Where: Pearlies Diner
When: April 9, 2012
What: A discussion that shouldn't really be had in public.
It's been years since she's been into this place. Heather caught a break this morning and opted to change clothes and get out of the courthouse for a while. She's still got her dark hair pinned up, but she's dressed in a pair of casual jeans and a long-sleeved top. As she lets herself in the door she removes a pair of sunglasses from her eyes and scans the room briefly. She hadn't been expecting to see a somewhat familiar face, and she pauses there a moment uncertainly. Then she walks toward Topper's table and asks, "Mind a bit of company for lunch?"
Topper's eyes follow Heather once she enters, even with a change of clothes, he can remember her, I mean, she works for the Law in this town, he takes good notice of some one like that. "Eye Candy to go with my heart attack, how could I ever say no?" He teases her, shifting his legs so she has more room to settle in. "Now this isn't some attempt to make me answer more self incriminating questions, is it?" He teases her.
Perching her sunglasses on top of her head, the brunette slips into the seat across from him and laughs. "Why Mr. Nash, you do know you have the right to counsel before you answer questions, right?" she teases back. "This place hasn't changed a bit," she observes as she looks around.
Nash moves to put a few fries in his mouth, chewing on them before swallowing, and then decides to dip another into his malt to try it that way. "Isn't that why it's a popular dive?" he asks her, seems he has encountered this type of place before. "Back in Wisconsin, there was this dive that put so much butter on their burger, it soaked through the baskets and leaked on the counter.." He says wistfully.
That brings a wrinkle to Heather's nose — the quintessential 'ew, gross' face. "I think I'll pass, thanks," she chuckles. When the waitress stops by she orders a vanilla milkshake and a hamburger with the requisite side of fries. "Although it probably tastes far better than it sounds. Such things usually do."
Nash picks up one of his cheeseburgers and bites into it, revealing his fried eggs still have a runny yolk, followed with some of his malt to wash it down, then gingerly wiping his face with a napkin. "Just like cheeseburgers with bacon and eggs on them are alot better then you'd expect. I'm still pretty sure I can't advocate this as healthy." He admits to Heather with a slight grin to his features. "So far, no one has been convinced I'm Chris Walken here though."
"Well, I suppose that's something, at least." Heather tilts her head. "You do bear a resemblance. And even if you were Christopher Walken, in all honesty? Long as you avoided the touristy places in town, you probably wouldn't get mobbed too bad. No one expects to see a celebrity in their favorite bar. Why would a celebrity go there?" She grins cheekily.
Nash rolls his shoulders a bit at her question and then glances at the door briefly. "Ever manage to get your hands on the Toxology report?" He asks her in a casual tone, he hasn't heard any thing from the cop who questioned him, not that a cop is likely to hand over some thing like that.
"I told you that it wasn't my case, Nash," Heather replies mildly. "But I'd still like to know what exactly you expect to find that the police and medical examiner are going to miss." She rests her elbows on the table. "C'mon… you're asking me for confidential information if I can get my hands on it. What's going on?" She keeps her voice low, her expression a pleasant smile, but there's a hardness to her eyes.
Nash leans forward when she decides to press him, his eyes are equally hard, it's a stare down. "I've dealt with more shit then the two bit cops and doctors in this town have, they've had shootings, serial killers? I've been involved with war in all it's blessed forms, I've seen the sands of Africa, and the Jungles of the Amazon. I've seen pure cocaine being sold out of trucks, and trained to invade Siberia if needed. I want to know if some one is pushing new drugs, chemicals, or weapons in my new town. It's my responsibility to know, because I live here now. I want to keep my self and my own -safe-."
Tilting her head, Heather studies the man. "Interesting," she murmurs quietly. "So… as far as you're concerned it's fine to turn vigilante?" She pauses and waits for her burger and drink to be left on the table and when the waitress is gone, she turns her attention back to him. "Here's the thing — I'm not really into fostering that kind of activity."
Nash continues to listen to her, eyes unwavering as they watch her own eyes for a change of expression. "Lets both be candid Miss Heather, I'm the only one you've actually met here, who has a chance of proverbially out talking the devil in this field. If there is a biological agent involved in the case, I think I should know, I was there, I could be the next target to cover things up."
Heather looks somewhat incredulous. "You can't be serious!" Her food is left alone on its plate in front of her. She looks around and makes sure no one's paying attention to this, keeping her voice low to hiss. "You are an egomaniac! And I don't know you from Adam. You think you're the only person in this town who can save it? That's called a Superman complex, and you should see a shrink."
Nash's eyes narrow slightly when Heather questions his mental well being. "I beg to differ, I'm trained to deal with such things, but two world governments, most cops and doctors are not. They receive some homeland Security notifications and then inform the public they are fully prepared to deal with all emergencies. Ultimately, they end up as dead as the civillians, or worse, tyrants in an emergency."
"Wow." Heather just stares at him. "That is one hell of an opinion you've got of yourself, Mr. Nash." She really is flabbergasted. And she looks uncertain for the first time about being here with him, flashing a glance toward the waitress to try to get her attention.
