InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Pretentious, little brat!"

Iris James 秋 Zoë Washburne (someslink) wrote in thereincarnates,
@ 2016-07-11 21:29:00

Entry tags:

bishop shaw, iris james

Who: Iris James and Bishop Shaw
What: Boy meets girl, girl is killing exercise equipment
Where: Camelot training room
When: Monday, July 11th 2016
Warnings: TBD, nothing major probably

By Camelot standards, it had been a pretty uneventful last week, it was just the rest of the world that was going crazy right now. Only one incident where the combat department had actually been called into duty and it wasn't even a fight, just a precaution, otherwise most of the unexpected free time had been filled with extra training sessions. Iris didn't mind, since she was at her best when she was keeping her mind from wandering. Usually by distracting it with some sort of physical violence. If the combat department and Camelot's extensive training rooms couldn't help with that, Iris knew she could usually count on Mike to help her out by finding the nearest bar full of red necks to start a fight in. If nothing else, that usually did the trick. Iris had a lot of pent up aggression always in storage, and nothing ever felt quite as good as whaling on the face of a racist hillbilly with no brain and only half his teeth. As a black woman, Iris felt a deep satisfaction, even a responsibility, to regularly dole out violence to the uneducated and biggoted.

Today, Mike was nowhere to be found, probably off with his hot wife who he'd been lucky enough to accidentally marry. Iris liked Kat a lot, she fit right in with the rest of the crew, but Kat and Mike were more or less the same person. One on their own was fine, but when you get them both at once it could be utter insanity. Sometimes that's just what Iris was signing up for, but not today. She wasn't really in the mood for that kind of chaos, so she didn't try very hard to find them, instead making her way to the training rooms at the end of the day when everyone less dedicated had already abandoned the place and most of the trainers were just letting the stragglers fend for themselves with the equipment. Which suited Iris just fine, actually. As valuable as she found Jess and Lucas's methods, sometimes all they really did was slow her down.

Iris ignored the other people in the room for the most part, going straight for one of the suspended punching bags hanging from the ceilings at the far end of the room, closer to the office doors that Lucas and Jess usually hid behind when they weren't out here barking orders. Iris wasn't actually sure if they were in there at the moment, but she didn't bother checking, immediately setting to work wrapping her hands up to get in at least a good half hour with something that wasn't going to fight back. Iris didn't usually mind having a real, live opponent, and sometimes she preferred it, but in the current mood she was in, it was probably better for everyone's well being that she took it all out on an inanimate object. Sticks and swords and guns were all well and good, but sometimes, there was nothing better than your own fist connecting with something solid, over and over again until you were done.

It was easy to lose track of the time when she started doing this, and after the first few rounds with the punching bag, Iris stopped keeping count. The repetition was therapeutic, every solid punch and kick that she landed on it deeply satisfying, but Iris kept going, working the punching bag furiously until she was little more than a blur of flying fists and feet, every grunt in time with the harsh movements of her body. The few people that were in the training room knew better than to bother Iris while she was busy working something out, knew better than to interrupt until it was obvious she was slowing down. She had family in Baton Rouge. It was awhile before Iris was finally able to slow herself down but in doing so she misjudged her last move, twisting her body in a hard round house kick that sent the punching bag actually flying off its hinges and crashing to the ground. Iris bent over to place her hands on her knees and catch her breath, most of her body covered in sweat where it wasn't clothed by the shorts and sports bra she had on. After a few seconds and a drink of water, she just moved on to the next punching bag to start administering more controlled hits, slower and steady, it was her way of cooling her body down. She completely ignored all the stares.

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someslink
2016-07-13 11:30 pm UTC (link)

While Iris didn't have to try very hard to tune the rest of the room out, it was actually pretty hard not to notice the man in the suit, even for her. For one thing, he stuck out like a sore thumb when he walked in, so drastically different from everyone in the training room wearing various versions of work out clothes that you would have to be blind not to immediately notice the man in the suit when he walked in. Nobody was ever dressed that formally in Camelot's training rooms, which meant he probably wasn't a new member of the department, but he was definitely new to her.

