Debut - OTA

[tech_geek]

Boredom and Jake Jensen didn't mix well. Kinda like nitrogen triiodide and an unsteady hand--Big fucking boom. As a kid it had gotten him into a lot of trouble. As an adult? Pretty much the exact same thing. Boredom was what had made his eight-year-old self build a parabolic antenna/radio out of kitchen appliances to contact aliens with, his ten-year-old self dig up his backyard in search of dinosaur bones, and his sixteen-year-old-self hack the FBI database. Boredom was what had deconstructed a missile just to see what made it tick, had changed Cougar’s records to say he’d had all his training at a secret Jedi stronghold, and had taken apart a General’s car for the spare parts needed to make a high-powered laser death ray. And that was just to name a few things.

Jensen was someone who always needed to be doing something, so it didn’t take much for boredom to kick in. All it took was a spare minute or two where he was alone with nothing to do. He’d get twitchy, restless. The ideas would start coming and then one of them would stick. It would nag and tempt. He’d know it wasn’t something he should be doing. He’d know the idea could get him into trouble, but the lure of it, the promise of figuring out how something worked, of creating something, of taking something broken and making it whole again, of accomplishing something instead of being such a monumental fuck-up would be too much to say no to. So he wouldn’t.

Unfortunately, right now, Jensen was at work. Most days it wasn’t so bad. The coffee shop usually had a steady flow of customers, so it was difficult to get well and truly bored. But today was a slow day. Maybe it was the weather, the rain was coming down so hard it looked like a sheet of water, or maybe it was just shit luck. He supposed he shouldn’t complain. Of all the places he could be, London wasn’t the worst. He could have ended up ass-deep in the Hindu Kush without an internet connection--Now that would have sucked.

Comments

[oftherivers]

Elizabeth didn't really need a coffee, but she did need to spare her calf leather boots the absolute deluge. She practically ran into the alcove near the door, shook out her umbrella and put it into the stand, then smoothed out her hair: today, a long, elaborate twist that ended in a tail of curls over her right shoulder.

Only then did she look up and notice the startlingly large and handsome barista. My, my, possibly I've found a new place to buy my coffee. She approached the counter without the faintest idea on earth of what she wanted to order and smiled at him--an open and gentle expression that she knew very well most people found reassuring, even charming.

[tech_geek]

Jensen had just been wondering what exactly the inside of the espresso machine looked like when the door opened. It was a woman. A very pretty woman actually. London apparently had no shortage of attractive people, so it had that over the Hindu Kush too. Internet and eye candy. She looked around his age, and dressed in clothes that had to cost more than he made in a month.

The customer smiled at him and Jensen smiled back, warm and toothy and just a little bit lopsided. “Hey there,” he greeted. “Welcome to Cafe Bene.”

[girl_upgraded]

Rave was always looking for new places with free wifi. She had her laptop configured just so, everything on an easily destroyed USB stick, and her wireless external for things she might need to access. She'd come here as soon as her classes were done for the day and she'd set up shop. She'd occupied the space but she'd steadily been drinking tea and had bought pastries twice. She was quiet, though as she tapped away at the keys. She had a little project, mostly research, looking into a construction company in America that she'd heard had what ought to have been criminal tendencies for shoddy materials, aggressive land grabs, and questionable practices of hazmat care.

She wasn't even secretive about it, though every time the attractive man came out from behind the counter to wipe a table she felt her stomach turn a bit. If asked she'd just say she was working on web design. The code on the screen didn't look like anything suspicious...to anyone who didn't know what to look for.

[oftherivers]

"American," Elizabeth said, smile growing larger. It wasn't that she never heard the accent about, but behind the counter at a coffee shop, it was slightly less common, perhaps. "I suppose that's the first thing most people say to you, though, isn't it? Thank you for the welcome--" She glanced down to see if he wore a name tag.

[letsblowitup]

Shaun paused against the brick wall, gripping his cane and taking slow, painful breaths. Fuck the senate, fuck government conspiracies, fuck Tate, he did not sign up for this shit. His muscles burned and lungs ached, and he'd only walked a few blocks.

And, well, shit. He'd have to walk back, too. Maybe he'd say uncle, and call a cab.

Crossing the entry to the coffee shop felt like a victory, even if he was on the verge of white knuckling his cane. He glanced up at the order counter, grinning as he noticed the baristas. All of them were hot, or, well, he couldn't see the dude's face, but if his back was anything to go by, then-

Motherfucker.

The guy had turned, and yes, he was hot, but he also looked just like like a dude he'd met on assignment. And he was now under a fake identity.

He almost walked out, but logic got the better of him. That dude had been some spook level spec-ops shit, and more than that, had fucking died. It'd been plastered all over the news, that shit the military claimed they did. There was no way he was a barista in the same coffee shop Shaun decided to go to.

Plus, he'd already walked all the way here. No goddamn way he was going back after all of that.

Still, he waited for the guy to wander off before going up, ordering his coffee and scone quick before limping over to a far corner that wasn't easily noticed from the counter. He'd earned the right to a little paranoia.

