Betty_C

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You sure you're up for this?"

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“Positive. I have certain fail-safes installed in the armor that would possibly counteract any effect anyway, so do your worst.”

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He waited for her approval, then closed his eyes and began to slowly lower the glasses. When the glasses were off of his face, he opened the scaled eyelids, revealing a pair of golden-green, slitted eyes.

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The optics blurred for a nano-second as the auto focus shifted. She was momentarily distracted as information started scrolling by on the con. She was in the process of trying to ignore it when she realized that the armor had totally shut down after it overheated during the fight on the street and she’d forgotten to turn it back on.

“Oh…” It came out as half a whisper rather than a gasp, as she suddenly felt a tautness setting into her joints. She found herself locked in to staring at the green surrounding the slit pupils before she even realized it. The rhythmic hollow clicking of her jury-rigged heart all at once became an almost deafening thunder backed up by the whooshing of fluid that would have just barely passed for blood. Underneath it all was an insistent drone, not so much a sound as a feeling of being beckoned by the promise of an endless emptiness.

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Basilisk only held her gaze for a moment, before placing the glasses back onto his face, but it was long enough for the preliminary effects of the petrification to set in. Not enough to be fully immobilized, just a feeling of stiffness in the joints and limbs. He smiled briefly at her discomfort.

"Like I said, not too comfortable. It's backfired on me a couple of times, so I know what it's like. Relax for a bit, and it should pass."

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She giggled nervously as she seemed to regain flexibility and things returned to what passed as normal. “Woah!… that’s wild. Don’t let anyone tell ya those ain’t pretty, that’s for sure”

Abruptly, another call came through on the mobile phone that was set to vibrate with the ringer turned off. The vibration sent it shimmying across the bar top where it butted up against the severed arm, causing it in turn to set to rattling. The attention of the bartender and the waitress swiftly settled on the thing like a couple of hawks that had been circling idly but had suddenly found prey. Betty frowned sheepishly at the bartender and retrieved the phone. “Sorry,” she told Basilisk, “I suppose I’d better take this one. Heh, note to self of something to never have permanently installed.”

She flipped the phone open and lifted it to her ear. “What!?... look, Prof, I pay you to be my head shrinker not my babysitter… fine, fine therapist, whatever… no, the city does not either pay your bill, I went over to City Hall and put a stop to that charity as soon as I came into some money… is that so?...alright, alright, I’ll meet you over there…yeah, on my way right now.” She grinned broadly and shrugged before indicating to the bartender that yet another refill would be just fine. “O.k. then see ya.”

She snapped the phone closed and stashed it on her belt before picking up her refreshed glass and deciding she’d better explain. “Sheesh, that guy’s crazier’n I am, always wanting to do heroing on the side of his practice because he's collecting material for some psych journal he writes for. Although I can’t disagree that busting up some Troll base would be at least mildly therapeutic, I’m not sure it would be such a good idea for me to drink and slice. I wonder how long it’ll take him to figure out I’m not showing? Serves him right for telling me he was going to find me help in getting rid of that Vahz wasting disease and then leaving me waiting with flies buzzing about all afternoon.” She realized that a slight slur had punctuated her speech and she was essentially babbling. “It’d probably be best that I go after this drink though, gotta find a place to stash the, uh, spare parts before my roommate comes home, anyway.”

“Yeah, well all the dreams I have that I can remember, they’re like nightmares ‘cause I’m stuck the way I used to be,” her voice dropped into a sneer, “weak and defenseless.” Then there were the ones she didn’t remember that she always woke up afterwards in strange places which as of late seemed to be rooftops.

Betty found herself fidgeting with the corner of the towel that covered the clockwork arm. She mentally scolded herself and once again sat on her errant left hand, trusting that the right was sufficiently occupied with the food, which had been served faster than she’d expected. The salmon was done perfectly, too, cooked through just enough to flake easily but nowhere near dry.

