"Captain jackass doesn't need sleep."
Who: Jim Kirk, Janice Rand What: Truthfully discussing alibis & getting dumped, unflattering pic is taken, pocket!universe!purse beating happens, naptime for Captain Jackass, and building pillow shielding forts around some guy's junk. QFT. Phew. Lotta quoting thar, mateys! Where: Janice's house, Laguna Beach, CA When: Yesterday Status: Complete Rating PG-13, language n' boner.
It hadn't taken much reading on the valar net to see the words 'contact the authorites' about a missing person, to know that it somehow involved 'Trouble'. Trouble went by another name, and that was Jim Kirk. So it was without a shred of hesitation that Janice called upon Trouble for once, and asked it to come back over. Because no way was she going to lose a crazy, insane, overly self-assured, pimp of a possible repeat client.
That, and she didn't think he was guilty, either. Which nagged at her own mind even more, and compelled her to try to switch gears into salvage mode. She'd seen her father do that enough times in the embassies, when she was younger, so she was well aware of good spin doctoring and how to try to save some rears, in a diplomacy sense.
She waited until he had shown up, and showed him to the office - where he could sit down in his command-of-the-room sort of way - before she went into crisis prevention mode.
"About your missing girlfriend? I've read what's on the valar-net. People will start to assume you did something wrong," she began, immediately, "because you're cocky and too self assured."
Jim tilted his head, “I meant more like I cut her head off and buried it under the porch.”
“Serial killer is probably one step further than being a playboy. But that's a small step further.”
“..srsly?” That was also the expression on his face.
“They're either very closeted people, or you get Ted fucking Bundy, sir.”
“How does one go from having lots of sex to killing people? I GET a sexual outlet. Don’t they usually need to be impotent?”
“I'm only saying that it's the cockiness that could get you into trouble,” Janice pointed out, standing close by, with both arms firmly folded over herself. “As far as others finding you suspect? I told you to get an alibi. Do you have one? Because all it would take, is for one person to notify the police and you will be first on their list. I suggest you outline everything you did over the course of her disappearance, and everyone who you came into contact with.”
He stared at her, dryly. Then folded his arms, “Of course I have one.”
He might be giving her a dry stare, but Janice reluctantly softened up by maybe 0.05% when she looked over at him. “I'm only saying, for your own good. Make sure your butt is covered.” Captain. “What is it? Your alibi. I mean.”
“I was teaching a self defense class, then I was at Mad Dogs. Or the Green Maid. Whatever the hell it's being called now.”
“And afterward?” Janice was staring right at him. “I'm not trying to be difficult, only thorough.” She really wasn’t trying to make it difficult for him, either, even if she did realize fully that he was going through a rough time.
She WAS being difficult, but he kept his temper in check, “Stopped by Miriel's and she was gone.”
“And this Miriel had nothing to say about her being gone either? Who was Miriel to her?” It wouldn’t have been a huge leap to imagine Janice in a courtroom. If she had the mind to do something like that, but she was overall pretty happy with her life. Right now, dammit, she really wanted the mystery solved too. Because it's like a good novel she can't stop reading, even if it's likely going to be a tragic, open-ended final chapter.
“Said she came back and Vela had gone. Took her own things and left some money behind. Just gone.” Jim then launched into the cliffnotes version of the Arishock saga.
Janice thought that that seemed like a pretty final a statement, but actually was debating whether or not to say that outloud to him, at this juncture.
Janice folded her arms and contemplated it for approximately 2.5 seconds, her expression only vaguely downtrodden. Checks, balances? How would it weigh out? Nevermind, she decided to simply go for it. Never stopped her before, from speaking her mind.
“Permission to speak freely?”
“Go ahead.” He doubted he could stop her if he wanted.
“I think maybe it might have been a bit overwhelming for her. You said she was like you. If she was like you, she was a bit of...” Janice made air quotes with both index fingers. “...a playboy...” There, she ended the finger quotes. “...to begin with. You add in that whole mess she had going on, plus trying to form a relationship with someone like herself, which would be like trying to build a skyscraper on quicksand? Anyone is going to bolt. And I hate to be the one to point this out, sir, but her taking her stuff and leaving money with that roommate of hers, and not telling you? That's a pretty final statement that she bailed. It doesn't require a note. Or telling you so. That, right there, says 'I'm paying my debts I feel I owe and I’m leaving' without really having to say a word.”
