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xp_logsMatch helps Jess move into her new office — their new office, as he begins his job as her assistant.
The office did not seem worth the rent Jess had gone on about needing to make so she could keep it. But something said that was probably impolite to say to the woman willing to give him a job – 'as soon as she got paid,' which... well that was the best option he was probably gonna get. So rather than say anything, Match nodded and ideally wondered what the place would have smelled like, if he could smell. "Okay... what do you want me to do?"
Jess dropped a cardboard box full of something heavy in a corner, to join four other beaten-up boxes next to a clearly scavenged futon couch, faded orange. The only other furniture in the room was a large desk, similarly of dubious provenance, a mysterious set of dents that looked a little like fingerprints on one metal leg, and three mismatched chairs. "Uh," she said, considering the teenager skeptically, as if she had not, herself, invited him to come here. "Well, I have a few clients - okay, it's one client, but he's solid, an ambulance-chaser down in Chinatown. He needs papers served on a bottle girl his client dragged by the weave down a flight of stairs. Allegedly. You know Google?"
"Not personally but we're acquainted." Match's dry voice lacked any inflections as he set down the plant, that he was pretty sure was dead but she'd been very clear that she was bringing it with, on the desk. After looking at the sad thing for a moment, he pushed it further from the edge and into the sliver of sunlight that was still shining. "I can google, though, just tell me what to put into the hell search engine.
"Great, your first task is going through her Instagram and figuring out where I can serve her." Walking to the desk, Jess pulled a decrepit Dell out of a drawer and opened it; though it made a little whine of protest, the screen did start up. "Uh. You know the city, right?"
"You want me... to stalk a lady's social media?" He spoke the words slowly, trying not to stare in horror at the computer that she'd taken out, because that had to be a joke. "Uh, I know District X, but, I mean, how hard could getting to know the city be?"
Jess gave him a dubious look, one hand rummaging in the drawer for a power cord. It turned out to be patched with electrical tape in several places, but the outlet didn't spark when she plugged it in. "Depends, can you tell the view from the Starbucks patio on Spring from the one on Broadway?"
Match had become distracted with the chord, glancing to the plant with a 'can you believe this shit?' incredulous look, as it was the only other potential witness/victim in case the strip took the whole building down with the amount it was kept together by the black tape. "No, but I mean, with the amount of people who take their selfies and tag the exact location, I don't think that's too big on the list." He paused, brows knitting together as he cocked his head. "Can you?"
"Sure," Jess said, then paused to actually consider it, and added, "If nothing's changed too much recently, anyway. Eh, you'll get the hang of it." Another blind grab into the drawer produced an open pack of Twizzlers, provenance unknown, which she pointed at Match and then the computer. "The point of it is, we want to serve this lady with legal papers, which she's been dodging. So I need to know where she's spending time, because I struck out at her apartment four times this week, and she got fired after the whole dragged-down-the-stairs thing."
Again he blinked slowly at what was set in front of him, the words that came out of Jess's mouth were almost entirely lost on him. But he caught 'get the hang of it,' and nodded firmly. Yeah, he could do this. "Okay, yeah, alright, I'll see what I can do." He looked around for some file that he could look over to get the woman's information before looking back to Jess with a raised brow. "Wait, what if she tries to drag you around by your hair?"
Jess blinked, then snorted. "She can do her best," she said. "Don't worry about that. Oh, let me get the notes." She walked over to the worn messenger bag she'd dropped at the door, and rifled through it before surfacing with a notepad, which she slapped down next to the computer.
Giving the computer the wide range he was sure it deserved, Match picked up the notes offered to flip through. His face turned to a mask of concentration as he flipped through the... sketches, though bubbles and random words thrown onto the pages. "Uhhhh, alright, I think, uh, I think I can make sense of this. Anything else?"
"I don't think so," Jess said. "You can let me know if you have any questions. I've got to meet with another potential client - probably a stalker, but you never know, it could be legit - but you can get me on my phone. You have a phone? Kids have a phone these days, right?"
"You- I, wh- What? I-" Match sputtered for a moment longer, hands raising, before he slowly lowered them back to his sides. A slow nod. "Yeah, I gotta phone when I got here. Here, lemme make sure you have my number." He held out a hand expectantly.
Jess at his hand, confused, then shrugged, fished a pen out of her back pocket, and scrawled her number on his palm. "You can get ahold of me there," she said.
His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and finally firmly closed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from where she had written a number on his hands, utterly confused by the action. A brow rose and again, he nodded. "Okay. I, uhhhh, okay. I'll text you if I need you or just send you the location I pin down? Does that- is that okay?"
"Sure," Jess said, heading back over to the messenger bag and slinging it over a shoulder. "Let me know if you need anything, I guess." She obviously couldn't think of what he might need, but felt it should be said anyway.
“‘kay, can do,” Match agreed, relieved by the offer, before he went to sit at the… laptop that really just had to be a blunt force object more than anything. “Wait, I need the login information!”
Jess paused, brow wrinkling in concentration. "Uh . . . I think the username is Jessica. And the password should just be 'password'. Try that."
He wanted to argue, to demand she stop pulling his leg already, but… no, no she seemed entirely serious, so slowly swallowing back everything, he nodded again. “I’ll text you once I know something. Uh, have fun, be safe?”
"Uh, sure," she said, serenely unaware of having any effect at all on the teenager, and raised her hand in a wave, letting the door slam shut behind her.
