2019-10-01 - Exploit Ahoy


Jeriah continues his efforts to get Jemma out of the lab. It doesn't go as planned.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Tue Oct 1 06:12:25 2019
Location: New York

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Jeriah and Jemma are… out. The hacker soldier has insisted that she stop burning the candle at both ends and that she come out for a drink. She, in turn, may have insisted that if they were going for drinks he should take her dancing. And to her eternal blush, perhaps, he agreed to do exactly that.

They're in between the drinks and dancing part of the evening. Walking from one location to the other. It's nice enough out that a walk isn't a huge hardship though it's at an hour when the streets are getting dark and there's not very much foot traffic.

"So are all Brits such lightweights?" Yeah… teasing. As he does.

Jemma is far to busy to do this and yet Jeriah had been insistent she do. She's still not sure how he did it.

"I'm not a lightweight. Not since they gave me the augments." Jemma answers. She's had several glasses of wine and she might be a light headed. Which might explain why she's weaving a little as she walks.

Not much, but enough to be noticeable.

Someone managed to get the biochem to let her hair down.

"Anyone who drinks their beer warm must be a lightweight." Says the Hacker, teasing again. They're probably halfway between their destination and their departure point now. This area is mostly shop fronts all of which are closed. There are some nice things to look at in the windows though.

Or… there are until Jemma feels a sudden headache coming on. There's a tick in the back of her neck that she can recognize as someone accessing her implants. She might think it was Jeriah but this doesn't feel like him and they're not negotiating the security either. They're going right through it.

In an instant someone's in her head and starting to rifle through her memories like they're so many photos in an album. It's hard to move. It might be hard to talk as well.

"There's good reason we drink our beer warm." Jemma smirks, weaving a little more as they keep walking. She doesn't try to steady herself - in fact she seems to be enjoying herself. The issues of Steve and the weapon temporarily filed away.

"Uh…. Jeriah, is that you …" Her metal hand goes to her head and the other grabs at Jeriahs sleeve. "Please …"

She stops moving and saying anything, in the middle of glitch, right there in the middle of the street.

The memories … yeah, she didn't need to relive some of those.

"Ah. There's what I want." She can hear that in her head. And then she's in the room. The countdown happening. The gas being released. She knows she's going to die. She can feel it taking hold of her. Then she's on a gurney. Reliving herself wasting, rotting away while nothing the doctors try works. Feeling her body breaking down around her. Reliving the pain, the terror, in crystal clear recall. Everything about her doom laid out before her.

She can barely feel Jeriah grab her to support her and sink down to the pavement with her. She MIGHT feel his intrusion into her systems. But he's not fighting another intruder. Someone's got the master password to Jemma herself. And they're using it.

Her arm comes up and she has one directive. Kill him.

That memory itself is interesting. Jemma was so focussed on what she was doing the fear didn't set in till the gas went off. When it did, she managed to push that down to help the others out. It was after - the rotting away, laying in the bed and knowing that all her skill and knowledge wasn't enough to save her.

And then the pain. Pain so bad she was ready to die to be finish it. After that, the looks of pity and grief on those around her - who had written her off as already dead.

Her mechanical arm snaps up, fingers closing around Jeriah's throat and squeezing. He can see the look in her eye, the fear and the terror. She knows what she's doing but she can't stop it. Her other hand, grasps at her fingers, trying to pry them loose.

Jeriah gasps. He hadn't had time to put up a defense and his fields wouldn't have protected him from being grabbed anyway but he activates them anyway, causing her arm to heat while in the disruption field. He places one hand on her wrist but can't prise her robotic fingers open. He can't speak. She's cut off most of his air and in a couple minutes she'll crush his throat.

She can still feel him hacking though. Appropriating her systems and trying to lock out the person who has taken her over. She keeps being pulled back to specific moments. She gets the feeling someone is noting down details. Doctors. Treatments. Even the original formulation of the pathogen. Then she's pushed all the way to the end. When she is despairing. When she knows she's going to die and her only option is to lose her humanity to save her life. Is that really any better than dying?

"Shit. Jemma… focus." Jeriah croaks. His fist clenches and she can see energy around it. This may hurt…

He strikes and the strike blows her off him. At the same time he evicts her unwelcome visitor and collapses to his knees, gasping for air.

Jemma grits her teeth as her arm heats. Even if she wanted to let go, she can't.

