[Awareception!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )
Ihsan
[Samesies!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )
Grace
Grace isn't really looking to drink her problems away. No, she's just walking through the neighborhood because Google Maps says that this is where a certain store that sells security robots is located, and she wanted to... say... check out the competition. It's a unique distraction from her downer of a life.
Also, it's a way to get some ideas. The Warehouse so needs a security robot.
It is on her way past a certain bar that twinges the senses -- that makes her feel like... Well, it isn't pleasant. Feels like the very essence of shredding. But not everyone can twist the universe such that it feels like happy downy pillows.
That's Ihsan.
Well, it's not so much a distraction, but maybe obtaining some alcohol might be. Why not? She steps inside, not noticed by many. Maybe they notice the cold more than they really see her. She doesn't go out of her way to be seen, after all -- just jeans, that grey turtleneck jacket, and a coat against the cold. There's also a scarf buried somewhere in there. Her eyes scan the place for someone she knows.
Ihsan
Grace was there for robots.
Ihsan was there for a Tinder date.
She was at a pool table, leaned forward for a shot. She dressed in the same dark tones that were inspired upon her by her Avatar-- the vision of Everything That Was, the One Who Would Return. Her jeans were tight and black. Her heels were tall and black. Her shirt was-- a dark gray, actually, well-fitting with a swooping neck that left plenty of space for a big jangly gold-and-rubyred necklace to set on her collarbone.
On the other side of the table, holding a pool queue, was some tall white dude with blocky shoulders and an equally blocky head, on which the hair was gingery-brown and growing soft out of a buzzcut. He was grinning and anxious both. Having fun but eager to get past the niceties and on out of there-- he had places he wanted to go in the morning, after all.
With a clack! Ihsan broke the set-up triangle formation of pool balls. None of the went in the pockets, and she straightened up with a soft disappointed cluck and wry smile for the meathead who was about to take his turn.
Then a chill ran up her spine and Ihsan looked past her shoulder. Spied a familiar face near the door. Smiled, and raised her pool queue in greeting.
Grace
Huh. Well. Ihsan's there, all right. Shooting pool. Grace gives her a smile and raises a hand in an awkward greeting response, then heads straight for the bar.
It's not that she doesn't wish to talk. It's just... Ihsan is there with a guy who has reason to pay a lot of attention to her. A Sleeper guy, from what she can tell. The perfect time to start chatting about what's going on in Denver these days, right? Maybe if the only conversation she wanted to have was about the weather.
The bartender arrives in front of her before her brain has switched gears enough to figure out what she really wants. "Uhhhh. Something? I know I want something. Let's see... Irish coffee?"
Just a repeat of what she got the last time she was in a bar. Back when things made even less sense, and were even more tense.
Ihsan
Grace headed to the bar. She was alone there for a little while, left to do her own thing-- consider her thoughts, explore the internet and/or Ginger from her phone, look around and scope out the crowd. It wasn't until more than five minutes but not quite ten minutes after she'd gotten her coffee and sipped it away that Ihsan slid up onto the stool next to her.
Up close she smelled like a velvety perfume, and her face was done up in make-up complete with plum lips and deep ruby nails (short, though). She quirked a sideways smile at the woman and hooked an elbow onto the bar to rest her jaw in her fingers.
"How are you, Grace?"
Grace
Grace tilts her head to Ihsan. This close one can tell the difference in how the two prepared for their separate outings. Grace hasn't looked in a mirror for more than a few glances today. There's no makeup, no fancy nails, and her hair -- well, it is hair. Not particularly messy or cared for either.
There's also tension there.
"Shitty. Well, okay. Not me, really. Everyone else is having a rough go, though. How are you?"
Ihsan
[Perception 2 + Empathy 1: Whatsamadda?]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Grace
[Grace looks vaguely tired, but not of the sleep-deprivation kind. There's more of a worn quality to her. Grace is a person who at least attempts to care about other people, as evidenced by her inserting herself into the Euthanatoi's business. If there are other people having a 'rough go' out there, she's probably worrying about them.]
