[Chuck Carmichael] December nineteenth
eight p.m, central standard time
from here on in I . . .
Except Chuck doesn't know what he's doing right now, not really. It's not the (possible, potential, impending) breakup with Molly that's done it, or that Ashley was mad at him when last they spoke, or that he and Emily broke up (again), or whatever is(n't) going on with Nico, or the reputed Technocracy presence, or that an awful lot of people know an awful lot more about him than he's generally alright with right now, but some combination of all of it. He hasn't been the best about following his diet and exercise regimen (as mandated by doctors) and he's been drinking far too much for the past while, but like all benders it's bound to stop eventually.
Just not tonight.
Chuck is not sloppy - in fact, even when he's half a step from passing out, he's seldom that. He's quiet and contained, and quite occupied with making LOLcats for his mind's screenshots of the people in the bar. It's a thing to do, anyway, and it amuses and distracts, both.
[Jarod Nightingale] [Awareness, word]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Jarod Nightingale] There's a bar somewhere on the edge of Lake View, and in this bar, a man named Chuck Carmichael was getting drunk. He wasn't doing it loudly or obnoxiously. He was doing it, well... like Chuck.
There was another Awakened being in the bar tonight. Unlike the Virtual Adept, Jarod had only just arrived, so he hadn't had time to get properly inebriated. In fact, he'd yet to have even a single drink. That would probably change, all things considered, but for the moment, as he stepped inside the door and made his way toward the bar, he was as alert and controlled as the feral predators he so often reminded people of. So it happened that he noticed Chuck rather quickly, and his eyes landed on the tall brunette at the bar for a long, curious moment before his legs picked up movement once more and took him to join Chuck at the bar. Not too close, mind. But nearby. Two stools over. Jarod sat down, the picture of casual grace, and beckoned for the bartender. He ordered a vodka martini (grey goose - dry) then turned to lean an elbow against the bar, head tilted to watch the other man with a slightly animalistic expression (like a cat looking at a mouse it was too full to bother eating.) He was wearing jeans and a black silk button-down tonight, with an expensive black coat that he slid out of and draped over the back of his seat.
"You look like you've had an... interesting day."
[Chuck Carmichael] Ceiling cat sez . . .
At first, Chuck is inclined to think this guy is just another someone talking to him because that's what people do when he's out and about (him being a bit Uncanny and all), but then he takes a second look. It's hard not to notice some things about the man; that he's more attractive than most, in his way, that he moves with a fluid ease that Chuck envies (and may try to imitate when no one's looking, with hilarity ensuing), that he brings to mind nothing so much as a cat (but not a house cat, no, something in some . . . Thai jungle, maybe, since he's clearly Asian). It's a moment after being addressed in which Chuck feels comfortable staring (cataloging, catagorizing) because he's had enough to drink to lower his (not inconsiderable) inhibitions a bit, and a moment that happens before he gives answer.
"Eh, nothing happened today, really. Just didn't feel like sitting at home. Hi. I'm Chuck."
[And, since we're studying . . . Per + Aware.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Jarod Nightingale] [Hey hey, Life 1, what do we see there? (focus)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 3)
[Jarod Nightingale] [...extending, cause 1 sucks]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 5 (Success x 2 at target 4)
[Jarod Nightingale] Hi. I'm Chuck.
That name, all on its own, was enough to bring Jarod's focus from lazy to sharp. There wasn't much of an outward change (there never was,) but suddenly the friendly-looking guy with the interestingly bipolar resonance was all kinds of interesting. Or at least, an object of curiosity. Certainly it was possible that there were more than one mage named Chuck in the city of Chicago, but given their relatively small population, and the fact that this particular Chuck looked exactly like the kind of guy a girl like Emily might rebound with after having been left by a guy like Jarod, it seemed a fair bet that perhaps this Chuck was indeed... the Chuck.
But of course, Jarod didn't say that. He just smiled and reached across the bar to offer his hand. "Jarod. Nice to meet you."
His drink arrived, and he paid for it before taking a sip and eying Chuck momentarily over the rim of his glass. A different kind of sight might tell the Verbena that the Virtual Adept was, in fact, diabetic, and that drinking like this was probably not the healthiest thing he could be doing, but scanning a relative stranger's body without telling them might have been considered an invasion of privacy.
Nonetheless, this was exactly what Jarod did. (And, well... at least it wasn't a Mind scan.)
And indeed, what he found was that Mr. Carmichael wasn't exactly the picture of health right now. He didn't comment on this just yet.
"Hmm," he mused, with the quirk of a smile touching the side of his mouth. "I have a feeling that there is more to this story."
