"Oh! Oh." Ace grins. "Yeah. Talked to a cop from Las Vegas... part of the whole 'fireplace and blankets' crowd. Oh, and a gunslinger. I think I can convert him to the ways of boom." She smirks, happily.
Ace frowns, and lightly whacks Tim on the shoulder. "Knock it off, you. What is the deal with everyone thinking I'm going to blow up the bar? Or thinking I'd let someone else blow up the bloody bar? Pyro does not immediately translate to irresponsible git, you know." A bit of her good mood vanishes. She's rather getting tired of that accusation.
Ace sighs, and leans on Tim. "Sorry. Heard that one too many times, I guess." She shrugs, and studies the tabletop. "Didn't used to care what other folks thought of me and m'nitro."
Ace wrinkles her nose at him. "Until you get pulled into some conference where they tell you to confiscate my explosives 'cause I'm a danger to the bar." She points out, mostly without rancor.
One: They probably wouldn't get me to do it. Conflict of interest. Two: i would never take your Nitro away unless you wanted me too. Three: Why the pessimissim?
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*Tim is surprized, for once. But quickly recognises a no threat, and returns the snuggling thingies.*
Well hello there my dear.
*And he doesn't mind being scooted around with.*
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"Hullo." She takes a seat next to him, leaning on the table. "Up to much?"
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Work, as always. Whats new with you?
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*As he plays with her hair.*
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"I... what?" She gives up on making sense of that.
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*Tim attempts to clarify.*
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Which gunslinger? Cause booming in bar is bad.... Maybe i should take back the rocket launcher....
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"Knock it off, you. What is the deal with everyone thinking I'm going to blow up the bar? Or thinking I'd let someone else blow up the bloody bar? Pyro does not immediately translate to irresponsible git, you know." A bit of her good mood vanishes. She's rather getting tired of that accusation.
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I'm teasing you love...but if you'd like me to stop, i shall.
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"Sorry. Heard that one too many times, I guess." She shrugs, and studies the tabletop. "Didn't used to care what other folks thought of me and m'nitro."
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*Tim strokes her nose.*
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"Until you get pulled into some conference where they tell you to confiscate my explosives 'cause I'm a danger to the bar." She points out, mostly without rancor.
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*Cuddling close to her.*
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"Call it post-traumatic whatchimacallit." She doesn't really know why, actually. Seems her mood has been all over the map.