Participants:
| Scene Title | New Familiar Faces |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | After what seems like a lifetime, a familiar face from Lola's original job in New York turns up. And…they get along. |
| Date | November 03, 2010 |
Shooters is packed. People are here, drinking away their troubles, drowning the worry about the dreaded day coming up in 6 days. November the 8th is a big day for alot of people. Alot of people believe in what is supposed to happen, alot have had visions as well. Alot of whiskey, vodka, and tequila is being passed around.
At the pool tables stands Ash, his large frame hunkered down over one as he lines up a shot, carefully applying power and direction, sinking yet another ball before rising with a smirk on his lips. The man he was playing against hands over a twenty, which Ash stuffs in his pocket, then pulls out a five and tells him to get himself a drink, which leaves no hard feelings, but still leaves him plus twenty dollars. He then walks over to the bar himself, calling for a beer from the barkeep.
Lola's path may have already changed - she can't tell. All she's waiting for is a call - a call to rescue John Logan, and to shoot an old friend. That sort of thing does usually herald drinking, particularly in a hot-headed cajun woman. And she knew she'd be back on Staten - or nearby - looking for old English, so she thought she may as well get her ghosts out of the way.
Still, she's hardly a woman to pass up a bit of fun. Dressed to blend, in jeans and an old t-shirt and a ball-cap, she approaches Ash from behind. She smiles, that smile of mischeif. An old friend, one she hasn't seen in ages. She never really knew where she and Ash stood - they hated each other, but seemed quite similar. So she approaches quietly in a loud bar to purr in his ear. "Rack 'em up, sugar. Ah'll show ya how the game oughta be played."
Ash lifts his beer to his lips, taking a long swallow if it, draining nearly half of the beverage before he sets it down with a heavy sigh. His head shakes and he smiles a little bit at something someone down the bar says. "Yeah well learn to shoot better and maybe you can win it back." He grins and then lifts his beer ,about to take another sip when a rather familiar voice sounds behind him. Ash turns hsi head, his eyes settling on… Lola. He cocks a brow rather high on his forhead.
"Now that's a face I've not seen in awhile." He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the man's eyes showing curiosity. He never hated Lola, he just disliked her stealing, he considered it dishonorable." He rolls his shoulders a little bit and tilts his head to the side some. "You'll show me how it's played? I'd imagine you would all things considered." He smirks and turns, lifting hsi beer to finish it in a big swallow.
Lola's face flashes lightly from mischevious to amused, as she steps past him to lean her forearms against the edge of the bar, her body against said arms. Almost like a little girl might. Still a little too mischevious. "Now here's the part where ya tell me ya missed me somethin' silly, Yank," She teases, seeming oddly comfortable in his presence. It's strange, but seeing an old face - even one who worked for a man trying to kill her - is comforting in some strange way. Especially since he isn't swearing or shooting at her yet. "How ya never stopped thinkin' a me an ya would sell her soul just ta have seen me again."
Ash rolls a shoulder as he puts his beer back down, empty, then looks over to the barkeep, motioning for another one, only to pause a little bit and glances to the woman next to him, a little sigh leaving the man's lips before he looks back once more to the barkeeper, motioning for a second beer.
Ash's eyes pull back around and settle once more on the little southern girl, his arms once again crossing over his chest. "Can't say I did. Never got to know you. Never saw you but once after that day at the fight with Adam." Ash doesn't know anything about Adam trying to kill Lola, but then, Adam was a nutjob. He cocks an eyebrow up, a skeptical look on his features at the little woman's words, a snort escaping him. The beers are brought, and he pushes one over to her, lifting his own to sip from it lightly. "What happened to you?"
Lola nods in thanks to the barkeep and to Ash for the bear, slinging herself up on the stool. She leans on her forearms, even as she lifts the bottle by it's neck and swings it idly between her fingers, before swinging it up to her lips. "Aw, sugar. Ya know how it goes. Life, Ah guess. Got shot a couple a times, Adam made sure ta leave me high as a kite - figureatively an literally - afore Ah skipped out. Got over that, though. Don' do much thievin' anymore, neither. A little here an there, just ta stay in practice, but," She shrugs, taking another swig of the beer. "What 'bout you, darlin? Where ya been keepin' that pretty face? An fer that matter, where's Her Majesty's big brother?" Adam, of course.
