[closed] I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited

[hyanaimne]

Date & Time: December 12
Location: Winter wonderland of snow and fun
Characters: Tempest and Charlie Dyer
Summary: Someone was missing for a few days. Someone else wants to shake her.
Warnings: None!

[milling around just inside the doors leading to the transporter room, Tempest finds her attention drawn to the floor; idly drawing designs in the slush with the toe of her boot, pushing it around. Not quite a nervous gesture, but almost.

It's been over a year since she's been here, and yet only a few days passed. She honestly does feel cheated; that she spent months wondering if she would ever be brought back, or if she had been kicked out for some reason, and just when Exsilium was no longer on her mind, a blink and she's there. She almost wanted to laugh at the irony.

She pauses moving slush around to glance down at her hand, flexing the fingers with a frown. The cold was making it ache again - nothing new, for her nowadays, but still annoying. She'd have to pick up another pair of gloves at some point. She sighs, and leans back against the wall and forces her attention to the door instead]

Comments

[hyanaimne]

When we are inside, then. I want to get this bloody armor off anyway.

[falla]

[ Charlie hums as if slightly in disagreement. ]

It looks g-good on you though.

[hyanaimne]

Ah . . . thank you? I did not think armor could look good, honestly . . .

[falla]

Ve-very mercenary like.

[ How do you compliment someone help. ]

[hyanaimne]

[she grins, amused. At least there's that]

I hadn't known armor was a mercenary thing, either.

[falla]

You d-don't jump people unprotected, do y-you?

[ And there's a slight serious interest somewhere in that question. ]

[hyanaimne]

Jump people . . . ?

I could not afford armor when I first began. And after that I used protection spells if I needed them.

[falla]

I j-just imagine you as a...um, roguish t-type? Sorry?

[ Although Tempest is the best behaved (and prettiest) mercenary she has ever met. ]

Right, magic.

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest is only well behaved because she hasn't had a reason to act out, yet. Don't worry, it'll happen soon]

I . . . suppose that is fitting? I did not er, jump a lot of people, though. If I was not hired for it, I did not do it.

[falla]

[ Tempest pls. ]

I guess th-that's what it means to have a c-code.

[ And you cans already see their sewers/house/whatever on the horizon, finally. ]

[hyanaimne]

[the girl you like has one hell of a temper]

Something like that . . . unless, of course, I was forced to do it.

[thank GOD. She looks relieved to be able to see it]

[falla]

[ Well she's still waiting to know the story behind the name.

Also yes thank God because it was getting even more awkward. ]

Well, you're h-here n-now. That's what m-matters.

[hyanaimne]

I am, honestly, a bit glad to be back.

[she doesn't elaborate, but she has more of a life here than she ever did back home]

[falla]

[ Considering Charlie didn't talk to people back home unless it was absolutely necessary, she knows the feeling. ]

Good, me too.

[ As they arrive, Charlie lets Tempest walk in first, finally letting go of her, leaving the woman some freedom to get a look at the place they are using. ]

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest steps in and looks around, a little curious, before she reaches up to push her hood back with a sigh. Considering it's temporary (as is all her "housing" ever was) she doesn't really look around so much as find her bed to sit on]

just realized we need to do something with the housing?

[falla]

[ Charlie wanders off for a moment, crouching to look under her own bed not too far away. She stays true to her idea to give her some space and only returns minutes later, her briefcase in hand. ]

Okay so, the t-tattoo?

what do you mean

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest works at removing her cloak in the meantime, followed by her armor and the chainmail she has underneath that. Next is her coat, and as Charlie's coming over she's finally pulling off her gloves. Though, she leaves the fingerless ones on.

She eyes the briefcase a bit, but nods and reaches up to untie the front of her shirt, enough that she can tug down the shoulder part enough so that Charlie can see the symbol]

the three of them appear all over the housing page??

[falla]

[ Charlie sits next to her so that she can get a look at her shoulder, all while telling herself it's just a shoulder, it's just a shoulder.

It's a nice bare shoulder though.

Charlie opens her briefcase and takes out a few instruments; magnifying glass, some q-tip like sample takers, a mini camera and some gloves which she puts on. ]

The wheel...hmm.

o yes maybe we should fix that

[hyanaimne]

[what in the hell are all those things. Tempest's eyes widen a little and she tries not to lean away, but . . . ]

What are . . . [she gestures to the instruments]

yeppers

[falla]

[ Charlie is about to lean closer to her shoulder, but she stops when Tempest speaks.

Looking down, she passes a hand over her instruments, smiling fondly at them. ]

This is m-my Weapon. I told you, I am a d-detective.

[hyanaimne]

I still do not really understand what one is . . .

[though, even if she's a bit weirded out, she sits perfectly still otherwise]

[falla]

I'm b-basically paid to solve mys-mysteries.

[ She can be a romantic about her work okay? ]

My Weapon g-gives me tools to gather i-information.

[ And she beams at Tempest. ]

[hyanaimne]

Ah, I see . . .

[that's a little more understandable. She smiles back, a bit tentatively] A suitable Weapon for you, then.

[falla]

I d-don't need help being dangerous an-anyway.

[ She places a finger over the tattoo, then moves it around it, making its shape with it. She then rubs one of the q-tip thingies on it. ]

T-tell me about the Drow. They magic and l-lore.

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest makes a face when she does that; it feels like a scar, though the cold makes it ache a little, as it does to her hands, too]

I do not know much about them . . . like I said, it was thought that they died out. And they are as hated as my kind is, if not more. No one likes speaking about them, before the war started.