× ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ

[bountyhead]

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𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗗 𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘 ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ʙᴀᴅᴏᴜ ɴ' ꜰᴀʏᴇ

[bountyhead]

[ When Gren mentioned something about a blind date, it's safe to say that Faye's immediate reaction was a solid NO. This was a proposition he had brought up once before that she'd swiftly rejected before he could say anything more. It's but a wonder just how she let him convince her this time. And then she remembers: the man has a way with words, making him so utterly persuasive that it managed to change her no into a begrudging I guess and now here she was, sitting at a table in the center of a typical Italian restaurant, waiting for a man that Gren told her she'd "know when she sees him".

She spends the entire time sitting there, mulling over who that could be, dressed in a sleek but charming little black dress that shows off her long, shapely legs and a small hint of her cleavage but nothing else. Her hair is twisted up into a bun, and her make-up is smoldering without being unnecessarily heavy. At least she looks good.

Taking a sip of her water, she keeps an eye out for anyone that enters the place. So far, no one of any familiarity has walked in. And with a sigh, gaze lingering from the entrance a moment to stare into the white fabric of the tablecloth, she has to wonder if maybe it were Gren himself and this was just his funny way of keeping her in the dark about it.

That's when she hears the soft woosh of the door opening and it triggers her to look. As she was told, she definitely knew who that was. But this had to be a coincidence or maybe even a mistake. There's no way that Badou was her date. ]

'dont feel the need to match' you say as my fingers just fly across this keyboard

[brokeassgoing]

[after the initial joking (probably joking???) about going on a date with Faye, the conversation had dropped off the face of the Earth, awash within everything else Badou has to worry about daily. Obviously Gren had been joking. That was that.

Or so Badou had thought. What he thought was some kind of business meeting (dress your best, Gren had said, you'll know when you know, he said. the fuck) was obviously the butt of the joke. Because upon entry into the ritzy place the familiar face immediately brings the joke to mind.

Some joke. Holy shit, she looks-- what the-- he's gonna kill Gren. Or name his first kid after him. Even in his suit, fucking TIE, hair slicked back over his face, he feels underdressed under that smoldering gaze. His feet are rooted to the spot until they aren't, until they bring him in long strides over to her table.]

;3

[bountyhead]

[ She almost didn't recognize him right away but that was her blind date. Him. Badou. And now he's walking towards her which only further cements that fact. Her fingers tightly curl into her palms to retract the tension that was starting to build in her shoulders and she straightens in her seat.

There's a chance her face is giving away the edginess that was making her tense, skewing her attempt at a smile when he reaches the table. There seems to be mutual confusion about this whole thing at least. ]

So you're my blind date, huh?

[ You'll know when you see him. Damn it, Gren.

And though her tone doesn't carry much mirt, she does seem to be doing a lot of staring. Admittedly, he looked... good. ]

[brokeassgoing]

[ damn she looks....really good. scrumptious, even. holy hell!!! GREN!!! he's going to kill him or hug the hell out of him or something, Badou hasn't decided yet. all he can do is stare, blink owlishly, and repeat. when his mouth connects to his brain all he can say is:]

Wow.

[better to focus on her than on her and just how much she's going to kick his butt in a minute. he can't imagine she's happy about this]

@redroseblues

[bountyhead]

( continued from here )

MY
SMOKES
SPIKE
WHERE ARE THEY

[ she's about to march out there and bop you on the head real good, buddy. ]

Re: @redroseblues

[redroseblues]

I don't know.

I do know these cigarettes I've been smoking suck though.

Do you smoke crappy cigarettes?

[bountyhead]

You think you're real cute, don't you.

[redroseblues]

It's a simple question. I don't see the problem.

@controlled, tfln

[bountyhead]

( continued from here )

[ Tell me. I'll come for you. The way his voice nearly coaxes her to sleep; husky and guttural and just low enough. The words cementing a sense of security that she often has to create on her own. Her eyes close and she gently nuzzles her nose against the cool metal of his neck. ]

I'm always lonely... but that's my fault.

[ No one makes her feel as lonely as she does. The incessant push and pull, how exhausting it is to live when you're always guarded and locked in survival mode. She runs away to keep that distance between her and everyone else as encompassing as possible — it lowers the risk of getting hurt, or abandoned, or forgotten. Seldom do her low points involve someone she knows because she keeps everyone at arm's length. This was an exceptional situation. Or maybe just his dumb luck. ]

Do you find yourself still running?