Ash doesn't seem surprised at the news of Adam's betrayel. "Adam was… not right in the head. Began to realize that towards the end of my time with him. Fucking mental. Sorry to hear he fucked you over. He was manipulating all of us, but well… that's what people do in this fucking world it's become apparent." He shakes hsi head and takes a swallow of his beer, lowering the bottle down, one arm across his stomach, the other using his elbow to keep himself propped up against the bar. "I've been shot, blown up, stabbed, shot some more… heh… been doing my part to say the least." The last is said softly, a slight smile offered.
"Thieving is dishonest work." he states again, a simple statement, his eyes moving about before settling once more on Lola. "Pretty?" he asks with a soft chuckle. "I've not seen Adam since I left. I wanted to do more to fight back, and he wouldn't have it, so… I left, started doing my own thing until I found others who wanted to fight back as well."
"Dishonest, maybe," Lola says, gesturing conversationally over to the man with her beer. "But where Ah come from sugar, work is work. Gettin' it an keepin' it, honest or otherwise, kin be pretty tough." She drains her beer again, almost half done. She always could drink like a sailor. "Sounds like ya've had one fucked time, darlin." And swear like one too.
"Goes that way, Ah guess. Though Ah don' much think ya'd like what mah new business is anymore'n mah old one. Don' know if it's real 'honest'." She grins, suddenly, mischief comin' back. "An ya wanna talk 'bout dishonest, dishonest is you actin' like ya don' know yer face is pretty. Ain' but a matter a fact." She shakes her head at him, what a silly boy.
Ash leaves an eyebrow lifted on his forhead at the maybe comment in regards to the dishonesty of theiving. The big man remains leaned against the bartop, standing next to the woman on her stool as he sips from his beer, slowly, not chugging it down, just sipping. "Can't say I agree. Work isn't work when it's stealing. Gotta earn what you make." He smiles, a sad sort of smile before he glances down into his bottle. "Yeah, one fucked time about covers it, sad part is it's all been willing and stuff. Been trying to make shit better for our kind." His voice is soft, quiet so others at the bar don't hear what he's talking about.
"And what is it you're doing now to earn yourself money?" he asks in a curious tone. The further mention of his face has him lifting his hand up, fingers running along the claw scars across his left cheek, then along the scar on his right cheek running right down across it. "I considered myself decently handsome at one point… but maybe that's faded with corruption of spirit and scars earned." He sighs lightly, then looks to the bar, lifting his beer up to drain it down his throat, then calls out to the bartender for a set of whiskey shots.
"Might just be me then," Lola says, wiggling her shoulders at him and wrinkling her nose in a cute sort of flirtatious way. "Ah did always like mah men a little dangerous. An Ah have always liked it rough. Maybe not as rough as gettin' shot an all but," She shrugs, slinging back her beer again and tilting it until it's gone. It is set on the bar with a soft thud, and she taps it, indicating that she'll take a second.
His question about her line of work earns a curious glance over at him. She'll watch him. Closely, to gagues his reaction. And she's armed as needed. "Ah ain' never been terribly worried bout 'our kind'. Figure somebody's kind's always' gettin' shit on. Just our turn fer awhile. They'll find somebody else. Hell, eventually we'll probably be joinin' in, doin' the shittin. As fer me?" She watches, ready to jump at a moment's notice. "Killin, sugar. Not a lot of it an never nobody what ain' goin' round threatenin' ta do bodily harm or worse, but killin' fer hire's killin' all the same."
Ash does look rather surprised at the open admitions in regards to intimate matters, not something he's used to talking about apparently. He looks slightly… off kilter at the direction the discussion took for a moment, hsi eyes flickering over Lola for a moment before going back to the bar as whiskey is set down. He lifts the shot glass up, and knocks back the whiskey, his mouth closing to let the vapors burn their way down his throat, savoring the taste of it. He licks his lips, then puts the shot glass down upside down before pushing the other shot to Lola with a finger.