That was the first thing Iris noticed, followed closely by the brief, silent appreciation of his undeniably handsome attributes while continuing to pummel the punching bag in front of her at the same steady rhythm. She didn't know who he was, but she knew he must be a newer addition to Camelot, because she'd only started seeing him around recently. Once or twice she'd seen him with Jess, which could only mean that the man was braver than he looked, if he was willingly hanging out with a woman who was that casual with an axe.

Once it became obvious that he was walking towards her, or more accurately, towards Jess and Lucas's office, Iris slowed down a little, keeping her breathing even with her body's movements in the wind down as she stopped whaling on the bag and very steadily came to a halt with one last good punch. She'd already worked out most of the tension in her body so it was easier for her to stop and not immediately feel like she was crawling out of her own skin, coiled up like a snake ready to strike out again. Her limbs felt loose and spent, casually draping an arm around the punching bag in a relaxed lean to take a breath as the attractive man approached.

"You lost?" Iris raised an eyebrow, the adrenaline still apparent in her eyes a little but everything else about her posture suggested that she hadn't just been going full tilt on an inanimate object for fun. Anyone that knew Iris knew how easily she could switch from calm and collected to a violent machine, but he didn't know her. It had stopped phasing Iris a long time ago, right around the time she stopped just being Iris James and also started being Zoë Washburne. "Or looking for someone?"

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masksamadman
2016-07-20 12:26 am UTC (link)

Bishop hadn't expected her to stop her workout to talk to him. She'd seemed like she was pretty intent on it, and it wasn't her responsibility to check and see what people who wandered into the room were there about, unless she was in the training department. Bishop didn't think that she was, he thought he knew the name of everyone that Jess worked directly with, by then, but he could have missed out on some important details. It was pretty unlikely that Jess would think to tell him that she worked with a very attractive woman who might happen to be hanging around the punching bags, sometimes.

Still, it was nice of her to check, and Bishop turned his attention from directly toward the door to directly toward her with a smile. "I was just checking to see if Jess was around. Or Lana, Ryder, or Christian." Of course, that would give anyone who was familiar with all of their reincarnates a very good idea of what sort of connection Bishop had with them, but it wasn't like it was some sort of secret that they were keeping, especially not at Camelot. "Nothing urgent, just a social visit." After all, he didn't want to interrupt if there was something important going on in the office.

It almost didn't occur to Bishop to actually introduce himself to her, while he was stopped to chat. That, he thought, was probably one of the biggest reasons why his personal life, outside of his family and friends he'd made through Cinna, was a little on the nonexistent side. It was easy to get out of the habit of being social for more than the bare minimum, especially when it was actually your job. Meeting people could turn into work, sometimes, not something that you did because you were a person, and people needed interaction.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Bishop." He held out his hand, reminding himself to keep his eyes on her face, instead of looking down at all of the sweaty skin on display. She might not mind, but she might also punch him... besides, ogling was just rude. There might have been a brief glance, a flicker of his eyes down instead of straight ahead. He'd apologize if he had to, but... she really did have a very nice body. "I'm normally in the London office, so if I was trying to get too many other places here, I might actually be lost."

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someslink
2016-07-22 07:42 pm UTC (link)

Had it been anyone else, or a stranger who didn't look as good in a suit, Iris honestly might not have stopped. She and Zoë were many things, but they were still only human. Amazon warrior queen, ex-military, professional criminal, foot soldier for Camelot. Zoë and Iris both tended to operate within a specific skill set, and while she didn't spend as much time pulling off jobs in space, the fact remained that they were still pretty single-minded when it came to how they spent their time. Iris was for the most part content as long as she was hitting something (or someone), drinking with her crew, or out causing trouble. Sometimes all of the above. She didn't tend to notice men, not unless there was something exceptional about them.

This 'Bishop' seemed exceptional, even if this assessment was based purely off of his looks at the moment. Even Iris could be shallow enough to prioritize looks first before personality, and sometimes the former was all she needed when she wasn't looking for anything else. She knew that Zoë missed Wash, but Iris couldn't spend her entire life waiting around for him to show up, and she definitely couldn't spend her time going around giving every funny guy who might be him the time of day. A good idea in theory, maybe, but not in practice. Iris wasn't willing to go that far for her reincarnate's husband, especially when she might not like the package he comes in. Just because Wash was an amazing man didn't mean his host would be.

