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[Fiction] Hush


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Irini sat on a doorstep, listening to the sound of a police siren in the distance punctuated by the nearer staccato of gunfire. New York City was as rough as her native city of Moscow, possibly even worse, but she felt safe here. With so many novas around, surely one more would not be noticed.

She looked up at the night sky, noting the passing shadow of a flying nova. Perhaps it was some Elite on business; she didn't know. But she wished she could join him or her in the sky. But that would not be very wise.

If she was smarter, she would go to the Manhattan Rashoud clinic. If she was wiser, she would see Utopia about employment. If she was greedier, than she would go to DeVries. If she was patriotic, then she would be part of the Directive. But she was none of that, or so she felt. She was just a prostitute who could float things and herself.

She had learnt to quickly draw in her powers so she wouldn't be noticed by anyone from the Zukhov Syndicate - a large appetite and star-filled eyes tended to be easily noticeable, especially from a prostitute who had been known for being almost anorexic and blue-eyed. It was a pity, because she was tougher as a nova, and able to go without food or sleep for much longer.

She had taken a gamble today on the OpNet. She had asked for work. There had to be someone out there who could help her. If her powers didn't do the trick, maybe sleeping with them would. God knew she didn't have anything else to offer them besides her abilities.

With a sigh, she stood up. Time to make a living again. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and sauntered down the street, ignoring the cold that snaked down her bare legs with the ease of practice from living in snowier, colder Moscow.

{{OOC: Jump in if you want. If not, I'm sure I could find plenty of things to do. smile }}

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She was having no luck tonight. The police were cracking down on something, so possible customers weren't out and about on the streets. Irini buttoned up her blouse and slipped her way through alleys and side-streets until she came to a slightly better part of the city. There were other prostitutes here, of course, but Irini doubted any of them could match her looks, even with her powers shut down.

She unbuttoned her blouse again and found a convenient corner to stand on, giving smiling invitations to every man that passed her. Hopefully she'd have better luck here.

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"You look better with the buttons up," quips Jager. He seems to glide down from his perch on top of a garbage bin, making remarkably little noise.

Jager is medium height (around 185cm), and medium build. His hair is a very fair blonde, and his eyes are a clear, glacier-blue. His complexion is lightly tanned and smooth. Though, not spectacular, he is definitely a nova. The quiet aura, the supernatural grace, and the near perfect poise give it away.

"Hi, I'm Jason. So, what brings you to this pale shade of Paradise?"

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Irini spins around, hair whipping around her face. "Have to make living," she replies, trying to keep her voice even. She keeps the blouse unbuttoned and regards the blonde stranger intently. "Are you looking for good time, Mister Jason?"

She is a slender woman of medium height, clad in a low-cut pink blouse and short black skirt, strappy black high heels on her feet. Her straight hair is long and dark, while her eyes are a faded blue and her skin is pale. Quite attractive by baseline standards, her features are fine-boned and exotic, a slight bend in her nose revealing some long-healed break.

She studies Jager for a long time. As she takes in the poise, aura and grace, her eyes widen. For a moment, they flicker between an ordinary blue and a field of black that covers white and iris, sprinkled with stars like the night sky before they return to their normal hue.

Around her, objects begin to rise of their own accord before dropping to the ground. She clenches her fists, sweat breaking across her brow as she watches Jager fearfully, having just accidently revealed her abilities.

"I am Irini," she finally says, her Russian accent thickening.

Please do not hurt me! she thinks silently.

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Jager will study Irini, and note the objects moving around.

{{Gravitic Manipulation, TK, or what?}}

"For starters, how much for your time? For your time, that is. You're a working girl, after all."

Jager will keep his distance, being careful to not invade her space. His demeanor isn't one of nervousness, or lust. He appears to be utterly calm and confident.

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{{Gravity Manipulation}}

"Umm, twenty dollars an hour," Irini replies, seeking refuge in her profession. "Anything goes."

She shifts awkwardly before assuming a seductive expression. "Where you want to go, Mister Jason Nova?"

Maybe he didn't notice. Maybe I will be alright. I need customers and can't turn one down, even if he is a nova, she thinks, trying not to act nervous.

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At the mention of the price, Jager chuckles and shakes his head.

"Mr. Jason Nova, eh?"

"Okay. Jason is my Christian name, but you may know me better by my nova handle, but that's not really important right now."

Jager pulls out a roll of bills from his pocket (that wasn't there a moment ago?) and pulls off ten $100 dollar bills. He hands them to Irini.

"A thousand should buy me a little of your time. About two days worth."

