Mark & Jennie, backdated to Saturday

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Jennie finds herself unable to charm Silver's bartenders, but gets a lucky break when she meets Mark.


"So, Larry, all I'm sayin' is, I have been to several countries where the legal limit is not as high as it is here. I mean, honestly, when you think about it. It's kinda stupid. You know, I can go join the Army and die for my country, but a vodka tonic is beyond me." Jennie was leaning over the bar just so, that Larry could see an ample portion of cleavage without it being obvious that that was what Jennie was doing. Unfortunately she was striking out rather hard there. "I mean, seriously. Damn the man. I won't tell." She winked at him and gave him a mischievous smile.

Larry just shook his head. "No ID, no drink." His deep, booming voice could even be heard over the throb of the club's impressive sound system. Another young lady scooted up beside Jennie, flashed the marker-drawn X on her hand, and immediately received a SoCo and Sprite. She flashed a smile at Jennie as she left, happily sipping away. "Are you still here?" asked Larry as he turned back and spotted Jennie still standing.

"It's really no use, hon," Mark said sadly, hopping up on a stool next to her. He had barely held out his hand before the Jack and Coke appeared. "Larry here is a bit stingy. Stick's too far up his butt."

Jennie sighed heavily, swinging around and leaning back against the bar, surveying the pulsing crowd in front of her. If Larry wasn't going to give her a drink, then Larry couldn't look anymore. "Sadness, I am a very sad Bunny," she said, with a mock pout. "Not only am I liquor free, but I have met a man immune to my wiles. Clearly, this requires going back to the drawing board." The girl flicked her hair out of her eyes and looked at Mark. "Hey, I know you. You're Receptionist Guy. You like to torment people with Emo."

"My reputation precedes me. And, uh, gets the better of me." Mark opened the mental journal of faces he saw at least semi-regularly at Snow Valley. A light bulb might as well have appeared when he recognized the face looking at him. "Ah. You're one of Xavier's, right? The one who's been studying with Wanda."

"I would be, I'm Jennie," she extended a hand to Mark, palm-down. "And I'm sorry, but all I know you is as Receptionist Guy. I'm blanking on your name." Which might have had something to do with the previous drinks consumed at places where she had able to use her fake I.D. to get in.

Mark chuckled and briefly grabbed her hand to lightly brush his lips against it, all gentlemanly-like. "Mark. The one who works here, too, and can break all the rules. Yo, Larry." The bartender instantly appeared, eyebrow raised curiously. "Vodka tonic."

The smile grew wider when Mark brushed his lips against the back of her hand, and a delicately groomed eyebrow raised when her drink appeared by her elbow. "I knew I liked you for a reason." Jennie lifted the glass and toasted Mark with it. "Cheers." She took a delicate sip, careful to not smudge her lipstick. "So how have you folks been? I only know what I know through the journals and Yana's texts that her crazy boss is making her do more research again. And those have been quiet."

"We continue to think tank," replied Mark, grooving a little in his seat as a Plain White T's remix of his own making came on. "But too much thinking, not enough tanking. I'd love to drive a tank through the offices of some of our clients. It's really astounding how some people just don't get it, you know?"

Jennie shrugged a shoulder and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, also checking to see if the flower in her hair was still fixed in place. "They're scared. I understand why, we're scary. But we're still just people. Some good, and some bad." She looked out over the crowd for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then she turned back to Mark with another brilliant smile. "This your mix, isn't it?"

Mark smiled proudly behind his tumbler. "How can you tell? Did the Madonna vocals give it away?" The trademark of his style. He downed the rest of his drink and not-so gently put the glass down on the bar, where it was immediately scooped up. "Wanna dance?"

"I would love to," Jennie said, polishing off her own drink and setting it much more gently on the bar. She extended her hand again and let him lead her out onto the dance floor. After a few minutes she leaned in close, talking into his ear so he could here her. "You're not bad at all, sunshine."

Mark's fingertips sparked as Roisin Murphy "Ramalama Bang Bang"ed the club. "You're just sayin' that 'cuz I broke New York State law for you," he replied, grinning slyly.

The girl's grin turned mischievous. "What if I am? Any man who breaks the law for a girl is worth a few dances"

"Last time I flirted with one of Xavier's" - Mark leaned in closely and spoke just loudly enough for Jennie to hear - "I got cock-blocked. Gotta be careful. A man's gotta keep up his reputation, you know."

Jennie snorted. "No chance of that here, I'm flying solo tonight." Although it was probably in Mark's best interests to go as far as Jennie would let him. The last guy who got too grabby ended up with a broken nose.

And Mark's wardrobe didn't include anything that would take people's attention off that. Though come to think of it, given the potential of Snow Valley's "consulting gigs," that might not be such a bad idea. "Good girl. So you'd rather just go 'round teasing every guy who gives you a second look, eh?"

"Not teasing," Jennie said, "window shopping. I have standards, you know. I have to make sure every guy who breaks the law for me meets them." She winked.

Mark sighed theatrically. "That might not be me, then. Alas. I'm not noble enough to break the law for anything more than selfishness. Assuming you're looking for a noble kinda guy, that is."

The dark-haired girl flapped a hand dismissively, not even missing a beat. "Me? Noble? Are you kidding?" She spun around, still dancing to the music.

"For certain definitions of 'noble,'" he clarified. "I've heard stories about you crazy Xavier's types, and I work with a bunch of alumni. Generic labels don't always apply to y'all, I've noticed." Mark flashed a grin again as he shuffled forward zombie-like in time with the beat. "Good thing I'm a New Yorker and defy labels myself."

Jennie moved along with Mark, matching his movements seamlessly. She may have seen that episode of So You Think You Can Dance, as well. "Aw, come on now. Crazy Xavier's Type, isn't that a label of its own? I am beyond labels."

Mark smiled and continued the routine, their wide movements cutting open space for them on the dancefloor. "More of a category than a label, I think. How do you describe yourself, then?"

"I am indescribibable, Mr. New Yorker," Jennie said, twirling with a flourish.