket, to which he nodded, but she knew she'd have to wait a bit.

"Are you a once-a-lifetime sort or a once-daily? People can make such a fuss over that sort of thing. I figure if you've already committed murder once, there isn't any particular reason to stop."

[Captain John Hart]

"You'd be surprised. A lot of them get cocky, doing it for kicks since they think their vic won't be coming for them any time soon. The worst is when you get a monologuer; they'll go on for twenty minutes. 'Course that gives you ample time to get good aim with a nice projectile, but still."

John almost choked with laughter. He himself was so guilty of monologue-ing, but it was also one of his pet peeves in others.

“I know! What is with that? I’ve gotten out of some of the worst situations because some dolt had to go and explain to me everything I already understood just so he could feel justified in killing me. Meanwhile, I’ve already beaten his henchmen bloody and have a well aimed gun pointed at his throat.” He wouldn’t admit that he monologued. He took pride in knowing that his monologue-ing never ended in his own death. That was because he was too paranoid to let his guard all the way down. He just liked to talk.

"So it's true then, I suppose. One devil knows another." Veronica knocked back the second drink

John smiled. “Yeah, well, water does find it’s own level and all that tripe. But you have to admit, a woman sitting in a bar, looking for the life of me like…” he paused to look her up and down once more, “…like walking sex and danger, well, it got my attention.” He offered her a wink and knocked his drink back. He too saw the bartender cleaning up her mess so he leaned over the bar and pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured himself a shot.

"Are you a once-a-lifetime sort or a once-daily? People can make such a fuss over that sort of thing. I figure if you've already committed murder once, there isn't any particular reason to stop."

He looked at her, his eyes calculating. Was she his confessional? She was a sight better than most priests, he had to admit. He shrugged and said, “I’ve been to murder rehab. I didn’t do well. Remember that trouble in Cardiff last year? You know, the town going all explodey? I did that.” Granted, he did that because of Gray, but she didn’t need to know that little detail.

He held up the bottle of vodka and asked, “Want some?”

[veronicajames]

“I know! What is with that? I’ve gotten out of some of the worst situations because some dolt had to go and explain to me everything I already understood just so he could feel justified in killing me. Meanwhile, I’ve already beaten his henchmen bloody and have a well aimed gun pointed at his throat.”

"Well maybe not just to justified. You give those people too much credit: not everyone has a conscience. They were most likely gloating." He mentioned that she looked like "walking sex and danger", to which she gave a short nod in acceptance; that was pretty much what she was, though much more danger than anything else. Normally she was better at hiding it with some kind of cover, but she was trying to drink away the past right now. And in a bar like this, if she happened to get messy her itchy trigger finger could clean up for her.

“I’ve been to murder rehab. I didn’t do well. Remember that trouble in Cardiff last year? You know, the town going all explodey? I did that.”

Veronica snorted with laughter. "Murder rehab? That hardly sounds helpful." She tried not to seem impressed when he mentioned the bombing of Cardiff. "I vaguely remember that. Was in Cozumel at the time, but I think it showed up on the news. I'll bet that was a pretty bunch of fireworks."

He offered a capped bottle of vodka from behind the counter. "Oh, go on, then." she said in agreement. She wasn't drunk yet, and that was a sorry thing indeed.

[Captain John Hart]

"Well maybe not just to justified. You give those people too much credit: not everyone has a conscience. They were most likely gloating."

“Yeah,” he said, holding his glass up. “Gloating.” That was exactly what he was doing when he monologued.

He liked to monologue. He even did it in his mind, often. He liked to see the looks on his victims faces as they realized that even though they thought his motives were that and this in all reality it was this and that. Even if they were right, he would say the opposite just to see them squirm.

Veronica snorted with laughter. "Murder rehab? That hardly sounds helpful."

“Wasn’t,” he said, moving his jacket aside to show the guns and the katana. “Nothing like a good death to start the day.”

"I vaguely remember that.” she said, commenting about his blowing up Cardiff. He wasn’t fooled by her impassive reaction. ”Was in Cozumel at the time, but I think it showed up on the news. I'll bet that was a pretty bunch of fireworks."

He snorted. “Just a bit. Though, in honesty, it wasn’t my idea. But sometimes you just have to follow genius when it lays a path before you. I don’t usually go for something so flashy. I like quieter cons and deals. But this one was for revenge and you have to honour that kind of conviction.”

He was lying. Gray was insane and even he didn’t follow insanity that didn’t come from his own brain, but Gray had been persuasive, especially after he had grafted that bomb to his wrist. Bombs are extremely persuasive.

The thought of Gray made his mouth go dry. He needed a drink. He poured Veronica some more and, with his teeth, pulled off the spout. He then knocked back the three quarters full bottle, not coming up for air until it was done.