who ; Zaeed Massani and Black One
what ; Catching up
where ; A nondescript bar out in some nonspecific residential zone
when ; Backdated to the evening of June 7th
warning(s) ; This is getting uncomfortably heterosexual
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I don't remember this being one of the benefits )
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Zaeed grunted the last part with an awkwardness to it as he tried to bring his voice down to a more conversational volume. He slides down next to her with the grace of a crumbling mountain, grateful his drink was there by the time he settled. Tossing it back before he made another attempt at conversation, he hissed when he pulled back, whiskey giving him a good burn.
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It's a neutral comment, typical of One. She takes a swallow from her own drink after -- some mix of hard liquors, high proofs -- and leans forward, settling her forearms against the counter.
"Thanks." About the compliment.
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Zaeed wheeled around to face her, the metal of his armor screeching against the chair. "Tell you what" he pointed at her with his whiskey hand, "I'll do more than compliment your outfit. What say you and I play a little drinking game?"
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His suggestion gets her brows raised though, and she dips her head thoughtfully. "You have experience on me but I have the mass. I'll ask what your idea is before I question if this is a good idea, though."
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"Simple, really."
Waving down a service bot to leave the bottle, Zaeed thumbs the neck of it while explaining the details of his little game. "The one holding the bottle takes a stab at some part of the other's past. Or favorite color or some innocuous bullshit like that--basically one of us takes a guess. If the guesser is right--say, you, then I take a drink. If you're wrong, you take a drink. No lying but I won't stop you. Would welcome a chance to get good and soused.
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But then she adds onto that, "Trying to get me to talk more, Zaeed? I'm not as in love with my voice as you are." She means it in a good natured way, though, a hint of humor in her tone. One wasn't really open with information; it wasn't that she was ashamed of much, but it was more the fact she's had 'keep it secret' jammed so far into her head since she was young, it's hard to shake it.
"So, who's going to start?"
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He slides the bottle her way, "You know the saying, ladies first."
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"Alright then. I like a little competition. Let's start out small-- Your favorite color is red?"
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"Keeping the theme. You're favorite color isn't black, you just got so damn used to it to broaden your color spectrum. ]
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One figures she owes him that much at least and pours herself a drink to work on. Once she takes a swig back, she turns to take her turn.
"You had both a mother and a father as a kid." Yep, ramping it up already.
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"Alright, you actually remember them."
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She thumbs her drink a little.
"Alright, fine. You were adopted."
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"We both were, against our will and for a reason beyond our understanding at the time."
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"Your guardians taught you combat skills."
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"It nearly killed you."
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