Absurdum Est

This is fun.

"The French," Jack says without pause and as sincerely as possible. Which is fairly bloody convincing.

James L., it turns out, has a nice, if a bit sloppy, smile. Jack would dearly love to see it again, perhaps offer it closer inspection, perhaps with his mouth next time. Defendant status and professional... whatever aside, Jack is not ready to give up on this game. James gives as good as Jack, and that's a rare quality to find in a man. The only other one that keeps up on Jack's wavelength is Hector in Accounting. And he's just mean about it.

Jack takes the last drag off the cigarette before ripping off the cherry and pocketing the filter in his jeans. He pulls out his crumpled piece of phone number. "I could lose the paper. It could just fly away with the wind." He flutters the paper in a mimicry but doesn't actually let go. It'll be his head if he loses it, or more likely his future date with James. Drinks are hard to be had sitting in a cell for thirty days.

A change in tactics is needed. Jack edges closer into James' personal space, going so far as to lean close to his ear to better whisper to him. "What if I make you a deal. We go have drinks, little stronger than just tea -- " and Jack gives a little eye roll at that " -- and I'll... go break a window in a house, or something. That way I get my time and you can give your sound and comforting legal advice. Square enough?"