Dean sat on the only usable couch. There wasn’t much else he could do while she tried to fix the terminal. He was not a tech expert and he had ceremoniously refused to act as a human conductor until it was safe enough for him to stay on that roof. The woman sat behind the terminal, whose screen kept flickering rapidly, and occasionally, a spark would fly off left and right and she would let out a quiet curse before reaching out for parts littered at her feet.
By this point the Courier couldn’t imagine how God or Christine would be able to cause more running around and pleasing and compromising to stay in one spot, when compared to the old singer. Even with her inquisitive need to know and learn how, why and what for – which was the reason she now had a bomb collar around her neck and cursed herself repeatedly still for not preparing better when she knew that Elijah had carried away a truckload of these from Big MT – she couldn’t think of any other reason why she would try to boot-up an ancient terminal in place where being stationary for extended period of time spelled death otherwise.
So here they were. At the broken down terminal that controlled the holograms. And all he could do was smoke. He’d like to find something to drink too, but he believed it was important to keep a clear mind right now. His eyes kept turning to the window and a perimeter of explosives he had set up while she worked.
Dean sighed. Then, he had another cigar. And once more, he sighed, this time – loudly.
“How much longer is it going to take?”
“You know you could have just stayed on the roof and waited for me to light the security up,” she called from behind the desk. It was followed by a clink of metal and a sound of terminal trying to establish connection, failing to do so and fizzling out. Also, there was another muffled curse worthy of a suburban taxi driver.
“Yeah, and what a prime position it is to get cornered in. Ghost People swarming in on all sides across roofs, the only way down blocked… Marvelous prospect. No, thank you.”
She let out something that sounded like a strangled snort. The ghoul was paranoid beyond reason. Granted, he had a very good reason to fuel all that paranoia, still… she had never expected her patience to be tried so thoroughly the way it was now. Strolling through Caesar’s camp, in full view of raping marauders, wasn’t as trying. Well, that’s a lie. Partly. It wasn’t as trying because she was well aware that the so-called legionaries couldn’t touch her at the time. Those trained attack dogs wouldn’t dare wag their tails without the great Caesar’s permission.
With loud sound of terminal finally powering up, she stopped reminiscing and stood up, helmet back in place naturally, rounded to stand in front of the screen. Just because the power was back on didn’t mean that the connections between the holo-emitter, the terminal or even the software for security hologram had survived.
“There weren’t any close to the building. Or that rooftop. I’d notice,” she dusted off her hands across her pants finally.
Oh, she’d notice, would she? This high-minded, self-entitled tourist… All wrapped up in that riot armor, thinking she is some kind of expert on the local fauna after surviving a couple of days in the Villa, when he had survived for decades! Decades! And wearing a tuxedo, no less. Now, that is called surviving with style!
“I’m surprised you can notice where you’re stepping with that thing on,” he gestured derisively at the, at this point, highly annoying black helmet which she had staunchly refused to remove to date. She did it only to aggravate him, no doubt about it.
So quickly she turned, walked – no, sauntered over him in such a single fluid motion that for a moment Dean believed she would slip into his lap. And there was a part of him that didn’t mind the idea in the slightest. In fact, that insufferable, starved part of him he had long since put in the fridge, had optimally prepared for it. Welcomed it! After all, when was the last time he had a decent pair of legs within arm’s reach? Well, there was Vera’s hologram, but there was only so much he could do with a collection of photons.
F!Courier/Dean Domino - A Heist - 5a
By this point the Courier couldn’t imagine how God or Christine would be able to cause more running around and pleasing and compromising to stay in one spot, when compared to the old singer. Even with her inquisitive need to know and learn how, why and what for – which was the reason she now had a bomb collar around her neck and cursed herself repeatedly still for not preparing better when she knew that Elijah had carried away a truckload of these from Big MT – she couldn’t think of any other reason why she would try to boot-up an ancient terminal in place where being stationary for extended period of time spelled death otherwise.
So here they were. At the broken down terminal that controlled the holograms. And all he could do was smoke. He’d like to find something to drink too, but he believed it was important to keep a clear mind right now. His eyes kept turning to the window and a perimeter of explosives he had set up while she worked.
Dean sighed. Then, he had another cigar. And once more, he sighed, this time – loudly.
“How much longer is it going to take?”
“You know you could have just stayed on the roof and waited for me to light the security up,” she called from behind the desk. It was followed by a clink of metal and a sound of terminal trying to establish connection, failing to do so and fizzling out. Also, there was another muffled curse worthy of a suburban taxi driver.
“Yeah, and what a prime position it is to get cornered in. Ghost People swarming in on all sides across roofs, the only way down blocked… Marvelous prospect. No, thank you.”
She let out something that sounded like a strangled snort. The ghoul was paranoid beyond reason. Granted, he had a very good reason to fuel all that paranoia, still… she had never expected her patience to be tried so thoroughly the way it was now. Strolling through Caesar’s camp, in full view of raping marauders, wasn’t as trying. Well, that’s a lie. Partly. It wasn’t as trying because she was well aware that the so-called legionaries couldn’t touch her at the time. Those trained attack dogs wouldn’t dare wag their tails without the great Caesar’s permission.
With loud sound of terminal finally powering up, she stopped reminiscing and stood up, helmet back in place naturally, rounded to stand in front of the screen. Just because the power was back on didn’t mean that the connections between the holo-emitter, the terminal or even the software for security hologram had survived.
“There weren’t any close to the building. Or that rooftop. I’d notice,” she dusted off her hands across her pants finally.
Oh, she’d notice, would she? This high-minded, self-entitled tourist… All wrapped up in that riot armor, thinking she is some kind of expert on the local fauna after surviving a couple of days in the Villa, when he had survived for decades! Decades! And wearing a tuxedo, no less. Now, that is called surviving with style!
“I’m surprised you can notice where you’re stepping with that thing on,” he gestured derisively at the, at this point, highly annoying black helmet which she had staunchly refused to remove to date. She did it only to aggravate him, no doubt about it.
So quickly she turned, walked – no, sauntered over him in such a single fluid motion that for a moment Dean believed she would slip into his lap. And there was a part of him that didn’t mind the idea in the slightest. In fact, that insufferable, starved part of him he had long since put in the fridge, had optimally prepared for it. Welcomed it! After all, when was the last time he had a decent pair of legs within arm’s reach? Well, there was Vera’s hologram, but there was only so much he could do with a collection of photons.