"Killing… well, that's the business I've been as of late, but not for profit." He works his jaw a little bit. "Yeah well, I run around threatening to bodily harm and worse to people. You in the business of killing people who are fighting for freedoms?" He asks, his thick arms crossing once again over his chest, settling in as he leans his right hip in against the bar, his right leg crossing over the left, the boot tip resting against the floor.
Lola lifts the glass a little bit, shaking her head. "Naw, sugar." Her admission is gentle, knowing that the topic is probably a sensitive one to him. Perhaps not the killing part, but the part about killing people fighting for their freedoms. She throws it back like a pro, letting the glass linger against her lips for a moment as she allows the booze to settle. She can drink, no doubts there. The glass is turned over and set upside-down on the bar to mark a dead drink.
"Lessee here," she says, folding her hands under her chin, then tilting her cheek to set there so her dark eyes can watch Ash. "Couple a serial killers an a couple a mass-murderers' all Ah really got ta show fer mah efforts a late. Mostly do work fer people who Ah know ain' gonna fuck me. Money's part of it, but a big part of it is safety. What with what happened with Old English, and a couple a things followin' - well, safety to a girl kin mean an awful lot. Even more'n profit to a thief."
Ash works his tongue around in his mouth, then orders another beer before he pushes off from the bar and makes his way over towards the pool tables, the man bending down to scoop out the balls and the rack, tossing them all up on the table before he straightens up, lifting hsi beer to sip from it. "I could be considered both." He points out as he puts balls into the rack. Assuming that is, that she's followed him over to the pool table.
He finishes racking the balls up and grabs up a poolstick, and his beer, the man walking over and leaning against the table this time. "Safety does mean an awful lot. I can understand the safety thing. Not something I've had in awhile but… I understand the need for it. I thought I was safe for a little while, but well.. betrayel sucks."
"Well lucky for you, sugar, ya ain' pissed off anybody Ah know. Leastways, not anybody what Ah know what keeps me alive an what wants you dead. So near as Ah kin tell, yer a saint." She lifts her own beer and follows him, seting it on the edge of the table and leaning the palm of her hand there, watching him work. Hey, he's pretty!
"Truth be told Ah dunno what Ah would do even if Ah were safe. Probably just get in trouble again. Ah mean afore Ah went ta prison Ah was studyin' ta be a priestess. An after that Ah was a waitress an a thief an a casino gal." She lifts a cue from the wall, circling the table and Ash as though she were a lioness hunting something to slaughter and eat. "So what kinda stakes ya thinkin' of, doll?"
Ash twists his head, popping his neck as he pops the balls in and out of the rack, settling them into the proper order. He then lifts the little wooden triangle and puts it away before setting his cue on the side of the table to take a sip from his beer, licking his lips free of beer and looking about before his attention pulls back to Lola.
"Stakes? No idea. Betting money against you would be pointless. I'd lose it or you'd take it, maybe both. So… something else I think." He lifts a hand tapping his chin lightly, then lowers it and hooks his thumb into the belt loop on his hip. "Guess I'll let you come up with something then." he shrugs his shoulders, the white t-shirt strainging against them as they lift insteadl of the normal roll he does to shrug. "And I've pissed off plenty of people, probably only a matter of time before my name crosses your way. Question is… would you do it?" he asks it, an eyebrow lofted in curiosity, and a mischevious little grin on his lips as he picks up his cue and waits to hear an idea on stakes.
Lola cocks her head to the side, considering the man. "Last time Ah played a game like this Ah won a custom-made rifle. Question is what you've got that someone like me might want." She looks over him, then turns to look over the balls (the ones on the table, thank you!) curiously. "Hmm. Hmm-hmm-hmm. Well Ah could let ya keep buyin' me drinks all night. Ah think that sounds fair 'nuff. S'what Ah win, Ah guess. Ah win, ya keep me liquored up so long as Ah kin set mah ass on a stool." She says easily enough. "A whole night a nothin' but boozin'. An no shootin. Even if yer plannin' ta shoot me, if Ah win, ya gotta at least wait until Ah done drunk and sobered up." She walks around the table, and him again, reaching up to brush a fuzzy off his shoulder. "An fer you, sugar? Whatcha want from a lil thing like me?"
