capthepoint | Open RP Thread

Open RP Thread - Sunrise, Sunset

Who: Civilian, Open
Where: Upgrade Station Central
When: Sundown, early April-ish
What: Work's all done for the day, and no robots in sight. Civy spends a few moments being Civy.

There came a moment late one day, when the sun had grown as red as clay and started to melt slowly away beyond the horizon, when the Civilian remarked silently to himself that this area really was not so awful. Seated up on the roof of his little 'office' building, his long legs messily draped over the edge, his thoughts turned towards the natural beauty of the desert scene just beyond the outskirts of the town - from his lofty perch, he could see it quite well. With the glare of the day steadily falling, it was easier then to take it all in, but still utterly impossible to truly capture its essence with ordinary eyes. How it captured his imagination with its unspoiled and unblemished allure, the rising columns of crimson stone and the coarse, golden sea that stretched endlessly. How the sense of admiration took hold of him, with its untamed and raw spirit; one needed to be of sterner stuff to peacefully coexist with such unforgiving lands, and there existed a strange, almost heroic sense to the idea. So far removed from the luxuries and activity of the city, surrounded on all sides by a world that needed to be bended and shaped by force, he could not help but laud the men and women who had taken up this challenge in decades prior. As the chill of dusk just began to emerge, there existed a fleeting moment in time in which the sun, making one last grasp at the world, washed across every natural feature and stretched each shadow out to its fullest, and it was at that moment that the Civilian musingly thought that this might not be such a terrible place to settle one day, if his roots never dug in elsewhere.

Of course, it was in the moment directly following that one that he realized how anyone else would likely call him crazy should he ever admit to having such thoughts. It should never be spoken aloud to anyone, ever, he decided promptly.

Others might have thought it equally strange, under normal circumstances, that the Civilian would have such idle time on his hands. That day was different, however, as the base was fully repaired, and there had not been an attack all day - or even across the past few days, in fact. As if the mechanized Grey army was elsewhere occupied, Coaltown had not seen a single enemy for the entire stretch of time; not even the occasional robo-Scout that had gotten separated during a previous battle and wandered through.

And so the Civilian had been allowed enough time to pursue other things. To catch up on his reading, to straighten up the Upgrade Station, and even to do a little amateurish painting inside his office, splattering a bit of color on a canvas until a crude image took the shape of a desert landscape thereon. He even had time to spare for the other mercenaries...should they ever happen by.

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Civilian might have been enjoying the respite from attack, but Spy was among those who found it unsettling. Every day that passed without incident was one they spent anticipating it. The tension was mild, but ever-present and there was not much to distract from it. As it was, Spy decided a walk was in order. It was too early to visit Engineer (he liked consistency, she found), but there was still some time before whoever chose to cook this evening would be finished with dinner. She could busy herself checking for Spybots she was certain wouldn't be there.

It didn't take her long to make her way to the back of the base. She had been right; there were no Spybots. Seeing Civilian's outline perched on the roof of his shop, though, she concluded that she wasn't the only one left idle without any robotic assaults to tend to.

She waved up at him from the ground near the vault, to see if he had seen her or if he was just staring off into the distance.

Civilian's attention may have been mostly focused on the horizon, but his peripheral field was still able to pick up on movement from the ground, not to mention being completely uninterrupted from his roost. He'd caught glimpses of Miss Spy as she, through her diligence, prowled the perimeter. She occasionally left his sight behind various obstacles, but the closer she came to the base itself, the less she had to 'hide' behind.

He waved in return. She could see him on her approach looking rather happy, smiling in a nostalgic, dopey sort of way. As if he hadn't a single concrete thought in his head. The sun had finally set, though, and the mood was disappearing.

"Find anything?" he asked aloud, raising his voice slightly.

"Non," Spy replied. She wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed about it. But no matter.

"What are you doing up there? Did you run out of forms to fill out?"

Cheeky little thing. He smirked in response, his gaze calm and his chin tilted up loftily.

