(no subject)
It's late evening in Costa del Sol. The air's cooler, especially with the breeze off the water; the sky is clear cobalt darkening to midnight blue, stars flickering in one by one; and the little town is a jewelbox of colored lights. Cavilo's dressed to the nines: black jumpsuit shot through with gold, high-heeled synthasuede boots, a silk scarf looping across her shoulderblades of a red that precisely matches her lips and fingernails. No jewelry, but a subtle diamondlike glitter in her hair.
(No visible weapons, but don't bet on her being unarmed.)
The second half of the day has already been more entertaining than the first. The weapons stalls and item shops here carry all kinds of interesting things, a good few examples of which she's got tucked into her jump-bag or on her person; Reno's been decidedly generous, buying her trinkets and drinks everyplace they go, and she's been rewarding him with a series of increasingly dazzling smiles.
(He's also, she was interested to note, been discreetly conducting business: talking quietly on the phone while rubbing massage oil into her shoulders, back at the hotel room. Too quietly for her to hear, unfortunately, but there'll be time to pick up these things.)
As they step out of the restaurant (quite good -- seafood, and none of it freeze-dried or reconstituted or vat-grown), Cavilo gives a contented-sounding sigh and stretches one arm over her head. "Where to now?"
(No visible weapons, but don't bet on her being unarmed.)
The second half of the day has already been more entertaining than the first. The weapons stalls and item shops here carry all kinds of interesting things, a good few examples of which she's got tucked into her jump-bag or on her person; Reno's been decidedly generous, buying her trinkets and drinks everyplace they go, and she's been rewarding him with a series of increasingly dazzling smiles.
(He's also, she was interested to note, been discreetly conducting business: talking quietly on the phone while rubbing massage oil into her shoulders, back at the hotel room. Too quietly for her to hear, unfortunately, but there'll be time to pick up these things.)
As they step out of the restaurant (quite good -- seafood, and none of it freeze-dried or reconstituted or vat-grown), Cavilo gives a contented-sounding sigh and stretches one arm over her head. "Where to now?"