the warrant npcs. (spaceboss) wrote in warrantlogs, @ 2016-02-27 14:29:00 |
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The bar is busy for a noon day shift; another shift at the bar for the regulars, another pit stop on the bar tour for the tourists. Rhia dragged her straw across the sticky table, her eyes — usually bright and full of cheer — dulled by the never ending wait. Hours came and went and she was still parked there in a strategic corner of the room with Tag, just waiting for one of the Santa Muerte lieutenants to appear in this regular haunt of his. Conversation was strained and awkward, after the talk they had had over Kirby. Rhia stabbed the straw several times, each time harder than the last. Tag made awkward into an art form, and he usually talked with every breath he took in, but at the moment he was being uncharacteristically quiet. Maybe they just had been there too long, or he was anxious about the job. Mercy was probably having a harder time than they were. He wondered how many secrets were going around at this point. Euphie joked that she would look into his past, but Tag had no secrets. Well except for that little one that Rhia attempted to poke at until he scurried away. It was probably how long they were there. He leaned his arm on the table and his head was propped up on his fist. He maybe almost nodded off a few times and so did she; neither of them were made for sitting still for long. Outside of, you know, Tag being a pilot and sitting still for hours at a time. This just felt different. He fidgeted and changed positions, slouching in his chair. "Oh my god how is this so boring we're like on a stake out." "We are." came the answer in monotone. Rhia raised her glass and signalled the waitress. "Stake outs should be interesting, shouldn't they?" Tag put his arms up on the table and rested his head on top of them, sighing. She turned to survey the room once again, peering over the rim of her sunglasses. They lapsed into a brief silence again. "What do we do if she walks in and resists arrest?" Rhia pondered out loud. She had never gone after family of her own crew before. It was uncharted territory. He considered her question with a quirk of an eyebrow and then a muffled shrug. "You can probably take her? Like punch her in the face a few times." Rhia was pretty badass. He couldn't imagine Mercy's sister was more so. "Or we can hold her down together, I don't know." As long as she came out of it alive, it'd be fine. Rhia puffed up her cheeks and exhaled dramatically. "I meant, like do we introduce ourselves? Or do we go in hot?" She drummed her fingers. Mercy was her friend. Her crew. Oh, what a dilemma. The complicated turn of a bounty that wasn't so straightforward — the second-guessing, the self-doubt. It drew the attention of eyes from the front entrance, quiet and considering and lined with long lashes that had seen no need to sweep the rest of the establishment. Inhale of a cigarette, exhale. She already knew they were here alone. "We can't introduce ourselves, she'll run. Hi, we're from the RAC, we're here for your bounty. I don't think it'll go over well." Tag wasn't usually the stand off type of guy, but Mercy's sister was a little less intimidating than most bounties. "Did you know about Mercy's sister?" Euphie didn't seem to know. -but there was no answer, too distracted by the glimpse of a familiar face. Tag, noticing the change in her expression, whipped his head around in that direction. Like a cat stirred from its nap, the gunner uncurled from her seat, straightened. And through the flow of the crowd and the gentle dance of smoke, Rhia glimpsed the face of a ghost, a face no one had laid eyes on since the explosion that had rocked headquarters. Dark eyes, honey brown hair, beauty mark— The chair fell back with a crash her glass shattered on the floor Tag's question forgotten The crowd's chatter arose to agitated shouts as the killjoy pushed her way towards the entrance. And with the ease of a ghost, that honey brown hair was disappearing around the corner, the folds of that white dress fluttering out of sight and leaving only cloves' smoke hovering in its wake. "Was that ——" Tag scrambled out of his chair and followed Rhia, only a half step behind. "Mara." The name came out in an angry breathe. "Fuck, hasn't she been missing?" He hissed at his friend, nervous, only getting an uncomfortable sense of how much this could possibly mean. "Clearly not." Rhia came barrelling out the door, her baton already extended and in hand. No gun yet, not on Muerte turf. Thoughts of Honor Frey and Santa Muerte were temporarily shelved for the moment, but not forgotten. "Shit. Where'd she go?" Tag looked around, turning as he did, thinking if he could just see everything maybe they'd catch sight. But no such luck. "I have zero idea. Holy shit." She didn't just disappear like that. This was some high level spy-like behavior. Or worse. He didn't know. "We have to tell the Captain." "Santa Muerte can wait. Come on!" |