Summary:Pris and Kate meet up at a bar in upstate New york. They get to talking about mutal interests and consider playing a game of pool. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The trip upstate was a provisional success. Priscilla was able to find the site of the exchange, and able to take out two agents at the scene. She got more information, including a lead that may get her much closer to a functioning cell of dire wraiths on the planet. It was a good evening. But she still needs fuel for the motorcycle, and for her own body, which is why she has landed, changed back to civilian garb, put most of her weapons away in the hide of the chasis, and come riding in to a truck stop on the highway, still at least two hours outside New York City. Getting the night off was not easy, but she managed to get someone else to stand in for her shifts, and this was worth it.
Hungry, the mocha-skinned woman pulls her purple-accented Ducati (or at least that's what it looks like) into the truck stop's parking lot and parks in half a space in front of the diner, pushing down the kickstand. The purple-accented black leather jacket and the bright purple full-face helmet with two large gold-accented jade green coiled dragons, one along each side, make her presentation pretty distinctive, and that's before one notices the curves she sports in those painted-on boot-cut jeans. She takes a deep breath and looks around the parking lot once, then twice before reaching up to pull the helmet off her head, tossing back the curling mass of long ebon ringlets and heads for the front door.
Kate's red and black superbike is not too far away. It draws attention even on a casual glance, a marvel of engineering sleek enough to ride like a bullet. It's enough to bear a second look. Or a third. Inside of the actual bar the place is a little dark, with wooden floors and an unfinished bar that are explicitly chosen to give the place a rough and tumble appearance that isn't quite in keeping with how neat and clean it is.
One might call it a manufactured biker bar. Or a tourist trap. Either being the case, there are a bunch of men, some relatively rowdy and others politely drinking, gathered about the place. The obligatory pool tables dominate one corner to the left othe bar, while the other half of the rtoom is largely tables. Televisions hang to ensure no one here misses the big game while they visit.
A few women are here, but they're accompanied for the most part. The tall, muscular redhead is notable for the fact that she is currently running one of those pool tables as the muscleblound blonde man across form her becomes increasingly irate.
"Six, corner pocket," Kate murmurs as she readies her cue. The clack of balls striking one another follows. By this point, the man in question is turning red while a slimmer, darker haired fellow to his left is laughing softlly.
The mixed-race mocha-skinned woman comes through the door into the bar and her eyes adjust quickly to the darkened interior, sweeping side to side. Outwardly, Pris would look like any casual biker girl, but her mannerisms are a mite off for that; she stays balanced and centered with her back to the wall rather than the door, and she sweeps the place visually twice before she moves again, the bright purple helmet with its distinctive coiled dragons on the sides held loosely in her left hand. Picking out visually the only seemingly unescorted woman in the place other than staff, Pris' purple eyes lock on Kate for a few even as she strolls towards the bar, leaning against it as she watches Kate more than the bartender … even though she speaks to him as soon as he arrives at her end, never looking away.
"Evening." Pris murmurs. "Kitchen still open?" Once she receives confirmation, she asks for a bacon cheeseburger with a side of onion rings, and a tall lager. She then digs out and slides over a twenty from her back pocket, and nods towards the pool tables. "I'll be over that way, if you don't mind." Pris doesn't come over and lean over the pool tables; instead, she just scoots to the point on the bar closest to them and stops, then twists one of the stools around and climbs up on it, watching the game play out without further comment. She can feel the emotions rolling off of the folks over there, and knows the redhead figures she has all of this handled despite how upset that fellow is; she's just watching to make sure it plays out that way, really.
Surrounded by friends who seem to find his distress hilarious it seems unlikel y the man is going to escalate. Her,e at least. After awhile he slumps his shoulders and, still red, hands the redhead a $20. She promptly holds it up and announces, "Drinks for all three of you on our friend. Thank you so much." Laughing soflty as she walks away, Kate puts the $20 down on the bar to cover the beers she'd just purchased before turning slightl. She flashes the dark-skinned woman who had been watching the conclusion of the game a quick smile as she turns to face her.
"Hello. I don't think we've met before. I'm Kat,e" the woman introduces herself without a hint of hesitation. That slow smile starts to become a sly, almost infectiously self-confident grin. The redhead, six feet tall in total, walks over in Pris's direction. "Enjoy the game?" It's just that, really. Kate stops a couple meters off, but the way she's positioned herself leaves no question that Priscille has her full attention.
Pris turns to watch Kate, smiling an equally confident smile of her own. She is barely shorter than Kate, but the heels on her boots put her likely two inches taller. Where Kate is visibly muscular, Priscilla is visibly curvaceous, what many would call 'a body built for sin'. And while she is fully clothed, she has made little effort to disguise that fact and none to downplay it.