Nash flashes a wry smile at Heather, full of self confidence. "It's because I was in Special Forces, we're supposed to be prepared to start a war, and end a war. We're meant to know every thing." he reminds her quietly.
"Look, I'll buy that you're ex-special forces. But you're coming across at this moment like a conspiracy theorist just barely better than the Unabomber," Heather comments quietly. "And you're kind of freakin' me out, here, trying to get hold of protected information."
Nash's eyes flash again when she calls it protected information. "You are as guilty as me if you look at it, and we both want to. The Detective who spoke to me with the follow ups was trying to grill me for information due to my background, but I'm not going to help until I know what's actually going on." He says sternly, though what his true motivations are is beyond any one at the table. "For all you know, I could be a bio chemist who actually has a synethic to counter the agent, but he wants to make sure it's the right one before giving it to the authorities, am I not correct?"
Its a diner yes…so why the sort of individual who enters the establishment would come here, nobody knows but the androgynous person comes into the diner, moving along with a cat like grace as he tosses his hair out of his face to get his bearings before he lets the hair fall back into his face and he looks around thoughtfully, resting a hand on his bag. Diamond has arrived.
"Well, if that's the case, you're little better than an opportunist trying to make an end run around someone. Because if you *did* have such a thing, you'd also have the credentials to back it up and be able to walk right into the police department or the medical examiner's office and ask for the information you need on the basis of those credentials," Heather fires back. She glances up as the door opens and clamps her mouth shut. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing at, and I don't know why you chose me to play it. But you're starting to make me concerned that I should let the cops know about you — because for all *I* know, you're the one who dosed her."
Nash lips split into a wry grin at her theory he dosed her. "Not likely, and I'm choosing you because we both have a periphal position to the system. Some one who acquired such toxin, if it was Toxin, which they seem to think it is, definitely has connections. I'm new here, and you aren't overly connected, and unless I'm mistaken, you have no personal stake in the case. Remember, I've been in third world countries for years, corruption in the official government is pretty common there, I think if some one will make headway, it's going to be some one like you. You have enough pull to see things, but not enough to be noticed by the corruption, at least, not yet."
Diamond happens to pass by that table in time to hear the information…he's hearing an he just stares for a few moment, but discreetly, lashes lowered as he flicks between the two with a thoughtful expression and he purses his lips before without an invitation he slides into the booth on Topper's side and unless he moves, right into his lap as well as he takes a deep breath and fans himself with a fan he's slid out of he bag and flicked open in a smooth movement. "Oh there you are sweetcheeks…your deposit bounces mon cherie…"
Heather starts to say something else and then suddenly the … person (because she's not sure if he's a boy or girl!)… is in Topper's lap. A single brow quirks upward and she comments as if a hooker making her (his?) business known in public is not even unexpected, "Bad business." It's unclear whether she's referring to Diamond's actions or the idea that Topper's check bounced.
Topper raises an eyebrow at the new turn of events, he doesn't even seem surprised by them, but more confused by the idea of a check bouncing. "I don't use checks." He says to the boigirl in his lap and looks towards Heather with a slight grin. "A twinge of upset in your tone Heather? I think you enjoyed a chance to berate me." He says before moving to pull out his wallet one handedly, and start slipping some hundreds out, and holds them up in front of Diamond's face. "This should cover what ever you think I owe, yes?" He asks.
A wry twist of his lips before he looks to Heather and snaps his fan closed. "Listen here mon petite…I think you are adorable no? Beautiful skin and I'm sure the hair down below is as fine looking as the hair on top…but you can't speak of such politically shaky tings with…" He squirms a bit where he sits. "Well…not little but ahh…special well sized men like this, hm? It isn't good for your skin." Diamond then turns his attention to Topper and the dollar bills held up. "…not shiny enough lovely…now shh, sit still, you owe nothing but I do need a new mattress, damn your eccentric kinks…" He tosses his hair back before offering a hand to Heather. "Forgive hm?"
Heather moves to stand up and just chuckles at Diamond. "I really don't need to know his kinks. And I'm not the one who started this conversation, dammit. Maybe *he* ought to …" She looks around and lowers her voice to a whisper, "stop talking like a freakin' terrorist!"
Topper doesn't seem overly upset about Diamond apparently making every thing in the world up about him, it's probably safer then revealing he can be a boring old man seeing as he's supposed to be retired from any thing fun. "I don't think we've actually met." he says, gently poking against Diamond's side with the the money he pulled out. "If we have, then I'm afraid I don't remember which ever country it was."
Diamond's well-groomed eyebrow raises as he regards Heather quietly for a few moments and lowers the hand he had offered. "Are you leaving so soon ma cocette…" Then he just looks back over his shoulder a bit at Topper. "A terrorist…really? Come now then mon tresor..then, terrorize me…speak the dirty little naughty words…" He gives a cackly little giggle and rolls his eyes before looking back to Heather. "Don't leave, come…tell me what to order, hm? Obviously the bad boy here will be paying…so lets order all the most expensive deserts him? And no, good sir, we have never met…you'd remember."