{{If Irini takes the money ...}}

Jager will offer his arm to Irini, then offer to take her down to a local dinner. If asked,

"No rush. It seems we have plenty of time."

As they walk,

"For starters, in New York City, if you're charging $20 dollars (US), people are going to assume you are an undercover cop, or that you have some incurable disease. A woman with your natural beauty and poise should charge minimuim of $200. I a better part of town, you could do much, much better than that."

"Also, operating alone like you are, you should be more careful about whose territory you're staking out for your own. I wasn't sure how long the local girls would leave you alone. I assume they thought you were a cop. Lucky you."

"As for the rest, let's start off with a nice bit of chat and some coffee. We can see were things go from there. Good for you?"

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Irini nods slowly and accepts the money, tucking it into her bra for safe-keeping. She accepts his arm somewhat timidly, having little choice as she was in such dire straits at the moment.

"I am new here," she confesses as they head to the diner. "New to America. Don't know rules here."

The dark-haired prostitute sighs. "Better to work alone. In Moscow, had a 'pimp', as you Americans call them. He beat me and take my money. I do not want that again."

She shakes her head at the mention of the better part of town. "Too noticeable. My English is not good and I sometimes lose control..." Her rosebud mouth purses and she falls silent as they come to the diner.

She had almost revealed herself again to this nova man with his perfect grace and useful advice. What did he want with her? But a deal was a deal, and she wasn't going to break this one.

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As they head down the street,

"Is Muchas Mocha okay with you? Its a new place opening up not too far from here. It promises coffee strong enough to wake the dead, and good enough to not make you miss heaven."

He holds the door for her to go inside. As she passes him, Jager whispers,

"If you have a control problem in here, squeeze my hand. I can handle it. We'll be just fine."

His voice is calm and reassuring.

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Irini nods slowly as she enters the cafe, desperately wanting someone to trust, to make the decisions for her, but frightened of being taken advantage of.

They sit down and Irini hurriedly buttons up her blouse before the waitress can come around. Even so, her shabby and provocative clothing stick out like a sore thumb in this trendy chrome-and-steel place with its fashionably dressed novas and nova groupies, yuppies and other wannabes of all types.

The sight of the other novas in here, free as birds to flaunt their difference, fills her with envy. Why couldn't she be allowed to show the world her powers, to revel in the fame and fortune of novahood?

Because you are a whore and always will be, her conscience cruelly reminded her. You are not even a good one. All you do is float stuff, nothing special.

She stopped herself from making a whimper of protest as the waitress came up. In a flat, hopeless voice she asked for black coffee with no sugar. Let her beverage reflect the bitterness of her heart.

Irini waited for Jason to order his coffee, keeping such a tight control on the power contained within that she all but trembled with the effort.

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Jager keeps himself attuned to his partner's distress, but lets her work her way through it as best she can.

When the waitress comes, he orders a Double Overdrive with cream. He seems to be a bit disappointed in either Irini's choice of beverage, or her tone.

With some firmness,

"Irini, give me your hand."

{{If she does so ...}}

Jager takes the hand and starts tracing out the bone structure on it ... once, then twice.

Then, he gently rolls the hand over and begins tracing lazy cirlces on her palm. The circles take an a hypnotic, relaxing effect ((if she lets them}}. All the while he is doing this, Jager is looking down at the hand, a calm, soothing look upon his face. Irini feels an odd tingling going down her arm, through her chest and into her head.

{{PM to Irini}}

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Irini slowly calms down under Jason's touch, but lines of tension still remain around her eyes. When the coffee comes, she drinks about half of it without wincing and waits silently for him to speak first. It was his right. He had bought her for these two days.

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Jager signs inwardly and looks deep into Irini's eyes.

"Some ground rules, okay?"

{{unless she protests ...}}

"I am as good as my word. I lie, upon occasion, but only when I feel it is necessary to protect lives. I expect honesty in return. If you lie to me, and I find out about it, you had better have a good reason."

"Next, I like whores. I think whoring is noble profession, and a dangerous one for others to cross. I also get the feeling that you don't like the word, or this line of work. If you don't want to be a whore anymore, that's fine. I will take the monetary hit and we can part ways."

{{providing Irini doesn't leave ... }}

"Back to me liking whores. Whores can be the most honest, forthright, and brave people you will ever meet. Few successful ones have any pretensions about the way the world works. It doesn't mean they are burned out or without hopes and dreams, but I take it to mean that they understand the give and take of the world ... both in business and relationships."

"Now, I've been a whore myself. The first time, I was humiliated and depressed. Then, another whore took me under their wing and taught me some things. For one, the power to control the situation can be yours. There is alot more demand, than there are people willing to fullfill it. Next, if you don't want to understand people and get to know there desires and weaknesses, get out."

