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Bond lyrics for cut text will be used forever more

WHO: James Bond and Sally Jupiter
WHERE: Outside the MAC and onwards from there...
WHEN: 7ish, after this
WARNINGS: Idek, but it's Bond.
SUMMARY: Sally likes the charmers, Bond likes the pretty ladies. Dinner is clearly need.
FORMAT: Whatevs, para on first post, then whichever.

Bond gets to the MAC building in plenty of time, just on the off chance that Sally had been incredibly early herself. It even gives him a chance to go inside while he's waiting and spy around, get a feel for the building, check out the layout, and all the other important things he may one day need to know. By the time he's exiting to wait outdoors once more, he's idly adjusting his tie on some overly expensive and well-tailored black suit. He's only been here a couple of days, but he's already got a good place to stay, a wardrobe full, and now ladies to dine with. Naturally.

It's not like he even minds waiting, because when he's outside like this, he can casually lean while doing his favourite hobby: people watching. It truly is amazing what you find out from people just by watching them for hours on end.

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Sally had hurried to get ready. She had been on patrol, and basically ran into the apartment to put on something nice (a pretty yellow dress should do the trick), and to freshen up her make-up and perfume. She didn't want to meet up with such a charming man looking like shit.

The cab pulls up to the MAC, and Sally exits, putting on a elegant jacket. She tells the driver to wait for a few minutes, and walks up the the entrance. She spots him waiting where he said he'll be: outside, in a rather fancy suit. Sally absentmindedly fixes her hair (which was down, for once) and earrings as she approaches him, taking in his overall appearance. The video on the comms did no justice, he was a handsome man. With a handsome accent. And to top it all off there was a rugged air to him, which made her weak in the knees.

Sally smiles, feeling like a silly little school girl as she holds out her hand to shake his. "Well, it's certainly a pleasure seeing you in the flesh, Mr. Sterling."

James is only mildly distracted by what he can only take to be a pick-pocket strolling by and peering in bags- charming- and he's almost, oh so close to saying something when he considers his new suit. It'd do no good to ruin that, or be late for this.

So when the cab arrives, Sally has his full attention. And what a lot of attention it is, what with bright blue eyes locked on her every move as she approaches, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The hand she offers up is taken, but rather than shake it, he lifts it lightly, bowing his head to press a kiss to the back of her hand.

"Please, call me James. James Bond." His cover has already been blown. There's no point in keeping with it.

Her smiled became brighter as he kissed her hand, her heart growing giddier by the minute. She drinks in his gaze, and is rather pleased to see that chivalry did not die during this decade. The rise of female empowerment was...well, empowering, but Sally craved male adoration and attention.

Lucky for James, the novels were written a year into the future where she was from. To her, whether his real name was Sterling or Bond made no difference, but there was a certain ring to James Bond.

"Already using the secret identities, are you now, James?" She kept her hand in his, still drinking in his appearance. Unlike James, Sally never had to hide her identity...just her last name.

"Well Mr. Bond, shall we get going? I'm sure you'll love the restaurant. And hopefully I can make your...transition into the City enjoyable. Wouldn't want you feelin' like a fish outta water."

Edited 2010-01-13 01:05 (UTC)

Women never failed to intrigue Bond, whether they be dainty little things to hang off his arm, or pure blood warriors that could give him a run for his money in a fist fight. He was like a moth to the flame the second his eyes were caught on any good looking female. They're his weak spot, and damn does he know it.

And Sally was a most certainly a woman, strong, slender, and something all too classic about her. He doubts he'll regret this evening, no matter the eventual result.

"You never can be too careful over these networks," he comments with an amused eyebrow arch as she comments on the identity.

But anyway, they had more pressing matters. Like dinner! Which is far more important and something he's happy to get to, offering her an arm as she mentions going. "I'm yours for the night. Take me where you deem suitable."

"Well, I'm not big on secret identities, but I guess I can't blame you. The 'porter doesn't always bring in the most pleasant of people."

Sally doesn't hesitate, taking up his arm as soon as he offers it. She was in no way deprived of male contact during her stay in the City; she got a lot of that, more-so then when she was at home with a husband who loathed to touch her ever since he found out about that summer day he wasn't around to 'watch her'. But she definitely craved the touch of a man. And with John in the clink, there was no way she could pass this up.

