Coffee To Go

"Coffee To Go"
Content: no sex, story only, kissing
Playtime: 3.5h


Fiver: The date arrives, eventually. Out on a corner, with cool air holding the city in it's grasp, a coffee shop sits nestled into the concrete jungle. People shuffle about, move from A to B, every one lost in their own responsibilities. It is cold out here - coats are tugged high, scarfs veil faces and necks, and hands are shoved in pockets. Few people stop or linger about; there is nothing here but the coffee shop. No subway station, no taxi row. Just a stretch of distance between two points.

Among the bustling crowd, one person defies all these descriptions. Wrapped in a thick, white coat that makes her look like a marshmallow man, with black gloves covering her fingers, a young woman with green hair stands before the coffee shop, and nurtures one of the paper cups. Another waits in her off-hand. Sometimes, she looks around.

~Slurp~

*Dustoff had to write down the date once she'd been cleared, medically, but she did. Her dream had been broken, though it was hardly a bad thing, being lucid for once. This period lasted longer, too. No meds, comparatively little booze... It was a pointed reminder of the Real. Out in the cold she stepped, the cab dropping her off curbside, bundled up, but not nearly to the degree of the puffy coated, time ignoring mint haired fae who'd been standing there with two cups of coffee. A heavy eyepatch/bandana drew some curious looks from the miniscule crowd, but none lingered too long, Dusty buttoning up her heavy coat and tugging her braid until it was wrapped around her like a scarf, speaking first, and carefully. "Been waiting long, insanity fairy?"

*Fiver slurps another swig. "Nah, just enough time to get us two coffees and enjoy the air for a moment. Here!" She holds one out and sets into motion. With light steps accompanied by the click-clack of her boots, Fiona makes her way down one of the sidewalks. With each step, the green hair bobs a little. "I like that name. Makes me sound all mystical. Hehe. " She looks over to Angie. "So, you came, as predicted. You also got out of Bolivia alive, as predicted after my intervention. Now, you probably have some questions, mhmm?" Slurp. This coffee won't last long. Below her puffy coat, the girl wears some measure of leggings that do little to hide her legs. Looks like they'd be cold, but the seams on the sides give a hint to the material's makeup. Some manner of thermal wear, surely.

*Dustoff didn't have nearly the level of grace in her stride, the girl's boots click-clacking where Dusty's own worn in, heavy treaded footwear THUD-ed with the grace of an elephant stampede. Popping the lid on her coffee she inspected the adjustments made, sniffing it cautiously. Lots of cream, and an obscene amount of sugar, just how Dusty liked. "You did your homework. Also, yes, I've got about a million questions and it's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey." She said, motioning for the green haired girl to take the lead, finishing her sentence with a slurp from her cup. "S'it safe to talk in the he middle of a crowd?"

*Fiver keeps walking, with a cheery smile. "Oh, totally safe - no one is going to believe a word we say, if they even listen. Which, arguably, few do. Count the headphones, the earmuffs, the pulled up hoodies. Nothing here is eternal. Ironically, it is places like these we have the hardest time monitoring. Makes it perfect for clandestine chitchats." She winks and nods to the coffee. "I'd be horrible at my job otherwise. But, hey - greetings, Angela. I'm Fiona." The girl holds out her hand. More metres of metropolitan moved past them, locked in casual conversation. "Let's start with the simple and most likely ones. Who am I? I am a case worker for an organization behind the scenes. Why am I here? I am evaluating you for recruitment. How, all this? That comes after you decide to sign up. So - any questions of your own?" She grins. It's sort of amicable, if a little too cheerful.

*Dustoff slurped again before she answered, drawing it out while the merc's brain put words to thoughts, her eye focused on Fiona, though occasional turns of her head betrayed looking at places where her exceptionally limited peripheral vision couldn't reach. "Angie." She said simply, the five letter shortening of her formal name more oddly fitting. The brunette's boots battered the pavement, coffee cup shifting to her blind side's hand. "You mentioned monitoring. How long has your group been watching me?" Came first, that one was obvious, Angie's breath fogging in the frigid city air. "Why me specifically, too, since we're at it. I'm not exactly office job material."

*Fiver dodges a few people and looks ahead, to where the river runs through the city. A stripe of darker grass, barely keeping the green color in the winter months, pads the waterway from the city proper. Just a few more hundred yards. "That... that is a good question, although one I cannot answer yet, fully. We've been watching you on and off since your birth, you could say. And why? Because you are a promising individual, with skills, and no attachments. Our line of work isn't all office work, either. You see, we need boots on the ground for some deployments, and you'd make a good match for the profile required. Oh, that, and I kiiiiind of really like you." There it is, out in the wild, bolstered by a smile that seemingly raised the temperature around them by a few degrees. "You've been wandering around aimlessly for a long time - and I'd like to give you a home. Something of an anchor."

