capeandcowllogs | Drinks, and some other stuff

Drinks, and some other stuff

WHO: The Pro and James Bond
WHERE: Bond's apartment
WHEN: After the Pro returned to the City on Saturday.
WARNINGS: Cursing. Drinking. James Bond.
SUMMARY: Bond offers the Pro drinks and probably other stuff after she gets 'Ported back in.
FORMAT: Quick!

[The Pro changed into a new outfit, tossing the shitty costume in a corner as she did, then started off toward Bond's apartment.

It wasn't like her to do things for free, but. She wasn't hurting for cash in this place (thanks to super speed blowjobs), and he was James fucking Bond. That had to be something, right? That, and he provided the booze.

She landed outside the building and called up via the doorman.]

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[After their chat on the network, James had wasted little time in getting drinks and himself sorted, changing into a tailored dark grey suit and white shirt with a lack of a tie, the first few buttons on his shirt undone to give him a casual look.

The alcohol wasn't an issue considering the mini-bar he's got in the bachelor style modern apartment. So when he's aware of her arrival, he's there to answer the door immediately with an easy smile.]

Glad you could make it.

[Oh, Bond. Always so dapper. She smiles at him in response.]

Thanks for the offer. Today's already in the shitter. Good drinks and company're the only way to save it.

[He waves her in with a smooth flick of his wrist, shutting the door behind them both and taking a moment to watch her before heading over to the wooden bar against a wall of the studio apartment.]

If alcohol and good company can't fix it, then nothing can.

[Ah, the familiar bachelor pad. She shrugs out of her light jacket and slings it across the back of a chair, then follows him to the bar, putting an extra swing in her hips just for him.]

True that.

[The extra show is appreciated, it really is, and he's watching from his spot behind the bar, leaning on the polished surface.]

What can I get you?

[She leans on it from the other side, positioning herself in such a way to give him a nice eyeful of her chest.]

Something strong. Surprise me?

Alright...

[There's nothing subtle about the way he checks out that cleavage, not when she's presented herself quite so nicely. He leaves his gaze lingering for a moment before he moves to sort out glasses and cocktail shakers and bottles and whatever else needed. Within very little time he's serving up a drink that he slides over to her, clear liquid in a martini glass...]

Vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred. [God he hates that line, but the chicks seem to love it.]

[She just arches an eyebrow at the line, clearly not terribly impressed. Bit cheesy for him to be saying that, really, though she guesses other women just swoon over him for it.

The drink, however, is accepted and tasted. She salutes him with it before taking a healthy swig.]

[The eyebrow arch from her just brings a slight smile to his lips, because God, it's nice when his company isn't a screaming fangirl. He's fed up of those, even if they are easy lays.

He pours his own drink, just several fingers of scotch for now, and goes back to leaning on the bar.]

So, you returned home for a bit or...?

[The Pro was many things, but a screaming fangirl was absolutely not one of them.]

I'm dead back home. So I was dead again, and then I was brought back here in the same shitty costume I died in.

[Way to kill the mood, girl. But he had asked.]

Ah, well. That must have been relaxing for you. Little bit of eternal rest.

[Good job the subject of death doesn't upset Bond too much. He's far too experienced with it to worry about it.]

[Aaand that gets him the stinkeye for a minute, but she relents and takes another drink.]

Not exactly. More like I blinked and was suddenly somewhere else, with the costume I burned on my first day here last time.

[Have a small smile in return as he downs the rest of his drink.]

But you're back again now, so that's something to celebrate. Or detest. Depends on your outlook, I suppose.

[Follows suit with hers and sets the glass on the bar.]

I'd rather be alive, thanks.

Suppose that would be the general consensus.

[He's moving to mix up more drink, something new because he's almost fed up of vodka martinis thanks to this city.]

How long were you here for before you left last time?

[She'd be sick of them too, if people kept pushing them at her.]

A few months. I beat the shit outta some assholes who were roughing up the whores and strippers. And this one big fuckin jerkoff who tried to kill me.

Ah, so you didn't stay all that long before the porter took you out again.

I remember a few of your run ins with the unfavourable sorts of men. Good of you to stand up for the little people and all that.

The little people are my people, and whores always get the worst of everything. Of course I do something when I catch some asshole doing what he shouldn't.

[Flashes him a fierce smirk.]

You shoulda seen what I did do a guy back home. He'd been shorting girls, raping them in the backseat, or beating the shit out of them for months. When I found him after getting powers, I let all those girls have at him. With whatever they wanted.

[That little story brings a slow smirk to his lips. James may be a womaniser, but he knows when no means no and always acts the gentleman. Men who can't treat a woman right are just the sort he's happy to see die.]

Well done.

I wasn't intending to make 'little people' quite so derogatory. I simply meant that very few others give them the time of day. They need someone like you.

[And that's why she likes him, really. He may be an asshole, but he doesn't shit on the people who get shat on by just about everyone else.

And that got him a sardonic little smile.]

Someone like me, huh. Funny, I gave a speech back home to the 'heroes' about how the people needed someone who doesn't know shit about hope. Fits me, don't it?

Perhaps it does, but I wouldn't say that's necessarily a bad thing. Hope seems a little optimistic for my liking.

[He goes back to mixing them more drinks. Something nice and strong with plenty of vodka.]

[Oh, Bond. She loves how you just know what she wants.]

It really is too optimistic, isn't it? Idealism can only take you so far before shit blows up in your face.

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Drinks, and some other stuff

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Good morning :D

Zzzzz

<3?

:D

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