|Things Jeremy Did Not Expect to Establish Office Policy About|
|Location||Offices - X-Factor Solutions|
|Summary||Sumit comes and asks Jeremy v. important human resources questions, like, what do we do about terrorist attacks on the job. No insurance policy covers any of this stuff.|
Sumit has had the lunch time shift at the Fat Greek again today, meaning he has a good chunk of the late afternoon to himself, as well as the evening. With the XFS offices being on his route home it's no great stretch to stick his head in to see if there are any more jobs posted yet. Noting he's not the only one about he sticks his head up the stairs to see if the boss is in.
Jeremy is sitting at his desk with his foot lodged up atop it, his other foot tilted against its front desk as he talks animatedly, gesturing invisibly to somebody he is having a voice-only call with. "--but seven hundred? Really? For eight fifty I can get you three, but not for longer than a day. For seven, you get maybe me, and a couple of handpuppets. Seriously. Seven hundred dollars? I may be a budget operation but you gotta stop getting so insulting." He waves at Sumit as his head pokes in through the door, smiling welcome even as he swings forward and lets his foot hit the floor. "Yeah, that'll work. No, I'm not kidding. I'll throw in the handpuppets for free. I know a guy. Sure, Leroy, get back to me." He pulls off the headset and tosses it aside, running a hand through his hair as he sighs.
"New job coming in?" Sumit asks casually as Jeremy ends the call, "anything good." Sticking his hands in his pockets as he waits for all post-call things to be sorted he then tilts his head ever so slightly and asks, " you got a minute or two? Wanted to go over something that happened last week, clear something up."
"Maybe. Depends on whether we close this deal or not. I'm not hiring us out for peanuts at this point." Jeremy swings forward in his seat, dropping the fold of his arms against his desk, and raises his eyebrows at Sumit with a slightly quizzical twist to his mouth. "What can I do for you, man?"
Sumit has never been a businessman, so merely nods at the reply given rather than attempting to dig deeper into the economics of it all. "I'll keep it quick," he starts then jumps straight to the point, "Revelation. What are our rules of engagement? I didn't want to escalate to letal before they did, but if they pop up again, how are we handling them?"
"Revelation are murderous terrorists. Defend yourself and your life. That's your first priority." Jeremy glances aside, frown deep grooved into his expression. His hands lower, resting with a still tension against the surface of his desk. "They might not kill us first thing because we're mutants," he says. "But they will not hesitate to kill us if we kill them first. I'm not going to say you can't do anything to stay alive that you can, but I'm not going out on a vendetta against these guys. We're not strong enough to fight them and we don't have the resources to hunt them down. We're not the X-Men. Not--" he breaks off, and then shakes his head, blowing out his breath.
Sumit gives Jeremy a short, sharp nod at the initial reply, then holds a hand up as if to stop a chain of thought. "I've danced with terrorists before, hell, if you ask the right people they'd likely tell you I was one. I've got no plans to go hunt them out, just wanting to know the company line on if they gate crash a party again. I mean, I had Miasma in my sights for at least a minute, maybe longer, could ahve put several bullets into her, likely killed her, but as I said, I didn't want to escalate, especially when it became obvious I was immune to her. Is that how you want it played on your ops in future?"
"It's not like I expected it to come up," Jeremy says with a snort. He rubs at the side of his nose with his thumb, and says, "We're not a military operation. We're not a paramilitary operation. If we can help people, great. But I'm not asking anybody to die for this gig. Use your best judgment. That's all I can say."
"I think the only people who might have expected it were Rider's brother and his friends at the other end," Sumit replies with a faint frown. "Or maybe the.. the.. rundi ki tatti pe baithnewaali makkhi who loaded it onto the van at this end." He then flashes an apologetic look and notes, "sorry, it doens't really translate. Do we," he pauses a moment, trying to phrase what it is he wants to ask next, "do we even know what it was?"
"Nope. Classified." Jeremy's smile is slight as he cocks an eyebrow across the desk at him. "I could hazard a guess about what it was for, but do you think it would be safe for either of our health if I did?"
"I'd be fascinated to know," Sumit replies dryly, "but I understand the merits of staying off people's sonars at times." Not that he seems terribly happy about being so much in the dark, but he does give grudging acceptance to the idea that there might be worse options.
"Not that I'm encouraging gossiping out of school," Jeremy says, and then proceeds to do just that: "but follow up with Tiffany if you wanna know more. She might have done a little snooping around the base without telling me about it." He leans back in the chair. "Of course, I don't know anything about that."
"Resourceful that one," Sumit replies as he's given the hint to follow up on, "I'll have to have a chat next time I see her." The faux-denial gets a faint smile though and he nods once in understanding before noting simply, "well, if you did know anything, you certanly never mentioned it to me." Since he's got the information he came in for he asks by way of making to depart, "you got anything that needs doing now? I've a few hours free.”
Jeremy leans forward to tick over his computer screen as he idles through a few dozen windows, frowning. "Uhh. I've got an estate sale auction that could use some security on east third street," he says. "I wasn't going to take it because it's not gonna get you more than forty bucks for the afternoon, but the widow is worried that the yakuza is going to come and take all of her husband's old baseball cards, so if you're free--"
Sumit considers for a moment then frowns as the word yakuza comes out. "Hmm," he replies, giving Jeremy a look for a moment before he replies, "depends. How likely do you think it is that she's right. Not saying that the chance to beat up a few chinks isn't tempting, but, I'm probably not the man if they're out in force."
"The yakuza is Japanese," Jeremy says, eyebrows ticking up, as he glances back at Sumit, "and watch it on the epithets, I know you aren't a big fan of China, but I've got a lot of white guilt to live down if I just let that shit slide. Anyway, she's ninety six, and the last name is Connelly, so in my considered opinion, I don't think that anybody's actually after the baseball cards. But you can take it or leave it. Like I said -- I told her I wasn't sure I could find anybody at her asking price."
"Are they?" Sumit replies, looking a mix of surprised and embarressed he got that one wrong, "well, I guess you learn something new every day. I'll head over, might not be much, but I missed a load of shifts last week, so every little bit I can catch back up helps. I'll comm in if there's any trouble or whatnot." Making no comment on his favourate ethnic slur he turns to depart."Yeah, give a shout if it turns out you need backup," Jeremy says with the faint flicker of a smile, not pressing either issue. He slouches back in his chair again, scrubbing his hand over his jaw as he turns his gaze to his computer and gives the screen a good eyeballing.