death by Ren (tyburn) wrote in warrantlogs, @ 2016-01-24 18:49:00 |
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Jaime didn't understand Liam's friendship with Amanda. It wasn't that she was blunt or even that she seem to have no regard for authority. He honestly didn't know her well enough to comment on her personality. Quite frankly, she just rubbed him the wrong way. He had his arms crossed as the Whiskey Sour's exterior doors slid open to reveal the Singapore Sling engineer. He didn't bother trying to hide his disapproval, or offer any pleasantries beyond the bare minimal. She wasn't his guest and he was only doing the favor of coming to the door for Liam. "Come on," he beckoned impatiently. "Warm welcome," she said, in that general tone of regular, consistent disdain she wore on her breast like a dented badge of honor. She stepped in behind him, and as he turned away from her down the hall, gently rolled her shoulders in their sockets, her neck around on its pivot. It had been a good 24 hours since her marathon cleaning of the Sling, and soreness was just starting to well and truly set in. Not that she planned on letting anyone know. Well—maybe Lux. Maybe she could bargain a massage out of it. In her hands she carried a small plastic bag. In the bag, an unwrapped cardboard box. She could say something kind here, something decent. Ask after Liam. Ask after Jaime. Even just a simple how is he? Instead, she said, "So has he started making skullfucking jokes yet or what?" Less than three paces ahead and oblivious, Jaime turned his eyes heavenward and bit his tongue from muttering something obscene. "I don't know. Haven't heard any." he replied curtly with a shrug. "What's that?" He nodded at the bag, curious in spite of himself. "A severed arm." Jaime literally stopped in his tracks and turned, gaping slightly. Amanda shrugged. "I thought he would like it." "No, seriously." he said in a deadpan manner and waited for several moments, hoping for more details or a "haha just kidding". She let that hang for a moment, raising her eyebrows, like she genuinely didn't understand what he might be confused about—but she was tired, and she didn't know the layout of the ship well, and he wasn't looking to move without further explanation. With a heavy sigh, she opened the handles of the bag. Inside was a small cardboard box, perhaps six inches to a side, emblazoned on all faces with pictures of a cheap, garish model holding a cheap, garish mug. "I ONLY HAVE EYES FOR YOU" was scrawled on the porcelain in a tight, cartoonish hand, complete with big googly eyeballs in place of the e's. Jaime had a policy of keeping an open mind, and he tried hard to stick to it. The relief that he had felt momentarily upon setting eyes on the mug (instead of a severed body part) was quickly quelched by the ghastly caption printed upon it. "Very tasteful." he responded sarcastically after another pause. ...and yet Jaime had to admit that he could picture Liam liking it, laughing even. He had a twisted sense of humor that Jaime could never understand. Jaime felt a slight pang of jealousy at this weird bond Amanda shared with Liam. "I am the pinnacle of good taste," Amanda said, in the same way she might have commented about stepping in dog shit earlier in the day. Another pause. She closed the bag handles. "Are you going to take me to him or just gawk at my amazing gift-giving skills all day?" And then the moment was gone. "This way." |