Cıтч øf Bяøκeи Søυłš {ᶳᵉᵐᶤ⁻ᵃᵈᵛᵃᶰᶜᵉᵈ ʳᵒˡᵉᵖˡᵃʸ} discussion

This is a cheap restaurant in the Middle City Slums. It has basic foods (more of the fast-food quality), and it has decently nice seating. The staff do their best on their low funds. Sometimes, they don't have enough for the lights and heat.

Roleplay!

Draght met Lyria at their usually spot outside of the Resistance Facility after he'd showered and dressed. Once he met her there they ventured down the streets of the slums until they wandered by a nice enough looking small restaurant. They both silently agreed to enter and Draght looked around cautiously, a normal response by him due to his massive training and general distrust for the world at large. Draght followed her to a table and sat down across from her, glancing around once more before his gaze landed on her. He then gave her a small smile, a rare thing to many but over the months he'd gotten used to doing it around her. "I heard there's going to be an event happening sometimes soon, are you volunteering?" he asked, vaguely as well as using 'codes' so no Council member could eavesdrop an realize what they were talking about.

Draght looked at her and shook his head, "I'm not," he replied. It hadn't been his first choice to decline the offer to go but some advanced ranking soldiers had to stay behind to make sure nothing happened while everyone was gone. He didn't want to risk another captured of a safe house and have what happened to him happen to others. "I've decided to stay back and hold the fort."

Draght shrugged, "I'd rather you didn't but if you want to I won't stop you," he stated simple. He might be over worrying and stressing with the what ifs but otherwise he wasn't going to stop her from going if she really wanted to. Draght flicked his blue gaze to the waiter. Draght grunted in reply and relayed his order of a ham sandwich with some coffee.

((Happy, would you mind saying at the top of your first post that you're coming from The Underground Facility?))

((That works. It'd be the first time I think they'd have seen each other in person since you-know-what, right?))

((Kay))

Draght nodded, "okay, make sure you're careful, and remember what I taught you," he stated. He had confidence in her, but he'd get someone he knew that was going on the mission to look out for her anyway, just in case. It was better to have someone watching your back anyway. He paused then, not sure what to talk about, despite them going out for months, he still wasn't a good conversationalist, frankly he was okay with just listening to her talk all day.

Draght nodded, "good," he murmured, though he knew is sleep would be plagued with more nightmares than usually tonight for sure. Guess it came with being who he was. Draght finally leaned back in his seat gaze wandering around the room while he waited for their food, unsure what else to say.

Draght shifted his gaze back to Lyria and thought about them but ended up shrugging, "everyone has their own talents, but being put under pressure might just ruin them," he said, "we'll just have to see, I believe some will be very useful," he answered.

Draght nodded with a hum and glanced at the waiter when he arrived. He shook his head, "I'm good, Lyria?" he murmured, looking at her. He didn't touch the food or drink though, a habit he knew she'd noticed months before when they first began eating together was he refused to indulge in anything first, waited till everyone had a bit of something before he began to eat.

Once Lyria began to eat, Draght grasped his sandwich and bit into it. He knew his habit was odd, some may think it's due to paranoia or something though he never bothered correcting them. It was something his father always did, said it was polite to let everyone else eat and make sure everything was okay before indulging yourself. Draght wasn't one to share things, from his past he just learned to keep everything in. He sometimes wished he could share more with Lyria but it was something he never thought twice about until afterwards but by then it was too late to even bother.

Draght ate without words, just kept silent besides the chewing. He swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, having been really hungry and sipped his coffee. He leaned back in his seat, gazing around carefully around the place once more before looking back at Lyria just in time to see her shudder. His brows furrowed, wondering what had caused that. He wasn't sure if she expected him to ask her what was bothering her or if he should wait until she was comfortable to talk to him about it.

Draght hummed and nodded, "I'm sure it was," he said, though it was hard to tell if he was being serious or not, "should we head back to the gym?" he asked, saying gym to represent training. He could tell she was avoiding something specifically the reason for that shivering. He didn't bring it up though, waving for the waiter and quickly paid the check before he got up and held out a hand for her.

