Banner's

Logfile from M3

[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Did you know."

[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "There's this guy in San Angeles."

[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "And he's -blue-."

[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "... really?"

[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Really. It's pretty interesting. He says it's because he drank a bunch of water full of silver."

[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Hmmm. That does sound interesting. I wonder if it's true...?"

[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "He could be a robot, but he doesn't move like one. He says it's argyria; I'm going to look it up when I get the chance. But he -is- blue."

[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "Where's this, then?"

[Radio] Hien sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "<mmmmphhhghswallow> --Banner's Malt Shop. Business district."

[Radio] You send Hien a direct message: "I'll be along shortly, sirrah."

Banner's Malt Shop

A cozy, inviting environment would be the best way to describe the interior of Banner's. A counter is at the entrance, along with the requisite UFO catcher-style arcade games. The counter holds ice cream of various flavors, as well as the cash registers, obviously. There are a number of booths, some of which are on an upper level and some of which are on a lower level; presumably, the upper is the smoking section and the lower is the non-smoking section. There is a door to the back room, of course, which is where all the actual cooking takes place.

Contents:

Rigger

Hien

Cargo Belome

Hien sort of waves absently at Cargo, as if to show that he's heard what the Blue Man is saying, but isn't listening actively anymore. "Yeah, well, I was hungry," he says, with an almost sheepish smile. Yes, Hien gets hungry a lot, and tends to gorge when he does. "Why're you in town?" He thinks a moment, then drops his voice to a murmur that shouldn't be heard more than a foot away, "Somebody chasing you?"

"Ah..." Rigger glances over her shoulder at the door she'd just entered in such a manner. Obviously to avoid someone, it would seem, but it seemed silly explaining it. "Sort of. Not really. I was out for a walk and saw someone I know and don't like. So I was trying to avoid them." She looks back towards Hien and makes a 'chattering' motion with her hand while giving a quick frown. "Guy never shuts up."

Cargo begins at his ice cream, letting the strider talk. Best not to interrupt a conversation.

Considering Hien sort of barged in on Cargo, Cargo is a great deal more polite in this respect than the chimera Strider. "Really?" Hien asks, a dangerous glint in his pale blue eyes. "People like that suck. You sure they're not following you still?" The way he's looking at her says he might very happily be willing to, uh, -help- with that problem.

How delightfully ironic that, when Rigger comes looking for a reprieve from vain bibble-babble, the Fool himself should step through the door. *jinglejinglejinglejingle!*

Hey, wait. The door doesn't have THAT many bells on it-- wtp? Yes, Feste /is/ in fact wearing motley. He apparently hasn't noticed this yet, however, or maybe he just -likes- it. Who knows? He notices Rigger first of all, though it's Hien he's here to see. "Why, hello, madonna!"

BN has arrived.

Cargo Belome has disconnected.

Rigger hesitates in responding at first for the fact that Hien did seem a bit too eager for someone to be following her. So she does what she usually does when faced with a potentially dangerous individual: Distracts them. Her method of distraction, it would seem, is to step up alongside him and try taking hold of his arm nearly hugging it against her. "Oh I'm sure," she begins to respond only to cut off as bells jingle. Far too many bells... In fact, she didn't even remember the door having a bell to begin with. The cheery greeting and use of a nickname only one ever called her causes her to look back with a sheepish grin. "Hello, Fool."

Thankfully, Fate is also really good at distracting Hien. At the sound of the door opening--and the jingle of bells--the chimera Strider raises his head, drawing his arm back from Rigger's grip unconsciously. He turns to see who it is, a lock of black hair falling across his face and necessitating him to brush it away--even as he smiles, a slightly less disturbing smile than his earlier look. "F! You came! I think the blue guy just left, though."

The bell-bedecked Fool grins, in a rather lopsided matter, at Rigger and then Hien in turn. "I did indeed," he replies, "but what-- you mean I missed him?" He swivels around to look behind him, hoping maybe to catch the blue fellow... to no avail. Alas. He turns back around, and looks terribly disappointed. "Alas the day! I wanted to see him. It sounded really quite spectacular."