Apparently, two drinks were not enough to take off the lingering nervous edge that came with the recent scuffle she’d been in on the street. It was persistent enough that when the really huge guy sitting to the other side of her had polished off several bottles of a variety of spirits, topping it all off with the entirety of a fifth of Goldschlager down to the last fleck of 24 karat, she’d mentally had to check herself from reflexively reaching back to free her blade from its housing, just in case. Thankfully, it looked like the big guy had no problem keeping his wits about him despite the quantity he’d imbibed and the maudlin mood he’d seemed to have slipped into. In fact, he seemed downright polite as he spoke to the bartender and then another woman who'd appeared from the dining room. Besides, she’d felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over her as she noticed the blade the big man carried; it made the nicked and battered sword with duct tape wrapped around the pommel that she carried seem somehow unworthy even if it did serve its purpose in a pinch. She decided it couldn’t hurt to have another drink and asked for a refill when the bartender went by again.

And then there was the conversation she’d gotten herself involved in. How she’d managed to slide right into such familiarity so quickly, it was one of the things that normally didn’t happen. People usually got put off to her for one reason or another after the first short exchange of words, so the experience was turning out to be a real novelty. Unfortunately, she also had no idea how one was actually supposed to conduct such a conversation which was obvious in the fact that it seemed like she’d managed to keep the man she was speaking to in a somewhat disagreeable mood when he’d probably come in the place to get away from all that. She was trying to come up with something to say, all the while berating herself for sticking her nose into somebody else’s business where it really didn’t belong when her cell phone rang. She fumbled with the compartment she’d installed on her belt to carry the device and withdrew it, peering at the display which read VENTRO.

She sighed heavily. So much for keeping a train of thought. She decided to ignore the call and turned off the ringer, but set the phone next to the arm on the bar… just in case. And then, true to form of course, she smiled at Dark Basilisk and let the next words slip without even thinking much about it.

“Can I see? I mean, technically, since I don’t really see like normal people anymore, there’s a good chance I won’t be rooted to the spot, and if I do, just redial that last incoming call. That’s my shrink and let me tell you, it’ll be a real lark just watching him try and get me out of a catatonic state. Besides, if he’s calling it looks like I’m going to need a good excuse for being out late without checking in.”

OOC: feel free to decide on what tunes or how many play. I'm off for a little hiatus this weekend so if i don't get to reply just assume the food's good , company's good etc. If the joint closes, Betty's aware she doesn't have to go home (probably won't ) but she can't stay here.

Betty let her head sway back and forth to the music and the slow ebb of the effects of the drink, taking in the story Dark Basilisk had related to her. After a moment of thought, she said, "welllllll, none of that seems like it was any of your fault. Looks like you were just a victim of misrepresentation. I've never been one to trust any government agency or any big corporations for that matter, so I'm not too terribly shocked." She vaguely remembered an acquaintence mentioning something about fighting people from Crey, but when she'd asked about it he'd just snidely replied that her security clearance was still way too low to concern herself with it, so she'd forgotten all about it until now.

She stopped the bartender to place her order as she'd finally decided on the salmon. Sometimes it seemed that the simplest decisions were the ones she had the most trouble with. She decided not to pester the waitress as she looked to be pretty busy. She knew that the job wasn't an easy one as she'd given it a whirl herself in the past. She hadn't even lasted a full 8 hour day before she'd earned her walking papers on that little adventure.

"So, Canada, huh? Bet it's nice. I've never been out of the city much myself." She noticed the song coming to an end and hopped off the stool. "Hold that thought," she said, slinging the towel-wrapped arm over her shoulder before wandering over to the jukebox. When she got there she was astounded by the sheer number of songs available to choose from. There wasn't much music she really didn't like, so faced with this newest pressing decision, she opted to just punch a series of random numbers on the keypad.

