Nov 06 14:55:48 106 PA - Brady finds some Tail(s)
From Chronicles
Kingsdale - The Alibi
The evening has worn on, and the crowd is beginning to thin. It is still a Saturday night, no less, and the dancing is still going on. Maya is there, a dark haired woman in the crowd, bouncing to the music, lost in her own little world. The short pleated skirt bounces along with her, and she yells the lyrics to the song with the rest of the crowd, her arms above her head.
One good thing about the upscale Dregs is the alcohol. Not too expensive, it's not watered down, and is safe to drink on tap without too much worry of other 'additives' even less desirable than water. This is what makes the doorcheck tolerable, at least for Brady. His duster is opened and more than one holster is emptied, although some might remain filled. Regardless, he parts with what he must, and saunters his way towards a seat, handing over a grin to a stopped barmaid en route, along with his request.
The music changes, becoming slower and more suitable for couples. Maya leaves at that point, turning towards the bar with flushed cheeks and a broad grin on her lips, her eyes sparkling. She leans forward, wiggling her fingers at the bar staff, hopeful of attention enough to get her drink. Then, a purple iced drink in hand, she turns, closing her lips around the straw and sucking as she lets her gaze travel across the bar, seeking friends.
Brady's chosen seat strategically places him with a fair view of the door, bar, and some of the dancefloor, all without craning his neck too much. If you're going to see the sights, best to make it easy to watch the incoming brew, potential trouble, and the bouncing skirts. Speaking of which, the black-and-red combination is hard to miss, with a flashed grin and tossed wink sent across the way to the 'Cruel' one looking for something or someone.
Her gaze pauses for a moment, resting on him. Then her grin widens a little and she moves over, her steps almost a bounce as she lands in the seat opposite him. "Hi! I don't think we met. Maya." She offers him her hand, keeping the other around her drink. She takes another quick slurp before she speaks again. "I haven't seen you here before." Potential trouble, perhaps, along with the bouncing skirt.
"Been here once or twice," is admitted, with a pause to accept his incoming glass of brew before Brady continues, "but you're right. I'd remember seeing you if I did." The offered hand is taken softly in his calloused own in a combination shake and attempted knuckle-kiss. "Name's Brady. Blindin' Billy Brady, in fact. You bounce around here alot?"
Her hand is calloused but soft, and her shake of his hand is firm, her own strong. "I've been working a lot recently." She confesses, a hint of mischief in her eyes, as if it were a naughty secret. "I bounce around here when I'm not home or at work." She rests an elbow on the table, taking a slow slurp of her purple drink, watching him over its brim, through her lashes, a deliberately feminine move. "What do you blind then?"
Brady leans towards her in kind, tipping his hat back slightly so the brim doesn't interfere with the view. "People tlooking where they shouldn't be, mostly. The name's for blindin' quick, too. How about you? What keeps you working so much?"
Maya leans forward a little, resting her hands beneath her chin, the glass between them. "The dead mostly." The reply is given with almost a straight face, a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth revealing the struggle not to laugh. "And sometimes the living." Then the grin breaks out, a soft exhale of air with it, as if she had been holding it in with her breath. "I'm a doctor of sorts at Knights."
"That don't sound like much fun to me," Brady smirks after nursing his drink, "but I reckon you stay busy. Can't say I deal much with the dead, except for maybe adding to them and making sure I ain't joining them."
Maya shakes her head, a light coming into her eyes, an enthusiasm that has little to do with drinks or dancing. "Finding out why, that is the key. If you listen to the dead, they tell you their story, and you can..." She stops dead, her cheeks flushing and her gaze drops to her drink. "I doubt you want to hear." She shakes her head. "How long have you been in town?"
Brady releases a soft chuckle. "Don't bother me none for you to chat it up, Tails, and looking at you ain't making me want to leave, neither. Bet you can figure out alot about how somebody bit dirt, but I just look for the holes." The shoulders of his coat shift. "Been here about a week or so, most of it getting all settled, or walking about.
The corner of her mouth quirks and her eyebrows rise. "Tails, is it?" She comments softly, not seeming to mind the nickname, not protesting it. "I can figure out how they spent their last few days, if you give me my lab and their body." She murmurs the words, making them soft, deliberately using a tone that is mismatched with the words. "Only a week? What brings you this way?"
