Helena Wayne is (the_huntress) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-04-17 00:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | padme amidala, zoe graystone |
Who: Tristan and Tiffani
What: Tiffani brings coffee and makes sure her boss hasn’t burnt the place down.
When: Directly after this
Where: The Garden
Rating: There’s cursing, Tristan being crazy, mentions of S&M -- errr, fairly adult without any action.
Tristan was crazy, but Tiffani was really fond of her boss. The fact that she drove an RC car off the roof really shouldn’t have been a surprise, nor the blow torch, soldering iron, and ruined table. The drive over to The Garden wasn’t short exactly, but it wasn’t terribly long either. She’d been at The Ranch for the evening, but looking after Tristan was definitely more important for the moment. She stopped at the cafe she knew her boss loved and picked up a dozen blueberry scones with icing and four cups of the strongest, blackest coffee they had mixed with enough sugar to instantly cause a cavity. The bottle of vodka was stowed in her bag and she balanced everything in one hand so she could open the doors and made her way into the kitchen.
“Special delivery!” she chirped, setting the coffee carrier down on the counter. The bag with the scones went next to it so that she could pull out the bottle of vodka. That was set aside in favor of getting a plate. It took less than a minute for her to put one of the scones (the one with the most frosting) on the plate, pull one of the cups of coffee from the carrier, and set both items on the kitchen table for Tristan. That taken care of, she retrieved a large glass for herself and grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge to mix the vodka with. Her drink was more vodka than juice, but that was necessary sometimes.
“Food!” crowed Tristan from somewhere beneath the house. A minute later, she was coming out of the door that led from kitchen to basement and locking it behind her. Paranoia made for a weird bed fellow at times, but she liked it far more than having someone else in bed with her. Other people made her skin crawl, which was why she preferred her distance at the best of times.
That didn’t stop her from genuinely liking Tiffani, as much as she liked any human. She almost liked the other woman as much as she liked Aidan, which was saying something. Slipping the leather thong that her key dangled from back over her head, she made a grab for one of the coffees first.
If Tiffani kept this up, she’d be the second one Tristan replicated. As soon as she got the first one done, she had every intention of putting her thoughts and memories into it. That Tiffani might object, might not even want it, was simply not a factor in her thoughts. Pulling the lid off her coffee, she practically guzzled half of it while reaching for the plate with the scone on it. As soon as she took a break from her coffee-inhaling, she tore into the sweet treat and shoved half of it into her mouth.
And moaned. When she built her first body for the AI, she was definitely going to include taste sensors. Nothing should be without this. Ever. “Thanks,” she said around her mouthful, completely forgoing any sense of manners in Tiffani’s presence.
The easiest, most guaranteed way to get Tristan out of the basement was to bring scones and Tiffani was fairly certain that if it weren’t for her need to eat and drink, Tristan would never leave the basement. At first, she’d been politely curious about what the woman worked on so intently, but it wasn’t any of her business and she wanted to keep her job. That kept her from asking too many questions.
“You’re welcome,” Tiffani replied with an amused smile hidden behind her glass. She finished off half of it easily before she took a seat across from Tristan. “Alright so spill. Why did you have an RC car anyway? Trying to build your own?” she asked, the suggestion meant to be a joke. Tristan was really private and there wasn’t much that Tiffani knew about the older woman, but she didn’t really think the woman would buy a toy car just to run it off the roof. She’d trust her with her life, that much she knew, even if Padmé was uneasy. Tiffani just chalked it up to the Queen being prude regarding her employment.
“Testing,” came the answer. It was one of Tristan’s typical answers for anything: short, sweet, and without ever divulging anything. She shoved the rest of the scone into her mouth, making her cheeks puff out around the food so she resembled a rather pale, pierced chipmunk.
She took her time chewing, considering what she could tell Tiffani. She’d never give up much, it wasn’t in her nature, but questions were problematic. “Yes,” she finally answered after swallowing several times to get the scone down. “I need to know what materials are going to be the best for what I want to do with my lube fairies.” The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, barely smirking as she lifted the coffee cup up and took a few healthy swallows.
