(no subject)

[cutting_edgex23]

X slips in through the back door, body tensed warily as she picks her way through the crowd.

She settles a little after obtaining soup and a soda. Food has a way of doing that.

So, too, does findinga decent vantage point and noting her surroundings.

Old habits die very hard.

Comments

[preserver-lewis.livejournal.com]

Lewis has obtained a chilled martini, with just the faintest touch of vermouth added to the excellent gin, and a single green olive on the side. He settles down to enjoy his drink, scanning his surroundings idly, when--

God Apollo, that young woman has sharp metal things in her hands.

She isn't a cyborg, clearly, but perhaps some kind of Company experiment? Lewis, for whom curiosity is a besetting sin, approaches her and raises his glass in a toast. "Good evening," he says in Cinema Standard English.

[cutting_edgex23]

X looks up at him, body tensed as if to spring.

Other than that she doesn't move.

"Hello."

Something about him is--off. Give her a moment.

[preserver-lewis.livejournal.com]

She's quite pretty, too. Lewis's eyes widen, and he gives the young woman a courtly smile and bow. "Lewis, at your service, ma'am."

[cutting_edgex23]

"I do not want your service."

X studies him warily. It's an odd look for a sixteen year old girl.

"And I am not a ma'am."

Beat.

"I am X-23."

[preserver-lewis.livejournal.com]

Then she is a Company experiment, and without even a name. Poor child. "Pleased to meet you, X-23. May I get you a drink?" She's too young for alcohol or Theobromos, but surely the bar can offer something that will serve.

[cutting_edgex23]

She nods, just once.

"Milk."

Beat.

"Please."

[preserver-lewis.livejournal.com]

"Of course." Lewis leaves his martini on X's table and goes to the bar to order a glass of milk. He hasn't realized that the rats serve drinks yet, and when he does he is still going to refuse to order from them on principle.

A few minutes later, Lewis returns and presents the glass to X with a flourishing bow.

[cutting_edgex23]

X appears entirely unphased. It's entirely possible she thinks he's insane.

It doesn't change anything.

"Thank you."

She takes a small sip, but her eyes never leave his face.

"What are you?"

[preserver-lewis.livejournal.com]

"Only a --" Lewis tries to think of an innocuous way to finish the sentence. But he's very young for a cyborg, still on his first mission and barely out of school, and he hasn't learned the (very limited!) skills in deception he will eventually acquire. Besides, this girl must be Company, mustn't she?

He finishes, weakly, with the truth: "a Literature Preservation Specialist."

[cant_kim]

She's not the only one watching the bar -- though Kim's probably noting different things than she is, from her spot by the fire.

On one glance around the room, her eye catches X's; she looks away quickly, but can't help another glance at her, wary and assessing.

[cutting_edgex23]

X looks back, gaze level and calm--at least to all appearances.

She is not sure why the other girl has chosen to be a transvestite, but, well--X has spent a lot of time in New York City.

"Hello."

[cant_kim]

Kim eyes her, not a little suspicious, but nods. "Hallo."

[cutting_edgex23]

"You are new here?"

X is betting not, as the girl's scent is not entirely new.

But it isn't familiar either. Not really.

[cant_kim]

"No," slowly. "I come in a few times before. I know my way around."

[cutting_edgex23]

"You are from England."

Near as X can tell, anyway.

"I have been there, too."

[cant_kim]

"So've lots o' people," Kim mutters.

"London? When?"

[cutting_edgex23]

"When I was young."

X is now sixteen.

"Do you still live there?"

[not-a-horse.livejournal.com]

Across the room, a cloud-white equine turns her head to regard the young woman with a bright blue gaze.

[cutting_edgex23]

X stiffens slightly, and looks back.

She has not had much experience with horses.

It shows.

[not-a-horse.livejournal.com]

::Do not be frightened,:: she projects. ::I don't mean you any harm.::

[cutting_edgex23]

X does not flinch, but she moves to stand, legs shifting to give her a stable position.

The voice in her head is nothing at all like Miss Frost's.

"Who are you?"

[not-a-horse.livejournal.com]

::My name is Megwyn,::, the Companion replies. ::Who are you?::

[cutting_edgex23]

"I am X-23."

It's almost a rote answer, in some ways.

"I do not want you in my head."

[not-a-horse.livejournal.com]

::I'm sorry,:: comes the sending, tinged with overtones of regret.

::I cannot speak with you otherwise, I'm afraid; but you may be assured that I am not reading your thoughts.::

[cutting_edgex23]

X slides a step closer.

Then another.

"You are not a mutant."