[Angel leans against the bar top rather than sits. He tells himself it's so he doesn't have to crane his neck to look down at her.]
'Bout the same. [There's not much point in lying about that, but he feels pleased to be paired up with someone without as much experience. Means he might be able to get away with more.]
I know I'm cute and fluffy, but I ain't your pet. [He's on one person's leash and he's not about to find himself tethered to another now that he's gotten away.]
You sure? 'cos you're giving me A-grade bitch right now.
[It's wry, not cutting. She's aware she's giving as good as she gets, and if he's going to give then he's going to fucking get.]
I'm here to make sure no-one fucks with you. Alright? And if anyone tries, they go through me if they want anything from you. You're here for a bigger reason than I am, so I'm gonna work with you.
[Respect's a two-way street. The smirk makes her let up a little with a lopsided little smile of her own.]
You're a strong independent woman that don't need no man, got it. But - just maybe - you're not gonna want to get your hands dirty. Maybe someone is being a jackass and you just... don't want to deal with it.
Yah know, this is soundin' a lot whole like my pimp's pitch... [He says it with such a casual expression it's hard to tell if he's joking, and he sips at his drink while he lets her wonder.]
[He smirks at the reaction, all the more determined to keep her guessing. Back home there's not a fuck this side of Pride that doesn't know his face or Val's. It's not the sort of game he gets to play often.]
[Now the stoic face is because she's trying to hold back a smile of her own.
She checked with the Admiral. It'll be fine. But the hesitation she has when she goes to unholster the heavy-looking pistol on her right hip is real, even as she flips it around, holding the barrel by its strange blocky squares to offer the butt to Angel.]
[Oh wow. Angel's face lights up as though she's pulled out a kitten and not a big ass gun. There's practically hearts in his eyes, and he eagerly takes it, inspecting it with hands that are clearly not unfamiliar with holding a weapon, checking it's workings and looking puzzled over its strange build and weight. It's a moment before he finally fixes her with a suspicious glance.]
Prove it like I can borrow the thing, or prove it like shoot someone?
[It looks like the bastard child of a six-shooter and a pistol, with no hammer for the obvious cylinder, blocky and dense.
And immediately Jesse feels a little bit mean about giving it to him, with the way he lights the fuck up.]
Prove to me that you can handle things without it if something comes up, and maybe we can talk about getting you your own.
[She reaches into her leather jacket and pulls out an ID card: it's obviously government, some federal-looking logo, but the picture on it is of Angel: a formal looking passport photo, with Department: The Lounge printed on it.]
I can find you with this, if you're screwing around. But if you start threatening people with it, I'm making sure your next warden knows you've lost your gun license. Fair?
[It's nothing like his preferred Thompsons, or Val's bedazzled babies, but it's unique enough that Angel's intrigued.]
Sounds a little like you're encouraging me ta go lookin' for a fight?
[Prove he can be a good boy. Not shoot some fuck in the face. He can handle that. Probably.
He frowns at the ID card, not loving the idea of this thing tracking him, but he guesses it's not all that different from Vox's cameras keeping an eye on him to report back to Val.]
You're either real confident or real stupid to hand me this before yah know what sorta person I am. [Rather than point the real gun he points his fingers in a mock gun shape, pointed right at Jesse. Could've blown her away just for fun if he wanted to. He thinks at least.]
...Fair. But go easy on the stalking, mm? Yah might walk in on somethin' yah don' wanna see.
Foster parents, actually. Granted, I didn't actually stick around to see if they'd follow through, but it's not a bad principle. People will say all sort of shit to your face and then do the opposite behind your back. I wanna see you prove you can handle it.
[Angel shifts his weight and sets the gun on the bar top, taking a long gulp of his drink.]
I still don' see why your opinion of me s'posed to matter. I know what I can handle. And I only play good boy for people who pay. I ain't gonna change my behavior for you one way or the other.
I mean, it's probably not. I'm definitely not paying. But your opinion of you matters. [She tilts his bottle at him.] And given your circumstances, I don't think it's as pretty as your outfit.
[...well that is a hell of an accurate read, and it makes Angel stiffen, that mask not quite so sure and his eyes narrowing.]
The fuck is that supposed to mean? You don' know shit about me, bitch. I'm Angel Dust. There's not a demon in hell that don't want me. I know what I'm fuckin' worth. [He spits angrily, more mad that she's right than anything. His worth has shit all to do with his actual opinion of himself.]
[She is certainly not cowed, and stares back at him with even defiance.]
I don't give a shit about your reputation. You basically just said your pimp kills people for you. That doesn't sound good - that sounds like he's making sure his investment doesn't get damaged, not that he cares about you as a person. I've heard that fucks you up pretty good.
