Her hand finally made it into the front inside pocket of her duster as she sat up. A crumpled box of smokes appeared and she pushed the lid open with her thumb; this was around the same time she watched the android bow. Offering a mock two finger salute, she next dug out her lighter and sparked the fag to life with a deep inhale.
After he replayed her voice she smirked; it was an action done both because of his return comment and because she now knew he’d been recording her voice. Never mind that he could be recording it because he recorded everything; it still gave that part of her that felt like a little imp tugging on his hair in school a warm fuzzy.
“Wouldn’t need to worry ‘bout you saying much if I was throat-deep with cock.” A pause. “… Much less m’self…” And then she hummed, letting the smoke hang from her mouth. The night vision remained on and she put away her pack and her lighter, enjoying the way her leather clad legs stretched out in front of her. The little screens she’d had up before were gone, leaving him with a normal view; at least, what constituted as a normal view for her.
As she exhaled a plume she pulled the cigarette away from her lips and considered the ‘demented Aphrodite’ comment. She scratched the back of her head. “Yours, am I?” She snorted, grinning as she moved to stand up and stretch further. He wasn’t the only one who could twist words. “Might expect some flowers for that label; them’s first date words.” She turned back towards the tube, the one he’d shut, and frowned. Her weapons were still there and if she let them sit too long they fall to the bottom—cut their own way down.
“Balls.”
A screen popped up again and code ran like its usual merry cascade as she shifted through the appropriate channels. Likely, she could have asked him to open it back up; however, she was used to doing things herself. When it snapped open she gave the weapons wireless instructions. The beams retracted as she held both hands over the edge, smoke in her mouth; a second later and they popped up into her grasp via complex magnetics in her gloves.
As she holstered them she listened to his next set of words, frowning as it became apparent that the tattoo question bordered on something personal. Rage wasn’t what you would call deeply emotional or serious; her reasons were… it wasn’t that she couldn’t be, she supposed... it was mostly easier to live life, long and as fucked up as it was, when you were more focused on letting lose and looking for your next adrenaline rushed high. It was easier to be happy when everyday was spent viewing the world as your own personal playground, amusement park, or oyster. If you did, you didn’t have to think about all the ugly parts, the parts you couldn’t fix, and the ones that reminded her too much of what life had been like for her not that long ago.
Rage found her hands digging unceremoniously into her duster pockets as her fag created a collection of ash; it eventually fell to the ground below her as the lid on the tube shut, as she blinked once out of memories she wasn’t sending him.
She cleared her throat as well when he was done and asked her something else, let the smoke fall after a finale inhale, and exhaled as she stomped it out. “Some people just like to watch the world burn, luv…” was the only really comfort she could give him, that she thought herself capable of offering in light of what he’d done for her—not leaving her in the death trap stuck in her memories.
At the mention of a treasure hunt though, she perked right up. “Feel lots o’ things. Depends on the prize.” She grinned, unable to keep the expression out of her voice as the file popped up on her end. “Pressie?” she asked as she went about breaking it apart. It was easier to cut through his encryptions now that she wasn’t trying to use them as a distraction while she multitasked getting free. And while she didn’t like remaining in one place for too long, private or not, she wanted to break his little puzzle apart before she got a move on.
The rainbow of cascading code finally stopped when she had it open, revealing first the video clip of him running his tongue over his fingers. She blinked once, shifting weight from one foot to the other, and tightened her hands into fists as something warm and wet pooled in her underwear. Was it a sin to have such a creative imagination? Or was it just Fate? Or maybe it had everything to do with the fact that he’d let her annoy the shit out of him for months and she couldn’t help but be like a cat with a critter that wouldn’t die—playing with it until she slept or it escaped.
“…Still not sure which is better, but ‘m getting a better idea at least.” And then she understood what he meant about treasure hunt. Once she dug her mind out of the gutter the numbers appeared before her eyes next.
