[Shaw is bundled up herself: no hat because she doesn't want to deal with hat hair, but gloves and a scarf over her peacoat, and her heels don't expose much skin. As she approaches, she asks:]
You the guy I'm looking for, or did you get kicked out for smoking?
[It's mostly a joke; she can't imagine any other good reasons for him to be waving.]
[The vast majority of the time, she'll introduce herself by her last name, but going out for drinks necessitates a different vibe. It's not a sign of greater intimacy, nor a relaxation from being her "work self" - Shaw is more herself when she's on the job than she is anywhere else - but it is a different mode of being. She takes the offered hand, giving it a solid shake.]
And you're pre-gaming; I like that. I should've brought along a flask in my pocket.
[Pre-gaming was a new word, but he gets it from context. He smiles-] You surely should- It’s cold like nothing else out here. But maybe I can warm you up instead?
[It rolls off smoothly, casual enough as he steps back to open the door for her.]
Though the roaring fireplace might do me one better. What’ll you have to drink?
[He nods towards the bar, ready to fetch her whatever she asks for. ]
Ah, a woman with contingencies. Clever girl, Sameen. [As he gives her name a try in his thick Northern English accent.]
Excellent choice. [As if he’s the bartender- And he does indeed take over. He ducks under the separator to stand behind the bar to look at bottles and guess which one is best from the label.]
Would you like a bit of ice? A wedge of fruit?
[He picks over the options for glassware and accoutrements before finding her a martini glass. He pours a couple drams of scotch in there, awaiting further instructions.]
Neat it is. [As he places the martini glass in front of her with a wink. This little absurdity would get him fired from any modern bar.]
It’s between ownership at the moment. There’s another fellow that comes here to tend. I’m no bartender …But I won’t have anyone call me a poor host, even if it’s not my place.
[He pulls his coat open as he begins to warm.]
But I’d rather we sidled up by that fire on the other side next to you. [He looks back at the robot, as if it would have any genuine complaints as he snags the bottle from the shelf.]
I’m sure they won’t mind a little self-service.
[He goes back to where she was before and sits in the seat next to hers, instantly manspreading into place.]
So, here for bad choices, you said. There’s options, you know. We could get pretty far down that bottle, juggle knives, perhaps see if the river’s got any sharks…
I've got a knife on me right now. Not that I was planning to use it on anyone tonight, but it pays to come prepared.
[She unwinds her scarf and pulls off her gloves, but leaves the coat on, turning on her seat so that she's facing him rather than the bar counter.]
How about we retire to the fireplace, and if you can find that knife of mine, you can decide what we do with it. Don't worry, it's nowhere too indecent.
Indeed it does. [He goes to rest his arm where he usually kept a sword. He did not bring his sword. He smoothly rests his elbow on the bar for a moment before letting it slide off as he stands. ]
Oh, a little scavenger hunt? I should warn you, I’ve got a keen sense for finding things.
[He bounces a brow at her, then lets his gaze skirt over her body. Maybe he’s looking for a knife, maybe he’s just taking the opportunity. He has a dancey way about him: he’s light on his feet and he moves with a rhythm. He plunks down onto the loveseat and moves over appropriately so that Sameen can take the spot nearer to the fire.]
[She doesn't take off the coat just yet, but when she clocks him looking, she does undo the top button. Whatever his motive is, she's a helper!]
Mmmm.
[She pushes herself to her feet and glides after him, gracefully sliding onto the offered seat. This, too, is an affected move of sorts; in other contexts, she's just as likely to drop herself down and sprawl.]
Let's say three for starters. But if you don't find it by then, that doesn't mean the game is over; it just means I get to mock you a little bit.
Well… Good thing I’ve also got thick skin. I suppose we’ll see which of my assets ends up proving itself, eh?
[He sips his drink as he looks at her shoes for a visual clue to his hunch. He doesn’t miss the unbuttoning of her coat, but he’s not nearly as desperate as his texts seemed. He’ll call attention to it when the time was right. If its not immediately obvious on the belt, that’s his next bet.]
[He chuckles incredulously into his drink as he takes another sip. He tugs off his coat to reveal a much less normal era passing outfit. This thing is leather, and with an unusual cut and fit. It shows a lot of chest. Thank god the man underneath is attractive. ]
Alright, let’s see if the lady’s got a herself a different sort of stiletto.
[ He slides off the couch to kneel on the floor on one knee, gloved fingertips coming up from her ankle- careful, searching. ]
[She'll be good and won't comment either - yet - but oh boy, she is looking very respectfully at the view. Even if her dumb post was 90% a bust, the other 10% is doing her a lot of favors.]
Nice guess.
[She murmurs, even as he finds nothing.]
I'm an ankle holster kind of girl, but - usually only when I'm in combat boots. Care to go for guess number two?
Hmm… Would it do to have to pull up the dress to grab a knife on the thigh? Might stun someone momentarily with the view, but… I don’t see a belt, but what about… back here?
[He leans forward, knees still on the ground, as a hand lifts from her leg to reach the small of her back.]
I've got a couple thigh holsters, mostly for guns. But, uh...