"Is that what you think of me? Nothing more than a man with a pen grafted to my fingers?" he asked, adding a lilt to the end of his words. Certainly, he wasn't devoid of humor - even more evident when he added, "I'd prove you wrong, but that would mean submitting a 'Harsh Lesson' form in triplicate. That could take weeks."

With a light kick with his legs, the Civilian pushed himself off of his perch and leapt down suddenly. His landing was amazingly gentle, despite the modest fall, and then he strode up to the barbed young lady.

"No, I am simply enjoying the view. There is more to life than work - or have I not said that enough by now?" he said, turning his head briefly back towards the west, where the clouds were still tinted with an orange glow.

"It is easy to forget when one lives at work," Spy said, her tone cheerfully apologetic. It was especially easy to forget when there was no proper ceasefire.

"But non, I did imagine that you must have to stop to eat once in a while. Have you eaten yet?" If Soldier was cooking, he would probably be finishing up by now. If Sid was... well, Spy wasn't going to think about that.

Raising his arms high over his head, Civy clasped his hands together and began to stretch his lean limbs, apparently trying to iron out some sense of stiffness incurred from sitting lazily about as he had. His features tensed as he did, conveying a degree of both pain and satisfaction.

At her question, he smiled. "I have, in fact, and I enjoyed it so much that I've made it a regular thing."

Civy's arms fell. He began to stretch out his back next, arching it gently backwards with his hands on his hips.

"...but if you mean tonight, then no. I have not had the chance," he added. "...are you asking me to join you, perhaps?"

"Not unless you are able to read minds," Spy said. She watched his stretching display with veiled amusement. Way casual, Civilian. "But since you have not eaten, it would give you a fine excuse to walk me back to the common room. In case I have missed a spot in my walk up here."

Chuckling, he shook his head lightly - he looked as if he was failing, from his laughter, to show a sense of disappointment in her dodging answer. He certainly wished he could read minds, as it would make certain aspects of his normal profession all the more easy.

"Mais, bien sûr," he said, finally sounding more like a Toulouse native; the rustic accent did tend to slip out from time to time.

As they turned and began to walk, Civy still seemed to be in high spirits; his smile was soft, as always, and his steps were not hurried nor light, but there was something about him that radiated a little more vivacity than usual.

"You are well today?" he asked, glancing towards her. "You look anxious."

French! How lovely! Everyone always seemed to get so annoyed with you if one spoke French in general company around here, Spy practically forgotten all about the possibility. But Civilian spoke French (with a charmingly pastoral diction no less) and there was no one around to complain about being excluded from their conversation.

It was then that Spy heard him asking how she was, in English regrettably, that she realized that he was, in fact, trying to start one.

"Ce n'est rien," she replied dismissively. "C'est juste l'attente."

"Il n'y a pas lieu de s'inquiéter," he replied, and the untroubled look in his eyes suggested that he had some reason to be so sure in his answer. "L'ennemi est occupé ailleurs aujourd'hui. Ils auront disparu pendant quelques jours, en fait."

Civilian's strides were smooth and even. He looked like every step he took was utterly measured, yet completely fluid.

"Alors, venez. Nous allons profiter d'un repas et se détendre!" He paused and laughed. "Personne Inquiète."

Edited 2013-04-14 23:47 (UTC)

"Comment savez-vous qu'ils seront partis?" Spy asked, a little huffily since he apparently knew something about when the enemy planned to attack and hadn't let them in on it. Typical.

"Les oiseaux," he said gravely. "Ils me racontent des histoires."

There was no hint of humor to his tone when he said these things at first. Then he shot her a wink and began to snicker at her crabby attitude.

When it seemed that she could not be placated, he raised a yielding hand. "Les informations sont transmises à moi, à l'occasion," he finally admitted. "Il ne peut pas toujours faire confiance, il n'est donc pas nécessaire de répandre des rumeurs."

The common room was still just a little ways off, giving them more time to talk. He hoped, however, that it would not simply be about robots and the possibility of an attack.

