5. Ed Dillinger Jr. – November 18, 2009

"This suit is killing me," Eva turned away from her reflection in the surface of the elevator to regard her boyfriend.

Jethro stood behind her with his arms crossed, a frown on his face. He looked fine, all things considered. His usual unruly hair was smoothed down, offset by a clean shaven face (for once). He wore a pair of brown, thin-framed glasses instead of the usual thick black trim. Stepping forward, she pulled his arms apart and tugged at the sleeves. The suit relaxed around his arms and chest nicely, there wasn't a hint overtaxing anywhere in the seams. "What's the problem? Doesn't it fit?"

"What?" It took Jet a minute to catch on to what she meant. By the time her hands were tugging at back end of the dinner jacket, he reached behind him and freed her hands from the fabric. "No, yeah, the suit fits fine –"

"It should, I paid enough for it," She squeezed his arms. "I never thought there'd be a day I wished for a skinny boyfriend."

"I just meant – suits aren't my thing," Jet clarified.

"They should be, you look nice in them," Eva grinned, placing her hands on his waist. "A veritable god among men." Jet rolled his eyes, appreciating the way her eyes wandered his body.

"I wouldn't look half as good without your advice," He shrugged, trying hard not to touch his hair. "Your dress looks nice." Eva wore flowing black strapless dress that split on the left side, exposing her pale leg. The only color that off-set it was the striking red lipstick and goldilocks blonde she dyed her ginger hair.

He was already missing her red locks, thinking blonde washed her out just a tad much – but he wasn't about get himself in trouble. Eva twirled once, her hair fanning out around her moreso than her dress. "Thank you, lover," Jet raised an eyebrow at his nickname spoken in English. She'd had only just started calling him "lover", but it always been in French ("amant" or "amoureux", one of the two phrases), so the plainspeak was a bit jarring – maybe because of how stark and dispassionate "lover" sounded.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a warmly lit space, wide and circular, dripping in brown and gold light. Jet let out a low whistle. "Swanky," He said, earning a laugh from Eva. Hooking her arm around his, she led him toward the winding stairs, flashing smiles to those who walked past them. "Your parents never took to parties like this?"

"God, no," Jet shot her a somewhat astonished look. "I hate to tell you this, Eva, but my parents aren't Thomas and Martha Wayne. Even with the money they made at ENCOM, most of the company parties never left the building." He gestured to himself dramatically with the arm hooked around hers, prompting Eva to grab his hand. "Or dressed above their paygrade."

"Does my having money bother you?" Eva asked.

It did. After meeting his parents, Eva was adamant that he meet her mother and father. She was feeling brave after how well things went with Lora and Alan, and it was then he never really considered Eva beyond the person she was with him. He never saw her at work, he never saw her with her friends. They always met at his apartment and they were never going places where Eva knew anyone. Not unusual, right?

Eva arranged a meeting at one of their high end art galleries, Popoff Suites. Guillaume and Marion Popoff were self-made millionaires in love with post-modern art. He was rather blown away by the shift in dynamic. Eva seemed smaller, less confident in the presence of her parents, who were content to be just cordial with him. Marion, a mirror image of Eva (if not a bit more scarecrow-ish), always had her arm around her daughter, keeping her at a perpetual distance from him. Guillaume made it very clear their want to see their daughter succeed as they had. As well as marry well enough that no upheaval would leave her stranded and poor in the United States.

For lack of a better word, they were not necessarily impressed by the guy who he made video games for a living and admitted to so like he achieved something. Eva seemed determined to replicate that same 'magic' that happened with his parents. He didn't leave her hanging, doing his best to just be himself and answer their questions about his job as best he could without breaking his NDA contracts.

By the end of the night, Eva's face looked ready to break from smiling, but she wished her parents well like they didn't just call out for dating beneath her. He sat in her car, feeling like he'd gone through a shredder and was only just starting to tape himself together. They didn't like him, so he didn't like them, and suddenly he was wishing he wasn't so avoidant of his parents.

That was barely a week ago. It bothered him that she was wealthy young woman who appeared to be slumming it with a middle class boy, but, he had to keep reminding himself that Eva wasn't her parents.

"No, of course not," He lied. "But, I come from different background. I'm way better off than most people, but I feel like a fraud sometimes when we do things like this," He admitted.