((It's completely fine, I understand. Hope you did well!))

Draght intertwined their fingers together, an action showing how much he cares for her and walked side by side with her out of the restaurant. He always found himself enjoying the time he spent with her, even if they didn't say much it still was comfortable and he felt a little less alone in the world with her by his side. As he lead her back down the street, taking the longer more twisted route back to the Resistance meeting place just in case they were being tailed. He didn't mind the long walk, it just meant he was able to have her by his side and holding her hand for a longer period of time.

Going to the Underground Facility

Coming from Gavriil and Siersha's Flat

Gavriil entered the restaurant, once again holding the door for Siersha. It wasn't because he thought it was the "gentlemanly" thing to do -- Gavriil just liked being polite, regardless of who you were. He and Siersha had ended up settling on this place after discovering it was the least crowded of the rest of the establishments within not-unreasonable walking distance from their flat(where they'd been previously) and because both Gavriil and Siersha had a mutual like for fast food. Gavriil turned to Siersha, letting the door shut behind them. "Where would you like to sit?" He didn't have much of a preference since the people in the room were pretty evenly dispersed, but even if he did, Gav still would've asked Siersha's opinion first. He even had a pretty good guess of how she would respond; this wasn't their first time at the Light Moon's by a long shot.

Siersha smiled slightly. "Back corner." She loved back corners. She could watch everything easily that way with nothing behind her. She could protect Gavriil that much sooner. If someone so much looked at him funny, she could send a throwing knife their way. She had five easily accessible knives and two not-as-easily accessible ones. It was not overkill at all. What if she wanted to start an impromptu show? She adjusted her fedora slightly so it shaded her eyes a little more. She motioned for Gavriil to sit beside her instead of across from her. She knew he'd comply. She'd rather his back not be exposed especially as she knew there was no way he'd ever fight someone else halfway willingly.

Back corner? Of course. Gavriil also hadn't expected to sit in front of Siersha. He knew Siersha's thoughts on defense, and he wouldn't be surprised if she'd brought a couple of her knives with her. He sat where Siersha directed him, angling himself towards her. "Your eyes are beautiful," he said, tilting his head to the side and brushing back some of Siersha's hair behind her ears. "If I weren't gay, I might just become attracted to you," he remarked. Siersha would actually make a pretty attractive guy, Gavriil thought. Of course, for Gavriil, even considering being infatuated with Siersha was like doing the same for his sister (not that he knew her or that she even knew he existed, but that was beside the point).

Siersha rolled her eyes. "Well, thanks. I supose if I were to like anyone, it'd be you except the whole like a brother bit." There was an unspoken because you're the only person I trust and the only person I really care about. Maybe that should have been sad, but in her mind, that was perfect and everyone who said otherwise could fuck themself on a throwing star. She couldn't think of anything that would hurt more than that. The waiter walked up to them and smiled obnoxiously at her. She was pretty sure the gesture of the man was supposed to be flirting, Siersha raised an eyebrow and made sure her throwing knives were more than adequately visible.

((Would you mind putting something in your first post about whence they came? Thanks!))

((i just did (view spoiler)["" He and Siersha had ended up settling on this place after discovering it was the least crowded of the rest of the establishments within not-unreasonable walking distance from their flat(where they'd been previously) "" (hide spoiler)], let me know if i need to make it any more obvious.))

Gavriil turned his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. Their waiter wasn't bad-looking, and he acted like he knew it. However, he was putting those looks to use by openly flirting with Siersha. Definitely not a wise decision on his part. Gavriil glanced sideways at Siersha to make sure she wasn't planning on doing anything extreme just yet, and said (a little loudly), "What do you have for us to drink here, handsome?" He, too, smiled obnoxiously. If Siersha's display of weaponry didn't work, Gavriil's not-so-subtle and out of practice flirting might. Normally he would avoid interacting with anyone romantically, but Gavriil made exceptions where Siersha was concerned, regardless of how uncomfortable it made him.

((I meant in bold at the top of the post and aaying like "coming from Gavriil and Siersha's Flat"))

((got it.))

((You put it in your second post, not your first. =) Would you mind moving it please?))

