Original character who's having a series of bad days.

[plusonesecond]

Let's summarize:

I'm an overworked, underpaid SWAT cop, who's already lost one arm, who for whatever reason you decided to let have a motocross accident that landed me in the hospital with a concussion and various flesh wounds.

My alleged boyfriend, who has never actually taken me on a date, didn't come by to see how I was doing, but I haven't even seen him in three weeks, although that's not really anyone's fault since his mun has the flu or something.

In fact, the only person who visited me was my brother, which was a given since he's my brother.

So since I have no friends and right now no boss, you've sent me back out on the warpath to find and shoot the bastard who caused me to have my arm amputated, and I've already gotten into one fistfight.

I think it's perfectly normal that I'm feeling lonely, upset and in need of a drink.

Comments

[undisguised]

[... Normally, Wilko doesn't do this. This... "tagging" thing.

But, hell. All it takes is one glance at his right arm to see that it's gleaming metallic, entirely cybernetic, and he isn't bothering to hide it.

He doesn't even say anything. He just reaches over and pours a shot of whiskey.

[plusonesecond]

[That surprises Anna, who thought she was mostly kvetching into a void. She glances at it, then at him, and flashes a small thank-you smile before she downs it. It's that kind of night.]

[undisguised]

[He just nods. It's not like he doesn't understand.

He lifts the bottle in a wordless offer to pour her another.]

[plusonesecond]

Please. And thank you.

[undisguised]

[He refills the glass.] Welcome.

[plusonesecond]

How's your night? Morning? Whatever it is now.

[undisguised]

Morning, technically. Doing alright. Lucky.

[plusonesecond]

I'm hoping my luck looks up eventually.

[undisguised]

Hard to say. [Wilko's not the sort to sugarcoat anything.] But there's nothing to do but to push through.

[plusonesecond]

I'd like to think my mun will show a little mercy eventually.

[undisguised]

Sometimes things happen. [Can't always place the blame on someone else, even a mun. No, it's not a nice or easy thing to hear, but it's the truth.]

[plusonesecond]

This many. In succession like this. Is pushing it.

I did meet a nice guy though.

[undisguised]

[o look finally put some info in his profile]

Shit happens. [As blunt as it's said, it isn't coldly spoken. Just stated as fact.

... yeah he's got nothing about the nice guy, though.]

[plusonesecond]

Well aren't we both fucking cheerful.

[undisguised]

[Wilko just raises an eyebrow and pours her another glass.]

[plusonesecond]

I was being funny.

[She'll go back to drinking.]

[undisguised]

[That is his happy face.]

Mmhmm.

[plusonesecond]

Right. So. Should we exchange names or just complaints?

[undisguised]

Macourek, Wilko.

[plusonesecond]

Anna Stafford. Thanks for the drinks.

[undisguised]

Don't mention it. [A pause before he decides to behave and externalize his thoughts for once.] Been there myself.

[plusonesecond]

Yeah? How'd you get past it?

[undisguised]

Kept busy. Ran until I was chasing my own tail. Facing it's the only thing that set things right.

[plusonesecond]

Yeah...

It'll sound sappy, but underneath my tough-cop exterior, there's a part of me that just wants to fall in love and take a break from all this shit.

[undisguised]

[At that, Wilko shifts a little. His expression doesn't change, save for a slight furrow in his brow, so it's hard to tell if he's uncomfortable or if he just needed to adjust the way he's sitting.]

Hope it works out for you. [Said more awkwardly than the rest of the conversation. He doesn't really know what to say to that, or how to react to the idea.]

[plusonesecond]

Yeah, I know, it's lame.

[undisguised]

[eyebrow inches up again] Never said that.

[plusonesecond]

Just not your ideal topic of conversation?

[undisguised]

Not exactly. [a beat] Not the best person to talk to about it.

[plusonesecond]

I'll save it for another time then. Anyway. I'm just hoping to improve things and maybe make more than one friend while I'm at it.

[undisguised]

[oh honey talking about your love life to the MY WIFE IS DEEEAAAAD dude is not the way to make friends with him

anyway his eyebrow is continuing to inch up his forehead] Sorry for any wrong impressions. Not usually one for lengthy conversation. [pause] Not averse to listening, if it'd help. Just can't guarantee an exchange of witty repartee.

[plusonesecond]

It's fine. I'm not usually one for sharing. I just sort of exploded.

[undisguised]

It happens. [half-shrug] Better to direct the blast.

[plusonesecond]

This is why my mun generally only lets me out when my boss is around. Ha.

What is it you do?

[undisguised]

Mercenary work. So, whatever needs done.

[plusonesecond]

I'm with SWAT myself. We're the people that get called when it's FUBAR.

[undisguised]

[He actually appreciates that explanation more than one might typically expect. Not being from a modern Earth setting...]

We usually clean up our own messes. [... sort of. they try, anyway]

[plusonesecond]

Which I'm sure the people around you vastly appreciate.

[undisguised]

The people we work for generally do. [the people around them, on the other hand, tend to be the poor suckers who get stuck actually dealing with it as it happens]

[plusonesecond]

Efficiency is underrated in my opinion. Then again I deal with a lot of bureaucracy.

[undisguised]

[He actually makes a face at that. Eugh. Bureaucracy.] More hassle than it's worth.

[plusonesecond]

Tell me about it. Every time shots get fired I have a report.