Participants:
| Scene Title | Not The Mochi |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Three friends have a chat on a rooftop. |
| Date | June 9, 2019 |
Outside of the Tokyo Restricted Zone
When Monica picked a place for them to stay outside of Tokyo, she picked the most out of the way place she could find. For privacy, for Eve's sake, for being able to come out on the roof and actually see the stars.
Monica sits on the roof, a bottle of sake next to her and half gone, looking out into the dark. She used to live on rooftops, once upon a time, and they're still where she goes when she needs a moment. Tonight she needed to let the mask drop and relax for at least a little while. She didn't want the others to see her when she isn't on.
She hasn't cried over her arm yet. Or Jiba. She wasn't planning to ever let herself do so. But tonight she couldn't hold it back any longer.
A rustling can be heard behind Monica and were she to look her brown eyes would find the too pale form that is Eve, dressed in a lightweight black robe. She's holding a fresh bottle of sake, she had seen Monica leave earlier but while Eve is a meddling and hovers she knows at times to hang back. Now, she's figured that her friend has had enough time alone. She's barefoot, she likes it that way. Feels more grounded even though… they are on the roof right now. Something about feeling the floor between your toes, Eve wiggles them in greeting but unless Monica is looking down she wouldn't see them.
"You know, this view is nice but that rooftop view at the old tenement building was stellar." Their time together during PARIAH was what had laid the foundation of their friendship.Eve often looked back on that time, maybe some would say it's because she was so use to looking towards the future that back always seemed a little more appealing, no matter how painful those memories could be.
"Why you cry my sweet Moni?" Eve settles next to the other woman and unscrews the sake, raising to the sky, "Merde." Is not a traditional toast but the former seer knocks the sake back anyway. Closing her eyes to savor the taste, her cannabis vape pen comes out next. Sliding out from her bra, those crimson eyes fall over the tiny device, inspecting it for damages before she takes a pull. Tapping her fingers on the edge, a spark of red lightning winks into existence on her arm.
Monica doesn't look, at first. When she hears the rustling behind her, she takes a moment to wipe at her face and start to shore herself up again. The darkness might hide some things, but up close, it's hard to miss her puffy eyes.
"Different rooftop, but still planning to start trouble," she says, lifting her drink in a toast before she takes a gulp. Looking outside of her current moment— forward or backward— isn't always the most comfortable for Monica. But for Eve, there's always an exception. "It's what we're best at." Always has been, always will be. Definitely is right here in this moment.
When Eve brings up the very thing Monica was hoping to bypass, she lets out a heavy sigh. She holds a hand out, motioning for the weed. She's not doing this with a clear head. Maybe can't do this with a clear head.
Obviously, being away in a foreign country leads to rooftop brooding for more than just one member of the impromptu Boom group. Luther needs some air, or so he thinks. That, and a place to drink the ridiculously priced bottle of rare Japanese whisky held in his meaty hand. His retreat already holds two, though, and the utter lack of stealth he's approached the roof with is sure to go noticed.
"Evening, Ladies," rumbles Luther evenly. He casts a glance down to his prize in hand, then back up to the women. Why the hell not. He shuffles his way closer, eventually to find a spot to plop himself down with no such grace. If he’s noticed the weed, he doesn’t bother to comment on its presence. If he’s noticed Monica’s teary eyes, he also does not comment on it. Not yet.
"Oh yes partake my friend," Eve readily shoves the herb into Monica's accepting hands. Times like these call for such things. Before they can go further the Lion of the group appears and Eve brightens up a tad at the sight of the beard and wiggles her fingers not dancing over because she wants to stay rooted for Moni.
"Hot Hands halllllo, our Moni cry. Lending ears, she can unburden herself. Smoke with us!" Waving him over, she makes to scoot over to make room for him while there is already plenty of room but she's closer to Moni now. "You know you would have done so well with us in PARIAH," a casual thought added to a heavy moment.
Monica is halfway through some efforts to hide the fact that she's been crying from Luther when Eve outs her. She replies with a long sigh and a draw on Eve's weed. One of the many benefits of having her come into the country in an unorthodox manner.
"He would really would have," she says, as far as their PARIAH time. Since Luther is a bomb. "But it wasn't exactly laying low." Which is kinda what the man was doing while they were off being evo terrorists.
She needs a few minutes before she can get around to anything real. The urge to push any concern away with a joke is a hard one to ignore. But, after a long, smoke-filled silence, she speaks. "Asi and Marlowe are working on a new arm. For me," she says, as if they need clarification. "One I won't have to kill anyone for."
And really, she hasn't quite processed that.
One of those warmer-than-normal hands scratches at the beard Luther has been cultivating over the course of the past weeks. It's a look reminiscent of older days. Warring days and days older than the war. So is the man's overall state, hunching at the shoulders, legs folded up so his long arms droop over the knees. He's smaller this way, an old habit revived to accomodate the general compactness of this country.
"Think I ate something funny," he makes for an excuse of his rough expression.
But then, belatedly, he comes to react to the pair. Monica's outed and he looks over, angled brows wrinkling together with the news of the arm. "Yeah?" he says mildly, casting a glance over to Eve. Did she know already? Eve always knows things. Then, back to Monica. "That's good on them." The look from Luther lingers on the missing limb's space.
