She's not (quite) showing yet. That's a good thing, as far as she's concerned, because it means that she isn't being swarmed by cooing older women asking her when she's due and if she's picked out a name yet, and all that other garbage that young pregnant women have to deal with.

She can't wait for nine months to be over. Finally she'll be rid of the damn parasite and can get on with her normal life... There are still eight to go, unfortunately for Jetta. (And Teague.)

Why the museum, today? Because she's bored, tired, and she doesn't want to have to deal with her "friends" and their attempts at consolation. (Which usually include suggestions to have an abortion, which she's already thought of and can't act upon.)

Nothing like adversity to make one realize who one can really count on, hm? Funny how she hasn't found anyone to count on yet. Funny how that doesn't particularly matter, yet.

She's dressed remarkably modestly for her, in a shirt that actually covers her entire torso and reveals a minimum of cleavage--though, granted, it's still a flattering color and cut--and a skirt that goes all the way down to her midcalf. The shoes are still the ankle-breaking variety, however. She hasn't reformed so much as attempted to make certain that anything possibly showing is hidden.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Nick said, pointing at the exhibit. "They just got it set up. I think it's very nice."
He had a pleasant sort of pseudo-british accent, the sort one might hear in American movies from the thirties, depicting the genteel tribulations of the upper class.
He had quite recovered from encountering Araceli here, enough to actually come back, and had been delighted to discover that someone else (apparently) shared his interest.
He was not terribly impressed with her choice of attire...while the clothes might have fit flatteringly, Nick thought that the way young women portrayed themselves these days was decidedly unflattering. Still, it was the culture...he hadn't shied away from the young woman in all that leather, either.
Even so, if he'd seen one of Jetta's usual outfits, he probably would have been scandalized.

Probably. He'd probably have been even more scandalized by the way she acts in those usual outfits, don't you think?

She answered before she actually looked at him. "I guess. It's not really my kind of thing; I like the older artists better." Mostly because they usually portrayed nude young men with the most lovely bodies.

Somehow, being pregnant makes her less interested in seducing every guy who comes across her path. But... That doesn't mean she's reformed entirely, yet. And with a glance at Nick, she's quite impressed and flashes him that lovely smile of hers.

He tipped his hat at her, only a bit, still keeping it firmly over his eyes, and smiled back.
"Do you mean old old, like Michelangelo, or lie the early nineteen hundreds?"

"Old old."

Mmm, nudes... Mmm, attractive guy with a nice accent and a mysterious coat...

But no, seduction would be inappropriate in the museum. And with Teague keeping an eye on her, sort of, she didn't particularly want to start any new liasions.

"I could show you that exhibit...it's one of the moving ones, I think, gets thing cycled through from other museums. There are one or two originals now, and some charming reproductions."
Mysterious hat, too, don't forget.

"Well then, why don't you show me?"

Okay, maybe she'll flirt. It's not like he's going to be disgusted by her bloated state for a couple months yet. (And she might be projecting her own feelings on the rest of the world, and then again, she might not.)

Is he going to take her arm, or is he smarter than that?

He's going to offer her his arm. He'll very rarely touch anyone with his hands, because they're cold and have a tendency to feel no more substantial than cobwebs.
"If you'll follow me, then..." he murmured, inclining his head.

"Oh, certainly."

One wonders if he can manage to make more parts of himself solid than just his hands. One also has an incredibly dirty mind, and probably no one else wants to hear the answer to that question.

When he makes anything solid, he makes all of him solid...just not usually very solid.
There are those who claim to have had sex with ghosts, you know.

Nick led the way to the aforementioned exhibit, and waved his hand expansively.
"There."

I can't imagine that it would be all that much fun, for the ghost or the living person...

"Mm, nice."

She's not actually looking at the exhibit. Once a slut, always a slut, it seems.

Well, one must bear in mind that these are also the people who claim to have been abducted by aliens.
"Yes, quite." he replied. He actually was looking at the paintings.

Well... there's magic. Why not aliens? (Other than the whole interstellar travel thing being highly unlikely... despite theories to the contrary.)

"You have a name, honey?"

And here we go again.

"Nicholas." he replied distractedly, engrossed in the examination of a painting that had something to do with angels.

"A pleasure to meet you, Nicholas. I'm Jetta."

And she looked at the pictures now, though she was more interested in the real, solid boy (hah!) to her left than she was in any specimen of paint and canvas, no matter how handsome he might be.