"In my time, I've been a whore, a cop, a mercenary, an assassin, a terrorist, a guardian, and a savior. You can make yourself into anything you want to be. Do you get it?"

Jager is pretty intense as he discusses this.

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Irini nods slowly as she meets Jason's eyes.

"Da, I think so. Deal is deal, in Russia as well as America. You pay me, I will keep my end. Call it honour."

The Russian prostitute takes a deep, calming breath. "Never done a nova, do not know what to expect. That is part of my reasons. The rest are my own."

She regards him squarely. "In my work, I try to be honest. I will tell you no lies, but do not expect me to tell my life story. That is my own as well."

Irini looks down at her coffee. "I do this work because I know no other. American men are better than Russian ones most of the time, so it is better here. But I am no slut. In Russia, sex is like anything else - it can be bought and sold."

The revelation that he had been a prostitute himself slowly sank in. She regards him silently, her eyes wide as they flicker back to starry night-black, and she squeezes his hand for all it's worth.

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"In my work, I try to be honest. I will tell you no lies, but do not expect me to tell my life story. That is my own as well."

Jager raises an eyebrow, but lets Irini continue. He smiles as Irini expressions compassion, but he shakes his head.

"There is nothing for me to be ashamed of, Irini. It was a life lesson. I learned from it and become stronger. Is that a bad thing?"

"As for your life story, didn't you say, I a voice eerie like Irini's own,

"Umm, twenty dollars an hour. Anything goes."

"You need to be careful with what you say. Some people might read anything to mean, well, anything."

Jager smiles, but there is some steel to that smile. Then, he smiles.

"You seem uncomfortable in those clothes. Let's go somewhere."

Jager stands, pays for the coffees, and moves around the table to Irini. He offers her his hand.

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Irini stands and takes Jason's hand, allowing the blond nova to lead her away. She remains undormed but keeps her eyes down so no one will notice them. For a change her powers decide to behave, so nothing starts to float... yet.

"Where are we going?" she asks, daring a question.

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"See? You are already taking control of your situation."

On the phone,


"Hey, Joshua. This is Breckenridge. I need some time in about ... say ... 20 minutes?"

"Good. No, its for a friend. Thanks."

Jager will look at Irini.

"Taxi, or do you want to hoof it?"

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"Well, I guess you shouldn't have to walk, then."

Jager sweeps an arm around Irini's waist and kisses her.

He looks across the street and leaps across to the top of a building with effortless grace. The breeze is chilling, but invigortating as well. Jager then starts to leap building top to building top, heading downtown.

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Jager smiles as they sail over the city. Once he sees that Irini is having fun, he will add acrobatic twists and rolls to his movements. [Physical Prodigy, as well] He also seems to enjoy her body being pressed close to him.

Finally the journey ends as they land infront of a brightly lit story. The gold embossed sign says


and a small sign on the door says,

By Appointment Only.

Jager, arms still wrapped around Irini's waist, walks them toward the door. The door opens as they approach. A handsome man of Mediterranean decent approaches them as they enter.

"Thanks, Joshua," says Jager to this individual. The two come together and kiss eachother on the cheek. Joshua seems very pleased to see Jager.

His pleasure fades a bit as he turns to regard Irini.

"So, Jager, is this the special project you want me to undertake," Joshua says, regarding Irini with a critical, even jealous, eye?

"Yes, old friend. As usual, no limitations."

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Irini faces Joshua squarely and internalises her powers on instinct, the whites and irises of her blue eyes returning. She summons as much confidence as she can, standing tall and straight under his critical gaze.

"Hello," she says carefully. "My name is Irini."

{{Style 2 + App 4 (Exotic Quality)}}

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  • 2 weeks later...

Joshua begins working his magic on Irini. He begins with the comments,

"Too thin, ... boney, but not hopeless."

He starts of with some blues and golds, but turns back to black silks with patches of black lace that barely conceal. Joshua moves Irini back to a U-shaped mirrored area. He drapes fabrics over her, while he talks avidly about all sorts of things with Jager. He treats Irini like she's a maniquin. Jager keeps his eyes roving about, but occassionally Irini will catch him peaking at her body under the clothing.

Irini begins hearing smatterings of a conversation in a Russian/Turkish mismash from another section of the boutique. Abruptly, a dark complextioned, dark-eyed beauty erupts from a curtained partition, followed by two bulky, suited muscle boys. To Irini, these men scream Gangsters. There is something familiar about the girl, who seems really pissed about something.