Tears form in her eye from frustration and grief. She knows she's compromised and going to hurt Jeriah. It really can't get much worse, can it?

The feel of him though, in her mind is something of a comfort, even as she tries to hide her treatment from the infiltrator. Poor Jeriah is probably flooded with the lyrics to 'Waterloo'. The Abba version, of course.

"I'm …. trying …."

"Nnnnnnggggghhh" her hand lets go just as he hits her. "That … owwwwww." she lays sprawled on the ground for a moment before pulling herself to her knees, sobbing. Hair falling down around her face to hide it. "I I I'm sorry. Are are are you alright?"

Jeriah coughs and gasps, holding up one hand as he tries desperately to catch his breath. It takes him a solid forty seconds. "I'm…" Cough. "I'm fine…" He gasps again and pulls himself together enough to stumble the few feet over to where she is and drapes an arm around her. Well sort of 'flails' an arm around her but still.

"You okay, Jemma? I think they're gone." She can feel him in her mind, prowling almost. Looking for any trace of the attacker but they seem to be gone. He's got her secured, for now.

"You have horrible taste in music." He adds after a moment.

"Jer Jer Jeriah. I'm sorry." Jemma sniffles. It's sort of mortifying. This isn't the first time in the last few days she's done this. "Le le let me look at you …" She's turning to him as his arm lands around her shoulder and all that happens is she ends up resting against his shoulder, sniffling more.

"I … I'm alright." She's sort of not? Jeriah's punch hurt her - as did the sudden land at the end. "Who who was it. The they were looking for information on my operation. Wha wha …" He saw it, at least some of it, at least. "And there's nothing wrong with Abba."

"Yeah except it dates you and not in the fun way." Jeriah mutters. He would lean back to let her look at him but all she's doing is sniffling on his shoulder right now. So he lets her stay there, putting both arms around her to comfort her. "I don't know who it was but they were accessing you from the Triskelion somewhere and they had your master codes."

They need to DO something about that. They had enough to try to make her kill him and it would have succeeded if he'd had any fewer tools at his disposal.

"Your operation and the original infections. They could have gotten a lot from those memories."

"We we knew they had my codes. I I I didn't expect that …." Jemma's a mess as she lifts her head. Crying makes her face her all splotchy and her emotional control is at premium. Kelly must be working overtime.

"Let me look at you…" the biochem hiccups, fingers on her meat hand tilting his chin to look at his neck. It's bruised and it's no wonder his voice sounds like that.

"We … should get you somewhere where I can treat you." Dancing doesn't seem so important now. "They did. They got a lot of the formulations before I thought I to play that song."

"My place is across town." Jeriah says roughly. "We could go back to the Tri but that doesn't seem safe. Your place?" That's an option. It might not be one she likes so he'll let her make the call. It's a drive either way which means they have more walking to do. His throat feels raw but… that seems natural.

"They wouldn't need the formulations if they had access to them any other way. This is someone I think who wants this weapon without paying the people who made it."

That in turn means it's another actor. It's not AIM. It's something horrifyingly other. And they're IN SHIELD.

"My place is fine … I don't want to go back to the Tri…" Jemma shivers, still with Jeriah's arm about her shoulder. She doesn't seem inclined to shrug it off, either. "Can you stand? I'll … call an Uber." Her apartment isn't far in the scheme of things.

"And they can't find what they want in the formulations in the SHIELD database, Jeriah. Which means, they need my memory about something specific …" And that's horrifying.

"I can move yeah. Though I'd rather not run if it's all the same to you." Jeriah coughs. Uber hailed, it won't take them long to get off the street. For the time being Jeriah doesn't leave Jemma's head. He wants to know if whomever it is tries again and he's trying to figure out where it all came from. No real luck on that sadly.

He is for obvious reasons not real talky on the way home.

It's an indication of how badly Jemma was rifled and how upset she is. Jeriah keeps getting flashes of memories - some of them intimate, some of the embarrassing, some just of when she was young. The main thing he keeps seeing though is those last few hours as she lay in that medbay bed and knew she was going to die.

Yet she doesn't mention he's there and seems to to cling to it - the safety his presence offers.

Once they're into her apartment, the biochem drops her bag on the table and makes her way to the kitchen to put the kettle on. "Come come come over here, so I can look at you…" And how much damage she did. He knows she feels guilty, that's one of the memories that places most often.

