Text -|- un: nunya
Looking for work.
Previous Experience: phone operator, temporary office assistant, fast food worker, college bartender, sandwich board holder, private investigator, professional asshole.
Skills: owns own camera, capable of tolerating other assholes, not too up my own ass to do dirty work.
Special Skills: Specifics given upon request if I damn well feel like it.
Contact with offers. Anything related to strip clubs will result in learning how quickly I can track you down and hurt you with my special skills.
Previous Experience: phone operator, temporary office assistant, fast food worker, college bartender, sandwich board holder, private investigator, professional asshole.
Skills: owns own camera, capable of tolerating other assholes, not too up my own ass to do dirty work.
Special Skills: Specifics given upon request if I damn well feel like it.
Contact with offers. Anything related to strip clubs will result in learning how quickly I can track you down and hurt you with my special skills.
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Don't suppose you've got any suggestions.
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Other than that, not really. I had my future picked out for me as soon as I was born.
[ For better or for worse. ]
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Sucks to be you.
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Unless you've got some great back-up plan you haven't shared with the rest of us.
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[Plan? Jessica Jones didn't need no stinking plan.]
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If you're planning on leaving, why bother finding work?
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Almost. Not quite. I like slow bars, but drinking alone in a completely empty bar is a bit too pathetic, even for me.
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[ She's got nothing better to do, though she'll back off if she's not wanted. ]
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Wouldn't say I need it, but there's plenty of seats if you're up for a drink.
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[ To drown one's sorrows in, to celebrate, or just to knock one back and relax. She's drank to all three and now's no different. ]
I'm guessing you'll be the one alone at the bar?
[ Just for reference. ]
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[ Not that she should, but if the guy's gonna drink himself into a stupor, might as well see what interesting things are in his pocket.
The bar itself isn't too hard to find, and it's easy to slip inside and peer around. Only a few of the booths are filled, most with more than a single person, but she thinks she's got an eye on her mysterious friend.
Just in case, she sidles up to the booth but doesn't sit down. ]
Don't need a job application to sit here, do I?
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[She'd take beer if she needed it. She tried not to become a full-scale thief.
But a woman came up to the booth, seeming to glance over at her before she spoke. The question had Jessica leaning back in her seat, looking up and then giving a half-shrug.]
Application, no, but a heavy tolerance for my inability to give a shit, sure.
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Enough of these, and I'm sure I won't care.
[ Nothing a little (or a lot) of alcohol can't solve. She slides into the seat across, takes a drink out of her mug. ]
Still looking for work?
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[Or, for all she knew, she was just going to be stuck doing odd-jobs. Forever. Wonderful.]
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That hard to get your dream job around here?
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You fight?
[ She's got the attitude for it, for sure. ]
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[Everyone. Knew. Kung. Fu. Goddammit...]
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If you're good enough to profit off it, who cares what style you use.
[ In the meantime, since she's curious: ]
There really that many flippy ninjas around?
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