gunsforhire | LOG: Crappy take out and some beer

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LOG: Crappy take out and some beer

Who: Texas (native) and Florida (native)
What: Chillaxing and relaxing. Oh and Florida has some feelings and things to talk about.
Where: One of Florida's safe houses.
When: 5/22 evening
Warnings: Possible adult situations and talk? Will edit this if it becomes a thing.

More scarves. He's saving her a bit by making them for her and she's not sure if she needs to thank him or not for shoving Omega into approaching her to hang-out. If only her brother didn't need that shove in the first place.

She's picked up what passes for Chinese take-out on Adaptive and brings it with her to his safe house. She's packed herself an overnight bag and a few things to occupy her time since she has a feeling he'll be knitting at least part of the night. It sounds like he's being doing a whole helluva lot of that lately and she's not sure what 'frustration' has brought that on.

Her bike is parked in the garage next to his Isis and she enters into the house with only a short knock of warning.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I really did love the hellfire bit," Florida laughs. "It came to me in a dream and I just KNEW I had to spread it."

There is nothing more fun, nothing than making up origin stories for his teammates.

"Asshole," she teases and flicks his foot that's resting on her lap still. "I had a feeling that was you. What's the latest and greatest in the merc rumor mill?"

"Maine is a robot," Florida laughs happily. "Or emotionally so. He is incapable of human feeling. And Thief has a long lost love who died and he seeks revenge for. You know, to protect your family."

She shakes her head and smirks. "I should ask York how that's going for him and if Maine has any metal limbs he's hiding from us. Have they heard any of those rumors?"

"I honestly don't know," Florida smiles. "I like hearing them talk about the weirdness of the rumors. Sometimes I lie about making them just to see their reaction."

"How many do you have floating around about me?" she asks. Somehow, she's managed to finish her food and she sets the empty container off to the side so she can rest her hands on his leg.

"Last time I checked, nearly sixty-two."

He's got a pretty good count on how things work out.

Well, damn. She knows she hasn't heard that many rumors about herself.

"Are they all as good as the hellfire one?"

"Some are better," Florida grins. "You got bored of your last job because people got too afraid of you, so you came here where the herds were less wary."

He likes comparing her to a predator.

She lets out a low whistle. "That explains the nicer offers I've been seeing. I had a few jackasses try to low ball me when I first arrived in Gulch, but it hasn't been a problem since."

Florida winks. "Maybe you should spend a little of that money on your older boyfriend. Let me be a nice little cradle robber."

He laughs. He's probably better set up than she is, given how quickly he'd gotten the surgery money together for her. Which reminds him of the pending pictures and he grins.

"I already broke the bank with the take-out," she teases. "And I don't see that chap stick I left out on the table anymore, so I'm assuming you got that."

The peach-flavored one since he claimed that's what she tasted like. She's not exactly one to make anything, but maybe she can find a suitable gift for him while she's out one of these days.

Florida actually blushes a little and looks away. Still, his tongue can't help but flash out over his lips to taste said chapstick. "Yes, I got that."

"Cute." She smirks and runs a finger down the arch of his foot. "I thought it'd be a nice reminder of our time together."

Florida shudders at the touch. He hadn't realized his feet were so sensitive.

"It is quite pleasant," Florida allows. "And all I got you were scarves."

Yeah, he intends to keep trying to impress her with his skillz.

She repeats the motion before working her fingers and palms into the muscles of his foot for a massage.

"I've already been wearing the purple one whenever I'm out for fun. Looking forward to having some others to mix it up with," she replies. Business called for her usual Soldier scarf. But for everything else? She's starting to enjoy the anonymity a simple change in attire grants her when out and about.

"I... I know," Florida mumbles. "I saw you at the bar the other day with Omega. You two looked so happy together, to be spending time. I didn't want to interrupt. It wasn't my place."

The woman he has feelings about and the man he wants to offer 'therapy' to are... different.

And then her fingers get into just the right place and Florida moans, a bit loud, and definitely enough to be embarrassed. "Fuck I need a spa day."

That's enough to get him to moan? Well damn. Her hands sure as hell aren't stopping now, not when she can coax that kind of reaction out of him.

"Come say hi next time, I don't mind. And if you're going to plan a spa day, I might have to tag along just so I can see you in a face mask with cucumbers over your eyes."

"You could see me like that tonight if you want," Florida groans in pleasure, just melting into the couch at her touch. "I relent on my beauty routine when you're around. I work hard for these looks."

Then he hesitates. "So.. uh... I'm not entirely honest about that. The planet I come from, it's one of the ones where gene-modding was more popular before it was highly discouraged socially. Some things, including longer lifespans and reduced rate of aging, get passed on today. Thus..."

He makes a wide gesture at himself. "I sold well when I was doing my brothel training, because I still looked about fourteen, even if I was this tall. All baby-faced and smooth."

Edited 2015-05-23 21:04 (UTC)

The fact that looks that young fetch a higher price is enough to make her almost gag. Her expression is tight-lipped as she remains silent for a moment, focusing solely on what her hands are doing.

"Glad you're not stuck doing that anymore," she eventually says. "I already have an idea of how old you actually are. How long of a lifespan are we talking?"

"Not too much beyond what current medical tech on your normal, non-Adaptive, planet allows for," Florida answers. "It is estimated that, if I am lucky and healthy, I will easily make approximately a hundred and twenty before I need the care a person on most planets require past a hundred. Which means, all told, I could be looking at roughly, if I'm VERY lucky, a century and a half."

Of course the life span on Adaptive is lower. So many people dying due to the environment. It built up in the body and slowly wore you down.

"Aren't you fortunate. You'll have to forgive me when I start wrinkling sooner."

Even without Adaptives environmental toll, this job doesn't lend itself to graceful aging.

"You are a beauty who will age gracefully," Florida chides, reaching out (though it is a bit of a stretch with his foot in her lap) to stroke her cheek. "I've seen a lot. I am certain."

She presses her cheek into his hand and shrugs. "We'll see about that. I plan to live a nice, long life."

"Well maybe you can make time for a poor old man like myself," Florida laughs, falling back onto the couch.

His world is...

Better now.

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