Bishop, though, whoever his reincarnate was, came in a very nice package. Aside from looking good in a suit (which wasn't a requirement for Iris, just a bonus), he had a nice, easy smile that he flashed at her readily. The kind of smile that instantly made her feel less on edge and ready to drop her guard. A woman like Iris always more or less operated on two switches. Violent, and non-violent. Someone either immediately raised her blood pressure and kick started her need to punch through a situation or they didn't. Considering she'd already beat one punching bag into submission, and Bishop didn't have the sort of face that made her feel like punching it, her muscles stayed relaxed instead of her usual cool, caginess.

"Iris," she responded easily, extending her hand to shake his after only a brief pause for consideration. She noticed the momentary flicker, but didn't feel offended by it. If he didn't mind all the sweat, then she didn't really mind him staring a little. Iris smiled slightly. She didn't know Jess or the rest of her group of friends much beyond how Jess, Lana and Christian fought in combat's training sessions, but that was enough to already be a little impressed at his choice in friends. "Just a social visit? With that bunch? You must not be afraid of much, running with a group like that."

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masksamadman
2016-07-28 08:14 pm UTC (link)

Since Iris had been pummeling the punching bag when he came in, Bishop didn't think she'd appreciate it if he pulled his punches on the handshake. He gripped her hand securely, gave her his best 'first impression' handshake. It wasn't exactly important that she be impressed by him, but just because something wasn't technically important, it didn't mean he planned on letting it slide. That was how you got out of practice for when your handful niece finally got out of her teenage years and you could start thinking about making good first impressions on women who could probably crush you with their little fingers, if they really wanted to. Not that Bishop had met many of those, before he'd become a reincarnate.

"With friends like that, what do I have to be afraid of?" Bishop slid his hand away from hers, eyes wrinkling at the corners while he held back a laugh. He knew exactly what Iris was talking about, of course. He hadn't seen Jess, Lana, or Christian in a fight, but Cinna knew what Johanna, Katniss, and Finnick could do. Bishop's friends had more time to practice what they knew than their reincarnates ever had, so there was no doubt in his mind that they could be terrifying. Not to Bishop, though. There was a certain amount of handling them carefully that had to be done, same as anyone who had memories of something traumatic, the kind of nightmares that fighting for your life left you with, but Bishop wasn't intimidated by it.

It was true, though. Bishop wasn't exactly a fighter, himself, but he knew he could count on his friends, if he got stuck in one. If they could get to him in time, of course. He hoped that they'd be able to more for their sake than his; Lana, especially, already worried too much, thanks to Katniss, and what had happened to Cinna. Neither Bishop nor Cinna wanted them to have to deal with that kind of guilt a second time. There weren't as many chances this time, though, no Mockingjay masterpiece that would spark a rebellion and paint a giant target on his back. If there was... it would be worth it. Bishop wouldn't hesitate, if that was what the world needed. Luckily for him, for all of them, they were in the kind of place that wasn't going to let that happen to them, not without having enough people backing them up that they had a better chance of getting out alive.

...that was a little too heavy of a thought for meeting someone new, though. Bishop really was out of practice with this, outside of his new job. Even with that, he wasn't being exposed to the general public much, anyway. That was all Zach, and Freddie. Bishop was happier behind the scenes, anyway, dealing with the little things. So... really, outside of his department, Iris might have been the first adult he'd met that wasn't from his source, since he'd started working at Camelot. That was almost depressing. He really needed to do something about that. "It's nice to meet you, Iris." His voice was warm, and there ought to have been no doubt from anyone hearing him that he meant it, completely and genuinely.

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someslink
2016-07-31 01:44 am UTC (link)

He gave a good handshake, not that Iris always paid attention to that sort of thing. In this case she did, mostly because the handshake came attached to someone with a face as nice as his. Not always, but sometimes, Iris could forgive a lot for a pretty face. Bishop had one of the prettiest faces she'd seen in a good long time, right down to that cute little twinkle in his eyes that betrayed the laugh he hadn't actually let out. He had kind eyes too, and a certain way about him that indicated a sort of warmth. A far cry from the usual, rough-around-the-edges types that Iris usually ran with. It was a nice change.