"Oh not terribly." Rigger crosses her arms over her chest in lieu of not having an arm to hug onto. No big loss, really. The job of distracting him was done and she wasn't really the sort to play cutesy all the time. Not in this outfit anyway. "I've seen him around on more than one occasion. Usually not in the nicest places, and always with shady people."

Rigger

A definate change has come over this woman. Her blonde hair, once long enough to rival the infamous Zero's, is now only down to her shoulders and curled with a perm. Her skin is still it's normal healthy light tan, and her eyes the mis-matched blue and green that was a mere genetic quirk. She also wears just the slightest hint of makeup. It's not much more than she usually wears, which is nothing at all, but the slightest bit of color has been added to her lips to give her a more wide-awake and well-kept look.

New, sturdy blue jeans of a dark indigo shade conceal and cover her legs. They're boot cut at the ends and slide over the tops of a pair of brown leather steel-toed work boots that have gained quite a few scuffs. They're still in relatively good condition and kept clean save for the occasional black streak where it was impossible to get out a stain. A large and slightly baggy long-sleeved white shirt is tucked into the top of her jeans with just enough left out that it helps to conceal the figure of her upper-torso. The collar is parted just enough to display a plain necklace with an odd rectangular pendant seemingly made of marble. It's the only peice of jewelry she wears other than a black digital watch with several features strapped to one wrist. Over it all is worn a black leather jacket that seems new still. It's fashioned to resemble a military peacoat to some extent and is fastened with a double row of buttons down the front where it overlays her chest. The waist is further cinched shut with a simple tie-belt, and the jacket length itself ends just past her hips.

Carrying:

Rigger's Room <RM>

"What she said," Hien says, with a lazy nod to Rigger. He thinks a moment, before retreating back to the table where Cargo was, pocketing the tip left for the waiter, and retrieving his hamburger. He's such a jerk. Returning to Rigger and Feste--hamburger in hand--he adds, "And it's not THAT special. He's just...blue. Really stands out, for a guy who probably can't afford to." Though the remainder of his hamburger is now cold, he eats it anyway. Mmm.

Feste clasps his hands behind his back for the moment, listening to Rigger as the very image of attentiveness. "Oh? Sounds like someone I know." He smirks and then pauses, as if considering it -- maybe it WAS someone he knows. Maybe it was that Cargo fellow, who is indeed a shady person. Hmm. Ah well.

He rolls his eyes at Hien and his antics. "Well, I still wanted to see it. Oh well." He shifts his attention to the inside of the building, looking around with a modicum of interest. Iiiinteresting. "I've never been here before. How's the food?"

Rigger jerks her thumb towards Hien with a rather clueless shrug. "Dunno. Ask the endless stomach here. I just ducked in here to avoid someone I don't like. Never saw it before myself, but then I usually only go to the Reploid Room when I'm in San An."

"Hey! I'm not eating ALL the time!" Hien says, on finishing his hamburger. This is made ironic by the fact he almost immediately eyes the menu again, jingling the new change in his pocket. At last, though, he decides he's no longer hungry and glances over at Feste. "It's not bad. The burgers are better than the malts, which is kind of weird." Trust Hien to gravitate to the grease; it's not like he doesn't burn it off. "Hey, so. Maybe you've already met him." ooo spooky

"The Reploid Room, hm? Good pool hall and wings," Feste idly comments, with a pointed but brief look at Hien. Hm! "Burgers and-- malts? Must be an American thing," he continues, smirking. "I'll have to try one. Mind if I sit down? And maybe I have. I'll have to stalk him and make sure."

Rigger glances towards the counter a moment thoughtfully at the mention of such foods. "Very American," she agrees with a wistful sigh. It wasn't a secret she had been born in America after all--She just worked in Japan. Her fingers twitch a moment in a light scratch over the side of her neck just below her ear, sending her hair wiggling about, as she thinks. "Might try a malt myself. Haven't had one in ages."

BN has left.

"Dancing's better than either of them, if you're looking at the Room," Hien opines, then pauses, tilting his head to one side. That is the manner of somebody with a cochlear radio, and the frown shows that whatever the news is, it's not good. "Aww man," he mutters to himself. "Look, I'll see you both later." He tips a hand to Feste and Rigger, adding to the former: "It's been good seeing you, F--it has." Then he offers them both a congenial smile, and heads to the door unhurriedly. Something must've come up.