[She watches the progress of his hand, her lips quirking.]
... that'd count as risqué.
[Over the coat, he feels nothing, even if he prods: either the wool is too thick, the holster is too thin and unobtrusive, or he's found another dead end. After a moment's pause, Shaw decides to help him rule out at least one of those options, saying in a quiet singsong:]
I think I’d like to see that- [He shifts gears before his imagination runs too far off without him.]
…Is that so? [He sits back on his haunches and scratches his chin. He tends to have excellent intuition and a keen mind. This shouldn’t be so hard to puzzle out. At the very least, the solutions were tangible and limited.]
May I take off your coat, or would that end the game too quickly?
[She'll even pop open the next few buttons, though she'll leave it to him to slide it off her shoulders and reveal the sleeveless black cocktail dress she has on underneath. Not very fitting for the weather, but she does have leggings on, and the coat is a warm one.
Holster-wise, there's nothing immediately visible from the front or the back - but with her sitting, the fabric bunches up at her sides, juuuuuust barely enough to potentially hide something thin. He'll have to feel for it to verify, though.]
[He pops the buttons with confidence and curiosity. The knife he had in mind would have been a formidable one- And now he’s thinking about a hat pin, perhaps.]
You’ve done a proper job of concealing it. I know plenty of ladies that would be envious. I really can’t see anything that jumps out at me.
[But yes, he does take note of the bunching of the fabric at her sides. He hopes that she isn’t particularly ticklish as he runs his hands up her sides.]
If you could, I wouldn't be doing my job right, would I?
[There's no sign of ticklishness; she doesn't so much as twitch. But along the right side of her ribcage, he'll feel the telltale sign of something small and rigid: exactly the way a sheath for a small knife would feel.
Her eyes briefly flick down to his hand, then back up to meet his.]
[True to her word, there's no slit to be found, nor any other alterations: it's a regular dress, and a regular knife, both on a very weird woman.]
Knife's a last resort anyway. I carry a gun a lot and I'm good at hand-to-hand, so if I'm going for a knife hidden under a cocktail dress, I've got bigger problems than a wardrobe malfunction. But...
[She watches his finger tracing the fabric, and arches an eyebrow.]
Fun, eh? You said I could decide where to put it if I found it, too. Which, my only request is not in me. I’ve been stabbed for less.
[But that’s all said noncommittally. The real game was in being allowed to get so close. He lingers for a moment on his knees, thumb ghosting over it one more time.]
You’re well-prepared then, a couple weapons and martial arts under your belt. Though, I can’t imagine any of that will be very relevant tonight…
[He hauls himself off the floor and takes a seat next to her.]
[Shaw will be good and resist the urge to make any sort of joke or reference to weaponplay - out loud, anyway. No sense in risking scaring the guy off.]
Don't worry - no knives in you. And if we end up anywhere else...
[She rakes her gaze up and down his torso, eyes eventually coming to rest on his mouth.]
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You the guy I'm looking for, or did you get kicked out for smoking?
[It's mostly a joke; she can't imagine any other good reasons for him to be waving.]
I didn't catch your name.
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I’m Cid. [He shuffles his beer to put out a hand.]
And you?
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[The vast majority of the time, she'll introduce herself by her last name, but going out for drinks necessitates a different vibe. It's not a sign of greater intimacy, nor a relaxation from being her "work self" - Shaw is more herself when she's on the job than she is anywhere else - but it is a different mode of being. She takes the offered hand, giving it a solid shake.]
And you're pre-gaming; I like that. I should've brought along a flask in my pocket.
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[It rolls off smoothly, casual enough as he steps back to open the door for her.]
Though the roaring fireplace might do me one better. What’ll you have to drink?
[He nods towards the bar, ready to fetch her whatever she asks for. ]
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Two sources of warmth are better than one. Or three - I'll take a scotch.
[Alcohol warms a body up too, after all.]
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Excellent choice. [As if he’s the bartender- And he does indeed take over. He ducks under the separator to stand behind the bar to look at bottles and guess which one is best from the label.]
Would you like a bit of ice? A wedge of fruit?
[He picks over the options for glassware and accoutrements before finding her a martini glass. He pours a couple drams of scotch in there, awaiting further instructions.]
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[She walks along the bar counter until she's across from him, taking a seat and leaning forward.]
You own the place, or are they just cool with you acting like you do? Either way - you wear it well.
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It’s between ownership at the moment. There’s another fellow that comes here to tend. I’m no bartender …But I won’t have anyone call me a poor host, even if it’s not my place.
[He pulls his coat open as he begins to warm.]
But I’d rather we sidled up by that fire on the other side next to you. [He looks back at the robot, as if it would have any genuine complaints as he snags the bottle from the shelf.]
I’m sure they won’t mind a little self-service.
[He goes back to where she was before and sits in the seat next to hers, instantly manspreading into place.]
So, here for bad choices, you said. There’s options, you know. We could get pretty far down that bottle, juggle knives, perhaps see if the river’s got any sharks…
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[She unwinds her scarf and pulls off her gloves, but leaves the coat on, turning on her seat so that she's facing him rather than the bar counter.]
