What the Fuck?

Outside the Pool Hall, Dark Alley.

Bob hears the door opening and quickly shoves whatever he was holding back into the trashcan.

"Aha," she nods slowly, a flare in her eyes almost draconic before it disappears and he has a chance to glance back her way. "They couldn't take a woman giving Arthur his sword ta do right, and had ta come up with all sorts of allegories. Lies. Ladies in water, swords in stone. Clearly its yours. Though I'd keep it out of plain sight." Ailsa stands in the mouth of the alley, watching Bob root about in the trash to pull out a shotgun.

The trash won't take it's self out. That's what Cash is for, his lot in life for the day. Domestic in nature, though still a grave necessity. It comes in the form of two black glad bags, stretched to their limitations by a misshapen clump of bottles in various states of breakage. Cigarette dangling in his worn lips, leaking whips of smoke into his face. If that cherry gets any closer to the hilt, he'll be in danger of setting his hair on fire.

Notting two others present, Cash muffles a 'pardon me' as he moves towards the large bin to make a deposit.

Bob steps back and smiles in a way that indicates he's very nervious, "Morning! Afternoon. Evening. Whatever."

Ailsa's gaze lingers on Cash for a moment, again that faintly greenish flash that must be a trick of the light. "Oh, bother," she murmurs in a tone mere shades above disgusted. "Figures. Why are the lessons always so pungent?"

Wait. Mental rewind. Cash is now by the large bin, both hands occupied by trash bags and a cigarette obscuring his vision and muffling his words. But did he just see a shotgun in the trash? Sneakers pause in the wet center that runs down the alley. Eyes shift between Ailsa and Bob like an interrupting parent.

"Wha' th' 'uk 's goin' on?" He asks, words falling clumsily around the smoke. Bending at the knees, one bagful is dropped so he may pluck the offending butt from his lips to speak clearer. "... like uh, who brought the heater to the party, man?" The editorial 'man' in this case, Cash is mostly focused on the nervous suit.

Bob blinks and looks at cash, "What pray tell are you talking about?"

"Our young hero has found his sword," Ailsa says smoothly, nodding once to Bob. "As his self appointed witch in the forest guide, I'm encouraging him to let destiny tug him along by the short hairs. Since she will anyway, its better ta walk with company than alone."

Bob blinks, "You two know each other?"

A double take towards Ailsa, if he were drinking it would qualify as a 'spit-take'. But nothing to dribble out his chapped lips save the remains of his cigarette and the last drink he had. Cash, now changes, ever so slightly. Feet move minutely farther apart from one another centering themselves directly under each denim shoulder. Brows furrow under the veil of hair and the other bag's allowed to join it's contemporary on the alley floor. He does in fact; look into the large trash bin. Is there a shotgun there?

Oddly enough, no. Said gun you swear you saw Bob stuff in the dumpster just a few moments ago is inexplicably gone.

Ailsa mms cautiously. "Not in so many words, no. But one storybook character can recognize another when they're beside one another on the shelf, no matter how dusty or disreputable. Are we done here, Mr. Messiah? There are places in the woods I'm not sure its safe to linger after dark, so far off the path."

Bob says, "Umm... Sure. just let me..." He looks into the dumpster over Cash's shoulder, then blinks alot. He moves the trash around alot then looks puzzled, "But... it was... right here." He frowns a bit and steps back. He looks at Cash, then Ailsa, "Yes... moving on might be good." He turns to walk over towards Ailsa rather quickly.

The young woman purses her lips, never looking away from Cash. Low, "Its truly not wise to meddle in someone else's story. It makes them want to turn your pages with greater attention. The sort of thing one presumes, living in such a location, you're interested in avoiding. Do you want to rethink that particular relocation, in the interests of fellowship and a kindly word?"

This will definitely require a long drag as Cash returns from the bin without the prize he was seeking.

"Hold the phone, man..." Cash says with east-coast spice. He looks to Ailsa and points two fingers with movements like maple syrup. "This is someone's backyard yer playin' dungeons 'n dragons in. I expect a... 'mother may I?' first, ya know? 'Specially from a cultured broad like yerself."

Bob looks at Ailsa like she's a total fruitcake, but comments nothing, insted heading for the end of the alleyway where he pauses to wait for her to join him.

"You don't have any house signs up," Ailsa remarks rather frigidly. "Nor were you apparently aware of someone waking up in your vicintity after a long nap. Therefore you've rather missed your bus. But if you insist upon this sort of path, its yours to walk." And turning, marches with a set mouth out of the alley to join Bob. "Come, then. There were seven swords of Wayland. We shall find you another."