Ash glances to his side at the little cajun woman before a solid laugh escapes him. "Weapons I've got, in spades. If you wanted something like that I could offer that up easily." He smirks and looks back down at the table, though a curious look goes to her when she stands there and looks at him. He turns hsi eyes back on the pool table, circling around and setting the cue ball into place before he leans over the table, peering to make sure the ball is where it should be, then straightens again.
"If you win I end up putting out a hundred dollars or more…" he pauses a moment, and looks Lola over slowly before nodding his head. "Or more. Little things like you tend to drink way more than they should be able to." He smirks lightly, his lips curling at one corner. "And stay until you're sober, that's quite a stake missy." He watches the fuzzy get brushed away before he arches a brow, lips pursing for a few moments. "Hmmmm." He ponders things he could ask for before he flashes her a little smirk, the expression showing that he obviously doesn't think she'd go through on his stake. "A strip dance." He flashes her a broad grin. "Been awhile since I've been able to go to anything like that in the city. A little show would be nice." He's kidding, or at least, doesn't think she'll accept, but that's the wager he puts out htere.
He may be surprised. She grins wider. "Well watcha waitin' for then, sugar? Get ta breakin'" she urges, stepping around him. In a gentle swoop she lifts her beer gracefully, and at the same time settles onto a stool, one foot proped up on the lower bar. Her eyes dance wildly - if she were any more amused she might crack, right down the center of her face.
"Ah'm real curious ta see how well ya do. An fer yer information, Ah kin drink a lot more'n a hundred dollars. Ah'm from Louisianna, sugar, an ain' from the pretty side. People visit mah state just ta drink an nothin' else. It's a tourism business there, drinkin. An Ah'm a local." She smirks, tilting back her bottle.
Ash blinks, just once when the little thing grins like that and accepts the stake. His lips part to speak, only to close again, one cheek puffing up as he ponders how to get out of the bet, only to shrug his shoulders slightly. He's not going to win anyway, or at least, so he thinks. He steps over to the table, looking to Lola a few times as if not quite sure of himself now, only to grunt at the look in her eyes.
He leans in over the table, bending down to line up his shot. He draws the cue back, then pops it forwards, a loud crack sounding as balls scatter all over the table. Two balls sink, both solid and he nods hsi head, a two ball lead. "Oh, isn't that nice…" he reaches into his pocket and feels aorund a moment, pulling out several twenties, a fifty, and the fifteen. "Well, I've got 135, so that'll have to be your limit." He smirks at her, and then leans back in to take another shot, though he misses this one and steps back, motioning for her to take her turn.
Lola slides her tongue along the inside of her cheek to curb her laughter as she watches him. It's not that his shots are bad - he gets two, after all, and two is very good! But she does have to fight the urge to clear the table in a single stroke. Sighiging happily after a swig of beer she sets the glass bottle aside and pushes to her feet. This is her realm, baby, and she is The Queen.
Stepping around Ash again, she nudges him with the end of her cue. "Scuze me." She says, faux hoity-toity in her voice and a smirk on her lips. All she needs is a little step back before she bends over the table. The balls make sharp, crisp sounds as they smack solidly. She bounces one off the side into a corner pocket. Her next shot is weak, and it doesn't go very far or hard - she was just trying to tap it. The stripe ball sits in front of the oppostie corner pocket now, blocking the hole but not quite going in. "Hmm," she stands up to look over at Ash, trying to read his facial expression. "So what about you then, sugar? Whole world's endin' on the 8th, what did yer lottery ticket say ya'd be doin?" The dreams, of course, is what she's talking about.
Ash watches Lola move up to the table and bend down to take her shot, eyes following the little thief. His head tilts to the side, watching fo rwhere she's going to shoot,s eeing it just before it happens, watching the balls bounce about the table some. He lifts his beer, a long swallow downed before he lowers it, watching the balls ink and shaking his heda a little bit. The nudging with the pool cue though earned her skeptical look, but there was amusement in the big man's eyes.