"I can relate," Iris conceded as they dropped hands, hers falling back down to her side and relaxing, despite the work out she'd just put her hands through. Iris's crew wasn't exactly harmless either, and most people knew never to get in between Mike and someone he wanted to punch. Kat was a wild card in most situations, but when it came to her husband, god help anyone who tried to get in a fight with Mike in front of her. And Bev, well... Bev was River. You didn't get much more dangerous than that. Iris was maybe the most normal of the bunch, and that still wasn't saying much considering what she did in her spare time. You weren't exactly harmless when you could break a man's neck with your legs.

That was Iris, professional slaughterer of punching bags and occasional breaker of men's necks. Not exactly the type of woman who would usually be caught dead chatting up a pretty boy in a nice suit, and yet here she was, momentarily transfixed and pretty content to stay put right where she was. It was sort of like wading through an endless sea of fish until one day you finally came across a mermaid. A weird metaphor to use for someone who wasn't a sailor, and Bishop definitely wasn't any kind of maid, but Iris couldn't think of a good comparison from her and Zoë's travels across the 'Verse. All that was really out there were other space pirates and reavers.

"Nice to meet you too," Iris said, a smile still in the corners of her mouth as she looked him over again, more curious than anything. He seemed so different from most of the people here in Camelot that he had to be working one of the milder jobs in the organization. Probably behind a desk. Though that wide eyed, friendly look that still lacked a certain hardness could very well be largely because he was new enough not to have seen much of anything yet, she wasn't ruling that out, but still. It was refreshing, talking to someone who still had most of their social graces, despite the fact that Iris didn't have much in the way of her own. "So what do you do here that has you looking so sharp after hours?"

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masksamadman
2016-07-31 10:06 pm UTC (link)

Bishop smoothed the front of his suit jacket a little self-consciously. Not that he thought she was poking fun at him, or the way he was dressed, but the mention of it did make him a little too aware of the way he was dressed, and reminded him that he did stick out a little, there. "Public relations. Zach doesn't call it our uniform, but that's because he doesn't need to say it." After all, you did have to dress a certain way, if there was any chance of coming into contact with the public at all. At least, you did if you were supposed to be partially responsible for Camelot's public image, something that Bishop took just as seriously as he thought he was supposed to.

As for Iris... she definitely didn't do anything that required sitting behind a desk. Bishop thought he could make a pretty good guess about where it was that she belonged. Actually, he could narrow it down to two. "Combat, or Security?" He nodded toward the punching bag she'd been working at. He almost acknowledged the one on the floor, too, but he didn't know if she was responsible for that or not, and he didn't want to assume. "Anywhere else seems like it would be a waste of your talents." Of course, Iris could have talents other than the ones that Bishop had seen. People did tend to have hidden depths.

Bishop wasn't sure if he was one of those people, of course. Unlike Cinna, who was nothing but depth underneath the mask that you had to put on if you wanted to succeed in the Capitol. Of course, even that mask had been a little mild, for the Capitol. No one would have ever guessed that there was a revolutionary underneath it, though. Bishop, fortunately, didn't have to hide behind anything. He'd never been in a situation where being himself, and making how he really felt about something clear, would have been dangerous for him or anyone else. He'd never been particularly revolutionary, either, but it wasn't exactly like he'd had anything to revolt over.

Of course, he wasn't going to complain about a quiet life. Not that much, anyway. 'Quiet' could be a blessing, when it meant that no one you cared about was going out and getting themselves in trouble when you couldn't do anything about it. Given the world they lived in, and the facts about where he worked, and the people he cared about, that wasn't exactly the sort of thing that was guaranteed to stay the same. It might have been quiet, lately, since the attempted shooting that Freddie's older half-brother had pushed him out of the way of in time, but that could change at any time, and most of the people he cared about would be in the thick of it, if it did.

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someslink
2016-08-03 04:43 pm UTC (link)

"Evans would probably have a stroke if someone in his department came to work in casual wear." Iris didn't really know Zach (or the other members of the Evans family, for that matter, though she'd had the most exposure to Lydia when security and combat were thrown together for various reasons), but you didn't need to know the man well to know that much. Zach wore his suits like most people wore their own skins. One of those wealthy, privileged white boy entitled things that people did because they could, not because they had to.