*Dustoff stuttered her step, a split second of pause, but when you hopped timelines like a jump rope, a split second made worlds of difference. Both women knew that too well, after the Bolivia Incident. "... Since birth, huh?" She began, slurping her drink, looking over to the river, the one patch of natural beauty in an otherwise cold, gray place. "That include that time in senior year, with the head cheerleader after the game?" She asked, idle curiosity, really, seeing just how deep and long the mysterious watchers had worked. Continuing, she managed a lopsided half-smile at Fiona. "Knew it. You're just playing at getting into my panties, aren't you?" She asked, playful, going along with the impossible to ignore sunny smile laid upon the lass' lips. "... But I can hear ya out more. I suppose. Least I can do for Bolivia."

*Fiver empties her coffee and drops it into a garbage bin on the way to the river's promenade. "Hun, if I wanted just that, I'd've dressed up like Kelly Parker and the other girls, and you'd've had two to deal with. And while I admit that your flustered face is gorgeous, I'm not here for that. I meant what I said - I want you to come work for me, and say goodbye to a world that you don't believe in." She looks about, and when the lights turn green, crosses the street. "One thing is, you need help these people cannot render. Another thing is, you are good at what you do. And the third is, I need someone I can trust do execute tasks given. Someone that knows both worlds, that is. This one, and... and mine." She gives her a nudge. "You're probably already cluing in to things. I'm not exactly your average 9 to 5 spreadsheet jockey."

*Dustoff paused, not a half step, a full one. It was half a joke when she'd mentioned Kelly, but the casual way Fiona talked like she was there was too much to deny. Kelly was one of her lucid periods, brief as their fling was, and mentioning her name alone was enough. "... I'm interested." She finally finished, dropping her cup in the trash bin, picking up her walking pace to catch up with the vivacious viridian vixen. "So I'm a pick because I'm fucked in the head, have no friends, and I'm willing to be further fucked in the head? I better be getting paid more than God." She said as she caught up to keep pace, hands jammed firmly in her coat pockets, the press of the piece beneath a comforting sensation. "And what kind of help can you offer that he docs here can't? Everyone has been so generous pointing out I'm a lost cause waiting to go off the deep end... Is your group gonna wave a magic wand and make it all go away?" There wasn't venom in her words, but there was cynicism, the sound of a woman who'd been told every day of her adult life that she'd never be normal, and was tired of being offered temporary fixes, or changes that didn't come out of a pill that looked like it was made in baby's first hallucinogenic drug lab

*Fiver looks ahead and takes the little turn to get on the footpath through the green stripe - the waterside seems to be her goal for the little walk she leads Angela on. "You're a pick because I believe your skills will increase mission success rates. And because you can leave a life behind that you have little attachment to. Your... medical conditions is a known factor." Fiona pats herself down and produces a pack of mundane cigarettes, puts one between her lips and lights it up, with an entirely mundane lighter. Both pack and lighter, she holds out to Dusty. "Magic wand, among other things. Implants, biochemistry measuring and dispensers, therapy, and..." She blew up a waft of blue smoke. "... well. We don't just want to burn you out and replace. We aim to build you back up. Give you a life, and a purpose. Friends. A place you can always come back to."
[2018-03-23 15:35] *Dustoff followed, thuds turning to crisp crunches as frosted grass bent beneath her boots, Fiona's talk not quite going unheard. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that the spunky little thing had literally cheated death on her behalf, even the mentally malformed merc would have issues believing what she was being offered. "... Having a bolt hole that isn't covered in bugs and shit'd be nice." She conceded, unable to properly address the entirely serious mention of magic, filing it away as a bit of broken brain missing or warping words up to fit her landscape. "... How much am I in for... If I say I wanna join up? Years? Months? Money? "
[2018-03-23 15:42] *Fiver arrives at the guard rails of the water's edge, and after hiding her smokes again, leans onto them and looks up and down the slowly moving river. "Forever, or until you want to clock out. I've been doing this for a long time, and... I couldn't leave if anyone would pay me to. Not after Cuba in '62, Serpukov-15 in '83, or Pripyat in '86." She doesn't look a hair older than 25. "Payment is a funny question, but I understand it. After all, you do fight for money, because ideals are in short supply these days - we can assure you, with absolute certainty, that any item you wish for, we can deliver. Additionally, your gear is yours; within reason, to familiarize yourself with and go where ever you like." Another drag, another cloud of blue fog.