[Chuck Carmichael] "I have a feeling," Chuck says, instantly a little tense, "that I don't much like people looking at me that way without asking first. It's not good manners, you know. I should have brought a sweater instead of just my coat."
The last comes in randomly as the taller (by several inches, though that's difficult to tell when he's slumped in a bar stool) man fidgets in his hair momentarily, reacting to one bit of resonance if not so much the other. He doesn't like it, and given all the warnings and conversations and arguments he's had lately it sets his teeth a bit on edge, though it doesn't seem prudent to just cash out and leave. If Ceiling Cat is one of the darker shades of gray (not to be confused with a black hat or a white, and there is no strictly good or strictly bad) it's only going to make it [more] obvious that Chuck's a person of interest. And so, for now, he stays, and meets that look with a curious and (apparently) open expression.
He's everyone's best friend.
He's a shitty liar (though that doesn't extend to withholding the truth).
"Not so much an interesting day," he adds after gesturing for another drink (whiskey, meet rocks), "as an interesting week-or-two. If by 'interesting', we mean 'shitty'."
There are hallmarks other than resonance and name that pinpoint Chuck for the Chuck, depending on what Emily's (or other people who might have been talking about him to or around Jarod) said - he's in his Best Buy uniform, though the tie is loosened and the name badge hangs on the pocket of his black trousers rather than on his pocket. There's the laptop bag that leans against his stool just there, at his right foot. There's the Blackberry on the bar in front of him.
"What about you? This bar isn't bad, but I still get the impression you're slumming."
[Jarod Nightingale] "Apologies. I was just trying to determine how many drinks I still needed to catch up." And to his credit, the pretty man in the expensive clothes both looked and sounded convincingly sincere. He even grinned wryly, his tone at the end gently teasing. "But since we're on the subject, you should be more careful. I might even be persuaded to help, if you ask nicely."
(But that rather depended on how entertaining and/or enlightening Chuck turned out to be.)
Jarod took another drink from his martini glass, then ran his finger absently around the rim. "I was supposed to meet someone, actually. But they had to reschedule, and I figured I'd grab a drink or two since I was already in the neighborhood." A beat, and then, "Shitty weeks seem to be the norm these days. But hey, at least you're alive. Sometimes that's about the best we can hope for."
[Chuck Carmichael] "Ah, not that kind of shitty. I'm not on the meatspace front lines, thank God. I'm bad enough at the rest of the face-to-face stuff without having to . . . oh, I don't know. Anyway, I'm fine - or will be. I haven't let it . . ."
Here, he stops and his eyes narrow briefly a frown directed at Jarod and then his drink; it doesn't look at home on Chuck's face, that frown. There are lines that mark him as not a youngster, but they're mostly smile and laugh lines (with a few worry lines thrown in, but next to no true frown lines) that mark him as a cheerful, easy-going sort. The drink is contemplated for a moment and then he shrugs, sips from it anyway, and returns his attention to the Verbena next to him.
"Jarod. I know who you are, sort of. And yeah, at least I'm alive, though I tend not to think that's the best anyone can hope for, ever. Sorry about your meeting or whatever." There is not a less than genuine bone in Chuck's body - if he says something, he means it. Doesn't matter if the meeting was with a client or another mage or whether it was important or not.
[Jarod Nightingale] For all that Jarod's life probably seemed about as affluent and easy (and safe) as any among them could hope for, he was not without his less pleasant experiences. He knew what it was to be hurt (had known that long before he'd Awakened.) He'd been hunted. He'd had everything that he owned taken from him. He'd been forced to kill people. Not often. Not nearly as many times as someone like Solomon may have. Or Daiyu. But unlike them, he didn't have an overriding belief that he was right in doing so. He didn't know whether or not he was the good guy. He just knew that he'd needed to do it to survive.
So yes, he did believe that sometimes survival was all that one could hope for. But that didn't mean that he didn't hope for more than that as well, on occasion.
Chuck knew who he was. Sort of. This didn't seem to surprise him. (Chuck had known Emily, after all. And probably Ashley. And who knows who else.) And he offered condolences to Jarod's forced change of plans, though in truth Jarod himself did not seem all that put out by it (if at all.) Jarod shrugged lightly. "I'm sure I'll see her again. I suppose its what I get for making illicit plans with someone else's girlfriend."
He pivoted in his seat, turning so that he could face Chuck more fully. "Let me guess. Virtual Adept?" (The Geek Squad uniform was a bit of a give away, but then, Molly had given a similar impression and she was a Cultist, so one never really knew with these things.)