It might be kind of rude at this point to argue with Jemma and in any case she has that arm. She could yank him on over if she really wanted to. And he doesn't feel like being yanked - even if he is a Yank - so over he goes to sit down on a stool.

"I think I'm gonna live, Jemma but you can look if you really insist. Honestly, it wasn't your fault, you don't have to feel so bad."

Jemma actually stops and looks at Jeriah for a fraction of a moment. "I *know* you're going to live, you'll live forever if you think you can bedevil me." The biochem finally says. She looks at the kettle for a very long moment and makes a decision, going to the fridge and pulling a bottle of wine out instead. "I don't have beer and I don't have anything stronger …"

Putting a glass in front of Jeriah as he sits at the counter, taking a big gulp from her glass as well.

"Now, let me look. I did this, whether I wanted to or not." And that was why they had come back here, wasn't it?

Tilting his chin, Jemma hisses as she see's the 'prints' of the metallic fingers. Prints and cuts. "I don't know how I didn't crush your windpipe…" she mutters, reaching for the first aid to get the antiseptic cream out.

"Are they gone from my head or are you blocking them?"

"You were told to kill me. I haven't taught you how to do that efficiently yet." Knowing what can kill someone - as Jemma does - is one thing but knowing HOW to do that is another. Jeriah takes a drink of the wine before she starts looking at him. That's going to be a huge bruise and it's going to be obvious the next time he comes into work.

"They're gone. I've modulated your communications protocols but I'm going to have to stay in your head for the time being to keep this from happening again. Don't worry. I won't leave crumbs on the floor."

"No, you haven't but you've been able to control my arm and make it do things." Jemma points out. "Which means they either didn't have full control of my arm or they didn't know how to kill someone. Both are good things to know for different reasons."

The biochem stops with her fingers feathering over the bruise, over the skin, letting a long sigh as she does. "We should report this … people are going to see you and wonder what happened but I really don't know who to trust."

"Stay… in … my … head. For how long?" She's not worried about him leaving crumbs at the moment.

"Controlling your arm with my brain is a very different proposition to controlling your arm from a command line interface." Jeriah points out. "I can just translate the movements I know you need to make. They have to rely on your knowledge and muscle memory." And she's not a fighter. Which probably saved him.

The hacker-soldier rubs his throat and pats Jemma's hand in what he hopes is a comforting manner.

"Report it to May. Tell her to keep it quiet. Let everyone else wonder. Well, maybe tell Kelly since she'll probably pick it up anyway. As for how long? Until we can be sure you're secured against this kind of intrusion again. Next time they'll have you put a knife in my back or something and be done with it. I'd rather not give them the chance."

"I see. She should have realised the connection felt different but truth be told, she was a little preoccupied and horrified at the time.

"Uh. What's the distance you can go from me before you lose connection?" Jemma's seeing all sorts of issues here. "I'll call May in a moment and send a message to Kelly. She would feel the emotional distress, if not some bleed through of the memories." Jemma shudders again, glancing up as the soldier … pats … her hand. Comforting? Maybe.

"Long as you don't go somewhere outside the of cell coverage I can stay connected." How the hacker can do that he does not say. He hasn't really gone into the ins and outs of his tech but that is a fairly impressive and truth be told rather terrifying reach. It means he could likely get her from states away. Cell coverage is pretty… ubiquitous.

"You're worried about something, I can tell." Is it her voice? The way she shudders? Or the fact that he's in her head and can hear her thinking very loudly.

"Really? And we'll both be safe?" Jemma finishes with Jeriah's neck and takes a sip of her wine.

Finally, she allows herself a few moments to process. She doesn't move from Jeriah's proximity though.

"You can, can you …." The biochem blinks, giving the hacker-soldier a look. "Lots of things. That someone could do that. I shouldn't be that easy to get into. The memories are raw again, it's not nice … reliving those hours, remembering how I felt and how others were around me."

Jemma looks down, avoiding Jeriah's eye contact as she continues. "And when you said you had to stay connected, I wasn't sure if that meant you had to stay near me. And then I wasn't sure how I felt about that …"

"It's certainly safer if I'm near you but I can do it from across town so long as the network infrastructure doesn't go down. It'd be safer if I had a satellite hook up but then you'd need one too." And she probably doesn't want to carry one of those around.

"Are you okay?" Reliving the memories of, well, dying can't have been easy, he knows that. And he knows how crystal clear machine preserved memories can be. It's almost a hallucination. Almost like being there.

