Janice Rand is an organization specialist (not_a_secretary) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-04-20 14:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, alice liddell, james kirk, janice rand, truthiness plot |
"Permission to speak freely again. You're a idiot."
Who: Alice, Janice Rand, Jim Kirk
What: crazy phonecall happens, then Janice gets truthful!blunt and Kirk gets lost. Then found. Then zonks.
When: Yesterday
Where: Janice's place, and undisclosed location of lostitudes
Rating: PG13, some language
Status: Complete
Alice didn’t wait for Janice to introduce herself. She sat upside down on her couch, a bottle of Jolt cola sitting amongst another 12 bottles, “Can you organize my brain?”
This constituted one of the weirder request she had ever received. At least it was over the phone. “No. It doesn't work like that. I'm not a therapist.”
“You organize. My brain is disorganized.” The british girl sounded insistent, as if this made all the sense in the world.
Patience, Janice, patience. She went to her internal zen garden in her head, which helped her cope with the crazy around her, sometimes.
“No. I don't do brains. Sorry. You need a psychologist for that,” Janice finally said, after a few token seconds of internal contemplation. She shook her head and hung up the phone.
At least that was over. Janice let out a low, slow whistle, like there are some real nutjobs out there.
“Bugger!” Alice stared at the phone, ”I will cut you.” She threw it across the room. Her stuffed rabbit just stared at her, “I’ll cut you too.”
After rolling her eyes, Janice went right back to searching her way up the coast toward San Francisco. She would never admit it to anyone, even under duress, but she was not a quitter. She was very self-motivated.
Jim wondered if he was going to get himself arrested at this rate.
If he did, Janice would just vouch for him. If it was for being a suspected murderer, especially, since she didn’t think that he had anything to do with the disappearance.
He was harassing ports, still trying to find Bela.
Well that’s good, because it was better than being arrested for murder. She was about 99.9% convinced that he hadn’t done anything wrong at all. Sure, he was male and probably had dicked way too many girls in his time, but he didn’t strike her as a killer or anything. Either way, she was still making up cover stories and using an alternate disposable phone for the latest batch of calls, so there wasn’t much worry on her end.
Jim would totally give her a count!
No thanks, that sort of number would probably cause the planet to crack in two, from the sheer amount of number stacking involved.Its over 9000! It’s less than 100? Jim rang her up, “Hey, Janice?”
She would facepalm. Even at the less than a hundred.
She had answered the phone while staring fixedly at the screen, on a newly revised search. “Oh. Hello, Mister Kirk. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Whattup?”
Huh? Wha...? Janice just blinked, lots. “...work. Well, searching. Still. You?”
“Still putting up flyers.”
“You haven't heard anything, have you.”
He sighed, shaking his head, “Not a word.”
“That's not good. I don't want to nag either. Did you think about an investigator? We're not exactly getting any leads with this.”
“I was going to call a detective I know but...”
“But?” Janice wondered why was there always a 'but.’ She began tapping an index finger on the edge of her keyboard without touching a single button, like she was waiting.
He scowled, beating his fist on the steering wheel, “I don't want to hunt Isabela down like she's some criminal.”
“...are you ready to accept it now and simply wait?”
“Maybe. Maybe I'll do something stupid. I can call Bones for bail.” He grinned at himself.
“Can you possibly not end up in jail, sir?” She looked concerned now. “What sort of stupid thing do you have in your head right now, anyway?”
“Grand theft boat.”
“You have no idea where she's headed,” Janice very bluntly pointed out, trying to be the voice of reason. “What are you going to do, sail recklessly all over the globe with no general direction, for the next few years? I thought you were talking about going to the moon.”
“Please outline your priorities at least,” she said as a closing statement, before quickly tacking on a very aptly put, “You're too reckless.”
He peered up at the sky, “I'll pick the second star to the right and go straight on 'till morning.”
