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In the Wake Of Humanity > Dead Threads > Please Stop Before I Blast You


Title: Please Stop Before I Blast You
Description: Tags: Gambit


Dazzler - March 7, 2012 11:24 PM (GMT)
    Ali stretched her arms as she sidled into the bar, smiling to herself. Today hadn't been a bad day, although she was feeling pretty exhausted; That was what a good Danger Room run did for you. She didn't like being overworked, but at the same time, part of her knew it was good to get a sweat going fairly frequently. At the same time, if you were gonna work hard, then you could play hard; It went both ways, honestly, so if Ali got any crap tomorrow morning, she would just point at the Danger Room and smile. Although tomorrow was.. A Sunday, if she remembered rightly, although that didn't really mean much at Xavier's. If they really wanted to, they'd drag you out of bed to get you involved in a training exercise, or, as Ali recalled, hiking trips and stuff along those lines. She recalled being lugged out for that sort of thing on a few occasions, although she didn't really mind. Accustomed as she was to bars and clubs and the like, to having a cigarette dwindling away to nothing between her lips, she actively enjoyed going out and doing stuff.

    By her own choice, of course.

    Like riding a scooter around packed San Francisco streets, or actively going out surfing or whatever. Or exploring abandoned places like urban explorers did. Ali wasn't incredibly active, but when she decided to do something, she really went out and did it.

    So yeah. Tonight was most definitely her night. And it was going to be utterly, utterly awesome. She strolled over to the bar, and ordered her first drink of the evening, scoffing slightly at a bunch of kids downing alcopops or whatever like they were candy; They basically were, mind you - She'd looked at the sugar content of the damn things before, and it far, far outweighed the alcohol content. Ali didn't really need pussified shit that tasted like bubblegum or soda or what-the-fuck-ever. Alcohol was meant to be an acquired friggin' taste, unless you were drinking cider, and in that case, it was meant to taste absolutely awesome. And so, that was what she ordered now. Ali had a taste for the stuff; She wasn't quite the enthusiast some of her friends had been, but she had attended a weird convention for cider-lovers when she was travelling back to New York and had hit Chicago. Those guys treated it like wine, which Ali utterly loathed, but she had to admit that they knew their stuff.

    She looked around as a flock of girls in one corner started to giggle loudly - enough to aggravate the bartender, seemingly, who grumbled under his breath, wiped his hands, and stalked off to the clean a few glasses; It seemed the girls had been whispering and laughing about a guy who had just entered. He was attractive, for sure, so Ali could see why they were going on about him - and they really were! But at the same time, she'd seen the guy's type a bajillion and one times before. He was, she theorised, the kind that would speak loose French to charm you, repeatedly go on about how beautiful you were, and then maybe.. Hm.. Yeah, he was most likely good with his hands, too. Unless she was completely losing her touch when it came to men or whatever, and she didn't think she was. Frowning slightly, Ali ran her fingers over the padlock she wore on a chain, hanging from her neck. Still accompanied by a set of keys. In all honesty, she'd not found someone to give one of those keys in years. Part of it was down to her, and she knew it - she just wasn't looking for.. That, really.

    At least, she hadn't been. Now, she wasn't so sure.

    But she sure as hell wasn't gonna get what she was looking for - whatever she was looking for - from this guy. Still, she grinned to herself, and took a long sip of cider. This would be fun, she figured.

Gambit - March 9, 2012 01:29 AM (GMT)
Gambit walked into the club and took in the sights and sounds. this was just what he needed, a place where he could blow off some steam and forget about the harrows of the day, of the entire week to be more accurate. It mused him how hie mood differed, which in turn led him to a different 'hang-out'. On any given day day he liked to chill out in a posh bar or restaurant, normally somewhere that played jazz music and with a higher clientele of people. And then other times he was happier in a place like this.

The fancy bars were okay and he did enjoy their feel and vibe. However, he could never really relax in places like that because for him it was like going to the office, it was work. The biggest advantage of places like that was the kind of people that also went there. Not the ones like him, hell no, he was a gold digger and proud. In fact, 'gold digger' was probably too nice of a phrase for him: he was a thief, born and raised, literally. The people Gambit liked were the ones that made thieving so much fun, such a rush. The ones who would sell their own family for a pretty face or a kind smile. Gambit knew it was wrong, after all he wasn't a monster, and he knew it greatly conflicted with his new attitude of redemption but a leopard never changed it spots. Not because it couldn't, but because it was born to have them, born to be a leopard, just how Gambit was born to be a thief and people were born to fill his pockets.

