enforcerbutch:
She was rather pretty, now that he got a look at her. Simple, worn clothes increased Butch’s opinion of the woman right off the bat; if the waiter had plopped a ballgown-wearing perfumed ditz in her seat the man probably would’ve gotten up and left, but maybe this wouldn’t be half bad. He was still definitely going to fuck with this place at work on Monday, but maybe he’d lessen the accusations he sent flying towards them. Maybe.
As she glanced around the room the enforcer laughed at her words, the sound deeply amused and purposefully boisterous, drawing quite a few questioning or dirty looks. “Good luck, he ran off with my whiskey order and came back with you so if we so much as think about food and drink I think they might come back with the gods-damned Palace orchestra to squeeze in at our table.”
A passing waiter winced at Butch’s words, glancing at the duo’s bare table with a inaudible groan. She glared at the back of her retreating coworker before speed walking towards the kitchens. While the enforcer hadn’t missed this display, he resolutely ignored it. While his name did him no favors in this faction, the LEA symbol plainly exposed on his forearm did. Glancing towards the woman’s wrists, he noted the six there with little interest, eyes lingering a fraction of a second longer on her faction marks. A Spade who defected to Clubs, interesting. Her bearing thus far had evidence of both, though, and it wasn’t like defectors from any faction were uncommon.
“Names Butch, by the way.”
The waiter who’d ducked into the kitchens came back with a broad smile, placing two mugs of water onto their table as well as a menu in front of his table partner. “Sorry about that, I’ll be helping you today! My name is Hara.”
Butch’s expression wasn’t exactly kind but it was significantly less confrontational than it’d been when first host had appeared. “Hello Hara, I ordered a drink with your rather useless coworker that I assume was never actually placed, not that I blame you for that. Single malt whiskey, anything that doesn’t have any flowery or fruity infusions in it, please. I’d rather my mouth not taste like a field.”
He looks down at his menu again, eyes skimming over most of the food with a dissatisfied knit to his brows. “And this sandwich, I guess.” Muttering more to himself than either of the women in ear shot he added, “What kind of self respecting bar doesn’t even serve noodles?” He handed the menu back, taking a sip of the iceless water while he waited for the stranger across from him to either order or send the girl away.
“Can’t say I’m all that impressed with this place, though I don’t know what I expected from a place called Swine.”
Fallon didn’t hide the sour face she made at the mention of The Palace orchestra and the mental image of having to share a table with them. Theatrics didn’t suit her, nor did anyone who found themselves so absorbed in any facet of them. Thespians they called themselves. Nuisances was her preferred term- the polite one, in any case.
Butch, she repeated in her mind. She’d remember it, as she remembered all names given to her.
Like Butch, it was an instinct on par with muscle memory to glance at the exposed markings. She gave exactly zero fucks about the lot of them, but the one marking him as LEA did surprise her. Though, surprise might have been too strong a word. Fallon found it interesting, combined with his general demeanor so far and the state of what she could only assume was a uniform. While the worn, wrinkled, somehow dusty clothes wouldn’t have turned heads in her faction, she was sure these uppity pricks turned up their noses at it.
She was about to do the courteous thing and introduce herself, when Hara appeared, resulting in Fallon opening her mouth only to shut it again with a comically straight face. Butch took the lead and Fallon watched their interaction with mild amusement, a smile and barely contained laughter twisting the corners of her lips upward. He may not look a lot like a Diamond, but the attitude was definitely there. Telling someone it’s not their fault while also making them the target of the frustrated lashing. He wasn’t entirely wrong though, so far their collective experience of this place had been more than lacking.
And judging by his drink order, he clearly had taste. (But not much, if she heard that noodle comment correctly.)
So she decided to let the Diamonds deal with each other. “I’d expect some good pork, at least.” She started, then, looking up at Hara with a tired, but not unkind smile. “I’ll have the same drink, also sans all fields. But make mine a double shot. And um,” She takes a quick, last glance at the menu, finger coming up to highlight the cheapest sandwich she can find. “This pulled pork one. Thank you.”
She handed the menu back to the waitress, who took them both and left, the fake smile dropping as soon as she thought she was out view. The healer turned towards Butch. “As I was about to say, I’m Fallon.” It was unceremonious, but that’s just how she was.
She picked up the mug of water, bringing it to her nose first. It was a force of habit now, checking to make sure there was no contamination or tampering. Once satisfied, she took a large sip, then set it back down, her nose scrunching as the stale flavor coated her tongue. “You’d think with so many elementalists here, they wouldn’t need to keep swamp water for the customers. Or do you think we’re the only ones that got served this?”