Eva intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed. "You shouldn't. You're far more genuine than most people I know. Speaking of which – oh, Edward!" There was a smile on Jet's face, his stomach was twisting itself in knots. Standing across from them, Ed Dillinger Jr. stood between two men he didn't recognize but were waving Eva and himself over nonetheless. His hand in hers, Jet had little choice but to follow her over. Edward seemed to size him up over the top of his small-framed glasses. Jet returned the gesture in kind, irritated.

By their nature, Jet and Edward were reflections of their parent's actions. Edward had more of a reason to hate everyone involved in the circumstances that led his father's firing from ENCOM and subsequent arrest, Edward Sr. included. He was ten years old when it happened, Jet was barely a work-in-progress (and accident to boot, though his mother resented he considered himself so), and could hardly be held accountable for his parent's soft-anti-corporate stance against Edward Sr. and the plagiarism committed against Kevin Flynn.

Sam's reasoning for disliking or even hating Edward was more or less aligned with their parent's mistrust of the elder Dillinger. Ed Jr. was actively working alongside Richard Mackey, probably in a position his father (probably) earned for him, and undermining not only his father, but Sam's as well. Both Sam and Alan labored under the belief that Edward Jr. needed to "redeem" and "earn" his place in ENCOM for mere association with Future Control Industries, Mackey, and his own father. It was a bit stupid when Jet thought about it.

Out of everyone in his family, Jet felt the least connected to company conflict. He was angrier at his father for choosing to return to ENCOM out of some misguided loyalty to Flynn, when it was clear he was neither wanted nor respected. He couldn't begrudge Mackey for taking the opportunity to exploit Alan… not entirely, when his father put himself in that position. He had even less of a reason to dislike Edward Jr., who – much like him – was just trying to earn a living in their preferred industry.

Eva unhooked herself from Jet and embraced Edward, topping her affections off with a few well-placed air kisses that spared her lipstick of any smudge. She repeated the motion once with the man on his left – tall, broad shouldered, with fine brown hair that dreaded at the top and faded below – and shook the hand of the other on his right – shorter than Edward, bowl cut, and sported high cheekbones.

"Evan, I didn't think you'd come," Edward smiled.

"I told you I would," She said. "And, I brought my plus one."

"Ah, yes, you must be the esteemed Mr. Bradley. I'm Seth Crown," Seth extended his hand and Jet did him the kindness of shaking it. "Just call me Jet, most people do," He said, avoiding any reference to his father being the defacto 'Mr. Bradley'.

"Of course, of course," Seth withdrew his hand, returning it to his pocket like he touched something unseemly. He nodded to the man with the bowl cut. "This is my colleague, Esmond Baza. One of the brightest minds out of Delhi's tech industry," Esmond nodded to Jet but did not extend his hand for a shake. Which was fine with Jet, someone was bound to break protocol sooner or later.

"Charmed to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bradley," He said. "We've heard absolutely nothing about you."

Eva rolled her eyes, but Jet took the jab in stride. "Likewise, I guess."

"Yes, Eva has a habit of keeping her social circles separate," Seth said. "I assume you know Edward Dillinger?"

Jet focused on Edward. The man raised an eyebrow as if asking him to challenge the notion set forth by Seth. "Uh… not personally, no."

"Mr. Bradley and I know of each other, of course, but we're not what you'd call friends," Edward Jr. replied.

"I see," Seth said. "A shame."

"Indeed," Baza said. "You two seem like you'd be quite the pair."

"Well, it's like you said, different social circles," Jet said. "I'm going to get a drink. You want anything?"

"Chardonnay, if they have any," Eva said sweetly. Jet excused himself from the group and moved through the crowd of strangers. Approaching the bar, he raised two fingers to the bar tender, who was servicing another party goer. He turned his back to the bar, resting his elbows on the counter.

Faces all around burred into each other in a sea of black and white, he wasn't paying attention. He'd been feeling antsy, and sex wasn't going to scratch the restlessness that was creeping up on him, so Eva invited him out to some shindig her parents weren't able to go to, but wanted to be represented at in some capacity. The effort to look the part was exhausting, but at least he wasn't sitting at his desk staring at blank piece of sketchbook paper waiting for lightning to strike. He could think of worse things than being Eva's arm candy for one night.

"So, what is it that you do, exactly, Mr. Bradley?" Jet saw, but didn't necessarily pay attention to, Edward Jr. coming out of the crowd with a half-full glass of cinnamon colored bubbly in one hand, and his left hand in his pants pocket. It took a moment longer for the words to register in his head. Rolling his shoulders, Jet answered. "I'm a developer at Elfwood Studios. Maybe you've heard of 'em?"