Siersha gave him a look that clearly said he really did not have to do that for her. She could scare people off well with weapons, and if they didn't listen, a dagger send flying at whatever they're carrying often did the job she herself could not. She turned to the waiter. "Diet dihydrogen monoxide in the liquid state. No carbonation or lemon or solid or sugar or anything else." She said all this with a very straight face. She could scare people off with her order, too. She considered saying something along the lines of, if you find yourself incapable of that. . ., but she didn't. One look at Gavriil, and those scathing words died on her tongue. She couldn't say things like that around Gavriil without further provocation. She just . . . she couldn't. Gavriil was the only one who could make her stop. Only Gavriil. Maybe in the past, her mother or Nikora could have, but now, she had only Gavriil. That was not to say that if she felt he were insulted, she wouldn't fight the waiter. Actually, she'd do that before anyone could calm her down.

((i clearly haven't been paying attention to anything, apologies. i also just watched a really scarring movie where one of my gifs for Gavriil came on and i'm still recovering from the shock (that's why i haven't replied though i've been available for the past hour or so. next time i decide to watch a movie with my father i am going to check the ratings because i didn't expect any of what happened in that movie to happen.)))

Gavriil grinned. He wasn't sure what he found so entertaining about his zucchini using the chemical name for a substance when placing her order. "I'll have a water, too. Ice in mine, if you don't mind," said Gavriil. The waiter had stopped trying to flirt with Siersha, but Gavriil threw in an awkward wink for good measure, completely ignoring Siersha's look (though he felt bad for doing it). Gavriil had always been really terrible when it came to flirting, especially since he didn't want to make anyone else feel uncomfortable, and especially after Lance. Gavriil saw Siersha's moment of hesitation before deciding not to add something she'd (probably) regret. When the waiter, looking mildly confused, wrote something on his pad, Gavriil gave Siersha a questioning look. She might not have wanted to say it in the presence of polite company, but Gavriil wouldn't mind hearing it--as long as Siersha didn't mind sharing.

((What movie? What was in it?))

And there went Siersha's restraint, which had previously been preventing her saying something rude to the waiter. But the wink was it. No. Siersha was not thrilled with the waiter in the least. "And if it proves too complex for you, I'm sure I can find exactly what I mean and show it to you such that you don't forget." Nope, definitely not a threat. Definitely not threatening to hold his head under the water for a little -- just a little, not enough to drown the waiter. Gavriil should be proud of her. She wasn't threatening to use the waiter as target practice. Clearly she was being nice. She crossed her arms. When the waiter was out of sight and earshot, Siersha gave Gavriil an apologetic expression. "Sorry. I --" Of course, the words she could say were obvious, and she didn't regret the threat she gave the waiter, just that Gavriil had to hear. The calming effect Gavriil usually had on her died when he winked at the waiter. She couldn't help acting on that little burst of fury that she'd had then.

((The Architect. there was anal sex and like 3 people jumped off a roof and there was a lot of domestic abuse and it was just...i don't know. i was really uncomfortable.))

"No, it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry. I know if it weren't for me, well, what I...sorry. Shit. I -- sorry," Gavriil bit his lower lip almost hard enough for it to come completely off. He hadn't meant to hurt Siersha, hadn't meant for her to be angry. Siersha had no need to be sorry. It was one hundred percent Gavriil's fault for his terrible and illegitimate flirting, and Siersha -- of all people, Siersha -- had apologized. He was glad Siersha hadn't done worse than imply she'd drown the waiter, but the fact she had to say anything...why couldn't Gavriil had left well enough alone? "I was just...I...I'm sorry, Siersha. I was trying to help, and you had it handled, but I messed it up. You were fine, really." Gavriil smiled at Siersha, the kind of sort-of smile one offers in an awkward tense situation where you don't know what else to do except to offer that sort-of smile. Gavriil wasn't even really smiling either, he just had his lips pressed tightly together with the corners of his mouth upturned.

((Oh, lovely.))