"Immortality, freedom and sustenance of body and mind. Those are our offers."

*Dustoff took some time to think. A long time, really. The pair stood by the guard rails, the cyclops and the fairy. A one eyed wolf, bristling with confusion and fear and anger under a calm exterior next to a girl so sunny she made the air warm around her. Angie would be lying if the prospect of basically full freedom, a bed, food, and hours at her determination for any length she wanted didn't sound pretty damn good. Her gear, her stuff, her choices. Fiona had laid out a feast, but like any abused animal, Angela was hesitant to step up and go nuzzle down to fill her belly. Her brain swam with what-ifs. Predator thoughts for a packless wolf, circling and waiting to sink their teeth in. It was her turn to dig into her coat, her turn to indulge her vice. Fiona heard metal brush across the zipper's teeth on the potential hire's coat. She saw the custom flask come out, engraved with something hidden by her gloved hands. And watched as Angie took a long, heavy pull from it. Wordlessly offering it to the mint haired girl, her eye focused solely upon Fiona's reaction, the drink contained within smelling so strongly that even at half a foot away she could tell it was strong stuff, probably better suited for removing paint than putting inside a body.

*Fiver makes some space for it - namely by clamping the smoke between two fingers. "Oh, yeah, you still drink that stuff. I've always wondered just why you went for Lonestar, but..." She shrugs and takes a hearty swig herself. Briefly, her eyes water up, and she blinks, but without any verbal complaint, Fiona hands the flask back. "-... that is something's that's gonna change, dear. Not cutting you off, but, you'll at least be more... picky." After returning the flask to its owner, Fiona pushes herself off the rails and stretches in the cold winter day. From the radiance of her smile, it might as well be spring already. "Don't get me wrong, Angie - it's either now or never. And I cannot give you the full details before we don't have you buttoned up. These recruitments are always plunges, which is why we look for people that make brash decisions, impulsive people. Go-getters. But if you cannot bring yourself to trust or believe my rambling, then pick something." She comes back in and rejoins Dusty at the guard rail. Closer this time. Their shoulders brush against one another. "Give me a task. I made you jump through hoops, throw some for me to dance through yourself."

*Dustoff took her flask. Fiona had time to read the engraving on it, which was done carefully... And entirely by hand. "For when the Dreams are Nightmares, Love, Dad" adorned it. An heirloom, then, and in spite of the swill within, one well cared for. Angie's profile hadn't mentioned the flask, but there it was, an anchor keeping her vision unfogged, for now. "Yeah, yeah... I've jumped into worse deals with uglier negotiators." She finally said, capping it, tucking it away, the flask clanking against the butt of her gun before she was bumped, smiling that lopsided smile once again. "A task, huh? Fine, but I don't give easy ones." She said, her monocular gaze softening, along with the edge in her voice. "Fix me." Fuck. Well, it was on the docket anyway, but still. The tone, the deflation of shoulders and flash of sorrow in her eye. She needed to hear it, and not formally, not with pretty words and talk of therapy. "Promise me you can fix me. Make me normal... Or at least feel normal, and I'm in."

*Fiver laughs, but, softly. One arm crawls over Angela's back and hooks into her side. "Babe, that's part of my deal already. What makes a person, mhmm? Their beliefs, their place in life, a purpose they can pursue, and the people they associate with. Values, personality - a perspective. Something to wake up for, something to come home to. I know you're busted up, cracked and in tatters. Half of the time, you walk through this madhouse and don't even think it is real. The other half, you fight your inner demons because they want to drag you back into the void. I know. I bet it sucks." She gives her a squeeze, as if to encourage the badass, steel-hardened merc. "Give me a task I don't already have on my block. Let me do some magic for you." Fiona leans her head onto Dusty's shoulder. "I am a fairy after all, right?"

*Dustoff went quiet, leaning into that touch. The warmth, the softness of the embrace. Her eye shut, her body relaxed, and Fiona felt the tension drain. A head laid atop hers, the pair looking for all the world like a couple just enjoying the view, when really, the warrior woman was just letting herself be, for once. "Fuck, I dunno. What task do I give to challenge a fairy, huh?" She finally said, voice a little more hoarse, throat sore for obvious but unspoken reasons. Her arm looped up and squeezed the girl, refusing to let go. "Kiss me, then. Make yourself more real than my brain is screaming about, my little Green Fairy."