Janice sat back in her desk chair nearly to the point of slouching down, while holding the phone against her ear. She did not sigh or anything, but did sound exasperated. “You are really going to do that, hm? Permission to speak freely again. You're a idiot.”
“The hell. You didn't even wait to ask permission.” He preferred it that way, but still!
“Screw permission. You're an idiot.” Why was she feeling a tiny glimmer of anger at him for acting this way? “You can't simply abandon what you have right now, just to chase off after some woman who obviously left for whatever reason of her own choosing. For once, probably, playboy who has a sexual outlet, you've been dumped. It happens to everyone. Let that sink in and call me back when you've absorbed it fully, and stop seeing things with pussy blinders on. Sir.” Janice hung up the phone like she intended to break it. “UGH!!!!”
She began to TYPE WITH POUNDY FINGERTIPS.
Jim bristled. He was supremely insulted. The fuck did this woman even know? He threw his phone onto the carseat and floored it.
GRAWRR, thought Janice. STUPID MEN WITH THEIR STUPID SHORT-SIGHTED SHORT-SIGHTEDNESS W/DISORGANIZED MESSES AND ABANDONING THEIR PROJECTS, ET CETERA! I CAN NOT TYPE HARDER THAN I AM RIGHT NOW. ←-that period was typed as though if it landed on a page via an old-school typewriter, and it would sound like THUNDER.
It wasn’t even about the sex! He wasn’t going to abandon his project, but it wasn’t about the sex. It was something else. Even if he was under the influence of the truth crap flying around the only answer he could give would be ‘I don’t know.’ Because he didn’t know.
Meanwhile, in Laguna Beach, Janice’s thoughts were comprised of some very bold fonted lettering, containing such glittering gems like: HE LOVED AND LOST, IT HAPPENS TO EVERYONE AND NO IT IS NOT GOING TO GO AWAY PROBABLY NOT EVER, JUST FADE OVER TIME. HE HAS TO FIND A WAY TO GET PAST IT, ALL RIGHT?!
Jim laid off the gas. He could accept this, he just...didn’t want to. He pulled over and beat his head on the steering wheel.
THE SOONER HE ACCEPTED THIS, THE SOONER HE CAN MOVE ON WITH HIS LIFE, Janice continued to rant-think, angrily chewing on a handful of now stale microwaved popcorn. Its been like a week wtf?!Well she knows but GOD DID YOU HEAR YOURSELF GOING TO GET BOAT AND GO AFTER WHAT NOW?
It was a good idea at the time?
She would say that he should go tell that to his Scottish friend or doctor friend. She’d imagine they'd take THAT well, too. THINK, sir, before you ACT, because your actions affect others!hatesorry! but that’s how she felt. stupid truth stuff!
Jim grabbed his phone, getting out of his car and walking out to the beach. He stood for awhile, watching the waves. Fuck women anyway.
Meanwhile, she was maybe feeling a little guilty about telling Kirk that. Work was blown. She finished up that revised search and shot off a couple e-mails, before deciding she would go paint to get her mind off everything. She had told him to call back, but feared maybe she had been too blunt. After all, Janice was trying to keep to herself a bit, until the world went back to its previously filtered self.
She started to mix some colors, put the brush to the canvas, and continued to work on the latest painting in progress.
He headed back to his car and looked around, realizing he was lost, “Well shit.”Kirk, you retard.
Janice was currently smoothing out the edge of a space cloud so it blended over part of a point of light, without obscuring it. But if she knew he was lost, she would facepalm and get paint all over her face. However, she doesn't know, so is just doing her painting thing in her usual painting attire! White button down men’s shirt and itty bitty shorts. A window was open a crack to let the breeze in, and so she wasn’t huffing up paint thinner.
Not letting mind nag on her...not letting mind nag on her...not letting... Janice stopped and eyed the phone. ...mind nag on her.
