ghostthatlingers | Sanctum IC Contact

"Yes, we are." Her feet are still headed in the direction of D1, though she briefly reconsiders it. At least things haven't changed that much between them even here.

She's not sure what she's looking for when they get to D1, so she pauses whenever they approach a restaurant to peer in.

Well that puts a slight damper on this outing, but maybe once they decide on a place to eat, things will get better? At least she's splurging on somewhere fancy. That'll pick things up. He'll just, y'know, put his hands in his pockets and follow along beside her, staying relatively quiet. For once.

It's not like it's new for them and by the time she's selected a place (one that serves alcohol), she's over the spat. The restaurant's not too fancy since they'd be far under-dressed and she's not up for the pomp, but it's clean and decent looking which is more than can be said for eateries in other districts.

"This place good enough for the one shot you got in on me?"

Things were never, ever perfect between them, but that's always been okay. That's always just been how they were. It was when things got worse, in the project, with Omega, that shit seemed to snap.

So that they snipe at each other (metaphorically and literally) doesn't actually bother him. Maybe the fact that that's normal is fucked up, but hey, that might be one of the least fucked up things about them. So hell yeah he'll take it. "I will try not to order three courses of the most expensive thing I can find, but no promises."

"Try hard otherwise I'm getting separate checks." Though she's already fantasizing about what drink she's about to order with her food as she walks towards the host. It's weird being able to go out and eat at a real restaurant and crap, this really makes it a date, doesn't it?

That kinda really makes it a date, Tex. But you won't find Church saying that. Aloud. Yet. Oh god, other people are going to think it, though, aren't they? People will look at them and think 'date', and 'boyfriend', and 'girlfriend', and they've always been bad at defining their thing. Their thing doesn't need defining. Food needs defining, though. Food needs eating more and drink needs drunk. Experimentation!

But hey, they're seated together, and it's--weird. A sit-down restaurant. Seriously? It's an experience. 'Normal' is an experience. Better not bring that up again, though.

She tries not to think too hard about what other people might think of them out together like this. It'll be bad enough when other agents realize their relationship. As far as she knows, only York has had the "joy" of meeting Church and that didn't go over very well.

When they're finally seated, she beelines for the drink menu and orders something on tap. If she's got a body and can finally drink alcohol, then she's going to damn sure take advantage of that.

Meeting Carolina had been. Interesting. And there was a kitten involved. He's pretty sure that tempered a lot of the negative feelings going on, or she might've ~~been like her mother and~~ hit him. Trying to avoid getting hit. York's punch still has left its mark on him, although the swelling's at least gone down.

"Beer is literally the first thing I had when I got here." Thanks to, guess who, fucking York. "Pretty sure 'mana from on high' isn't good enough praise, but hey, shiny new tastebuds. Everything's pretty fucking awesome." They can go for some harder liquors when they go buy their own booze. Beer? Beer is definitely a soldier's drink. And despite what anyone, even sometimes himself, says--he's still a fucking soldier, too.

Good thing the word 'soldier' was defined pretty loosely in the Project.

"You spent your first night in a strange, new city getting drunk off your ass?" She may be questioning his judgment a little bit there. Beer is good and all, but wasn't her first priority. "Good to know they can at least brew right here."

"Did I say drunk? No, I said beer was the first thing to pass these lips that wasn't air. And you can thank robocop for that." He's not that stupid, even though the idea getting blindly drunk after everything that happened did, retrospectively, appeal.

Eh, save that for another night, then.

"Robocop?" She's starting to get a better idea of why York flew off the handle at Church. "You could try not being an ass to the person who gave you beer."

"Or the person that blew up in my face could try not blaming me for everything that happened in his life. I think I like that idea better." Sure, he didn't tell York things he should've, but would the result have honestly been any better? He would've just blamed Church for what happened to Delta anyway and, subsequently, punched him in the face and blamed him for everything. So what was the fucking point?

"He shouldn't have done that, but you should have told him when he asked. Sugarcoating doesn't help." Nevermind that she basically has been doing that to him for how many years? But that's different, he never directly asked about anything. Mostly because he didn't know what to ask, but still.

She looks slightly relieved when her beer arrives and she leans back in her seat as she sips at the pint. It has been too long.

"Yeah, well. It's all apologized for and shit." More or less. "I don't exactly need him to be my friend. And if you two get along, then--that's. Y'know. Great." But if all of Tex's "friends" are gonna be like that, there will probably be a problem.

But hey, there's beer, there's this date, there's going to be food, and he's not going to have to pay for it, so they're good. As long as they're good, then nobody else really has to matter. "This human thing definitely has its perks."

She rolls her eyes, but let's that subject drop. She isn't expecting them to be friends. She'll be happy if they can at least tolerate each other if they're in the same room.

"More perks than I thought it would when I first woke up," she replies. "Though I want to know why they bothered giving us bodies."

"Can't exactly cure a zombie outbreak with robots. But god knows if they're actually doing anything to fucking cure it at all." He is extremely skeptical and pretty paranoid. Who wouldn't be after that kind of introduction to the dome? "Social experiment? Easier to work with a biological specimen? To dick with us?"

"Depends on what they really want us for. They kept us from dying for a reason." She's not trusting anything here and it's strange how they have the ability to save them, but not their own people.

"And direct questions aren't exactly going to help. Unless you wanna storm into the labs, guns blazing, and see if you can't demand some answers." Which also won't help, but god, is the idea hot and terrifying.

She glances around and decides this is not the best place to discuss such plans. "We'll see." That's the only response he's getting, though the look in her eyes says she would storm in there in a heartbeat if it meant getting some answers.

"At least we're alive."

They can figure out what may or may not work later. When they're not in public. And when they're not on a date, but if they wanted to make a date of planning on raiding Bifrons labs, he would be completely down for that.

"Alive beats being dead. I mean, not being able to ghost around kinda sucks, but oh my god, I think the positives vastly outweigh the negatives right now."

"We're testing out the livers as soon as we get home," she replies with a smirk. "We'll need to pick up some shot glasses so we can do it right." Shot glasses and a big ass bottle of tequila. Talk about a good night.

"That is one of the best endings to the day I can think of." The other involves lots of sex. No reason they can't do both, really. Unless they get way too drunk, in which case--sex first, probably. "Unless these bodies can't handle tequila. Which would suck. But that's what testing is for. We'll be like...scientists. With ourselves."

"Ones that have more fun. I've got enough credits to get a well-stocked liquor cabinet going in the house." Guns and alcohol are two things she can easily justify spending a lot of money on. After the last couple of days, she could use the hard stuff on hand.

"A couple weeks of actually making money, and we could probably run a better bar out of our place than any of the actual bars." You know what? That might not be the worst idea he's ever had. Pretty bad, sure, but probably not the worst.

"The random drunks can stay at the bars. If you want to deal with that, go become a bartender." It would be a much less dangerous profession than militia and without the Bifrons involvement.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject