(Untitled)

[alnesf_uno]

Miranda is not the ideal place to be, Nene knows. Wherever he goes, there's still someone after him, still someone who knows his face and his name and what he has. Even if Cuervo and Angel are both dead - though, Nene doesn't ever let himself imagine that scenario for very long - and even if they're in peace keeper custody and their share of the

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[manusgemini]

His days are counted in highs now, and in coming back down so he can go up again. It isn't even a high; it's just being normal. The real highs went away a long time ago. It's fuel for what he's doing, just like Florence runs on, because he has to keep moving, find Hobbes or Heider and kill whoever he gets to first.

And then kill the other one. And then, well, who the fuck cares anymore.

He's hit a baseline now, moving easily, here for a drink and maybe some info if he smells any. Maybe something else if the right thing strikes him. He leans against the wall, glass in his hand, and somehow over the noise of the music he hears the language, smooth and guttural both at once. Interest piqued, he moves into the corner, looking down at the man at the table, eye flickering from infrared to ultraviolet to visible spectrum and back again.

"Hal matha hacerta?" he says, low. He speaks a little Maghresh. He's had to learn a few words. Business.

[alnesf_uno]

It's not often that Nene hears his own language outside of home, certainly not in a dirty bar in the middle of nowhere significant. And considering that Nene hasn't really been home in over ten years, it's more than a little disconcerting, his eyes flicking immediately to the man standing above him, though his vision is blurry from however many drinks he's had now.

"Matarto al hombre," he answers, his voice a low murmur. It's not a lie, of course, but it's also nowhere near the truth. Something tells Nene that this man, whoever he is, might already know that.

His head still tipped up, he leans back and his hands fall to rest on his thighs, nearly a move of submission. Though, to Nene, it feels like more of a challenge. Make my life worse than it already is. I dare you.

[manusgemini]

He arches an eyebrow. "Bueno." He's got no reason to be here, no reason to be talking to this man, but there's needle tracks starting on the inside of his arm and he only lives to kill people now and reasons don't mean a hell of a lot anymore.

He slides into the seat opposite the man and leans forward, half smiling and cocky, faintly scornful. "You think that sets you apart in here? You fuckin' born yesterday, amigee?"

[alnesf_uno]

Nene raises an eyebrow and still doesn't move.

He's only come in for a drink, a plan to forget about the past several weeks even as he drowns himself in it. Maybe on some level he's expected to be noticed given where he is and they type of people that doubtlessly frequent it. On another level, Nene wonders if anyone will ever notice him again and if it matters.

"A puedo matarto usted," he says with aching casualness. The only weapon he has on him is a Brignone65, tucked away in a shoulder holster currently hidden under his suit jacket. But, it's loaded and Nene's never had a problem firing it before and he sure as hell won't start now.

[manusgemini]

"You'd never make it to your gun, pija," he murmurs, smiling, looking supremely unconcerned. His reflexes... those, at least, haven't suffered at all from the Snake, and he saw the gun the second he switched to infrared. "Hal lematha deseeta matartee, anyway? I'm just having a quiet drink." His smile widens and his teeth flash. He's not entirely sure what game this is, yet, but it might be fun.

"Just like you."

[alnesf_uno]

It doesn't look much like a smile to Nene, but more of an animal bearing its teeth. Maybe it's the light.

He shifts finally and leans forward, his arms resting on the edge of the table as he studes the man more carefully. The fact that he knows enough Maghresh to carry on something of a conversation says a lot about him, a lot about what he does, anyway. This is a man not to be fucked with.

But, Nene is certainly not to be fucked with either.

"Hal matha hacerta?" Nene asks after a long moment, turning the question back on him as he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes.

[manusgemini]

He laughs, short and harsh, and drains the rest of his glass in one swallow. "I answer that and we're here for a fucking week." He falls silent, looking at the man across from him, eye flickering again in the dimness. No reason to tell him.

No reason to not tell him, either. And hell, maybe he knows something.

"Looking. Dos hombres." He half smiles again as though he's amused by it all. "First one I find, I kill him. Then I find the other one and kill him too." He shrugs. "Es al hayaa."

[alnesf_uno]

His movements are slow as he tucks the cigarette between his lips and sets the tip alight. Keeping his eyes on the man, he inhales slowly and then flicks his tongue over his top lip as he lets it out.

"Es al muerte," he says, voice lower from the nicotine as a plume of white slips out, snaking into the air, drifting and curling in on itself before dissipating once more. "Hal kana uno de hom?"