Jager has moved from the seat he was reclining in.

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"Diavol!" Irini spits, her eyes flashing to star-spangled midnight. She clenches her fists, remaining absolutely still to keep the bits of fabric on her body in place.

"What is your problem?" the stunning beauty snaps in Russian. She seems to have not noticed Irini's narrowed eyes.

"Nothing," Irini mutters, bowing her head as she dorms, her eyes clearing back to faded blue. But she keeps a close watch on the woman's burly friends.

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The newcomer glares at Irini, then that all-too-familiar sneer comes to her face. Her voice takes on a condescending air.

"So, little ragamuffin, who let you in here? I thought this was an exclusive place, but if any slut with an on-her-knees blowjob face can get in ..."

The curtain parts again, and a half-dressed duplicate of the newcomer enters. She, too, is followed by two more thugs, who are followed by an older gentleman and an exasperated clothier with fabric draped over both arms.

The older man scans the room warily, and from his build and attitude is the head of security for this little troop. His eyes narrow when he spots Irini.

For Irini, the nightmare is getting worse. She recognizes the twins now. They are the only children of Amad Aardi, head of the Aardi Group and one of the largest conglomerates in Russia, and all of Asia, for that matter.

Jager is not readily visible, but Joshua explodes in Irini's defense. He turns and confronts the newcomer,

"Listen, you tramp, if you don't like the service, you can leave. If you insult the clientele, I can toss your cottage-cheese ass out on the street."

The newcomer flushes red, then steps up to slap Joshua. Her bodyguards appear ready to pummel him as well. Joshua confronts them all fearlessly.

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Irini's eyes narrow and she undorms swiftly, keeping the gravity field normal around her body instinctively to stop the fabric from becoming disarranged.

She waves a hand to float Joshua almost to the roof, out of the range of the furious twins and their bodyguards, and sets her jaw to face the girls, hoping Jason will intervene soon.

"Da, da, I am all of that," she admits in Russian, keeping her voice calm, "But please, we shouldn't argue. We are all Russian women in a strange land, nyet? I would never dream of offending you - one shouldn't insult people who are as above them as the stars are above the earth - but we are all here to get fancy dresses. Let us build on that experience, da?"

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The gangster-looking bodyguards looked stunned to be confronting a novas. The first twin only looks more incensed that someone so low as Irini could be a nova. Then, things seem to fall into slow motion.

Irini can see the two foremost bodyguards going for their guns, even as the senior one begins to say something. Jager seems to slip into Irini's peripheral vision. He smoothly moves inbetween the first twin and her closet bodyguard. With a sickening snap, he turns the man's gunhand in on itself. With a quick hand motion, Jager disessembles the pistol, sending the barrel into the temple of the second bodyguard.

Swinging around the man with the broke wrist, even as he starts to scream, Jager kicks footstool into the diaphram of the third guard, sending him flying back through the curtain. He continues the leg movement, kicking off a shoe into the fourth bodyguard's nose. The man flips head over heels, fountaining blood.

The senior security man finishes his command,

"Don't!", but it's a little late for the goons. The second twin has the look of a doe caught in the headlights, while the first one isn't yet aware of what has happened right behind her.

Jager finishes his movement by swinging behind the first guard and using the momentum to slam the guy face-first into the ground. Jager remains stanging, staring at the chief of security guy. Jager gives the man a brief nod; a kind of this is over, now thing.

Still looking at the man, Jager says,

"Ms. Aardi, I suggest you apologize to my lover."

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The first twin, Yasmine Aardi, is still frozen in midslap, still trying to deal with Joshua suddenly being lifted from her reach. The short scream of the man behind her is cut short, and she can hear the bodies hitting the walls and floor. Irini can see a flash of fear pass in Yasmine's eyes.

"Sister," Fatima, the second twin, whines.

Yasmine turns to look behind her as Joshua comes back to the floor. Joshua seems unpreterbed, but mutters something about the furniture.

"Who the fuck are you," Yasmine fires away at Jager, shaking with fury.

Still looking at the Viktor, the head of the security for the twins, Jager says,

"I take it you don't want to apologize then. Well, we can deal with that, too. Irini, do these sluts amuse you. They amuse the hell out of me."

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"They make me nervous," Irini confesses, giving Yasmine and Fatima sidelong glances. "Their father is a powerful man."

Her starry-black eyes narrow at the girls. "I offer again to you both. We can be three Russian women in strange country together, all of us wanting to get nice clothing. I don't want trouble." Her English is poor and thickly accented.