[Chuck Carmichael] ".....and you're Verbena," comes the not-quite-answer that's more agreement than dis-; he speaks low, though on a Tuesday night even in the midst of the holiday craze, the bar isn't that full.
Chuck's life seems pretty affluent and easy as well, despite his uniform and name badge. He's had his down times, for sure, but the wars he's waged have been considerably different than the ones most of Chicago's mages have (if they've waged any at all) even as they're remarkably similar. He's been hunted, but not for the same reasons. He's had everything (that mattered) stripped from him. He's never killed anyone (thank goodness for that!) and has no intent to do so, but still. None of this has stripped from him his certainty that survival is the minimum, and should never be all anyone hopes for.
The bit about meeting with someone else's girlfriend? That got a flicker-frown, but it was gone quickly. None of his business, and so he didn't comment, especially given the more interesting getting-to-know-you topic at hand.
[Jarod Nightingale] Unlike Chuck, he hadn't had much to drink yet, and that flicker of a frown was not missed. Nor was it all that unexpected, coming from a man who practically radiated guy-next-door likability. Jarod, of course, was used to these things. People didn't always like him. They frequently did not approve of the things that he did (and sometimes with very good reason.) He was pretty much fine with that. Sometimes he even encouraged it.
Chuck knew that he was Verbena - either because someone had told him or because he'd made an educated guess. Jarod smiled a little and nodded. "So are you going to tell me what's on your mind, Chuck of the Geek Squad Adepts, or do I need to buy us a few more drinks first? And before you answer, be forewarned - I get extremely flirty when I'm drunk."
[Chuck Carmichael] "Oh, feel free to buy us more drinks, and I don't mind flirty. Don't know that it'd get you anywhere, mind," this is with a grin, wry, "but I'm hardly going to get stupid over it. As for what's on my mind . . ."
He shrugs, runs a hand through hair that's approaching Jew-fro status (he is a Jewish man with curly hair, it happens) before taking up his drink and shifting it so that ice clinks, swishes, swirls, then sips. This is not the finest of whiskeys, nor is it a well drink; Jameson or Red Breast or similar, not something more expensive. Affluence has levels, after all, and though Chuck certainly isn't hurting, he's not going to go blow his wad on drinks even if it has been a shitty week.
"Mmm. I'm in trouble - for certain values of the word - for not telling things about my past that could affect the present. And also for doing what's more or less my job with one person who didn't ask me to, and not doing it with a second, but only because I did with the first." He contemplates that for a moment, then adds, "I think the second's mostly jealous, not that she wanted me to go digging and securing. There are a few people irritated with me right now and given the mouth on one of them, I'm kind of surprised the whole city doesn't know yet."
There's a smirk then, amused, and he downs the rest of his drink but doesn't gesture for another just yet; he can feel it more than he should, and knows it has to do with his glucose levels (and that he'll have a hell of a hangover in the morning because of it, if he doesn't do something soon to take care of that). "That's the Cliff Notes, with names of the probably innocent obscured."
[Jarod Nightingale] Chuck said that he didn't mind flirty, though it wasn't likely to get Jarod very far, and Jarod fixed him with an amused expression that seemed to suggest that people had said this to him before and been wrong (that it might be kind of dangerous to encourage someone like him to flirt, because he had every conceivable advantage on his side, and probably a few that most people never even considered.) He might have said something to that effect, but right now he was more interested in what Chuck had to say, so he kept quite and let the taller (this was unusual, as Jarod was not a short person) man unburden his anxieties. The details were vague, but a story of a sort could still be pieced together.
Namely, that the first unknown entity who was upset with Chuck may very well have been (and in fact, probably was) Emily.
"I'm going to make a leap of reason and assume that the second person in question is more than just an acquaintance?" (After all, why else be jealous over an uninvited invasion of privacy?) "And that, whoever said person is - rational thinking may not be their most valued asset."
[Chuck Carmichael] There are, in fact, three people upset with Chuck that he knows of - this makes his 'first' second and his 'second third, but Jarod is correct in his guess (or assumption) that the one Chuck labeled as 'first' is Emily. Which means he may well know exactly what the first and second are both upset about, if in different ways, for different reasons.
"Yeah. They're both more than acquaintances, really, in different ways - or at least have been. And no, rational thinking isn't the second's strongest asset at all, though to be fair, it's not always mine either." Again, he watches Jarod for a long moment, and it's clear that he's nearly as accustomed to people asking him about his stuff as he is to people coming to talk to him as a confidante, or shoulder to cry on, or what have you. Being asked by someone not in his immediate circle is nearly foreign to him. "I'm not used to people being mad at me. Or at least not to them staying mad at me."
[Jarod Nightingale] [le pause!]