Edited 2013-04-15 00:40 (UTC)

Oh. well. She supposed that was another matter. She gave him a playfully reproachful look.

"Eh bien, vraiment. Comment une fille de dormir beauté propre de cette façon?"

Civy paused briefly and shot Miss Spy a quirky sort of look.

"Peut-être un verre de lait chaud?" he offered, countering her playful look.

Admittedly, withholding information was not always the best policy to carry, but the point stood - if the intel he received was simply speculation, and not taken with a grain of salt or two, how much of the responsibility would he then bear when it was wrong? Best to simply let the surprises be pleasant rather than costly.

"Je m'excuse, mais...vous ne semblez pas avoir manqué une grande beauté-sommeil," he added, a distinct lack of lilt to his voice this time.

Spy snorted. That particular compliment under the circumstances, however appreciated (and true) it was, never failed to amuse her.

"Vous ne pouvez même pas voir à quoi je ressemble", Spy answered, chuckling.

Civilian's eyes widened slightly - he almost looked hurt.

"Vous ne croyez pas que je puisse voir?" he asked, truthfully inquisitive. "Je sais ce qu'est un masque ressemble. Je sais ce qu'il cache."

He leaned in slightly, looking her dead in the eyes. He was not actually upset, of course, but he was being genuine.

"Sûrement, j'ai été trompé une fois, mais parce que je ne cherchais pas," he said, shrugging casually as he admitted his lack of guard. "Non. En ce moment, je peux voir."

The common room was within reach. Civilian, grabbing the door, swung it open wide and held it firm.

"Après vous."~

Heavy words, and ones she was not quite sure she understood the implications of. What was it he saw? All too late, she realized she wasn't being as subtle as she'd like with her confusion. There was one statement in there that she understood, or at least thought she did, and so it was the only one she chose to respond to. She replaced her quizzical look with an appeasing sort of smile.

"Je ne vous cache rien," she told him lightly, as if he'd just made an incorrect assumption and she was explaining otherwise. With that, she walked through the open door, returning the favor with an equally airy "Merci".

Civilian's smile widened charitably. "Non, je suppose que non."

No matter. Perhaps it was time to speak of things less complicated anyway, now that they had arrived. There were more timely things to consider - for one thing, the low ache in his stomach.

"Bon! Ce qui est pour le dîner?" he asked spiritedly. "Je peux préparer quelque chose, si nécessaire."

An offer to cook? Someone is suddenly a lot more handsome, Spy thought to herself. Come to think of it, though, Civilian was rather attractive when you weren't thinking about what he might know about you. She imagined he must have made a very dashing Spy too. She liked the idea of him better that way.

"Nonsense. Je ne voudrais pas vous inviter à dîner et ensuite vous le faire cuire," she said, leading him into the kitchen.

"Quelqu'un devrait déjà fonctionner sur elle. Peut-être que vous pouvez montrer pour moi une autre nuit."

Alas, the Civilian won't be cooking tonight.

You could clearly get the smell of oil and cooking meat wafting through the air and hear the noise of something sizzling in a pan.

The Soldier was showing the finer points of fried chicken to Dan. The Scout was actually enjoying himself and the impromptu cooking lessons. It took a moment before he noticed the two newcomers. He was more paying attention to what Solly was doing more than to the Civvy and Bleu, after all.

"Hey"

Didn't mean he had to have no manners and completly ignore the two others, Right?

Edited 2013-04-17 03:15 (UTC)

Soldier looked up from his explaining the intricacies of rolling chicken in flour to see who was interrupting.

"Well, if it ain't Miss Kitchen Duty Disappearance. You planning to actually help cook today?" He then spotted Civilian coming in behind her. "Ah, Storefront! You like fried chicken?" He hoped so 'cause that's what they were making.

Edited 2013-04-17 03:26 (UTC)

"Scout," he replied, just as succinct as the aspiring chef's greeting. "And Soldier! I am glad to see you are presiding over our meal tonight. Whatever you have cookin' is fine with me."

