[OPEN] empty bottles and broken glass

[cachemoney]

CHARACTERS: Fiona and YOU
DATE: Early to mid-October
SUMMARY: A sexy farmhand bounty, an open prompt post-canon update, and some closed threads.

early october. RHINESTONE COWBOYS.

[Having absolutely no idea how to budget and already spending all her money on frivolous things (though she would argue they are not at all frivolous -- one can never own enough hats, you know), Fiona is out of money. Already. Just completely broke. So, she's started looking over the bounty board for a quick way to get cash, and helping out this farmer with his love life seems to be the simplest and lowest impact option.

She did not, however, anticipate it being this boring.

She's out at the edge of the farmer's land, dressed in some ridiculous midriff-bearing outfit with Daisy Dukes and the worst hat she's ever worn ("it's part of the costume," the farmer told her when she protested, "you have to"), leaning seductively on fence posts and draping herself sexily over robot horses. She would be embarrassed if she weren't getting paid so well, playing sex kitten is not her usual forte, and she mutters to the metal horse she's currently arching her back against.] I promise I'm not usually like this. [The horse nickers, unconvinced.]

mid-october. CANON UPDATE.

[After getting smacked so hard that she flies into another dimension, Fiona has A Lot to deal with. It's very disorienting, going from trauma to trauma and having the memory of both things hitting her all at once. She's back in Perdition's Rest immediately, though it's not immediate for her; months have passed, she's been through some stuff, and she's also, like, frustrated? Kind of frustrated. Getting whisked away right after opening a Vault is frustrating.

She's at the saloon, hunched over a little at the bar as she nurses a whiskey, watching her hand as she curls and uncurls her fingers, trying to reconcile both sets of memories into some kind of coherent timeline.]

Comments

closed: asher

[cachemoney]

[Fiona hasn't been on a proper date in awhile -- not that she is counting this as a proper date, she's just here for free booze -- so she's trying to remember how to act, which is made even more contentious due to not exactly knowing what the cultural differences are between Pandora and whatever planet Asher is from. She didn't even think to ask, so there's conversation topic number one.

She's waiting patiently at one of the tables in the downstairs saloon, nursing a beer and insisting politely (the kind of politeness that comes along with a fake smile, anyway) to the saloon worker that it'll totally go on Asher's tab, don't worry about it, he's good for it. So it's already starting well, a good way to start a date is to put the other person in debt.]

[moneyballer]

[And if the cultural differences between their worlds wasn't enough, Asher has to go and spoil everything with his douchiness.]

Hey.

[After taking his place at the table, he leans excessively too far in her direction, sporting an expression that not even a mother could love.]

What's cookin', good lookin'?

[cachemoney]

[Oh, my god. Well, it could be worse. She casually presses her fingers into his forehead and lightly pushes him back out of her personal space, mouth twisted in a half smile.] Get along, bullymong.

[He's in better shape than she thought he was; it's easier to tell these things in person, obviously, and she sits back a little so she can take him in better, lifting her beer.] Did yooouu want a drink? I have a tab going. [She pauses.] Okay, you have a tab going.

[moneyballer]

[Fiona will hear him let out a breathy sound as he reels backwards, almost like a scoff but not derisive in an way. The smile he flashes in her direction is more sincere than the shit-eating grin that had surfaced moments before.]

Well, dayum-

[Spoken with an air of jest, as though he doesn't really mind.]

Startin' me a tab already? I'm pretty sure you don't even know my full name.

[Her actions confirm his suspicions, that she's seeking little more than some free booze and maybe someone to laugh at for a few hours. If this was home he'd have been certain that this evening would end well, confident even, but his time in this place has taken a toll on his already fragile self-esteem. Every hour, nay, every waking minute of being on this team is nerve-wracking. It's hard to stare at what he perceives as near perfection 24/7, to look at people who are his own age or even younger than him and still lightyears ahead.

Nevertheless, he likes her confidence and could use the company tonight.]

I'll have a beer.

[cachemoney]

[Well, he is correct in thinking that Fiona is 24/7 perfect, because she is, she has zero flaws and that's not at all her subjective opinion. She smiles around the mouth of her bottle, then raises her hand in the air to signal over some waitstaff.]