[She watches him with that deliberate impassive expression. If she gives him an inch, in letting him see her sympathise or freak out, he'll push harder and try to take the mile. She knows his type.
I'm not letting anyone push me around. Not even you, Angel. Sorry.
[He flips her off with of 3 of his 4 (current) hands, the 4th reaching back to claim the stupid gun from the table before he stalks off, heels clicking loudly.]
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'Bout the same. [There's not much point in lying about that, but he feels pleased to be paired up with someone without as much experience. Means he might be able to get away with more.]
I know I'm cute and fluffy, but I ain't your pet. [He's on one person's leash and he's not about to find himself tethered to another now that he's gotten away.]
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[It's wry, not cutting. She's aware she's giving as good as she gets, and if he's going to give then he's going to fucking get.]
I'm here to make sure no-one fucks with you. Alright? And if anyone tries, they go through me if they want anything from you. You're here for a bigger reason than I am, so I'm gonna work with you.
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Aw, you should see me when I get goin', this ain't nothin'.
[He looks her over pointedly, not exactly sure what sort of protection she's supposed to offer if he even needed it.]
I can get my hands dirty all on my own, I don' need yah for that.
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You're a strong independent woman that don't need no man, got it. But - just maybe - you're not gonna want to get your hands dirty. Maybe someone is being a jackass and you just... don't want to deal with it.
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[But it can't be that easy.]
Yah know, this is soundin' a lot whole like my pimp's pitch... [He says it with such a casual expression it's hard to tell if he's joking, and he sips at his drink while he lets her wonder.]
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If he's trying to get a rise out of me, it's a good line. If he's serious, then... that's not a pretty picture.]
Just because mine gave me a gun, doesn't mean I'm gonna kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Seems like a good way to get demoted fast.
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Lemme' borrow it, easy~ No blood on your hands.
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She checked with the Admiral. It'll be fine. But the hesitation she has when she goes to unholster the heavy-looking pistol on her right hip is real, even as she flips it around, holding the barrel by its strange blocky squares to offer the butt to Angel.]
Alright. Prove it.
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Prove it like I can borrow the thing, or prove it like shoot someone?
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And immediately Jesse feels a little bit mean about giving it to him, with the way he lights the fuck up.]
Prove to me that you can handle things without it if something comes up, and maybe we can talk about getting you your own.
[She reaches into her leather jacket and pulls out an ID card: it's obviously government, some federal-looking logo, but the picture on it is of Angel: a formal looking passport photo, with Department: The Lounge printed on it.]
I can find you with this, if you're screwing around. But if you start threatening people with it, I'm making sure your next warden knows you've lost your gun license. Fair?
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Sounds a little like you're encouraging me ta go lookin' for a fight?
[Prove he can be a good boy. Not shoot some fuck in the face. He can handle that. Probably.
He frowns at the ID card, not loving the idea of this thing tracking him, but he guesses it's not all that different from Vox's cameras keeping an eye on him to report back to Val.]
You're either real confident or real stupid to hand me this before yah know what sorta person I am. [Rather than point the real gun he points his fingers in a mock gun shape, pointed right at Jesse. Could've blown her away just for fun if he wanted to. He thinks at least.]
...Fair. But go easy on the stalking, mm? Yah might walk in on somethin' yah don' wanna see.
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[Vaggie said you're not the "running around stabbing" kind of inmate. I'm holding her to that.
She shrugs, tipping her drink in acknowledgement before she takes a sip.]
Only one way to find out. I like to give people the chance to prove themselves - what you do with that is all on you.
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[He does enjoy the occasional turf war though...
He makes a face at the overly moral view point. It's like he never left the hotel at all.]
What inspirational movie did yah steal that line from?
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I still don' see why your opinion of me s'posed to matter. I know what I can handle. And I only play good boy for people who pay. I ain't gonna change my behavior for you one way or the other.
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The fuck is that supposed to mean? You don' know shit about me, bitch. I'm Angel Dust. There's not a demon in hell that don't want me. I know what I'm fuckin' worth. [He spits angrily, more mad that she's right than anything. His worth has shit all to do with his actual opinion of himself.]
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I don't give a shit about your reputation. You basically just said your pimp kills people for you. That doesn't sound good - that sounds like he's making sure his investment doesn't get damaged, not that he cares about you as a person. I've heard that fucks you up pretty good.
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I don' gotta deal with shit.
[Avoidance is much easier. He slams back what's left of his drink and pushes away from the bar.]
I'm fuckin' done.
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I'm not letting anyone push me around. Not even you, Angel. Sorry.
Instead she just takes another swig of her beer.]
Thanks for hearing me out.
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