Siersha stared at him a moment. "Don't apologize. You're the only person in the city I would consider monitoring my temper around. I probably would have sent one of my knives after him otherwise." The thing was that that really was no exaggeration. It was exactly the sort of thing she would do. she would probably have sent it after his hair because that went the furthest away from his body (it was an afro, so it wasn't really in danger of his head. Well, mostly). "So really, you saved him from a far worse fate." She patted his shoulder. "So, how was work then?" She was trying to change the topic before Gavriil had a chance to say any more self-depreciating comments. When it came down to it, she was pretty sure he was a better person than she. He didn't have a temper like hers, and he cared about everyone -- not just one person, not like she did. Yet he was the one with shit self-esteem. Siersha wished she could do more to help than just hang out around him, but she knew anything else she tried wouldn't help. She'd watched her dad and step-mother's failed solutions with Nikora to know exactly how ineffective that might have been.

((i just finished watching another sebastian stan movie, but this one was significantly more appropriate. cute, too.))

Gavriil had never been much for attention, and what Siersha was saying (despite how truthful he knew it to be) made him shrink in on himself. "Thanks. I'm glad you didn't." However strange it made him feel, Gavriil knew the proper response.

"Work was...work. I talked to someone nice who worked there that I don't see too much. Girl. Ace," said Gavriil, rushing the last few sentences so Siersha knew the person Gavriil had spoken with was nothing more than a coworker. "What about you? Anything notable aside from the television smashing?" he asked, unconsciously directing the conversation away from himself. Gavriil was so used to doing it around everyone that he hardly even noticed when it happened.

((That's fortunate))

Siersha would have laughed at how he felt the need to emphasize he wasn't interested in whatever person he'd met, but she knew it was entirely because she would leap violently to the wrong conclusions. Siersha was not known for logic, but she was known for her volatile temper. "Yeah, I figured out how to get my shit together and have a job that pays more than a few bucks for like five hours once a week." She rolled her eyes. She'd tried like literally once and now just was an extra eye on a telescope when her company needed it. "I did watch a lovely little documentary." The sarcasm dripped from her voice. "It sort of made me mad and bored and want to throw knives at things. And then I decided to learn how to throw machetes at things.
Very productive."

"Hey, at least you're okay. That's all that matters, right?" Gavriil said in an attempt to be comforting. "You can replace a television, but I think finding another Siersha would be impossible. They're pretty special." Gavriil picked at his fingernails underneath the table. He couldn't just give Siersha some cliche of a compliment, though. That would be beyond shitty. "I mean, people with uncanny knife-throwing ability and a temper the size of the city don't exactly grow on trees," he teased, if a bit shyly. He hoped it wasn't overstepping his bounds, mentioning Siersha's temper. The last thing Gavriil wanted to do was to hurt his zucchini's feelings.

"Yeah, probably a good thing, too. World can't handle too many of us." She paused for a second and grinned. "Also, only the size of the city?" She pouted. She wasn't a huge fan of her temper, or at the very least, the scared looks she'd sometimes gotten from her mother. She'd always kind of figured people'd like her if she weren't too awful with her temper. She'd stopped caring. What did she care what they think? And, well, Gavriil was her conscience. She felt like she was good around him. It was a good feeling, but it was one that she didn't have too often when not around him. He could moderate her temper by just being him. She didn't have that on her own. She just blew up and threw knives. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all herself (well, not really, and not recently), but she was kind of scared of her own temper.

Siersha grinning made Gavriil grin too -- he loved seeing her (or anyone, really) happy. "Only the size of the city," he repeated adamantly. Siersha may have been pouting externally, but Gavriil worried what she was really thinking. More nail-picking ensued.

The waiter came back with their drinks, considerably more wary of the pair of them than when he'd originally approached them. Gavriil shifted in his seat to get a better look at the waiter and became acutely aware of how many people had entered the diner during his conversation with Siersha. He was suddenly finding it more difficult to take full breaths. Dammit. It wasn't even that crowded when compared to what he usually saw while bartending, but something about feeling like he was caught in the middle of it instead of protected by an entire bar...Gavriil was just glad Siersha was at the end of the booth. That way Gavriil had something in between him and the rest of the diner. He fixed his gaze on the napkin dispenser towards the opposite end of the table from the waiter, slowly but surely beginning to breathe normally, and picked so vigorously at one of his nails he ripped at least a quarter of it clean off. "Shit," he muttered, wincing in pain. Not looking at the people was helping, and so was the throbbing in his finger and the knowledge that Siersha was next to him, so Gavriil tried focusing on that. Had the waiter asked about food? Gavriil hoped he wasn't weirding him or Siersha out. Double shit.