The words kind of hung in the air around them, adding the sort of tension that Janice was well aware of but was somehow able to push aside a little bit, to ignore it. It didn’t mean she didn’t feel bad, and it showed, since she softened up for a smidge. The somewhat hard edges in her voice were considerably lessened, when she spoke again, “I'm sorry.I know it must be difficult. But that's something even I can't organize or tidy up for you, or anyone else on the planet.”
Janice cleared her throat and snapped right back to normal, folding both arms over her chest and sort of...looked down at the wood flooring like it was worthy of a fleeting but rather intense study. Only checking for cracks, that’s all.
Jim looked back at her, with a grim look on his face. He said nothing.
“I probably should have broke that to you over coffee. But maybe it's better you heard it in a non-public setting.” She paused in her flooring inspection and eyed him like she hoped she hadn't overstepped any boundaries, there.
“I know, I'm trying to wallow.” He waved a hand. Srs shit. He was considering calling that detective that had busted Arishok, at this point.
“Wallowing doesn't suit you, sir. But it's probably necessary.” Janice adopted a slightly too sweet tone of voice when she asked, “Would you like some ice cream and a spoon?”
Because sometimes guys need ice cream stuff after a break up, too.
His wallowing was momentarily interrupted and he snerked.
Janice was not about to crack a smile at that, but she did look a little amused. It was all in the eyes, more than the rest of her face.
“I can get you some in a cone if you'd like.” In fact, there was a guy with an ice cream cart, who often parked it nearby to get a few bucks from people on their way down to the beach. Janice grabbed her purse as she headed for the front door, slung the strap over her head and shoulder so it was crosswise across her chest, and headed outside. She returned approximately four and a half minutes later with a waffle cone with a single scoop of non-offensive flavored ice cream, because hasn't gotten a listing of what he likes or hates. So he gets vanilla. She can't recall anything from her own timeline about him yet, enough to know what his favorite flavor of ice cream was, et cetera.
Janice thrust it out toward him with one hand. The other hand was holding out at least a bare minimum of ten napkins, just in case. He takes, yes. Goooood.
“Eat it,” she suggested. “It'll help you wallow.”
He stared at her, then at the ice cream, then back at her, “Marry me? Open marriage, of course. Obviously we can’t have sexual relations with each other. Just for convenience sake. And Ice cream.”
What? Janice stared at him, blinked a few times, pressed her lips firmly together and turned suddenly. It was as though she heard something outside, but it's just so he can't see her going XD and cracking up for a few token seconds. What more, she was trying go XD while utterly silent, which didn’t help matters when her voice wavered and she asked, “Did you hear a car crash? Swear I heard a car crash somewhere.”
“Unless you want a threesome. If it's a guy, balls can't touch.” He grinned at her, hoping he’d cracked through her shell. She was attractive, but surprisingly he currently wasn’t interested in her sexually. That was weird.
“I'd better go see if someone needs me to call nine-one-one.” Janice was taking out her phone from her purse with her back still to him, but was silently XD so hard right then, that her eyes were watering. And yeah, he was nice to look at, but she could fend him off with the greatest of ease. She was a smart girl, after all!
To prove her resistance, Janice walked off with a quick stride like a woman who has business to attend to! She was really just booking it outtie, down the stairs and around the back corner of the house so she can crack up laughing. He would not win. She will not crack! Janice is a true professional!
#Winning.
Oh no he didn’t, for she’d escaped!
#Winning because Jim followed and took a picture with his phone, texting it away to safety!
Oh did he...? Noooooooooo! Janice gawked and ran over, full speed. Her foot shot out and landed against his shin, before she swiveled and kicked a knee right out from under him. Once he was down, she leapt upon him and wrestled the phone out of his hands by biting him on the wrist. Success! Janice deleted the photo with flying thumb presses on buttons. “…” Then she realized what she was doing and hopped off him, staggering up onto her own two feet, because that's not professional at all. Don’t count on that happening again. She smoothed down her skirt with both hands and went temporarily shifty-eyed.