"Remind me of rabbit ears, too," Brady swirls a finger at his hat in indication of her bunched pigtails, "but 'Bunny' don't seem it'd fit you. Me? This's the first decent place I found since... whatever that bunch of shacks was called. Not much between here and Hope."
"I'm not so much the bunny type." She agrees, her grin flickering onto her face, warming her eyes. "Where are you staying?" She reaches out a hand, aiming to take his hat and pop it onto her own head, her eyes dancing. "I don't think bunnys go for collars..." She dips her head to take a slurp of her drink, her gaze still on him.
Brady doesn't keep her from borrwing his hat, although it does provoke a momentary blink. Then his baby blues are dancing in step, right above his lopsided grin. "They usually bounce away from folks, too, and that /sure/ ain't you. You always in the mood for swiping Stetsons, Tails?" Almost as an afterthought, he adds, "Got me a place down by the Gunnery. Ain't fancy, but it's dry."
"Tails?" The corners of her mouth quirks and she shakes her head, laughing, her eyes dancing. "Not always but sometimes, a girl has to let her hair down." She puts the Stetson at a cocky angle, resting her chin in her hands. "Dry can be good." Her tone is teasing, that soft alto purr that some women can do, and her eyes are laughing at him.
"Good for sleeping," Brady grins as he reaches up to adjust the hat, maybe for a more cocky angle, "ain't so good for company. How about you? A bouncing body fixer like yourself ought to have a right fancy shack."
Maya doesn't pull away from the touch, her eyes dancing, pure mischief in her face. "I have a nice little place, up at Coventry Place." She replies, dipping her head to take a slurp of the drink through her straw. "Good for more than sleeping. Sometimes..." She leans forward, her voice lowering to an almost whisper, as much as the music will allow, "I eat there."
Brady's baby blues flash at the brief suspense, and then he blinks. "Ya don't say?! Sounds like a place to take alook at, being so fancy, and all. Figured out anything else it's nice for? Maybe I can give you a hand with that." His hand lifts again, this time to flick the hatbrim with a finger. "Least I can do on account of you showing me how good my hat looks when you're wearing it."
Maya sits back and laughs, shaking her head. "I can't think what you mean." She speaks mock seriously, turning the corners of her mouth downwards, fighting the grin. She pokes the hat to the back of her head, and aims for a cowboy drawl, "You'd not be thinking of coming home with me before you even buy me a drink, cowboy?" Giving in, she laughs and finishes her drink, shaking her head.
It's mocking, exagerrated, and only partly true. All the more reason for Brady to let loose a laugh. "You're good... or maybe bad. I like it." Then his head shakes. "Of course I wouldn't think nothing like that..." He pauses to reach out an arm and catch a passing waitress. "Get the little lady here another of what she's having, would you?"
Maya lifts the glass, wiggling the purple liquid inside. The waitress knows her, a familiar face around here apparently. "Me? Bad? I'm known for my sweet and innocent nature, I'll have you know." Maya comments, but the snort from the departing waitress doesn't help her case. "Of course you wouldn't..." A final slurp of the drink through the straw, with her gaze on him, through her lashes and it is gone.
"Now that there's a bought drink coming," a gesture is made towards the bar with Brady's chuckle, "I guess we don't need worry about that, do we? You're certainly sweet," he smirks at the slurping, eyelashed gaze he's receiving, "but I don't know about innocent." Not that it appears to be a flaw in his book.
Maya sits back with a broad grin that is nothing near innocent. "So, I'm guessing you have your little dry place to yourself then? No sweet little girl waiting at home for you?" The hazel eyes give him a look with the intelligence and questioning in them that she uses at work, "I don't pouch ever." She pushes her empty glass away as the new one arrives, and she gives him a smile for thanks. "I don't get involved either." A manner of warning for him.
Brady shakes his head at her question, though before he can reply, his brows quirk in surprise as she seems to mention rules. Once the initial shock of the unexpected passes, his eyes are still two-stepping, maybe even more animated. "Don't need to worry about none of that. I ain't gonna whisk ya off to a preacher, and didn't do it to nobody before, neither."
