it's never enough
WHO: Xigbar & Dirge the Horridorable
WHAT: planning a Secret Retrieval Mission…over a romantic candlelight dinner
WHERE: Le Serpent Argenté : a (surprisingly not-seedy) Seeker cabaret in Zone 3
WHEN: shortly after Dirge recovers from the virus, but right before the Portal is complete = as set up here
WARNINGS/NOTES: Jet fetish? Drunkenness? Not really sure yet. Rated D for Dirge.
Usually when you were dangling carrots in front of a face, there was only so long before the subject was no longer hungry - or at least so full of vegetables that it was time for a change of menu. Yet Dirge didn't get distracted, except by more proverbial carrots. The table was already littered with emptied cubes, with more on the way. Luckily, this particular energon - while not cheap - was of a dessert caliber and wasn't (likely) going to have adverse effects for a while still.
This was, Xigbar had decided, the best part about Dirge: he was the most perfect control group. Ever. There was no need to mix up tactics at all.
Then again, Xigbar's dinner companion, who was oddly-hued even to his peers, maybe wasn't the best choice of a typical specimen. Out of the one hundred and twenty-seven Seekers Xigbar had thus far interviewed, harassed, challenged or otherwise studied in any kind of depth, he had not come across one quite so…insatiable. They were of course usually still vain, brassy and flighty in various intensities, but not so endlessly voracious. Xigbar was beginning to suspect that the only ones that had survived their respective wars were all driven mad by now - but Dirge, from what he had been told, was relatively new, so he didn't have that excuse. It seemed this jet was even younger than the Nobody, which took some effort to process, especially when the average age of Xigbar's most recent conversation partners had been a few million zillion years. Still, everybody had to be young sometime, and the inexperienced tended to be more talkative.
Between being very much out of scale of the normal clientele - plus well-accustomed to being ignored on a day-to-day basis - Xigbar didn't even bother flagging over a server. "Yo. You have gotta try these. Tell me how they taste." He reached his hand through a localized warp field to swipe from the opposite side of the room a tray of sugary fun-colored mini-cubes glazed in oil. "And, you know, while you're at it, you can tell me all about this secret mission of yours any time here. In case you like…forgot."
WHAT: planning a Secret Retrieval Mission…over a romantic candlelight dinner
WHERE: Le Serpent Argenté : a (surprisingly not-seedy) Seeker cabaret in Zone 3
WHEN: shortly after Dirge recovers from the virus, but right before the Portal is complete = as set up here
WARNINGS/NOTES: Jet fetish? Drunkenness? Not really sure yet. Rated D for Dirge.
Usually when you were dangling carrots in front of a face, there was only so long before the subject was no longer hungry - or at least so full of vegetables that it was time for a change of menu. Yet Dirge didn't get distracted, except by more proverbial carrots. The table was already littered with emptied cubes, with more on the way. Luckily, this particular energon - while not cheap - was of a dessert caliber and wasn't (likely) going to have adverse effects for a while still.
This was, Xigbar had decided, the best part about Dirge: he was the most perfect control group. Ever. There was no need to mix up tactics at all.
Then again, Xigbar's dinner companion, who was oddly-hued even to his peers, maybe wasn't the best choice of a typical specimen. Out of the one hundred and twenty-seven Seekers Xigbar had thus far interviewed, harassed, challenged or otherwise studied in any kind of depth, he had not come across one quite so…insatiable. They were of course usually still vain, brassy and flighty in various intensities, but not so endlessly voracious. Xigbar was beginning to suspect that the only ones that had survived their respective wars were all driven mad by now - but Dirge, from what he had been told, was relatively new, so he didn't have that excuse. It seemed this jet was even younger than the Nobody, which took some effort to process, especially when the average age of Xigbar's most recent conversation partners had been a few million zillion years. Still, everybody had to be young sometime, and the inexperienced tended to be more talkative.
Between being very much out of scale of the normal clientele - plus well-accustomed to being ignored on a day-to-day basis - Xigbar didn't even bother flagging over a server. "Yo. You have gotta try these. Tell me how they taste." He reached his hand through a localized warp field to swipe from the opposite side of the room a tray of sugary fun-colored mini-cubes glazed in oil. "And, you know, while you're at it, you can tell me all about this secret mission of yours any time here. In case you like…forgot."