I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark, living in a powderkeg and giving off sparks.

[hesourhostage]

In a Main Gauche sunroom, Andrew Wells is sitting upside down in a chair with his camera, rewatching old footage and snickering to himself. One of these days he's going to find some way to invest in a laptop and some video editing software and actually get this documentary off the ground

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[kineticmachine]

Coincidentally, the bar Bambi's in happens to be the very same one Arlin walks into rather purposefully. He notices her in the initial scan of the room, and does make his way over to where she's sitting at the bar, but orders himself two shots of straight everclear and downs them before acknowledging her presence. Hey, this is friendly, for him.

"Bambi," he says with a small nod. "Never thought I'd see you out of your office, what with your little advertisement."

[theshameofcain]

Bambi vaguely notices him out of the corner of her eye, but she can do the aloof thing too when she wants to. Then again, she's not exactly the friendly type, herself.

She picks up her whiskey and takes a sip. "Arlin," she says, nodding right back. "If I didn't take a break, I'd go crazy, and a crazy forger doesn't lure in the prospective fish."

Hey, the Organization is always looking for new blood or at least people who would be useful whether they want to be made useful or not.

[kineticmachine]

The noise Arlin makes could barely be described as a chuckle, but it's close enough. The narration isn't sure whether Arlin even knows how to laugh anymore anyway. He orders a proper drink, not a shot, this time, and turns to her while the bartender makes it.

"That would lure fish, but not the right kind," he says. "Though I find it hard to believe that there are Wanderers around here that the Organization has an interest in." He says this as though he isn't technically a Wanderer himself. And as though he doesn't know the Organization's take on recruiting.

[theshameofcain]

Bambi scoffs a little, toying with her glass. "There are a lot of useless morons among them, but every so often, you find a gem, and between what they were before and what the Rift did to them, we can find a use for some of them." She leans back a little, locking her legs around the stool so she doesn't tip over when she stretches. "And if all else fails, I'm sure Leona's always looking for another pretty face."

[kineticmachine]

The bartender sets a glass down and Arlin rolls it a bit in his hand before taking a sip. "I know," he says. "Doesn't mean half the people they pick up aren't useless on some level." Though by Arlin's definition, one can quickly become 'useless' by making a simple mistake. And getting yourself killed, which is the fate of most that make mistakes in the Organization.

[theshameofcain]

Bambi seems to be doing everything to that glass now, but actually drinking the whiskey, because now she's twirling it around, thoughtful for a second, before grinning a little. "Spoken like someone who's had a few too many people get themselves killed on your watch. What's the matter, Arlin? Your bumpers gettin' bumped?"

[kineticmachine]

Arlin fixes her with a flat, unimpressed stare. Oh, like he's going to tell her anything. "I've been doing this long enough that a few people killed here and there isn't going to phase me," he says. "I'm just stating an opinion."

He takes another sip, savoring the cold liquor for a moment. It's slightly too warm in the bar for the jacket he's wearing, but he's not exactly going to take it off. The shirt underneath is a bit of a mess, annoyingly. He liked that shirt. "Why, do you know of any plans to bump one?"

[theshameofcain]

"Nope, but who would tell a forger that they're going to bump off an assassin?" She smirks a little around her class and tosses back something that's a little more than a sip. "But if I see anyone who looks suspicious, I'll be sure to let you know."

She finishes off the whiskey and orders another, deciding to change the subject. "Did you hear the Triumverate up and vanished? Not that I can't say good riddance to the lot of them, but it seems like this Organization of ours changes hands every few months. It's a bit of a sham, really."

But she won't leave, because it's a sham that pays well, and when it does function correctly, it functions correctly.

[kineticmachine]

Arlin returns the smirk. He wasn't expecting an answer; you can't really get a straight answer out of anyone in this line of business, anyway. "I'm sure."

He grimaces a bit and takes a much larger sip of his white russian than the previous ones. "I heard, yes, though from what I hear the new management is...less than stable, and meeting with them isn't exactly something one wants to do." And he trusts Romeo's word on that about as much as he trusts anybody's word.

Not that this means he'll leave either; the Organization's given him the closest to a purpose he's going to get this side of the Rift. He'll just keep his distance.

[theshameofcain]

"I hear those rumors, but as long as it's not the clown and the quack, I think I'll survive." The bartender slides her second glass of whiskey over and she stops it deftly. Her motor skills aren't going anywhere yet. "Happy Boy and his merry band of terrorists were getting on my case about how the bosses were stealing his thunder, like that's my problem. I didn't hire them, but now he can cause all the explosions he wants or whatever the fuck it is you do when you're a terrorist cell in Chicago. He has a global scope like any of us, sure, but everyone wants to blow up Chicago. Something about the place just begs for a little destruction."

Which is pretty odd thinking coming from an Angel of Knowledge, really. Well, as long as she doesn't do any of those dirty deeds, herself, she gets to keep her wings.

[kineticmachine]

"Haven't heard those rumors, yet," Arlin remarks regarding these 'clown and quack' people. He takes another long sip of the white russian, though there won't be signs of impairment for quite some time. You don't live to be nearly one thousand years old and not learn to hold your liquor.

He finishes off his drink, catching the bartender's eye for another, then rolls his eyes at Bambi's comment. "Possibly because there's more than enough destruction to go around, these days," he remarks. Oh, he remembers when Chicago was relatively quiet, compared to this. Just like he remembers when the Organization had seen better days. "Explosions were never my thing." He may or may not be making a disgusted face; it all depends on how well you're able to read the slight curl of his lip. Not that he hasn't seen his share of them, just not all at once in the span of a month or so.

[theshameofcain]

"I could care less. If they blow up the city, then I have no business, and if I have no business, they don't pay me. See the dilemma?" She takes another sip of whiskey and her wings start itching. First thing to go is her ability to hold her wings in, she swears.

[kineticmachine]

Arlin makes a noise that could be agreement or could just be acknowledgment that she spoke. "You could always go elsewhere," he says. The bartender slides another white russian over to him, so he takes a sip. Not quite as good as the last one, but it'll do.

[theshameofcain]

"Yeaaah, but who wants to leave the center of the universe. 'Sides I go where the team leaders hang their hats. As long as they want to set up shop in Chicago, Chicago is where the Bambster stays."

That way she can walk up to their fucking bookkeeper and demand her money in person if she wants to.

"You can't tell me you'd leave the center of everything for greener pastures, would you, Arlin?" Not that she thinks he's that sentimental. It could be teasing for all her tone suggests.

[kineticmachine]

Arlin shrugs. If he had anything better to do, he'd have headed for the hills long ago -- besides, he has the tendency to do that anyway, hoisting jobs off onto his kids so he can go escape to the ass-end of nowhere where there aren't any people and just...straighten things out. Never mind that the things that need straightening have been horribly bent by the Rift.

"The center of the universe is usually the place I avoid," he growls. It's not really meant to come out any meaner than it does, but this much prolonged populace control really grates on him after awhile. "But I do what the job calls for, and it calls for Chicago."

[theshameofcain]

"That works too." If Bambi notices or care about the growl, it doesn't register, but the girl's usually unphased by everything until someone puts a gun to her head.

"Either way, I guess it looks like we're stuck in Chicago for the time being." She picks up her whiskey glass and holds it up in a mock toast. "Cheers." And with that the whiskey's gone with one toss. She slaps some money on the table and manages to slide gracefully off her stool.

"See you around, Arlin."