She didn't mean to be rude. "Heather," she murmurs her name to Diamond readily. And she looks a good bit confused about the current turn of events. She doesn't get out of her seat, though. "Burgers, definitely." And for this moment she contents herself drinking from her milkshake. Cuz… she has no idea what else to say!
Topper also seems some what perplexed too, seems Diamond is a rather largely unknown variable to him. "The malts are excellent too." He says before moving forward to whisper some thing equally sweet nothing, equally perverted promise into Diamond's ear, in Parisian accented French. He is a man of surprises, that, and he is former French Foreign Legion after all. "Perhaps afterwards, we can all retire to my private home away from the prying public eye of attention.." he says, winking mostly at Heather, to try and see how she reacts.
"M' Diamond. And yes…I can indeed be a girl's best friend…" Diamond replies to Heather with a wry smirk and then he just leans back against Topper comfortably as he taps a nail against the table and nods slowly, listening to the suggestions and then jumps a bit when Topper whispers in his ear and there's a flutter of lashes as he processes what just happened and covers with a soft cough and flip of his wrist. "Do I look that easy bebe? Oh my…" He nods to Heather and shrugs his shoulders. "Alas, I knew this top would make me look slutty…if only I was as blessed as you mon petite." He pats his chest and lack of assets with a hint of a pout.
Finally catching the waitress's eye, Heather gestures to the plate in silent request for a box. She looks between Diamond and Topper, and she can't help it — she starts to giggle. There's a wink at Diamond. "Honey, the rack isn't everything… though I admit it gets you places sometimes." She takes her lunch in the box and moves to slide out of her seat. "I'll leave the two of you to play," she tells Diamond graciously. "He looks like he needs to get laid in the worst way. It'll take his mind off the crazy talk." And she slips out of the diner.
Topper moves to slip an arm around Diamond's waist and roll his eyes a bit. "She thinks I'm crazy because I'm worried about unresolved murders in the city, that apparently used toxins.." he says, gently resting his chin on Diamond's shoulder with a slightly arrogant grin, before moving to gently kiss the ..prostitute's neck, softly biting against the flesh.
Diamond waggles fingers to Heather as she makes her exit and he chuckles softly to himself for some reason before he looks over his shoulder at Topper. "…overdoses?" He suggests before starts to slip to the side in his effort to slide out of the man's lap after the kiss/bite to his neck and a quick little shiver/shudder as he takes a deep breath. "Have you a name stranger?"
Nash won't stop Diamond from moving away, he knows better then to do that. "I'm Topper Nash." he says, deciding to let the whole discussion of drugs and toxins drop, probably better if he does, least he scare off such eyecandy.
Diamond hmms softly to himself. "Topper…is that a preference or alias or did your maman really give you such a name…" A small smile as he adjusts himself more comfortably in the booth beside Topper. He gestures for a waitress as he orders something deep fried along with a milkshake and he turns his attention back to Topper.
Topper shakes his head a bit at Diamond's question. "That is my actual name, Topper Nash, I'm not joking. Most people just call me Nash if you'd prefer that Miss Hustler." he says teasingly towards Diamond. "I run a club here in Vegas, but you don't seem to be after me specifically.. was I just a random mark?" he asks.
"Is Diamond honey…" Diamond purrs. "And I do not hustle…it just seemed things were getting more heated up, hm? Didn't want to see anyting…mysteriously happen to either of you because you know not the time or place to discuss such things." He shrugs a shoulder.
Nash cants his head a bit, as if evaluating the truthfullness of Diamond's statement. "Ah, so it wasn't because you decided I was an attractive man who could use such exotic company such as your self?" he teases quietly, uncaring if people stare, this is Vegas baby!
Diamond purses his lips before draping an arm along the back of the booth and he arches an eyebrow, eyeing Nash with a critical eye and he's just quiet, waiting for his milkshake to arrive and he still stays quiet, watching Nash as if contemplating something. "Oh honey, do those type of lines actually work in a sinful lil' town like the Las Vegas? Really?" A small smile.
Nash rolls his shoulders when Diamond asks that question. "I wouldn't know, I've only recently moved here, I didn't have much chance to talk with people outside of combat zones until recently. Now I'm officially a retired soldier and I'm supposed to find some cute eye candy to settle down with."
"Ahh, new to town…mm, well was that why you were talking to the cutie with the bootie who left?" Diamond has to ask, taking a sip from his drink and idly licking his lips as he considers his current situation. "Soldier, this means you have traveled much non? How many hearts of broken have you left behind then…you objected not to mon impromptu lap dance and I hadn't even started to wiggle around…"
Nash makes a dismissive wave with his fingers at the question. "Not as many as you'd think, the US Military has some strict policies against carrying on with locals, and as of late, most nationalities encountered in the middle east, still are predisposed to being Islamic, and thereby, not prone to flirting with us heathens." He explains, and is likely lying about the topic, what soldier doesn't?
*Rest to come from someone else in scene*