And then it dawns on him, again sluggishly late. "How're they going to stick it back on?" On display, the ever practical, albeit short-term mindset of Luther Bellamy. A frown starts its way over his grizzled features.
Frowning over at Luther, "Maybe the Mochi,I told you to slow down!" When in truth Luther told Eve to slow down. "Oooo! Tech Witches have come to the aid of our ninja." Eve claps her hands and leans forward, this was less depressing than Monica crying. This was something to celebrate, clearly! Good thing Monica was puffing the weed.
"Toke up lady! New arm who dis?" The whole killing people thing, Eve knows it can be a burden on people's minds… their memories. She doesn't want Moni to have to be that way, PARIAH was a necessity. Something she tells herself to be okay with all the messed up things they did to get here.
"How do you feel? About no more killy just to have what is rightfully yours." Making Monica work in that way for a limb felt like slavery to the pale Italian and she was happy she was free of this. Luther gets a exasperated sigh, "Luth, we are in the age of technology and gifts. Intersection of the two, you worked for a tech firm!" Eve wrinkles her nose a little. Everyone knows her thoughts on tech and science but for Monica this was the only way. Unless…
No no that would be too foolish.
"We will find a way okay?" Tilting her head to the left and peering over into Luther's eyes. "How else do you propose?"
"It wasn't rightfully mine, Eve. It was technically always theirs." Monica shakes her head, looking over between the two of them. "What they're doing, it's a lot. More than I could ever repay them for. I don't want to get my hopes up, just in case. I can live without an arm, but I don't know if I could take it if I was expecting one and didn't end up getting it." Her fingers brush over what's left of her cybernetics, now so much decoration on her shoulder stump.
Luther's question is the all important one. The how. Monica lets out a desperate sounding laugh. "They'll stick it back on," she says, "during a surgery." She doesn't offer details there, but she stiffens at the memory of the two she's been through so far. They were the worst pain she's experienced in a life that's been filled with it. "I might ask Richard if we can use his facility for that." Because using Yamagato is not on the table. Not for her.
"Pointless to worry about it now, though," she says, mostly to try to convince herself. Because this is all that's on her mind now.
"Not the mochi," Luther gruffly rumbles back at Eve, denying the possibility of dastardly characteristics for such delicious desserts. Maybe he ate several more than he should have though. Either way he washes it down with a drink out of the bottle in his hands, swallowing it away along with the man's worry and concerns being echoed back by Monica's demeanor.
The woman's humorless, desperate laugh earns a long, pained stare. "That's a bullshit offer isn't it? Put together an arm but leave it up to you to figure out how to stick it on." The mention of Richard causes Luther's nose and brow to wrinkle and he turns away, sucking in a long breath. "Maybe you should," he agrees on that thought. "He owes you one, after Alaska, right?"
That's Luther's conclusion until a stray thought hits him like a smack upside the head. "Wait. Waiiit. No. Don't ask 'im. More 'n likely he'll get his brother to oversee it and next thing you know, bam! Robot spiders comin' out your arm parts." He shakes his head. That wouldn't do at all.
"Oh Hot Hands, they're trying to help." Eve leans over against the man and pushes with her weight. "We can get a place, maybe we can speak to the government. We are "unofficially" working with them. Maybe they will help! How can we do our business if we- well Moni I know you're completely capable one armed but they can think you need it and it will help our operations! Boom!"
Eve rambles as she usually does, long winded but heartfelt. This time she leans over into Monica and closes her eyes, "It's okay to hope. Never not do that." The former seer hums and looks up to the sky. "If it's meant to be it will, the River doesn't tell me what it use too but that's fine. I know it in my heart. You are meant to have it,"
There's a moment inside that Eve feels, she will ensure this goes off if that's Monica's hearts desire. "Or we can hold up a hospital on the way home and do it there! Bangbang." Holding is a faux pistol formed by her pale hand.
While Eve tries reason, Monica just stares at Luther for a long moment. And then she grabs the bottle out of his hand and throws it off the roof.
"What the hell is wrong with you? You're being an ass," she says as she pushes herself up to her feet. "Everything out of your mouth is so messed up, I can't even deal with you right now. We'll talk when you're sober." She passes the pipe back to Eve, letting out a heavy sigh before she turns to go climb down off the roof.
Eve can feel the disgruntled rumble ripple through the man's whole body. The 'mochi' is disturbed - has been practically since he stepped off the plane. Luther's grip on the bottle is notably weak as he brings it up to drink from, and the glass yanks out easily from his loose fingers.
Somewhere down and away, the tinkling crash of glass shattering sounds the end of the liquid binge.
Luther's reaction boils into a sludgey response of confusion, sprinkled with anger and baked-in guilt. "The fuck was that for?!" He stares up at Monica, blinking several times as he tries to focus on something she's said about it and fails. Aside from the fact that he's being an ass. And she's right about him not being sober.
As she heads off to climb down, he frowns, gaze turning down, then to Eve for a moment. Then Luther shakes his head, huffing, and turns away silently. "I'm not cleanin' up that glass," he grumbles under his breath. That's a lie and the former janitor knows it.