If You Show Me Your Sword


huruma_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif

Scene Title If You Show Me Your Sword
Synopsis After the party, Magnes returns to find Huruma with buzz enough to be both helpful and terribly brusque.
Date February 10, 2010

Old Lucy's

Old Lucy's has a vibrant and lively feel to it, from the dark wooden floors to the black and cream risque wallpapered walls lit up by neon lights and many times, the flashing of cameras from the oft-crowded floor. The mirror behind the bar reflects prices of various drinks, bottles lined up, as well as the entire saloon as seen from the bartenders; bolted-down stools line the other side, and there are loose tables and chairs placed all around, though many times they find themselves pushed back for more space within the center of the saloon. A few speakers are placed at strategic places and around a raised stage to the far corner from the bar.

Above the counter, an obviously well-used bar is hung; it is this that the girls working will use should there be dancing, which is one reason many patrons choose to come aside from the drinks. Across the bar and near the back, there is a door that leads to the back room and owner's office and a stairwell that leads the residence above the floor above the bar.

Having remembered that he still has a present back at Old Lucy's, after horribly striking out with picking up a girl, Magnes flies all the way back from his place and enters the bar. Things are winding down quite a bit, and it's pretty late by now, so he starts looking around for Huruma while unbuttoning his jacket.

She's not that hard to find; though sometimes if she finds a particularly dark corner it might take a moment to realize she is back there. This time, however, Huruma is still in plain sight. Given that things are getting quiet, the first stages of cleaning are taking place around the bar; a couple girls are gathering up the various glasses still on surfaces, occasionally stopping to talk to someone. The woman Magnes came back for is doing something with the cash box, seemingly into that. But she knew he'd be back.

"Huruma!" Magnes casually calls over, leaning on the counter directly across from her. "Sorry I left. I was starting to feel embarassed with that girl. Maybe I'm just not a casual, uh, relations kind of guy. And I am still getting over… ah hell I should stop using Claire as an excuse for every problem I have."

"I agree." Huruma's eyebrows tic upwards as she closes up the box, keys clicking in the noise of the bar. Her eyes stay down for the most part, only darting up when she is finished. "Keep trying. You were doing fairly well. Got a number, didn't you?"

"Hey, you're right, I did! But, I mean, what do I say when I call?" Magnes certainly has no idea, looking over at the back room curiously. If curiosity is an emotion, it's burning up in him right now.
It is. Huruma has no trouble feeling it, especially on someone like Magnes. It's like a fan blowing hot air. "Ask her if she wants t'go out. You know, on a date? It is not that hard, even I know that…" That's what people do. Huruma lifts her hand and gestures Magnes to follow her with a curl of her fingers; she is already making her way towards the door leading into the back.

Magnes is quickly following, more than anxious to see what she's gotten for him. "I guess I could try that. I'm just really trying to figure out what my strengths are, like why a girl would like me. Claire got me thinking about that when she was trying to figure it out. I don't know, you're a hot woman, if you were like, my age, or into younger guys, what do you think my strengths are?"

"You are younger than m'son, I wouldn't be," Huruma has those things to think about now- and frankly it is still weird for her. Magnes knows nothing about Madagascar, though, so a son should be news to him. "When I was your age I was busy wit'other things, but- strengths?" She leads him into the back room, where there is indeed a long black box sitting on the central table. "How big is your dick?"

Huruma moves to hoist up the box when she asks this, any physical attention diverted cleanly away, eyes on the box in her hands. It's obviously not what Magnes was expecting to hear- but Huruma does not seem to care.

"Uh…" Magnes has quite honestly not given that as much thought as most guys would, and looks down at his pants. The question hits him so hard he barely has a chance to register the part about a son his age. "I've never, like, measured. I guess it's about the size of a Comcast remote?" He holds his fingers up and spreads them out to show general length. "I'm not sure if that's big, I mean, I haven't exactly looked at other guys…"

It's big, because… gravity, or something.

For anyone else, this might be the most hilarious thing ever. Huruma treats it almost clinically, turning her head to peer at him when she assumes he is making a gesture at the back of her head. He does that. Her lips press firmly together for a moment, and her eyes graze over him, and quite unabashedly glance at his pants. "You guess? Do you need me t'check f'you?" She snorts once, but turns to extend the box for him.

