Cheers, darlin'. [so very open]
Characters: Roy Mustang and YOU, of course.
Location: The Northern Lights.
Rating: G... I guess?
Time: Early evening (December 2) until the small hours of December 3~
Description: Mustang in a bar, with booze. You know you want it.
( Best way to spend one's vacation. )
Location: The Northern Lights.
Rating: G... I guess?
Time: Early evening (December 2) until the small hours of December 3~
Description: Mustang in a bar, with booze. You know you want it.
( Best way to spend one's vacation. )
Re-L had always been a night owl. When she was young Deadalus had always commented about how she seemed much more alive - lively - in the shadows of moonlight, and sluggish under the artificial sunlight that glared down on them from Romdeau's domed ceiling. In that way he was correct, the moon was more welcoming than the glaring sun. Later, it would almost seem ironic as Vincent would explain to her how her realized clone had burned up under the true sunlight that had begun to shine down on a cold Earth that had long missed it. Here in Death City that was no different, the soft click of her heeled boots against the floor strong, almost stomping with their assuredness, though some odd compulsion - no doubt a habit that had its roots in something she was taught as a young adult, compelled her to still strap her gun to her thigh as she usually would, despite the fact that she was well assured no one would really bother her here.
After all, Pino had called her 'scary lady' for the longest time for a reasonBut she almost seems shocked ( ... )
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He was lucky, it seemed: lots of familiar and friendly faces were turning up to see him. Roy smiled, visibly pleased at having company once again.
"What's your poison for tonight?"
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"Let's just say if this place doesn't have a good, strong, red wine I may have to relocate." Hey, old wines were only for the social elite in Romdeau, and pretty much all she was allowed to drink there, being the Regent's granddaughter. Hard liquor doesn't even come to mind, much less something less.. fussy like beer.
"It looks like your break is agreeing with you."
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"Does it? No more dark circles under my eyes and strained smiles?"
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"You haven't gotten taller." Though that isn't necessarily the most fair thing to pick on Roy about, she likes to joke about it. Not everyone can be made to be her height, after all, though that may have been a design fluke on Deadalus' part. when her drink arrives she gives a curt nod to the bar tender in her typical form, crossing her legs under the table with only the slightest bit of difficulty due to their length. There's something almost aristocratic about the way she swirls it in the glass before taking a drink.
"But, you do look as though you aren't running on little sleep, anymore." Not that she looks much better with that blue make-up removed, but it serves its purposes. "I would say less shoulder tension, though, more so than smiles."
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"Well, it's a start."
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"I heard, though, that you had to be forced to even go on this." And she looks the slightest bit amused about that, turning to inspect people as they pass by their table from time to time, blue eyes alert and astute. But then again maybe it's just the fact that she's 19 and, despite how oddly adult she is, age denotes that any chance at a vacation means she'll take it, no matter how dedicated she might have been to her job as inspector.
"You can't go on leading if you're too tired." What is this? Advice with Re-L time? She seems to realize she might be overbearing as usual, leaning back a little in her seat though she still keeps the same delicate hold on the stem of her glass. "It looks like you've had a lot of company tonight, though."
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Still, Roy was patient. The concern that others show for him, even if it's purely professional, never ceased to surprise him.
"I've had a surprising number of people drop in on me tonight, yeah. It's nice, though, seeing you all outside of the office and the patrol routes."
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"You act like you don't lead a major organization and people don't know your face." She seems mildly amused by that, sipping at her glass as her foot bounces. She dislikes larger crowds, normally, and it was easy to avoid when it was just herself, Vincent, Kristeeva, and Pino, but here it was a lot harder, and she was sort of forced to get used to larger crowds of people, since she wasn't afforded the privilege of Romdeau where the crowd would be broken up by Iggy before she went through it.
"It's kind of funny, you know - Roy Mustang the Death City celebrity."
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That was his honest take on it: bewildering. Things had been very different in his initial months in Death City. Then again, he had been a different person, and not known as much as he did now.
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"I feel like I should tell you that it will get old, and quickly." As a child she'd taken a lot of entertainment in being called the 'princess' of Romdeau, given all of those special opportunities and afforded all sorts of titles and gifts from ladder climbers who wished to earn their way, through her, into her grandfather's favor.
"Look out for flatterers and ladder climbers in your position. I dealt with that a lot." She catches herself again with another sip of wine.
"Sorry, here I am new and nineteen and I'm versing you on position"
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That was a point he had driven home for many a naysayer in his time.
"I've had to deal with them myself back at home, but no one of that sort has turned up here just yet. I think that there must have been at least one at infiltrating the Watch and possibly ousting me from my position before, though."
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"You're talking to a woman who lived in a state of constant societal hierarchy - that's refreshing to hear." Because, after all, ages and titles were not just those, they were everything. People threw out names and titles like they were the lynch-pin of their arguments and, often, unless the other citizen was herself, or those in the same upper class structure that she was - it would be enough to finish an argument.
Here it was relieving to see that those egos could exist, but people hardly acknowledged them.
"Hm. I'm not sure that's true. I've run in to more people who prefer to talk than take action here that I find necessary. There's an odd one who also responded to my text the other day - I forgot his name since it was almost laughable - but he says he's intent to show me he's 'made of better things.' " The finishes off her glass of wine and casually tips her finger at the bar tender for another.
"I say this place could use a little spicing up."
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Death City had more than enough to deal with. In fact, Roy was of the opinion that the majority of the guests didn't grasp the magnitude of the situation they had at hand. Too much complacence. Too much reliance on those few who were inclined to move. To do.
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"Well, I'm also used to a lot more action." She shrugs her shoulder lamely, nodding her head and flashing a smile at the bartender as a drink is put into her hand. Having a place that was generally peaceful except for the occasional attack here or there - well. It certainly beat out the possibility of being threatened at every turn.
"Not that I miss it, it's just.. a change of pace."
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The attacks had, after all, increased. The witches were getting more aggressive, more twisted in their practices.
Death City wasn't being attacked all that much anymore, but that didn't mean that it was over.
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