test drive

[the_taxman]

The problem with the observation window is that it's a hallucination that isn't a hallucination, and the rest of the place looks like any old bar.

Rust has moved past the hand-tremor stage, helped a great deal by sitting with his back to the goddamn thing. You can assume he's already had the rules and first drink talk.

There's a black notebook with a binder clip on some of the pages lying closed in front of him. What would he write, anyway?

Comments

[blue_ajah]

Light glints from a jewel - something like blue topaz, perhaps - as she turns her head to search the room, seeking someone or something.

Her glance rests on him for a moment and remains. Dark eyes narrow slightly as she considers him.

[the_taxman]

There is a glass of water in front of him. (He wouldn't truck with vodka.) He's staring at the ice cubes in it, as though they're trying to tell him something important.

Absently one hand rises to touch his throat. He's checking his pulse, listening to his breathing.

[blue_ajah]

The Aes Sedai leaves her seat and glides smoothly across the room.

"Light illumine," she says, upon reaching his table.

[the_taxman]

Rust turns his head slowly.

That's some getup she's got on. India? Maybe? Something. He can't reach it. The information's gone, if it was ever there.

"It does tend to," he says, and turns the glass on the bartop.

[blue_ajah]

"So it would seem," she murmurs.

Without waiting for an invitation, she draws out a chair and seats herself.

"I do not believe that I have seen you here before."

[the_taxman]

He breathes out, taking his time. The silence extends.



Without moving: "Meaning you're a regular." Maybe she's a psychic, too. Or claims to be. "You keep the books? Shine the light on this place?"

Rust knows a thing or two about that.

[blue_ajah]

"Some might call me so," she agrees, tranquilly. "I myself might say that I have been known to be observant, from time to time."

She tilts her head slightly to one side, considering him.

"It depends, perhaps, on which books you mean. As for light - I am Aes Sedai. You may call me Moiraine."

[the_taxman]

"All right," says Rust.

He takes a long, slow sip of water. He breathes.

"What's that."

[blue_ajah]

"Many things to many people. Here in this place, at this time, what it means for you is that I have some skill at what others call magic, and that I am Oathbound to speak no word that is not true."

[not_lugosi]

Hmmm. This dour guy has cheekbones to die for. Bela can't help but notice these things.

"Penny for your thoughts," she says, walking over in an impeccable outfit and shoes, a dirty martini with extra olives in hand.

[the_taxman]

Rust gazes at her without any sign of interest.

Or... anything, really.

"They're not for sale," he says, quiet, neutral. "Ma'am."

[not_lugosi]

"Ma'am," she huffs. She's in a good mood, so she's not instantly put off.

"Fuck. I had no idea I looked that mature."

[the_taxman]

He reaches inside his jacket, removes a cigarette. Flicks his lighter.

"Just courtesy," Rust says as he exhales.

[not_lugosi]

She frowns. Is he stoned? He must be. Or something's terribly wrong.

His expression is familiar. Too familiar. She's seen a variation of it in her mirror on the bleakest of nights.

"You... all right?"

[the_taxman]

"Feel like I should be asking you that."

He reaches out, edges an ashtray closer.

[not_lugosi]

"I'm fine. I'm always fine."

She takes a gulp of the martini and then spears an olive and pops it into her mouth.

[the_taxman]

Rust nods a little, taps into the ashtray.

(It's not like he's blind. He's just... not wanting to try.)

[cutting_edgex23]

There is a girl, dark-haired, green-eyed, and dressed in casual black workout clothes approaching from the left.

She is careful to make noise.

(One might imagine combat boots help with that.)

"You are working?"

X would hate to interrupt. Probably.

And belatedly --

"Hello."

[the_taxman]

Rust turns his head slightly to the left, takes her in with a little side-eye.

"No," he says.

His gaze turns back to the glass. He takes another sip of water.

[cutting_edgex23]

"Oh."

That might be good. (Or it might not be.)

"Many people do. Here."

In case he worried. Or wondered.

[the_taxman]

With no feeling:

"You asking if I'm a prostitute?"

[cutting_edgex23]

"No."

X's response is prompt.

"You do not act like one."

He doesn't smell like one, either, to be fair.

"I have known many."

Living on the streets of New York City for a year helps with that a lot.

[the_taxman]

"Likewise," says Rust to the glass.

[cutting_edgex23]

X tilts her head, studying him carefully for a second.

"You like them?"

Beat.

"Prostitutes."

Some people are jerks about that.

Some people are johns.

(Some people are both, because hypocrisy.)

[the_taxman]

"Plenty are good at conversation."

Rust drinks.

"But that's like saying I buy 'em for the articles, isn't it."