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TEXT, UN: ░░░░░░
Getting comfortable, folks? I hope you're happy with the jobs you've been given at our raunchy local businesses ... I have some information coming your way next month with my first report for Backdoor Entry, you might be interested -
Do you want a sneak peek?
Hasta luego readers
Do you want a sneak peek?
CAUGHT RED-HANDEDLet me know what you think since I'm open for suggestions ... Lately, have you seen anything downright dirty, delicious, or diabolical? Dish out the gossip and you'll get a nice reward
Bloody New Arrival Found with Foreign Contaminant on Clothes, Claims "It's Not Mine!"
PERVERSE ACTIVITY FORCING ELUVIO TO "HOLD IT IN"
Local Lavatory Expert Spotted Leaving Men's Washroom After Disturbing Sounds Overheard!
ELUVIO BOASTS STATE OF THE ART REVIVAL TECHNOLOGY
Unwilling Source States "Dead Back Home", the Impossible is Possible!
Hasta luego readers
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(BOTH ARE HORRIBLE.
getting down from the low roof of the nearest bodega-like corner store, not too far away. she's preferred to stick relatively close to her room, staying within a level of it.)
Just meet me at the bar you were at when I skipped your first invite ...
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( he's not even really offended so much as not willing to rep something called Icy Balls for more than one like, drinking session. )
Sure, sure, me and Makkachin will head on out that way soon.
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(they're kind of hilarious.
staring down at the text message with a squint as she glides along, avoiding the odd stare of strange-formed aliens and androids that make her wary. but more than that, this is more important:)
Why are you bringing your dog to a bar?
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I don't want to leave him stuck in that tiny room all alone!
( hence a man and his dog will go out drinking yet again, which, frankly, has become enough of a pattern that the dog in question simply shoves under the table and makes himself comfortable out of the way of wandering, tipsy feet. in fact, he's ignoring his wrist comm as he ruffles Makkachin's fur and checks that they're both read. maybe he needs to get Makkachin dogtags of his own...
... it's such a military feeling, and he frowns, though he still has his assigned tags with him as he heads out. )
ACTION
sombra slips into the bar with no trouble, with a flash of identification and a playful word to the bouncer, leaving her staring at the littered expanse of seating, the curving bar, a bright dance floor not yet occupied, and the place she wants to go — a small booth at the far corner of the joint, away from eavesdroppers and prying eyes.
wordlessly takes a seat, waving off a waiter. not yet, it'd be far too rude to drink before her new friend's arrival.)
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what's probably the most ridiculous is Victor can get in here with Makkachin in the first place, but here he is. a man in a jacket and a suit, with his canine companion. he gives a friendly wave to the bartender, though he doesn't have much of a smile right then. that comes after a brief conversation; a fleeting smile and a nod in turn, before Victor looks around the interior of the bar.
difficulties in meeting up with strangers: it usually involves some back and forth before identifying who they're even looking for. )
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sombra stares for the moments before and after, letting him wait, watching him scan the bar. well-dressed, relatively polite of a person, figure skater means lean and svelte, far more handsome than the rest of the faces (both alien and humanoid) obscured by drinks. only once she's had a good look, sizing him up, does she lift a hand — and she's the flashiest one there with neon pink body mods, neon pink cords following her fingers, neon pink nails leaving trails of holographic pixels when they're wiggled in greeting.
too much?)
Over here, guapo. You really brought your dog... I thought you were looking for a sitter.
(relaxing back with a smug air, motioning to the seat across from her.)
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I was, and I've been introduced to a few. I'll see what I make of them in person over time.
( there'd been a method to his madness on his second day here. as it is now, he takes a seat, Makkachin moseying in under the table to find himself a place to sit. he doesn't seem to pay much attention to Sombra. he's just a dog circling around and looking to make himself comfortable, ultimately laying his head on one of Victor's feet.
Victor himself leans back, body posture outwardly relaxed. he keeps his eyes on Sombra, quiet and considering. his expression has already taken to more neutral lines; still pleasant, in a general sort of manner, but not the easy act of someone used to performing in front of a camera. having a nice public face is a necessity in his line of work. or it was. )
I don't think I ever did catch your name.
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they seem to fall into a curt quiet, examining one another, before victor speaks. sombra simply leans onto a hand, elbow propped.)
Sombra. Easy to remember? (a smirk, eyebrow raising.) You certainly look like a figure skater.
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Sombra. Sounds like a nice name. Is it?
( hard to say when it's not one he knows. not that Victor attaches too much importance to names; hilarious, given his own, and his own victories over the years. )
After twenty years, I should hope so. Doesn't rank as very interesting to most the crew on the ship.
