exsiliumlogs | (no subject) (part 2)

[The problem with the 'female-appropriate' clothes from this time period is that they're either lacking in length, or so restrictive it's hard to breathe (or both, really). Tali had been busy trying to tug down her skirt while trying not to have her bodice fall down too low when she'd spotted the surly looking man approaching Tony, and even if they weren't roommates here, she still didn't want him getting injured before they were sent back home.

She heaves a sigh and slips easily off her stool with an exaggerated swagger in her step, walking over to Tony and plastering a smile on her face as she slid between him and the surly looking gentleman -- specifically, with her back to Tony. Her foreign-sounding accent has come in handy so far here -- let's hope it holds out.]

Please, forgive my friend. Too much time out in the sun, no? He means no harm -- really.

[She doesn't have much of a chest to push out and up, but the bodice does a good job of pretending that she fills it out.]

[ As much as he'd like to be offended by the manner in which she's managing to get him out of the situation, he does appreciate the effort itself, particularly when it puts a little swing in her step and curve in her spine. He, for his part, tries to look... Really hot, which is obviously easy for two reasons, both of which being that he really is hot, in both looks and feeling. Whoever thought being 'outside' was good for you was basically dead wrong. He was pretty sure he could feel his skin shriveling up as it dehydrated out from around him. ]

Yeah, totally. Too much sun, where are we again, Mercy? Jericho? Alexandria? I'm basically just addled over here, rolled a nat-one on my fortitude to resist the sun, DC eight fucking billion - [ oh, right, lady present. man, times are weird. ] - eight... super billions. [ ...what? Whatever. ] How about we can just sort of mosey on our own way - I like 'mosey'; people look at you weird if you say it nowadays. I mean, thenadays. Futuredays. Past? Jesus this sh--tuff is confusing. But hey, yeah, mosey, drink, and you can tell us all about your pugilistic philosophies? Wax poetic, all that ragtime.

[ Luckily though, the man does not seem inclined to actually join them. Occasionally Tony's mouth does him more good than harm, and in this case he's at just enough a low threshold to actually indeed sound like he's sort of having some kind of sunstroke. ]

[She raises an eyebrow. Either Tony's a very good actor (which she wouldn't put past him, considering what she knew from the City -- and even if it was evident he wasn't the Tony Stark she'd come to know, it was easy to imagine their similarities) -- or he's having an actual bit of sunstroke. She passes over the water she'd slipped into her gin-and-tonic glass and passes it over to Tony once the other man is gone, turning to face him properly.]

Try not to get yourself killed here, all right? I hear resurrection is a bitch.

[And maybe he'd end up some sort of Death Knight. Heh.]

[ He's... Well. How about a reasonably awesome actor who may or may not also have a little sunstroke? That seems the most likely anyhow, for whatever reason.

Tony takes the proffered glass - works out that it's water before he starts drinking it, because that's easy - and takes a swig out of it, and wow, maybe he was a lot thirstier than he thought he was. He ought to go get some more water. ]

Depends on where you are. Here? Yeah, bitch and a half. Where'd you even come over from?

Well, some of us are actually trying to do what we're supposed to here instead of just schmoozing around and being out in the sun for too long -- so I was trying to strategize.

[She lets out a faint huff.]

It's harder than I was hoping, trying to amp up a political campaign without the use of social media or holograms.

Excuse you, I did tell people to vote for the guy. I'm just being subtle about it. If two hundred people or so all show up in a town with a population of a hundred and fifty and all start campaigning for this one guy but can't tell anyone else why they want them to vote for him, it looks a little retarded, don't you think? I have no idea why I should want people to vote for Moony. Do you?

Are you honestly telling me that you can't come up with a few reasons that sound like they might be true to someone who's half-drunk?

[She raises her eyebrow at him.]

There's only so many people that you can get to dressed like this, unfortunately. Or so many types you can attract, and I can only assume most of them will sleep through the vote.

Coming from someone else who is half-drunk, anything doesn't sound that great. Of course I can, it's just that -- [ It's just that what, Tony. ] Shut up, okay, the guy's gonna win anyway, you are totally harshing my melancholy here.

Well, I like it.

You like something on me that shows a lot of skin? Colour me shocked, Mr. Stark.

[She nods toward the bar. If she's going to have to keep hanging around here, Tony can at least buy her a drink -- right?]

And I'm pretty sure that if you're melancholy, the last thing I could possibly be doing would be ... harshing it. Isn't melancholy a negative feeling? How do you 'harsh' on a negative, anyway?

[ Yeah he'll totally buy her a drink. He likes the company, even if she's being ridiculously realistic. ]

You make it worse. This isn't actually a difficult concept, I'm almost positive that masochists exist everywhere in the universe - not that I'm saying I am one, just that the idea, you know, it's out there.

So if I'm making it worse, and you were enjoying it -- doesn't that mean I'm helping?

[She's smirking. Okay, yes, she's enjoying this.]

[ ... ] Shut up, okay, you can make it worse... worse, not better worse. What do you want to drink?

You probably know more than me about what the bar's serving. Something that won't taste like alcohol. You know, typical people-who-rarely-drink drinks.

[...not a long island iced tea, Tony, unless you want to carry her home later.]

I'm not sure it's possible to find something that doesn't taste like alcohol here. Turpentine, maybe. If anything. I'll see what I can do. [ He'll go to the bar to order, coming back with something normal looking for himself and something that took a fair deal more description for her. ] Try that. Should be.... Kind of fruity. Less burn.

So what you're saying is that it won't immediately make my eyes water -- just afterward.

[She was pretty sure he was right about it being a problem finding things that didn't taste like alcohol. From what she'd seen, fresh fruit wasn't exactly in high supply. She sniffs the glass.]

Smells...well, not as bad as anything else, so I'm sure it's good. Thanks, Tony.

Basically. [ He downs most of his own in one go, marginally okay afterward. ] Seriously. Turpentine.

You been on any other missions yet?

[She takes a tentative sip of hers and at least manages not to pull a face at it.]

Not so far. I guess they're trying to keep the smaller missions for people they already trust.

[Or...something.]

[ He's pretty sure something about that logic doesn't actually make sense but right now he doesn't care that much. ]

Sure. That's as good a reason as anything else. You know you can volunteer for some of them?

I didn't know that, actually. I wonder if they've got all of our specialities written down somewhere in a database.

[Then again, maybe it was too much to ask that they be that organized.]

I bet they've got something about all of us written down. There's gotta be some kind of organization to it all, since the training sessions are grouped off by skillsets and you know they're tracking who picks up what from the armory. Beyond that, no idea.

(no subject) (part 2)

Scenario one, obviously

it seems to be the larger favourite

Everyone loves a damsel.

/eyelash flutter

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