She was about three steps on her way back to the bar when the first selection came on. "Brain Damage and Eclipse" by Pink Floyd. Scowling, she spun back around to face the machine and brandished an accusatory finger. "Heyyyyyy... that's not very nice." The grin slowly crept back and she giggled for a moment. "OK, you're right, it is kinda funny, but you owe me." She went back to her seat, humming along with the music.

She bounced back up on the stool and dangled her feet like a contented child for a second and then addressed Dark Basilisk again. "Hey, can I ask you a sort of personal question? This might seem kinda strange, but I can't contain my curiosity, really... and you don't have to answer if you don't want, but," she lowered her voice down to a somber whisper, "when you... if you do, when you dream... do you look like, or feel like you used to be, or how you are now?"

The song switched over to "Minuet in Jazz" by Ramond Scott, and she perked up and brightened. "Wow... the music box sure knows how to make up a debt, " she mused.

(OOC: Sorry I took so long, real life has been kicking my tail for the last couple of days so I've had to be scarce. I'll have to wander over and check out how those of you who have dropped dead bit the farm as soon as I get the chance, sounds interesting. )

She was surprised to hear poetry from such a man, but despite being in the hero busines for only a short time, she'd figured out that it takes all kinds. She tore her attention away from the severed arm and gave hime a thoughtful look.

"Woah, deep... careful not to drown me there." She chuckled a little. "Coleridge... wasn't he the guy who went on about the albatross and the cursed mariner guy? You'll have to forgive me, I only paid the tiniest attention to literature back in school, I was too busy taking stuff apart, putting stuff together. I think the only classes I got over a C in was shop and auto mechanics, but it's kinda hard to remember."

The bartender had returned, and despite the fact that the place was getting crowded, she took the time to prepare the drink Betty had ordered to the letter, carefully pouring the absinthe over a sugar cube and adding what looked like a rather fine vintage of sparkling wine intil the fluted glass was full with a liquid of just the right opacity.

Betty picked up the glass by the stem, her small, delicate fingers a stark contrast to most of the rest of her - besides being kinda short... she was starting to feel really small with all the big guys who'd filtered into the place and wondered if it bothered the even shorter bartender. She clinked the rim of the glass against Dark Basilisk's shot glass.

"Well, Dave, here's to stifled vices."

She took a sip and seemed to peer at him, the shades behind the optics at half-mast. "So you say somebody changed you? I've seen a lot of weird stuff in this town and figured most people were like me, choosing whatever their quirks are out of whatever misguided notions they've had. Hmmm... do you even know who THEY are? It's always good to have a 'they' to blame for your troubles, no?" She paused for another sip of the drink.

"You know, the fish wil definately go better with this... I'm going to spin some tunes on the jukebox over there and see if I can flag down the waitress." She cocked her head in Gertrude and Jack's direction. "Looks like she might be getting sidetracked, huh?"

"Hey, you want anything to munch on while I'm ordering? I don't mind treating you to it, haven't had the chance to really spread my wealth any as of yet so feel free."

"I hear you there about the lawyers. I wonder if we shouldn't be busting them and just forget about all these arch-villains. Seems like you could play six degrees of Paragon City's legal defense system with most of them anyway. As a matter of fact, if it hadn't been for a shifty lawyer, I wouldn't have ever got my first upgrade."

Her head cocked to the side when she overheard the bartender mention something about absinthe.

"Absinthe?" she called down the bar, "if you've got some of that back there, make my next drink some Death in the Afternoon." She turned back to face Dark Basilisk. "I suppose I may as well go Hemingway if I'm going to go ahead and relate this story to you," she said in a half whisper with an almost satirical imitation of confidentiality.

"Anyway, the first thing that the Clockwork did to get on my bad side was that hey just happened to be one of the last in a long stream of people, things, places... you name it, that seemed to have no other reason for existence than to make me miserable in one way or the other." She paused and took somewhat of a larger pull on the gimlet before continuing.

