characters: Jess, Wanda, Nick, Steve, Tony, strippers in speedos and bowties, did I miss anyone? setting: We're takin' it to the stripclub, y'all. content: Nick. Fury. summary: Party'n party'n RAWR. But really, a lot's about to go down, I can't even begin with this. note: The way I ordered names is not the order we have to go by in tags. Whoever wants to go first, have at it.
Jessica stood in front of the mirror with an arm swept across her stomach, knuckles pressed against her lips. She stared carefully. There were no wrinkles, sags, or age spots; no grey hairs or scars with stories behind them. None with the worth of 84 years anyway. 84. She chuckled. Today was her birthday, and like any other birthday she found it to be quite insignificant. Having been around for 84 years hardly mattered when 60 of those years were spent being, the way she saw it, nonexistent. But 60 years of her life really was nonexistent. Don't worry, that wasn't nearly as depressing as it sounded.
With a flippant hum and shrug, she finished off her can of soda, tossed it, and ambled out of her room with her laptop tucked under her arm. Jessica was very content in her birthday going disregarded--she maintained her usual aloofness, not particularly interested in drawing attention to herself. So far, it was working out quite nicely. At the very least Nick knew it was her birthday (and her real age since she was known to tease him about his every now and then), so she had an underlying suspicion that he'd give her a call. Other than that...yawning behind the back of her hand, Jessica made her way to the living room and plopped onto the couch, legs stretched across it, and waited while her laptop began to load.