“Especially if I’m going to roll over anyone’s balls with them. They have to be able to manage the terrain, as well as remain hardy enough to carry the supplies.”
Tiffani wasn’t surprised with Tristan’s answer. It was a typical one, given how often she made trips with coffee and blueberry scones. Sometimes she wondered what Tristan was working away at, despite getting brushed off nearly every time she asked about it. She wasn’t quite at the point where she wanted to do some snooping though. Her desire to keep her job outweighed her worry for Tristan at the moment.
She rolled her eyes as her boss stuffed her face with her scone. It was times like this that she didn’t feel bad about lying about her age. Tiffani just busied herself with finishing her drink while Tristan got to a point where she could speak again. Where Trist only smirked, Tiffani flat out smiled. So they were going with the lube fairy story. “They’ve got to have a gentle touch then. Firm enough to hold the bottle of lube but not so tight that it’ll make the bottle explode,” she advised, just a touch cheekily. “I think you should reconsider running over peoples’ balls too, unless they ask for it. What if they ask you to do it?”
“I’m sure around here if I could get it to squeeze hard enough to explode, someone’s going to want to use that grip on their nuts. I could probably market it as a sex toy for masochists,” she said thoughtfully. Of course, a robot on wheels wasn’t what she was really working on, her work was far more important.
A cover story was useful though and while she had one, she was going to run with it. “It probably needs a carrier for condoms too. Nothing like having lube with no condoms,” she said thoughtfully as she picked out another scone and began tearing it into chunks. “If they asked me to do it, I’d use my knees to tenderize them before running them over. I think I’ve got some stilettos I could use too.” She hate walking on them, but using them to bruise some guy’s balls was probably one of the best things she could think of. “To make them extra tender. Anyway, if the girls are that worried that some damn cars are going to steal their thunder, they need to do their kegels.”
Tiffani rolled her eyes again and bit back a smile. “You have the weirdest train of thought sometimes,” she replied with a grin. “That kind of stuff isn’t usually an ‘on your own’ activity, and a good Top doesn’t need a toy to get the job done.” She shrugged and got up, mixing herself another drink. She had to laugh when Tristan painted such a vivid picture of what she’d do if anyone asked her to run their balls over. What on earth has she done suggesting such a thing?
“You’re crazy, sweetie. I hate to break it to you, but you are. I still love you though,” Tiffani assured her boss. “Kegels are a wonderful thing, aren’t they? I don’t think the girls are worried about getting replaced though. At least, not by machines. Girlfriends and wives and significant others are the real issue, or at least the ones that mind when their boyfriends and husbands come to see us.”
“I could be the only sane one, everyone else could be crazy,” Tristan pointed out as she dipped her scone pieces into her coffee and promptly ate them. It was a miracle she still had teeth. “And toys are fun to play with. You don’t need them, but they’re fun to use.” Not only that, but it meant she had to touch the few clients she took less. That was a huge plus in her book.
“Sure I could walk over some guy’s nuts, but I could also have my car run into them repeatedly, or wear the stilettos and listen to them scream,” she pointed out as she finished the rest of her coffee and grabbed the next cup. The one thing she had absolutely learned while owning the Garden and the ranch was that people were full of infinite kinks. Depravity knew no bounds when it came to what humans wanted in the bedroom and she had no compunction about profiting off it. “They’d still be useful for refills.”
“Do you think I’m crazy?” Tiff asked with a teasing smile as she slid back into her seat. She knew Tristan had some odd views of things, but that didn’t particularly bother her. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion as far as she was concerned, and since Tristan was paying her, she was allowed to have the loudest opinion. So long as that didn’t include her being crazy, of course. “Toys are fun sure, and they’re helpful for work, but relationship wise? Not really necessary in the grand scheme of things, you know?”
Maybe it was a little silly considering her line of work, but her personal tastes tended toward the refined and sweet as opposed to the harsh and domineering she sometimes was for her clients. It was how she separated work from her personal life, even if she didn’t have much of a personal sexual life to speak of. “You just like useful and violent toys, don’t you?” Tiffani just shook her head with a smile on her lips and set about enjoying her second drink. “How do you not get a zillion cavities? You eat more sugar than anyone I know.”
