Timestamper meets Business Casualty

Characters in this scene: Karma, Jack

In an out of the way dirty bar on the edge of El Paso sits a mid-twenties man drinking from a bottle of Tito's directly. The place's whole aesthetic could best be summed up as "we serve drifters" and "the 90s were better". The sad excuse for country music that popped up post 9/11 played on a radio somewhere. The man wore overalls and a sleeveless white t-shirt along with short dark brown hair and a very severe farmer's tan. He watched the door with a lazy gaze. No one else, other than the rather severe looking late 40s bartender, was in the place yet it smelled like old and new smoke mingling together.

The door opened, and a shabby-looking late-twenties woman entered. Her dirty-blonde hair was in a ponytail with flyaway hairs frizzing around her head. Her green eyes took in the bar, and she gave a slight grin. Despite the warmth of the day, she was in casual business attire: a white button-up shirt (with the top two buttons undone), a navy pencil skirt, stockings with a severe run in them, and a pair of heels. She made her way over to the bar with a slight swagger to her step.

"Casualty?" Jack says with the slightest slur in the word. He simultaneously offered the bottle of Texas made vodka.

"That's me," she said, happily taking the bottle and tipping it back. Once she'd finished, she grinned. "You Timestamper, then?"

"Yeah, that's me. You can call me Jack though. Not sure how much of a crunch yous on so I've got it ready in the back of my truck. Still got a bullet in it though." He seemed incredibly comfortable talking within earshot of the bartender who for their part didn't seem to be paying attention.

The woman gave a look towards the barkeep and smiled. "Call me Karma. I'm here for a couple days, so if you wanna show me the good bars 'round here..." She grinned and winked. "Chupie will be fine for a bit, right?"

He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, "It should be. So, Karma, if you're wanting to have a night of it we certainly can but if I may ask what brought you down here to begin with? You ain't here just to pick up a critter are you?"

"I might be," she teased. "I certainly hadn't planned to come to Texas before you offered up the Chupacabra on a metaphorical silver platter."

She waved a hand dismissively. "But let's not talk business. Is this the best bar in the area, or are there others we can hit up?"

"Depends on what you mean by best but generally speaking, no I wouldn't say it is." He glances off toward the bartender who seems completely nonplussed. "I can show you one that... more fits your look." He stands up revealing him to be around six foot tall. "You're driving though." He starts walking out stopping for a second to call back at the bartender, "Put it on my tab." The bartender flips him off without looking but otherwise does nothing.

Karma laughed and followed Jack back out to the parking lot. "Sure, sure." She pulled a key fob from her pocket and unlocked a white BMW that sat in one of the spots. "You just give me directions, alright?" She slid into the driver's seat and grinned widely.

He slides into the passenger seat and puts his thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of his nose scrunching his face up in thought. "Give me a second. I haven't been in El Paso in a bit... er, it's [Directions]. Much classier place. By the way, you ain't what I imagined." His tone was wary. So was his body language despite the alcohol clearly helping him to relax.

Karma gave a bark of a laugh and tore off out of the parking lot. "What'd you imagine, then? Some cunt in a ratty T-shirt and torn up jeans or some shit like that?"

He gripped the 'Oh SHIT!' bar as Karma tore out. "Was more expecting, uh, yeah. I mean you see what I'm wearin'. More that I guess." He almost sounded embarrassed but managed to keep it even toned. "Hanging out with you ain't going to get me targeted is it?" This time he didn't hide his emotions so well, he was concerned.

She snorted and put her foot down on the gas as they hit the road proper. "Nah, I'm not, like, being targeted by the mob or anything like that. Don't you worry. I just dress all fancy-like because of my day job. Ain't worth having two sets of clothes for work and play, when I usually go straight from one into the other."

An audible sigh could be heard from the passenger seat. "Good. Apologize if I offended. I'd still hang out even if it did. Just the polite thing to do after all." Jack took a moment to take a glance of the automobile. This didn't seem like a cheap vehicle to him. "So uh, what kinda music, take a right up here, um do you listen to?" The social anxiety had set in for real now.

Karma grinned lightly, taking the turn at a speed that might have been unsafe and hummed softly. "Music... Man, I don't hardly listen to anything these days. When I was growing up, I mostly listened to hard rock and metal, but now..." She shrugged. "As long as it's music, it'll probably do me just fine."

"Fuck" he said under his breath as she whipped around the corner. "Where did you learn to drive like this?" *Please don't say your job. Is she a hitman? Wait, hitlady? Fuck.* he thought to himself.

"You want the long answer to that question, or the short one?" She looked over at him briefly and grinned. "You ain't nervous, are ya?"