Somehow, Bishop didn't really seem like the type who wore a suit because he could, that awkward smoothing down the front of his jacket move making that assumption a little more obvious and also strangely endearing to her. Not usually her style when it came to men she was physically attracted to, but it actually made Iris like him a little bit more for that, plus the fact that he still looked damn good in a suit. When it came to pretty men, Iris could be easy to please.

His assumption of what department she fit into in Camelot and why didn't offend her, it just meant he had eyes. Someone like her would be wasted behind a desk, and not just because she'd probably end up breaking it. But mostly. Iris was perfectly aware of where her talents were, so she just tilted her head, as if to say 'what else would it be?' Iris wasn't exactly someone who you could picture making nice for the cameras or tinkering with gadgets down in R&D. She'd been a soldier long before Zoë was in the picture. "Combat. Security wouldn't be able to afford the way I handle the equipment."

She looked sideways at the punching bag on the ground and shrugged, seeming unconcerned by the carnage. She wasn't the only one who went through work out equipment in here as fast as she went through pairs of underwear, their fearless department leader more or less encouraged them to go as hard on the equipment as they could in the interest of honing their skills. Camelot could afford it, apparently. "Guess I make the messes and you make me look good, huh?"

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masksamadman
2016-08-06 02:11 am UTC (link)

'Having a stroke' might have been an exaggeration... but then again, it might not have. Bishop had never tested his limits, when it came to that. He was too old, and theoretically too mature, to push until he figured out exactly where the boundaries were when it came to a job, especially a job as high profile as PR at Camelot. If his boss preferred them to be in suits, looking ready for the cameras at all times, Bishop wasn't going to argue about it, he was going to wear a suit. He was at least used to dressing up for work, even if it had always stopped at slacks and a dress shirt, sometimes a tie, before.

He didn't miss the way Iris glanced over at the punching bag when she mentioned handling the equipment. That, he guessed, meant that she had been the one to knock it down. Maybe that should have intimidated Bishop, at least a little. If she could do that to a punching bag, something built to take the kind of hit that she was delivering, someone like him didn't stand a chance, if she ever decided to aim that punch at him, instead.

It probably should have, but it didn't. As he'd said, what did you really have to be afraid of, when you were friends with the people he was friends with? Iris had no reason to punch him, and he didn't plan on giving her one. Honestly, it was a relief, knowing that was one more person on his side that he could count on to hold her own when things went wrong. Because things did, and would, go wrong. And then, when they were right again, she'd need him to spin the story the right way.

"I don't think that would take much." It wasn't quite flirting, but it wasn't not flirting, either. Bishop was sincere about it. "Maybe my job's just to point out to people how good you already look." After all, he couldn't make anything of anybody that wasn't already there. He might be able to draw it forward, frame it correctly for the public that was looking at it, but anything good would come from Iris... or whoever else he happened to be representing, at that time. The combat department as a whole, he supposed, would be more likely than anyone specifically. It was almost a shame. There seemed to be plenty of good points to Iris that he wouldn't mind pointing out to anybody who needed to see them at all.

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someslink
2016-08-11 10:41 pm UTC (link)

It didn't always happen, but sometimes, all you really needed was an unexpected pick-me-up to instantly brighten your day. It wasn't that the dark cloud she'd been under before was gone, at least not completely. Iris could still feel it around her edges, but it was a lot less sharp and distracting to her the longer she was in Bishop’s presence, no longer at the forefront of her mind now that she was sufficiently side tracked by the handsome guy from PR in front of her. Mike would give her shit for letting a pretty face distract her from finishing her round with the punching bag, but it's not like he had any room to talk where getting distracted by pretty faces was concerned. Iris didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for reshuffling some of her priorities.

Admittedly, it had been awhile. Iris wasn't exactly the type who liked to date around, it was hard enough finding someone she liked enough for even one night’s worth of fun. She wasn't picky, she just had zero tolerance for bullshit, and people carried a lot of bullshit. Some too much for Iris to even tolerate a conversation, much less a one night stand or beyond that. She didn't ask for much, just that you don't be a complete moron. Bishop, so far, didn't seem to be the least bit stupid, which was promising when you put that together with the good looks and the easy, welcoming smile that made it hard not to feign a lower level interest. Iris didn't believe in playing hard to get, but she also liked to play things a little bit closer to the chest. At least at first.

