gunsforhire | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Church and everyone. Everyone else.
What: Drinks! Chats? Shenanigans. Tipping your bartender.
Where: Eagle & Asp
When: ~~whenever you want it baby~~ 5/21 through the evening
Warnings: surely I don't have to warn everyone about their language right

Church is a regular here. Not as a patron, hell no, but as a bartender. Usually, in fact almost always, in blue (especially his helmet), declaring his side the 'eagle' side. It's a themeing thing, okay? Don't question the theme.

And he really wishes the mercs would find other bars to hang out in, planning their whatevers and darkening doorsteps, but what's he gonna do, call security? So long as he gets paid, then whatever.

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She jabs his side lightly with her elbow. "You can't do that and not offer up at least a photo of it. It's a story I should know anyway, I would have been there if I were around."

Omega smiles a little. "There's no photos. Delta did dance, but there was a man who didn't understand that Delta didn't want to dance with him. Specifically. So I explained it to that man. He wore far too much cologne."

She snorts. Yeah, she knows that type of guy and they always seemed to be the one wearing too damn much cologne. It was like they were carrying around their own plague cloud.

"I hope you left a reminder for him so he though twice next time he tried to pull that stunt."

"Well, we went to a different bar after that," Omega continues. "And then Delta had a few drinks. And, well." He grins. "When he has his surgery, when they give him the stuff for the pain, you have to be there. It is unreal. And then imagine him in a club."

He thinks about this for a minute. "Actually, don't. We'll take him and Maine out, and you can see it first-hand."

That might be the second best part about Delta's surgery now. Second to him getting his hearing back of course.

"Trust me, I'll be there for every part of the surgery. Even the loopy aftermath," she says. "Let me know when for going out. He might feel better about it if his boyfriend is there and he has a group."

"I still owe Sig a night out," Omega muses. "We could ask him and York and Maine and Delta."

Wouldn't that be a party. Maybe Epsilon would watch the littles.

"Night out as a late birthday present, right? Count me in. I think it'd do us some good." It'd be nice to see them on a night out.

"We can try for once Delta's recovered from his surgery."

"Sounds like a plan," Omega says. "I can be the designated driver. Which means I should get my liscense renewed."

"Motorcycle license?" she teases. "I can get a car for you to practice in, but there's going to be a helluva lot of us to shove in one vehicle. Might be easier to use cabs for that outing."

"No," Omega shakes his head. "No motorcycle. Did I show you my new picture?"

"Anyways," he continues, "someone should stay sober. I don't mind doing it."

"Picture?" she asks. What is he going on about? "And yeah, if you want to stay sober I'm not going to stop you."

"I came across a picture online of a guy who was in a motorcycle accident," Omega says, perking up at the memory. "It was a CT scan, he was somehow alive and stable enough for CT. There were vertebrae in his pleural cavity. And as cool as that is, it also looked pretty painful, so I'm not driving a motorcycle any time soon."

"Is that going to stop you from being a passenger?" If it is, she really might need to look into investing in a car instead of borrowing from 479er's garage. It'd make life a whole lot easier.

"Depends on how good your reflexes are." Omega says. "You won't let anything bad happen to me."

He's surprised that came out. But it's true.

She smiles and pats him on the back. "No, I won't. Driving through the city is nothing compared to some of the shit I've had to take my bike through."

"Like what?" Omega asks. What has she been doing, away from them?

"Let's just say there's been more than a few times I've had debris and shrapnel to evade," she says and hides her excited smirk behind her glass as she takes a drink.

"Explosions?" Omega asks. "How did you get in the line, anyways?"

"The line of fire? I've had to cut it close a few times when executing my exit strategy, that's how." It's the kind of excitement she lives for, even now.

"I get in, I take care of whatever mess is thrown my way, and I make it out alive. There's a reason why I'm A-rank."

Omega meant mercenary work, but he's distracted from that train of thought. "You're A-rank? Like Maine?"

She raises a brow at that. "Have been for a while now. I thought you knew."

"No," he says, wide-eyed. A-rank. His sister is cool. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Ten years, but I was using a gun for a couple before that," she answers with a shrug. Self-defense had been crucial. "A woman found me when I woke up alone. She took me under her wing and trained me."

All those times Omega has met a teenager, and thought of his own siblings, and his sister needed the same. And he helped Roxy, as much as she needed, because if it was his own sister, and it was, and someone did... "What was her name?" Omega asks the bartop. "The woman who took care of you."

"Texas," she answers quietly and her gaze is locked on the empty shot glass in front of her. This is as personal as memories get, but he's her brother. He deserves to know.

"When she died, I took up her name since I didn't have another."