"Long answer, please." He ignored the other question assuming she knew the answer. "Turn right again there." He said pointing to a parking area for a strip mall looking group of businesses. Among them was a rather hipster looking bar.

Karma cackled as she slid into the parking lot and slotted into a space. "Long answer, then. I'll tell you over a gin and tonic or something." So saying, she stepped out of the car and practically skipped towards the bar.

Jack got out as quick as he could and jogged to get in front to open the door like a proper gent. The place was snazzy in an unapologetically new money kinda way. The bar and counter was old but didn't fit the building. Probably ripped from an old speak easy and jammed in for 'authenticity'. Booths that gave a lot of privacy for those oh so deep conversations drunks have and a carpet that says, "We don't vomit here".  Upon walking in Jack calls to a bartender, "Rum and Coke and a Gin and tonic." He quickly moved to an empty booth.

Karma nodded her appreciation as the upscale nature of the place and slid into the booth across from Jack. She waited until they had their drinks before she started talking. "So, when I was fourteen my mom taught me how to drive a car. It was fine, nothing special. But my dad... Well, one day we gave a friend of his a ride out of town to pick up a car. Once we'd dropped him off, my dad handed me the keys and told me I was driving the three hours back on the highway.

"We were just out of town, going the usual 100 kilometers an hour, when a semi started to blaze up behind me. Dad looked at it in the rearview, looked at me, and said 'see that semi behind us? Don't let it pass you.' I always like to tell people that my mom taught me to drive, my dad taught me to drive fast."

"Huh, that's interesting." He takes a drink looking pretty happy at the rum to Coke ratio. With the light clink of his glass contacting the table he spoke further, "Trying to think what to talk about ya know? Uh, I guess, what is your job?" He motions at her outfit with his glass before taking another sip.

She chuckled. "Jacky boy, if you want, we can skip the pleasantries and just get absolutely hammered and bang it out in the back of my rental car. The effort is appreciated, though." She smirked softly and raised her glass in a toast before downing its contents.

He was motionless for a moment. A wheel turning behind his eyes as something processed what Karma just said. "I er, uh... no. I like the pleasantries but I'm down to get absolutely smashed." He was blushing something awful. "Bartender, Bottle of Death's Door Vodka and a bottle of whisky you think I can afford, please." he called to the bar. He seemed to be trying to avoid looking at Karma.

Karma cackled. That was really the only way to describe it. She sounded like a flock of crows calling to each other. "Fine, fine. We don't gotta go to the bone zone. I own a real estate agency up in Canada. Worked for an agency for a few years before I had enough cash and influence to start my own, and then made sure to take all of my clientele with me when I left."

"Sounds very girlboss." the word slid out like he'd never said it before. "So do you normally offer to uh, yeah? Like is that a hobby?" Mentally he was screaming at himself for the most insulting question on earth. *Who fucking asks that? Fuck I'm bad at this. Oh hey, you a whore? Like fuckiiiiiiiiinnnnngggg Hell Jack!* He raged internally. A man walked over and dropped some moderately nice whisky, a compliment to Jack maybe, and the requested Wisconsin based vodka.

"Now, see, if I were a proper fucking lady, that might insult me. Best be careful with that going forward. But nah, it's cool. Yeah, Jack, if I see a near-two meter slab of beef like yourself, I figure I may as well shoot my shot. As some basketball player said, you miss one-hundred percent of the throws you don't make, or some shit like that." She hummed and started pouring the whiskey quietly.

"You usually treat girls to nice whiskey and okay vodka?"

"Not too often. Most girls don't ask if I wanna get hammered and know them in the biblical kinda way. Also I like that vodka. It's named after a specific area actually called death's door. It wasn't all that dangerous but the fur trappers that named it did that to keep out competition. They wanted people to believe it was dangerous so they had free reign. Not technically lying. Reminds me... how to be even when drunk." He grabbed the vodka and took three good swigs from the bottle. Mansplaining had apparently calmed him down enough that he was barely blushing now. He still looked down at the table instead of at Karma. "It ain't the best though. You're right about that."

She gave a small chuckle and sipped at her whiskey, humming lightly in appreciation. "I do love hearing stories of stupid shit like that. Like, hearing about how some asshole vikings named a place Greenland to trick their enemies to sailing there or whatever."

"Yeah, names have all sorts of power." It was a wistful comment. He looked Karma over as he took another gulp of vodka. He drank like an alcoholic. Far to comfortable with a bottle in his hand. "What's your favorite drink, Karma, and for extra credit, why?" he gave a slight smirk.

"My favorite drinks are green apple Sour Pucker and Fireball. The reasons for those are pretty simple: I like things that hurt me." She chuckled. "They were the first drinks I ever had, too. Stupid twelve-year-old Karma asked her first few goblins to get her some booze, so they found the shit that would make her mouth burn."