It's almost hopeful and, for an instant, makes him wonder if Angel somehow made it out alive and this man is hunting down both of them. The Twins. Maybe Angel is out doing the same as Nene, wandering the cluster in a stolen shuttle, trying to find his way back, trying to find Nene. Maybe the voices have gone.

[manusgemini]

"You want to be?" He wasn't planning on it, not because he has any particular scruples, but because killing is messy and it can get awkward and he really prefers to keep it to a minimum. And this man doesn't look like someone he'd want to kill. Too nice to look at, for one thing.

He fingers his empty glass, leans forward a little more and nods at the cigarettes. "Taparté." It's not a question and it's not meant to be one.

[alnesf_uno]

The question is harder than it should be, requires actual thought and Nene doesn't know how to answer it. However, it answers his own question, the one he'd kept silent.

This man, whoever he is, isn't after Nene. Nene almost finds that disappointing.

He glances down at the cigarette dangling from his own lips and then back up again, arching an eyebrow. It's not a request, Nene recognizes that and for an instant, Nene's tempted to tell the man to fuck off. Get his own. Cigarettes aren't cheap.

But then, money means very little to Nene anymore.

"Hal fii cambio?" he asks, though he's already reaching back into his suit jacket.

[manusgemini]

He watches the man's hand move, eyes flicking briefly back up to his face. Cold, detached, faintly challenging. It feels almost as if they're circling each other, looking for a weak point or room to strike, though what either of them would be fighting over God only knows.

"Hal tadesee?" He's not about to pay for the fucking things, but he might be willing to give something up. He glances behind them at the bar and then back at the man.

"Buy you a drink?"

[alnesf_uno]

After some thought, Nene nods and flicks out a single cigarette with his thumb and offers it to the man, head tilted to one side as he studies him. He's larger than Nene, broader and likely stronger, his muscles not unlike Angel's. Nene knows he wouldn't beat this man in a hand-to-hand fight, but he might when in reflexes.

If it comes to that.

"Hal tacomprender superficiee?" he asks casually with another tilt of his head, body shifting slightly to push a hand into the pocket of his pants for the lighter.

[manusgemini]

He takes the cigarette and waves away what he's pretty sure the man's going for, reaching into his jacket for his own lighter. "No." Light flares in front of his face and he inhales deeply, letting the smoke fall out of his mouth, more than an exhale.

"Tajara." It's not a question, either. The man's running from something, anyway; he has the smell of it on him. It's a smell Mike knows far too well. It's followed him around for years. "Don't worry. No andee amor para al PK." Not even interest in a bounty, if there is one. He needs money, sure, but he can make it other ways before he falls that low.

Though, he's more and more aware that he has less and less room to fall.

[alnesf_uno]

Nene has no reason to believe him, no reason to trust him, but he finds himself not questioning it. Though, it could be because he has something that's almost like a death wish anymore. Without Angel, the money means nothing. It's blood money.

"Hal pues qué hacer amora?" asks Nene, holding his cigarette loosely between two fingers and tapping the ash off the end as he sinks lower into his seat, legs spread comfortably beneath the table. Weeks ago, it might've been something of an invitation and even now it might seem that way.

If anything, that's bourne of habit.

[manusgemini]

He gives the question thought, cigarette held almost delicately between two fingers. Maybe more thought than it deserves. For an instant Neil's face flashes through his mind and he fights back a shudder; that's not love and it never was, not even at its best, because even at its best it was built on lie after lie.

What, then? Money? Sex? Fuel? The feeling of breaking gravity, breaking atmo, busting up through the stratosphere and punching a hole through the last of the air?

He inhales again, letting smoke drift out through his nose. "Nadié." He pauses and then smiles thinly.

"Al Serpienté," he amends casually, pushing back from the table and heading to the bar without a look back to get their drinks.

[alnesf_uno]

He arches an eyebrow at that, a slow smile curving one corner of his mouth, his gaze turning a little darker, but more inviting at the same time. It might have something to do with the fact this man doesn't know him or at least claims to not know him. It might have something to do with the promise of Snake.

Might not.

"Hal hacer algún tarequerir?" he asks, still casually.

Money can buy a lot and with as much as Nene currently has, he can buy a large amount of anything he desires. And he knows where to get any of it. His typical drug of choice isn't Snake, but he does have some. A small amount. But, it's not often that Nene feels charitable.