meadowlarklogs | those who died are justified;

Not just a paying job, but a cushy one. ( surrounded by amsterdam's finest. but he's not going to argue it. after all, markus did a great job looking for a place to work. he's got an amazing in if they ever need to make use of it; the rich and powerful are a great place to aim for.

not jason's style, but markus has that flair to him. the kind that matches in extraordinarily well in these crowds. he looks good in a tuxedo, even better at a piano, and plays amazingly. whether or not it was intentional hasn't been answered yet, but wouldn't change how (accidentally?) clever it was regardless. )

Some of the people in there? Like who?

( asked without weight, easy enough. jason won't push for information with him but he'll ask regardless. )

[Only partly intentional, if he was to be honest. Detached from both his original purpose (caretaking) and the one crafted for himself (revolution), looking for a job meant focusing on what he was good at tangentially; art, music. And music, it seemed, was the fastest route to providing income for himself.

Thus, this job.

The ins and possibilities presented themselves only after the fact. Markus is well-aware of them, however, because he'd have to be blind to not notice the sort of clientele that comes waltzing in every night.]

Businessmen. CEOs. People who have weight to throw around. And in a place like that, rife with gossip and drinking? What potential, to be a fly on the wall.

( so markus does get it. the amazing position he has gotten himself into, what he'll be able to gleam off of the richest among them. markus doesn't loosen his tie, but as soon as they're out of the restaurant and far enough away? jason's reaching down to loosen it for him, pulling soft on the knot until it comes undone. )

So you've figured out who to get information off of, that's step one. Step two is figuring out what information you can get off of who. Who knows what. Who is connected into which company, who has the disappointing eldest son, all that nice stuff.

( with a teasing grin to markus himself. )

Got anything good?

[Instinctively a hand comes up to halt Jason’s attention to his tie, but it’s too late — the knot goes loose, and soon the tie itself is undone and rests quietly across his shoulders. Failed in his attempt to save it, Markus swats the other’s hand away in a friendly yet shooing kind of manner.]

They ask for private rooms, sometimes, whenever they visit in droves. I play for them, and I keep listen for what might pertain to us — the fire, the monster carcasses, whatever else pings my interest.

[Unfortunately, with a shove of hands into pockets—]

Nothing promising yet, though. Something’ll give eventually, I hope.

( he's playing with markus. loves to do so; he's fun, entertaining, reacts cutely. he listens easily enough, even if markus really doesn't have anything to give when it comes to. anything of use. ah, well. )

Let me know if you do pick up anything of interest? You know I'm always looking for trouble.

( or how to avoid it. whichever suits his fancy on a given day. getting rumors and intel is useful even if it doesn't seem like it is; but markus is clever, jason doesn't doubt his capability to pick up the puzzle pieces. )

And let me know if there's anything I can do to assist.

I will.

["Cutely" is not how he would describe himself in any way shape or form. Instead, just a man who's doing his best to fend off Jason's innately playful mannerisms. Results are varied at best.]

If you don't mind continually dressing up for the occasion. Stop by more often; make it a legitimate social call. I like to hear how you're doing. It's nice to know that you aren't always injured twenty-four-seven, you know.

You've seen my scars. ( the old burns, numerous other old cuts over his chest, back, arms. the weird bend to some of his fingers. all mostly healed, but--evidence, of how often jason spends in pieces. he doesn't mind them. hell, a few he's rather proud of. ) Don't often get hurt to the point of not being functional, but 's part of the job.

masked vigilantes without superpowers don't often spend long without bruises or broken bones. jason has the tendency to be a little less cautious than most, reckless to a fault. )

Help me get some nice new threads, and I'll wear 'em.

[Hard to miss the spark of interest in his eyes at that request.]

Think you can handle a shopping trip with me? It isn’t for the faint of heart.

Do I seem faint of heart to you?

( a raised eyebrow, the barely there tilt to the corners of his lips. )

[That expression is returned almost exactly.]

No. But just how patient are you?

I can be very patient, when the need fits.

( when he feels like it, basically. he spent years on a revenge plot before it ever came to fruition, that has to say something. right? )

The need will fit if you come shopping with me. You can't fly away after the first stop -- you won't be done.

[His grin goes a little lopsided, looking at him.]

But if you're willing, I'm more than happy to help you.

Will you buy me something pretty?

( soft, but teasing. jason stops to turn into markus, focuses eyes on the other's own. )

with a partner like you, why would i need to stop after just one?

[Oh my god, how does Markus deal with this much flirting all the time. By stepping neatly over it.]

You don't strike me as the pretty kind of person, Matches. Not your style, at least.

( markus is right; he's more of a "shady guy in a dark alley" fashion kind of guy, )

What do you think my sense of style entails?

( it's a fun game to play, anyway. )

[A fun game to play, and maybe Markus will supply a serious answer to it.]

Dark colors. I can see you sporting something retro, maybe 90's grunge.

[Is it a serious answer? Markus' tilting grin, that softly amused voice, makes it hard to tell.]

( he's going with "no", and laughing hard. it's loud, obnoxious even but it's not faked like jason's laughter usually is. the corners of his eyes crinkle, lips spread into a genuine grin. )

I am a millennial. Maybe I'm just trying to make the nineties live on.

["No" was the right answer, and there's something contagious about laughter, as the saying goes. Markus isn't even inclined to large bursts of it, usually just allows himself a wide grin and a huff of amusement -- but this time, he does laugh. Just a little, lost in the strength of Jason's.]

Well, there you go. I'm right, aren't I?

[He shrugs.]

I wasn't around in the nineties, but dressing you up appropriately would be my contribution to helping it live on, anyway.

( not right, but jason would walk around in 90s grunge just to irritate a few specific folks. a step forward and jason's moving again, urging markus to follow along. )

Should I give you my measurements? ( murmured soft, teasing. ) So you can find the perfect pair of acid washed jeans.

( this is his life now: walking around with a fleshy android discussing 90s clothes. jason can accept that. )

[It isn't a bad thing, these ridiculous moments. They need a smattering of them now and again, to divvy up the unkind reality of their situation as a whole.

Acid washed jeans and all.

He raises his brow, giving Jason a challenging, if somewhat playful, look.]

You think I wouldn't?

( there's a pause. and then markus receives a message over their implant: generic sizes that new amsterdam runs in and exact measurements: bust, hips, waist, shoulders, arms, legs, you know

the important bits. )

I'm hoping you will.

those who died are justified;

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