gunsforhire | Log: Crossed Paths

Entry tags:

Log: Crossed Paths

Who: Louisiana (Original), Open
What: Moving out and about.
Where: Market District (Weapons, Helmet, Market Stalls, etc. Pick your poison)
When: Thursday 12/17 Afternoon
Warnings: N/A (Will Change if Necessary)

It has been roughly two months since she decided to return back to the city and so far there wasn't much that was keeping her interests for long. The mercenary had all but melted back into the shadows for the time being, leaving the safe house that her and Maine had laid mutual claim to in order to do shopping and jobs when necessary.

Other than that her sociability had taken a hit as much as Delta's face had a while ago. It was rather clear most people would've been better off without her return. Though as if she cared about it to be honest. It was much easier to avoid people than to try and put on a front all the time.

However it was one of those days where it would be wise to move around the city. It wouldn't do her any good to stay locked away on her data tablet for the afternoon. This energy had to be used in a suitable fashion and besides might as well maybe poke around for Christmas presents.

There was the weapons shop as well as the helmet one. She could always poke around those to see if they got any new mods in as well as anything that might seem suitable to the few she'd be willing to spend credits on. Maybe even wander among the fresh market to pick up things for the week since she owed Maine a lot in terms of food. That and well keeping her sane after things fell apart for the both of them. Certainly needed to make up for that nonsense even if the both of them tried to play off as being alright with what happened.

The last thing she had on her mind was also the one who soon followed her back from Armonia. He already caused so much shit that he should've stayed where he was. However new clients that were willing to pay more without knowing better had drawn the asshole over plus more free reign in a non-Control oriented city did have its allure. No that trash can didn't need to be fussed over. Focus.

There were better things that could be done with her time now.

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There are always tasks to be done for Smithson, and not all of them leave Delta cramped up in the stuffy back room. Today, for instance, he had been sent out into the slowly gathering chill of the city to acquire a mod needed for some work for a client. Smithson, lacking the specific materials necessary, had sent Delta out to collect on a trade with another dealer at a mod only shop. In his hands, wrapped up carefully, are the mods he's supposed to trade for the one they need for the job, and Delta takes this task very seriously. This isn't cheap equipment he's carrying, and his boss trusts him with this work.

A point of pride that means nothing when he walks in and sees a familiar helmet. Or, well, passingly familiar. He's seen it in person only a few times before, with twice sticking sharply in his mind: once the night he'd come over to learn to cook fish from Maine and to meet the owner of the helmet; again the day she decided he needed a broken nose.

But, well, there was a chance that wasn't her, right? Nervous and clutching the wrapped mods to his chest, Delta moved up to the counter and prayed not to be noticed as he called out for the owner. He's here for a job, nothing more, nothing less. And even if it is her, she's totally going to ignore him. He hopes. Please.

Thing is, Delta, when you call out to someone, the other person in the room is going to notice you much faster. Louisiana was scoping through what was out on display when the noise caught her attention and gets her to survey the place before settling out on a rather familiar green helmet. She instinctively clenches a hand at the sight of him but winds up settling back down.

He wasn't worthy of putting that much effort in and besides that family had already been through plenty of enough. So what exactly was she supposed to do with this? They were both at the counter respectively and there was no need to take off helmets really...so a semblance of playing nice could be made.

"I want to assume that you were able to pick up those frames," Louisiana remarks.

Delta goes stiff when she speaks. Why couldn't she just pretend he wasn't there? Why couldn't he not be afraid of her? Of what she might do if she knew for even a second that he was maybe, just maybe, getting a touch closer to better for all that he missed Maine.

"I... did," he says slowly, trying to force his voice toward calm. Does she know about his recent fool attempt to practically plead to be back in Maine's life and it's flat out failure? Probably. Does she then know about the message he sent saying he'd never make a move again, that he wanted to be civil at least, for the sake of his family? Maybe not.

"They fit well. I suppose you paid and not your asshole of a father figure?"

He can't help that intended to be biting and likely falling far short of it remark. Florida has been clearly continuing his attempts to make Delta miserable, and doing a good job in short bursts.

That was a rather understandable tension entering the man's shoulders, enough that she would almost see him jerk at the sound of her voice. So there was some lingering effects from the threat and punch in the grocery store which didn't exactly bother her much. Less work for her to do plus the message remained ever clear in this particular Ai brother.

"Bon. Never went in to check if you did." Once more another admittance that she didn't exactly care too much for Delta but was willing to give him a small inkling of respect at the very least. However she wasn't a rabid animal that needed to be talked down.

Watch it Delta with how you speak of her family though. "I did indeed. ...Has he been bothering you still?"

"Would you be in the slightest bit surprised if I said yes, he is still tormenting me for actions that don't involve him in any way, shape, or form?" Delta counters, softening his voice. Please, just leave him alone. Maine will heal, he's too strong not to. He's not pathetic like Delta is, and always has been.

"He's taking it too far, which I believe is his style, and there is nothing I can do to stop him without creating drama within the family. I do not wish Texas to come after either of you for what you did."

Which, in retrospect, he regrets. Maybe it would have been better to let her pound them both for him.

"To be quite frank with you, no I'm not at all surprised that he has been doing that," Louisiana relents. That had always been Florida's style. Over doing things to make sure they got done without any certainty of failure though some things didn't require that. Delta included.

