I've come to know the wishlist of my father [open]
[OOC: SO SORRY FOR ALL THE CURSING AND ASSHOLENESS IN THIS.]In all his fucking years alive, Adam never fucking expected that he'd be in Chicago for as long as he has been so far. It's not like this is the Best Place to be with all the shit that goes down here, all the fuckin' disasters that get this city talked about from one city to the next, all
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She could see why the Society thinks that certain issues are problematic, but as far as the spirit of the city is concerned, she has to admit that it has a certain kind of charm and anonymity. It is a city with a personality all it's own, and some days, it knocks you down and makes you want to kill, more so than usual.
And other days, it drops a werewolf at your feet.
Paz's head tips to the side when she comes upon Adam on the sidewalk, then her eyes turn towards the woman who's walking away. She knows who he is -- you can't work for who she works for as long as she has and not recognize the key players, but she never expected to see him here of all places.
"You seem to be having an interesting night."
Sorry, Adam. Your day might have just gotten worse.
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She doesn't react to the surprise on his face beyond registering it's there, and makes no move to help him up either. He's a werewolf. She might catch something.
"I suppose some people can't account for taste." It's unclear whether or not she's referring to Adam or the woman. It's probably best it stays that way.
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He raises an eyebrow at what she says, but he's not going to question it nor is he surprised when she doesn't move to help him out. Werewolves are seen as the bottom of the fucking Society totem pole. For that reason. Adam especially tends to lead people to believe he's riddled with some sickness or shit.
"What the fuck brings you into the windy fuckin' city?" Not that he's expecting an answer, an honest one anyway. But if the whole Society is moving in, he's gonna want to find a way out before Papa Crazy shows up.
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She shrugs as she moves to peer into the windows of the bar. If he didn't know, she isn't about to tell him. Just because she has to work with all the different factions, doesn't mean she has to share.
Paz isn't a big fan of sharing, as a general rule.
"I like the pizza."
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He prefers apathy to the disgust angels and vampires usually show to the 'mutts'. This is why the werewolves get along so well with demons, and by well, he means well enough that they're not all wanting to punch someone.
"Really? Never figured you for the deep dish pizza kind of gal."
He glances at the bar to. "They serve good fuckin' drinks in there. No pizza."
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She's a complicated woman. Except not really.
"It has a very dear place in my heart," she glances back at him with a smirk. "Though I do love a good drink."
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They just want what they want. If someone wants something, they should just say it. He hates the fucking games that get played by the high Society people. At least with Paz, he knows that she'd sell him out in a second.
"I'm sure it fuckin does. Deep dish right down deep to the hart," Adam says, hand against his chest. "So you... want one?"
It's not so much about making friends, more about making nice enough. Adam doesn't mean her any fucking harm, long as his dad never runs into her, she'd have no reason to sell him out either. No one else gives that much of a shit about his whereabouts.
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Because really, she could go for either, but given the context, she wants to make sure she knows which one. Sometimes her English can go a bit sideways -- even if she has been learning it for over a hundred years.
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"Pizza," he says with a shrug, and he smells of whiskey and cigarettes, but that's nothing new, any time of the day. It's the evenings that it's stronger. "One right down on the corner, fuckin' deep as you'd like it to go, deep right down to your dear, fuckin' heart."
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"Why not?" she shrugs. "I have nothing better to do."
And there's pizza.
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He smirks at her response, starting toward the pizza place.
"If I had a fucking nickle for everytime a broad's said that to me."
Adam, the narration cannot even with you.
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"Will you even have enough to make a phone call?"
... Paz, that's not being nice. Not that she isn't sure that Adam is far more charming than he's making himself out to be, but she couldn't let him think that she could enjoy his company. She has a reputation to uphold, after all.
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"I'd have more than enough fucking money to buy a phone call. I could buy a multiple fuckin phone calls?" There's a slight pause. "Wait, how the fuck much would it cost for a phone call in America these days?"
It's okay. Adam wouldn't know what to do with nice since he's kind of an asshole even when he is being the most charming version of himself.
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"Last I heard, a pay phone call was thirty-five cents," she replies. "But then again, pay phones aren't really around these days." She misses them. Carrying a cell phone is rather tedious.
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"...so I'd have enough for a fuckin' phone call," Adam says firmly as if this is anything to be firm about. "Fuck, tell me about it. I mean what the fuck? Always thought pay phones were the only thing I need and now people want a fuckin' number to contact me on at anytime."
He rolls his eyes. He does not actually own a cellphone though he'll likely get one.
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