But Gambit wasn't working tonight, on the contrary he was out to have fun, let his proverbial hair down and satisfy his other passion which also involved him using his charms on people.

As Gambit entered he looked around the busy nightclub. He couldn't help but notice the girls in the corner who seemed to turn into jelly at the mere sight of him, giggling jelly. He loved having this effect on women, not that he fully understood why it happened. Well, he did kind of understand , he was easy on they eye and was able to fool people into believing he had a level of confidence he didn't fully posses. Yes, the Cajun was confident, overly so, but he also struck out as much as he got lucky. the difference was he was persistent, he lied a challenge. Though the girls in the corner were very beautiful, they were also likely to give the mutant everything he wanted before he had a chance to order his second drink. They were also the type who would want to 'get to know' Gambit and that just wasn't on. No, for tonight's games they just wouldn't do.

His burning red eyes probed the other 'potentials' and finally settled on a dark haired beauty standing at the bar. She too was watching him, probably trying to figure him out, read him as it were. Though the look on her face told Gambit she was wise to men like him, her stance and the way she was playing with her necklace told a completely different story. This behavior titillated him, a conversation with her could go either way and he was curious to see what the outcome would be.

/he made his way over to the bar, smiling at the group of girls as he passed. He didn't want to burn all of his bridges, he made need them later on. He stood next to the dark haired girl and smiled but said nothing. He waited a moment until the unspoken words between them grew to almost uncomfortable levels and then he turned to order a drink.

Gambit smiled mischievously to himself. He wondered how she would respond to such behaviour.

Dazzler - March 11, 2012 09:18 PM (GMT)
    Needless to say, Ali wasn't immediately turned to jelly and-slash-or a giggling wreck by the presence of this guy, which seemed to be the case with a whole bunch of the girls in here; She admired a guy who could do that, somehow, given that these days, it didn't seem like one man could appeal to broad variety of women - the concept of the 'type', especially visually, seemed really prevalent to Ali. She was.. She supposed she was about as much into a personality as she was appearances. That wasn't to say she'd sleep with some fucker who looked like Charles Manson just because he took her out for dinner, didn't spit and treated her nice, but.. Yeah. When she was younger - and still to a degree today - she was a lot more into appearances, but a little step along the morality and maturity lines had brought her to where she was today. Still, she definitely knew the type of the guy who had just entered.

    They were most definitely the kind who wined you, dined you, treated you like an absolute princess, made you feel like some kind of goddess in the bedroom, and then when they had their fill and left you for the next girl, you were left a blubbering, miserable wreck. Despite the fact that she involuntarily fiddled with her necklace, she actively grimaced; Too many times had she been involved with that sort of guy.

    He made his way to her side, Ali rolling her eyes at the legion of giggling airheads he left in his wake - did they not have any dignity at all? - before she glanced at him in the corner of her eye. It seemed he was playing the silent game; Oh brother. She shook her head before taking another sip, struggling not to burst into laughter. She knew the game here - Or at least, she'd gone through enough variants of it beforehand - they played it cool and kept quiet until you spoke to them, and then they capitalised on that and made it seem like you were really interested in them, at which point they smooth-talked enough to get into your pants. As such, she decided two could play at that game, and with a slight smirk at him, opted to remain silent for as long as possible. Continuing to drink, she gestured for the bartender to set her up with a second bottle. It was actually pretty easy to keep schtum right now - The number of times she'd gotten upset over guys like this were pretty much incalculable. As such, she entertained herself with thoughts of the various ways she wanted to kill said men.

    Moments passed, and Ali figured he thought he was winning out. Fortunately, she could most definitely keep this all day. She quickly worked her way through the second bottle of cider, and lined up a third, before she cracked a grin at the guy next to her; "You should know, I can keep this up all day, slick. I'm wise to the silent game," she advised, smirking still. "If you want, I'll get you a drink, but seriously, Slick? There's no way you're getting into my little yellow boxers."

    Not unless he was like, secretly the perfect man. Such a thing, however, Ali ruminated as she took a drink, did not exist. Not at all.

Gambit - March 17, 2012 02:07 AM (GMT)
As Gambit stood at the bar he had the feeling that the girl next to him had played this game before, or at least was aware of the moves he was trying to pull. This didn't surprise Gambit and he was always prepared, always ready to change his tactics mid-game. He knew it was crude but this kind of flirting, all this game playing and point scoring was really what got him out of bed in the mornings. He knew a shrink would have a field day inside of his head but he didn't plan on going to one and even if he did, for whatever reason, there was no way they would be able to even scratch the surface of Gambit's many layers. Hell, even he didn't understand all of them himself, he just knew what he liked and what he didn't; and this he liked.