She gives him a studying look, a hard steady stare for a moment, judging his answer with a clear pair of hazel eyes. "I prefer to get the ground rules clear ahead of the game, otherwise you end up with people getting hurt. Then the grin returns and she leans forward to take a sip of her drink. "I have enough trouble with a preacher of my own." Dry humour with a serious undertone but her grin returns in full force before the expression shows long enough to spot the emotion.
"Makes it easier, don't it?" Brady nods, now recalling his beer long enough to take a sip. "It's all good when everybody knows them, but lots don't bother to ask, or tell. You just keep gettin' better 'n better." He doesn't want to get hurt, either, and shot in the back qualifies. "Oh? Got one that's a little too preachy?"
"Nope, my boss is a preacher." She brushes over the topic, lowering her lashes as she takes a sip of the drink, the grin fading for an instant. The long pause between his sips brings a flicker of amusement into her face though and she moves her drink forward, leaning her elbows on the table, watching him thoughtfully. "So that is no to both questions." She comments softly, eyes amused.
Brady matches her lean and nods, attributing the falter of fun to reminder of bosses. His fingers adjust his/her hat once more, this time mischieviously adjusting it down over her eyes with a quick tug. "Yep, that's a double no. Good things are hard to come by, Tails, so I get 'em when I can. You're the best thing I seen in right too long."
"Tails" leans forward, tilting the hat back with one finger, giving him serious eyes. "There is only one little problem." She comments softly, putting her fingers up to show how small the problem is. "I have a friend staying with me. Would be a little unfair to take a man back when he just broke up with his love." She gives him a thoughtful look, the corner of her mouth quirking slightly.
"Wouldn't want to burst his bubble," Brady smirks with the mention, modding slightly, "him being a little one, and all. Like I said, my place ain't much," the shoulders of his duster roll, "but if you don't mind sawdust on the floor and bits shaking off the ceiling, it's enough for some entertaining."
"Wouldn't want to hurt him. Friends come first." She shrugs lightly, dismissing the absent Sebastien. "I never minded bits shaking off the ceiling, so long as they don't crawl." The corners of her mouth turn up, and she picks up her drink, taking a slurp through the straw, watching him steadily, her eyes dancing, mischief in her face, thoughts unspoken.
Brady shakes his head, both an answer and an expression of bemusement. "Nothing in there going to be moving, but us and the furniture." He winks and straightens somewhat to tend to the remainder of his glass.
The wink broadens Maya's grin and she tilts the man's stetsun back on her head, resting her chin on her hand. "So what do you do when you aren't drinking and chatting up women in a bar?" She asks, giving him a look of interest, her gaze resting on his face.
"Working, mostly, like you." Brady shrugs his shoulders. "Got to have creds for the drinks and a place to rest by boots, and not every pretty filly I meet is going to take me home." Unfortunate, but he acknowledges it. Behind his baby blues, it doesn't really require much supernatural ability to see what's churning. His interest is very piqued, although it is primarily limited to a kaleidoscope of imagined gymnastics for two.
The corners of her mouth twitch slightly and she does a slow blink, dropping her gaze to her drink as she suppresses a giggle. The amused light in her eyes brightens them as she peeks at him through her lashes. "Great minds think alike." She murmurs, extending her hand to take her drink. It is slightly out of reach but she glances at it and it moves to her hand so she lifts it and drinks.
Brady isn't sure what to make of her statement, not that they haven't seemed to be on the same page most of the evening. Then there is the long-fingered fetching of her glass, without the longer fingers. His grin ticks up another notch. "You're just full of surprises... but I ain't going to argue about thinking the same. There any other little tricks up that skirt of yours you want to share?"
The widened eyes and innocent look don't match the grin on her lips but Maya shakes her head. "I've plenty of tricks but you get to wait and find them out." She tells him before finishing her drink, watching him through her lashes. "If you're really good, you might find out..." The teasing in her eyes is obvious and she rises from the table, putting the glass down. "So... " She asks, lifting her eyebrows.
"Guess it's a good thing for both of us that I'm really good," Brady kicks up out of his chair and steps around the table to her, "but that's better shown than talking about. C'mon, Tails, how about we go see what shakes off the ceiling?" His euphemisms are getting thin, but then there's really not any need for them, at this point.
