[Action]

[roughcriminal]

[Whiskey is particularly good at getting into places most people would rather he not be: beds, churches, banks, and now, one of the recreation rooms that had been locked, presumably because pool cues are too similar to weapons for the passengers to play with

Comments

[electronichound]

[Iggy Pop.

Batou opens the door and glances in to see Whiskey drunk as usual and playing pool. He stands up and enters, shutting the door behind himself.]

I usually break the doors down. Your solution is more convenient.

[roughcriminal]

[It startles Whiskey, and he spins around, cue in hand, the little robot unfolding, becoming sharper, longer, taller. He grins a little sheepishly at Batou, rapping the robot on the head with his cue. It folds back down.]

Smokey! You gotta warn a guy.

[His grin's... slightly off, slightly less. Distracted. But he seems game. He drags a hand through his hair and takes the bottle from where the robot dropped it, drinking before offering it over.]

You play pool?

[electronichound]

[Batou takes the bottle and draws from it, then sets it on the side of the table. He smiles, a low chuckle in his chest.]

Just how badly do you want to lose, WHiskey?

[roughcriminal]

I'm good at losing, brother.

[He abandons the pool cue though, wandering over to pick up a dart and start using it to pick his nails. The pink is starting to fade.]

C'mere.

[He hoists himself up to sit on one of the tables.]