"We should both be safe, yes. I can't promise anything of course. Whoever is doing this knows the game quite well."

"If you don't need to be here … " Jemma shakes her head and moves away from Jeriah, heading to the sink and starting to rinse the few dishes she had stacked on the counter. He'll know she's just doing things to keep busy. "And you're not installing a satellite dish on me…"

Is she ok? He can feel processing that. Feel the jumble of memories as they float to the surface. Poor Kelly will be feeling the tumult of emotion. "I … will be … OK. Yes." She finally answers. She's not ok at the moment but she'll try to work it out.

"Tempted to call out sick." Jeriah says rising and moving to the edge of her kitchen to watch her. He knows she's just keeping busy. It's funny how he leans on the refrigerator the same way he leans on the doorway of her lab. It's familiar. Perhaps it feels… safe.

"Do you want me to install a satellite dish on you?" That gets a small smirk. "We could get you cable. Or would you prefer HBO? You could live stream Game of Thrones during boring meetings."

Does HE do that? He certainly CAN and no one would know that the glazed over look wasn't just from the same boredom as everyone else.

"You're tempted to call out sick? You certainly could, I'd vouch for it. You could probably benefit for spending the day in bed." Jemma answers, filling the sink with soapy water so she can wash the dishes she's just rinsed. So very methodical.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to go dancing…" beat "Well, I'm sorry I dragged you from the pub …" She glances over to see him leaning there. "You seem at home…"

"And just where would you put a satellite dish on me? A fashionable hat? An extension from the brain implant, like a parasol or something? You'll have me looking like a Mechanicus, I'm sure."

"Nerrrrrrrrd." Jeriah teases. He knows what a Mechanicus is, yes. And if he hadn't it would have been easy enough to google. So many skulls. "I'm sorry you didn't get to go dancing either. We still could. Could go back out. That place is open late. Or we could just play music hear. It's big band. You have a collection. I've seen you play it in the labs."

Wartime music and from just after. It's an interesting choice for the British scientist?

"If I give you a parasol then you'll need to start dressing up like you're in Pride and Prejudice to look the part."

"What? So are you, there's nothing wrong with it. But I note you knew what I was talking about." Jemma's finishes the dishes, ensuring they stacked nicely in the rack before laying a tea towel over the top. Then she turns her attention to the counters and sink, wiping them down.

"I … I … what do you want to do?" He can tell, with that connection she's not keen on going out but if he wants to, she will.

"And speaking with Victorian phrases. Do you like Empire style dresses, Jeriah?"

"I don't know. Shall we try to image you with one and see if I do?" Oh now he's teasing. But he can also tell that she doesn't want to go out so he gestures out toward the living room. Why don't they stay here? It takes him a moment to find her turntable and records and put something on.

"Okay you've done enough housework. Sit down. You're rattled, you need to relax."

To 'relax' her he pulls up an image and starts to tinker. There's her in Empire fashion. It's not bad truth be told.

"Sir, housework is of the upmost importance. How is a young woman to attract a man of consequence if she unable to maintain her own household?" Jemma answers but lets Jeriah guide her from the kitchen. And of course Jemma has vinyl and a turntable for her music.

"Does the gentleman require sustenance? I would be pleased to call the local tavern and request a meal be forwarded post haste." He deserves this for the image that he's displaying in her head. It isn't bad. The high waist, the way the skirt falls to her ankles, the cut of the neckline … He's had to use some imagination there, surely.

The record he chooses is a Glenn Miller one. Big Band. In The Mood.

"If the Tavern serves Indian, yes. You know, from the colonies?" Jeriah chuckles as she gets all Sense and Sensibility on him. He monkeys with the picture a bit more. Adjusting the color, adding a floral print and long gloves. Then adding flowers in the hair which is put into an updo.

"There. What do you think? I'm sure we can get someone to make that for you."

"I don't know. Do young women attract men of consequence with science? It seems to me you'd be set in that department."

"I know just the place, Sir. Please let me send my maid to arrange that." Jemma's blushing as the image is played with. Breaking 'character' she reaches for her phone and places an order. "Lamb Korma? Beef Vindaloo extra hot? Butter Chicken for me."

The music is nice, the type people used to dance to in dance halls, but the volume is adjusted so it's background noise for the moment.

"Men of consequence in the sciences, I suppose you're right." The Scientist says quietly. "They make good lab and research partners, so there's that."