That comment was hard to miss, whether Bishop intended it that way or not, but Iris was pretty sure that it was more intentional than not. Maybe cleverly disguised under the thinly veiled excuse that the man was in PR, and it was his job to make the people of Camelot as well as the organization as a whole look good, but still. Iris had been at this for a long time, she could sense a compliment when she heard it. Even an indirect one. Points to him for his obvious talent in the art of subtlety, another thing Iris could appreciate about him. Not that she'd mind him getting a little more forward with her, but there was something to be said about a handsome man not showing all his cards to you at once. It just made her want to see more of them.

Iris's eyes flashed with a fierce interest and smiled genuinely, a sight not seen often if you knew her, or spent enough time in her general vicinity. For the most part when she was on Camelot grounds it was all business, no play. If Iris wanted to play, she was usually out at a bar somewhere or in Serenity for a joy ride, and even then the people closest to her rarely saw that kind of phenomenon. There was just something about Bishop's earnest face that made Iris soften in a way she wasn't used to. Under other circumstances that might have been enough to put her on edge, but not today. She'd already worked off most of her edge on that first punching bag. And she was definitely flirting. "Cute. Do you say that to all the people in combat or am I just special?"

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masksamadman
2016-08-15 09:46 pm UTC (link)

Iris had already looked good, of course. Bishop was pretty sure he hadn't exactly been as subtle about that as he'd have liked to have thought he was. It really had been a while since he'd tried that kind of subtlety, he thought it was at least a little understandable that he wasn't quite up to standards. Iris didn't seem to mind, though, not with the way that she smiled at him and looked at him like he was someone actually interesting. She'd realize she was wrong, he thought, if they hung out that much more. Bishop had always been more... interesting-adjacent. Friends with the really interesting people. There to back them up. Betting on them, even. He wasn't the kind of guy that was built to be the star of the show, and honestly, he liked it that way. Iris, though, she was looking at him like he wasn't just a background character.

It felt pretty good, actually. And he might not have remembered quite how flirting worked, but he could definitely tell when someone was flirting with him. "I think the party line's supposed to be that each and every one of us is special..." He chuckled, a silent invitation to her to join in on the joke. That was more of the sort of response that would be expected from a stylist, honestly, than a member of PR. It wasn't exactly Bishop's job to make each and every person that crossed his path into the kind of special thing that would capture the attention of a self-absorbed, frivolous Capitol. Of course, it didn't hurt to have that kind of take on it, when you were working in PR, either. It was just a little less life or death, this way, than it had been for Cinna.

"I haven't met anyone from combat but you and the people I was already friends with before I started working here," Bishop told her. It wasn't a direct answer, of course. It was still playing things a little close to his chest. "I think it might mean a little more for me to call you special after I have a bigger group to compare you to." Not saying that she wasn't, of course. Bishop had a feeling that she was going to stand out no matter how many people you put next to her, of course, but he wasn't exactly in the habit of giving shallow compliments, if he was really going to invest in them. It also went without saying that he wasn't going to say that his friends weren't special, of course. He'd be an awful friend, if he did that, and honestly, they were special. Just... not quite in the same way that he had a feeling he'd find Iris special.

Would Iris be the kind of woman who would appreciate that he didn't just hand out smooth lines unless he meant them? Bishop hoped so. He didn't think she was the kind of woman that needed that kind of compliment to feel good about herself, by any means, but he could have been seeing what he wanted to, in her, from the little bit he'd already been lucky enough to watch in action. If he was lucky, he'd get the chance to get to know her well enough that calling her special would actually mean something... not that he had the time for it. No more than he'd had in the second before he'd walked into the room and seen a woman glistening with sweat while she took on a punching bag. Some things, and some people, couldn't just be put aside until you had the time for them.