Ah, yes, the same silver tongue as ever; strangely, as playful as his tone was, as he imitated accents, it was such that it never felt condescending. He genuinely wanted to spread a good mood around.

As he entered, Civy began to roll up his sleeves, trimming their length neatly until they reached past his elbows. It was just as much the act of dressing down for a more informal gathering as it was to avoid overheating.

"Unless you are wanting to have charcoal instead, no, I am not, Soldier." Spy pulled out a chair and sat at the table to watch. "I will, however, do the dishes."

" I'm pretty sure he could teach you a thing or two. Or maybe I can. I'm sure you're not that hopeless. Beside, it's, well... Maybe fun in not the word but it's an interesting thing to do to pass time I guess. Useful too." Dan replied to Bleu while rolling some of the chicken pieces in the plate in front of him.

"That looks good?"

Soldier inspected Scout's work and found it satisfactory.

"Yeah, that's good, Shortstop! Keep 'em comin' and I'll fry them up." Though he kept his attention on frying the chicken, Soldier was perfectly happy to keep up the chatter.

"What kinda woman can't cook? You sure you want this one, Shopkeep? Might wanna send her to home ec class first."

Civilian rolled his eyes, emitting a very faint, very sharp little laugh through his nose.

"Come now. Not everyone is familiar with the culinary arts, my friend," he bit back. "Useful? Of course, but should we all be so lucky to never need to cook for ourselves."

True to his offer earlier, Civy did know a thing or two about cooking; he had actually been rather skilled with a knife even before his service as a Spy, albeit one used more for filleting than backstabbing.

He sat down next to Miss Spy, leaning forward with his chin resting in the upturned palm of his hand on the table. "At least she is willing to support the team against the menace of grease-stains."

Spy harrumphed a little at all this picking on her lack of kitchen talent. It simply was the way of things, unchangeable and dangerous to try to. However, letting it show that it bothered her would probably just encourage Soldier to keep at it, so Spy chose to deflect the subject.

"What sorts of things can you cook, Civilian?" she asked.

Turning his attention fully to Spy, he almost seemed a little embarrassed before answering.

"...well, nothing too extravagant. Simple meals are all I'm capable of," he replied. "But at least, I could make something using just about any set of ingredients."

He'd never had any formal training, of course, but growing up with the large family he had, it was important for everyone to pitch in, share the work, and try to find something that everyone can agree on. Such experience would make anyone versatile.

"Anyone can cook. If you can understand how certain tastes and textures work together, it is a simple matter."

Well, so long as you don't let it burn.

"Well, Mr. Tastes and Textures, how about you decide what we're gonna have with our chicken then?" Soldier said without diverting his attention from his own work. He didn't necessarily mean to sound snarky, but he wasn't trying not to either.

Challenge accepted. Civy, rising from his seat by pushing himself up from the table's surface, moved over to the refrigerator and cabinets, immediately reacquainting himself with their supplies and ingredients.

"Very well, Major Nicknames," he snickered, rummaging around through various containers. "Let me see what I can come up with."

Just as he feared, there was not an enormous variety to work with; not anyone's fault, but simply that there had probably not been much call. He would never admit it to anyone present, for fear of being further typecast, but it was probably time to fill out another requisition form.

"Hey! I thought I was supposed to take care of that!" Dan huffed as he turned around in the flour the last piece of chicken.

Then he turned around to face Bleu.

" It's true I never saw you do anything more than toasts around. Well at least you're not trying to burn the place down like the first day Joan was here?"

Spy sighed.

"When I try to cook, accidents usually happen." True, she could manage coffee on a good day and Sniper had taught her how to make tea without incident, but they were talking about real food. "It is really for everyone's safety that I do not."

"Call me if you want a sandwich or a bowl of cereal. Otherwise, I will stick with other chores."

Turning briefly away from his newly-appointed task of le commis, Civilian glanced towards Spy, offering a little 'tut-tut' expression.

