A tall young woman walks into the bar. She's wearing pyjama bottoms and a spaghetti strap top, but her hands are filthy and her bare feet and the ends of her trousers are caked in blood which may or may not be her own and which clashes badly with the pale pink cotton. There are dark circles under her blue eyes, and right now her cobweb of scars
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Comments 124
"We had that problem at the shop once. Creatures everywhere. We had to fumigate to get rid of them. Impervious to your standard rat trap."
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Nix blinks large blue eyes at him over her mug of tea. Milliways. But Bar does some seriously good fried bread, so all is well with her world.
"Vermin infestations suck, don't they?"
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Is he... yes, he's actually smiling as he shakes his head with an odd sort of nostalgia.
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"Ours was definitely vermin." And by now extremely in the past tense, and Nix, forking a small mountain of bacon into her mouth, permits herself a small smug smile at a job well-done once she swallows.
"Coulda lived without it happening at 4 in the bleedin' morning, though?" she offers.
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Gene? Is slightly pissed. But the smell of the full English caught his attention and then, so did the state of the woman.
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"Surprise vermin infestation."
It hasn't occurred to her that he might be referring to her scars: she's not used to anyone acting like they're unusual.
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'Rifle on rats?'
Seems a bit extreme but it's not like he doesn't approve.
'...no rat did tha' t'you.'
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'Vermin', after all, can encompass a hell of a lot of things.
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"You missed a spot," Cal tells her helpfully.
He doesn't move to sit near her, at least not yet. Even with someone less volatile, the whole blood-and-gun thing would function as a pretty good indication that tolerance for social interaction might not be at its highest right now. With Nix, leaving the first physical move up to her is probably the smartest thing to do.
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"Shurrup, you."
(She's actually almost too tired to be volatile. 4am battles in filthy underground tunnels will do that for you.)
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Rats are really good at that, too. Something about the eyes.
Cal himself is still eying Nix, but his entire posture is casual - he's slumped in his chair in a studied sort of way that tends not to come as naturally as it used to. He's used to the chaos of Nix's world by now, and has learned to keep his responses low key. Mostly. Usually.
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Breakfast first. Manners later.
"Y'alright?"
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