2025-02-27 - A Little Trade

"The first job is you tell me all you know about a couple of people in the park," Cordova says. "That'll net you a hundred. Depending on where that information takes me? There might be more jobs and there might be more cash. Or, if you're not interested, you're not interested." He spreads his hands demonstratively. No harm, no foul.

Jett bounces a ball between his hands in a way that evokes the illusion of him talking regular business to a part visitor, while his eyes consider Cordova with a studious nature. His brown eyes are pretty much the only point of color for him, save for the uniform that he wears which is a teal shirt with purple accents and white pants. The ball in his hand lightly smacks against the palm of each hand as he motions it back and forth. "Make it a hundred per head," Jett counters the hundred for a 'couple' with one hundred per. Perhaps he doesn't think it's unreasonable at the moment to get some intel on a few people in the park.

"One hundred," Cordova says. "If the information you give me on one is worth it, I'll double it to a hundred per head." He studies Jett, from the brown of his eyes to the very distinctly ashen look outside of that, but it doesn't seem to make any sort of an impression on him, positive or negative. But then, not reacting to things is in part what he gets paid for.

"Yeah, okay," Jett says with a casual little shrug, bouncing one of the stall balls between his hands, "What's the standard of 'worth' it to you? What am I looking to find?" The inquiry has him flicking his head back to remove some of the drippy stringy feathery hair out of his face. He glances side to side to observe some of the other park guests floating down the midway and paying him little mind, or his guest at the booth. It's a typical sight, one of the midway game guys negotiating with a guest to play a game; the situation right now no matter how Cordova looks or doesn't isn't likely to factor in to anyone else noticing. Jett turns his brown eyes back to Cordova, "How much time do I have?"

"Right now? I just want anything you already know about Trace Accardi and Lorenzo Castillo. I know your friend, Gabe, is Accardi's roommate," Cordova says. "Depending on what you give me, I'll tell you what else I want to know and how much time you have to find out." He doesn't pay much mind to the other guests. He even pulls out some cash to hand to Jett and nods toward the game. Apparently he's going to pay to play while they talk.

Jett's eyebrows launch upward when Cordova mentions Gabe because up until that point his expression was wholly neutral but his eyes cannot lie when Cordova brings up that particular name. His own micro expression further draws tension for a split second around his lips and jaw. Jett looks toward the money and Jett takes it casually in return for one of the balls that he pops up off the tip of his elbow toward Cordova.

Now, the booth he's working on today is one of those frustrating mini-milk jug platform games where all the jugs have to be launched off the platform with a ball toss; rarely do all three knock off the platform with only one ball but that is the gimmick! Trading up seems to be the way to the top of the prize pot here.

Jett easily enough slips aside to give Cordova room enough to throw if he wishes to fully enact out the whole ordeal. "I imagine you know more about him than I do, since you know his last name-" he also points out, "I don't know Loren---" he squints, "You mean Enzo right?" He rolls his eyes, "He's kind of a blow hard and thinks he can pull any one with his face card." He shrugs and leans on the counter with one hand bracing him up palm along the edge, "Trace is a pyrotech here at the park, but I'm sure you know that. He doesn't like ketchup on eggs, he hasn't been to Hawaii and was like once a violinist." He deadpan glances over to Cordova, "If you are a cop... I ain't no rat."

If Cordova notices the expression shift, he gives no indication behind those sunglasses that he wears. He takes the ball that's handed to him and he tosses it in one hand up and down, catching it as they talk. He doesn't yet throw it at the milk jugs, but it seems he does intend to play the game, if not in any particular hurry to do so.

"Yes, I mean Enzo," Cordova says and listens as Jett comments on the man. "Anything else?" he asks. Then he listens as Jett describes Trace. "You seem to know more about him than Enzo. What else can you tell me about him?"

He then takes the ball and flings it at the milk jugs. As expected, only two go over, the third remaining standing. "I'm not a cop. And if I were, I'd have to identify myself as one before asking the questions." He then hands over the cash for another ball.

Jett considers Cordova at the inquiry if there was anything else, "I honestly just met them, once, officially. I know they're a couple or whatever." Jett raises his eyebrows a little bit, "I wouldn't say that. I didn't figure you for a guy who would jump to conclusions..." Jett sort of gives him a once over, as if now skeptical of who Cordova was really. But as easily he notes, "Enzo is a PR guy around here, joined up in October." He's pretty sure the employment records could be figured out online, especially if Enzo had a social media account - everyone brags about where they work if they like where they work after all! "He talked about a recent wedding shit show that he helped clean up, figuratively speaking," he adds that in as if remembering Enzo's words about messes, "I mean it's all relative to what you want to know."

He watches the throw toward the milk jugs. Jett is not surprised when only two are knocked over. He goes to reset the milk jugs and picks up one of the dinkiest little fucking stuffies ever - these things are so disappointing. "Lobster or the monkey?" Random booth toys. He eyes the cash and upnods as he takes it with his knuckles while still offering the 'small' prize to Cordova.

Cordova listens impassively to the information that Jett provides him, which isn't very much, but he seems satisfied with whatever it is that he said, because he reaches out and this time when he pays for another ball to throw he hands Jett the cost of the ball and then the fifty for Enzo. "Right now," Cordova says, "I want to know anything that you know in general." Which is what Jett is giving him, and he seems fine with that.

"Lobster," he says, of the two small prizes, taking the tiny stuffed lobster. He seems more like a lobster kind of guy. Then he says, "And Trace? Accardi? What else can you tell me about him, anything?"

He waits for a little longer and takes whatever information Jett is able to give him. Then he counts out the cash and he gives Jett the hundred he was promised. "If you think of anything else that's useful in the next week or so, let me know." And then he departs with his small stuffed lobster.