It was just a friendly thing, after all.

She leads him to the cab, frowing ever so slightly at the rising price of the meter as she opened the door and slid in, as skillfully as a woman could in a dress without exposing anything. But she didn't let her distaste show. She could afford it, she was actually starting to gain a little bit of the salary she was used to.

She replaces it with a smile though, and instructs the driver to take them to the restaurant. It was some French name, pretty swanky. She had been there with Tony at one point. It was the kind of place that had cursive on the menus and live music playing in the background.

As the cab heads over to the restaurant, Sally decides to start up a chat to continue in the restaurant. "So, if you were introducing yourself as your secret identity over the comms, I'm assumin' you aren't a...what's it called...an exporter?"

James isn't too good on the 'just friends' side of thing. 'Just friends' to him generally only counts as a woman he's possibly only slept with once or twice, yet still has vague contact with. And even that's rare for him, considering how much he tends to move from one place to another, which hasn't changed since he was in the Navy from an early age, but back then it was port to port, rather than mission to mission.

Still, it's lucky this Bond knows when no means no, unlike some of his earlier counter-parts, and he will behave himself if he must, so for now this is dinner and only that.

Once in the cab, he takes his own vague glance at the meter, at the driver, at the license plate before they got in- The important little details- before his attention is solely back on Sally. "Something like that. Though what I do doesn't matter anymore. Not in a place like this. ... You're a policewoman, you said?"

Good thing that this Bond was not like his earlier counter-parts, because Lord knows Sally doesn't want something like that to happen to her ever again.

She notices him quickly surveying the cab, but to her this behavior was not abnormal. Many of her fellow Minutemen paid close attention to detail about the little things. Hollis, being a man of law before becoming a vigilante, said it was a habit to analyze everything. But there were others she knew that never bothered with the small details and instead took a liking to just rushing into the skullbashing, not bothering with the details or just not caring.

It takes Sally a moment to register what he was saying, she was too busy eyeballing him to hear. That, and she still wasn't used to being referred to as a "policewoman".

"Here I am, yes. But I'll always be a vigilante first. Being on the force is a cozy job, though, and I've always admired the boys in blue for all the hard work they do."

She pauses, the smile never leaving her face for a second. "So they don't have the kind of job you used to do around here? Then how on earth did you afford such a spiffy lookin' suit?"

Attention to detail was important to James, not just because of his job, but because it was pure habit by now. There was something far more reassuring about life when you knew your surroundings, and even when he rushed into things, his mind could still analyze and process points around him at a surprisingly quick rate. For the fact he's often little more than a well paid thug, Bond is a lot smarter than you'd think for.

He listens to Sally with an expression of extreme interest, learning long ago it pays to act interested in whatever a lady has to say, but they seriously so ask too many questions sometimes. "Not exactly. I believe I'd have to move back to Britain for any success in such a job search," he replies, considering the money inquiry for a moment. "As for affording what I do... I was owed a few favours. I work fast around here." Or he just steals and swindles stuff, but he won't be telling someone of the force about that.

"So, tell me more about being a vigilante. You seem keen on the subject."

The cab pulls up to the restaurant and whatever Sally was about to say was cut off. Good thing too, because the woman could talk for hours about her life as a vigilante, and lord knows that would be so boring to some people. Well, most people.

"Oh I am keen, but I wouldn't want to talk your ear off, James," she says, chuckling as she pulls out a wallet from her jacket and gives the money to the cab driver, not bothering with the change. She tugs on the door to let herself out, looking over at James. "I'll tell ya about it when we're inside."

Bond doesn't so much mind if she rambles about such a subject, he's gained quite a talent over the years of looking interested at whatever conversation goes on, while totally switching off upstairs and thinking of something else entirely. Not exactly the most gentlemanly thing to ever come from him, but James' suave act is generally just that. An act.

"Please do. You've got me curious," he replies as they climb out the cab, James just about to retrieve his own wallet before he catches her paying for the fare. Never mind then, he'll foot the bill for the food and the return fare home. The least he can do for now is offer his arm to her again, and make sure he holds the door at the restaurant. Ladies first and all that.

