IC contact for maskormenace

[devoutish]

You've reached Alfie Solomons. Leave your name and state your business.

Alfie can be reached via the imPort network, or via a home phone and answering machine. He does have a cell phone, but it's not publicly available.

Comments

[trouvaille]

The worst kind.

( the lucky kind; no one died extricating decimus when he ventured out of his depth, he just can't go to certain parts of italy any more and septimus has a cool gunshot scar on his shoulder, it's totally fine.

as for her, though, a little huff of air that's not disagreement, but.

there's always a but. )

I always intend to do that.

( not get into trouble. )

[devoutish]

Then why did you want to come meet me?

[He starts to walk, finally, but not like he's walking away from her and the conversation. He's slow and ambling - just taking a stroll, and expecting her to come along.]

[trouvaille]

( putin starts moving first; pauses, looks up at gwen, who - does join him. them. everybody's strolling, it's a nice little walk in the park in a seedy city with a strange man. )

Because all that really comes of keeping your head down and quietly going about your business is being utterly fucked when it all goes tits up and you weren't at all prepared.

( she intends to be somewhat prepared. )

[devoutish]

Mm. Nothing else, then, besides feeling me out?

[trouvaille]

( oh, well.

there's a thoughtful pause. gwen puts her free hand at his elbow, ladylike, and sufficiently considerate that it's not the arm attached to the hand holding a cane. )

I'm not falling into that talk about having feelings bullshit again.

( "no dipshit you're good company." )

[devoutish]

[Except putting it that way makes it clear that there is feelings bullshit involved.]

So you weren't joking about looking for a friend.

[trouvaille]

( if she really didn't want to admit it, she didn't have to, but she doesn't have to admit it nicely, not the girl whose declarations of love for people tend to at some point involve the phrases 'fuck you' and 'so there'. )

You know, I'm a nice person. People like me.

( one of those things is (inexplicably) true. )

[devoutish]

Do many nice people swear like fucking soldiers the way you do?

[He's just saying.]

[trouvaille]

( gwen considers that, very seriously. )

Everyone who's been nice to me.

[devoutish]

Well, then.

[He's hiding a smile, though.]

[trouvaille]

I can stop swearing any time I please, you know, I'm very charming when I want to be -

( but it's very tiring and boring and she only likes to do it when there's something in it for her. 'people liking the wrong version of her' is just not enough of an incentive, most of the time.

unless they're people she'd really like to approve of her, but that always seems to end in tears. )

I'd charm your socks off.

[devoutish]

Oh, I don't charm easily. Not easily manipulated, me.

[trouvaille]

( she leans to examine him critically. putin takes the opportunity to also do so, in case it's because he's going to do something interesting. )

No, ( decided, breezy, ) you're charmed.

[devoutish]

[He bulges his eyes at her, jokingly.]

Nah.

[trouvaille]

Yes.

( she can do this all day. )

Came out to go for a walk with me and everything. Very charmed.

[devoutish]

Didn't you know, I'm here for the big fuck-off dog.

[trouvaille]

Didn't know there was going to be one!

( there is some triumphant pointing, a hair shy of 'directly under his nose'. putin, who is often greeted when gwen gets home with the enthusiastically delivered dog dog dog dog dog, correctly interprets all of this as About Him and wags his tail. )

I'll still take that. He's charming, too. You're a charming dog, Putin.

( his tail thuds in such a way as it could probably dislodge birds from trees. )

[devoutish]

And you're a hair's breath from being irritating.

[That's said to Gwen, while he gives the dog a quick pat on the head.]

Picked a Russian name, I see.

[trouvaille]

( there's a bit of tongue-lolling. what a good human.

gwen keeps her finger to herself, but otherwise; undeterred. she mutters endearingly under her breath. )

He's half Russian. And half Hollywood. So Putin Onaritz.

[devoutish]

[Ew, dog saliva. Alfie pulls his hand away before he can get licked.]

I've got a dog at home. Lives in my warehouse.

[trouvaille]

I'd never had pets before. Or spent much time with animals, honestly, until Hasibe got Putin's dad, Huan.

( putin has an alarming amount of tongue, so it may be wise to stay out of immediate range of it. he seems content to amble alongside, in any case. )

A particular sort of dog?

[devoutish]

Smaller than this one. Blond. Mixed breed, I think.

[trouvaille]

( most dogs, in all fairness, are somewhat smaller than putin and huan. it's also fair that gwen has never spent significant time around dogs smaller than that, and knows them mostly from youtube clips that she's been sent by friends drunk and crying late at night.

(the correct time to be watching lots of clips of dogs being dogs.) )

Is he a working dog, or just - company? Or a he, even.

[devoutish]

Yeah, he's a he. He's more company than anything, I suppose. My assistant, my second-hand man - he loves him. He's supposed to be something of a guard dog, but I can't rightly say he'd attack a man for breaking in. Barking, maybe.

[trouvaille]

Putin's a fairly good one. And I get whistled at a lot less when I go running, now.

( yeah, imagine that, with this big baby off the leash and running beside her. )