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someslink
2016-08-20 02:03 pm UTC (link)

She did appreciate it, actually. Truth be told, there was nothing she liked more than a guy who so very clearly wasn't trying to be smooth. He wasn't exactly stumbling over his words, she imagined that someone who did that wouldn't be very effective in PR, but it was still the sort of roundabout compliment that was completely unique to men like him. Iris blamed Zoë for her weakness for men who were allergic to sleazy pick-up-lines and smooth talk, who were much more likely to awkwardly compliment the size of her head than the shape of her ass.

Bishop might not be Wash, or be exactly like Wash in all of her husband's more outwardly eccentric qualities, but it was that same endearing quality so unique to that kind of man in particular that immediately drew Iris to him more than anything else would have. Call her weird, but she preferred them sincere over smooth. Iris wasn't exactly the kind of woman that needed to be talked up, flattery was nice but she didn't really see the use in it, after a certain point. There was only so much you could do with words, especially when they were more of the shallow variety and lacking in any real substance.

He was still more or less a mystery to her at the moment, but Iris could already tell that Bishop was a man who was full of substance, not full of shit. He could have taken what she'd said and immediately turned it into a physical compliment, maybe even a thinly veiled come-on. Not his style, clearly, and admittedly that just made Iris twice as interested than she had been before. Not that she was any more like to judge a book solely by its cover, but
it was always nice to see when she wasn't just dealing with a pretty face. Bishop seemed to be a lot more than that.

“That right?” Iris was playing with him now, curious to see what he'd do next. She made no secret of the fact that she was sizing him up while they stood there, a uniquely appreciative look on her face. Not just because she liked what she saw (though she did, obviously, he was way more handsome than he had any right to be while also not seeming to be a complete scumbag), but because of his answer. It wasn't an easy job, impressing someone like Iris, but he'd managed to do it in less than five minutes while also winning her respect. A coy smile played on her lips as she leaned in an inch, like they were exchanging state secrets. “Maybe you should start taking a poll with the others, and get back to me. I'll wait.”

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masksamadman
2016-08-23 12:07 am UTC (link)

Honestly, Bishop wasn't all that used to being sized up, himself. It was a hazard of staying in the background most of the time, he thought, not actually knowing what to do with someone really looking at you. At least it looked like Iris liked what she saw, so far, which wasn't something he'd have been willing to put any money on before. Not that he was ever that much of a gambler, on a normal basis. That one was a hazard of working in a bank for as long as he had, you saw a few too many people empy their accounts and end up with nothing when they thought they were going to get a big break if they just took a chance at it.

It was a little past a gamble now, though, there wasn't any mistaking the way that Iris was looking at him, or that she was pleased by whatever it was she was seeing. Hearing, too, he thought, or she wouldn't look quite as appreciative of him as she did, right then. That smile she gave him, that was almost enough to make a guy's heart jump, and his palms sweat, if he were more susceptible to jumping hearts and sweating palms. It did send a thrill of nerves down Bishop's spine, but the good kind of nerves. The kind that you got from riding a roller coaster. "I don't know, I've never thought polls were very reliable. I like to make my own call."

That even had the benefit of being true. It was a little too easy for polls to be skewed, after all, just like most tools to measure public opinion without actually getting out there and interacting with the public. You could make a lot more of a personal call about someone from two minutes face to face than you could from hours of studying a paper. Not that he thought the public (in this case, Combat) would dare say anything too bad about Iris, if he went around asking them. Or maybe they would. Maybe everyone in Combat was as beautifully terrifying (or was it terrifyingly beautiful?) as Iris was, and he just hadn't noticed because everyone he knew was firmly in the 'friend' category.

Somehow, he couldn't see that being the case. He had a feeling that Iris was in a class all of her own.

She was willing to wait, though, for him to come to some sort of decision on how special he thought she was. That was pretty special, all by itself. "I'm willing to be a little biased by the time I meet the rest of them. Give you a good chance to get your pitch in before anyone else has a chance to start persuading me." They'd have to be pretty persuasive, if they were going to convince him that they were more impressive than Iris. He didn't think anyone else would even want to try.

