A follow up to this thread. Therefore takes place around end of September, beginning of October.

The owner of the lumber shop was not surprised when the prawn ducked through the door. A greeting of, “Hey! It’s been a while. Got another project?”

Jack gave a quiet huff, her massive hand reaching for the parcel that was tucked beneath her arm as she crossed the front of the store to the desk where the owner sat. She laid a glimmering, slightly-singed cut of wood before him, which amounted to the size of a large textbook. The owner was an older, unflappable gent, wide around the waist and face full of bushy grey hair. The sight of the broken, slightly burnt wood was enough to make the man raise his eyebrows.

“What happened here?”

Another huff. Jack fished out her phone and typed hurriedly to the shopkeeper.

<<Got in a fight at a friend’s house. Accidentally broke his table. It’s part of a dining set, so if I can, I’d like to get wood that looks similar.>>

The shopkeeper surveyed the shard while Jack explained herself, giving a low whistle, “Walnut and cherry wood. Sturdy stuff. Hope ya weren’t fightin’ with yer friend.”

Jack flapped a hand dismissively, shaking her head. She quickly typed, <<Naw, a friend of his. Dumb a-- couldn’t hold his liquor and decided to pick a fight with the biggest person at the party…>>

“Boy do I know how that goes,” the shopkeeper laughed, hoisting himself to his feet, “Just yer luck, I’ve got some stuff that’s pretty close. I’ll let ya have a look.”

---

Jack found herself in front of Looking Glass one week later, a fully-constructed table propped-up on one of her massive shoulders. The prawn wished, deep within her soul, that she’d mutated into something smaller, and less of a neon eyesore. Who knew what sort of welcome awaited her within the bar? If she was smaller, she could sneak in, drop the table off, scour the establishment for her ID and sneak-off before anyone was the wiser.


Yeah, about that ID—she had opened a tab when she came in with Victor, expecting a night of drinking and relaxation—when that night was unexpectedly and rudely brought to an end, Jack had retrieved her things, but had not closed her tab. Thus the owner(s?) had her ID. Judging by the fact that the men in blue hadn’t paid the prawn a visit, Jack suspected that the ID was still there. At least, that was what she’d hoped. She would leave the table, get her ID, close her tab, and be more-than-happy to never show her face again at the Looking Glass.

That was the plan, anyway.

Jack brought the table down, balancing it in her two, massive primary hands before waddling to the entrance. They should have been open for the lunch hours. Using the table, she gently nudged the doors open, and waddled inside.

Once inside, she let the door swing shut behind her, and set the table down.

“Need to talk to duh owner,” she said flatly. The bartender paled, her expression one of contained panic, as she scrambled for the nearby phone, “No trou’le. Want no trou’le.”

Judging by her expression, the bartender at least knew of Jack. The prawn remained rooted near the door, less her welcome was less than warm. The few patrons that were there murmured amongst themselves, sensing the bartender’s panic, but uncertain of the prawn’s identity. Jack huffed, certain that the owner would be with them shortly.

Randy scrolled through the emails. Mostly he needed a reply from the insurance company. Fire damage, replacement furniture, and four new reviews with less than three stars. Nearly a week and Randy was still dealing with the fallout from a damned bar fight. It came with the business, he knew that. Still it was a pain in the a** when it happened. Looking Glass had a reputation for being milder than the party bars, despite the mutant heavy crowd. Still, life goes on. You grit you teeth and struggle through it. His boxing instructors first lesson.

Despite all the annoyances there was a bright side. One of the fellows involved left their ID behind with an open tab. Jacquelyn Dyer. He didn't now her personally but he had herd of her. Randy's jazz bar might be a bit out of the norm but he stayed in the loop, more or less, with the other bars nearby. Jacquelyn worked at one of them, he just didn't know which one.

BEEP BEEP

Pulling his attention from the screen he tapped the intercom button on the phone. "Whats up George?"

>> "Um, The uh... The Lady from the fight last week is here. And she brought a table."

"A table? Ok then, I'll be right down." She brought a table. He had no idea how to respond to that. Yes she and her friend broke it but seriously, replacement means paying for it. Who brings a f****** table as an apology? Grabbing her ID and credit card from his desk Randy stood, and ported down to the bar. He stood still for a moment when he saw her. Jacquelyn was much more intimidating in person than the ID photo let you know. Then there was the table. Yup, she brought an actual table. "Guessing you came back to get you cards?"

Jack stonily awaited the arrival of the boss, gaze casually wandering towards the far wall. There was still a gap where the broken table had been removed. And, from this distance, her adaptation of the design looked strikingly similar. Maybe even better. Jack didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

In a wavering tone, the woman announced Jack’s arrival into the mouthpiece of the phone. There was a pause, a space for their response, and then the barkeep hung-up.

“He’ll be down in a moment.”

Jack nodded patiently. She blinked. And a man appeared, heralded in by a fluttering breeze. The bartender seemed unsurprised, perhaps a touch relieved. He had to be the boss. A mutant man. Jack didn’t put any stock into their shared possession of an X-Gene, as she and her—hrm, fling—had still trashed his establishment. There was tension in the prawn’s stance, squared shoulders and stoic expression.

>> "Guessing you came back to get you cards?"

“Yes,” Jack replied, “Dat is nigh intention.”

It wasn’t really her fault. Nor was it really Victor’s. But if either of them were to blame, it was Victor—he did more physical damage than she did. Perhaps that was why Jack was here, instead. That, and her familiarity with nightclub operations and skills with carpentry and general maintenance were a plus. And in the event that the boss at Looking Glass ever figured out where she worked, her livelihood would be at risk.

