Shine On, You Crazy Diamond - Robert Downey and Jimmy Sullivan
Who: iknowthings - Robert Downey Jr, res_show - Jimmy Sullivan
Where: Downey Enterprises
When: October 6, shortly after this
It's not as if he can go back to the- the hive, as Jimmy had called it, not when he's already been talking to Gerard and Frank and Bob-not-Robert (and Mikey, who was weirdly hot, but that's beside the point). And besides, there are at least another two people to talk to in this very building that he'd like to talk to, one of whom is the aforementioned Robert Downey, Jr. From what Gerard had said about Robert's little playmate, Jimmy already knows that he's not going to get to talk to Jessica, and maybe that's not a bad idea.
"You wait right there, good-looking. I'll talk to you in a second." Jimmy tips a wink at the first security guard when he breezes by on his way to the receptionist desk. Whatever bazillions of dollars he's making can wait; Jimmy's sure of it. Addressing the camera that he knows is watching him, he drolls, "Robert, hi. How are you gentlemen! Keeping the kitty away from the sockets?"
Robert doesn't actually get that message, of course. Instead, the receptionist logs the readings from the biometric scan and from the database determines who it is that is standing there. "Can I help you?" The receptionist finally asks.
"I need to see Mr. Downey. Hi, hello?" Jimmy makes faces at the camera, waving his iMac at it. "Tell him it's about his pet. The cat. Jessica? Jessica Stam. It's serious business."
At the mention of Ms. Stam, a button is pushed and two very large, very broad men in dark suits appear behind James Sullivan, their arms folded over their massive chests.
"ID?" The receptionist asks, blandly.
This isn't quite what Jimmy'd had in mind. For some (stupid, so fucking stupid, stupid like the ACME dynamite that Wile E Coyote would get) reason, he thought it would have been a lot easier than this. But he digs up his driver's license, sliding it across the desk to the receptionist. He wishes vaguely she was Janine from Ghostbusters. That would be boss. "You wanna search my shit, go ahead. I'm not about to go up there and bust a cap in his very, very rich ass." His credentials check out; he didn't even bother to bring his gun. He'd left it with Gerard and Frank, knowing that if he was packing, there'd be no way to get up and talk to Downey. Period. "Swear on my mother's honour, I'm not gonna do anything stupid."
Another blank smile and Sullivan's ID is swiped and handed back, and the security behind him doesn't move. The receptionist puts some information into the computer and finally, a box pops up on Robert's screen.
Looking away from the close of the Asian market, Robert scans what he's been given. Hitting a key on his keyboard, he asks, "Find out what he wants."
Turning to Sullivan, the receptionist asks, "May we know the manner of your business?"
"Jessica Stam. Michael Patton. A potential threat to Mr. Downey's life. You know, the regular stuff a dude like Bob would go through." Bob, yes indeed. Jimmy just went there. "Being rich and famous and dashingly handsome and all that biz." He scratches the back of his head, making his hair stick up, and puts on his best sunshine face for the receptionist. "Look, punkin pie. I wouldn't be here dealing with the stiff if I there wasn't serious biz going on." Just to prove a point, just to get Robert's blood boiling, he tips his head toward the camera. "He waterboarded her, and threatened to fuck her with a club with fish lures in it. Gonna let me up now, Bob?"
Not exactly. As a matter of fact, the two men grab Sullivan by the arms and pull him into a small, bare room with a only a two-way mirror in it. He's tossed into a chair and his hands are handcuffed behind his back and the men stand back. If Sullivan looks closely, he can see a shifting behind the glass and nothing more, before a voice booms into the room.
"How exactly did you figure that strategy would work?" Robert asks, legitimately curious, his arms crossed, head cocked. "Why are you here?"
"Y'let me in, didn't you? C'mon, Wizard of Oz, come out from behind the curtain! Let me see the great and powerful Downey." He takes a minute, going quiet, and then there's the audible sound of breaking bones. "Augh. Mother. That's better, anyway." And after shaking out his hands, Jimmy folds them in front of him, the handcuffs dangling from one wrist. "I wanted to talk to you about a certain shitlist that you're on after putting a number of holes in one Michael Allan Patton." Jimmy rocks back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "So do I get to look at my studly self while talking to you, or do I get to meet the man, himself?"
The security move back in, taking an arm each (despite how gross it is that he just did what he did.) Robert's voice comes over the speaker again. "I ask again. What. Do. You. Want."
"Actually? You asked why I was here, so I said, 'because you let me in', duh." Jimmy resigns himself to the handholding that Downey's guys seem to want to partake in. "Look. You know what happened to the cat, right? With the shocks and the water and the samples. Because of what you did, you're on the elite list of people 'scheduled for immediate termination'. I just wanted to give you a heads-up that they're expecting it, and that I have no intention of doing it. But you might wanna beef up your security a little more." He glances up at Thing 1 and Thing 2, before addressing the mirror again. "Damn, I'm good-looking. How's the pet, anyway? Not letting her chew on any cords, huh?"
