* — — 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 : 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥 [...] // @memokept
‘ your eyes look hungry again . ’
"Is that your professional diagnosis, Swannie~?" The Cowboy can't help but glare when she speaks that. True, his cybernetic eyes do lock in, zoom in and out, and survey the bar they're in with great interest. To describe it as hunger, though? That's a bit too on the nose for him. His cybernetic finger circles a filled whiskey glass whilst he looks at her. The bar they're sitting in is a dark place, smokey and with ambient lighting. It makes it easier for him to focus on her. He's still doubtful of her intentions, still distrustful of her motivations. This partnership of theirs is recent, after all. He might've called her an ally over the radio, but right now? They're in this together tentatively
He reaches for a cigarette pouch on his belt. He pulls out hand-rolled cigars, one of which he puts into a bullet-like cigarette holder that he slots between those shark-like teeth of his. He has a lighter inside one of his various fingertips, but a zippo is a bit more authentic. This is a smoke break between whiskeys. He's had maybe three or four, but doesn't appear any more drunk than he was when he walked in. That's due in part to his cybernetics. So little is left of his organic components that it takes a bit longer for him to fall under alcoholic effects than most others. That being said, drinking is still good for something.
He takes a long drag off his cigar before he continues speaking. A nice cloud of smoke covers his face briefly before he chases the smoke down with the contents of his whiskey glass. A little bit of the alcohol rolls down his mouth, but he's quick to wipe it away before putting the cigarette back between his teeth.
"I am hungry." He states firmly, waiting for the bartender to bring him his next glass, "We're closin' in on 'er... I can feel it." The chase is much easier when you have a memokeeper at your side. Time-consuming interrogations and false trails are easier to sweep aside when you've got someone who can view memories of anyone they come in contact with. At least he thinks that's how it works. Either way, she's helped him enough to consider her useful, but she hasn't helped him enough to consider her trustworthy. "My trigger finger's itchy..." He confesses, before giving her a side-eyed glance. It's soon followed by a teasing little smirk. He decides to change the subject with a cheap and easy remark.
"Why~? You tryna draw these hungry eyes 'ah mine onto somethin' else~?"
