French Jackson

Whirrr.. the bag carousel whirred as the carrier threw luggage up the ramp.  LGA. the tag read.  a thin tawny hand with a gold bracelet whiskered up the bag and threw the strap across her bosom, arching up and briskly walking towards the exit, to a cab outside.

It had been three days from any communique from the crew, radio silence and all that.. and there was just a single chatter this morning on signal.  "gazzinkt."  yeah it was code.  the kind that starts with agent and ends in a toffee ice cream or some such gooey nonsense.

'

It was silly using signal, as they were all trained telepaths.. but it was good in a noisy pinch anyway..  OUCH!

She spun around, noisily from a pinch from behind,

Aria!  Great you made it.

umm.  We weren't expecting you at the airport, and so early.  Thanks for the wakeup call though

It was French Jackson, FR for short, and he was a medium build character that was always about to look away when he was talking with you.  It seemed as if he had a story written on the inside of his eyelids.. shy, but a good fellow to have in a brawl.  and he was Aria's bodyguard for the shoot starting mid morning.  He was the nightclub type and loved his gin and tonics.. or mostly just tonics these days.  got to please the weeeze, or some such nonsense he would say out loud

Why the character assassination, Aria?  I read that last paragraph and it was nonsense.

This was surreal.  Q's fictional characters often critizied his work and jumped over each others lines in real time.  I mean it was fine in his studio apartment, but this was the airport near rio, and Q, while mildly looking it over from half a world away, felt that Aria had it right.. I mean.. we could have chosen a better bodyguard yonks back, but the series was just starting out and the characters were only introduced 10 minutes ago.

Well enough of that, you'll do find FR.

Thank you Aria.  

"Well anyway, the floors are creeping up and it feels a bit like peanut butter and jellish sandwich again, what do you think"

Great.  I'll take the bags..

I've got this one, she tucked her purse up to her side and they were off..

....

sunbeam headlines in the thrusts of oncoming cars found prismatic light shows coming at them like a west portal dance club they would once frequent.  the gin, back then.

whoooooosh..    click.  whirrrrrrk.  knock knock

the car pulled into the slip, the house door opened, and as they walked in, ice was being crushed in an industrial blender, and more people were starting to arrive at the party.

"Let's see how this thing is going to get on"  as FR pushed back at the crowd starting to form near the door.  

Ow ummm.. errr its me!  don't be so pushy.

sorry madam.

IT's not madam, its georgina, your pal from the show last August.  you're doing thin without the gin.  good keep it up!

"Well yes. that is a thing," he loosened up. you're looking quite all rightious yourself.  its a wonder you made it up to rio.   weren't you flittereing near berkeley in the summers?  god that was  great party wasn't it..  slim had his set down, and patting down the ladies at the door was a pleasure, except that young gal who tried to kill herself in the bathroom.  

Oh yes.. betty.. she's fine.. she's just like that.. I think she was out of pills that night.  

O yes. I remember the pale blue eyes.

Well anyway.. I was her dealer. we all felt bad about it.

<laugh.> alright get in there.  I've got to get some things out of the car, said french as he took his exit

.....