"I actually used to run a shop just east of Agrosey.... I don't know if you'd remember it or not, it was really just some spare space in a warehouse that I managed to rent primarily as a workshop and to house my collection of mechanical and electrical ephemera. I use to actually make some nifty superhero devices for a friend of mine," her grin was suddenly replaced by a sour expression and she downed the rest of the drink. "I only did it out of kindness, mostly, and because I always enjoyed experimenting with pieces and parts of stuff other people often found useless. Most of the income I got out of the business was modest, rebuilding people's computers and what not, selling spare parts and whatever other junk I would either find around or people would just leave with me.

After the Rikti pretty much turned me out of my home, I started staying at the shop. The landlord didn't like that much... he was always going on about residential versus commercial zoning permits, and I don't guess he really liked me as a renter either because I think he figured I just delt in trash anyway. Not long after that I was diagnosed with something I can't even remember how to pronounce, but basically they said I had a weak heart, and by that point I couldn't really afford to do anything about it. So one night I'm crashed out in the store, and next thing I know, here comes a mob of Clockwork, and they ransack the place and run off with most of what's worth taking. And this wasn't just grab stuff and go. I guess since I was there and attempted to stop them, I dunno why, they trashed the place. The roof was falling in by the time they left. I did manage to partially disable an oscillator with a gadget I had been working on for my... uh... friend, and then I smacked it several times with this big sword somebody had dumped in the shop until the little screwball just quit.

Now, I had seen Clockwork around before that, and always found them a little bit interesting, considering my attraction to machines and such, but I'd never seen one up close, so of course I took the first opportunity I got so dissect the thing. I soon found out what an amazing little work of art the thing was, but what really ticked me off was that every connection, every part worked so perfectly and efficiently together, but I just couldn't figure out exactly how it worked. You have to understand, I became obsessed with the thing. I prodded and poked at it for almost a week, didn't eat, didn't sleep, let the rain come through the busted roof on me, couldn't quit 'til I figured it out. That's how the insurance guy the landlord sent over found me, and I told him it was over my dead body that they'd get me to leave until I finished my project. Then the guy throws up his hands and gives me this lecture on how it takes one to know one and somesuch which gives me the idea to replace my malfunctioning parts with some unexplainably functioning ones... and what I needed was just a tiny little valve, didn't seem like so much of a thing. Like I said before, I didn't really care about much anymore than figuring out what made that little sucker run, so all of this made perfect sense to me at the time, and I said as much to Mr. Liability just to shut him up. So insurance guy tells me he has a friend in the legal field, who has a friend who was blacklisted from the medical field. To make a long story at least somewhat shorter, I was able to use the parts in my possession to fix my ticker, and all it cost me, and don't ask me what that quack wanted with 'em 'cause when you're dealing with that sort even I know well enough not to ask questions, was a functioning pair of baby blues." She gestured to the optical implants. What I found out was that after the first upgrade, it was hard to stop... I deal with the daily urge to do more, and sometimes it gets the better of me... “ She stopped talking for a moment and lifted the corner of the towel to get a look at the severed arm, then quickly replaced the towel and briefly drummed nervously on the bar with her fingers. She remembered that the bar was alive so she stopped herself by sitting on her hands, then she looked back up, the sour expression suddenly replaced with the grin again.

“But I suppose I should shut my trap now before I go all twelve step on you, and you seem like too much of the straightforward sort to put up with that kind of nonsense for too terribly long."

She looked embarrassed again, wondering if she hadn’t rambled for too long as it was. She turned expectantly to the bartender, hoping the next drink would arrive soon.

Betty sipped at her drink, enjoying the cool, llimey tang of it and then returned the mock salute.

"Well then, what shall I call you? Dave or just D.B.?" She had an almost overwhelming urge to just start calling him "David," but forced it away just as she had when the host had introduced himself and she'd stopped just short of calling him "Marty."

