Silently praying his phone will stay quiet for the night, Terry steps into the Easy Times bar taking a look around. It's been a while since he's been here, the last time being his sophomore year. Not much has changed since then; it's still dark and smoky with music blaring from speakers, and college students of every age gathered around tables and booths, talking and laughing the night away.
He squeezes through the crowd and takes a seat at an available stool at the bar. He finds Jazz on the other end, her long hair tied up in a pony tail but bangs still swept over her eyes; she's wearing dark, tight clothes that don't seem to fit her laidback style, but he figures it's to help fill her tip jar. He watches her pour a finished drink into a martini glass and slide it towards the customer before collecting payment. As she rings up the order, she looks over in Terry's direction and smiles when he waves a hand. Finishing the transaction and stuffing her tip in the appropriate jar, she walks over to meet him.
"What can I get you?" She asks leaning on the counter.
"Thought you knew my drink."
"Nu-uh. You're experimenting tonight," she replies with confidence that surprises him. After her nervous display earlier that week, he didn't expect her to be so loose tonight, but he isn't disappointed.
"I am?" he asks with a smile.
"You're in my bar now, so yeah, you are."
"Then I'll give you the chance to pick."
Nodding with satisfaction, she bends over to grab a bottle of tequila and a shot glass from under the bar. "Ever done a shot?"
"Yeah," he replies watching her poor the liquor into the tiny glass. She sets a lime wedge beside it and asks for Terry's hand to sprinkle some salt on the side of his fist. "You're not having one?"
"I'm not a tequila kind of girl."
"Weren't you the one making a big deal about experimenting?" Terry challenges making her smile.
"Fine," she gives in, pouring herself a shot and raising it. "To experimenting."
Smiling, Tarry raises his glass before they both lick the salt off their hands, down the shot, and bite into the lime wedge.
"Wow," Terry coughs making her giggle. "Forgot how strong those were."
Bending over again, she pulls out two frosty coronas from a cooler setting them in front of him. Using the bottle opener tucked in her arm band, she quickly pulls the caps off, shoves a lime wedge in each, and hands one to Terry.
"Gimme a sec," she says as she walks away to meet the other bartender who just walked behind the bar.
Taking a swig of his drink, Terry takes the opportunity to really study Jazz's frame wondering how she became so built. He remembers the other night and the strength she had used when she pinned that runner down. He wasn't an easy opponent to take down, yet she did it almost effortlessly. He's hoping that getting to know her better will shed light on her extracurricular activities. Finishing her discussion with her coworker, Jazz comes around the bar and takes a seat beside him.
"So," she smiles at him taking her bottle in hand. "How's your night so far?"
"Unexpected," he starts, causing her brow to raise. "In a good way."
"What I want to hear," she praises as she pulls off the armband that holds the necessary bar tools and sets it behind the counter.
"What about you?"
"Me?" She nods to her full tip jar. "My night's fantastic," she grins.
"Saving up for something?"
"Yeah; a new place to live," she replies taking a long swig of her beer.
"Lease up or something?"
"Big something. My old place was scorched during what Gothamites like to call collateral damage."
"Batman?" Terry asks feigning surprise. "Like the Batman?"
"Partially his doing, yes, but I didn't know that till after the fact. I never saw him on the scene."
"Pity."
"Yeah, pity," she absently repeats before changing the subject; but Terry notes her choice to protect what she knows even when he tries fishing for the information. She's loyal. "So who exactly do you assist?"
"Bruce Wayne," is the short reply making her eyes widen with realization.
"You're the guy from the news last month, Terry McGinnis. I knew I saw you somewhere. Why didn't you say so?"
Terry shrugs. "Not my place to advertise that."
"So what's he like?"
"I'd rather not talk about him," he replies before finishing his bottle.
"Oh, yeah sure, I get it," she says backing off. "No problem. You want another beer?"
"Uh, no, I'm good for now. When do you get off?"
"I've been off the last twenty minutes, why?"
"Feel like getting out of here?"
She eyes him suspiciously before laughing and shaking her head. "Oh, no, I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, but I'm not another floozy idiot."
"Woah, hey, what are we talking about here?" Terry asks surprised by her reaction. "I just thought it's a little too crowded in here, so I wanted to go on an innocent walk."
Jazz looks away blushing with embarrassment. "Wow, talk about awkward moments."
Terry smiles at her. "Don't worry about it; goes to show how careful you are. It's a good thing."
"Still, you're obviously a nice guy; I shouldn't have made the assumption."
He shrugs. "It happens. So what do you say?"
"Let me get my stuff," she replies getting up. "Hey," she suddenly calls out when Terry pulls out his wallet. "Tonight's on me," she smiles.
"You sure?"
"Tip jar speaks for itself."
