milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There is a tapping sound coming from one of the tables near the door. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptaptaptappataptap. Believe it or not, this trip wasn't on Lilith's itinerary, if she was the kind of gal to bother with that kind of nonsense (she isn't). She's been ready to go for weeks, brings her big, old satchel everywhere she goes. It's the kind of handbag every girl needs, one stuffed full of cash and weaponry - but the door downright refuses to co-operate. So now she's tapping her finely shaped fingernails on the table and alternately sighing and giving the exit dirty looks.

Feel free to bother her. She's bored.

Tiny Tag: Lilith (Borderlands) Mordecai (Borderlands) January 2011 (Borderlands)

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Mordecai has run out of dirty looks, or perhaps he's simply resigned himself to being patient, but one way or another he's been doing his best to make the most of his time in the bar. It offers a chance to rest, recuperate and just generally relax, a past time that a hard-working killer like Mordecai has rarely been able to indulge in.

"Somebody's having a big ol' pout, aren't we?" Playful teasing announces his arrival behind her. He's not quite as on-edge as she is, but he's obviously ready to go, sporting most of his gear on his persons and the rest upstairs in a sack. "Guess you're having as much luck with leaving as I am?"

"I'm bored." She announces un-necessarily, just a slight edge to her voice.

"Let's do this thing already." She throws her arms up in exasperation, mercifully stopping the constant noise of her fingertips on the tabletop. "I gotta get out of here."

He nods in agreement, but decides not to voice the same opinion. They both want out, and they both know it. Repeating what she's already said won't make it any more likely.

"I'm guessing you've been packed for a while now." Statement, not question. He pulls up a chair and sets down a half-empty glass. Water, nothing exciting. "If it does open, don't fuck off and leave me here. I'm guessing you know which room is mine if you need to find me?"

You know, seeing as she broke in and threatened his life that one time?

She raises her eyebrows, finely arched, at his choice of drink and knocks back half of her own glass of whiskey. Swallowing heavily she snorts at the suggestion.

"I know where to find you." Does he really think she'll be knocking at his door like some novelty intergalactic Girl Scout, a box of mint cookies dangling in one hand? Nope. She fully intends to burn space the second that door opens, with or without him.

She is itchy. Itchy and uncomfortable; in a non-literal sense. Being confined is driving her insane. She wonders how she stayed on that planet for all them years, just her and the boys, without losing her mind.

Maybe she didn't. He'd certainly classify her as her own special kind of crazy, though when exactly that became the case is hard to say.

"I'm not screwing around, Lilith. If I find out you've checked out without me there's gonna be hell to pay. Besides, you need me." He takes a sip of his own drink, trying not to smile as he does so. "Pandora is a big, scary place. Wouldn't want you to be scared."

Her mouth firms, but before the retaliation {I don't need anyone} can make it's way out, he's adding a joke and her lips are curving upwards again.

"Oh please. You're the one who should be scared. Plenty of whores there, tryin' to prey on your sweet, virgin flesh."

She flashes him the world's most condescending smile.

Part of him wants to protest to the 'virgin' comment, but that would just be rising to the bait. Instead he rolls his eyes, mutters something about there being plenty of unscrupulous women right here, and leaves it at that.

"When was the last time you actually tried the door?" He asks, moving on past their previous (and mature) subject. "Five minutes ago? Ten?"

Unscrupulous!?! Well, that's just a downright, dirty lie. Lilith has never been anything less than one hundred percent scrupled, from her head right down to her stompy, stompy boots. Technically, it just depends on who you take as a character reference.

"Five."

She licks her lips, the faint taste of good whiskey lingering on her tongue.

"Notice that you ain't denying it."

He's about to recommend she try again, partly to tease her and partly because he wants to know himself, when she accuses him (again) of his status as a virgin. His untrue status.

"Because I don't really care if you think I'm a virgin, and because you know it's not true. Besides, I prefer to keep my sex life private, thank you very much." He does, actually. He doesn't talk about sex very much, with anybody. Her especially.

"Priss." The Siren accuses evenly, weighing the insult with careful consideration.

"Look, Mord, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of men your age don't have a clue what to do with their tongue."

She should know.

"Right," he replies dryly, leveling her a rather displeased look. Her constant nagging about his sexual prowess is clearly going to be a fun running commentary during their time on Pandora. "And I'm sure you've been a very helpful tutor to many hopeless men. You deserve an award, really."

As if she would know about how good he is (or isn't) in bed. He likes to think of himself as 'above-average', thank you very much. ~~Then again, doesn't everyone?~~

She quirks an eyebrow, fighting desperately to keep her face even; not to break into the laugh she's holding back. Her voice is equally toneless, like explaining something very simple to a small child.

"Men don't learn."

She can't help it. Watching him slowly bubble beneath the surface is just as much fun as it was at thirteen.

"They're just not very good with their hands." Lilith shakes her head sadly with a wistful sigh.

Some things obviously don't change. Her immaturity, for example.

"Maybe some men," he says, waggling ten nimble fingers before her, his hands lacking their usual gloves. The skin is still rough from hard work and plenty of weapon cleaning, but they're still slender, still firm. "But not me, thank you. I'd show you a trick or two, but I don't want your knees to be weak when we head out that door."

"Oh baby, my knees are weak already." She tips back her glass, allowing the last of the liquid slide down her throat.

"Maybe we should try the door again before I'm overcome with lust and unable to resist your advances?" Just like the last forty times they'd seen each other...oh...wait, never mind.

He's simply been careful not to seduce her too quickly. Wouldn't want to jump into anything too quickly. Like, say, a bed.

"Good idea, I wouldn't want to ruin our beautiful partnership with something like sex." He's smiling despite his dry tone, and he pushes his chair back as he waits for her to lead the way. They may as well get pissed at the door together. Maybe afterwards they can get drunk.

"Yeah, nothing says friendship like 'this never happens to me' or 'I'm so sorry, baby." She quips. Her embarrassed man impersonation is surprisingly good, if stereotypical. She'd never make those jokes with Roland or Brick, but Mordecai is here, all-grown-up and ripe for the picking - comedy-wise.

He's her best friend. Of course she's going to imply he's bad in bed. Because the truth, is far harder to admit, even to herself.

She gets out of her seat, long legs unfolding with a grace she'd developed since her teenage years. She reaches for the doorknob and turns.

"Come on, you fucker." Lilith pleads and strangely, it works.

Maybe it's the way she curses at it, or maybe it's their combined desperation, or maybe it's just time. Whatever the reason, the handle turns and the door opens, barely pushed as they both stare at it in disbelief. They look at each other slowly, as if checking to see if the other can actually see this happening as well, and when they both seem sure they turn back to the door.

With an almost giddy eagerness, they both step out the door and let it shut behind them, letting their eyes adjust to the blinding sun. Whatever happens now, they're ready. It's about damn time, after all.

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