"Actually, how 'bout this? The rest of your tab's on me for the evening. It's funny, back when I was a civvie in this town I worked my rump off for years just to make ends meet, even spent several years practically on the streets and homeless after the Rikti turned the apartment I'd scrimped and saved for over in Baumtown into a stand-in for the Leaning Tower of Pisa... but once I went and got a hero's licence, I'm hardly even to security level two and some complete stranger stops me in the middle of Atlas Park and just gives me 100 grand like it's nothing. Then I run into the same guy sometime later in Cook's and he turns me into a millionaire, just like that. Har! If I'd been a little bitter about tights before..."

She stopped talking abruptly, wondering if she probably shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. Besides, her 'mysterious benefactor' had been kinda scary - eyes she couldn't see for the green fire oozing out of the eyeholes of an iron mask and a twisted little army that had followed him everywhere of what looked like a life-sized barrel of monkeys game that had been spilled out and set on fire. He'd hardly said two words to her. Both times he's just handed her money and run off almost faster than she could follow.

"By the way, you got any suggestions off this menu? It all looks pretty good, certainly smells good. I know I want the salad but I'm having trouble deciding between the fish or the steak.

"But anyway... now that I'm actually stumbling through this hero gig, it's a lot harder than I thought it would be for the most part. Heck, just a a few minutes ago I was laid out on the sidewalk mostly dead." Her head swiveled in the direction of the arm under the towel for just a second. "Clockwork's just my particular...uh... pet peeve. What about you? You hold a particular grudge toward any of these baddies or are you just out for all of 'em?"

After the waitress dropped off the menu she started scanning it and immediately could tell it was going to take a while to decide, all the descriptions looked so good. She looked up to see the diminutive bartender fixing her drink in a shiny chrome shaker that rapidly dulled with frost as she shook it.

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"Fine, you like 'em kickin', that's your business. Just don't be too surprised if you're off fighting ol' jar-head and your own arm beats you."


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The statement coaxed a short laugh from Betty. "Ha, yeah, the funny thing is it wouldn't really be the first time something sorta like that..."

She trailed off as the man stood as if to leave, realizing that she'd probably been somewhat rude. If she'd ever had any sense of tact, it seemed to have been whittled away with the meat she'd given up. She felt her face flush again. Maybe she should've just turned tail and left the place as soon as she'd had her wits about her. A dissenting thought surfaced that she shouldn't really care... wasn't that the point of the reckless vendetta she'd started, that things like having friends wouldn't really matter anymore since it always seemed to end in tears anyway? She pushed the thought away and made an attempt to save face.

"I'm sorry, Mr.?... see I didn't even get your name. I'm sure you know what you're talking about and i'll certainly take your suggestions into consideration as I haven't really made a decision about this particular aquisition as of yet." Suddenly she was completely mortified (this wasn't the first person to suggest that her actions were perilous at the very least) and folded one side of the towel over the severed arm in an only half successful attempt at putting it out of mind for the moment.
"Since I was such a heel, would you give me the opportunity to make it up? Next round on me?"
She looked up at him from her seat and grinned again, except this time there was a more natural quality to the expresion as if it were somehow more genuine than before.

--

(OOC: Sibling, I laughed pretty good at the bit about PL being some kind of drug.
Otherwise, hope I'm doing OK with this since it's my first time roleplaying on a msg board and I ended up making a character that's more than a few cards short of a full deck. I promise the next one I bring into this fine establishment won't have nearly so many "issues.")

Betty was still looking at her feet and grinning wildly. Unlike Dark Basilisk, it looked like she was used to smiling, but there was still something unnatural about the grin.

She replied without looking up. "See, that's the thing, the alive part, that's what makes the interface so much more... personal."
*It's also probably what makes you sleepwalk... no, no, no... I've always done that , it's just a coincidence...* She detoured the unwanted thoughts to what she might order off the menu. She thought what she smelled before was some kind of seafood, but she wanted to have a look at the full menu before deciding.

