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xp_logsWho: Manuel de la Rocha, Sarah Morlocke
Where: Smoker'sGhettoPorch.
When: Wednesday, March 31st, early afternoon
What Happens: They smoke, they chat, they cut a deal.
---
Manuel is on the front porch, huddled into a very thick black hooded sweatshirt, with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looks cold, but for the sake of his Lord and Master Nicotine he's braving certain death by exposure to get his fix.
From the looks of things Sarah's been training recently, still sweaty hair pulled back and a torn and slightly bloody t-shirt is just visible under her half-zipped sweatshirt. She pulls her cigarettes out of her pocket, settling down on one of the front steps. Only after she's lit up her cigarette does she look over at Manuel. "Hi."
Manuel looks over at Sarah from the depths of his hood. "Hola." he says in badly-accented English. "Aren't you cold?" he asks.
She shrugs, cigarette held between two bony fingers as she talks. "It's something I've gotten used to. Besides, I didn't feel like going up to steal Shinobi's coat."
Manuel ahs, as if facts are colliding into answers inside of his brain. "You're Shinobi's woman! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you right away. I am Manuel de la Rocha." he says, extending his hand towards Sarah. "Pleasure to finally meet you. He's really very fond of you, you know. Bright golden happies."
Sarah shifts her cigarette to her other hand, and very slowly holds her hand out to shake his. "Careful," she warns, "Don't cut yourself. And it's "Sarah". Only he can call me his woman and not get a maiming for it." An amused smile forms on her face. "Golden is it?"
Manuel shakes Sarah's hand firmly, managing to not exsanguinate on the bone-shards of her hand. "Sorry! I'll try to remember that for next time. And yes - as far as I can tell. My empathic vision isn't as good as it used to be. But he's very, very happy. You should be proud."
And hearing that makes her happy too. She takes another drag from her cigarette, slowly breathing the smoke out in a satisfied sort of manner. "I am."
Manuel stares again at Sarah, as if envisioning her altogether in the raw. But he sees satisfied with what he sees, so he takes another long pull off of his smoke. "Is it always so cold here?" he asks.
His stare doesn't go unnoticed, but Sarah chooses to ignore it. "Not always. I think we're all hoping spring will hurry the hell up."
Manuel nods in agreement with that sentiment - either that or a particularly violent set of shivers. He fishes another smoke out of his pack, but when he tries to thumb his lighter to life all it does is sputter at him mockingly. ~Crap.~ he says in Castillian. "Got a light?" he asks Sarah.
Sarah nods, pulling her lighter from her sweatshirt pocket and handing it up to him. "Hate it when that happens."
Manuel thumbs the lighter to life, and then lights his cigarette. He then smiles at Sarah as he hands the lighter back. "Thanks. And I guess I need to order another case of lighters - I think that was my last one."
"Remind us the next time we go out, and I'm sure we can pick one up for you." The lighter is tucked safely back into her pocket, as she flicks ashes onto the ground by her feet.
Manuel shrugs at that. "I was just going to order them online and have them shipped. But if you'd rather go get them yourself, I won't stop you. I'm not permitted to leave the Mansion - this is the closest I can come."
"That sounds familiar," she says dryly, smirking, "I've been here for nearly a year now, and I've been under house arrest no less than three times."
Manuel quirks both his eyebrows. "Wow. Who'd you piss off?" he asks with some amusement. "Me, I can't handle my power too well, and people got bent out of shape when I tried to defend myself."
"The better question would be who I haven't pissed off." Taking a drag off of her cigarette, she looks as if she's actually considering the answer. "I got into a fight the first time. He was asked to leave, and I got told to keep my sorry ass inside the house. The second time was when I helped kidnap Betsy for her surgery, and the third was for the vodka party on New Years." She doesn't sound particularly sorry about any of them.
“Doesn't sound very nice." he comments around puffs of smoke. "Hey, do you know of anyone here who can regrow lost muscle mass and strengthen tendons? Working out the old-fashioned way takes too long."
"Every one of them was worth it," she says simply, and then gives him an amused grin. "Not last I checked."
~Fucking hell.~ he says feelingly in Castillian. "You look like a fighter. You any good with blades, and if you are, are you willing to help me get back into shape?" he asks.
"What kind of blades are we talking about? I don't know anything about swords or whatever you use, but the bones act like knives most times, and I've been fighting with them for ages." And then she smirks. "It also depends on if you're willing to get your ass kicked the first couple of times."
Manuel smirks at that. "If I were unblocked..." he says, then lets the statement drop. "I prefer rapier and dagger, but I'll try anything. I'm not getting very far working by myself, and most of the other students are too scared of me and what I represent to aid. And the big blue one whose name I can never remember is too busy, and he's a doctor anyway, so that's no good."