[ Soft and well-meaning, it's a question she should be asking herself. ]

[controlled]

Not your fault. [ he reassures her with a sense of nonchalance. the words come easily, but are no less firm in what they are. ] Get hurt enough times and it's only natural that you try to ensure it doesn't happen again. I don't know what you went through, but if there's anyone to blame, it's the people who made you feel like you have to keep yourself lonely to start with.

[ that next question culminates in a thoughtful silence. he wishes he were a more honorable person; that he had a better answer. that he was someone worth looking up to. with a roll of his shoulders, raiden releases a soft exhale. ]

Think about it this way... when you take a step forward, you've got to leave something behind, right?

[ how ironic it is of him to speak of loneliness — when it was through isolation that he'd finally earned his freedom. ]

I've reconciled with who I am: the things I've done to other people, and the things they did to me. I got tired of following orders and being part of something that would go onto create more people just like me. Hell, I got tired of the world in general. Blind faith, politicians, the law, war... all of it.

So now everyone wants me dead, right? I gave up my shot at normalcy — or my ability to pretend and keep putting on this little act. I stopped running away from reality. But I ended up running away from other things... hopes and dreams I'll never really see fulfilled. My family. My place in my friends' lives.

[ another silence lingers. ]

Guess I've been running for so long that there isn't an end in sight anymore. But you're different. You're young. And despite everything, you're good.

Believe me when I say that.

[bountyhead]

[ Faye is quiet as a mouse and unfailingly small. She stares into the man's chest, eyelids heavy, entranced by his words but still attentive through her boozy state. There's a mutual desolation they seem to share that she doesn't quite realize it in the moment. But she feels it. Boy, does she feel it. It's obvious that he still shoulders so much of the weight. A fleeting thought will have her hoping she's not too heavy in his arms.

Silence revisits, and then she laughs. ]

I'm not as young as you think I am.

[ A strange statement. She proceeds to elaborate. ]

I was cryogenically frozen for 54 years. My parents and I were involved in an accident that killed them and severely injured me. Medicine wasn't advanced enough to heal me at the time.

[ She's mindlessly playing with a strand of Raiden's hair. ]

Then, 54 years later, I wake up and... I don't know who I am or where I was. I do now, I guess. For the most part. But if you asked me to remember my parents faces or what their voices sound like or where I went to school, who my friends were...

[ Trailing off, a breath hitched at the back of her throat, she shakes her head to resist crying. ]

Those... assholes at the hospital expected me to pay off the bills right then and there. How can you expect that of someone who just woke up to a world they knew nothing about? With no memories, let alone the means to pay it off.

[ She sniffles. Anger was always a good anchor for her. ]

[controlled]

[ his legs march forward, but the rest of him is still and motionless as she speaks, taking in the sound of her voice — there's this girlishness about it that he's never heard before. the light washes over her hair, playing against the metal of his jaw, and he thinks to himself that this must be her: the real her. a wounded creature desperately wanting to leave its cage.

he guesses that in spite of everything, they weren't so different in that regard. the pavement cuts through the expanse of grass, leading into a bustling city. as he crosses the street with her still in tow, raiden doesn't say anything. ]

Your body may be a machine, but your heart is still human. [ he cites softly. ] Someone important — ...really important said that to me once.

[ he swallows, an eye flickering away. the pain of that man's death was still too fresh — still too real, even after all of these years. ]

54 years have passed. But you're still the girl who woke up in that room. You didn't get to live. You didn't get to make your own choices. People like those assholes... they're always looking for someone to exploit. They did it to me too...and a lot of others.

[ a hand slides down the back of her head. it's gentle and benign in its touch as it holds her in place. he wishes he could say sorry or that they lived in a world where apologies were enough. but they never were. pity, it rang hollow, painfully superficial as it stripped you of your humanity. he hated it. ]

Faye. [ his tone is harder this time, and is not lost to the mechanical whirring and buzzing of the city. ] I'm going to help you out of this if it's the last thing do. And I mean...well, it won't be— but I want your life to be your own. I want you to get to start living.

[ raiden's gaze drifts up again. another light exhale leaves him, like he's a ball of nerves and feelings who's still adjusting to all of...this himself. ]

Your parents are gone, but you're still here. And so long as you're running? I'll always save a spot for you.

@gigolopuff, tfln

[bountyhead]

( continued from here )

Just your fine self.
Need me to grab anything on the way?

[gigolopuff]

Hmm, I think I have everything I need here besides you. So whatever you think you'd want or need, feel free to get that.

