The Last Warrior † WINCHESTER

[02] c u r i o s i t y

When Jack arrives in Rockford, it's already past nightfall. In all honesty, she blames the slow Cabriolet, mentally scolding herself for stealing a car that could potentially stop running any minute now. She checks into a motel a couple blocks away from her target, the infamous asylum she's come to investigate, and sorts through her hunting material before heading to the place where the town residents tend to talk about recent events.

The local bar.

Jack needed more information if she wanted to get the upper hand on this case, and she needed the info fast. So, what better place to get the scoop than the place where everyone goes to drink their sorrows away?

Okay, now down to business. She changes into some faded jeans, a simple black v-neck, and Converse that match her tee in color. Donning on her jacket and discreetly slipping a knife into her waistband, she drives the eight minutes it takes to get to the pub. Jacqueline ignores the side glances she receives when she enters, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders as she takes a seat on a barstool. The young barkeep, who's blonde and seemingly in his mid-twenties, gives Jack a smile that's just a bit too flirty to be friendly.

"What'll it be?"

Jack waves him away, her focus on two men sitting at a table nearby. "Gimme a sec," she amends when she looks back to the bartender's face. "Thank you."

Her ochre eyes settle back on the scene behind her, watching the older man first. She recognizes his face, having seen it in the paper this morning. This has to be Officer Gunderson, Kelly's partner. Well, was Kelly's partner. The second man, definitely younger and very attractive, had shaggy brown hair. He sits, listening patiently as the cop talks to him in a low voice. The younger man seems very absorbed in the tale, and Jack smiles to herself without even realizing it. She continues to watch their exchange with interest, trying not to stare for too long. 

Finally, after what felt like ages to Jack, Gunderson leaves. As the brunette checks something on his cell phone, she quickly makes her move. In a very casual manner, she sits down across from him and turns her charm on; a skill she had to acquire since, in reality, she was anything but charming.

"He's had a rough couple of days," she starts, head tilted towards the door that the officer just walked out of.

He frowns sympathetically, letting out a small sigh. "Yeah, from what I heard." To Jack's relief, instead of getting up, he settles back into his chair and stares at her curiously. 

Jack takes that as her cue, waving at the barman with a smile. "Two beers, please," she calls, and he nods back almost bitterly. She knows what he must be thinking. The guy across from her is one lucky son of a bitch to have gotten her attention. Now Jack sorta feels bad that she's gonna grill the cute brunette. He looked like a pretty nice guy, around her age. This close, she could finally see the color of his eyes. Hazel.

Speaking of, the guy lets out a chuckle. "Two?" he asks, lips turned up in amusement.

Jack beams at him. "It's called being friendly." She extends her hand. "I'm Lola."

He easily slips his hand into hers, giving a firm yet gentle squeeze. "Sam."

Jack gives an almost imperceptible nod in reply. She likes the name; suited him. Playing on her gut feeling, she leans forward a bit and crosses her fingers on top of the table. "So, Sam, what brings you to Rockford?"

He winces, pretending to be hurt at being found out. "Is it that obvious I'm not from here?"

Bingo. Jack shrugs nonchalantly. "Just a bit. That, and the fact I've never seen you here before," she says truthfully. Sam smiles, his eyes briefly taking in his surroundings just as the barman comes up to their table and sets the beers in front of their faces.