"I believe Soldier may be right here," he said chidingly. She could likely tell by his smile that he was kidding, but the vulnerability was simply too fun not to poke at. "That is quite a tragic flaw."

But back in he went again, scavenging a few ingredients from the pantry and the fridge. Once he had finally scooped up an old, metal bowl, Civilian set to work. With a bit of oil, he began to stir away as he added a large helping of rice to the dish; he added a bit of chicken stock, salt, and a bit of other spices - moving with such precision that it was hard to tell exactly which - along with a dose of some canned tomato sauce. Stirring it vigorously, with a fork no less, he swiftly reached around Dan to the stove and kicked on another of the burners.

Covering the dish as he placed over the soft flame, he simply stepped away and returned to his seat at the table as casually as if he'd done nothing at all.

"We'll let that simmer for a bit," he simply said, relaxing into the back of the chair.

"Nonsense," Spy scoffed. "Why should I need to know how to cook when I have all these handsome men around here to do it for me?"

"To pull your weight around here, Princess!" Soldier barked. He snorted to himself after though. That was Spies for you. Women Spies.

He went to wash his hands and peek over at what Civilian had left on the stove.

"Does pulling her weight involve burning the place down though? Might be a better idea to just drop this. Don't want to have no roof over our heads because the place got torched and robots to fight, right? Well maybe unless you want her to cook outside and use that as ammo. then we wouldn't need a Pyro and she would have two jobs instead of just one. How's that for pulling her weight around?" Dan chimed in sitting down at the table since he had nothing better to do.

Stopping to laugh aloud at Dan's suggestion, Civilian couldn't help but picture Spy, hunched over a hotplate, preparing to set some sort of trap for the robots in the form of a cassarole gone horribly wrong.

"There, you see? That kind of out-of-the-box thinking is exactly what we need," he said, snickering. "Cold, logical programming could never anticipate it."

After a few minutes, he rose up from his seat and checked on his dish; the Spanish Rice inside, speedily seasoned, was still simmering, and the sauce was not yet settled. He stirred it for a moment, then replaced the lid.

"Then again, I suppose our Spy does plenty as it is," he said as he returned to the table. He didn't mention the fact that he had given her a rather challenging assignment - that she was willing to even do the dishes, whereas some saw it as a chore to be avoided, should have been enough to validate him. "Maybe we'll leave the cooking to others."

"Now that is what I like to hear!" Soldier said, all too happy to play along with this kind of nonsense. "It's about time someone started coming up with some real tactics! Good work, Shortstop!" He paused for a moment to check on the chicken. "Now we just need to get Spy a hotplate and some food to burn and we'll be on our way back to Two-Fort."

One corner of Spy's mouth twitched as she gave the back of Soldier a calculated look. She was not sure if he was serious or not. Soldiers, if they were not obviously insane, tended to be very ambiguous about just how cognizant they really were in her experience. Still, the idea was funny and she supposed it was good sport anyway.

"Fine," she said, flicking a bit of ash into the ashtray on the table. "We can start with the Spam and the pancake mix. However, would it not be more productive, or destructive perhaps, to just give me a flamethrower and a barbecue spit?"

" Take the pancake mix all you want Bleu, I can still make some from scratch. Actually, they're better from scratch."

Snerk.

"Maybe you can get them flat and sharp enough to slice through robots. You know, like Frisbees or something."

Back to Two-Fort. No matter what the others said, Civilian still hadn't been convinced that such a road would be followed, not after everything that had developed further up the chain. With the Mann brothers both...'removed'...the two original sides wouldn't be back at each other's throats unless someone else took up their places. Where would they find two people that greedy *and* stupid?

As he sat there and pondered this possibility, he happened to miss out on the last few lines, clearly distracted with his head bowed slightly. When he finally snapped back to attention, he quickly left his seat and made his way back to the stove to tend to the rice.

"Frisbees, yes," he muttered in agreement. "Just so long as you don't play with them inside the base. Can't have people losing fingers, can we?"

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Open RP Thread - Sunrise, Sunset

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