He steps back, about to take a seat on the stool when he sees the miss. He looks suspicious of it, but doesn't say anything, instead remaining standing and walking back over to the table, eyes flickering to her, then back to the table. "World's ending and I've no fucking clue what is supposed to be happening. No one's bothered to share with me. I didn't have a vision…" He eyes down the length of the cue and takes a shot, sinking a solid, only for the cue ball to bounce and knock her stripe in, producing an irritated grunt from him. "But I imagine I'll be playing urban Rambo."
"Got any idea who you'll be shootin? Aww, thank ya sugar, ain' that just sweet of ya. Thinkin' Ah need yer help." She brushes past him to walk around the table agian, considering her next shot. She says that, of course, just to give him the space to say 'yes, I did that on purpose, just to help you out, little lady.' She can be polite!
"Ah done stocked up on supplies an rounds an a fake ID fer when they gotta rebuild the world come 'round Christmas Time. Figure Ah'll make it through - burnt an scarred and cut, but Ah usually make it through. Oh, Ah forgot about that." she points her cue at him. "Shot, shot, shot, electrocuted. Betcha ain' got that one in yer repotiore." She laughs and bends over the table, reaching far to knock in a ball. And then another, in which she uses one of his balls to nudge one of her own just so. Her third shot brings no balls to bear, but does put him in a somewhat difficult shooting position. "Spent more'n a month in the hospital fer that one, an don' really got any feelin' in mah left shoulder no more 'cause of it."
Ash grumbles under his breath at the fun poking from the little southern girl, his grumbling nonsensical for the most part, except for the spot where he mutters something about spunky women and their tendecy to poke fun at him. He watches he rmove around the table, watching her hands and her movements. He straightens up and turns, picking up his beer to finish it off with one more swallow, then turns back around and lets his eyes settle on her.
"Well, at least your face isn't all over wanted posters in police stations and shit. My ugly mug is more than a little wanted." He laughs a bit and then shrugs his shoulders. "I've been electrocuted, though it was rather minor. But if we want to start comparing scars…." He lets a grin spread across his lips as his arms fold over his chest once more, thick muscles standing out a bit along the limbs. The whole time he watches her. "Can't say I've lost feeling anywhere, but more than likely the feeling will return to you, the nerves are just damages and need to heal. If the nerves were dead you wouldn't be able to move that arm, so they're just damaged is all." He steps up, looking over the table before he sighs in irritation. "Little pain in the ass." he mutters as he circles around, trying to find a spot to shoot from. When he finds a shot he thinks he can make he leans down, the solid crack filling the air for a second as his ball careens around the table. The ball he was aiming for doesn't go in, but two of his do, and one of hers as well, which produces a few curse words as he heads to the bar, calling for another beer, then makes hsi way back.
"Hah," Lola lets out a little chirp of laughter, killing her own beer. "Ah'm envious a yer wanted posters, darlin. Ah'm wanted by an international mob boss. An they ain' held back by the law or nothin'," She steps past him, and leans over the table. One. Two. Three. She clears the balls - all her own - from all one position. It was as easy as flipping a switch - or pulling a trigger. "So watcha wanted for anyway? Ah mean ya done said ya were a serial killer and a mass murderer - which, by the by, Ah got a mass-murderin' buddy what might take offense to that. He gets all touchy when folks go callin' him a serial killer. So what's it ya actually done?" She nudges his ball, his last one, snug right up against the 8 ball, so they look like they're ready to be hung from the back of some douchebag's truck like a pair of novelty testicles. And she steps back to watch him, smirking all the while.