I wonder how Jetta would react to the revelation that he's a 114-year-old dead boy?

"A pleasure, Jetta." he said with a smile, turning to give her his full attention. He always gives a lady (ha!) his full attention.

Not well. At all.

He has a nice smile for a dead boy, though. Very nice.

"You know much about art?"

Hey, she's into the classy types.

Well, actually, she's into any type, as long as he's attractive and doesn't have any inconvenient nosy relations to get in the way.

"A little...as I may have mentioned before, mostly the art of the early nineteen-hundreds and the twenties."
And, if you knew what he was, that wouldn't be a surprise. He'd probably drunk champagne with some of the more prominent artists of the time.

"Fascinating. Is it a hobby or your job?"

He looks old enough to have a job like that. And she doesn't often go for the older ones--younger ones being easier to manipulate--but a challenge is always fun...

She's almost forgotten that she's pregnant, right at the moment.

"Hobby..." he said, looking a bit edgy. They were moving into uncomfortable areas, like what was his job, or why didn't he have one?

Jetta, like Bo, enjoys edgy.

"Have a lot of time for it?"

She likes secrets, too. He looks like he has a few.

"Sure..."
He should have introduced himself as Jay. He really should have.

Well, it's not like she's going to recognize his name. She doesn't go strolling through cemetaries or anything of that sort...

"What kind of a job d'you have?"

"Nnn..."
A little noise of distress, there.
"I, ah...um...I work at a...a bank."

"Does it pay well?"

Aw, he's so cute and distressed. She'll have to make sure he stays that way; boys are so much easier to manipulate when they're off balance.

"Certainly." He frowned. He had never held a bank job and had no idea how one would pay.

"Good. You can take me out for coffee."

Well, that was abrupt.

"Er."
Problem: Nicholas doesn't have any money that isn't already in a bank...and he can't very well go to a bank without ID, saying that he's the dead Jordan heir, and could he make a withdrawal please?
"I'm afraid my hours don't permit."

"You aren't working now, are you?" she pointed out, crossing her arms and frowning at him.

Now, now, boy, behave and take the nice girl (eh heh) out for coffee. Or she'll turn into a not-so-nice girl and make you sorry.

Jetta would get along well with Araceli, I think.

"No, but I will be shortly." Nick replied, keeping his cool with an effort. Careful now, Jetta, Nick gets defensive...

"How shortly?"

What's he going to do, yell at her? Jetta can take that, and give everything back, without batting an eye.

Of course, if he pulls one of those rather scary supernatural things, it might well be a different story.

He looked at an imaginary watch. "Let's see...oh, right about...now."
And he turned to go.

Jetta does not like being so summarily dismissed.

"Hey, now, honey, did I say you could just walk away from me like that?"

She attempted to grab his arm and pull him back around.

He solidified enough for her to feel his arm and not pull his coat off him, but it was a near miss.
"I beg your pardon?" he said politely, but with a distinct coolness to his tone. "I shall walk wherever I please."
Somehow, his eyes have become visible, even through the shadow of his hat. Either they're glowing, or...
Well, they're just an odd color. Really.

"Well aren't we high and mighty."

Stupid guy. Didn't want him anyway. He's too full of himself. Doesn't know how to treat a girl, anyway.

And his eyes are not glowing.

"Apply yourself instead to the question of which one of us is low." He retorted nastily.
Nope. Not glowing. And they didn't just get brighter, either.

And she wasn't even wearing one of her remarkably immodest outfits.

She smiled tightly. She always smiles.

"Low is a matter of opinion, honey."

Oh, of course they didn't. And Jetta's not getting just slightly nervous because they're doing strange things, either.

((*too lazy for PM* She should slap him.))

Interesting, isn't it, that they both are (or were, in Nick's case) rich brats?
"You've heard mine. Look at yourself." Now he sounded disgusted. "Tramping about like a common whore. Your clothes are well-made, clearly expensive, I'd have expected you to have more class."

The expression on her face went from fake-friendly, angry smile, to murderous in about two tenths of a second.

Jetta can take a lot of things, but being called what she is--a whore--is not one of them. She didn't bother to answer, but dropped his arm with an air of dropping a venomous snake and swung her hand at his face.

Jetta's slaps are things to remember, when they happen. Usually they hurt quite a bit.

I'm sure they hurt when you actually have nerve endings.
I wonder what Jetta thought when her hand went straight through his face.