[tech_geek]

“Jensen?” Wendy said as Jensen came from out of the backroom. “Can you take this order over to the table in the corner? I need to refill the decaf pot. Thanks, mate.”

Nodding, Jensen replied, “Sure, no problem.” His gaze went to the corner table. Well, hey. He smiled. Coffee and Scone Guy was cute. Really cute. Or, well, okay, if the back of his head was anything to go by, he was really cute. But still. He smiled to himself, looking forward to the bright spot of a hot guy on a shitty, picked up the plate and coffee cup, and got ready to walk over. And then Coffee and Scone glanced his way.

Jensen’s stomach bottomed out. Fuck. He knew that guy. It was the journalist from the Blanchard Op, a mission that had sent them to hunt down a dick American who was operating in India as a drug smuggler. Turned out the dude was into human trafficking too and Shaun had been investigating into it. Fuck fuck fuck. When the fuck had his life turned into a comedy of errors and why had no one told him? Here he was living under-fucking-cover and there was one of the very few people who could identify him as not Jensen McClane.

Sighing to himself, Jensen picked up the plate and coffee cup and headed for the table. “Hey,” he said. “Here’s your order.”

[tech_geek]

“Jensen,” Jensen finished for the woman, tapping the plastic nametag that had ‘Jensen’ in big block letters beside a tiny robot, both written in Sharpie. Jensen McClane, if anyone asked. Or if anyone looked. His false identity was fucking flawless, thank you very much, specialized Army training. Wouldn’t the American people be happy to know their tax dollars hadn’t gone to waste?
 
“I do get the American thing a lot.” Jensen sighed, a hint of a smile on his lips as he joked, “It’s kinda disappointing actually. I thought I’d naturalized pretty effortlessly.”

[tech_geek]

Jensen wasn’t spying. He was hyper-attentive, which he felt, given his current being hunted down by a rogue government agent situation, was perfectly understandable. But, he wasn’t spying. He just happened to look over and notice something interesting going on with Dark Haired Girl’s laptop. Some next level shit kind of interesting.
 
He watched as two girls finished their coffees and got up from the window table they’d been occupying. Grabbing a bar cloth, he walked on over, eyes flicking imperceptibly to the computer screen as he passed by, and started to wipe down the table. “Business or pleasure?” he asked, glancing over at Dark Haired Girl.

[alcuin]

Alcuin actually spent a fair amount of time in coffee shops. If he stopped to analyze himself he might realize that it was because his home felt empty. But if he wasn't at school and he wasn't at Hannibal's... he didn't like spending a lot of time there.

Today, he had a messenger bag overflowing with books as usual, mostly psychology texts. One for the physics class he was taking this semester. He was a regular here, and he'd been coming fairly regularly since he'd started school in the spring; it was on his way home. At least a couple of the baristas he'd been sure had recognized him from his time in the papers, but none of them had ever been anything but friendly which he appreciated a lot.

"Soy chai please," he said, giving the man there today a friendly smile.

[girl_upgraded]

She knew if she reacted as if she'd been caught then she really would be caught, but if she played it off then most of the time people just moved on.

"School project," she lied. "It's dull. But I need it to pass. Are you going to toss me out? I know I've been here a bit. I can order again if you like," she offered then.

[dr_spencer_reid]

Spencer sat with his laptop open on the table, eyeing it like it was the enemy. His coffee cup sat beside it, nearly empty, but he wasn't paying that any attention at the moment.

He hated technology. He hated skimming chat logs or writing emails... And right now he couldn't do either. All he was being offered was a black screen with white text that was asking him if he wanted to boot into safe mode. ...Spencer didn't even know what safe mode was.

He would have given anything to have Garcia here. There wasn't a laptop in the universe she couldn't beat into submission.

Cautiously, he tapped a button, shrinking away from the angry beep the machine offered in return.

"I don't know what you want from me," he told it, looking mildly annoyed.

An IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, the ability to read 20,000 words per minute... Phd's in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering, as well as B.A.s in Psychology, Sociology and Philosophy- Yet he couldn't get a flimsy box full of circuitry to show him his email.

[oftherivers]

She laughed quietly, musically. "I think you could hardly avoid it once you're forced to speak. And you do have rather a social job, here."

[tech_geek]

There was no way in hell that was a school project.

“Nah, you can stay,” Jensen answered, hanging the bar cloth over a broad shoulder and turning to face the girl. “I don’t care. My manager would, but he’s not here, so, go wild. Damn the man.”
 
Jensen crossed the room and went back behind the counter, tossing the towel onto the counter behind him. “What’d you go to school for? Sorry, you’re working on something, I should leave you alone. Once I get going, I cannot shuuut-up, especially on days I’m working alone. I usually end up talking to myself.”

[tech_geek]

Jensen recognized the guy on the other side of the counter. He’d never served him before, but he’d seen him come in more than once, usually around the same time. Sometimes he got looks from the other customers, so he had to be Someone Important. Hell if he knew who he was though. “Sure,” he replied, ringing up a soy chai and then rattling off the total before asking, “Name for the order?”

