(Untitled)
Drinkin' at home or drinkin' at the end of the universe: it doesn't much matter to him. End result's gonna be the exact same, so either's good. As he opens the door, his hand goes to that knife he carries in his pocket
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Pushing herself off the table she was sitting on, she walks over to stand behind the seat to his right.
"Hey." She offers him a grin. "Get my note?"
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Oh, she must mean this one, the one that just appeared. The last time he was here was the time she followed him out, and he didn't see her back home -- she never called, she never wrote, never sent him those thank-you flowers he's been pinin' for: she technically did a hit and run and he's gotta admire that in a lady -- so he ain't had much of a chance to get notes. But he opens this one up 'cause sure enough it's got his name right there on it in her pretty handwriting and takes a look.
That's fair; he nods in her direction. "You're welcome. You want to take a load off? Sit for a minute? Tell me what kind of trouble you got in on my base of operations?" Shit, he's almost in a good mood. "Or maybe just tell me what the fuck's goin' on with all the costumes around here?"
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"Think I could sit for a while."
She puts her empty beer bottle on the bar and asks for a replacement, and when the unopened bottle shows up in front of her, she lowers herself onto the bar stool next to him.
"Apparently this is how the bar celebrates Mardi Gras." She hesitates, smiling skeptically. "It's an Earth holiday. Probably best known for masks and colorful costumes and beads." And drunken revelry, but maybe that's a given. "Most of these outfits aren't exactly voluntary, so I hear."
She stops long enough to grin again.
"And for what it's worth, I didn't get into any trouble in your home base."
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Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras. Nope, they don't have that on Gaia, but they do have costume... things. Where people get dressed up, except it's usually 'cause they want to get dressed up. Not 'cause they ended up at some bar and it did it for 'em. That's just all kinds of fucked up.
"You glad the whole dress-up thing passed you by?" Smoothing down the front of his always-rumpled shirt and jacket never does shit, but it's old habit to try anyhow. It's probably pretty obvious to her he's glad to be in his usual shit.
And Kate's still kinda pretty. Shit, she'd probably look good in or out of a costume too.
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And she's grinning broadly.
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The whole pie shit must be some friggin' magic or other; she's always got a slice. Always. "You born with pie in your hands or somethin'?"
She's got a shit-eatin' grin on her face -- as usual -- and he taps the stool next to him. "This ain't a drop-the-pie-and-run thing, is it? 'Cause you know the rule says if you're gonna bring me pie, you gotta try it too, right?"
By his count that's four questions already and he might just maybe want to give her a chance to answer. HEY. It's a good offer. He ain't always so nice.
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She sits and considers for a moment before nodding and sliding up onto the stool. "It's peach," she explains, producing a fork from somewhere and stealing a piece of his pie.
"Anyway, I've been pretty good. Things around here are pretty... well, not stable, but... something like it? And how have you been, Reno-not-the-city."
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The pie's real good.
"So this is peach." Like he never had peach pie before. "I keep wantin' to tell you what a good pie baker you are. Just take the compliment, whether you make the pies or not. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be eatin', just sittin' around all pretty drinkin' Wutai Pale Ale. How come you ain't in costume like half the other people here, Chuck?"
She's pretty friggin' cute with that million-watt smile. Some days he thinks she's her own damn walkin' talkin' Mako reactor and that... that'd be a neat trick. One of these days he's gonna make good on that whole thing and take her on a trip back home. Soon as he can think of something besides what he did with Lara, that is. He's got a reputation to ruin.
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"Hey."
He waits to catch Cloud's eye, then toasts him with his bottle.
And to think, that shit he's wearin' ain't even a friggin' costume.
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This Reno, on the other hand ...
"Hey," he returns.
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"The fuck you doin'?"
The conversation's gotta start someplace.
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"Sorry," Kim apologizes. "I'm not used to this."
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Nope. Still friggin' hideous. Good thing he's a skinny fuck. Makes it easier to get out of the way of those green things hangin' off the side. The one saving grace for the outfit is the lady wearin' it? Real pretty. She's got that white-blond hair like Lara but it's long. The kind a guy could play with for a while in one of those let my fingers do the wanderin' sorts of ways, if he was lucky enough. And she's got a great smile.
Plus, she apologized all nice and everything.
"Hey. No problem. If that was me in that, well, two things would happen. First, everyone would be laughin' at me, and second, I'd have to start killin' people. You know, wipe out all the evidence it ever happened." With a small smug smile, he nods to the seat next door and holds out his hand. "I'm Reno, and you and me ain't met before."
He definitely would've remembered. Ain't no drink in the world ( ... )
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"Kim Ford. Nice to meet you."
An impish smile appears as she adds, "And since I'm having trouble picturing you in an outfit like this, I guess I'm going to have to bite the bullet and say better me than you!"
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He would've remembered, he would've remembered, he would've... yeah, he definitely would've. "Where you from?"
Earth, probably. Like most of the people here.
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