"The name does sound vaguely familiar," Edward Jr. said. "I'll have two chardonnays, please. What are you having, Mr. Bradley?"

"Please, call me Jet. And, I'm not having anything. I'm the designated driver tonight."

"Of course, Jet. You were saying?"

"What was I saying?"

"About your job?"

"Um, I'm a concept artist, mostly. I design environments, sometimes, but character designs are why they hired me." In the corner of his eye he watched Edward Jr. take his once half-full flute glasses from the counter and turn to face him. "I'm a pretty good programmer too, all things considered."

"But, you prefer illustration?"

"I enjoy both for different reasons, but there's nothing quite like putting pencil to sketchbook," Jet grinned. "What about you, Mr. Dillinger? Anything in particular you enjoy about working at ENCOM?"

"Hmmm, the money's good, I make my own hours, and I supervise the software division," Edward Jr. replied. "And, please, call me Edward. Mr. Dillinger is my father, as I suspect Mr. Bradley is yours."

Jet laughed. "Yeah, I was trying to avoid that."

"It's fine. What's a little bad blood between perfect strangers?"

"Awkwardly paced conversation, apparently," Jet said. "And I'm guessing all of this is working up to why I'm not working ENCOM? Everybody asks me eventually."

"I honestly couldn't care less why you're not working for our company –"

Okay, ouch.

" –but, I suspect it's for the same reasons I'm not working – explicitly – for Future Control Industries. Our fathers asked, maybe pulled strings to get us where they wanted us."

"You're not far off," Jet couldn't help smiling. "My dad tried to get me a Level 6 position in the games division of ENCOM. I turned it down, went to work for Elfwood Studios instead."

"I'm sure they pay significantly less than what that position would've given you."

"They're an independent studio, so, you're absolutely right. But, it was something I wanted, and my father hated. So, naturally, I made a jump for it," Jet said. "And I don't regret it. Why'd you join ENCOM?"

"I interned there in 2000, applied for a job in 2003 when another option fell through. Mackey and the board were happy to have me. My father, on the other hand, would've preferred that I worked under him. Not that it matters now."

Jet felt his brow wrinkle. "Why – why doesn't it matter?"

"There you are!" Jet and Edward jumped. Eva emerged from the crowd, blonde hair framing her face like Jessica Rabbit. Edward nodded in her direction, reached over and picked up the untouched wine glass from the counter. Eva walked up to Jet and kissed him long enough to leave a red impression on his lips. Taking the glass from Edward, Eva said, "For a moment I thought you left me."

He brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Now, why would I do that?" The combination of words reminded him of the conversation he was having. He turned to Edward, but he was already moving away from the bar. "Um, nice talking ya, Edward," Jet called after him. Edward offered nothing but a two-fingered wave before getting lost in the crowd. Eva already had her arm wrapped around his waist, so there was no going after him.

"What were you two talking about?" She asked, pushing him away from the bar.

"Oh, y'know, the usual," He sighed dramatically.

"Daddy issues?"

"Work mostly, but, yeah, we might've mentioned our fathers," Jet said.

"Such a pair of sad boys," Eva chuckled, kneading his waist.

"Hey, do you know if there's anything going on between FCon and ENCOM?"

Eva's head moved so that her profile was hidden by her hair, but the perks of being taller your girlfriend was that she wasn't completely obscured from sight. Eva's expression was dubiously blank, her lips pouted. She was pretending to think about the question. "I might've heard something about an attempted liaison, but I don't think anything's going to come of it."

"You'd tell me if there was?"

"I don't know, what's in it for me?"

"My undying gratitude?" Eva fixed him a look. "And I'll drop the issue."

"In that case, yes, I'd tell you," Eva reassured him. "But, like I said, I don't think anything is going to happen."

"In this economy, you never know," Jet grumbled, eliciting a half-gurgled giggle from his girlfriend who'd chosen then to take a sip of her wine.

He watched with unguarded amusement as her drink dribbled down her chin and down onto her collar. He stopped them and tried to use his sleeve to dab her dry, but she grabbed his hand and repositioned it so that it was resting on her waist. "Oh, Jethro, your undying optimism is what I love about talking to you," She coughed. "You made me spill my drink."

"I can clean it up for you," He said suggestively.

She shoved him playfully. "Maybe later," Eva pulled him along. "I want you to get to know my friends."

FIN.

Author's Note: No, the numbering isn't an error. This is the fifth story, while the Sam Flynn entry is the sixth and "One Time" of the narrative, but chronologically this came latter so that's the order the chapters are organized.