"Odd, then, that you don't seem to have met anyone up to your caliber." Which is to say that Jeriah hasn't seen anyone who is a research partner for Jemma. She seems to work on most of her projects alone.

"All of that sounds delicious. I do hope the maid is quick about it." He's kind of hungry. Though the tea is what he wants right now. Something to soothe his throat.

"And what exactly IS a man of consequence in your mind?"

"Maybe I have no peer." Jemma says quietly, a far away look coming to her eye as she gazes out the window. Lost for a moment in her thoughts, Jeriah won't miss the image of a brown haired man that flashes through her mind. A man in a number of different situations - studying and laughing, working in a lab - at what looks like a school… it's the same man she was with the day she was offered the job in the field …

"I had a partner, Jeriah. They got sent on assignment…" is all she says as she finishes her order and looks up. "Twenty minutes and it will be here. Is that quick enough? Oh, you want tea?"

How … did she know that?

Unfolding from the couch, the biochem finishes making the tea she started not long ago.

The question has slipping her back into 'character' "Well, a man of consequence would know how to care for his Scientist. Be a partner to her. Help her with the menial tasks, as she would help him. Someone who could the woman as well as the scientist."

Maybe she had had too much wine earlier.

"Perhaps you do not. I have certainly seen none." She's a brilliant biochemist and oh! Yes he would like tea. He doesn't think on how she might know that but if he did it would be obvious. He's in her head. And she might hear him just as he hears her.

"Tea would be good yes. With honey."

"So an all around renaissance man. They're not easy to find these days. People tend to specialize. Where do you think you might find one?"

"I know you want honey. And you like a roobius. I have one of those in the cupboard." Jemma says quietly as she works. She really doesn't think on how she knows that at the moment. It's … almost natural that she does.

"And you flatter me, sir…" The affected Victorian tones are quite good. "I know I'm smart but there's far smarter and more accomplished than I out there."

"I'm not sure you're correct in your assessment. I … don't know. What would specialise in, from that list?" Jemma sets the mug out with the tea in and pours the water, not looking at Jeriah as she does.

"If there are I haven't seen them." Jemma might not think about how she knows his tea preferences but he gives her a look as she prepares it. He doesn't SAY anything but he gives her a look. She seems to be picking up thoughts from him and he wonders how deep that goes.

"I specialize in generalization. I know how to do a little bit about a lot. Enough to be useful." Also enough to get into trouble.

"Does that make me… consequential?"

"And you don't like it too hot. I'll put a little bit of cold of wat—— " Jemma falters as she sees the look he's giving her. "What did I do wrong? I got your preferences right, didn't I…. Jeriah, you've never told me any of that, have you?"

That thoughts chased from her mind by his next statement… and the blush is real.

"Well, by my definition, I suppose it does. But you prefer leggy blondes."

"I haven't said a word about tea other than I wanted some." Jeriah says looking at Jemma. "You must have gotten that across the link. Which you shouldn't be able to." He suspects that the implants she has are rather more advanced than anyone's been willing to admit. That OR rather more extensive and he'd bet on the second before the first.

"Leggy Blo- well I suppose there is an attraction to them, but I don't know. I might be convinced otherwise."

"I … how can that be?" Jemma looks at Jeriah, pushing the cup of tea in his direction. "No I don't have any halva to go wi—-" She blinks. "Are you sure you're not putting that information in my mind? I … just know it. It feels like my other thoughts. Like you're talking to me."

Why would her implants be more extensive? Why wouldn't she have been told that? Certainly the augments to her mental agility were something that were done for Jemma specifically.

The blush just gets brighter as Jeriah teases her again. "It's not nice to tease someone like that, you know…" He *is* teasing, isn't he?

"I am positive that I am not feeding you information on purpose." Jeriah says. "You're pulling that from my head. Surface thoughts possibly." Well THAT's going to be an interesting kettle of fish isn't it. "And no of course you don't have halvah. But you really should."

He pauses to gather up his thoughts and TRY not to let them wander but he can't help but wonder if someone in SHIELD wanted to conduct some experiments on the fly or was thinking of 'upgrading' Jemma.

"That's not teasing. THIS is teasing." Jeriah says, modifying that mental image once more to one of a formal ball. She seems to have something of a Victorian streak. She should enjoy that.

"Why would anyone want to upgrade me, Jeriah?" He's not doing very well at shielding his thoughts. "And you like brunettes? I would never have guessed …"

"You could buy halvah and bring it over. I'm never home enough to have perishables like that …" Like Jeriah's going to be here a lot. Really.