Bob nods to Ailsa and heads out as he comments, "I don't know what's wierder... How

"My bus says 'College' on it. Look it up, ya wacki fuckin' broad..." Annoyance salts Cash's tongue and ash falls into the dirty alley water. Content to watch the two leave, this unlikely dawn pair. A wandering odd couple, perhaps on their way to get some breakfast crack. So it's with a laugh at that thought, Cash cracks a smile.

"Have fun stormin' the castle'" Cash does his best Billy Crystal and deposits the bags of trash.'.

Working the Lori angle.

Suburbs - Bella Figura Ristorante

Italians have an exuberance for food not matched by many. Carefully and lovingly prepared, it's elevated to the same level as lovemaking and religion - and Italians know how to eat and savor their food. Meals in Italy can begin at noon and sometimes find people still gathered around the table at six in the evening, lingering through the last course of pastry, wine and conversation. Their philosophy is, if you eat well, you feel well - and if you feel well, all's well with the world.
The perfect romantic ambiance can be found here at Bella Figura. That same detail to the food can be found in the dark woods that panel the walls where gas-lit torches flicker providing dim lighting, and cozy intimate seating becomes reality in the use of potted plants that seem to enclose some of the tables into their own little world. Once seated, your server will light the candle set in the middle of your table before taking your order from a menu of elegant and fine Italian cuisine. Soft music is often provided by a wandering guitarist who will gladly serenade your table for a few minutes as they circle the room.

'places' Set

Contents:
Lori
Obvious exits:
Private Door PD Out O

Lori is already here, picking at a piece of bread that was set before her when she was seated. She seems a wee bit spacey... But otherwise mostly all right. There's a coke in front of her since she couldn't produce the necessary ID. Of course, you won't be able to see this until you get to where the table is in view.

Pobble wanders into the restaurant, looking almost sharp eyed. Not that his bleech blues aren't glossy, but some combination seems to be keeping him focused as he strolls purposefully across to the hostess, murmering quiet words to her. In response she guides him across to Lori's table where after flashing one of his more charming smiles, he slides down into the space opposite her. "Evenin'."

Lori smiles up at Pobble. "Hey, you made it... Try the bread, it's really good. I was doing my level best not to tear into it. I'm starving. How're you?" Lori reaches for her soda with a slow motion as though she might be a bit stiff.

Pobble's elbows rest on the table, a lazy silver tipped hand reaching for the bread as recommended. He eyes you curiously as he moves a plate over, pulling off a chunk with a spray of crumbs. "I'm decent. What about you? Everything alright?"

Lori nods and sips her soda. "Yeah... not bad." She smiles beatifically for a second at him, clearly not a hundred percent sober to the trained eye. "How's life as an outlaw?" She reaches for a piece of bread and pops a bit in her mouth.

The waitress appears, enquiring about drinks and appetizers. Pobble gives you a sidelong questioning look before turning to the woman with a warm smile. "Wine, surprise me. A good red." A quick glance to the menu at his side and he adds, "Motzarella sticks. Anything for you Lori?"

Lori thinks about it, "Calamari, please," she tells the server and gives her a brief smile before focusing on Pobble again. Her elbows are on the table too, and when she gets done munching the piece of bread she props her chin on her hands.
The server heads off, picking her way towards the kitchen and Pobble's attention returns to the girl opposite him. His smile is crooked, considering her in silence for a long moment as he absently pulls apart the bread. "I wasn't aware that I was an outlaw."

Lori shrugs at him. "Y'look like one. Y'act like one." Her voice is somewhat lazy, posessed of a distinct southern drawl at times. Lori's brilliant green eyes blink serenely.

Pobble waves his glinting fingertips dismissively, reaching for the plate of garlic and liberally dousing it with oil. "Nah, not so much. Used to with my modified trashcan on me noggin, but those days are long gone. Bloody Aussies got wise to me." A small smirk at the deadpan humour, bread soaking up the extra virgin fluid. "So, Miss Researcher. He ask you to pull me over and dig a little, or is this a purely social visit?"

"Miss Researcher...?" Lori looks a little confused but continues slowly, "A little bit of both, but mostly me wanting to hang with you. Both of us are really curious, though." She shrugs and watches you as if you were a particularly engrossing film, the little glints of light coming off of your fingers and such catching her attention.