She leans down enough to rest her arms on the counter. "I appreciate that. However you might not be able to but I can. I'll talk to him."

"The efficacy of such a conversation is questionable," Delta shrugs off, maybe resting just a little to see her leaning against the counter. Just a little. "He delights in torment."

"Yes well you're not exactly the one here who has his respect right now. So an attempt will be made regardless of your skewed outlook on its chances of success," Louisiana counters. "How's the family doing?"

"Less than amazing. We were required to withdraw Theta from his school due to an incidence of bullying so cruel that the children broke both of his hearing aids," Delta informs her. Though he's not sure why she should care.

"We are also in the process of seeking a new house due to Omega's certainty that your colleague will seek us out and torment us."

The problem with ordering all the family presents at once is that he's expected to pick them up. It's not so bad, now that Sigma has time, but it does mean a special trip to the market district.

He climbs off the shuttle, proudly wearing his newly-orange Venator helmet. He hasn't even had time to show--

--Louisiana?!

"Louisiana!" Yes, that's her. He hurries through the crowd, waving to get her attention.

She was trying to look over the various store fronts. There had to be something that would be good to get her partner maybe even Oquirrh if she pokes around since the market boasted quite a decent selection of places. However the shout catches her immediate attention, head turning towards the noise.

Was that...Sigma? Certainly was looked like it but the helmet was colored differently and the new visor. The change gets a small smile from her.

"Salut, Sigs."

"Hey!" She can't see how much he's smiling. He's been so excited to show her the new colors. Blue is her color, and though he hasn't minded wearing it, none of his clothes have matched.

"You shopping too?"

"I am, yes. Look at you though," she answers. Louisiana knocks a knuckle against the forehead of his helmet. "Proudly wearing that obnoxious color of yours. At least you match now and Jersey would be rather pleased with that visor of yours."

Sigma ducks out of her reach, shaking his head to settle his helmet again. "Of course I'm proud!" he says. "Isn't the red cool? The tech did such a good job with it!"

"It's rather nice knowing that you're in your own colors now rather than mine. Though I doubt anyone could get us two mixed up regardless," she muses. "Delta didn't help?"

"I wouldn't want to steal your thunder," he teases back. "...or mess up your reputation."

"Well, I guess Smithson's outsources all their paint work. That's why it took so long to get done; I didn't want to have to switch helmets again during finals. Especially when I'm still getting to know all your mods. Trading would've messed me up."

"You'd be more of the latter," she remarks lightly. "I would hope that you'd be staying out of my sort of work though. Less trouble that way you know."

Louisiana picks up her path of aimless wandering once more though no indication of not allowing Sigma to follow. "Makes sense. Get money regardless since they have to act as the middleman. Good thinking though I could always take out some of the less necessary ones."

"We do have very different skill sets," he admits. "And you more skill than me."

He follows a step behind her. "I'm still figuring out what I need, really. I reinstalled some of my basic scientific programs that I need for my labs. I'm afraid to delete some of the more mercenary programs in case I need them someday."

Holidays are his favorite time of the year. Before this one, in the past, Florida's holiday zeal has been thrust at his teammates, or whoever they worked most closely with. These days, though, he's got a family to shop and knit for, which means his teammates need different gifts for once. So here he is, bouncing between market stalls to select small, heartfelt gifts that, for once, he didn't make.

And when he pops up behind Louisiana he knows who it is without hesitation.

"I'm not sure what else to get you or Maine for Christmas, my dear," he greets his pseudo-adoptive daughter as he comes up behind her. "I was thinking maybe I could get him some custom made sweets, but it occurs to me that I don't much know what he likes in term of sweets other than pie."

Louisiana had a couple of small bags stowed away in a backpack, mostly for her small team and a couple of things specifically for her partner that hopefully would find no fault in what she had selected for him. She finishes up another transaction a stall before slipping back into the crowd.

She however pauses at the voice and turns to glance back at him. "Well you could always do a mix of cookies. Though it sounds as if you already have something figured out if sweets is the 'what else' to his gift."

"Cookies may indeed work," Florida notes with a smile. "But what do I get you my dear?"

He just loves hearing her voice. Sounds nice. God he misses his girl when she's not around.

York isn't often found in the weapons store, not using his as often as the others and therefore not wearing through them so quickly. Still, there does eventually come a time when he needs his rifle or pistols fixing, or he's in charge of stocking up the ammo this time. He's also on the lookout for potential Christmas presents for his teammates. As usual, he's behind on Christmas shopping.

He's still got his helmet on, privately piping music that he's nodding his head to as be browses while his rifle is in maintenance.

Louisiana has sneaked inside to take a peek at the new scopes that are in for battle rifles and DMRs when she notices the rather familiar tan helmet at the counter. She gives a call of his name but it seems that he's preoccupied with something inside of his helmet.

Moving up to his right side, she leans back on the counter before giving a slight knock on his helmet to see if she could snag his attention.

Something hits the side of his helmet and he automatically ducks as he whips around. It's rare for fights to break out in here, but when they do, they usually don't end well on account of the many weapons, and he's only got one pistol on him with his rifle in maintenance.

Then he sees Louisiana and goes a bit red under his helmet as he straightens up again and turns his music off. 'Ah... Hey, Lou.'

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Log: Crossed Paths

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