Lemme guess. Asher... [What's, like, the whitest rich guy name she can think of. She rolls her eyes up, thinking, and the saloon girl comes over to plunk a beer down while she considers.] Asher Rutherford Hollingsworth. Your friends call you A. R. for short.

closed: nami

[cachemoney]

[Getting money through a bounty system has already proven to be quite successful, though Fiona isn't quite sure if she wants to do something quite as embarrassing as playing dress-up again. So, she decides on something that'll get her hands a little dirtier -- and dealing with bandits seems to be right up that particular alley.

She's rented her own horse for the occasion, selecting a camo-print little number, thinking it'll blend into the scenery better. Of course, she didn't realize that the closest bandit camp happened to be in the middle of a forest, making the brown-and-tan patterned horse pretty useless against the greens of the trees. Leaving her horse tethered nearby, she creeps up to the encampment, crouching behind a thick tangle of trees at a distance, trying to count how many are in the camp. And how difficult it'll be to take them out by herself.]

[weatherscience]

[ As the unofficial treasury secretary of the Straw Hats With ALASTAIR unit, it isn't as though Nami is exactly lacking in money, especially with her haggling skills and the money that came in after the performance in the saloon... but with one successful bounty already completed, it only fuels the fire to get more easy money!!

... not herself, no. She's there to scout it out, to be able to go back to the saloon and tell Sanji where he needs to go, deal with the bandits and bring her the bounty. Only when she gets there, she isn't the only one. The horse tethered near the camp tells as much, and when Nami moves closer, her steps careful and silent like only a thief's can be, she's greeted with the sight of the woman from before — the one who had no particular love or trust for the law enforcement.

Clearly she has no particular love for the bandits, either... ]

Are you here for the bounty, too? [ A quiet whisper as she creeps closer to Fiona. bc as much as sisters before mister-bandits is the rule, like hell she's come all this way and not get money out of it?? ]

[cachemoney]

[Fiona's response is immediate; she's already on edge and the sudden voice behind her doesn't help. Whipping around, she shoots her arm out, the derringer tucked in her sleeve springing out into her hand. But it's not a bandit, it's another ALASTAIR recruit -- and one she had a pleasant conversation with, besides.

She squints for a moment, quiet, then withdraws the gun into her sleeve and turns back around, nodding to the bandits ahead.]

There are plenty of horses, [she mutters at a well-rehearsed "don't let them hear you" volume.] The tricky part is gonna be not getting shot full of holes.

[weatherscience]

[ She doesn't flinch, doesn't draw back at the sight of the gun — if anything, Nami seems impressed at the quick reaction, the level of alertness Fiona shows. With a nod, she agrees; plenty of horses, indeed. ]

... I think I can help with that. [ The slightest of smiles as she reaches for her Clima-tact. ] Did you see our performance in the saloon?

[ It's easier to explain if Fiona was there to see the disappearance trick... ]

[cachemoney]

[To Fiona, it's a weird fuckin' change of conversation topic, and she stares for a second. The expression on her face should make it super clear that she did not.]

What? No. What?

Mid-october

[evantuality]

[Evan's thought now and then of trying out the 'drowning your sorrows' option, given the handy proximity of the saloon right below his living quarters. It's been tempting, for sure, but then, there's more in his life amongst the ALASTAIR recruits that seems to call for the solace of alcohol than there is back home. Drinking doesn't help with midterms, but maybe it helps with adequacy issues and romantic troubles.

But for all that, he hasn't yet indulged in more than a glass of cactus wine with a good friend. Still, there's something in him that sees the look on Fiona's face and understands, not the specifics, but certainly the broad strokes. That's the look of someone who's having a bitch of a time trying to work something out.

He's on his way home after a day out and about, so he's dusty, smells like sun and desert, and can feel the ache of plenty of walking in his legs. Still, rather than swing up the stairs towards a good wash and a nap, he angles for the familiar face at the bar. Maybe, maybe, if he can't sort out his own issues, he can help with someone else's.]

You look like you need that drink more than most of us. [He grins, a small, sympathetic offering.] Hey.

yikes this is older than i thought, aahhhh sorry

[cachemoney]

[Luckily for Evan, Fiona isn't the sort of person to brush off a friendly assist. Her flavor of brooding is more self-aware than your Angry Rugged types, and she's halfway chastising herself for being so goddamn dramatic the whole time. When Evan comes near, she greets him with a sort of self-effacing smile, just short of rolling her eyes at herself.]