Painting was not working and she couldn’t do it while her mind was nagging on her. She cleaned the brush at warp one, at least, and then grabbed the phone off nearby table and dialed. Because, by that point, she was worried he maybe did something dumb. Something like boat dumb....or worse. After all, she barely knew the guy and was making vast assumptions, and what if maybe she said something that drove his reckless butt over the edge. Literally or figuratively. She’d never forgive herself. He was a past client, too! Ugh.
He whipped out his phone, texting Rand, ‘Lost’
Janice blinked, ended the call and and stared down at the phone in disbelief. She mouthed the word 'what?!' at it silently and then texted: 'how?'
It was the day and age of GPS. How did one get LOST?
He hopped into the back seat, relicing, ‘have old flip phone’
'where did you park the car?' She had flying fingers of expert texting. They were damn fast. And what did he mean LOST?! GAH DAMN THAT FLIP PHONE THAT MADE HER STARE AT IT FUNNY. Janice was meanwhile making srs!face while waiting for a response.
‘At edge of path, not sure where’
'ocean or hills?'
‘both!’
'let me get my pants on.'
Janice hauled butt for the bedroom, forgetting entirely that she's got paint hands and did facepalm in there somewhere during the Y U NO HAS GPS thing. So now she had a smudge of yellowish green warpaint on her cheek.
Jim stared at his screen, then shrugged, 'pics or it didn't happen'
“UGH!” she cried out, when she saw what that last text on her phone. He wanted a pic? She took a picture of her bare knee before she pulls on some khaki capri pants, but that's all he gets. A kneecap. Really close up.
'aw I wanted a bit of thigh...' This was too fun. It was like trolling.
'where were you heading toward last and no thigh'
Was he trolling her? Janice rolled her eyes and smiled. “Ass hat.”
Well, ok, she changed her mind, pulled her pants leg way up, and took a pic that is SO UNBELIEVABLY CLOSE UP of her upper leg just two inches above her knee. So it looked like just flat pale skin color and no definition of where it's really at or anything. Then she hit send. “Heh.”
Jim grinned, “I think I’m getting to her. Maybe she’ll learn to chillax. She’s flirtier than she realizes.”
No, Janice is not flirty! She slipped on very sensible shoes and headed for her purse and the front door soon afterward. She was back to srs!face again. The way she saw it, she was being very reasonable and if he was distracted, that’s you, mister Jim T(rouble) Kirk, then you will stay put. Maybe!
See? She has planning skills y0!
He had to try, 'Can I get boob?'
Janice had been taking the steps down to her car at warp two, without falling. Ok, so she hit the last step and nearly stumbled when she read that. OH NO. She shook her head, and typed out forcefully. 'NO'
‘help a man out here. maybe I'll go exploring'
'going to drive along coast road looking for car. stay put.'
“Give him an inch and he'll take a mile,” Janice grumbled under her breath while getting into the car. Off she goes, driving, trying to keep to the speed limit so she didn’t get pulled over or anything. God forbid that happened again. While she was driving, she was keeping an eye out for that nice, old red car he had.
Jim was glad he’d taken the top off. The back seat was comfy and the breeze was nice.
Ok, maybe he’ll stay put if she throws the dog a bone. She stuck the phone AGAINST her boob while driving, so it's a dark shadowy blur of skin, just under bra strap. Not even under the material cuppy part. Look good? Looks like nothing? Great. Janice hit send. He's not getting details, nope! Janice kept right on driiiiiiiiving.
Because, in her mind, she thinks he is in trouble. Real trouble, like lost person trouble. But she will try to stab him with purse pens if she finds him napping in the backseat of his car.
“Nice....” He really was lost. Just staying put.
She had no idea of he was in the backseat of his car or outside of the car. He probably hasn’t slept again. And she might stab him, anyway. For making her worry like that.
Ok, fine, maybe she wouldn’t stab him. That's bad. No stabbity, Janice, no stabbity.
Finally, somehow, Janice caught sight of a flash of red, and...yep, that resembled his car. She pulled over and parked nearby, getting out to inspect it and make sure.
Jim was still reclined in backseat. He had his phone plugged in charging 'cause it was dead.