She blushes again at the mental image he projects. "I thought … we were going to dance .."

It's less that he's not doing well at shielding his thoughts and more that he's really not sure how they're getting through. Which makes them quite difficult to keep to himself. She does catch a stray thought that he's not why anyone would want to upgrade Jemma but those implants WERE designed to control dead people so…

"Did you want to dance?" He says, standing up and holding a hand out.

"I … did. Yes. Are you sure you're up to it?" Jemma's blushing terribly as she takes Jeriah's hand.

"My implants might have been designed to control dead people, Jeriah, but the neural implant was my idea. If they were going to tinker with me, why not do it? I can't see how you're connection to me let's me read your thoughts. And you didn't answer my question about brunettes…"

The album he put on is still playing but a slower number, still big band but the dance won't be a vigorous.

"I'm up to a little dancing yes. We WERE gonna do that before anyway, weren't we?" And Jeriah is not terrible at it. He's no Fred Astaire but still. He can manage without stepping on her feet.

"Brunettes are nice. I can think of a few that are VERY nice. Did you have a particular one in mind?"

As to how the connection lets her read his thoughts? He has no idea. But he suspects that she's got some upgrades that AREN'T on her tech sheet.

"We were." Jemma agrees, letting him lead them slowly around her small lounge area. "But that was before I tried to crush your wind pipe." She says quietly. He's no Fred Astaire, he'll pick that up as the thought crosses her mind. Something about being able to twirl and dip her.

"You can, can you? Let me see if I can guess which ones. Kate Beckinsale, for certain. She seems like your type. And the server from the cafe we went to the other day." But one in particular?

That he'll definitely pick up as the image crosses her mind. And the blush that comes when it does.

"Well I don't know if she is, never met her, but I wouldn't complain if she were." Jeriah chuckles before twirling and dipping Jemma. Yes he saw that thought. Yes he can do that. It isn't hard after all. It's also not hard to pick up on when she pictures herself when he asks if she has anyone in particular in mind.

"Oh really?" He almost smirks as he pulls her back up.

And he doesn't drop her when the dip comes. Jemma is impressed - taken by surprise, but impressed none the less. "And who taught you to dance?" There's a smile as she looks up into his eyes "Kate Beckinsale, definitely your type. I bet you loved her in Underworld."

The first one was good, the others … not so much. And there's no psuedoscience that Jemma could yell at the screen about.

As Jeriah raises her and smirks, Jemma blushes further and the image disappears. "I … uh … "

"I did. Hard to not like her in that. Plus it's a fun little flick." Another spin. Jeriah smirks at her tendency to scream at bad science. He bets that sci-fi with her is just unbearable.

"You uh…" Now he's teasing a bit as they continue to move around her living room.

"Mmm? Oh I learned to dance years ago. Just don't have much cause to use it."

"You're laughing at me…" The blush doesn't fade as the biochem lets Jeriah lead. "You're … quite good, I suppose for a soldier."

"It was a good flick and you'll have to watch a Sci-fi movie with me to find out… I bet you're just as bad when it comes engineering …"

This … is going to be awkward if they keep reading each other like this.

"Well, do you? I mean you must, I suppose, you're here…"

"I certainly don't mind your company, Jemma, if that's what you mean. Plus you're fun when you let your hair down. Who knew that only took eight glasses of wine?" She didn't have quite that much but Jemma likely is a bit tipsy and Jeriah knows that. He watched her drink after all.

The image of Jemma in the empire dress is replaced by one of her in tight fitting black leather. JUUUST like underworld. She's got resting bitch face also. Juuuust like underworld.

"I didn't drink that much!" Jemma protests but given he says that she seems to pull back from that conversation with a non-committal "I'm glad you don't mind my company. I'm … " she shakes her head trying to find the words "… I'm just focussed normally."

And she blushes, beetroot red, as that image appears. "You've got a good imagination, Jeriah, given that I've never dressed anything like that around you." She says as dryly as possible.

"Wait until I send you one of you as Daenerys." Jeriah chuckles. "Now. Stop focusing and dance. You're probably going to wake up with a headache. So you might as well enjoy the evening, mmm?"

After all the night is still rather young and he doesn't look to be in a hurry to get anywhere. So all in all it seems rather perfect, at least for the evening. Presuming he doesn't make her blush to death.

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