In Hollywood strange things tended to happen. A decorated Navy SEAL with a degree in technical engineering was strange. A body guard to a scream-queen startlet who was a former decorated Navy SEAL with a degree in technical engineering was stranger still, but that was how things had worked out and thus far he couldn’t stay he had any regrets about it. He had been afforded, possibly, one of the most multifarious job histories imaginable and seen enough and done enough to be very difficult to impress. So it said something when the towering John Lacrosse, dressed now in a heavy black leather trench, boots and black stocking cap of the Marvel villain Bullseye, arched a brow at the goings on at the end of the bar.
Among other things – many other things – John Lacrosse was well schooled in the practice of paying attention to body language. At the end of the bar a very buxom Jessica Rabbit appeared to be, but was not in fact, whispering sweet nothings to a waiter who was rapidly turning the color of old skim milk. The waiter ran off with an extra added alertness and desperation to his serving skills that spoke of a man with a gun to his head, proverbially. (Probably.) The Bullseye doppelganger ordered a highball and a glass of whiskey, took both with him to the end of the bar.
“Well, you weren’t kidding about running a tight ship were you?” John commented, voice carrying a low touch of laughter. As Jessica Rabbit turned around he offer her the highball and a small sidelong smile. “Why don’t you take a break from tormenting that kid for a little while?”