The office did not seem worth the rent Jess had gone on about needing to make so she could keep it. But something said that was probably impolite to say to the woman willing to give him a job – 'as soon as she got paid,' which... well that was the best option he was probably gonna get. So rather than say anything, Match nodded and ideally wondered what the place would have smelled like, if he could smell. "Okay... what do you want me to do?"
Jess dropped a cardboard box full of something heavy in a corner, to join four other beaten-up boxes next to a clearly scavenged futon couch, faded orange. The only other furniture in the room was a large desk, similarly of dubious provenance, a mysterious set of dents that looked a little like fingerprints on one metal leg, and three mismatched chairs. "Uh," she said, considering the teenager skeptically, as if she had not, herself, invited him to come here. "Well, I have a few clients - okay, it's one client, but he's solid, an ambulance-chaser down in Chinatown. He needs papers served on a bottle girl his client dragged by the weave down a flight of stairs. Allegedly. You know Google?"
"Not personally but we're acquainted." Match's dry voice lacked any inflections as he set down the plant, that he was pretty sure was dead but she'd been very clear that she was bringing it with, on the desk. After looking at the sad thing for a moment, he pushed it further from the edge and into the sliver of sunlight that was still shining. "I can google, though, just tell me what to put into the hell search engine.
"Great, your first task is going through her Instagram and figuring out where I can serve her." Walking to the desk, Jess pulled a decrepit Dell out of a drawer and opened it; though it made a little whine of protest, the screen did start up. "Uh. You know the city, right?"
"You want me... to stalk a lady's social media?" He spoke the words slowly, trying not to stare in horror at the computer that she'd taken out, because that had to be a joke. "Uh, I know District X, but, I mean, how hard could getting to know the city be?"
Jess gave him a dubious look, one hand rummaging in the drawer for a power cord. It turned out to be patched with electrical tape in several places, but the outlet didn't spark when she plugged it in. "Depends, can you tell the view from the Starbucks patio on Spring from the one on Broadway?"
Match had become distracted with the chord, glancing to the plant with a 'can you believe this shit?' incredulous look, as it was the only other potential witness/victim in case the strip took the whole building down with the amount it was kept together by the black tape. "No, but I mean, with the amount of people who take their selfies and tag the exact location, I don't think that's too big on the list." He paused, brows knitting together as he cocked his head. "Can you?"
"Sure," Jess said, then paused to actually consider it, and added, "If nothing's changed too much recently, anyway. Eh, you'll get the hang of it." Another blind grab into the drawer produced an open pack of Twizzlers, provenance unknown, which she pointed at Match and then the computer. "The point of it is, we want to serve this lady with legal papers, which she's been dodging. So I need to know where she's spending time, because I struck out at her apartment four times this week, and she got fired after the whole dragged-down-the-stairs thing."
Again he blinked slowly at what was set in front of him, the words that came out of Jess's mouth were almost entirely lost on him. But he caught 'get the hang of it,' and nodded firmly. Yeah, he could do this. "Okay, yeah, alright, I'll see what I can do." He looked around for some file that he could look over to get the woman's information before looking back to Jess with a raised brow. "Wait, what if she tries to drag you around by your hair?"
Jess blinked, then snorted. "She can do her best," she said. "Don't worry about that. Oh, let me get the notes." She walked over to the worn messenger bag she'd dropped at the door, and rifled through it before surfacing with a notepad, which she slapped down next to the computer.
Giving the computer the wide range he was sure it deserved, Match picked up the notes offered to flip through. His face turned to a mask of concentration as he flipped through the... sketches, though bubbles and random words thrown onto the pages. "Uhhhh, alright, I think, uh, I think I can make sense of this. Anything else?"
"I don't think so," Jess said. "You can let me know if you have any questions. I've got to meet with another potential client - probably a stalker, but you never know, it could be legit - but you can get me on my phone. You have a phone? Kids have a phone these days, right?"
"You- I, wh- What? I-" Match sputtered for a moment longer, hands raising, before he slowly lowered them back to his sides. A slow nod. "Yeah, I gotta phone when I got here. Here, lemme make sure you have my number." He held out a hand expectantly.
Jess at his hand, confused, then shrugged, fished a pen out of her back pocket, and scrawled her number on his palm. "You can get ahold of me there," she said.
His mouth opened, closed, opened again, and finally firmly closed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from where she had written a number on his hands, utterly confused by the action. A brow rose and again, he nodded. "Okay. I, uhhhh, okay. I'll text you if I need you or just send you the location I pin down? Does that- is that okay?"
"Sure," Jess said, heading back over to the messenger bag and slinging it over a shoulder. "Let me know if you need anything, I guess." She obviously couldn't think of what he might need, but felt it should be said anyway.
“‘kay, can do,” Match agreed, relieved by the offer, before he went to sit at the… laptop that really just had to be a blunt force object more than anything. “Wait, I need the login information!”
Jess paused, brow wrinkling in concentration. "Uh . . . I think the username is Jessica. And the password should just be 'password'. Try that."
He wanted to argue, to demand she stop pulling his leg already, but… no, no she seemed entirely serious, so slowly swallowing back everything, he nodded again. “I’ll text you once I know something. Uh, have fun, be safe?”
"Uh, sure," she said, serenely unaware of having any effect at all on the teenager, and raised her hand in a wave, letting the door slam shut behind her.
