inbox (general)

[4thwaller]

"You've reached the other jolly guy in a red suit with a lap worth sitting on, leave a message detailing your deepest desires."


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[schlick]

( sister margaret's is always booming at a certain time of night, when all the mercs have finished their mercin' and are ready to wipe the blood off their hands so shot glasses don't slip through their fingers. vanessa is warming a bar stool, sharing a few laughs with some nearby murdering men, who have been around long enough to learn not to try and get in her pants, unless they want to get shorted their change in a one-two ballsack ratio. not everyone knows, though. there's a boy at the bar who she's seen once or twice, with these pesky, wandering eyes that keep going exactly where they don't belong.

honestly, vanessa's no mother mary. he's pretty. sometimes ( most of the time ) that's all it takes.

she tosses her drink back, glass hitting the bar top to grab his attention. she arches a brow, turning up a sleazy grin. )

Do I buy you a drink, or ...?

( she's never had to buy a hooker before, but. hey. first times for everything. )

Sorry been doing house duties!!

[4thwaller]

[ The clink of the glass hitting the bar does draw his attention, his and a few of the mercenaries he'd been contemplating trying to win over, they lose interest the moment she speaks to Wade however.

A grin of his own finds his face, toothy and mischievous. He moves to lean against the bar by her, not quite invading her space bubble, but there at the precipice of ir. Someone is apparently smart enough to be wary of the people in the bar.

She's probably one of the more attractive people in Weasel's bar, it's hard not to pay her attention, when the other ladies mostly look like they might bite an ear off and a lot of the guys look like Fat Gandalf or a minute away from being grossly homophobic. ]

You can, but it's not coming out of my rates. [ Wade pauses, dark eyes flickering between her eyes, gathering some unspoken information. ] Well, it'd have to be a really expensive drink, then the price might be right. [ Is she surprised he's a talker? He's constantly chatting with mercenaries and Weasel. ]

im trash

[schlick]

( consider her interest piqued, mr. chatty. she turns up a smile at him, eyes very unapologetically observing the goods, so to speak — she must like what she sees, because her eyes go a little hooded, clicking her tongue. )

Ever had a Blow Job?

( the drink, obviously. not breaking eye contact, she singles up two fingers at weasel. they'll both be having one, thank you. )

we both are.

[4thwaller]

[ Yeah, that's unfair.

Wade's brows knit together slightly, curiosity and surprise at the question mixed into one. A smile begins in the corner of his mouth when he realises she's ordering a drink. The brows that had been pulled together, raise and he tips his head to the side, leaning into her space a bit, not enough to raise any red flags, but enough to say sure, he'll play along. ]

Have you?

[ Because a lady never kisses and tells... or something... ]

Oh, you mean a drink. [ He knew that, the expression he wears says he knew that. ] That's totally what I meant too. [ His attention is grabbed a bit by Weasel moving into his peripheral to grumpily start making Blow Jobs, with a "Why do you make me make this?" A grimace on the blond man's face the entire time. Not that Wade watches him long enough to notice or care. ] Seems like something you'd send to one of the big bikers and say it's from whoever is on your shit-list.