Ash glances over, then to the table, watching as balls sink into the holes, leaving him sitting there and sighing some. Yeah, there goes his money. He lifts a hand, fingers sliding back through his hair slowly, gripping it a moment before it falls to his side. "I'm wanted for a hell of alot." he moves to the table and leans down again, trying to line up a shot, his eyes looking to the balls, then to her, then to them again, a grunt from him. "Labeled as a terrorist now. Apparently fighting for freedom makes you a terrorist." He squints at the balls, then sighs and straightens, changing positions slightly. "I could be labeled a serial killer, because I only target government fucks, and people who attack myself and my comrades. I can be labeled a mass murder because well… technically I am. I have no idea what my body count is at this point, but it includes multiple members of Frontline, and God only knows how many members of the fucking INstitute. Not to mention a jet fighter." Yeah, the jet fighter comment is made with a bit of pride in his voice. "Took it out with a stinger missile." He fires off the cueball, watching it bounce, bounce, and then smack between the last solid and the 8 ball, his eyes following them as they careen around the table, his ball sinking, but the 8 ball spins, hanging on the edge of a pocket. "I've been a very busy boy since the last time you saw me." He watches the 8 ball, tottering on the edge, waiting to see if it falls in or settles in place.
And in that little black ball tumbles.
Lola blinks, her eyes going wide a bit. And then she turns to look at Ash with a little glare. Playful though it is, it is still a little glare. No, not about killing people, or being a terrorist. He beat her. Sure, she was toying with him like she might a bit of prey, but the prey has escaped because she was overcocky.
"Well Ah ain' never taken mah clothes off fer a terrorists afore, s'poze Ah oughta get that one scratched off mah bucket list soon nuff. Anyway there's somethin' in terrorism that's understandable. Lotta folks who are terrorists got a beef that ain' bein addressed." She sets her cue across the table and does a little curtsy for Ash. "Ah bow ta the victor. An…ya know. Whatever else folks what bow might say."
Ash blinks a bit too when the ball falls it, but there's no triumphant grin from him. He sets his pool cue down and turns hsi head and eyes upon Lola. "Glare at me all you want, you toyed with me through most of that. Underestimated me." he works his jaw a few moments, eyes on the floor before lifting back up. "You'd have won and we both know it. But, I've got a compromise. Instead of paying bar prices… liquor store, and then the place I was staying a couple weeks ago is still empty, I checked earlier. You can drink your fill there and pass the hell out without worrying." He winks at her, then lifts his new beer and drains it in a long chug, cold liquid stinging his throat a bit as it passes down. He puts the bottle down and walks to the bar to pay his tab, and hers before he walks back.
"Up to you whether you want to take me up on it or not. Not like the game was fair to begin with." He smirks, a knowing look in his eyes. "And I almost wonder if you didn't lose on purpose…" He arches a brow at her, challenging her to prove him wrong on his guess. His thumbs hook into his pockets before he walks over and picks up his big thick wool coat, and the hoody he's been wearing underneath it. He puts on the hoody, then hands over the wool coat, which will dwarf Lola immensely. He is somewhat chivalrous in social situations, just… not often he's in social situations with women.
Lola takes the coat, though not directly. She turns and allows him to place it over her shoulders. And indeed, it does dwarf her - and she smirks about it. "Sugar, somethin ya ought ta learn about me, Ah don' lose if Ah kin help it." She flicks his chest, hard as it may be, she flicks it all the same with her forefinger. She doesn't seem to mind about his idea, and instead seems to go with it. "So long as this place's got heat. Ah can' figure out how ya'll keep alive up here, what with as cold as it gets round in northern territories." Spoken like a true southerner, still bitter about the war. Her bare arm, her right one, slings in with Ash's arm if he is so willing to 'escort' her. "Pick any game an Ah'll whoop ya."
Ash eyes Lola for a few moments before he settles the coat around her shoulders. The thing is thick wool, warm, very warm. He mumbles something about stubborn women before he tucks hsi hands into the belly pocket of his hoody, only to look down as he gets flicked. "Did you just… flick me?" He asks, sounding more than a bit bewildered, forhead wrinkled in disbelief. His head shakes and he turns away to begin heading towards the door.
"It's got heat. And a few furnishings, though not a whole lot, also got some canned food left there." He walks towards the door, then opens it up and lets her precede him out the door, following behind her, only to get his arm caught up. "It's just across the street actually." he nods hsi head to the pawn shop, Tuck's, across the street, and makes his way through the snow covered street with her in tow.
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