"Like things that hurt you." He echoed. "How do you like being a practitioner? Is that the same?" He finally looked her in the eyes with his amber eyes staring intently at her response.

Karma shifted a bit in her seat, frowning. "I mean, I'm a Goblin Queen. Make of that what you will." She shrugged and took another swig.

"Huh, I don't really wanna make anything of it. I just... sorry." He took to more good gulps of his vodka that was disappearing rather quickly.

She shrugged. "I mean... Alright, you've seen me hitting on Silver in the chatroom, yeah?" She took another drink from her glass, then refilled it.

"I've noticed." He was clearly uncomfortable although it wasn't from the conversation. Something churned behind his far off gaze despite still looking at Karma.

"And you've probably seen me getting shot down time and time again?" She slammed her whiskey back this time, the glass hitting the table with a loud thunk.

"That shit *does it* for me."

"You aren't...?" He makes a rubbing motion with two fingers in a downward angle, "while you talk to them on there are you?" A combination of curiosity and a little worry plaster his face.

She cackled again. "Most of the time, nah. I saved that shit up and used it later. Typing on a keyboard with sticky fingers sucks."

"Ah, okay." Another sip of liquid courage goes down before he speaks again, "Is it Silver specicifically?" He slured his words but something new tints his words. A sadness bordering on pity with no sense of superiority.

Karma looked down into her glass and shrugged. "It's not *not* her, but... nah. I'm a fucking masochist. Silver's just... good people, I guess." She sighed and started filling her glass.

"If you wanna, like, call me a rancid cunt or something, I probably wouldn't mind it."

"Nah, not really my style. Besides, I'd be a pretty bad date if I did that." He was looking longingly at his bottle of vodka before swinging it up and chugging several mouthfuls. With the same gusto he slams it down on the table making a noticeable clatter. If anyone looks it isn't for very long. "This shit is getting depressing." He says with a couple tears being blinked out of his eyes. His gaze lingered on Karma's eyes. Seemingly forgetting what he just said he presses further, "So what do they mean to you? Have you drank with them?"

Karma took a long swig and sighed. "Nah, I ain't met 'em in person yet. We did have a long talk about whether I'd get to bang one or both of 'em, and I think I might do it with Glory sometime. But that might upset Silver, and Silver's the one I--"

After a moment, she cleared her throat. "I don't wanna upset Silver."

"I think you're good people." Jack said with a tender tone. His features softened as he took another sip from the bottle. "Drink more." He said spilling a bit of vodka he was practically speaking through.

She nodded solemnly and tilted her drink back. "What about you, Jackie boy? What sad shit are you into?"

A slight pause before he spoke, "I live alone in a trailer out around the panhandle. My primary conversation partners are chickens. I've found practitioner life too complicated to mix with trying to be normal. Not that sad compared to a lot of people's problerms. Give up time to the family. Couldn't tell you all the things I don't remember making sure I hit my quota." Tears welled up at that last part.

"Aaw, shit, now *that's* fucking sad..." Karma set her glass aside and started drinking from the bottle. "I'd hate t' be a chronomancer, just f'r that."

"Yeah." He said plainly as the dam broke and tears swam down his face. He wiped them away with his hand as he spoke, "Sorry. I don't like crying in public much less in front of attractive women." a slight half-hearted laugh escaped him before he sheepishly looked back at Karma.

Karma couldn't help a small chuckle escaping her, but she could feel the burning in her eyes as tears tried to well up. "C'mon, don't be that way. Everyone's gotta cry sometime, Jackie."

"Yeah." came out again parroting himself. "Do you wanna take what's left of these bottles and get out of here? I have a hotel room not too far from here..." He paused for half a second before sputtering out, "I'm not saying we would do anything more than drink! I don't mean to imply nothin'. Sorry, I'm real sorry." he holds his free hand up as if to prove he isn't pulling something.

Karma smiled and stood. "Let's get outta here, yeah. We can go lay in a hotel bed and cry together or something. Sounds good to me." She held out her hand to help him up, despite being nearly a full foot shorter than him.

A sad but deeply genuine looking smile ran across his face. He accepts the assistance with one hand and pulling a wad of cash to leave at the table with the other. "Cash is orn the table." He calls to the barkeep. "Thanks" he says more quietly to his new friend.

Karma chuckles and leans against Jack as they stagger out of the bar. She blinks, looking up at the sky. "Huh... We musta been in there longer'n I thought. C'mon, rental's over there..." She gestured and started towards the car.

He followed her lead and slides into the passenger seat when they reach the car. "You okay to drive? I don't wanna cause you no problems."

"Not my first rodeo, Jack, no worries." She got into the driver's seat and started the engine. "Just give me directions, yeah?"