Pobble nods slowly, taking a bite from the dripping bread and half smiling appreciatively. Settling back he retains a pensive look, twisting the loaf fragment between his fingers. "I see." he murmers distractedly, again lapsing into silence as he tries to figure you out and not seeming to make much progress. "What about me makes you curious then?"

Lori drops one of her hands to the table so that she's just leaning on one, her cheekbone braced against the heel of her hand. "Uhm... mostly? I don't know. I think that's what drives me crazy." Shrug. "You're kinda nice to be around, is all. I mean, not... /nice/, because nice is boring... But, uhm." Shrug.

"I see." Pobble seems mildly amused, finishing the last of the hunk and not going for another quite yet. Adjusting his seating, any reply is delayed by the arrival of his wine and the appetizers. Once the server has gone, he repositions his elbows on either side of the plate before him, pulling his glass slowly across the table. "Just my incredible charisma then eh?" he asks, grin widening.

Lori frowns at him. "You're making fun of me."

Pobble laughs quietly, "Not at all." Pale eyes roll, wine lifted and swilled carefully around the glass, brought back over the plate in contemplation of drinking it. "I diddn't take you as being so uptight." he teases, a nail tapping against the glass with a strange sound. "Sorry."

Lori sighs. "I'm not uptight, it's just..." She shakes her head, causing the pigtails to bounce about enthusiastically. "Forget it. Hard to explain." Finally she sits back and grabs a fork to start digging into the squid. Mmmm... squid.

Pobble doesn't seem too eager to pick at the sticks, taking a long sip from the wine instead and nodding appreciatively, the tip of his tongue pulling a stray drop from his lower lip. "See now you've got me curious." He grins lopsidedly, but lets the subject drop. Wine is set back down. "So.."

Lori shrugs her shoulders and says, "Look, people assume lotsa stuff about me, and some of it's true and some of it ain't. I'm not that hard to figure out... Well... maybe." She offers an uncertain smile. "About as hard as you, I figure."

Pobble smirks, "From what I gather you're having a hard time of that so it can't be that simple." He shrugs, lazily leaning back against the booth. "I'm not assuming anything, that always spoils the surprises." His finger curls around the stem of the glass, wrist resting on the edge of the table.

Lori nods her head a few times and dips some calamari into marinara. "Not hungry, particularly?" she asks, green eyes peering up at him unabashedly for the moment.

"A little I guess." Pobble is prompted to acting, selecting one of the fried cheese sticks and lifting it towards him. "I'm on a diet." he adds, unable to supress the smile. A bite is taken, cheese stringing out as he pulls the morsel back. Chew chew chew. "Not been here for a while.. Not bad is it."

Lori snorts at you. "Diet... like hell. If you get any skinnier I'll be able to beat the crap out of you. Then you'd be all embarrassed you got your ass beat by a girl." She pushes the plate of fried squid forward in offer in case you want some.
Pobble shakes his head, the peice in his hand waved in a help yourself-to-mine gesutre. The last of the chunk is popped between his lips, the pause resulting from chewing the thick and chewy cheese goodness. "I just can't help it. Blame it on a hyperactive metabolism."

Lori mumbles, "...or a really keen smack habit." She's at least halfway teasing you. "No offense, but I'm blaming the smack." Her fingers snake out to snag a mozarella stick which she promptly dunks in marinara.

"Never been a big fan of the smack." he half grins, "Although once I hit middle age, slow down and start to balloon I'll probably consider it." Either way, he doesn't seem in much of a hurry to continue his food, taking the wine in hand once more. "What about you then Lori? From what you said the other night, I take it you're a clean straight arrow?"

Lori snorts softly. "Yeah... I'm a real straight arrow..." She shakes her head and looks out at the restaurant, what she can see of it from here. Fingers absently rub crumbs from each other. "Not anymore. Used to be a bit."

Pobble raises a brow, "You used to be a bit straight?" Amused he shuffles along the booth to the corner, resting a thigh along the seat and placing his glass upon it. "How come you and Sam don't get along?" he enquires nonchalantly.

Lori reaches up to use the fingernail on her pinky finger to brush aside a couple of wisps of hair not caught up in her pigtails. "Because she's a whore and she pisses me off," Lori answers easily, reaching for her coke. She shrugs and adds, "She's Damian's girlfriend, so it's like having Yoko fucking Ono in the house all the time."

"You all live together?" Pobble asks, only a mild trace of surprise in his tone. Boot hanging in the air shifts to tap against the table support, the movement bringing ripples to the surface of his wine. "Sounds like a recipie for drama."

