headlocked | mikishin shenanigans

[blade got his script this morning. as usual it's lacking in detail: blade has no patience for excessive briefing, and scripts being vague is the standard anyway. so here he is, in a bar at 21:00 system hours, knowing he will be leaving that bar at 21:42 system hours with a partner for this mission, when a tall (but shorter than him) drink of water slides onto the stool at his side.]

Evenin', handsome.

Edited 2024-06-26 20:06 (UTC)

[The script doesn't say who exactly his partner his, just when they leave, and a description of (actually deadly) and (is some sort of war god) (Blade did not read the entire script actually) so he just kind of

Ignores

the person next to him.]

[Randy is the son of the war god, but those are details blade would have missed really easily, and a minimal distinction outside of the mercenary sphere anyway. his reputation is scary enough without being his dad.

laughs and orders them each a drink.]

Not interested.

[He's no stranger to being picked up, and usually they're morons who take his resting bitch face as a challenge, and,]

Are you old enough to drink?

Damn, are my youthful looks that impressive?

[but fine, sliding blade's drink toward himself too.]

You think very highly of yourself.

[?????? what kind of flirting is this??? ?]

What business do you have with me?

A little kitty gave me a tip.

[sips]

[Once again Elio has betrayed him. There was no reason the little fucker would not have seen the 'vibes' of this guy.]

[INHALES!!!]

Randolph Orlando?

You can call me Randy.

[cheerfully drinking some more.]

"Blade", was it?

[their mission, overall, is to destabilize a tyrannical hierarchy over a key planet for the script the Hunters follow. how Randy factors in, well... (is actually deadly) (some kind of war god) (read your scripts Bladie).]

[This sign won't stop me because I can't read. He stares at Randy for a little bit longer than polite, before opening his mouth:]

How good are you with one?

[Ominous portents!]

Literally? I ain't half bad.

[looks at him sidelong.]

Can't say I've tried with such a pretty metaphor.

[Blade, with his corpse face, manages to look confused and incredulous at the same time.]

You are wasting time and your breath.

[Long pause.] Try faster. The coronation is in eight system hours.

Oh, don't worry. I'll get a handle on you real quick.

[You know what. He is going to slide off his stool, and reach out to try and fist a hand at the back of Randy's shirt, to drag him off with him.]

[laughs and visibly lets it happen, digging his heels in just long enough to slap some of the local currency on the bar and wave the bartender a cheeky goodbye. as he is dragged off.]

[Being literally a man on a mission, Blade hauls him off until they get outside of the bar, straight into the seedy alley it was sequestered in.

He stops, lets Randy go, and appears to realize hmm. Maybe they should have talked strategy inside instead of out in the open. Whatever.]

I assume you are well-versed in penetrating defenses.

[straightening just long enough to lean against a grimy wall.]

You betcha. Sneaky-like or bombastic? Combo?

Hm.

[Passerby don't really give them a glance, but he walks to stand out of the way, anyway, closer to one of the walls plastered with rotting posters.]

There is no break in guard shifts; they are all overlapping. The palace walls are four standard metres of reinforced steel. Rooftop is heavily guarded. Only one way in. One way out.

It's cute when they remember the walls themselves are an access point if they ain't careful. Inconvenient, though.

[humming thoughtfully.]

Sounds like trying for a diversion would only make 'em hunker down harder. Better to get in and out, fast as possible.

[not bothering to acknowledge the bodycount, there. they know.]

[He stares at Randy again. This apparently is the way Blade thinks about things: while staring sightlessly at random shit.]

All royal guests invited to gathering after the coronation can acquire safe passage. I heard that before you arrived.

[The small problem here was that obviously neither of them were invited.]

Oh? You coulda asked me on a date while we were inside.

Why would I.

[It dawns on him. Randy earns himself a withering look and - very quickly, Blade reaches out to tug him close by an elbow, to slam him against the wall he'd been leaning against, caging Randy against it.

This is to hide both of their faces from the guards trudging down their backwater alley. He has no time or interest in explaining, so he just does it.]

[Randy swallows a stunned little laugh in favor of leaning juuust slightly closer, hooking a knee behind one of Blade's and his arms around his neck, so it's near impossible for the guards to tell they aren't kissing.]

[Whoa wait what's happening. Blade runs very, very warm, on account of the mara, and he is also very good at roleplaying sentient furniture, so he's a very good accessory in the dank, dark alleys.

However,]

I can't see shit.

Shh. I can.

[randy is also Warm And Solid, but it's nice to be the small one for once. leaning into him eagerly, even as those sea green eyes peer subtly past blade.]

[He freezes at the contact, but relaxes once he realizes Randy is looking beyond him.]

There is another set coming. [He dips his head, annoyed.] The patrols have been doubled.

mikishin shenanigans

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