This is for adding a Search Category to the thread.
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The bartender gives Aaren Eloi a friendly shrug and smile. It's not his first rodeo, and it's not like the place isn't full of gold diggers.
"I know, right? Usually it's a girl," he laughs. Dancers. On tables. Standing on chairs, or couches. Or people.
Clear heels just aren't that stable.
"And, I might."
There's a sly grin, and he glances at her drink. She hasn't paid.
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Presence
Dexterity"How dare you, you heterosexist little mite!" Coco snapped, whirling back to face the Wolf. "How delusional you are, to think that only those who flounce about under the summer sun know how to wound. Desire is not always so benign, Miss Grey, and it would behoove you to remember that. Indeed, the next time I am possessing of a glove, I shall gladly introduce it to you, and then we will truly see who wounds whom!"
Mal was confused. Stunned. Pole-axed by the unexpected, if unrealistically verbose reversal of circumstances. So much so the crack at her height, normally the reddest flag to the most short tempered of bulls, passed her by.
"What are you talking about, you thesaurus gargling half-wit?" Mal groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, as her headache swelled to epic proportions. She was catching about one word in three over the titty-bar racket, and they weren't always the useful ones...
Goddamnit Coco! Didn't she know when to just shut up and accept an olive branch when it was offered? Even if it was wilted and a bit chewed on one end?
One of them was going to end up in another of Neil's-special-hugs in a minute... Mal dearly hoped it wasn't her.
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From the corner of his eyes, Miach watched as everything around Ariadne seemed to suddenly be less... there, compared to the Mastigos. He didn't have to think hard to guess what was happening. The Acanthus redoubled his watch, and double-check his body posture to make sure no one was seeing the same thing as he was.
As for the useless girls's petty bickering... he had something else on his mind, something truely important.
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We found your associate and he informed us about what happened. One of them went to look for a manager to talk with. After a moment a mental sigh slips across the link. Ah today is not my day. Anyway, I'm not sure we're going to be in here long enough to find out anything useful. Neil said you might have followed the group who took Leo?
Ariadne watches the growing problem of the two women. Glancing at Miach, Ariadne nods towards the two arguing women and frowns.
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NightfallWere there Contracts of Silence?
Or, better yet, Shut the Fuckuppery? It seemed like something the Silent Arrow should have. Even if he probably wouldn't use them, he wondered. Probably, only because he thought it was a little creepy -- dropping them on people. Nightfall wasn't squeamish, but there was just a nice way and a not-nice way to do things -- but sometimes not-nice was better than really-not-nice: namely, his preferred method to silence bickering.
Crazy bitches. Couldn't they go find a Hollow for this?
"Let's play The Quiet Game," he suggested with a bright smile. "Or take it outside?"
Zilker
He's been taken to McClellan. I can't get in.
The placid lake ripples with fatigue.
Aaren settles in, tacit agreement in the air. The Fairest shifts and finds a wallet from within the confines of her purse. The bartender is right, Aaren is pricey but usually that price is rendered out in memories and feelings rather than something as banal, emotionless, and unglamorous as money. The bartender might count himself lucky that Aaren knows a bit about the score of buying and selling and that everything, even Happiness, has a price. If that price is being mistaken for something else, so be it.
Though, Aaren does find it amusing that she didn't have to hike her skirt up.
Laughter bubbles up congenially with the bartender as she plays along.
A flash of money and Aaren makes a small, surreptitious show of doing what Tom Cruise wanted in Jerry Maguire. “You said two, right?” Slipping the bills beneath her water for the bartender to take. “How much for the drink?”
Possible to harvest our friend, the bartender's greed? West
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A hand reaches out, and slides the glass towards him. A practiced gesture lifts the napkin with the glass, and bills under it. He's surprisingly thorough, turning each bill over. He's been around the block, and seen his share of grifting bitches. The napkin covers them again, and is folded around the money as it disappears in his pocket.
Eyes slide around carefully, making sure no one is eavesdropping before he leans forward.
"Two whales," he says softly. A hand idly stirs the ice cooler with the scoop to create white noise. "Never seen 'em before, but they were spending. All cash."
An eyebrow bobs. He knows that isn't shit, and not worth what Aaren's paid.
"But. There was another lady, just for a bit, up in the VIP with them. Pretty well known in certain circles, if you know what I mean, if you want something that belongs to someone else. Could be they were clients of hers."
I'll have to say 'No' to the Harvest. It's not a strong emotion -- just business as usual for him.
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Presence
Dexterity"Some day, I will show you," the Claviger promised, hand tightening on her horrendously silly, neon pink attempt-at-a-cane. "But for now, let us follow dear Neil's suggestion, and divert our focus to those more worthy of our particularly wounding talents."
Oh, what the loyalists would have in store for them. Coco was beginning to wonder just what a slaver's reaction would be to having pepper spray applied to their wounds, in addition to what had once been their eyes. Of course, she would have to find them first. Thank the, well, whatever forces for good that there were for Ms. Eloi, then. She was the only one doing something helpful!
Mal stuffed her hands in her pockets and rolled her eyes. Her wanting to go outside was what had started this shitnado of bad attitudes and worse ideas in the first place!
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