Roughly On Par with the Cakemaker of Kiev

Where the hell was her gun?! Parker snarled, and then found it tucked in the waistband of her pajamas. Already, this was not one of her favorite mornings ever. And she knew who to blame.

"Did Jarod put you up to this?" She whipped the gun around, and ... fell out of the bed. Jesus, this morning.

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Eliot looked at the gun and sighed. "Put that damn thing away before I take it from you."

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Oh god oh god oh god, the white folks had already started drawing guns. Noah was gonna be lucky if he just ended up shot and not lynched, burned, tarred, feathered, or some combination of the above.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, suh," he said, his accent thick and voice full of barely repressed fear. "I ain't sure what done happen, an' I ain't mean to intrude, but I could jes' get myself outta here an' I won't cause no trouble, no suh, I ain't."

Edited Date: 2017-07-15 04:20 pm (UTC)

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Miss Parker gave him a sour look and said, "I'm not stopping you, Jethro. Scram." She gestured with the gun. "He's the one I have a problem with." Since the other guy was the one who seemed way too calm for the goddamn situation. "Do you have any idea where the hell we are?"

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"Yes'm," Noah said, bobbing his head. "Sorry, ma'am. Ain't mean to interfere in your conversation, ma'am. An' this is Georgia, ma'am, ain't far from my massa's plantation, Macon."

He was trying to scramble out of the bed, his back a welter of scars and ink.

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"What in the hell." His back was the convincing part, that this wasn't a joke or a set-up that he was participating in. Miss Parker was now pointing the gun at the floor and staring at the guy, because she knew she was a bitch but seriously. Crazy? Or victim? This had Jarod written all over it, so could be both.

"Jesus. I don't even know what to say to that." She paused for a long minute, then, in a calmer voice told him, "I'm not mad at you. So yeah. Take a breath. Leave if you want to. Or, you know, stick around while I deal with this guy. Whatever you want."

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"I'se gon' leave jes' as soon as I can find me my pants, ma'am," Noah said, practically groveling. He was also very carefully keeping his eyes averted, so she didn't think he was ogling her in her undress. She was mad at the white fella now, but it wouldn't take much to draw her ire instead. He was regretting mentioning the name of Massa Tom's plantation. "You an' this gentleman here can sort things out 'mongst yourselves."

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Miss Parker kind of hated obsequiousness, but again, this guy Noah was an extreme and weird case that probably wouldn't respond the way Broots did, with quiet snark that she was meant to miss. So she was left at loose ends at how to respond to that.

And then there was Cowboy Spencer dealing with the gun and all, and she finally just gave up on the whole situation until she had food and better clothing. Ugh.

"Food. Coffee." She snapped her fingers at him out of habit, then grimaced, stopping herself. "Sorry. Just." Argh. "I'm not ordering you to get me any. I'm not ordering you to do anything, ignore me if I'm a bitch, everyone I work with knows I'm horrible. I'm getting food, and coffee, and this guy is apparently not evil, so. Join us if you want to. Or not."

Christ, she could use a drink.

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Noah was already trying to scramble out of bed. This was clearly one of those white women who liked to believe they were 'egalitarian,' giving orders and then phrasing them as 'requests' to make themselves feel better. "Yes ma'am, of course ma'am, I'se gon' get you somethin' right away."

Look, he'd woken up in bed between her and a white man, either of which could get him lynched. Last thing he was going to do was piss either of them off more.

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Yeah. Giving up. Screw Jarod and this whole situation. Miss Parker stormed out of the room, resolving to get away from these people as soon as she could. With her damn gun.

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Miss Parker gave him an insulted look, and slid backward. Thank god satin pajamas made that easier, but no, she did not put down the gun. "Excuse you. I asked you a question." She squinted over at the other guy, who was looking as freaked out as she was, then glanced around in paranoia. "Are there cameras in here?"

Edited Date: 2017-07-15 06:34 pm (UTC)

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Eliot looked briefly insulted. "No, there aren't any cameras in here."