"Besides," she continued, "I have a special place in my heart for those little buggers - the big ones too I guess, and not just figuratively, either." She turned her attention to Dark Basilisk. One of the little shades behind the optics slid up and down in simulation of a wink.

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"Good evening, Miss," Narshawn excused herself from the man for a moment, catching the towel in midair. "I am Narshawn, and I am certain Martin intoduced you to Ladies by the Lake. Would you care to put that on a towel, I would hate for some drink or moisture to cause corrosion. The wood is alive and contains a large amount of water." She deftly flipped the towel out to lay next to it.

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"Hiya Narshawn," Betty said, smiling as she moved the arm so that it was resting safely on the towel. She was about to go through her introduction when what the little ice lady had said registered. The bar was alive? It certainly didn't look like any green wood she'd seen before. As it dawned on her that this trick must have something to with magic, the smile faltered for a moment and she stiffened a little in her seat. She had grown up in Paragon, so strange things were, well, no stranger to her. BUt, she'd only had a little bit of personal experience with magic, and it made her nervous. First, the lady over at city hall who seemed to keep loosing things. Betty figured she forgot enough stuff as it was, she was working on making that problem obsolete, but if that's what messing around with magic got you, she could do without. Then there was that CoT place she'd got caught up into raiding in the hollows, full of things that she could swat at with her sword and it would just slip through like nothing, she didn't like that at all.

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"Will you care for a beverage, or perhaps Gertrude can get you a dinner menu?" The ice woman gazed at the arm, then at Betty, with a small, hopeful smile.


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Betty smiled again, deciding that even if the place was made of magic, thus far she'd gotten a much better reception here than what the CoT gave her. Besides, she was way to winded from the incident out on the sidewalk to really do anything about it if it turned out these people were hostiles and getting the menu seemed a lot more important right now anyhow. "Yes," she said. "Perhaps Gertrude could get me a menu, and a drink..." She stuck out her thumb, indicating the man in black down the bar. "What's tall, dark and scaley over there having?"

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"Good vodka." Basilisk turned to face the newcomer, "So, your name's Betty Clocker, huh? Heard you introducing yourself out there." He focused his gaze on the arm now resting on the bar, "So, what's his story?"

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"Mmmmmm, vodka... vodka gimlet, please." She grinned even wider at the icy bartender, then turned to the man addresing her.

"I guess his story is that the was a dirty little thief, but I get the feeling you knew that already. Now he just found out what it's like to get a little of what you give." The optical implants seemed to knit in annoyance, and the grin turned into somewhat of a scowl. "If I'm any kind of a hero, I suppose I'm something like Robin Hood... you know, steal from those who have and give to those in need. In this case, his ilk would be those who have, and those in need would be me." She smile returned and she picked up the arm again, lining it up with her own left arm and then modeling it like a hostess on a game show showing the audience the expensive watch the contestant had a chance to win. "Eh, what do you think? looks a little clunky, but then these never seemed to slow me down." She spun sideways in the stool and stuck out her overly large riveted metal feet. "In fact, since I instaled the hydrolics, I don't think I've ever had more fun getting around."
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(OOC: Manion, no big. I figured you'd stop to straighten your tie or something before approaching the podium,
so you didn't really cut. As for the rest of you - I can tell I'm having way too much fun here already.)

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"We have a table available, if you wish to sit, or you may perhaps appreciate the Bar, which also serves a complete menu."

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Betty was about to ask to be seated in the dining room when she heard the front door open behind her and she turned to see a very nicely dresed young man carrying a single long stem rose enter. At that point she decided that she would feel totally out of her element, and she'd better just ask to go to the bar. As long as they had the full menu because even though she was beginning to feel a little less addled at this point, she still wanted to get a taste of whatever was cooking.

The host seemed a bit stuffy, so she figured sh'e better introduce herself properly first.