Well, you know... can't get enough of the atmosphere. [Dust! And sand! They both make for a very nice ambience when you're trying to drink. At least none of the entertainers are putting on any kind of remotely bawdy show; that would just make all her stupid angst even more stupid.

She stands up a little straighter, motioning to the bottles behind the bar.] Let me buy you something. What do you drink?

rhinestone cowboys

[flashbanging]

[ Typically, when McCree thinks of 'bounty', he thinks of somebody he's gotta fight. Someone that needs to either be taken in, or taken down. He supposes this job is still about taking somebody down, but damned if the strategy ain't usual. He can't complain, though. Easy work for easy money--what's better than that?

And there's nothing easier than looking good.

He leans against a nearby fence, shirtless. He's well cut, with hard muscles formed out of a life lived constantly on the run. He's got a beer in one hand and his Stetson positioned low over his head, giving him what he surely believes in a sexy air of mystique. The belt buckle glints in the afternoon sun. Because, of course, he had to keep the belt buckle.

When he spots Fiona rubbing up against the horses, he laughs, raising his drink to her. ]

Howdy, sweetheart. You havin' a good time over there?

[cachemoney]

[Having been the target of bounty hunters in the past, Fiona was at first a little leery about checking the jobs on the jewelcomm. But this one seemed to be inoffensive (and, most importantly, easy); no one needed hunting down, no one had a reward on their head just for living. The weather is a little on the cooler side, but at least it's a sunny day, and she's getting into it.

Or, she was getting into it. She hadn't been expecting company, or at least not company that she knows. And that looks like that. She's suddenly very embarrassed, mostly by the stupid hat she's been made to wear, this is not a proper hat.

She pauses for a second, but doesn't stop leaning on this robo-horse, who at least doesn't seem to be judging her for her fashion choices.] I'm, you know... working. It's a living! [Wocka wocka. Ugh.] I see you're taking the less creative route.

[flashbanging]

[ Fiona's discomfort is plain, but McCree's not here to exploit it. He leans back against the fence, his posture casual and sultry. He takes a long, slow pull from his beer, taking care to arch against the fence, his mouth pressed to the bottle like he's giving it a kiss. ]

Ah.

[ He tips up his hat slightly, grinning at her. ]

Ain't nothin' wrong with keeping to tradition.

[cachemoney]

[Jesus fucking space christ. A huge chunk of Fiona's sexy mojo just goes flying into the distance towards the sun; she feels like an amateur in the face of McCree. Which she isn't, she's had to pose sexily for jobs before, but he's just really attractive, it's almost painful -- especially because he's off-limits. She can't tell what she's supposed to do here: is it polite to just stand around like she isn't half naked with her boobs popping out of her shirt? Or should she sexy right back at him? Ugh. Ugh!!

She decides on a kind of middle ground, keeping her pose but dragging her hand slowly up her torso, lightly scarred and lightly muscled.] Traditional or lazy? [She could sit around and drink, too!! She probably would not look as sexy doing it, though. She feels a little more comfortable now that she's not frozen in place by his hotness, and lets her fingers graze her breast as she stretches her hand up over her head.] This is a weird fuckin' bounty.

[flashbanging]

[ He shrugs, congenial. ]

Either, or. Gets the job done regardless, right?

[ He thinks he's pretty effective at this, and he reckons that, if pressed, Fiona wouldn't disagree. He gives her an appreciative once-over as he takes another sip of his beer, though he's careful not to linger too long on any one part of her body. Gentlemanly respect is still in effect here, after all.

He winks. ]

Can't say I got too much issue with your approach either, though.

[ McCree stretches against the fence, flexing the muscles in his arms and shoulders, sighing as though terribly, artfully bored. ]

Anyhow, I don't mind it so much. Not too often a man gets paid to relax and be his own self.

[ His own devastatingly attractive self being the subtext there. ]

let's try this again

[strictdiscipline]

[Riza visits the main floor of the saloon infrequently, preferring to remain in her room rather than sit through the rowdiness of both Qorral and ALASTAIR folks after one too many drinks. But tonight the pirates next door have amped the volume up to 11, and so she snakes her way down the stairs and through the tables, hunting for a quiet corner of the saloon to sit and unwind.