Lori just rolls her eyes and makes a frustrated sound in her throat. Hauling off and screaming obscenities right now probably wouldn't go over so well with the management. "Fucking hell it is," she agrees quietly.

Pobble tries not to smirk, but doesn't do a terribly good job of it. A lazy free hand rises to scratch a patch of tattooed skin at the edge of his goggles. He continues to stare evenly across the table, ignoring the usual conversational choice of looking away every now and then. Manners aren't his strong point after all. "Why not find a place of your own then?"

Lori shakes her head. "What, and live in some rathole I can barely afford eating ramen noodles every night and going to sleep praying that the stray bullets won't clip me in the head while I sleep? No thanks. Did that, and I didn't like it."

Pobble raises a thin brow, not ceasing the tapping of his foot. A swig from the wine proceeds the question, "Doesn't pay well then does he?" Subsequently the beverage is drained, empty glass set down unevenly and wobbling before it comes to rest.

Lori shrugs. "He pays fine. It's not like it's all about money or anything either. We're friends. That counts a lot more. I know if something goes wrong, Damian will never leave me hanging. And I'll never leave him hanging, either. You can't buy that with money."

"Very true." Pobble seems intrigued, musing quietly as he studies you. It's maybe one of those awkward silences, although the blue haired chemist doesn't look awkward. He steeples his hands in his lap, the beat of his fingertips tapping in counterpoint to the rapping of boot on table leg.

Lori watches you unblinkingly from across the table as you dissect her and try to take her apart and put her back together again. She's fairly used to that kind of thing, but the silence starts getting to her after a while. "What? What're you thinkin?"

Pobble shakes his head, a braid sliding over his shoulder and the sharp point of a cable tie poking at his neck. He doesn't seem to care, smiling wryly as he offers a shrug. "Just trying to figure things out." he murmers in reply, glossy pale blue eyes unrelenting in their stare. He blinks, a cue to change his position, straightening back out and setting elbows back on table, idly touching the edges of his plate with glinting fingertips. "So, where'd you guys come from before swaggering into our quiet little town?"

Lori murmurs with a smile, "Nah, I ain't gonna talk all day about me and them." She looks kind of sad for a minute then reaches out to pick up her coke to sip at it in a thoughtful silence.

Pobble's brows moves towards a frown, not at the reply but the moment after it. He doesn't seem to care about the rebuttal, the plate before him slowly rorating with the pressure of his fingertips. "Fair enough." A brief pause before the follow up. "What's the matter?"

Lori sets her glass down then scrunches into the corner of the booth and starts digging into her pockets. She shakes her head and gets a pack of cigarettes out. Once she gets one out of the pack she throws the rest down for you to take one if you want. Now she's gotta hunt through a bunch of other pockets to find a lighter. "I wish there was a fucking Hallmark card to say what I was thinking. It just gets so goddamned stupid after a while. 'Roses are red, violets are blue. I'm never honest. How about you?'"

Pobble laughs, only briefly. A zippo is easily pulled from his jacket pocket, handed over and taking one of your smokes with the same movement. "That seems to be one thing about this place. It's full of secrets." The smile that forms on his lips is a curious one, pensive yet entertained, as if mulling over some hidden intrigue that proves his statement.

"Blah blah blah," Lori answers, taking the zippo so she can light up the smoke. Afterwards she hands the flame back across to you. Two on a match is okay. "The whole world is full of secrets."

Pobble puffs the smoke to life, holding the nicotine laced haze in his lungs over long before releasing it from his nose. "Maybe." Eyes search lazily for an ashtray as he already moves for a second drag. Another one of those pauses finds a way to break into the conversation, "If your lies make you uncomfortable, why not just be honest?" The expression on blue-hair's face makes it obvious that he doesn't see this as a likely option, but it's something to fill the dead air.

Lori shakes her head. "Never said I lie, just that I ain't honest. And that's a different thing." The girl licks her lips, tasting the nicotine. "I dunno, I don't expect you to understand." Frown. "I'm a sorry sack 'o shit, ain't I. Oh, well." She ashes her cigarette at the ashtray and says, "Well, Doctor Steve, thanks for coming out and having a snack with me." She reaches into a pocket to pull out some money and starts flipping through it. "Probably I oughta go so I don't depress the shit out of -both- of us."

