OOM: Room 130

[watching_you]

Veronica stands in the centre of her apartment, examining her surroundings critically.

The whole thing could never have been helped, she supposes. On one hand the entire place has been decorated with all of the style and flair of a very confident eighteen-year-old college freshman; on the other hand the place has been decorated with all of the style and flair of a very confident eighteen-year-old college freshman. There are posters on the walls for God's sake. Veronica is wincing.

It doesn't help that the whole room looks very, well, seven years ago. The carpet and the drapes and the couch with those little wooden legs... Something must be done. And Special Agent Veronica Mars, FBI, is just the one to do it.

Well, maybe she can supervise.

Those couches aren't light.

Comments

[watching_you]

The 'getting up' part doesn't seem to be forthcoming, although this is possibly because Indy's legs still have her pinned.

"I always feel bad asking Bar to do things for me, though," Veronica says in the meanwhile, "especially when I can't really return the favour. Except with money. And I suppose I could move around furniture downstairs. But I don't really think she'd want me to, y'know?"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Frowning at Veronica's inactivity, Indy lifts his feet up to see if that changes anything.

"You could always take a few pro bono bartending shifts. If you still remember how to. That's like a big favor to her, 'cause it lets her rest."

And it would be a big favor to Indy, since voluntarily employment means less money going out, and less random inexperienced people 'tending at Bar's whim.

[watching_you]

"I suppose that's true. I would have to bust open the Big Book of Booze 'n' Boobs again though, brush up on a few recipes." She grins. "And maybe add a few of my own."

Veronica gets the message from the lifted feet, and slides out from under Indy's legs, replacing them on a pillow once she's free. "Alright, what'll you have?" she asks, padding towards the small cabinet. "Your options are Jack or Jack, with the added twist of 'in a glass' or 'from the bottle'."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"Hmmm," Indy considers. "Tough decision."

"I think I'll take the Jack. With the civilized serving option."

[watching_you]

"Surprise, surprise," Veronica teases, "Jones drinks like a little girl. Glass it is, tough guy."

After some searching in the cabinet, she emerges with the bottle and two tumblers, looking triumphant. When she returns to the couch, however, her seat has of course been taken by feet.

She doesn't say anything to Indy.

Just pouts.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy gives her an innocent look.

"Take back the little girl comments and you can have your seat back," he says, ever so sweetly.

[watching_you]

Veronica considers this.

"I'll sit on the floor," she says eventually, and does so, crossing her legs and letting her back rest against the couch; she then goes about pouring the drinks.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"I see the FBI hasn't improved your stubbornness," Indy notes. "Which is really nice, 'cause I adore that aspect of your personality."

Not that he's trying to seem honest, but the smirk gives his lies away regardless.

[watching_you]

"Oh, you like to joke, but I know that deep inside..."

She shakes her head, then passes him over a glass, an inch or so of whiskey sloshing around in the bottom.

"If I'd been gone for seven years your time, you would have missed me. And my stubbornness. Admit it."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy takes a thoughtful gulp of the bourbon before replying.

"I... dunno. Maybe a few aspects of you?"

He wrinkles his nose.

"But there's that new chick, Elle, around who looks just like you, so... not entirely."

[watching_you]

Veronica spins in her seat, twisting to gape at Indy, one arm up on the couch.

"You met my creepy doppleclone? And you're just mentioning this now?"

Beat.

"And you think she could replace me?!"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy winces at her reaction.

"I'm mentioning it and instantly regretting it."

"Um. She could replace you... visually?" he suggests, quite tentative now. "From a great distance. Or up very close if I didn't have my glasses."

[watching_you]

Veronica's gape focuses into a laser-like glare of inquisition.

"'Up very close'? Very close, he says. Just what were you doing with this girl that meant you were up so close without knowing she wasn't me?"

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"I was bartending," Indy reasons. "But I knew she wasn't you right from the get go, 'cause she was zapping marshmallows with her lighting power."

"I'm just sayin', if she was up real close for some hypothetical reason, and she didn't speak, I might not be able to tell the difference without my glasses."

[watching_you]

After a few more seconds of glaring (for good measure), Veronica turns back around and sips her drink, sullenly.

"I just... I don't like her. She's stolen my face and she's going around doing God knows what with it."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy relaxes somewhat, as it seems that Veronica has lost the scent.

"It happens," he points out.

He gestures at his own countenance.

"I mean, since I first arrived I've been mistaken for Han Solo more times than I can count. You get used to it."

[watching_you]

"Well, yeah... but you and Han Solo are at least kinda similar. You know, ruggedly handsome, not exactly the most lawfully inclined, tends to shoot first... These are all things you have in common. When I met my evil twin she was all..."

She waves her hands vaguely, possibly indicating grabby hands and/or claws and/or zombie maneuvers.

"...'Oooh, look at me, I'm so cool, zap zap zap, by the way if you ever wanted to check out Veronica's cleavage you may now more or less do so, blah blah blah.' It was just wrong."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"I suppose."

Indy can't help but snicker, even though he knows it's not going sit very well with Veronica. Her description is funny! He bites back his first response of "what cleavage?" and goes with something that's hopefully less offensive.

"If you think that was wrong, you should see what she does with a helping of cream."

[watching_you]

Oh look, the lasers are back.

"Explain."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Ah crap. Just when Indy thought he was in the clear. He shifts himself up on the couch a little, putting some crucial extra inches between them.

"Um. She likes it," he offers.

Dishonesty is not an option anymore. But vagueness still is.

"Likes playing with it. In a kinda teasing way."

He gives Veronica an apologetic look, suspecting that it won't be the last one he sends her before they're done here.

[watching_you]

Her reply comes very slowly.

"Indiana Jones. Did you. Play. With whipped cream. With my doppleganger."

She awaits his answer very, very patiently.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

"Woah! Absolutely not," Indy insists.

Poor choice of wording Veronica.

"I just watched her play with it."

[watching_you]

"Ah," she says, in a tone that Indy might be foolish enough to interpret as 'understanding', "So it was purely hands-off."

A half-second pause.

"In other words, voyeurism."

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy isn't sure he likes that description. But to refute it would be to dig himself an even deeper hole.

"I... guess. Not entirely my fault though. She kinda hypnotized me with her alluring acts. I was helpless to resist."

Speaking of helpless, he looks that way right now.

"Maybe she's got powers beyond her lightning thing," he hazards, "and she put a spell on me?"

[watching_you]

Veronica snorts. "Oh, yes. Hypnotism. Of all possible answers that's the most likely. It has nothing at all to do with the fact that I'm sure she was all..."

She lifts a hand and tousles her hair, letting it fall in front of her eyes, then turns the movement into a long, languid stretch that arches her back. "Oh... Indy," she moans huskily, "It's so... hot in here," one finger running across her face, lips, to her jawbone and along it, tracing the line of her neck - down to the top button of her shirt, which she opens, and then the next. "Maybe it's just me, but I've been feeling really... hot recently..." She stretches again as she turns towards him, letting her hand run along his leg, starting at the ankle, then calf, then knee, then thigh - meanwhile she gets to a crouch, the other hand balancing her drink.

In a smooth movement she's got him pinned: one foot on the floor but the other knee over him, at his side; her free hand presses against his chest, keeping him down. She leans forwards, bringing her face so close to his that it seems she's about to kiss him, but at the last moment she diverts, moving to breathe into his ear, nuzzling his jawline as she does. "What about you, Doctor Jones? Are you..." a pause, and a breathy sigh: "...hot?"

Then suddenly she pushes back, the spell broken, looking smug. "Superpowers my ass."