Sarah reaches inside her shirt around her shoulder to pull out a bone before it rips her sweatshirt. "Yeah, I can help." She keeps the bone held firmly in her hand, wiping the trickle of blood on her fingers onto her sweatpants. "I'm always up for sparring."
Manuel's eyes go slightly wide at the sight of the bloody bone. "That's ... unusual. And handy." he comments, after a long pause. "I am massively out of shape - the asylum destroyed my form. My fencing maestro would be so disappointed in me, it's not funny."
"I'm just full of surprises." Unfortunately there aren't any trees within throwing distance, or she'd show him just how accurate her aim was. She shrugs, and takes one last drag from her cigarette. "And I'm always training. Are you sure you want me to help?" There's a little grin peeking at the corners of her mouth.
"I can tell you're looking forward to kicking my scrawny ass up and down the gym. If it will get me into shape and back into form so I can skewer the purple girl and the Jap, then I'm all for it." he says.
"Well, if you insist," she laughs, putting her cigarette out in the ashtray/sand bucket. "I wouldn't take it personally though. Sunday, Marie and I beat the hell out of each other for nearly two hours. I'm an equal opportunity ass-kicker."
“I don't take things personally unless I sense malicious intent." he says, completely oblivious to the subtext of what he just said. "I'm fragile, remember. And I -hate- doctors. All I want is a workout and help stretching for now."
"Okay, so no blood." She sounds vaguely disappointed.
"Sorry." he says. "de la Rocha blood isn't for you to spill." he says without a trace of irony or self-mocking.
She shrugs, slowly standing up and stretching, several joints popping loudly. "I guess I can deal with that." She shoves her hands in her sweatshirt pockets, and leans back slightly against the railing. "When's a good time?"
"I'm kind of busy today - come find me sometime tomorrow. I should have time for you then." He then looks at the bracelet on his wrist, then checks the other wrist - the one with the watch on it. "Break time's over, I'm afraid." he sighs heavily. "Gotta go back to work. Nice talking to you, Sarah."
Sarah nods. "Sure thing. I'll be around."
Manuel flicks his butt towards the sand-bucket, missing by a country mile. Unconcerned, he heads back into the Mansion.
Rolling her eyes, Sarah picks up the cigarette butt from the ground and throws it into the bucket before heading back inside and back down to the basement.
Where: Smoker's
When: Wednesday, March 31st, early afternoon
What Happens: They smoke, they chat, they cut a deal.
---
Manuel is on the front porch, huddled into a very thick black hooded sweatshirt, with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looks cold, but for the sake of his Lord and Master Nicotine he's braving certain death by exposure to get his fix.
From the looks of things Sarah's been training recently, still sweaty hair pulled back and a torn and slightly bloody t-shirt is just visible under her half-zipped sweatshirt. She pulls her cigarettes out of her pocket, settling down on one of the front steps. Only after she's lit up her cigarette does she look over at Manuel. "Hi."
Manuel looks over at Sarah from the depths of his hood. "Hola." he says in badly-accented English. "Aren't you cold?" he asks.
She shrugs, cigarette held between two bony fingers as she talks. "It's something I've gotten used to. Besides, I didn't feel like going up to steal Shinobi's coat."
Manuel ahs, as if facts are colliding into answers inside of his brain. "You're Shinobi's woman! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you right away. I am Manuel de la Rocha." he says, extending his hand towards Sarah. "Pleasure to finally meet you. He's really very fond of you, you know. Bright golden happies."
Sarah shifts her cigarette to her other hand, and very slowly holds her hand out to shake his. "Careful," she warns, "Don't cut yourself. And it's "Sarah". Only he can call me his woman and not get a maiming for it." An amused smile forms on her face. "Golden is it?"
Manuel shakes Sarah's hand firmly, managing to not exsanguinate on the bone-shards of her hand. "Sorry! I'll try to remember that for next time. And yes - as far as I can tell. My empathic vision isn't as good as it used to be. But he's very, very happy. You should be proud."
And hearing that makes her happy too. She takes another drag from her cigarette, slowly breathing the smoke out in a satisfied sort of manner. "I am."
Manuel stares again at Sarah, as if envisioning her altogether in the raw. But he sees satisfied with what he sees, so he takes another long pull off of his smoke. "Is it always so cold here?" he asks.
His stare doesn't go unnoticed, but Sarah chooses to ignore it. "Not always. I think we're all hoping spring will hurry the hell up."
Manuel nods in agreement with that sentiment - either that or a particularly violent set of shivers. He fishes another smoke out of his pack, but when he tries to thumb his lighter to life all it does is sputter at him mockingly. ~Crap.~ he says in Castillian. "Got a light?" he asks Sarah.