Pobble waves a hand at the attempted payment, "I got it." he murmers amidst a slow exhalation. "It was certainly.. interesting? Thanks for inviting me." The Doctor looks more perplexed than anything, entirely unsure of the whole event. "Next time we'll stick to less depressing topics eh?" The small pillar of ash is removed from his cigarette, barely making it to the ashtray. "You can come talk to me anytime you're depressed though, that's what Doctors are for right?"

Lori stubs out her cigarette after a last drag and shoves her money away except for a few dollars for a tip. There. And she wriggles out of the booth, but instead of walking off she swings around to the other side of it to sit next to you.

Pobble raises a brow, half confused, half amused. Bemused is probably the word. Angling himself around, he looks at you with tilted head, a strand of stray blue hanging over his goggles to tickle above his eye. The brow twitches but his hands stay in his lap. "You came back soon."

Lori shrugs and smiles up at you. "I needed a new perspective." She looks across the way at her vacated seat for a few moments before focusing on you again. Her voice drops down low and she murmurs, "I'm sorry I can't give you all the information you want. I don't even know if you're trying to hurt him or not. I think maybe you are, and that kind of upsets me, but... nothing I can do about that right now. I like you, Pobs, but I'm real... scared, in a way."

The topic change definately straightens Pobble out, shoulder resting against the seat back as he frowns. Fingers seem uncertain of what to do, almost tapping but not sure if they should. With the cigarette hanging precariously from his lips, the smoke curls up around his head, a thin hazy veil between the two. It's plucked after a moment, allowing speech. "I'm not Trying to hurt him." he admits, his tone quiet. "But, why are you scared?"

Lori stuffs her hands together in her lap, wedging them between her knees which makes her slouch forward some. "I don't know. Isn't that crazy? I think it's because everything's in flux. My life is pretty clear in some ways, but in others I get really seriously confused." She lifts her head so she can look at you, those green eyes looking mildly bloodshot up close though no less luminous.

Pobble lightly taps your arm with the back of his hand, smiling trying to be reassuring maybe. It's passable. "I'd ask what confuses you but I doubt I'd get any comprehensible answer." he says slowly, seeming resigned to the facts. "Aren't things always in flux in this line of work, at least to some degree? Or is this something else?"

Lori reaches up to scratch at her temple with a few long fingernails that are somewhat chipped and could use a good emory board. "Well, yeah, I mean you're right about that... Things are generally always in flux. But I mean me, personally." She sighs and rubs the table surface, digging the texture there. "See, this is what happens when I don't work enough." She beams a quick smile. "I start thinkin'." She lays her head on your shoulder unless you just dodge out of the way. "I also shouldn't go around this high, but I can't seem to help it lately. I just wanna float away."

Pobble's smile is small and secret, out of view of Lori with her head rested down, formed around the pulling of the last drag on the cigarette. An arm is extended, keeping his back against the booth to stub the butt. Back in his lap, fingertips fidget against the gloves that half cover his hands. "What's so bad to think about?" he coaxes softly, sounding concerned.

Lori lifts her head once more and yawns, pushing some strands of hair away from her face. "Fate," she says, stretching her spine. It cracks a few times, and she winces. "Ungh." One hand reaches up to rub her shoulder. "Cause sometimes even when you know something's gonna be bad you do it anyway. Dumb, huh?"

Pobble studies the girl's motions as if somehow the examination will bring some clarity to the vageries. Doesn't seem to, but he appears to get the gist of the sentiment if not the details behind it. He doesn't move that much, apart from the uneasy drug afflicted shifting of extremeties. "That's human nature." he comments, a flicker of amusement pulling at a corner of his lips. "We're all fucking stupid on some level."

Lori looks up and laughs at his comment, finding that to be funny and apt. "Nice. Yeah, we are. But you're pretty cool, Pobble. Oh, well. If you get bored, or need a date or just want someone to get high with, you can call me." She nods at him and starts wrigging out of the booth. "It's cool."

"Maybe I'll do that." Pobble replies, half smiling, distracted by thoughts. As an afterthought he adds, "I guess you're alright." this pushing his smile wider. He twists again, leaning back against the far wall of the booth, stretching a leg out into the space of your absence, apparently not intending to leave quiet yet. "Be good."

Lori snorts at you in amusement. "Yeah... I'm alright..." She shakes her head at you and lifts her hand. "See you later, Pobble. Pretty sure I'll be seein ya soon." She shrugs and stuffs her hands in her pockets and starts moseying for the door. Before she gets out of earshot she says, "Thanks for the dinner." And there she goes, wandering off to god only knows where.