milliways_bar | (no subject)

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From the bar, the sounds of an Amberite cracking up.

The scent of candles and chocolate.

One (1) chocolate cupcake with two (2) birthday candles stuck in it, provided by the lady bar.

Happy milliversary, Random. Two years to the day.

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"He's a complete chauvenist, too. I mean, I'd understand it if he was a charmer, but he's got a bit of the 'fuck off or sleep with me, you take your pick' attitude going on that's not traditionally an asset for a girl in bed."

Random's different, for some reason, too.

"I'm a pretty far cry from traditional, so I can't speak for most girls," she says.

"But sometimes the whole fuck off chauvinist thing is its own kind of charisma; sort of reverse psychology."

Just look at her list of exes.

"See, he started like that with me, and then I hit him repeatedly till he got his head on straight, and then we hit the sheets."

Of course, this whole process took three days total, so he can't really talk.

She laughs.

"If at first you don't succeed, hit him until it works out?"

"Works like a charm. Although, it's now 'if at first you don't succeed, refuse to have sex with him until he sees your point of view.'"

Both have equally effective results.

"Nothing like withdrawal symptoms to bring them around to your side."

"Precisely."

He gives her a suitably evil grin.

She responds with an equally evil one.

"It is so nice to have the trump card, if you'll pardon the pun."

"Oh, both parties have it, it's just about having the patience to use it."

Or, alternatively, taking matters into your own hand when said other party tries.

"True," she says.

"But if you doubt that they've got the patience..."

"Or testing their patience severely."

Also fun.

She grins.

"Amen to that."

"Anyways. Tell me something good going on with you. Been heading home?"

What's news?

"Been...around," she says.

"Home for a little bit, but also traveling around and enjoying this place."

"That's always good. Anywhere interesting? You've got a while now, doesn't hurt to check out what's out there."

Like that time with Santino, Sands, Mal, Lawrence of Arabia, Ramon, Random and one very determined minivan...

She lifts the corner of her mouth in a half-smile.

"Needed to stretch my legs not too long ago, so I found a war for a little while. Not sure where the hell I was, but I could probably get there again. It was rainy as hell, but a nice place."

If you ignore the getting shot at part, that is.

"That's really your scene, isn't it?"

Random grins, a tad tiredly.

"I remember the battles. Naval, for me."

"Yeah. Suspect it will be, for a while."

She tilts her head. "I've got a thing for the dirt, I guess. What's it like on the water?"

"Fucked up."

He shakes his head.

"Stick to dirt. A man goes down, he's down. A boat goes down slowly, and you hear hundreds of them screaming for help and can't send lifeboats because you're too busy trying to not get blown up. There aren't enough lines for all the bodies in the water. It's slow when you want it to be fast and fast when you want it to be slow."

"Dirt it is," she murmurs.

"Always felt like I had better odds when the fighting was up close, anyway."

"I lost interest in war a while ago. People die quick enough as it is."

When you're an Amberite.

"True enough. Suppose I'll drift into retirement in my own time."

But even as she says it, it feels like a lie. Being unable to die hasn't taken the rush out of battle yet, and it is still what she's best at.

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