milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Max is curled up in a booth, sipping coffee and flipping idly through a book. This is not unusual. The skirt and sweater she is wearing are. Everyone needs a bit of a change sometimes.

Come bother the X5. She won't bite.

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"Well, I appreciate it." She grins. "I'd make a crack about looking like a junkie otherwise, but my scars fade too quickly for that to be an issue."

He chuckles, and in the ease of the moment lets slip one of his won secrets.

"You should ahev seen me after I came back from Hell, I looked like an overscarred baseball that has been cut open and retied over and over again. But, int ime, my body ehaled."

It is only after he spakes that he realizes what he has said and his form still for a moment, then slowly eases. No reason not to tell ehr, right? Right. Not like she will be telling Max he ran out and went to hell. And she doesnt know why yet anyway.

She blinks once, then again. It's a little startling, especially slipped into conversation so casually.

And doesn't say anything, largely because she's not really certain what to say to that.

He shakes his head. Score another social foul for McCoy.

"Anyway. get me that blood sometime. I will leave you to your evening."

he smiles and rises.

"...You don't have to go." She smiles faintly. "Though I understand if you wish to."

he chuckles.

"I fail at social stuff. I dont want to make you uncomfortable. I tend to do that at times, to others. Somewhere along the line the line in my brain between what should come out and what does got shifted and doesnt always work right."

he grins.

"So I apologize, and in advance."

She grins slightly. "Doctor McCoy, you're talking to someone who spent her formative years learning how to kill people in new and interesting manners. Social graces aren't precisely my forte either."

After a moment, she adds, "So consider yourself forgiven."

He blinks then he chuckles.

"Thank you. "

he settles back in his seat.

"I will have to go soon, again. The Infirmary has managed to be busy these last few days. Seems like people are trying to keep me in a job... which would be rgeat, if this palce paid me."

he grins.

"Not that I need it. Working in aschool alongside one of the biggest money nerds ever in my world has allowed me to know when and whee to find moneyg making opportunities and make the most of them. And this body is very good at hard work."

She laughs quietly. "Well, that's good to know."

A moment's pause. "They don't put money on your tab at all...?"

He shakes his head.

"Not as far as I know. I just started working one day and ot having a lot to do., As word s[pread I ahev expanded the line of machines and materials I have in there. I havent sought payment, like I said, it isnt an issue to me. It just pops up in my head sometime. You know how you think of jobs back in he Earthworlds is always about at least partially, if it pays enough to survive. Well, I dont have that trouble these days, but it doesnt stop the mind from remmebering old habits.

"Ah." She grins. "Sadly, I haven't been able to move beyond the materialistic stage. Largely because stealing all my meals would be too much effort."

She winks, and may even be joking.

His eyes dance. He has rather noticed her way of walking and talking, her eyes and her movements. He has visited pos-apocalyptic worlds before himself.

"Ah, well, as long as it serves your tastes, amdame."

And he makes her a seated flourished bow, his eyes glinting with humor.

"It does. There's something just wrong about having to break into a market stall late at night to steal macaroni."

"Indeed. So much work for pasta. Almost as bad as making it. Which is not fun."

he shudders dramatically and rolls his eyes as he grins.

Then he smiles.

"Perhaps when this is finished we might discuss working together at some point. If you can travel to my world at that point. My employer often has jobs that require stealth and skill, which you have demonstrated."

he grins down at his hands.

"My skills lay in other areas most of the time."

She laughs. "Everyone has their talents. If we were all sneaky bastards, the multiverse would be a strange and disturbing place."

A moment's pause. "...More so."

He laughs.

"Yes it would. There is a man on my world, by the name of Logan. He and you would probably get along... or kill each other. I am not sure which. he shares a lot of your talents and disposition."

She grins slightly. "It's been about 50/50 so far, on the 'getting along with people to whom I have eerie similarities' scale."

Hank nods.

Then he shifts geers.

"Afte this is resolved, would you care to spar sometime? I am used tow orking with both experienced veterans and with new kids learning how to fight, so we could find an equitable level, and see if we cant teach each other something. "

He shakes his head.

"I dont enjoy fighting all that much, but I do like learning."

She grins slightly. "I'm always up for learning something new. You never know when it'll come in handy."

he nods.

"Exactly."

Then he sighs as he glances at his wrist comp.

"I really should get back to work. I will talk to you later, alright?"

"Take care." She smiles slightly. "Don't stress yourself out too much."

he nods and sweeps her a bow, grinning.

"I wont. Farewell, Max."

And he is off.

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