exsiliumlogs | yo check it out, i've got a plan

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yo check it out, i've got a plan

Date & Time: today! evening!!
Location: SOME BAR
Characters: Mansbane & Mankiller (Licyn & Araña)
Summary: a wolf and a spider met in a bar...
Warnings: prooobably not?

[ Exsilium, she has to admit, is not so bad. True, there's no Samhain, but there's also no one that knows her face. Not one single person in this bar can report her to the authorities for anything. Gods, that feels good. And if she doesn't talk about being fresh off the transporter pad, people are generally friendly, too. (She'd picked up fast on how being a Transport was Bad, and she keeps that part quiet now.)

She's on her forth drink now, only one of which she bought herself. Unfortunately, she's just about done with it, so it's pretty close to time to find someone to treat her to another one. She casts a look around the bar, and... him. Yeah. He'll do.

She hops off of her stool and starts toward a scruffy looking guy, already smiling. As soon as she's close enough, she clinks her glass down onto the countertop, eyes on him. ]

Look. It's almost empty. Fucking tragedy, right?

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( Licyn glances down at his own almost empty glass, eyebrow quirking up as a smile curls his lips upward at the corner. Ah. He had to appreciate a lady who cut right down to what she wanted.

Namely, a free drink, but it was fairly standard from what he recalled last time he was in the area. It was an interesting departure from the particular ways similar behaviors had worked in taverns back home, but much like the upgrade in glassware, it wasn't a departure he lamented in the slightest.

He taps the back of a nail against his own glass, lifting his hand for a lazy circling wave in the air. )

A beautiful woman, with an empty glass? Not a mere tragedy, it's a downright catastrophe.

( At least his gaze is as he's speaking; she makes no bones about what she wants, he's content to let his eyes roam in an appreciative way. His luck tonight hasn't took. He considers that not all so terribly bad, given he's had a home and warm, occupied bed the last week, and not on the Initiative's dollar.

Thus he smiles, calling out for the barkeep, fingers still splayed lazily in the air: )

We've a glass that needs filling! Two of whatever the lady desires.

( Licyn is content enough to know the man has his attention on them, then on Araña. He's curious to hear her pick her poison. )

[ That's her cue. So she calls out just a step behind him: ] Scotch, dry! [ Just like it was planned.

She turns her lazy smile onto him, not at all minding the attention. It's why she's cut her shirt so low, after all. Well, that, and to better show off the spider tattoo splayed across her chest. It doesn't look raw anymore, but it still looks crisp enough to give it away as new. ]

So. What's my hero's name?

( Oh yes. He'll admire each leg with alacrity. There is absolutely nothing wrong with admiring artwork, no matter the canvas. In fact, all the better for being a most appealing canvas, and about the only form of drawn artwork he's ever been able to appreciate.

He's amused by the scotch. Dry, however, he appreciates. How he manages to languidly meet her eyes again for the introduction portion of the bar dance, we may never know. )

I haven't the faintest idea. Let me know if you ever find out.

( He shifts enough to make the gesturing to an open barstool by him into an invitation. Fairly innocuous for him, at the moment. He's blithely amused at dismissing himself from hero status. It's an off the cuff statement, as most are, but ah, how he'd prefer to avoid that one forever. Extremely annoying, even in jest, unless that jest involved a bed, two or more naked parties, and lots of -- well. )

I, however, and Licyn. What might the lady of such impressive... legs be called?

[ There's just a split second where the answer passes her by, but then she latches onto the joke of it and grins. Good answer. She doesn't take the proffered stool, preferring to stand, leaned with her elbows rested against the bar and spider in full, inadvertently (or not), plumped-up view. ]

Araña.

[ It'd be funny if he spoke her native tongue. Oh, well. She glances away and down, drops a hand — and a monkey swings up with it from his wandering exploits across the floor. There's a second when he's behind her, scrambling his way up, and her outstretched hand is also blocked from sight, that a quick trade-off happens. But she immediately pockets the transferred wallet, and it's a move that goes pretty easily unobserved. She nods toward the monkey, once he's in his place on her shoulders. ]

—That's Esteban. Don't piss him off, he has a thing for shit.

( There are really only two reasons to look away from a beautiful woman, and one of them is a creature so startlingly new that one cannot help but blink and straighten up to evaluate what kind of threat the new creature is.

Quite like appreciation, but with a great deal of evaluation and a tendency to slide out of back-alley doors when situations looked less than optimal.

Licyn has never seen a monkey before, unless that hideous, flying creature of fur and fetid stench that was on the island counted as a monkey (and some biologists he will never meet would lambast him for his simplicity, in mistaking an ape for a monkey!), and as such was watching the entirety of their movements with keen observation.

