May 20 21:12:18 109 PA - A Very Quick Partial 'Borg Recruit
From Chronicles
May 20 21:12:18 109 PA.
TRADEWINDS COFFEE SHOP
It's a good hour, right after some of the afternoon shifts are getting off work. Gabriel is seated up at the counter today, on a stool tall enough that it makes him look even shorter. His clothing is different; a uniform which is very military clings to his frame. Before him is a set of mugs, one coffee, one pure milk. A large plate of brownies occupies the space immediately before him. At the moment, he's chatting up Tiffany with a smile and a few laughs here and there. Outside, the skies are gloriously clear at this time in the spring.
Jokin steps into the coffee shop, dressed casual, though the beefy 'borg' pistol sits on his hip none-the-less and he walks over towards the counter and takes a seat as well, "Cup of coffee." He says, "And a lemon square." He adds.
Gabriel remains quiet, allowing the other man to say his peace and make his order without interruption. However, when it comes time for Tiffany to start searching, he gives Jokin a nod in greeting. "Lemon squares, huh? Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look like the type." A low smile is offered before being covered by an upraised mug.
"What, since I've got bionics I should be eating silicon wafers?" Jokin asks, brow lifting a little, "Maybe I should order some hot hydraulic fluid too." He adds, "You've got brownies there. What type of person eats them, hmn?"
"No offense intended, friend," Gabriel says with a dip of his head. "I just personally wouldn't expect someone with bionics to love lemon squares, and that is the entirety of it. Perhaps because so many mercenaries try to keep up a 'tough guy' image that might not involve lemon squares. Maybe chewing gravel instead, washed down by pure coffee grounds." He chuckles. "I can see people saying that. Apparently, older people like brownies," is his amused response to his own food. "You maybe interested in a job?"
"Well, when you've got a particle gun on your arm you can eat just about anything you'd like, I'd think." Jokin says with a shrug, "And what sorta job?" he asks, glancing over.
"Escort and defense," Gabriel says easily, lips quirking up at the particle beam comment. "Big mucky-muck, holding out against Coalition troops near Free Quebec. That's the job, I'll make sure that it goes more smoothly. But those are the basics." He holds up a hand. "Before you ask, I don't know the pay. I'm getting people together for a meeting, we'll talk it out, and then send in a bid for what kind of contract we want."
Jokin nods his head, "So the same job I've chatted with you and the Juicer fellow about a few times already, yea? Well, like I said before I'm still interested, just need to know the specifics and all."
"Yeah, juicer guy's dead, though," Gabriel says. "So now that I am officially in charge, I have made some considerable changes to the details. But as I've said to others, rather than go through it with you, I'll wait for the meeting so that I don't have to repeat myself, and everyone can hear identical information. But could I generally lump you in as a heavy weapon? Just as a generic to consider for now?"
Jokin shrugs his shoulders at that, "Sure, you could. I'm pretty tech savvy as well, can use most any vehicle system, including guns and sensors. I'm fairly fluent in several languages, and a variety of other military skills. But sure, you can lump me in as heavy weapons."
Gabriel bobs his head. "Then I'll do that. At the moment, I don't expect to have much need for vehicle systems. But you never know what you might run across as a lucky accident, either. Just a minute." He pulls a notepad from an inner pocket and among a list of scribbles, writes down, 'Jokin.' "There we go. So. You been doing anything else? Escorting refugees home? Defending their compound? Keeping busy?"
"Planning on walking the whole way then?" Jokin asks, then shrugs at that, "And not sure about refugees or anything. Haven't seen much good work here really, may wander up towards Merc Town soon if money doesn't start coming in."
Gabriel only smiles. "I'll fill you in. But the refugees are paying to defend the compound. Money there, if you don't want to leave the city." He is sitting up at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee and a pad of brownies. The tall stool upon which he sits serves to make him look even smaller. Along the counter, but not exactly near him, is Jokin.
Jokin shrugs his shoulders, "Well, ain't heard nothing about it, so we'll see. If the money's right the money's right though." He says, taking his coffee, and lemon square as it's delivered.
Aya enters from the marketplace, cloak soaked with the latest dousing of rain. Aside from the damp, she appears otherwise well. Possibly thirsty, considering her subsequent approach of the counter.
Jokin's attention turns a bit towards the new arrival, offering a slight nod of his head as he lifts his lemon square up to his mouth, taking a bite out of it before it's returned to his plate.
If Aya notices the nod, it is not acknowledged as she requests coffee, cream, and sugar from the barista. After she receives the cup and pays the fee, she pivots and moves towards a table.
Jokin huhs a bit, then shrugs his shoulders as he's ignored. His attention returns to his snack, finishing it off before he starts sipping away at his cup of coffee.
Drink in hand and possibly unaware of vague gestures, Aya selects and seats herself at the nearest table. Observing other patrons appears low or nonexistent on her priority list, as she faces neither the remainder of the room nor the door.