Instead she finds Fiona, hunched over and oddly quiet. That's not the posture she's used to seeing from Fiona, bowed down instead of tall and proud. Something's happened, that's for sure, but what?]

Mind if I take a seat?

[She takes it anyway, sliding into the chair next to Fiona and calling out to the barkeep for a glass of water to start.]

[cachemoney]

[Fiona lifts her head at that familiar voice, smiling a little, though it's tight at the corners, pinched. She doesn't like exposing her weaknesses to people -- not that she distrusts Riza in particular, but distrust in general comes naturally to her. It's easier now to open up, but she's still reconciling both sets of memories, trying to fit them into some kind of order, and it's disorienting.]

Oh, water. Living on the edge, Riza.

[strictdiscipline]

[In reply, Riza shrugs, head tilting to the right an inch as her shoulder lifts and falls.]

I thought I'd save the stronger stuff for you. You look like you need it.

[Like McCree, Fiona's only ever given off an air of confidence and ease. To see her anything but is alarming, a sure cause for concern. The lingering drops of humor in the air dissipate; Riza cuts right to the chase.]

What happened?

[Whether or not Fiona opts to tell her is another story, but she has to at least ask.]

[cachemoney]

[It's not that it's something she'd like to keep a secret. ALASTAIR operates in weird ways, interdimensional shenanigans and all, and she's sure that other people have experienced the same thing. Rhys, for example, is suddenly walking around with a new haircut and new cybernetics; if it could happen to Rhys, it could happen to anyone.

But she doesn't know how to put it into words, which is a weird experience for her; she's always talking, it's her greatest talent, and to be as tongue-tied as she feels is bizarre and unsettling.

Finally, she shrugs too, flexing her hand absently. The scar there is new but at the same time it isn't. It's confusing.] I don't even know if there's a word for it. You know how we all got sucked up by rifts in space-time or whatever? I think I got... reverse-sucked up [not blown, don't be crass] and then dumped back here again. Or something.

[strictdiscipline]

[Please, she's never crass. A little judgey sometimes, and definitely a bit doubtful of Fiona's less than ethical methods sometimes, but not crass.

Riza gives Fiona plenty of time, gaze drifting over the rest of the crowd in the saloon that night, completely disaffected by this single sober pocket. Her water sits untouched in front of her. (It'd been ordered out of a desire to keep her hands occupied than any real desire for a drink.) When Fiona finally does answer, Riza finds herself not particularly surprised. Sympathetic, certainly, but not surprised.]

So you went home, lost every memory about this place, and then came back with several months' worth of new experiences in your head?

[Something like that, at least, if it had been anything like what she'd experienced all those months ago.

mid-october!

[moneyman]

[ spotting Fiona chilling at the bar isn't really that unusual. at least a handful of team members can be seen at the saloon most afternoons and evenings—it's hard to argue with the convenience of living in the same building.

that said, he does a double-take because something seems... off. looks like she's had a bad day or something. he briefly considers just leaving her alone, but then he'd feel like a dick. if he asks her about it and she tells him to go away, then so be it, but at least he will have tried, right?

so he quietly approaches, taking a seat next to her at the bar. ] Heeey, everything all right?

[cachemoney]

[It's not like seeing Vaughn around is unusual, but it takes her a second to place him when she looks up. It's that vague look in the eyes that people get when they see someone they knew a long time ago but can't quite remember why they're familiar; it doesn't last for long, though, and once it clicks, she relaxes considerably.]

Yeahhh, just, uh. [She's not exactly sure how to explain it succinctly, though at least she pushes down her knee-jerk response, You look better with a full beard. She waves vaguely in the air, squinting.] Some kind of glitch happened? I guess? Like with Rhys. [She just doesn't have a shiny new arm and haircut to prove it.] It's just kind of... you know.

[moneyman]

[ ...okay, that was a little weird. she looked like she didn't even recognize him for a sec, there. he cocks his head to the side, opening his mouth to ask what's up with that, but Fiona beats him to it.

and then her answer, vague as it is, still manages to explain it. hoo boy. this again, huh? ]

...You mean, like you suddenly got older or whatever?

[ that's definitely not what he was expecting to hear. ]