F lifts a finger to put his order in, and then stops to peer at Hien. He looks like a bird, how silly, cocking his head to the side like that-- but ah, what's this in his own ears? Poor Hien, with a job that calls him away. Oh well.

The Fool nods, taking in the smile and the words with an odd... sincerity of feeling on his own face, in his own return smile. "Likewise. Don't be a stranger, my boy," he replies, flashing teeth. "Now... malts? What should I get, Rigger?"

Rigger looks between the pair a moment somewhat curiously, though she merely nods as Hien heads out. Feste's question brings her back to the moment though. "I don't know," she admits while looking the motley fellow over. "Something fruity. Or overly chocolatey."

Hien has disconnected.

What? Nothing suspicious here! No sir. Not at all. What a preposterous idea.

The Fool, meanwhile, is caught up in his menu again. "Fruity, chocolatey, hm. I think I'll go with the latter," says he, and then does that very thing. "Why do they call it a malt, anyway? Strange word."

"Because it has malt in it," Rigger responds with a small shake of her head. "It's... Like rather strong, sweet cream. A chocolate malt is a classic; you'll do well by it." She grins broadly while gesturing for Feste to lead the way to the icecream counter.

"Oh." Yeah, that explains a lot. F shrugs merrily and heads toward the ice cream counter to place his order -- "one chocolate malt, please." He leans on said counter and turns slightly, waiting until Rigger's placed her own order before striking up conversation again. "So. How are you? Faring better than the last time we spoke, I hope."

"The same." Apparently talk of the good old traditional was enough to sway Rigger's decision. She waits as well for them to be made, which she knows will take a short while, and offers up a slight shrug. "A bit, though nothing in that regard has changed any."

The Fool frowns -- not quite so sincere as the smile he gave Hien, but heartfelt all the same. "Aw, that's unfortunate, my dear. Anything I can do for you, mayhap?"

Rigger leans her elbows against the counter while merely staring at Feste a moment. A smirk emerges, and a single eyebrow lifts to regard him with a gaze that slowly sweeps from head to toe. "That an offer?" Her voice croons out teasingly, and a sly wink follows. "Otherwise, I think not. I don't do the whole dating thing."

Feste looks at Rigger, trying very hard to keep a straight face, a fact that is almost comically obvious. It fails and falls, light-hearted chuckles shattering the illusion of seriousness. He can't help himself. "Oh, oh, I am afraid I think I'm-- spoken for, but... anything to cheer up a lady, hmmm?" He chuckles again, grinning. "Could you even bring yourself to date a man who wears motley and facepaint?”

Rigger glances over the counter to reach out and accept the glass offered over. Feste's own is lain on the counter as well. "I wouldn't know. My own dates usually are homicidal maniacs who I have no interest in dating to begin with and do so only under duress... So perhaps it would be an interesting change." She takes a slow sip of her malt before adding, "And I know you're spoken for. Though he did offer once as well... Long time ago. I think he was trying to shock me."

Feste nods, reaching for his malt. He listens quietly, and then offers Rigger -- an honest look. "Sounds like something he would do." He sips idly. "I, ah... well, I'm not homicidal. That much I can guarantee." He grins.

"Well, it's alright. I have the boys now and they keep me busy enough." Rigger looks back to her drink. The straw is grasped, and she begins to stir the contents up idly. A bit of whipped cream on the top is swirled in with the rest before she releases it to pluck off the cherry by it's stem. It's offered out towards Feste simply. "Want my cherry? I hate them."

The boys? Feste is tempted to ask, so tempted... but then, he's heard of Riggerbots, so maybe that's what she means. Ah well; he'll save it for another conversation, because -- cherry! "Yes please," he chirps.

Rigger relinquishes the cherry to Feste's tender devices by plopping it atop his own malt. "Have at. Never could stand maraschinos. Too sickly sweet. It's a perversion upon the fruit."

"Foo," Feste proclaims. "I like them for the very same reason. Well, not the perversion part. The sweetness." He takes both cherries and, in one fell swoop, bites them off the stem. "Mm. Thank you," he says, around a mouthful of cherry.