How about we retire to the fireplace, and if you can find that knife of mine, you can decide what we do with it. Don't worry, it's nowhere too indecent.
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Oh, a little scavenger hunt? I should warn you, I’ve got a keen sense for finding things.
[He bounces a brow at her, then lets his gaze skirt over her body. Maybe he’s looking for a knife, maybe he’s just taking the opportunity. He has a dancey way about him: he’s light on his feet and he moves with a rhythm. He plunks down onto the loveseat and moves over appropriately so that Sameen can take the spot nearer to the fire.]
How many guesses do I get?
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Mmmm.
[She pushes herself to her feet and glides after him, gracefully sliding onto the offered seat. This, too, is an affected move of sorts; in other contexts, she's just as likely to drop herself down and sprawl.]
Let's say three for starters. But if you don't find it by then, that doesn't mean the game is over; it just means I get to mock you a little bit.
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[He sips his drink as he looks at her shoes for a visual clue to his hunch. He doesn’t miss the unbuttoning of her coat, but he’s not nearly as desperate as his texts seemed. He’ll call attention to it when the time was right. If its not immediately obvious on the belt, that’s his next bet.]
Is it strapped round your leg?
hit enter too quick, rip
The deal was that you find it. You get your three guesses. But then you have to investigate.
Like I said - don't worry. It's nowhere too risqué.
[She's in heeled boots that come up to her mid-calf - an easy enough place to conceal a knife, assuming it's not too big.]
Oh well, buries you
[He chuckles incredulously into his drink as he takes another sip. He tugs off his coat to reveal a much less normal era passing outfit. This thing is leather, and with an unusual cut and fit. It shows a lot of chest. Thank god the man underneath is attractive. ]
Alright, let’s see if the lady’s got a herself a different sort of stiletto.
[ He slides off the couch to kneel on the floor on one knee, gloved fingertips coming up from her ankle- careful, searching. ]
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Nice guess.
[She murmurs, even as he finds nothing.]
I'm an ankle holster kind of girl, but - usually only when I'm in combat boots. Care to go for guess number two?
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[He leans forward, knees still on the ground, as a hand lifts from her leg to reach the small of her back.]
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[She watches the progress of his hand, her lips quirking.]
... that'd count as risqué.
[Over the coat, he feels nothing, even if he prods: either the wool is too thick, the holster is too thin and unobtrusive, or he's found another dead end. After a moment's pause, Shaw decides to help him rule out at least one of those options, saying in a quiet singsong:]
You're getting warmer.
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…Is that so? [He sits back on his haunches and scratches his chin. He tends to have excellent intuition and a keen mind. This shouldn’t be so hard to puzzle out. At the very least, the solutions were tangible and limited.]
May I take off your coat, or would that end the game too quickly?
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[She'll even pop open the next few buttons, though she'll leave it to him to slide it off her shoulders and reveal the sleeveless black cocktail dress she has on underneath. Not very fitting for the weather, but she does have leggings on, and the coat is a warm one.
Holster-wise, there's nothing immediately visible from the front or the back - but with her sitting, the fabric bunches up at her sides, juuuuuust barely enough to potentially hide something thin. He'll have to feel for it to verify, though.]
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You’ve done a proper job of concealing it. I know plenty of ladies that would be envious. I really can’t see anything that jumps out at me.
[But yes, he does take note of the bunching of the fabric at her sides. He hopes that she isn’t particularly ticklish as he runs his hands up her sides.]
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[There's no sign of ticklishness; she doesn't so much as twitch. But along the right side of her ribcage, he'll feel the telltale sign of something small and rigid: exactly the way a sheath for a small knife would feel.
Her eyes briefly flick down to his hand, then back up to meet his.]
Congratulations.
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[Now he’s just plain interested in the logistics as he traces a finger up the ridge of it, wondering if there’s a hidden slit in her dress. ]
Now that’s clever. But it’s under your clothes- How are you meant to draw it when you need it?
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[True to her word, there's no slit to be found, nor any other alterations: it's a regular dress, and a regular knife, both on a very weird woman.]
Knife's a last resort anyway. I carry a gun a lot and I'm good at hand-to-hand, so if I'm going for a knife hidden under a cocktail dress, I've got bigger problems than a wardrobe malfunction. But...
[She watches his finger tracing the fabric, and arches an eyebrow.]
I thought wearing it tonight would be fun.
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[But that’s all said noncommittally. The real game was in being allowed to get so close. He lingers for a moment on his knees, thumb ghosting over it one more time.]
You’re well-prepared then, a couple weapons and martial arts under your belt. Though, I can’t imagine any of that will be very relevant tonight…
[He hauls himself off the floor and takes a seat next to her.]
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Don't worry - no knives in you. And if we end up anywhere else...
[She rakes her gaze up and down his torso, eyes eventually coming to rest on his mouth.]
... all weapons clear across the room.
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cw: probably nsfw all the way down from here
godspeed you crazy kids
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*sexiest in that last tag, not sexist. betrayed by my phone
If it makes u feel better I read “sexiest”
thank god tbh
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