"Most guys would'ave had th'answer down t'millimeters."

"But I mean, girls always say it's not important, and I never really thought about sex that much until I started dating Claire…" Magnes is looking down at his pants, then to the door, and finally up at her. For whatever reason, despite his awkward facial expression, he's pretty freakin' excited at the moment. "But um, is it a good size at least? And is that a strength? Do I really want a woman to like me for that?"

"It certainly does not detract. It's a good size." Huruma does finally laugh, though it is very restrained. "But if she only likes you f'that, not as good." She isn't very considerate of his state, technically- because she extends the box again to bump it against his chest. Does she have to put his hands on it for him?

"Ah, sorry." Magnes takes the box, then looks down at it, immediately starting to try and open it. "I'd have asked Delilah what she thought, but I didn't wanna seem, well, insecure or something." He shrugs, continuing to fiddle with the box.

"If it helps, that is above average." Huruma shifts to sit down on the arm of one of the recliners, one leg crossing over the other. "There were a great many things being thrown about afte'th'mission in Madagascar."

Inside the box is something that is very obviously a sword in its sheath; the semi-curved sheath is made of an ebony wood, as is the grip, while the hilt and metal caps are gold, with a vaguely Persian set of designs engraved.

Magnes sits the box down and carefully unsheathes the sword. He points it away from her and grabs the hilt with both hands, raising and swinging it down a few times in kendo movements. "I don't think kendo works with this, looks like I'll be learning a new style. I mean, I'm not exactly an expert, but Hiro made me do hundreds of kendo drills. I still do them with a pole."

"Take a good look at th'steel." Huruma comments from her single-seat peanut gallery. The metal is bright, and obviously strong steel; only the closer that it is inspected, the easier it is to see the fine, tooth-shapes and compacted whorls that signify Damascus steel.

"Kendo simply means swordfighting. If you've been taught wit'a katana-" And she is very familiar by now, with the katana. "You will be able t'use this. Single-edged blade, fairly long. It seems t'be some sort of cross between a shamsir and traditional scimitar, one of many things taken from th'palace. M'son did no'want most of what was there, f'posterity." So it was up to other people on the island to salvage from what was found.

eight is certainly not a problem with Magnes, but when it comes to training, he usually chooses not to make things easier with his ability. He raises and swings the sword down with one hand a few times, then slashes in a horizontal arc. "It's got really nice weight. It's consistent almost all the way through. I'm probably only noticing the subtle inconsistencies 'cause of my ability. Really good sword, I'm gonna practice a lot!" And he certainly means that, lifting the scabbard to sheathe the sword again. "Thanks a lot, Huruma. Between a Snuggie, the Art of War, and a sword, I can't help but think fate is trying to give me a hint."

"For what? B'coming a jedi?" Huruma asks this with all sincerity. "Arabs call tha'sword a saif, so if you were t'try an'find out more about it, someone from there will understand tha'term." Though she isn't betting that there are sword schools in the Arabic and Middle Eastern communities. As long as Magnes knows what he is swinging around.

"Well I've already mastered the force push, I even learned how to do it in a jungle! But, I don't think I'm meant to completely abandon the hero thing. I'm not gonna be stupid about it and go out in a mask, but I'm gonna find a way to help even while I'm going to school." Magnes hunches down and closes the case, then looks up at her with a raised eyebrow. Something just hit him. "How do you have a son older than me? Aren't you like, thirty?"

Huruma's eyebrows lift high on her forehead this time, one hand that had been knuckle-first against her jaw slipping slightly. "Thirty?" Seriously? That's …flattering, actually. But she doesn't say this, of course. "I am around twice as old as many of you an'your friends. My early years were a jumble." So technically she doesn't know exactly how old she is.

"Well, I mean, you're hot, so, I figured somewhere around thirty." Magnes' cheeks are red, keeping his gaze squarely on the box now… well, inbetween the box and the door. His emotions, of course, completely betray him. Excitement, embarassment, more excitement, and a serious fight or flight response going on. "Well it's getting late, so…"

"Go home an'play wit'your swords." Huruma motions at him, the 'shoo' coming off quite obviously.

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