Once again, Sally's flattered at his suave gestures, taking his arm and allowing him to hold the door open for her when they approached the entrance. Compared to the outside, the inside of the restaurant was a comfortable temperature, and Sally began to unbotton her coat as she approaches the matradee. As said, the place was rather fancy, and from the looks of it there was no way that the meal would be inexpensive. But Sally was willing to sacrifice mostly anything for the sake of a good first impression.

This man seemed so proper, of course she'd have to go on the fancier side of things. Honestly, Sally would have been happy in a run down bar, with a creepy-looking bartender and dirty-looking glasses full of hard liquor. But Sally wanted to come across as a lady with class, not someone who once received money for basically stripping down. Though burlesque was far classier than the strip shows they have now.

She gives the matradee her last name, and they are escorted to a table for two, somewhere close enough to the pianist so that they could hear the music, but far enough away so voices wouldn't have to be raised for conversation. Sally takes off her coat, looking at James as she sits down.

"So how's this for a tour, Mr. Bond?"

This was almost a little surreal for James. He's used to being the one making the arrangements, booking the tables and giving the (often fake) surname. Nevertheless, he liked a woman with initiative, and for this evening he was satisfied enough to be led around, observing if nothing else. Of course observing is exactly what he does, taking note of the decor, the staff, the tables they pass and-- he can't switch it off. Even when trying to enjoy a night out, he's still over-analysing ever little detail.

When they're shown to their table, he's removing his own knee-length coat, straightening off his cuffs as he takes a seat opposite, tempted to pull out her chair for her but really now, that's the waiters job.

"Charming," he comments in return, making an obvious move to look around him as if he hadn't already noticed the grand surroundings. "It's like being back home already."

A lie. But, a well meant one. It's odd, but like Sally, sometimes he's just as happy in a run down little bar. He didn't come from big money originally and has never quite respected those who did, but thanks to the people he tends to deal with in his job, Bond more than often has to take on the role of some high roller or another. Besides, he wouldn't take a lady to half the places he enjoys going to.

"You've certainly out done yourself, Miss Jupiter." And there's just a very quick, off hand order to for a bottle of Bollinger before they're left alone.

"Well, that's what I'm here for, to make this place as homey as possible for gentlemen such as yourself," Sally chuckles. Actually, that wasn't what Sally was here for, considering nobody knew the reason behind their being 'ported in. Sally was here for the same reason as everyone else: for that vague bullshit of being a hero in a city without a strong police force.

With the waiter gone and the two of them alone, Sally leans forward slightly, clasping her hands together. Her tongue had been itching, wanting to talk and gush about her life as a vigilante, but she held back. It wasn't that she was embarrassed about her life as a crime fighting, in fact it was the total opposite. Those were the best damn years of her life, give or take a few happenings. But she was well aware that some people didn't want to listen to her entire life story (even though she did edit it, for obvious reasons).

"So, you're still interested in hearin' about my vigilante career? Though I would certainly not mind it if you talked about what you did, Mr. Bond. Back at home, that is."

Bond's leaning forward onto the table, elbows perched on the edge of it as he leans just enough to seem interested without getting too much in her face. Add that to the fact he's raising an eyebrow in curiosity while smiling politely, and you've got one very interested looking male.

It's all pleasantries though. Bond being Bond- the massive prick that he is- generally has absolutely no interest in hearing about peoples life stories, or even what they have to say about themselves. He doesn't care and certainly doesn't understand the need for ever talking about oneself, just because he never ever does. His present is a secret and always will be. His history remains history and doesn't get dug up if he can help it. And his future... well, that's pretty bleak, considering the life expectancy of agents like him.

But this... at least this was about vigilantes. He might even be able to dig up some useful information about the way things work around here from a talk like this.

"No, no, I have little of interest to add. Now please, tell me all about it. I want all the details." The little bastard manages to sound so genuine too.

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Bond lyrics for cut text will be used forever more

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oh yeah hi here's a tag pffffft. i apologize~

no need to apologise!