Not so very drunk as he's been allowing himself to seem, up to this point. The similarities in structure between the monkey and a small child has him tilting his head, finally looking away from the monkey back to the woman.

Araña. Esteban. Interesting, and quite possibly trouble. No... as his eyes wander back appreciatively to her cleavage (hey, they're there, she's showing, he can just hope that sharing would ever be a nice action past the already nice thought), he decides that's the picture of definite trouble. )

Him and half the nobles I've run across.

( His lips quirk up in a lopsided smirk when he bothers meeting her gaze again. )

That, or they're just full of it. A pleasure to meet you, Araña, as much as it's a pleasure to meet any beautiful woman while half drunk surrounded by the intxicating scents of sweat, bad ale, and whatever else I'll refrain from naming. For Esteban's sake.

( He says with a wink, gesturing to the monkey as the barkeep returns with their drinks. Licyn's hand falls back next to the glass, brushing against the side of the tumbler. )

Wouldn't want to offend his sensibilities.

Don't I fucking know it.

[ That's with an almost pleasant smile, which is distracted the second their drinks arrive. Ah, good. She finishes off the one she'd been working on and reaches for the new one. ]

So, Licyn, what's your story? You been here long?

[ She's sober enough to keep that vague, at least. If he's a native, he might take it to mean when he showed up at the bar, or maybe how long his family has been here. A Transport would take it differently altogether. ]

( He lifts his glass to tip it toward his companion, a lazy sort of acknowledgement. How long has he been here?

He breathes in, wishing his nose was as sensitive as it would be in his shaggier form. )

I stumbled in not too long ago.

( He weighs the probabilities of him dealing with another Transport, versus a native. He'd stumbled in to the island now much like two months or so prior, barely a blink passing for him between one moment and the next.

He supposes a low risk way of bringing that particular question to the forefront would be easy enough to do. After all, his pleasure in being here wasn't usually common, if it let him easily slide in with various exiles in their complaints and revelries. )

Even picked up a trinket to commemorate the occassion.

( He tugs on a bit of heavy twine around his neck, pulling on it enough to make the top of something roundish peep up over the top of his loose shirt. )

Though you could say it was more of a strongly recommended acquiring.

( To put it lightly. Not that Licyn bothered resisting. Oh, sure, he'll take this random object -- oh, a compass? that's probably useful! do you have swords that aren't magic? yes? good, show me those -- not searing well leave him alone!

Allowing the compass to slide back down, Licyn straightens with the same lazy grace that could almost pass as intoxicated. His eyes were a little too alert, not quite glossy enough, but he had to admit he wasn't trying very hard today.

He's curious in spite of himself. )

And you?

( If so, what's she fishing for? )

[ It might be a little embarrassing later, but she fails entirely to catch that alertnness in him. In fact, she's far more interested in that brief, tantalizing glimpse of -- whatever it was. What was that, a locket? She eyes the half-seen shape of it through his shirt, visible or imagined only because she knows it's there.

She wonders how much these Initiative-given weapons are worth, as she's already decided that's what his vague answer had related to. ]

Yeah, same. [ She nods her head toward Esteban, who's staring with wide-eyed apparent fascination at Licyn (or maybe that's just his normal look). ] My gracious hosts gave me what I already owned. Nice of 'em, right?

( Oh, the imprint is invisible, now that she knows to look for it.

A monkey is not where he appreciates his wide eyed fascination. It does, however, merit a wink from Licyn at the monkey -- hey there. )

Funny, they offered something like that. ( A vague gesture with his hand as he sips at his alcohol. ) I told them to keep their magic away from me. Ah, but I do take their money. Wouldn't be much of a mercenary to pretend to work for free.

Nope, definitely not. S'what keeps the sun twirling through the sky.

[ But that's interesting news, and she watches him suddenly with less of an eye for theft, and rather one for employement. ]

Hey, but are you any good? I'm looking for someone who knows how to not run himself through.

( He quirks up an eyebrow at the question. )

Am I being paid well enough to be competent?

( Not that he'd run himself through, but he searing well would run off if he was getting shit pay and the situation got even shittier.

So. )

[ She snorts, and shoots a sidelong look of derision at him. ]

Please. When I'm shelling it out, it's damn well worth having.

( His own look back is equally derisive -- but damningly curious as well. )

Yes, I can so clearly tell from the immense and awe inspiring reputation that preceeds you.

( A lazy movement of his hand sends the remaining contents of his glass swirling -- he continues the motion, considering his new 'friend' with renewed interest. )

You have the purse to back that up, or just the will?

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