"If you decline, I am not responsible for what my lover does, and I am not without my defenses, as you saw. Ask Yuri Badin in Moscow."

She waits patiently for an answer.

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"Amuse you, do we?" Jasmine snarls at Jager.

As Irini finishes speaking, Yasmine waggles a finger behind her back, toward Irini,

"Shut up, you whore!" she spits.

Fatima pales even further and looks as if she is going to faint. Viktor remains perfectly still.

Jager smiles a predatory smile, then seems to grow in stature and power (Mega-Charisma + Awe Inspiring).

"Viktor, I am the nova Jager. I will be taking these two with me. I give you my word they will not be ... permenantly harmed. If you have questions about me, as BlackStar. I believe your employer knows him. I will return them in a timely manner. Is that clear."

Turning to the clothier that came in with the twins,

"Jean Paul, call an ambulance for these."

Jager motions to the fallen guards.

"Joshua, finish up with Irini. We need to be going soon, and, yes, I will pay for the collaterals."

Yasmine is about to say something else when Jager's hand snakes out and grasps her by the throat.

Finally facing her,

"There are plenty of ways one can live in Hell, little one. Ask Irini about it, if you like."

Jager lifts her off the ground, feet kicking.

Fatima takes this moment to pass out.

Viktor observes this situation emotionlessly, but as Yasmine is distracted, a slight smile crosses his face. Viktor nods to Jager in the affirmative.

Jean Paul moves over to the phone and Joshua begins his final alterations to Irini's new dress as if nothing was wrong. Irini catches him giving her a quick, grateful smile.

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Irini gives Joshua an apologetic look. "Sorry for that," she tells the clothier as he adds the last few stitches to her dress. "Those two known for stupidity in Russia."

Joshua steps away, allowing Irini to observe herself in the mirrors. Patches of black lace interspersed with almost-sheer ebon silk enhance her waifish beauty, giving her a look of tarnished innocence. An assistant brings some make-up and she applies a little gloss to her lips and some colour to her cheeks, doing nothing more than emphasising her natural colouring. Simple black heels and a handbag follow, and her look is complete. Experimentally, Irini begins to walk, and a thigh-length slit is revealed in the dress, giving her plenty of room to move.

"Da," she says, sounding pleased. "This is good."

She turns to Jager, giving him an unshadowed smile. "I will endeavour to make these two days ones you will remember for the rest of your life," she tells him in Russian.

Her eyes flicker to Yasmine and Fatima. "Best let her go. I think I wish to give them a taste of what it is like to be in someone else's control and reliant on their good will."

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Jager eyes Irini appriciatively, then nods to her request. Yasmine falls to the floor, stumbles and nearly crashes to the ground. Her face is still a mask of fury, but Irini can see a hint of fear in her eyes.

"As you wish," Jager responds and gives Irini a small bow.

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"Don't be stupid," Irini tells Yasmine as Fatima comes to. She repeats this for the prone girl, gently using her powers to get them both standing straight. "You will not be killed, and I will do my best to keep you from being harmed. But Jager is the one you have truly offended, so I advise you do everything he says."

Her rosebud mouth curls into a brief, somewhat chilly smile. "I think you will understand what it is to be Russian for most women, and many men too."

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Irini can see the fear written large all over Fatima's face. She is at a loss in this situation. The "what it is to be Russian" comment goes completely over her head.

Yasmine turns to say something else, when Jager's arm appears around her waist and he crushes her to him. He rapes a kiss off her lips, and bends her back, painfully. His other hand snakes up along her thigh, up her back, and into her hair. After a powerful full moment, he yanks her hair, forcing Yasmine's to arch back to the point of breaking. Yasmine licks her lips in esctasy.

Then, in a complete reversal, Jager gently puts her back on her feet as if they were lovers. Their eyes are locked and Yasmine appears completely mezmerized. Jager's raw sexuality is paletable.

Fatima suddenly lurches into Irini, seeking shelter.

Without looking her way,

"Come on, Irini. Let's destroy the night."

Yasmine on his arm, he turns to go, leaving Irini with the impression of a panther slinking off into the night.

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Irini closes her eyes briefly as Jager kisses Yasmine, then opens them to regard the blonde nova with the hint of a wry smile. "Looks like you could teach me a few things," she remarks as she follows him outside, Fatima being dragged along by the hand that Irini holds quite firmly.

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"There," Irini points, finding a taxi.

They pile in and Jager gives directions to the taxi driver. Soon enough, they arrive at StarLord's and get out, paying the driver for his troubles. Fatima and Yasmine are more or less dragged along, their dusky cheeks stained with crimson at the idea of being ignored.

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