“…You teasin’ me again, Code Slinger?” she paused and crossed her arms over her chest. "This isn't gonna lead me to a brothel, right?"
After he replayed her voice she smirked; it was an action done both because of his return comment and because she now knew he’d been recording her voice. Never mind that he could be recording it because he recorded everything; it still gave that part of her that felt like a little imp tugging on his hair in school a warm fuzzy.
“Wouldn’t need to worry ‘bout you saying much if I was throat-deep with cock.” A pause. “… Much less m’self…” And then she hummed, letting the smoke hang from her mouth. The night vision remained on and she put away her pack and her lighter, enjoying the way her leather clad legs stretched out in front of her. The little screens she’d had up before were gone, leaving him with a normal view; at least, what constituted as a normal view for her.
As she exhaled a plume she pulled the cigarette away from her lips and considered the ‘demented Aphrodite’ comment. She scratched the back of her head. “Yours, am I?” She snorted, grinning as she moved to stand up and stretch further. He wasn’t the only one who could twist words. “Might expect some flowers for that label; them’s first date words.” She turned back towards the tube, the one he’d shut, and frowned. Her weapons were still there and if she let them sit too long they fall to the bottom—cut their own way down.
“Balls.”
A screen popped up again and code ran like its usual merry cascade as she shifted through the appropriate channels. Likely, she could have asked him to open it back up; however, she was used to doing things herself. When it snapped open she gave the weapons wireless instructions. The beams retracted as she held both hands over the edge, smoke in her mouth; a second later and they popped up into her grasp via complex magnetics in her gloves.
As she holstered them she listened to his next set of words, frowning as it became apparent that the tattoo question bordered on something personal. Rage wasn’t what you would call deeply emotional or serious; her reasons were… it wasn’t that she couldn’t be, she supposed... it was mostly easier to live life, long and as fucked up as it was, when you were more focused on letting lose and looking for your next adrenaline rushed high. It was easier to be happy when everyday was spent viewing the world as your own personal playground, amusement park, or oyster. If you did, you didn’t have to think about all the ugly parts, the parts you couldn’t fix, and the ones that reminded her too much of what life had been like for her not that long ago.
Rage found her hands digging unceremoniously into her duster pockets as her fag created a collection of ash; it eventually fell to the ground below her as the lid on the tube shut, as she blinked once out of memories she wasn’t sending him.
She cleared her throat as well when he was done and asked her something else, let the smoke fall after a finale inhale, and exhaled as she stomped it out. “Some people just like to watch the world burn, luv…” was the only really comfort she could give him, that she thought herself capable of offering in light of what he’d done for her—not leaving her in the death trap stuck in her memories.
At the mention of a treasure hunt though, she perked right up. “Feel lots o’ things. Depends on the prize.” She grinned, unable to keep the expression out of her voice as the file popped up on her end. “Pressie?” she asked as she went about breaking it apart. It was easier to cut through his encryptions now that she wasn’t trying to use them as a distraction while she multitasked getting free. And while she didn’t like remaining in one place for too long, private or not, she wanted to break his little puzzle apart before she got a move on.
The rainbow of cascading code finally stopped when she had it open, revealing first the video clip of him running his tongue over his fingers. She blinked once, shifting weight from one foot to the other, and tightened her hands into fists as something warm and wet pooled in her underwear. Was it a sin to have such a creative imagination? Or was it just Fate? Or maybe it had everything to do with the fact that he’d let her annoy the shit out of him for months and she couldn’t help but be like a cat with a critter that wouldn’t die—playing with it until she slept or it escaped.
“…Still not sure which is better, but ‘m getting a better idea at least.” And then she understood what he meant about treasure hunt. Once she dug her mind out of the gutter the numbers appeared before her eyes next.
“…You teasin’ me again, Code Slinger?” she paused and crossed her arms over her chest. "This isn't gonna lead me to a brothel, right?"
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
The following 1 user Likes Blade's post: Tindome
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