“Also,” she bent at the waist, patting the replacement table with the flat of her palm, “An oss-ering. I wanna work sun-sing out.”

She resumed her position by the door, pocketing her thumbs once more. Jack wouldn't move from her spot until invited in. Trouble was the last thing she wanted.

“Consi’er it nigh resu-nay.”

>> “Yes. Dat is nigh intention. Also. An oss-ering. I wanna work sun-sing out.”


Randy examined the table. She did decent work, he'd give her that. However he already filed an insurance claim on the damage.

>> “Consi’er it nigh resu-nay.”

A resume? Randy's expression turned less that friendly for a moment. He'd seen the security feed and asked around. She may not have started the fight but Jacquelyn and her date where the ones who did the damage to his property. "So... Someone picked a fight with you and your friend. I can forgive the self defense, hell I expect it. But you two broke a table and nearly started the d***** building on fire." The patrons were all watching them at this point. Randy didn't care. It probably was a bad idea to have this conversation in the open but it was a bit late for that either way.

"The thing is Jacquelyn, replacing my table isn't enough. You want me to consider it a resume? Sorry but no. The only reason I haven't called your boss yet is I've been busy looking for your friend. I don't plan on pressing charges but he nearly lost it and could have gotten a lot of people hurt or even killed." Randy, normally cool under pressure was visibly ticked. He straight out lied about knowing her boss's number just to vent his frustration. Yeah he was being hard on her, maybe a bit too hard. But he was running a business and this was a serious issue. Some times you can't just let bygones be bygones.

"I understand where you might be coming from here and if I had just been a casual observer in all this I'd let it go. Put yourself in my position though. Fights happen, accidents happen, things get out of hand some times. I get it. But someone has to clean up the mess. Frankly after a week I already called the insurance company to clean the place up and ordered a new table even."

She let the boss-man go—and boy, did he go. He vented and vented and ripped into the behemoth of a woman. There was no noticeable change in Jack’s expression or body language. What he said was fair enough. The jab at “the only reason he hadn’t called her boss yet” made a muscle in her jaw twitch. She broke a table that had caught fire, with full intention of repairing it. It wasn’t like she was breaking tables for the hell of it. And what would he tell her boss, anyway? “Yo, your bouncer got drunk, and her fling nearly burnt down the place. She didn’t do too much, except get stabbed, protect herself, and repaired the table that was already going to be burnt to cinders in the first place. But, you know, even though she really didn’t do anything wrong, I’m going to threaten her livelihood! Haha!”

Of course he knew Jack was in the business. The prawn felt like nightclub owners gossiped like old housewives, though she had no concrete proof of this. Word of a seven-and-a-half foot tall iridescent bouncer had to have been passed around at some point. But to try and use that knowledge just for some petty revenge… beneath her surgical mask, the prawn ground her mandibles. Her pupils were constricted. There was no noticeable change to her body language, but she seemed more… tense. But she didn’t say anything. What did she expect, a warm welcome? Ha! At least he wasn’t going to press charges. And hell, he didn’t want to her around, so that was nice.

“Didn’t intend on only re’lacing duh ta’le,” Jack said, making fully certain that Randy understood the terms that she was offering, “Know duh cost uzz collateral is ex’ensive. Sought un’aid work could con-esate sore duh dan-age. Worked construction. Know sun maintenance-related skills. ‘ut I understand your rationale.”

All he needed to do was say the word and she’d get the f—k out of there, and gladly never show her face again. Or if he wanted to extort the prawn for labor, she was openly offering to work-off her debt. Whatever. It was literally just an offer.

“You want dis? Could at least sell,” Jack said with finality, tossing a shrug, “Good crass-manshi’. Good wood. Cou’le hundred dollars easy. Or I take.”

Literally just offers. She wanted to clear her name with the man but she wasn’t going to prostrate herself at his feet and beg. Jack was a dignified woman, and in a business where her reputation as a tough person was an asset. It wouldn’t do to have her sniveling at the feet of the boss of a rival club. But at least she had enough a sense of responsibility to try and put things right.

>> “Didn’t intend on only re’lacing duh ta’le. Know duh cost uzz collateral is ex’ensive. Sought un’aid work could con-esate sore duh dan-age. Worked construction. Know sun maintenance-related skills. ‘ut I understand your rationale.”

She was willing to work off the damage. That was something. On the other hand She could lose her real job if word got round to her boss she was pulling shifts at a rival bar.

>> “You want dis? Could at least sell. Good crass-manshi’. Good wood. Cou’le hundred dollars easy. Or I take.”

Randy gave a huffed sigh and turned his attention to the table. "May as well see what you brought. The whole situation is pretty screwed up for both of us." Jacquelyn did good work. Randy was no carpenter but he could tell a finely made table. The patterns didn't match perfectly to his main furniture but it was close. If he did sell it he'd likely cover the fire damage costs. On the other hand Jacquelyn was trying to right her wrongs. "This is good Jacquelyn. I wish you had just come back the next day or the day after. It would have made this all a lot easier for both of us."

Yes he was angry, and had some right to be, but she was trying. Most people wouldn't do that so he gave her credit where it was due. "Lets get this into place and see how it looks with the room. I'll make a decision about what we need to do after that." He might be a hard man at times but Randy wasn't heartless. Letting her do some work to pay things off was normally acceptable, the only issue was her current job. There was no reason to get her fired. Or he could just cut her loose and be done with it.