*Fiver moves like molten metal, a fluid compromised of girl and warmth. The other arm comes in, joined by the first, and both hands grip Dusty by the collar of her coat. She pulls her in. "Did you know - absinthe, commonly accredited to cause hallucinations, carries the by-name of 'Green Fairy'..?" She doesn't let her answer. Instead, the mix of apple-scented hair, cinnamon perfume, faint smoke and cheap alcohol on glossy lips comes in and pushes into Dusty's lips. Not a chaste peck on the cheek, not a light kiss of a demure or shy girl, but the full brunt of a kiss, supported by the hands dragging Angela in with strength behind the arms' tension. Head lightly canted, Dustoff is treated to a real kiss, meant from the bottom of Fiona's heart.

*Dustoff had expected something small and short, a noncommittal peck. What she got instead was warmth. Sunshine in the form of a kiss, surprisingly strong hands hauling her down to meet Fiona's lips in a lingering lurid liplock, the kind that, for several moments of perfection provided her with utter clarity. Reality and the Dream separated into two distinct lines, and holding Angie firmly in the Real was, a burning beacon of soft warm genuine girl. Cheap booze, smoke, the perfume. All of it was real, all of it seared into that broken mind like a duckling imprinting on the first thing it saw. When finally their lips broke, her head spun, her vision touched white on the edges... One arm around Fiona's waist, the other cupping her cheek as the merc whispered with a quaking voice. "You're Real."

*Fiver laughs, soft like wind chimes. "Yes I am, Angie. There is plenty of crazy up ahead, but I'll be there with you. My outfit does handler/agent pairings pretty seriously. Like, there won't be anyone else managing you - you'll have to deal with me. Aaaand... well. You'd be my first agent, too. They promoted me recently and with the new cases I got put on, gave me clearance to recruit someone - but I already knew who I wanted." She pulls her right back in, kisses her again. Just as powerful, albeit shorter. "I've been waiting for you." She rolls around just enough to put the guard rails into her back, and Dusty in front of her, bodies close. Her hands stay up there, by the collar of the coat, but the tension eases up a bit - enough to let Dusty move away, or just rebuild some distance.

*Dustoff had to laugh, and not something quiet and bitter, no, she barked out sheer joy. "You're as green as your hair!?" There was disbelief touched by uncharacteristic joy, Angie sinking into the second kiss with vim and vigor to rival the first. Arms wrapped around Fiona, around her little Absinthe fairy who'd come and anchored her firmly, if briefly in the Real. "I'm in, then. All in, but you know you went and picked the dog with the weird ear and funny walk when there were thoroughbreds in the Kennel, right?" She finished, gracing Fiona with a mirror of her smile, full, but brief, a moment of open honesty.

*Fiver wraps her arms around her head and presses the merc's face against her neck. "Angie, you don't pick a dog because of a good breeding letter. You pick one because of personality." She gives her a squeeze that lasts a lifetime, and continues talking with a softer voice. "I much rather... rather..." Did she just sniffle a little? "... rather have the dog that's been in fights and appreciates a warm hand up the neck, than a pampered plushie that doesn't care either which way." A longer sigh follows, paired with a collecting sniff. "Look, you've done enough here. It's time you let someone do something for you. And no kennel for you, either. You get to sleep in a real bed." Fiona holds onto the mercenary.

*Dustoff took in a deep breath, the perfume alone enough to comfort her, to make her squeeze Fiona just a little tighter, to nuzzle in a little deeper chasing that comfort. "Don't go getting teary eyed on me, Fiona...you'll make me jealous." She said softly, closing her eye, swallowing heavily. Sure, she was the dog with the weird limp and the funny ear... But noone else would appreciate her for it like Fiona would. Her brain, whether because it was broken or whatever else, told her to stick close. To turn this Green Fairy from a hallucination into her real thing. "Bark, I guess. Let's... Let's go see my new bed, huh? I'm feeling sore all over."

*Fiver gigglesnorts. "Did- ... did you just bark at me?" She tugs and pulls and holds Dusty like the nonexistent distance between them was still too far. "You're gonna make me even more teary-eyed. Look, it's not like I am asking you to marry me. You don't even know me yet, I'm... a bit at an advantage there. I'm only asking you to spend the rest of your life with me. And get well again." Her whisper ends with a peck close to Angie's ear. "It's a little bit like marriage, but you get to keep your name and we don't get tax breaks." More giggling. "Alright, hold on to me. We're leaving - now." One leg hooks in behind Angela's, and Fiona wraps herself as tightly around the merc as she possibly can.

The world stops moving. One final heartbeat, in absolute silence. When the river recommences to flow, when people continue their bustle, both women are gone. Only a forlorn cigarette falling from mid air leaves a hint at their disappearance.