[bountyhead]

Gotcha.
See you soon.
💋

[ It takes roughly a half hour or so before she's anywhere close to his location. Faye can't leave without freshening up first. Naturally. To finish off her little routine, a spritz of perfume that's fresh and floral: behind the ears, on the wrists, between her cleavage, at the base of her throat. Jasmin and sandalwood. Eventually, tobacco will join the mix after she lights a cigarette only a few paces from his humble abode. When she reaches the door, she'll softly rap her knuckles against the wood a few times, a paper bag full of something or nothing hugged to her side. ]

[gigolopuff]

[And Worick, for his part, tries to straighten up his tiny apartment. It helps that Nic and Alex aren't there, having gone out for the night to do who knows what, but he's thankful for it all the same. Any clothes left out were stuffed into Nic's portion of the place, and he made sure to pick up any strewn bottles or cartons or empty cigarette butts. Because he's nice like that.

By the time Faye gets to his door, Worick's changed into nicer, cleaner shirt, leaves it unbuttoned and untucked. He's rolling the remnants of a candy cane in his mouth with his tongue -- a gift from Nina, who on November 1st, had blessed them with Christmas treats and cheap decorations Alex promised to put up. A good thing, though. They were gaudy and they didn't need the extra illumination -- the apartment's lighting is shitty enough, so dimming's not necessary anyway. Perfect.

He eases the door open after the first few knocks, an easygoing grin already lighting his face up.]

Traffic up in Heaven?

idek do whatever u like

[whitehaired]

Yes, yes I have white hair. And yes, I do have a sword. I don't know who that is.

[Even though she has been shrill about what is not only a name but an adjective. Geralt has almost lost his temper. To be fair though, he is completely caught by surprise. The hunt was wearing on, the hours dragging, hot and lazy. He isn't even sure where he is anymore.]

I can put it down if you like.

[The silver sword is heavy in his hand. The steel sword is with Roach. Ah, fuck where is Roach? One issue at a time. Geralt slowly crouches to lay the sword flat.]

Now you drop your wand.

[Gun, Geralt. That is a gun.]

it's perfect ty

[bountyhead]

[ Trust is not a game that he'll win easily with her, so in spite of what he says, Faye's gun remains outstretched before her, unflinching and firm, much like her stare. Just how many sword-wielding, white-haired creeps could there be anyway? That's a question she finds herself asking as a man of that same description standing before her claims that he is not, in fact, Vicious aka the only man that should be fitting that description. ]

Am I really supposed to believe that?

[ The only other detail she has to pin against him is that his hair is longish. She remembers Vicious having longish hair. How many men with overlong, white hair who carry around a sword could there possibly be, huh? Huh? There's actually quite a lot but we digress...

The truth is: she can't recall the details that would tell one white-haired, sword-wielding creep from the next and she's not taking any chances. He abandons his weapon and she doesn't relent. ]

What are you doing? I could shoot you right now and this would be over.

[ And yet she hesitates. Did he just say wand? ]

Re: it's perfect ty

[whitehaired]

[His brows furrow. If this carries on any longer he will have to use hand signs to pacify her. Though it doesn't seem she has any kinsmen near enough to help settle the situation. Geralt sighs and slowly straightens.]

My name is Geralt. I'm from Rivia. I'm a Witcher.

[Which should at least remove the burden of introductions. She has not settled any. Her body tense. She must have been doing laundry. That's quite a state of undress. If this were not a threatening situation, he would try and be polite and look away. Unless she's trying to display her assets? Usually if a woman is selling herself and does not want his attentions she will spit and shout at him, this is a far different exchange.]

I'm showing you I mean no harm, because I don't. The sword is for whatever manner of dark creature that stalks this area. I have a contract.

[In his head all of this makes perfect sense.]

[bountyhead]

[ Geralt. Rivia. Witcher. None of those names sound familiar.

Her stare is skeptical, unblinking, and her gun remains aimed, high and somewhere vital, completely forgoing her own introduction. ]

Red Dragon Crime Syndicate? Does that ring any bells?

[ She wants to be sure. He could be working for Vicious and this could be a trap which means she can't afford to let up even a little. And once the man is no longer within reaching distance of the sword, she takes that opportunity to look over her shoulders and sweep her eyes across the surrounding area. There could be more of them in wait. It's not the first time she's been ambushed. The moment he relinquished his weapon should've been the moment his men stormed in. It never happens.

Faye re-evaluates the situation. In contrast, the man is dressed like he's stepped right out of a Renaissance Fair and she's not sure if she should be taking him seriously or not. Maybe the sword isn't even real. Or perhaps he just has a strange sense of style. Not that she's one to talk what with her labia suspenders and all that. ]

What kind of contract? You seem to be the only "dark creature" stalking the area around here.