[tech_geek]

The guy at the back table had been talking to himself for five minutes now. Something was up with his laptop and he was not happy. Jensen glanced at him as he passed by on his way to another table, an empty dish tub balanced on his hip. The table in question, which was actually three smaller tables pushed together, was a mess thanks to a group of loud 20-something hipsters that had just left.
 
“It’s not going to answer,” Jensen replied as he piled dirty dishes into the tub. “They can be stubborn like that.”

[tech_geek]

“Oh, riiight,” Jensen replied, smacking the heel of his hand against his forehead. “That thing.”
 
Jensen grinned at the customer, leaning on hands that were flat on the counter, “So, what can I get ya?”

[dr_spencer_reid]

"It worked this morning," Spencer said, tapping the space bar, then flinching when it beeped again.

"I don't understand why students need to email me. I have an office, they could call or walk in..."

He frowned, then glanced over at the man. "Sorry. Am I disturbing people? I can go if I am," he offered, looking awkward and embarrassed.

[alcuin]

"Alcuin," Alcuin said pleasantly.

And then the man standing behind him in line (older, Egyptian, well dressed) said to his female companion in Arabic, "... knew it! The whore who killed his father, it was in the papers."

Alcuin didn't turn to look. But it was clear from his immediate facial expression that he'd heard it and understood, and red creeped up his neck as he looked down at his wallet and pretended that he didn't speak Arabic.

[letsblowitup]

Shaun steeled himself as he saw Jensen coming over. Well. Shit. Though, really, he had to do it. If anyone would understand the need for a false identity, it'd be him. Maybe the dead-but-not-really guys could stick together?

Though, be serious. When the hell has anything in his life worked out that well.

"Oh, thanks, man," he said, forcing a smile, then scrunched his face like he was trying to puzzle something out. "Hey, have we met? You look familiar. I'm Shaun Kapur." He put emphasis on the last name, giving him a meaningful look since no one else could see him, and hoped it didn't bite him in the ass.

[tech_geek]

Ooookay, so this was weird. So, not only had the only guy who could ID him walked into, of all the fucking cafes in London, the one he was working in, but that guy was also going under a fake name. It was enough to send every paranoid, conspiracy theorist bell he had ringing. Fuck. He was so screwed. Dude could do his journalist thing and the whole world would know they weren’t dead. It’d bring Max down on them hard and fast.

Clay would probably tell him to kill the guy. Too big a threat, they needed to avenge those kids, get their lives back... The usual. But, he was so not on board with executing a fucking innocent. Also, Clay was fucking crazy. Maybe he could convince the guy that the bullshit the media had printed was just that.

“Jensen,” Jensen replied. “McClane. We must! America is such a small place, right? I mean, everyone just knows everyone there. Kidding. Ah, yeah. Yeah, we do know one another.”

[girl_upgraded]

"Oh, you know. Computer science, but I take some literature to make my mum happy," she replied, smiling at his rambling. It was quite sweet in its way, even if it was drawing her attention from her little project.

"I like that attitude. Damn the man," Rave said, huffing out a tiny laugh. "Quite the act of rebellion. Be careful, someone might question your loyalty to capitalist ideals and the almighty pound note."

[tech_geek]

“Nah, you’re good, dude,” Jensen answered. He wasn’t being that loud really, and the place was practically empty anyway.

Wiping his hands on a towel, Jensen turned to him and gestured at the laptop, “Want me to take a look at it? I’m good with computers.”

[tech_geek]

Jensen understood too, but hid it better, just barely glancing up as if checking who had been speaking. His heart went out to the kid though. He was obviously embarrassed, and the couple just kept talking. Fucking assholes.

“You know what?” Jensen asked as he jotted Alcuin’s name down on the cup. “It’s on the house today. Pay it forward. Or not. Whatever floats your boat, dude.”

[tech_geek]

“Anyone who knows me isn’t questioning. They know exactly where my loyalty,” Jensen grinned, “or lack thereof stands.”
 
Jensen grabbed a disposable cup and turned to the coffee maker to pour himself a cup of freshly-made Chocolate Dipped Churro, this week’s Flavor of the Week coffee. It was good, not his favorite, but he wasn’t going to complain when he got it for free. Taking a sip, he turned back around.

[alcuin]

Alcuin looked up at him, surprised. The timing of the offer was suspect... but what were the odds that a random American barista spoke Arabic?

Meanwhile, he was trying to ignore the people behind him, as the man relayed in great detail exactly what he'd read about Alcuin in the tabloids. That he was a prostitute who had killed his father-or-was-it-lover-or-both in some sort of jealous rage. Alcuin was doing an okay job of ignoring it until he heard the words ... pimp, probably deserved what he got, that he spun on them.

His spoken Arabic wasn't very good, since he had mostly learned to listen and understand it rather than speak it, but it was good enough that he could call them a couple of very bad words before he stomped off towards a table in the corner. His heart was pounding, and he'd completely forgotten about the chai.