“Yes,” Tristan answered without missing a beat. “And who said anything about relationships?” Her face twisted up into a moue of displeasure. “The only thing worse than having some asshole that wants to sweat all over you is one that wants to keep coming back and wants to touch you all the damn time.” She shuddered and tore viciously into another scone.
“Why anyone would want a relationship is beyond me. Buy a cat. Buy a dog. Hell, buy a plant if you want something to take care of.” She tore off another bite of her third scone. “I like useful things, if they happen to be violent at the same time, all the better. “ The cup of coffee was halfway to her mouth when Tiffani asked her next question. “Fuck if I know. Superior genes. Because my dentist is my client, who the fuck knows?” It might also have something to do with the fact that unless someone reminded her, she only ate once every other day.
“Why are you drinking so much anyway?” Tristan quipped back, though she really wasn’t sure how much Tiffani had had, she wanted the attention off her.
Her face scrunched up at Tristan’s reply, but she didn’t particularly take offense to it, not with the way she said it. Why she ever expected anything from her boss was beyond her. Maybe she’d learn one of these days that Tristan just didn’t operate the same way everyone else did. Or she’d keep trying. Either way, it was what it was. “I did, I guess. I mean, does everything have to be about work all the time? It’s great and all, don’t get me wrong. I love working for you, and working at the Ranch. Relationships are just...personal. Don’t you ever feel like something’s missing?” She shrugged, because it was probably a lost cause trying to explain relationships to Tristan.
Tiff was a goddamn hooker with a heart of gold, as horribly cliche as that was. She frowned, more to herself than because of anything Tristan said, and drank more. She had to pause drinking to laugh at the answer she got about the cavities. “Jesus, who isn’t your client? Do you just take on people who’re useful?” Tiffani shook her head and took another sip before she was asked about her drinking. “Well, you drove an RC car off the roof and ruined a table. I think I’m entitled to have a few drinks,” she replied with a smirk. “Plus it helps me sleep.”
For years she’d been driven to work, not the type that paid, that was merely a distraction in the code of her life, but to work towards AI? It never felt like a job, only a dream that both soothed and strangled her. In her worst nightmares, it was actually computer wiring that choked her, forced down her throat like a feeding tube or worse, lodging in her throat, her stomach, her lungs, taking over her body until she was the robot. They were nightmares to be sure, ones that she could never wake from the panic of being unable to breathe because they were always followed by the ecstatic rapture of transformation. Thoughts becoming code, bones turned to a titanium exoskeleton, gears, hydraulics, oil all replacing muscles, joints, blood.
Bliss was a machine that Tristan didn’t have, the only thing she was missing that was like razor blades in her blood. There was nothing else she longed for, nothing else that kept her moving forward but the hope that was so jealously, cautiously guarded that she’d rather die than reveal.
“Of course I only take on people that are useful,” she whispered, the pain of not having purely physical, threatening to crush her lungs and heart. “Why else would I take them?” If they had nothing to give, Tristan simply didn’t bother with them. “I have to get back to work.”
The shift in her boss didn’t go unnoticed, but she knew the look of concern she was giving her would. Tiffani didn’t like the way she sounded and she almost reached for Tristan before thinking better of it. “I don’t know. I’m sorry I asked,” she said softly, and she sounded quite apologetic about that. She didn’t want Tristan to run off back to the basement, but there wasn’t much she could do now. She knew that. With a sigh, she pushed herself up off the chair. “Okay, I’ll clean up. See you later.” Tiffani had learned early on when a battle was lost, and even Padme agreed it was best to leave Tristan to her own devices.
“Bye,” she said, perhaps a bit too loudly and headed towards the basement. She was almost there when she whirled around and grabbed the container with the other two coffees to take with her. There was work to be done and she needed fuel to do it. As soon as Tristan got back downstairs though, she was confronted with the melted mess on her table. Setting the container back down on the floor, she went upstairs again, grabbed an ax and a saw from the garage and returned to her hole.
After a lot of cussing, banging, chopping and sawing, the table would be good kindling in the morning.