Was he...? Janice started to march as she closed the rest of the distance between her and his car. She looked ready to thump his melon, meaning his head (on his shoulders), not other parts of his anatomy.
“I thought you were lost.” Ok, no, that wasn’t good enough. She thwapped! him! right! on! the! shoulder! with her paint hand! For making her worry like that!
“I am lost!” He flailed against the wapping, “I don't know where I am! Help! I’m being assaulted!”
“You're on the coastal highway! All you have to do is go north or south and you'll end up either in Laguna Beach or Newport Beach! Or go too far south and you're in Dana Point. Anyway, you're hardly lost.” Janice maybe looked worried for maybe 1 fleeting second, but that was it. “I have a hard time believing anyone like you gets lost.”
“I'm not familiar with the area, Miss Rand.” He grinned at her, “So I didn't know where I was. Therefore I was lost.”
She had stopped thwapping at least, in the middle of telling him locations. She still had a shred of mercy left, after all.
“You can't text someone saying 'lost' like that, though. You could've specified you were lost on the side of the road, instead I was imagining you halfway down a cliff somewhere.” Janice took out her phone. “When is your birthday?”
The minute he prattled off whatever is just going to make note on calendar to 'send James T Kirk a garmin for his car' in it.
“I was down towards the ocean.” He gave her his birthday.
Janice entered it in and made the note. Her phone went back into her purse, as she shook her head at him.
“When did you last sleep or eat?” Maybe that'd explain the lost too, since it was probably pretty easy to get discombobulated if one hasn't eaten or slept regularly.
“Uh...” 96 hours ago?
Janice took a close squinty look at him, and the way he looked? She believed it was true. She gave him a grim staring at.
“God damn it, Jim Kirk. Can you drive at all? Without crashing?”
“I think so.To the nearest motel anyway.”
Well, it wasn’t too far at least. “If you can make it to my place, you can have the couch. Otherwise, there's a motel just a little way, up ahead. Let's see if we can get you there, first.” She eyed him warily because he looks wasted, motel was going to be the best bet.
“Your place it is!” He hopped into the front seat, “Lead on, Ms Rand!”
Janice made the classic D: face with her mouth dropped open and the stare of a million cricket symphony chirping away in the background. She had expected him to say the motel, because that was the reasonable choice.
“Whaaa....now wait, are you sure?”
Grin.
“I'll take that as a yes,” she dryly said, and warily eyed him as she walked back to her car. “Follow me.”
Janice got in and droves at reasonable speed limit back to her house. She made sure to keep an eye in the rearview just in case he passed out and swerved off the road toward the ocean, in which case she’d have to call 911 to haul his corpse off to the morgue. Finally she made it home and parked the car. She also facepalmed so freakin' hard, because she had no clue how she’d gotten involved in this. Oh, right, he hired her on and she was usually really nice to past clients, because they gave good referrals to other people and businesses, and sometimes hired her again if things got out of hand, so on and so forth.
Janice had got out and made sure he was still driving in, hopefully without killing anyone or hitting the house. He was close enough and could make it. She hoped. She went up the steps, threw her purse into a drawer, kicked her shoes off down the length of the foyer hallway, and started to get stuff for the couch. Blanket and pillows.
Kirk skidded in next to her car with precision badassitude, and sauntered in. He promptly fell onto his face in the hallway, zonked out.
D: went Janice again, for the second time that night.
“Holy crap,” she said, while going D: even more, her head tilted down to look at him as he lay there, zonked out.
Well he couldn’t stay there, so she grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him into the living room. That wasn’t easy, he was a fair amount taller than she was. She tried to slap his face lightly to get him awake and up onto the couch, but she doubted he’d even remember that in the morning. Janice pulled off his shoes, covered with the blanket and let him SLEEP. ...the hell!
Kirk was zonked!
No DUH. Janice went to lock up, clean the paint off herself, and went right to bed. Zzz!
Kirk.Need.Power.Nap.