milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Mary Anne's slumped in a booth, pouring shots from a bottle of tequila. She winces at the alcohol burn on her healing lower lip. Still, doesn't look like she's adverse to company.

Take a seat; she'll get you your own shotglass.

[ooc: tags may be slow due to the mun's current dependence on dial-up, but she'll be around for a while.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

“Not particularly, no.”

He grins lazily, eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

"Oh, such a shame. Do hope you don't have to run, though. Like I said, been wanting to see you."

She smiles again, all teeth. "What," she begins, voice coated in false cheer, "in the billy blue hell were you thinking when you shot him?"

He taps his chin solemnly as he considers, expression almost deathly serious save for the faintest of smirks.

“Mostly,” and the smirk becomes a full-on grin again, “how great it felt to be shooting him.”

She sits a little straighter.

"Honey," she replies, "you'll be wanting to avoid such thoughts in the future, for your own continued ability to breathe."

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

He tuts, sighs, shakes his head. Tone perfectly pleasant.

“Did I offend your delicate sensibilities?”

She laughs.

"I don't think I have any delicate sensibilities left. But I do get a little irritated when people leave bullets in my friends."

“Mm. Okay. I’ll be sure to remember that.”

He smiles amiably and lights up a cigarette.

"Oh, and just a friendly warning--I'd stay away from Random if I were you. He threatened to turn me inside-out when I accidently grazed Ramon with a bullet. Don't imagine he'll be bringing you tea and cookies when he hears about this."

Besides, she doesn't want Random to have all the fun.

Sands snorts with laughter.

“Well, that’s just peachy. I’ll be sure to tell you as soon as I start giving a damn.”

"Just trying to be neighborly."

Her smile has narrowed to a thin twist of lips. Time to cut the crap. "You try that shit again and I'll fucking kill you."

A drag on his cigarette, and he almost seems to be enjoying himself.

Blandly, “I’m afraid there’s a bit of a queue.”

She smiles.

"Well, I suppose I can let other people have the glory. So long as I get to have a turn first."

There's a knife in her hand now. Toss, catch.

Toss.

Catch.

Well, so there is.

How… interesting.

“A wee bit demanding there, sweetheart. I’ve a busy schedule, you know.”

Smiling vaguely, he leans against the booth and slides his free hand into his pocket. Casual, barely even noticeable.

Barely, but not invisible. When home is a warzone, you learn to notice these things.

But she still keeps tossing the knife.

"If time is a problem, I suppose I could work quickly. I'd just hate to be sloppy."

“And I’d hate for you to be sloppy.”

Tilting his head, he puts on a pout. It fits his face like the wrong piece of a puzzle, all blank blue sky but still not quite right.

Eyes on the knife.

It's hard to tell where he's looking with those sunglasses on, but it is a very fine knife and quite the attention getter.

Slowly and deliberately, she puts it away. It's not like it's the only one she has on her, after all.

"Just so long as we understand each other."

Calmly, “I understand.”

He nods, smiles, drags on his cigarette.

The hand remains in his pocket.

She fills the shotglass, sliding it across the table to him in silent invitation.

She watches his face, not his hand.

There’s a moment’s hesitation, and it would be a strange thing to watch, were Mary Anne’s eyes not on his face. Almost like he doesn’t want to take his hand away from his (gun) pocket, and almost like he can’t.

It passes. Sands frowns, and then his face is blank again as he reaches out. Takes the offered glass and empties it one smooth movement.

"See, that wasn't so bad."

Her smile's (almost) friendly again.

"Was it?"

He shrugs, weighing the glass idly in his hand before dropping it back down onto the table.

“You can’t say no to tequila.”

"Especially not when it's free."

(No such thing as a free lunch.)

She refills the glass and tosses back the shot.

“Exactly.”

He smiles faintly, takes a drag on his cigarette, then,

“Didn’t he try to crush your skull one time?”

"He did."

Her smile's a little wider, with a pronounced edge.

"I got better."

“Mm.”

Still smirking as he taps the off the ash and examines the ember thoughtfully.

“I kinda gathered.”