Siersha shrugged. She appreciated what Gavriil was trying to do, but she knew it was an attempt to make her feel better. She didn't believe that her temper was that bad. It wasn't like Gavriil knew some of the worst things she'd done. He didn't know what she'd done to Lance or the full story of how she'd gotten her knives. He might not say that then. She wasn't going to take his opinion as meaning much until he knew everything she'd done. She didn't want him to know the truth, though, because while it was a bit painful, it was nice to have someone who wasn't scared of her, who thought she had it in her to be a good person.

Siersha leaned her head on Gavriil's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down a bit. She knew instinctively that he was panicking, though whether she was just attuned to him or just knew when people were distressed was up for questioning. Siersha sent a curious look at him when he cursed, but he didn't appear to notice, so she resumed glaring warningly at everybody in the restaurant. The waiter asked if they wanted any food, so Siersha informed him that clearly they weren't ready to order yet, the unobservant idiot, but while he was asking, she wouldn't mind "would you kindly fuck off for a bit, thanks" for food.

Siersha's presence and the pulsing of his finger (and the whole not-actually-looking-out-of the-booth thing he was doing now) helped Gavriil regained his composure. This was, of course, just in time to hear Siersha's comment to their server.

"Siersha," he muttered half-heartedly, placing his hand gently over hers to let her know he was okay. "Sorry. I'll have, uh. Um. Ah -- just an order of fries. Please. What about you, Siersha?" Gavriil almost added something about how he wasn't sure her original order was on the menu so she'd need to reconsider it, but kept his eyes trained on a spot just over the waiter's shoulder.

Gavriil was sure the waiter noticed how he avoided eye contact, and hemust look so rude; there were so many people and he was making a fool of himself in front of all of them and maybe they should've stayed home and breathe, Gav, breathe, Siersha just threatened him with a knife, your lack of eye contact is probably fine, you're fine, it's okay, you're fine, just breathe for god's sake.

Siersha looked the waiter directly in the eyes. The poor man was trembling in fear of her. Siersha never knew how to feel when people did that. It made her feel powerful, yes, like she could do anything, protect anyone, but then her mother's terrified face always flashed before her eyes. It alienated her from everyone, and that always scared her. Gavriil was her only real anchor to the real world, the only person who still believed in her. "I'm definitely fine with the 'get the fuck away from us and send over a different waiter or waitress to bring his food.'" She smiled scathingly.

The waiter nodded quickly. Voice a squeak, he answered. "Yes, ma'am. I'll send over Kassi with the order." He moved to scurry away from their table.

Of course, Siersha was feeling particularly mean in that moment. "Actually, it isn't ma'am. I prefer 'mir.' You know, a gender neutral form's better, thanks." She smiled condescendingly at him and dipped her hat slightly.

((i started replying to this because it wasn't quite eleven so i figured i'd have time because i was done with homework but then i realized i wasn't actually done with homework but i've got this already typed up even if it's terrible and i guess i'll have to reply to other stuff later (hopefully soon)))

Gavriil wanted desperately to apologize -- not for Siersha per se, Gavriil would never apologize for something his friend had done -- but for how terrified the waiter looked in that moment. He recognized it wasn't his fault the waiter was quaking in his boots, but Gavriil felt the need to say something, anything to make the situation less awkward. However, he couldn't find it in himself to make any sort of comprehensible reply, so he continued staring at anything but the situation around him. Maybe (hopefully) the next server wouldn't grate on Siersha's nerves so much (or, more feasibly, was quicker and quieter). Maybe (hopefully) the previous server wouldn't hate Gavriil or Siersha for terrifying him when he was only trying to do his job.

Maybe. Hopefully.