“If you dropped your ice cream, it's your own damn fault.” She paused in what was supposed to be mid-apology, and added as an afterthought, “Sir.”
He stared up at her, grinning lopsidedly, “I am so turned on right now. Do you do this for all your clients?”
“You'd probably be turned on if someone sneezed, fifty miles away,” she retorted, while stepping over him. Truth be told, Janice was tempted to step on him to get past, but couldn't bring herself to do it.
Jim rolled out of the way to avoid a heel being thrust into his balls, laughing, “Too late, Janice. Its on the internet!”
It was a very good thing he was protecting those balls and rolling, because she turned on a heel and her foot harmlessly kicked out into thin air. She took her purse off by the strap and started to pummel him with it, instead. And Janice? She got aim.
“...if...you crack...my ipad...I...am going...to charge...you for it...!”
Janice’s purse was like a pocket universe and it holds everything. It was practically like her luggage she took everywhere with her. She could live out of it, if she had to. So that made it a very good weapon, because it had a surprising amount of weight to it, for looking so compact.
Jim was laughing hysterically as he defended himself from the assault of the pocket universe purse. #Winning. He was feeling better in general.
Janice unleashed a noise that was a cross between an OOO!!! and a UGH!!! noise of frustration. She stalked off back up the front stairs and toward her front door, leaving him there, outside.
“This is fun.”
The front door went SLAM in a way that satisfied her greatly, and Janice decided it was nigh time she went back to work. She threw her purse down into a foyer table drawer, slammed that shut, and stormed into her office. Around the desk she went in a fit and she sat her butt right down in her chair. “...ugh!”
She took it in stride and was back to writing an e-mail to answer a past client, in no time, flat. It was correspondence hour, after all! Even if there wasn't all that much correspondence to reply to, today.
Jim stared at the door she’d slammed and then walked around, and crawled in through the open window. He leaned on her chair from behind.
Janice jerked a little bit when she realized he was there, behind her. Maybe he was a creepy serial killer! No, he was just an ass. But was he reading over her shoulder?! And did she leave my front door unlocked again or something?! What the hell!
Without swiveling her chair at all, Janice turned her shoulders and craned her neck to look up at him.
“Use the door next time. Oh, here's a bright idea too? How about knocking, sir?”
He knocked on her desk.
“On the door, jackass, the door,” was the sarcastic response, before Janice caught herself and corrected, immediately. “I meant sir, not jackass. I mean...just knock next time. And how would you like it if I read over your shoulder?”
Something didn’t look right. He certainly still looked like trouble, but upon further inspection, he looked like he was running on fumes. She squinted, like that would add that extra pinch of scrutiny she deemed necessary at a time like this. “You look like hell, now that I've gotten a closer look at you.”
“Captain jackass doesn't need sleep. Captain Jackass will sleep when he’s dead.” He grinned, tiredly.
“All right, captain is it?” Oh no, she wasn’t having that at all. Janice stood up, grabbed hold of the front of his shirt and began hauling him along behind her. It was probably funny looking, since the top of her head maybe would meet the underside of his chin, if she was having a hair piled on top of head hair-do day. Needless to say she wasn’t, and her hair was down, which probably added to the hilariousness of the pocket universe pummeling he’d taken. If he put up any further resistance, she continued to stubbornly drag him along, while saying, “I'll take care of this.”
So much fun.
He? Was an overgrown man-child, she swears to God. Drag drag!
In fact, Janice dragged him all the way into her living room. A living room which has some very interesting nebulous paintings hanging around on the walls, almost picture perfect and yet still abstract, because they looked like lone puzzle pieces to something much larger.
She pushed him down onto the couch, grabbed his ankles, put his feet up, and pushed his head down with a fingertip. Staying put? Good. Janice fetched a blanket and threw it over him. She also retreated to open a window and let a breeze in, so he could hear the ocean. Sometimes the white noise helped.