"Hiya, Martin! I'm Betty Clocker. Nice to meet you." Her nearly white face reddened somewhat as she realized that not only had her introduction come out a lot louder than she meant it to, but that she'd unconciously held out the Clockwork hand to greet him instead of her own. The cheerful grin slid into a sheepish half-frown as she felt the heat rising up the back of her neck.
"Heh, getting a little ahead of myself there," she said in a much quieter, conspiring tone as she quickly clutched the arm to her chest as a child would a favorite teddy bear. "I guess I'll just have a seat at the bar, so long as I can still grease the old gears." She patted her stomach with her free hand.

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"Ahem, would you like me to check that item for you? I can assure you it will be secure."

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If it's all the same to you, I think I'll hang on to it." Her voice lowered even more to a whisper. "Gotta spend some time and make sure it's... uh... compatible, if you know what I mean."

Martin politely directed her to follow him down the short hallway to the right.
At that point, the beaming grin returned, any transgresions either real or imagined forgotten as she folloed him down the hall and took a seat at one of the stools so that she wouldn't have to remove the sword from her back. She placed the arm beside her on the bar and appeared to be contemplating it intently as she waited for the bartender to take her order.

As she stumbled across Oliver Street, Bettina decided that she definitely liked the concrete they used for the sidewalks in Kings Row much better than what they’d used in Steel Canyon. It had more texture and character, definitely.

A car barely missed running her over, the driver laying down on the horn as it went past. She barely noticed and fumbled over the curb on the opposite side of the street from where she had fallen. It was a good thing she’d had the sense to sift through some of the inspirational interface cards she’d recently purchased and had managed to slide the one labeled “Awaken” in to the slot she had installed between her second and third ribs on her left side. She already owed the medical establishment in Paragon more than she would like to and besides, she hated hospitals. Half the time it took even the best doctors forever just to sort out the meat from the metal, anyway. However, she wasn’t just going to lie around on the sidewalk. An office building carpet, maybe, but not concrete, pretty as it was. She wasn’t going to wait around for the things that had knocked her out to circle the block and take another shot at her either. She grabbed the handle on the first door she came to and pulled, just hoping it would open… and it did.

She found herself in a small, green curtained alcove. Once she was sure they weren’t following her, she paused to examine the prize she had taken from them. In her right hand she clutched the forearm of a Clockwork knight. It still had the hand attached to one end, but the other looked like it had been hacked off just before where an elbow joint should have been. Her lips spread into a satisfied grin and she put the severed arm under her own left arm as one would a rolled up newspaper.

Something beyond the alcove smelled awfully good, and she needed a rest anyway. ‘What the heck,’ she thought as she parted the curtains and stepped through. An unbidden thought that at the rate she was going, soon she wouldn’t need to worry about such trivialities as food and rest, immediately followed. She amended that with the observation that she liked food even if she hated needing rest, but by then she had almost walked right into a podium and the man standing behind it. She suddenly realized that she hadn’t even bothered to look at what kind of place she’d just wandered into. Public, private, friendly, hostile? Could be any of the above, she couldn’t guess one or the other by the look the guy behind the podium was giving her, but she did get the distinct feeling that she was way underdressed. If public, it didn’t look like the kind of place that would admit someone clad in patched together armor, some of which would never come off as it was part of her physiology now. The large sword, only about a foot shorter in length than she was tall strapped to her back by a series of metal rings rather than a sheath proper was probably more than enough for the man to show her to the door. Something smelled really good though. She looked at the man through her goggle like optical implants. Little mechanical shades behind the lenses slid up and down periodically as though she were blinking. Then she poked her head, crazy blonde hairdo and all, past the man as far as she could to get a look inside without actually crossing the threshold.

(OOC: Hope this is OK being my first post here. Couldn't help but jump in as I can't say I've ever enjoyed being a fly on the wall more in a very long time. )