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someslink
2016-08-27 02:23 pm UTC (link)

There was something pretty special about a guy who didn't try to pick her up with a sleazy line and a lot of smooth talk. For someone who prided herself in having a hard outer shell, it wasn't completely impenetrable. She couldn't help being a little charmed by it. Iris wasn't usually interested in the type of guy you could actually bring home to the parents. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if Bishop was actually the mamma's boy type. Strangely, that didn't bother her. He was cute enough that short of being a serial killer, Iris was prepared to forgive a lot if it meant that she directly benefited from it.

Not to mention, he didn't seem to be put off at all by the sweaty mess she was from the intense work out she'd just put herself through, or the fact that she was evidently capable of knocking a punching bag completely off its hinges without any physical enhancements. A lot of men would at least be turned off by the second, or otherwise be too intimidated to pursue a conversation. Iris didn't have the patience for men who couldn't handle a strong woman, but something about Bishop told her that he wasn't that kind of guy. And not just because of the friends he kept, though that certainly helped his case. No, there was something unique enough about Bishop that it firmly held Iris's interest.

Camelot just didn't make 'em like this anymore, the men she usually came across were either dumb jock types or eccentric shut ins. Not Bishop. Bishop was somewhere in between, still masculine but also intelligent and well spoken. Iris wasn't still so in her head after the workout she'd just put herself through that she couldn't appreciate a finely made man when she met one. He didn't really seem to know what to do under her pointed gaze, which was almost adorable. It also meant that he was more on the humble side of confident, which was rare to find in a man who looked like he did. Bishop was either completely oblivious to how handsome he was or he wasn't the type to acknowledge it.

He was giving her a window, whether he meant to or not. Even in her somewhat disheveled, post-work out state, Iris still wasn't going to pass up the chance to hit on an attractive man that so far she actually enjoyed talking to. Sometimes talking wasn't necessary, if you were in it for something other than a good conversation, but Iris wasn't prepared to write this one off just yet. Miracles did happen, because in the moment she actually felt like she wanted to get to know him a little better first. Considering him carefully for a moment, Iris tilted her head to the side and bit down on her bottom lip before deciding to just go for it. "What are you doing later? I could use a drink."

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masksamadman
2016-08-28 12:15 am UTC (link)

Giving Iris a chance to ask him out hadn't been something that Bishop had planned for, exactly. Not that he hadn't wanted her to. Bishop definitely didn't think that men ought to be the only ones doing the asking, if they were both interested in each other. He liked that, that Iris had taken the initiative, moved on to the next step after the flirting that they'd been doing... more awkwardly on his part, he thought. Of course, since she had just asked him about a drink, he thought that he'd probably get a chance to practice that a little more, get back into the habit of it, as long as he said yes.

It wasn't like he actually had any plans, aside from going home, eating something, checking in on his family. If he didn't say yes, he'd probably end up spending the night on the couch, watching a television show that he didn't even really care all that much about anyway. He might pull out a sketchbook, start practicing on a design just to have something productive to do. He needed to practice that, too, anyway, but it would still just be him and his couch. Doing something different, something outside of the routine, wasn't anything he'd been planning on when he left his house that morning. Of course, he guessed that doing something outside your normal routine sometimes meant that you didn't plan it, by definition.

Sure, it would be more comfortable. He could even ask for a rain check, see if she wanted to meet up some other time, instead, when they both had some more time to prepare themselves for it. Friday, maybe. It was a Monday, after all, not your normal night for going out for a drink with a friend, or someone that you might like to be more than friends with, if everything went well with that first drink. At least, it wasn't Bishop's normal night for going out for a drink with a friend. He didn't know what Iris's normal was, or how Iris's normal might work with his normal. If they'd be compatible, past thinking each other attractive. If she liked kids, if she'd get along with his niece, he didn't know any of it.

There was only one way to get to know it, though. Besides, the way she bit her lip sort of made the decision for him, anyway. "Nothing that can't wait long enough for me to have a drink. Maybe even two." Bishop reached into his pocket, grabbed for his phone. "Here, if you put your number in, I'll text you." The press of a few buttons, and the screen to add a contact was even pulled up and ready to go, cursor blinking. It wasn't any kind of obligation, exchanging numbers. Getting a drink. Just because they went out once, it didn't mean that either of them owed the other anything. It felt like it might, though. Like it might be the start of something really, really good.

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