Then he snapped his arms up and out, to knock the woman's aim away from any people and towards the wall, then grab onto the gun and snatch it from her hands.

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"Sonuvabitch," she hissed, shaking out the sting in her fingers from that blow, and backing away another step, much warier now as she got to her feet. She was a couple inches taller than Eliot in her bare feet. Her eyes darted around, cataloging the room. "What do you want?" And how soon were you going to let down your guard so she could rush you?

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Yeah, honey, you just pulled a gun in his bedroom. Eliot's guard wasn't going to be dropping any time soon.

He ejected the gun's magazine and popped the round from the chamber in one smooth move -- then couldn't figure out what to do with them. He usually just tossed them away, but then, he usually wasn't doing this in his bedroom.

"What do I want? Well for one thing, I'd like to know who the fuck are you and what happened to my damn girlfriend." He tipped his head back to Hardison. "And boyfriend. But I'm guessin' neither of you have any goddamn clue either because this fucking island hates us."

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"The Island. Hates you," Miss Parker said in a flat voice. "Okay. Jarod, I am going to kill you for this bullshit when I catch up with you."

When all else fails, blame the psycho in your life, right?

Some of the rest of what Eliot said had penetrated by now, so playing along, Miss Parker asked (albeit reluctantly), "Who's your girlfriend? And... boyfriend? Well. Aren't we the lucky one."

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"Not just now, no." Eliot raised an eyebrow. "And I asked you first, lady." She wasn't clearly panicking, like not-Hardison over there was, so he didn't much feel just now like playing nice.

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"Miss Parker," she said with a small ironic smile. "And you are?" Because she'd already picked up on the fact that this was a dangerous person Jarod had landed her with, but she was beginning to wonder if the guy was on the same page as the pretender.

It wasn't really Jarod's style to traumatize someone who didn't deserve it, either, so what was the other guy doing here?

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"Miss Parker?" Eliot repeated. "Damn. It musta skipped me this time." He shook his head. "Eliot Spencer." He flashed her his creepy grin. "I ain't got any idea who your 'Jarod' is, but you are in way over your head."

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Parker might admit this guy was dangerous to herself (that move with the gun spoke of way more experience than she wanted to deal with) but there was no way she'd ever admit to being in over her head. "Spencer." Fine. The second she got a hold of Broots, she was running a background check on this guy and finding all his weaknesses. "I'm not the one missing people in my own home, am I?" She smiled back at him, as nastily as possible. "Tell me - us - what the fuck is going on here, cowboy."

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"What the fuck's happening if I get to baby sit your sorry ass for the weekend to make sure I get my Parker back in one piece. Which means, first off." Eliot held up the unloaded gun and made a show of dismantling it piece by piece. "No guns.

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Miss Parker's face held a snarl for a minute, then faded to almost total blankness. What Eliot's Parker did on reflexive default, this Parker had taught herself to do through strong motivation.

"I don't need anyone to protect me, cowboy. Not if they just tell me where the target is." Her eyes flicked to the disassembled gun, and she set her teeth. She focused on the newest bit of information. "The weekend? I have to spend two days with you jokers?"

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Eliot's eye twitched faintly at being called "cowboy" in that tone. "That's how long it's lasted before. But you ain't gonna find any 'targets' here."

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Miss Parker noted that, and decided that she was going to get her gun back. And make Spencer's eye twitch as much as possible for as long as she was here. "Oh really. And where is here? Some dude ranch in hicksville? The last thing I remember I was in New Orleans." If Jarod set this up, the guy would already know that. Which lead to: "What did that psycho do to Broots and Sydney?" Well. Mostly Broots. Sydney was probably just stranded in a five-star suite somewhere.

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"Lady, your interrogation skills need work." Eliot rolled his eyes. "'Here' is my place on Fandom Island. Maryland. And your name droppin' don't mean a goddamn thing to me."

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