milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Domino had eventually gone home, and time had once again skipped forward while she was there, leading her through an emotional attachment of the kind she vowed never to have, an explosion, and a miracle.

That said, it was a slightly older, and far wiser, bottle-blonde bounty hunter that entered the bar, blinking when she realized it wasn't where she'd been going, very nearly dropping the fishbowl in her hand with surprise.

Then she smiled, moving quietly to a booth and setting the bowl down carefully.

(she's quite botherable, but the mun is at work, so replies may be patchy to nonexistant.)

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There's a thin girl wearing an oversized fur hat at the next booth over. A huge pile of weapons sits on the table in front of her: grenades, pistols, and a whole lot of ammo. She's looking at it, trying to figure out how she's going to carry all of it.

She looks up for a moment, then stares. "Why are you carrying a fish?"

She arched a brow, just slightly, at the arsenal. Granted, she'd had one similar enough when she was sixteen or so, but, well, this was a kid.

"Because goldfish are a good indicator of how things are going to go." She paused, "Better than some things anyway."

"Really? Does it warn you when you're about to be ambushed, or something like that?"

She laughed softly at that, shaking her head and trailing her fingers along the side of the bowl, "Not really, no. But if it dies, it means something bad's going to happen."

"So it can only warn you once?" That doesn't sound useful. Makita would probably drive the poor goldfish into extinction if she tried to keep them around for that.

She smiled, just a little, shaking her head, "My father gave me a goldfish when I was younger. I've rather always liked them."

And then, because she's the curious sort, she asked, "What's with the stockpile?"

"This? I loaned someone my coat. Now I'm trying to figure out how to carry it without pockets."

Her brow arched, slowly followed by the other. Her mother had given her a kevlar vest for her birthday when she'd become a bounty hunter, but a collection like that usually required a truck, "... and you kept it in your coat before?"

Makita nods, "Yeah. It took me a couple of weeks to find a coat with big enough pockets."

She couldn't help but grin at that, really, "It's better than I've done, that's for sure."

She shrugged then, offering, "I'm a bounty hunter, haven't met a weapon yet I didn't like."

She slides one of the pistols across the table. It has an extended magazine sticking out of the bottom. "Ever fire a Takarov before?" She grins, "I really like Takarovs. It took me quite a while to get two of them that worked."

Oh that got her attention, picking it up carefully, just testing the weight, brow arching, "This is built for someone with smaller hands." She shook her head, "Maybe not on purpose, but it's nice."

Makita nods, "The Takarov's not standard issue for the Reds. It's personal sidearm choice for some of the smaller members of the Fleet. When I pulled the first one off some Corporal I just knew I had to have another one."

"The fact that it's a 5mm only sweetens the deal," she grins.

It took her a moment to find the release for the cartridge, just weighing that as well a moment before sliding it back into place with a nod and a slowly-spreading smile, "Probably kicks like a mule."

Makita grins, "It's not as bad as it looks, really. With enough practice you learn to ignore it."

Domino was grinning as well, fingers itching to take it apart and put it back together again, but she wasn't going to, "Best kind then."

"You've got good taste then. I'm Makita."

She shrugged, "I'm a bounty hunter. Kind of have to." A smile, "And I'm Domino."

"So, what is it that a bounty hunter does? We don't have them back home."

She shrugged once more, running her fingers over the side of the fishbowl again, "Well, when someone skips out on a bail, or something like that, we go in to collect them."

"Oh. Is it dangerous?" It involves guns, that usually means danger.

"I can be. Most of the time it is, but not always. We're always surprised when something goes better than we'd been thinking it would."

"Oh yeah. I know that feeling. Like when you go on patrol and don't run into anyone."

Another smile, nodding, "Something like that, yeah."

Because, well, sometimes they ran and hid with their gang, and sometimes they just ran and hid under their girlfriend's bed.

"So, is the fish a tool of the trade or something? Or is that just you?"