Ihsan
The woman who sat upon the stool beside Grace was a stark juxtaposition from her. Dark where she was light, adorned where Grace was bare and forward. Her brows were even penciled in, shaped precisely tonight. Warpaint. A lioness on the prowl. If Grace were paying mind, she'd find that Ihsan's date was further up the bar waiting to pay off the tab. This was a popular part of town on a Friday night, after all. There was a crowd of orders to contend with.
Those well-shaped brows knit together and she scowled empathetic up at Grace. Straightened up on the stool but kept her forearm on the countertop.
"I heard about Samir. He will pull through." She hadn't been here long, but seemed confident in her assessment all the same.
With a purr of a dark voice on a north African accent, she inquired, "Who else has problems that need solving?"
Grace
The world, Ihsan. The entire world.
Kalen's in from Chile, and just laid enough kindling down to start a conflagration within the Flambeau. And is promptly heading off to Hawaii to let it burn in his absence. One might say he likes the mischief, but Grace has seen the sadness in his eyes when he talks about what must be done. It's like being the black sheep of the family, and not particularly happy about it.
But that? That would require too much explaining. And so much of that is so politically poisonous it can't be spoken about on Ginger, much less in a bar.
Another time. Ihsan should know about the war that might come. Everybody should know, before they decide to stay here.
"Alex. Remember him? The cop? Ran into him the other day," Grace says, and takes a drink of spiked coffee. "He swore he was being played with by a 'Crat. Didn't want anyone around, you know? Tough guy, thinks he's protecting everybody by refusing to come in contact with them."
Where have we seen that before? She shakes her head.
"I stopped by to check on him, make sure he wasn't chipped or something horrible. And I managed to figure out who the boogeyman was."
At that last sentence, she points at Ihsan, and gives her a look. Yeah, you.
Ihsan
You, said the look that Grace gave her.
Ihsan's eyebrows went up with surprise and she touched her ruby-tipped fingertips to her chest. The combination made her appear surprised, innocently unaware of whatever havoc she may have wrought. Moi?, it asked.
It was at this point that her date came up behind her, having finished paying the bill. He wore a smile for the greeting, politely bobbed his head to Grace with a close-lipped smile, and through a dense Russian accent asked Ihsan if she would join him outside for a smoke before they left. She advised him that at she would meet him outside in a minute. As he lumbered away she watched him go, then grinned a sharp-toothed looking smile (perfect for ripping) before looking back to Grace once more.
"I only thought he wanted the conquest for himself. I didn't realize how worried I had the man. That is a solvable problem."
She paused and looked thoughtful as she slipped off the stool.
"Where can I find him?"
Grace
Ihsan is smiling. Grace isn't. Alex isn't talking to her anymore. She just takes another drink of Irish coffee.
"Well, when I told him, he got mad and made really sure I knew I wasn't welcome at the police station anymore. Not like I wanted to be there anyway..."
She looks at the bar. Such interesting scratches in the wood, yes?
"You have to understand, right? They've been spotted at police buildings in Denver recently. Alex had been warned. So, you know, he had reason. I should have told him about you beforehand so he didn't get all worked up.
"I don't know where you can find him, other than where he works, though. He destroyed his old phone."
Ihsan
"Yeah he did. I couldn't call him a second time when he hung up on me the first time."
Ihsan shook her head, then reached out and patted Grace on the back. The gesture was genuine without being incredibly sympathetic. A 'there there'. "You should try their copper mule. I'm going to find out how good mine is." This, said with a glance back to the front door, then a grin and a suggestive bouncing of eyebrows back at Grace.
Then Ihsan was gone-- making her way back to the door where she claimed a (surprise) black coat and wrapped a gray scarf around her neck as she stepped out into the cold December night.
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