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(pointing from below her rested chin, finger doing a tiny little circle in the air.)
Call that waiter over and get us a drink, would ya, Vic? All the charm's on your side of the table.
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NOT TODAY, SATAN.he laughs, nether confirming nor denying. )Everyone has a shadow. I don't think nice or not factors into things like that.
( noncommittal as it is, he end sup following her prompting with good cheer. lifting a hand to cock it to the side, fingers splayed, a winning grin and direct eye contact merits him the attention of one of the waiters. it's easy enough to banter a quick hello and a we'll both be ordering; he nods to Sombra to place her order first, partly to see what it is. partly to decide what he'll be choosing to match, tonight.
he also orders a water for his dog. an a bowl, if they have one. once the waiter's on their way, he settles both hands on the table, fingers gently tapping against the surface, keeping time with whatever music is wafting over from the far corner. )
Have you had much of a chance to sit down and relax with the crew? Quite a varied group of people.
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(it would place a damper on the mood if it weren't so jovially put, sombra perking up and leaning onto the table when the bartender is hailed. she orders a whiskey sour, having a bit of a sigh when the man has only the vaguest idea of what she means, before she's referring to the drink menu... waving at something very alien and very neon.)
If this is acid, I'll give you a head's up. (a distracted comment, thinking over her answer to victor's question.
it's a sure thing, their "variety". lacking in female charm, but decidedly diverse; they have folks from apocalyptic futures and aliens, figure skaters and their dogs, notorious hackers and military men—) I haven't done much in the way of relaxing, so consider yourself special. I've spoken to more than a few, though.
(a pause, deliberating.)
Surely they'll realize we're on a team and things won't backfire terribly on our little lifeboat in the middle of the void.
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he opens his mouth to speak, then pauses, sorting out his thoughts and chuckling. ah, two different levels of crew are emerging in his head, and he can see her divide. it's an important one, but the us versus them mentality is tiring even if he feels it is necessary as a survival mechanism. )
We're not all gifted when it comes to teamwork. Some of us are used to being independent agents. ( a light tone to his voice, though the choice in wording remains deliberate, as long as he's speaking in English. ) Unlike our friends amoung the older crew here.
( there's room to adapt and the need and desire to learn, but it's all with a nod to the fact that a ragtag team is ragtag; the machine of experience and time that the crew of the ship has is simply different. )
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(it's sly, but not untrue. she prefers the ones who take a careful look at things objectively without passing judgement straight away... too many room for errors, but not enough leeway given for the team to flourish before the doubt settles in. they all have their opinions — her's is just a little more pessimistic.
call it experience.
sombra takes a deep swig of her drink, tongue pulling the residue off of damp lips, finding the drink almost viscous. god, if this is the remnants of a slime trail of some snail alien, she might puke, but as it is?)
Mm— damn, this is good. You have to try some of this. (pushing it across the table.)
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Wouldn't that be a twist.
( there is no Russian Spy in this ship. (no, there is. his name is Makkachin. he spies for the nation of Friendliness, under a ranking system of "most and least likely to pet a dog.") )
Making too many presumptions tends to land me in trouble. ( which includes squinting at her drink even as she's offering it over; his has ended up being spicy, of all things, and nothing like a Moscow Mule. he supposes he's living the jest of his own words right now.
still, to hell with it. with the weight of Makkachin's head on his foot, Victor lifts his shoulders in a small sort of shrug. there's more they'll all need to focus on as the tolerated, somewhat integrated newbies aboard a ship of better integrated people, but that's what it's like as the new arrivals on any scene.
may as well try the weird and fun alcohols along the way. he nudges his own drink back toward Sombra, with the helpful clarification of: )
If you like spicy, then...
( go ahead. he tries to swoosh her drink, finds it reluctant to take to the motion, and takes a sip anyway. he's not sure what to make of it, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth after swallowing, twice, in reflex. end conclusion, as he passes her drink on back her way: )
Not bad, but nothing I'll be ordering on my own.
( flavour wise it's fine; the viscosity makes the sweet burn of it going down into almost something too drawn out. )
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taking his drink, watching him sip at her own, she smirks around the rim of the glass and tries a mouthful. true to his word, it most definitely does have a kick to it and sombra raises a thin eyebrow at it. most of these drinks, she feels with some amount of giddiness, are going to be delicious. and she can't even tell anyone back home about them.
a swap of their drinks yet again, fingers alighting on the cup of viscous mucous (and that's very likely what it is, not that she's concerned so long as it does its job and she doesn't know about it)...)
Y'know, I think you're right on that one. I'm ordering yours next. This one's coating my throat like Nyquil.