After collecting her share of the night's profits as well as her jacket and bag, she lets Terry lead the way out and down the busy streets heading to the park close by.
"So I know where you work and what you're studying," Terry starts as they leisurely stroll side-by-side along the pond's shoreline, "but not much else."
"What else is there to know?" She asks, letting her wavy hair down while fluffing her bangs.
"Likes, dislikes, hobbies, things that make people normal."
"I'm sensing you're fishing for something specific," she says eyeing him suspiciously.
Noting her sharp insights, he goes along with the charade. "Just trying to get to know you better."
"Sorry, don't buy it," she says stopping to face him. "Spill."
Sheepishly grinning, Terry rubs the back of his neck. "I noticed you're in pretty good shape. I was just wondering if you were a runner; we could partner up sometime tomorrow and do a couple laps around the track."
"Yeah I run, among other things," Jazz replies still studying his face. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"
"Trying to be subtle."
"You want to know something about me? I don't like subtle. It makes people unnecessarily complicated."
"And I take it you've dealt with a lot of complicated people before?"
"You're pretty nosy for a guy," she jokes falling back into step beside him. "Yeah, I know a list of people, but who doesn't?"
"Most people don't get irked to the point of avoidance."
"I don't avoid anyone. I just don't get the whole idea of pussy-footing around the truth. You want to know something, ask it; been asked something, answer it. Simple and straightforward."
Terry eyes her curiously; her outspoken and individualistic mind causes a sense of familiarity to resonate through him. She reminds him of someone he hasn't seen in a very long time, but he quickly pushes the thought away convincing himself that Jazz and Melanie are nothing alike.
"That's kind of ignorant to say," he says looking ahead.
"Cause it's simplistic? And what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing if the world's population just included you. So what happened?"
"What'd you mean?" She asks raising a brow at him. She didn't expect him to be so insightful.
"Something must have happened to make you think that, something significant I'm guessing. So what is it?" She narrows her eyes at him while remaining quiet, so Terry takes the liberty to fill in the blank. "Maybe you were forced to live a life of secrecy? One you didn't like?" He asks, suddenly thinking of Melanie again. Her eyes suddenly harden into a glare he didn't think she could muster. "Did I hit a nerve?"
"No," she lies faking a smile. "You're pretty gutsy, McGinnis. Not a lot of people confront me like that."
"What can I say, I'm a rebel," Terry shrugs. "So?"
"Since you're trying to be so clever, I'll let you figure it out on your own," she replies lightening up again.
"You might regret that."
"Only if you hit the nail on the head."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Terry replies before his phone suddenly goes off. Looking at the screen, he finds Bruce to be the caller. Cursing under his breath, he turns his attention back to Jazz. "Listen, I have to go, but about tomorrow…?"
"Tell you what," she replies taking a pen out of the bag. "Give me a call," she continues, writing her number on the palm of his hand, "and I'll see you when I see you."
"Don't like setting plans?"
"No, 'cause you can't break plans if you don't make them."
"You hate letting people down," he guesses.
"Keep it up, McGinnis, and you might figure me out by the end of the week."
He grins at her. "I can walk you home if you like," he offers when his phone goes off again.
"Doesn't sound like you have the time," she replies nodding at the phone.
"You sure?"
"Don't waste chivalry on me. It's not the first time I've been out in Gotham at night."
Although still hesitant, he nods once before heading to the nearest subway stop, turning once to check on Jazz one last time before disappearing into the station. With a sigh, she starts making her way back to her apartment as she reminisces about the night. Terry seems like such an inquisitive man, asking questions that were beginning to hit close to home. Although she had placed his face to the nightly news, it isn't why she sensed familiarity around him. It was his eyes that got her; something about the way he looked at her made her feel like they were already friends.
Before she could dissect the issue further, the faint sounds of footsteps following her grab her attention. She stops and turns around checking her surroundings but finds her self alone surrounded by silence. She can feel a presence watching her from somewhere in the shadows. Keeping her guard up, she continues walking down the sidewalk. When she turns the corner though, she finds herself staring at the barrel of a gun held by a grinning Joker dressed in a white and red clown suit.
"Evening, sweet cheeks," he leers making her scowl. "You know the drill."
"Screw off," she snaps refusing to budge.
"That's the plan, honey. In there, now," he orders as he reaches a hand out grabbing her by the neck.
What he doesn't see coming, though, is the speed with which she disarms him. She grabs his gun-wielding wrist and painfully bends it until he drops the weapon. She then knees him in the gut making him release his hold on her neck before a powerful punch lands on his jaw leaving him sprawled on the ground writhing in pain. Straightening her jacket, she steps over him, picks up the gun and expertly dismantles it before returning to her walk unaffected by the incident she's leaving behind.
-continued-