"Hi, Kate." the mocha-skinned woman offers. "I don't think we've quite met before either." Though it's more than they were never introduced; there's a sense of the confident familiarity in her mannerisms with Kate, like she has seen her around and knows of her, even if they've never been introduced. And her markings would be hard to forget, and Kate far too observant a woman not to recognize them. "I enjoyed watching you finish the game. Maybe after a bit, we can take a spin around the table together?"
"'Quite met'? I see my reputation proceedi me." Kate's smile doesn't waver, however, and she seems not to mind this in the slightest. That sounds nice," Kate replies, nodding. "Soon as you're done eating?" She reaches out and takeso ne of the beers being served up without really looking, her attention firmly affixed to the woman in front of her. The redhead seems content to wait for the moment, setling back against the bar. "Maybe you could show me your bike afterward?"
"Maybe a little." Pris offers with a warm smile for the redhead. "Sure." she answers Kate, turning slight as the beers arrive to take her own, sipping slowly, deeply as she watches Kate over the edge of her mug. "Mmm. Sure. I could do that. I'd love to take a look at yours, too, if we're sharing."
If Kate has ever seen Voodoo perform, she might be aware of just how salaciously entrancing the woman can be, but she's not putting it out nearly that forcefully tonight. Instead, she's keeping things low-key, but very directed: Kate is her sole interest, it seems. Priscilla's purple eyes make contact with Kate's gaze again. "I'm Priscilla, by the way. My friends call me Pris."
"It's nice to finally meet you, Pris. And it's a deal, by the way. I hsow you mine, you show me yours." Ther'es a soft laugh behind those words as she studies her companion's reaction to those words. Rather than say anything more Kate takes the opportunity to sip on her beer while looking Pris over purposefully, from head to toe and then back.
"Looks like your burger's up," the woman observes as the food is being laid out, steaming hot, on the side of the bar. "I'll be here when you finish."
There's a definite glint of pleased amusement in Priscilla's features at Kate's chosen turn of phrase, and a quirked smile that isn't far from true laughter. "I'm looking forward to that." Pris definitely makes no attempt to hide, and in fact makes a point of displaying herself before Kate's interested gaze.
Once her food arrives, Pris thanks the bar back, then sets to eating neatly but hungrily; her neatness seems more an effort not to wear her food than any inherent prissiness. Besides, what could be less flirty than splattering oneself with greasy food in front of one's object of flirtation?
Still, Pris carries on a slow conversation with the redhead while she eats. "So, what brought you out riding alone this holiday weekend? Just had to get away? Or did you have a real destination in mind?"
"I was visiting my cousin," Kate replies quietly. She takes a deep breath and holds it for a couple of beats, content to watch while Pris is eating her meal. "You? Youre from the city, right? What dragged you out all this way?"
Kate will reach over and, if Pris doesn't look thoroughly scandalized by the idea, steal an onion ring from the dancer's plate, putting on a sly smile as she does.
Pris' accent is very clearly not New York, but somewhere much farther south. Whether Kate would actually recognize a Baton Rouge Parish accent or not, that's what Pris carries with her, except when trying to hide. "I'm not actually from the City, but that is where I've been staying recently." she admits to Kate. "I got offered a one-night gig over the border in Niagra, and now I'm on my way back." It's not entirely untrue, just a liberal stretching of facts.
Pris doesn't seem scandalized by the theft of an onion ring; in fact, she even scoots over the little bowl in which she is keeping her ketchup for dipping the rings, so it's in easier reach of the redhead. "Good time to visit family, a four day weekend sort of thing."
"Exactly," Kate agrees as she dips her onion ring before taking a bite. She is taking her time, clearly more interested in passing the time than actually swiping Priscilla's dinner. "Gig went well, I hope? What were you up to there to do?"
Pris grins and nibbles on her burger as they share. "Mmm. Good enough. I'm a dancer." It's not quite accurate; she is a dancer, definitely, but she wasn't up in Niagara to dance. "Hope your visit with your cousin went well?" she questions.
"She's my cousin. I took her out to a movie." Kate shrugs at that, but she's on the verge of laughter regardless. "It was great. Thank you." Another onion ring disappears slowly. "I danced in school for a bit. But really, I sing a little. My grand contribution to the performing arts." She gestures with half an onion ring to emphasize her words. "Ready to play a game? Or we could check out the bikes first. Your choice."
Pris finishes her burger, her last few inion rings - the ones Kate doesn't eat - and finishes her second beer. "Sure. Let's play that game. The bikes aren't going anywhere until we do, after all."
That said, Pris dismounts her bar stool and approaches the pool table, carrying her helmet with her and setting it down on a chair. Then she slides off her leather jacket, revealing the off-white t-shirt she is wearing underneath, with black stylized letters reading, 'Obsidian' across the front, stretched over those bountiful curves. "Hi, guys. Mind if we play through?" she asks, eyeing the males assembled. She picks up one of hte cues and runs her fingers over it, testing it out for straightness and smooth surface.