[ At least it makes sense to one of them. ]

@ 𝐒𝐀𝐗𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 | bite me, baby. ( nsfw )

[bountyhead]

[ The preceding days have been imprinted with a feeling of defeat and although she's no stranger to substantial amounts of loss, this time it felt particularly torrential and massive, as if she'd pissed off one of the fortune deities or something ridiculously ill-omened like that. Predictably, the guys did nothing to help ease the blows; with every pathetic joke about lady luck or backhanded remark about being taught a lesson, it had finally rubbed her so raw that one last comment sends her rage into motion and she shatters a glass before wordlessly storming off. From behind, Jet shouts about something or another, what exactly she can't make out through her thundery anger, and she presses on with the intention of never returning again.

By the time she can release her restive grip from the handlebars long enough to text Gren, she's already out the gate near Callisto. The quick exchange ends with an inspiring: "I'm hot and the light's on. You better hurry." — and at the suggestion, she throttles the gas to quickly descend upon the frigid atmosphere and within the hour she arrives in the dreary cityscape of Blue Crow, diving straight into the heart of it to reach him.

There's very little warning before Faye comes ripping through the door with a stormy force, slamming it shut behind her. A dramatic entrance followed by the rustling of clothing as she tosses her key aside, strips off her jacket, kicks off her ankle boots, and starts undoing her top with no intention of wasting time. ]

I hope you're still hot because I'm raring to go.

[ And in the chance that he wasn't, she was prepared to fix that. ]

@ 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐒

[bountyhead]

( continued from here )

[ Faye spent the duration of the ride to and from the liquor store stewing over their text exchange. It left her with a gnawing feeling that continues to stay with her as she lands Redtail on The Bebop's hangar and hops out; gathers her purchases and calmly saunters to the entrance. All the way until she's ducking to step into the lounge area does it magically go poof! expecting to see a lunkhead there silently stretched out on the couch.

Empty seats greet her instead. Maybe he was in his room.

She kicks off her boots and relishes the feel of cool metal beneath her feet as she goes to look for him. Her foot falls are quiet enough that she doesn't wake the snoring Ein who lies directly in the middle of her path. She stops to ponder how he could sleep so comfortably on flooring like this and happens to catch his paws twitching. Must be dreaming. She carefully steps over him.

Just before she reaches Spike's room, she makes it her mission to be as silent as possible. He won't hear her coming as she nears the frame of his door—and she hovers for only a mere second before popping out and ( loudly ) saying, ]

Hey there, cowboy!

[redroseblues]

[ For as cool and nonplussed as Spike usually is about his injuries, there's something insultingly personal about the way this one seems to want to present itself. Doing anything has proven to be something of a test of willpower. He knows that it isn't forever, but it is right now, and it's annoying like a toothache.

He has discovered, however that keeping his lower body as stationary as possible helps the pain keep from flaring. Fine. Punches and pushups it is. He's on the cool metal floor when she appears, and true to her goal, she does startle him, but thankfully not enough to make him drop his position.

He sighs and sits up with a groan, looking up at her with same irritated expression he's been wearing pretty much since they got back the night before. ]

Oh. Good. It's you. You bring my whiskey?

[bountyhead]

[ Aw, man. That's not the reaction she was hoping for but one she expected all the same. Faye emits a sigh; a plastic bag that houses a paper bag dangles from her fingers. She holds it up. ]

As per your request.

[ A soft clink, clink is heard as she lowers the bag. It's not just his whiskey but also her vodka and a pack of smokes. She then enters his room and sits down on his bed like she had been invited in. The bag is gently placed beside her and she reaches inside to pull something out — he'll be pleasantly surprised to see that it's a bottle of single malt whiskey. Not the priciest of brands but close enough. ]

Some kind of brand they used to make on Earth. The label's scuffed up so I was able to get it for a lower price. It's the best I could do.

[ What's important here is that she kept the 45% in mind and that's what he got. Nothing more, nothing less. She places her offering of truce on the other end and then proceeds to fish out her bottle and smokes. Looks like someone is getting comfortable. ]

I brought something else too. Can you guess what?

[redroseblues]

[ Hearing the clinking of glass in the bag, he raises an eyebrow. Did she actually... do something nice for him? She actually went out of her way to do him a favor? That in itself is surprising enough, but the fact that she actually took the time to find him something good is... even more surprising. He looks up at her, a thoughtful look on his face. ]

...Huh. Thanks. Wasn't expecting much of anything, really so... thanks.

[ He winces a little as he reaches out for it, and he's quick to unscrew it and takes a generous swig of it. He sighs and relaxes a little before he shifts into a more comfortable position, at least for now. ]

Is it my dignity? Cuz I'm pretty sure I left that at the bar last night.