Gambit held the bottle of beer he had ordered in his hand as he glanced around the club. He didn't normally drink beer, even nice foreign exports like this. He found the drink too boring and lifeless in a strange kind of way. He liked a drink that excited his taste buds and burnt his throat. However tonight was different, tonight Gambit was playing a new game, one he had never really tried before. This new game had a whole new character and this character liked beer. It was simple things, little variations that made his life so much fun. Not only was he into going out and pulling a girl, but he wanted to set every scenario up as though he was playing a role. This way he could be whomever he chose, a different girl, a different guy, a whole different life. Not many people could pull off such a feat, but Gambit was a professional and whatever this girl may be, he doubted she was even in his league.

"You see, dis is da problem wit' girls in New York city," Gambit said as he turned to face her. "Dey be watchin' too much Sex in the City, they t'ink every guy is an asshole b'fore he even open his mouth.

As he spoke he studied the girl without appearing to do so. It was important for him to follow her reactions to every word he spoke. These small telltale signs could make a difference as the conversation progressed. He also needed to know what was working and what wasn't; she was like a test audience to his master plan. If a line didn't get the desired reaction he changed tact, move on and hope the next line would create enough effect. This was how he stayed on his feet. It was almost like pretending to listen to a lady's story about her boring day at the office. You nod and smile and reassure in the right places, whilst the whole time you plan your next heist or money making scheme. This was another feat he had acquired over the years and perfected, another weapon in his arson.

"Maybe getting into your boxers is da furthest thing from my mind, maybe it isn't, but your mind is made up, I'm automatically the bad guy."

Dazzler - March 20, 2012 10:47 PM (GMT)
    If Ali had actually been interested in being with someone tonight, she might've actively responded in the positive to this silent treatment and the advances; She was, however, internally despondent about her complete and utter lack of commitment to things, her lack of progress in four years to actually go anywhere, and miserable about the string of one-night-stands and illicit rendezvous' she'd had in that time. As such, this guy could be, like, the equivalent of Gosling, Pitt or Clooney standing next to her, smirking away and giving her the silent treatment, but as it was, she still wouldn't have been interested. So not only was it that she recognised the game being played and she was actively kind-of insulted by that, but she just wasn't in the mood. If it had been a month ago? Maybe. Right now? It would take her getting way, way more drunk than she currently was.

    That said, she had the feeling this guy was almost a professional at this sort of thing, if you could apply such a term. Managing to look him over from a somewhat objective perspective - which was very, very difficult given he was admittedly very attractive - everything about him suggested he did this long term and was basically incredibly experienced at getting what he wanted when it came to women; His posture, his expression, the carefully practiced silence, all of it. It was impressive in it's own way, given Ali had basically seen a fair number of partners in her own time, over the years since she'd been away from Xavier's. She eyed him curiously as he started to speak, kicking off with a curious line about New York girls; "Hey now, slick, if you're gonna eyeball the merchandise, at least identify it properly," she told him with a grin, "I'm Californian, born and raised."

    She almost choked on her cider following his next remark, however;"Sex and the City, huh? I'll be frank - I could never get into the Sexual Adventures of Madame Horseface and Friends, but seriously - You gonna say I'm into Jersey Shore next or somethin', dude?" she asked of him, grinning still; "As for being the bad guy - Well, maybe not," she shrugged, "You could be the nicest guy in the world, I don't know. But.. I dunno. I guess I know your type," she told him, knowing he was trying to play innocent a little.

    Naturally, Ali wasn't sold. No dice. She wasn't being convinced. She'd come across this sort so many times - had cried about feeling exploited and then gone out to do it to someone herself - that she could pick out a lot of things. She probably wasn't as savvy as he was, but she had the feeling she was being underestimated, somehow. Still, she was happy to toy around with this, see what his game was. If it ended up with her legs around him at the end of the night, however, she was going to slap herself silly and drown herself in Central Park tomorrow, she was that determined to try and change.

    Undoubtedly, then.. She hadn't exactly picked the best place if she just wanted to drink. She should've just picked up a six pack of cider and snuck them into the Institute.

    "Well hey - you're the one jumping to conclusions there and assuming I'm calling you the bad guy," she told him with a grin, gesturing to the barkeep and ordering another drink each for the two of them. "Like I said, I know the games and I'm not interested," she stated, "Doesn't mean we can't talk, though. You're hot, I'm hot, doesn't mean we gotta make with the squeaking mattress immediately.."




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