Even if Sullivan can't see it, Robert's jaw is working, his hands balled into fists. "Who do you work for?"
"Them. The people who sent Patton after her in the first place. He was gonna kill her, right? You know that. He had no intention of giving her back to you. If he got what he wanted from her, he would have just left her like garbage for you, and that fuckin' blows. Thing is, I don't wanna work for them anymore. They gave me fuckin' Patton's job, and I suck at making things die. Unless it's a plant. Except if it's weed, I'm aces at growing that kind of green. But yeah, I kill plants like an awesome thing. But not so much with the gun, you know?" Jimmy shuffles his feet on the floor, regarding the mirror with cool blue eyes. "So, Great and Powerful Oz, are you gonna grace me with your presence, or am I gonna have to beg and whine?"
There's a moment of nothing before a wall shifts and slides open and Robert steps in, watching Sullivan with cold eyes from behind his glasses. The security hold their "guest" tighter as Robert stands a few feet away. Sullivan's iMac is brought in and left on the floor and still Robert stares. "So what do you want from me?"
"I figure since you're Captain Awesome of Awesomeland for having the balls to shoot that asshole point-blank, that you'd want to know that there've been... repercussions. And that if I don't get the shit done, someone else might try." He points at his computer with the toe of one of his Dravens. "All the info's on there, dude. If you want all the files, have at 'em. Your assistant is in there. You are. Your pet. Your boyfriend. The shitheads that live downstairs. The fire guy. And..." Jimmy pauses, trying to remember who else. "Phillippe, I think his name is. I really, totally don't want to kill anyone. Blood makes me pass out. Or puke."
With barely a movement, Robert gestures for the computer to be handed to him. It doesn't take long to figure that Sullivan isn't lying. "You haven't told me what you want."
Jimmy rolls his eyes. For a guy who's supposed to be so fucking smart, ugh. He speaks slowly, so Robert might get it this time. "I. Wanted. To. Warn. You. War is coming, man. They want a bullet in your head, and I'm supposed to put it there. Now, I'm taking the messenger role and just letting you know that since I'm being sweet and kind enough not to blow your supposedly brilliant brains out, that someone else might try. Also, since you're the Great and Powerful Oz, can I get a ride back to Kansas? Or at least, a hotel room where they won't know I've totally let the Jessica out of the bag?" Jimmy's smile is insulting, crooked. "I mean, cat."
It happens so quickly that Sullivan is still smirking when Robert is yanking him by the hair to snarl in his face. "You are not generous. You are a piece of shit who has something and you want something. You want my protection. Is that it?" And he leans closer, hissing. "Don't say that name again."
"Jessica? Jessica Stam? Jessica Marie Stam? Did you know what her middle name was? Do you know how old she is? Do you even know when her birthday is?" Jimmy grins up into Robert's face, not intimidated in the slightest. "Ooh, and you sweet-talk me so good, baby. Please note: I didn't say shit about being generous. I said I'm being awesome for not blowing your brains out, in fear I might lose my wicked sushi lunch over it. Also, just as a note? I can protect myself just fine. I just don't want to go back to the busy little beehive that's Lindemann Insurance, dude. Do you think those little hats made out of tin foil actually work, to keep brainwaves out?"
With a hiss and a roll of his eyes, Robert steps back. He doesn't even spare Sullivan another look before he leaving, and taking the computer with him.
"Hey, hey! I need that shit back!" Jimmy calls after Robert. "It's got all my porn on it!" Again, he looks up at Thing 1 and Thing 2. "Hey ladies, can you let me go now? I promise I won't misbehave..." He puts on his best "aw shucks" expression, tugging lightly against the hold these two gorillas have on him. "Seriously, though. I need that laptop back. He can copy off whatever he wants. I just need it when he's done." Jimmy raises his voice to a trill, just in case Downey can still hear him. "Baby? I know I said some mean things, but I'm sorry! It's not you, it's me! Just gimme the laptop back?"
He's given no response for five, then ten minutes. Then, abruptly, he's hauled to his feet and 'escorted' back out to the lobby where the receptionist hands the security man his computer. Then he's not so kindly pushed toward the door and outside, his re-entrance blocked by those same men, his laptop held out for him to take.
Jimmy tucks it under his arm, getting up on his toes so he's even taller than his ridiculous almost-six-and-a-half-feet. "Shine on, you crazy diamonds! Thanks a mil! Let's do lunch!" It is now officially time to get the fuck out of here. Fast. Before Downey sics the dogs on Jim. Or the bees. Or the dogs that shoot bees out of their mouths when they bark. What the fuck.