When it seemed all was done to her satisfaction, she stated very simply, “Sleep. You need a nap at least.”
She hovered near the couch, as if she was awaiting any final requests. The paintings were like a backdrop, such as this or this. No, she didn’t know why she was compelled to paint them, and only thought they ended up turning out rather pretty. She has noooooooo idea.
“That’s..pretty nice. Pretty.”
“Thanks. You can huff up the final fumes of drying oil paint from the one in the corner, while you close your eyes and count sheep.”
He looked stoned already!
She’d noticed, seriously. She even gave him a wry stare. Oh, wait! She’d forgotten something. Janice disappeared for a moment and brought back a pillow from her bedroom. It was a dusty rose shade of pink, and seemed entirely wrong for someone like her to have it, yet she does. She lifted up his head with one hand, jammed the pillow underneath with the other, and let go of his head so it went plop down upon it. All better! “Captain jackass needs his sleep.”
Meanwhile, she was thinking she’d go boost the search radius a bit and make some more calls, even if she also thought nothing will come of it. And yes, that's off the clock, too.
“Do I get a bedtime story?”
“If you do, it'll be entitled ’How the princess kicked the knight's ass, because he wouldn't stay asleep and let her get some work done.’”
Janice almost smirked. She left the room, walking back across the entryway corridor to her office. Back behind her desk, she started to get cracking on the search again.
---------
Later on, and after a whole lot of hearing 'No, haven’t seen her’ from her phone call escapade, Janice decided that she better check in on Captain Jackass. It was in that "If you did not take a nap, Jim Kirk, I will hit you on the head with an overpriced Bed Bath and Beyond candlestick, and let you lay there bleeding" sort of way, that she peeked in over the back of the couch to see if he was or was not complying.
There is much snoozling
He better not be faking it! STINK-EYE STARE? HE IS GETTING IT. “....” Ok, she looked satisfied. She also wondered when the last time the fool had eaten something, besides whatever ice cream he’d managed to down before he took that unflattering picture and she beat him up with her purse.
He’s not faking it! He even has a woody!
Maybe she should fix...some...thing...for him to ea---...OMFG! WTH, GUY WITH A BONER ON MY COUCH?!!
Janice gawked at the blanket tent, and even considered putting a small couch pillow over it!
THIS GUY HAS A SUPER MASSIVE LIBIDO OR SOMETHING, SEX ADDICT.
GUYS GET BONERS WHEN THEY SLEEP THIS IS NORMAL!
NOT WHEN YOU ARE ON A FORMER AS-OF-YESTERDAY EMPLOYEE'S COUCH!
OMG. JANICE SHIELDED IT FROM VIEW WITH BOTH HANDS HELD OUT AND THEN RAN AND GOT A LITTLE LIGHT DECORATIVE PILLOW FROM A CHAIR IN HER BEDROOM (ALSO PINK) AND PUT IT OVER THE BLANKET TENT SO IT IS HIDDEN, SIR. YES ALL IN CAPS BECAUSE ZOMG WTF.
Janice exhaled quietly like she was glad that ordeal was dealt with and not offending her professional sensibility even further.
The pillow fell off.
Nooo~ooo! She cursed inwardly, ran off, and fetched even more small pinkish decorative pillows from her room. She very cautiously, like she was playing jenga, began to build a pillow wall around it while pinching her fingers onto the edges and corners of the pillows and placing them. Now his entire pelvic region was covered! #Win!
Janice left the room, since she decided she was done building pillow barriers. By leaving, one might actually mean that she ran out of the room on her tiptoes like a ballerina ninja.
Jim peeked open an eye and grinned to himself.
If she’d seen that? She. would. kill. him. so hard.
And then she’d find a way to revive him and kill him again.
Jim wins.
Janice thinks that is NOT winning!
#Winning!
Janice was also pretty sure that maybe Kirk needed his beauty rest and that he was probably dreaming about an entire naked harem of women and he was the only one capable of satisfying them. Which was a plausible enough explanation, for what had transpired via 'springing up' on her couch.