Gigabyte 036 - Dinner and a Movie

[electronichound]

It's Friday. Will we see a new brace of arrivals?

Fred, you mentioned some time ago about stir-fry.

Comments

[fred_cassidy]

It's possible I did. I'm talkative.

[roughcriminal]

Amen to that.

[electronichound]

Quiet, you.

I believe you stated that you were quite good at making stirfry and you'd make me some, Fred.

[roughcriminal]

Sing it, sister!

[That is, in fact, half-sung in the manner of fabulous church ladies everywhere.]

[fred_cassidy]

Shut up, Whiskey.

At the risk of ruining my mystique, stir fry is easy.

Batou, I'll make some if you want.

[roughcriminal]

Hallelujah

[electronichound]

Someone pour Whiskey into an elevator so he's not crippled by a flight of stairs.

Which kitchen, Fred?

[fred_cassidy]

I don't know....

Sergei's. I know it's supplied and we can chase the nervous kid out.

[roughcriminal]

Pouring whiskey into an elevator doesn't make them drunk, even if they're AIs. Just a little learning I picked up.

Are we eating?

[electronichound]

We're eating.

The nervous child is one Herz Hessian, I believe. Favoured by the crew, so just shooing him out should be sufficient.

[Batou's already on his way, walking down the stairs.]

[fred_cassidy]

Nice kid, needs to relax.

[The elevator dings in the background.]

Whiskey, while I assume the alcohol has shocked your system to the point where you no longer have an immune response, you're not allergic to anything, are you?

[roughcriminal]

Sobriety. Jail. Peas.

Fucking peas.

[AND WHISKEY COMES FROM ABOVE. Or just strolls in.]

[electronichound]

You're allergic to peace, perhaps, but not peas.

[Batou clicks his communicator off as he enters Sergei's Bar and Grille and notes Whiskey.]

Whiskey.

[fred_cassidy]

Whiskey, when you stop drinking and feel horrible, that's withdrawal, not an allergy.

[Fred is heading to Sergei's from the elevator bank in his usual not-so-purposeful saunter. He's within shouting distance, but is still talking into his comm.]

[roughcriminal]

Smokey.

[Whiskey looks up at Batou, then punches him companionably in the shoulder and goes to see what he can find in the kitchen. SCORE. Wine and some cookies.]

PEAS AND SOBRIETY, BROTHERS. PEAS AND SOBRIETY. Mortal enemies. Choke me up and make me die. It's horrible.

[electronichound]

I wonder if there'll actually be anything in your skull when they do your autopsy, or just some martini olives.

[Batou follows Whiskey into the kitchen. It's neat. Ordered. Sorry, Herz, but they're about to make a terrible mess.

Batou takes a cookie sheet and carefully begins to tear it into a square to make an origami horse out of. Rip, rip.]

I assume neither of you are vegetarians.