milliways_bar | (no subject)

Epimetheus has settled into a table. Feet up on the opposite chair? Check. Whiskey on the table? Check. Guitar in his lap? Check.

A certain un-invitation propped up on the table next to the whiskey, making him snicker every time he glances at it?

Double check.

Nita also has a table and a drink, but in her case it's a pot of strong black tea. Her manual is open on the table; it's projecting, in silvery-blue lines, a 3D map of what looks like a series of mountain ranges and canyons. Nita is frowning in concentration -- and a little bemusement -- as the projection slowly pans along a particularly stark set of conical mountains.

And last but not least, Carmela has laid claim to a stool at the Bar and ordered a drink that is bright purple, sparkly, and heavily frothed at the top.

She does have a tablet with her that's currently displaying a celebrity gossip website (the text is in no earthly language, but there's something about the formatting that's unmistakably reminiscent of Gawker, and it's just possible that one of the pictures in the article is of a much-loved British actor with great cheekbones). That's just there if she gets bored of people watching, though, and really, what are the odds of that?

[ooc: NaNoWriMo is over! Rejoice with me! Open 'till it scrolls, slowtimes are my favorite thing ever.]

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She should tell his family that!

ACTUALLY.

"Say," he says slowly, "is sneaky one of your many charming qualities, too?"

She totally would.

River eyes him.

"You're plotting things," she informs him.

Note how that's not a no!

"Says who?"

"Just did."

Duh.

"Hearsay," he declares.

River sticks her tongue out at him.

With maturity and dignity and eloquence. Obviously.

"Well," he says, "if I were plotting something, not saying I am, but if I were, someone charmingly sneaky would be very helpful to have around."

o rly.

"Details are a requisite for the conspiracy," River informs him, ~~highly amused VERY SERIOUSLY.~~

Epimetheus picks up the invitation in two fingers and offers it to her.

"Details."

River accepts it, with both hands, as if she's taking a sword or a formal offering on a tray. She turns it around, and studies it.

Eventually, her face sparks with comprehension.

And with silent laughter.

Epimetheus grins broadly.

"You follow?"

"You want an accomplice."

Beat.

She glances at Epimetheus over the top of the paper. Solemnly (ish): "I can watch your back."

He lights up.

"Yeah? I mean, I could watch my own, but who wants to crash a party by themselves?"

"Boring people do," River says sagely.

Mock-sagely. Ish.

One can say a lot about both River and Epimetheus, but boring isn't really on the list!

He snaps his fingers and points at her. "Bingo. Let's not be those people."

River makes a face at him. It says: no fear of that, dude.

"You're Stilts," she explains to him, patiently. And kindly! "It's an ontological inevitability."

Beat.

"I don't have a door to the party," she adds, for the sake of conspiracy logistics. "You'll have to be the shuttle."

"You're Stilts," he retorts, automatically and absently. "Not a problem, I can play shuttle. Got something appropriately ninja chic to wear?"

River reflects on that.

"I don't have shuriken."

But she has a sword!

And, you know, a couple of pretty dresses.

He tsks.

"Oh, well. Backless dress? Thigh holster? Combat boots?"

All of the above?

River makes a face, again. "Visible bras aren't a stealth requisite."

In other words: Two of the above!

The holster is more 'cowboy gunbelt' than 'concealed derringer,' though.

"Got a dress," she adds. "From your wife."

For a casino infiltration... distraction... caper... thing, some time ago.

"--What, from Coyote?" He laughs. "Wear that."

Beat.

"I guess maybe leave the thigh holster at home. No need to be barbaric about crashing."

"She plots too," River informs Epimetheus, as if he might be unaware.

"We'll be very dapper."

He didn't say anything about combat boots, though.

"That we will, Stilts, that we will."

River grins.

They have an accord!