Sarah nods, pulling her lighter from her sweatshirt pocket and handing it up to him. "Hate it when that happens."
Manuel thumbs the lighter to life, and then lights his cigarette. He then smiles at Sarah as he hands the lighter back. "Thanks. And I guess I need to order another case of lighters - I think that was my last one."
"Remind us the next time we go out, and I'm sure we can pick one up for you." The lighter is tucked safely back into her pocket, as she flicks ashes onto the ground by her feet.
Manuel shrugs at that. "I was just going to order them online and have them shipped. But if you'd rather go get them yourself, I won't stop you. I'm not permitted to leave the Mansion - this is the closest I can come."
"That sounds familiar," she says dryly, smirking, "I've been here for nearly a year now, and I've been under house arrest no less than three times."
Manuel quirks both his eyebrows. "Wow. Who'd you piss off?" he asks with some amusement. "Me, I can't handle my power too well, and people got bent out of shape when I tried to defend myself."
"The better question would be who I haven't pissed off." Taking a drag off of her cigarette, she looks as if she's actually considering the answer. "I got into a fight the first time. He was asked to leave, and I got told to keep my sorry ass inside the house. The second time was when I helped kidnap Betsy for her surgery, and the third was for the vodka party on New Years." She doesn't sound particularly sorry about any of them.
“Doesn't sound very nice." he comments around puffs of smoke. "Hey, do you know of anyone here who can regrow lost muscle mass and strengthen tendons? Working out the old-fashioned way takes too long."
"Every one of them was worth it," she says simply, and then gives him an amused grin. "Not last I checked."
~Fucking hell.~ he says feelingly in Castillian. "You look like a fighter. You any good with blades, and if you are, are you willing to help me get back into shape?" he asks.
"What kind of blades are we talking about? I don't know anything about swords or whatever you use, but the bones act like knives most times, and I've been fighting with them for ages." And then she smirks. "It also depends on if you're willing to get your ass kicked the first couple of times."
Manuel smirks at that. "If I were unblocked..." he says, then lets the statement drop. "I prefer rapier and dagger, but I'll try anything. I'm not getting very far working by myself, and most of the other students are too scared of me and what I represent to aid. And the big blue one whose name I can never remember is too busy, and he's a doctor anyway, so that's no good."
Sarah reaches inside her shirt around her shoulder to pull out a bone before it rips her sweatshirt. "Yeah, I can help." She keeps the bone held firmly in her hand, wiping the trickle of blood on her fingers onto her sweatpants. "I'm always up for sparring."
Manuel's eyes go slightly wide at the sight of the bloody bone. "That's ... unusual. And handy." he comments, after a long pause. "I am massively out of shape - the asylum destroyed my form. My fencing maestro would be so disappointed in me, it's not funny."
"I'm just full of surprises." Unfortunately there aren't any trees within throwing distance, or she'd show him just how accurate her aim was. She shrugs, and takes one last drag from her cigarette. "And I'm always training. Are you sure you want me to help?" There's a little grin peeking at the corners of her mouth.
"I can tell you're looking forward to kicking my scrawny ass up and down the gym. If it will get me into shape and back into form so I can skewer the purple girl and the Jap, then I'm all for it." he says.
"Well, if you insist," she laughs, putting her cigarette out in the ashtray/sand bucket. "I wouldn't take it personally though. Sunday, Marie and I beat the hell out of each other for nearly two hours. I'm an equal opportunity ass-kicker."
“I don't take things personally unless I sense malicious intent." he says, completely oblivious to the subtext of what he just said. "I'm fragile, remember. And I -hate- doctors. All I want is a workout and help stretching for now."
"Okay, so no blood." She sounds vaguely disappointed.
"Sorry." he says. "de la Rocha blood isn't for you to spill." he says without a trace of irony or self-mocking.
She shrugs, slowly standing up and stretching, several joints popping loudly. "I guess I can deal with that." She shoves her hands in her sweatshirt pockets, and leans back slightly against the railing. "When's a good time?"
"I'm kind of busy today - come find me sometime tomorrow. I should have time for you then." He then looks at the bracelet on his wrist, then checks the other wrist - the one with the watch on it. "Break time's over, I'm afraid." he sighs heavily. "Gotta go back to work. Nice talking to you, Sarah."
Sarah nods. "Sure thing. I'll be around."
Manuel flicks his butt towards the sand-bucket, missing by a country mile. Unconcerned, he heads back into the Mansion.
Rolling her eyes, Sarah picks up the cigarette butt from the ground and throws it into the bucket before heading back inside and back down to the basement.
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