[ By's Blue Steel earns another smile. Then, the comment about softness makes him think of Harry, saying the aristocracy grew weak-chinned, which earns By another point. Eggsy rubs along his jawline as he thinks. Dandy instead of deadly doesn't strike him as entirely true. Why not both? That's one interpretation of the Kingsman style, after all.
He reckons there's something more to Byerly, seeing as his false background in the VR included the royal guard, so he doesn't bother hiding his investigative once-over. His obvious interest may invite further information. ]
Maybe that's more fortunate than unfortunate. [ if it's true. He takes a generous swig of his drink, forgoing the fancy straws. ] Anyone ever tell you that your second impression goes down easier than the first?
[ since he doesn't feel the need to deck him this time around, at least not presently. ]
Oh, just wait for the third. You'll want to strangle me again before too long. At least, I hope so - if not, then I'm clearly losing my edge.
[ By winks at Eggsy. Truthfully, though, the sentiment is rather mutual. The fellow had initially come across as quite the dull stick, serious and straightforward and humorless - but he's actually proving to be quite the charming conversational partner. Far sharper than he has any right to be. And far sweeter...not that By is charmed by sweetness, of course. That would be silly. ]
But you, dear fellow, owe me an answer, if I'm not mistaken. Your certain someone, returned to you from the other side.
Might be that I'm charming enough for the both of us.
[ At least enough to avoid another fistfight, he hopes. By's pursuit of the admission that prompted Eggsy's initial softness, however, has him downing his cocktail. One day he'll need to get his motor mouth under control. ]
Right. Er, yeah. [ a brief hesitation. He looks down at his empty drink. ] What do you wanna know?
[ Playing dumb doesn't suit him, but he tries anyway. ]
[ He would have said shut up, if it wasn't an accurate read on him. ]
Sure, if you're paying.
[ 'cause he won't be. He returns the mug to the bar, but he looks Byerly in the eyes. He won't say the name, but he won't lie, either. He speaks with absolute surety. ]
[ His face falls when Peggy rejects the we of it all. Fortunately, he recovers as soon as she implies that it's simply her turn to enter the ring. Roxy would want the same and probably pull her hair back in an identical manner, too. God, he misses her more than he thought — it takes considerable effort to push the thought of her away and refocus on the moment, especially with the crowd soaring around him. He nods, following her lead once again. Rather than watch the match, however, he watches her. She doesn't seem like she'll require his advice to perform well.
And even if she did, he wants to witness her technique unfiltered by his opinions. Eggsy's eyes flit to the critical hit in the ring, alight with interest, but quickly return to Peggy. He sees where her plan leads before she gets there, mouth splitting into a grin halfway through the proposal. ]
Absolute dickheads, the lot of them. [ said easily. That's most men for you, if he's honest. He arches his brows, like he might question her plan, except what he really intends to say its — ] Got anything you want me to hold while you go kick arse?
[ 'cause she's gonna win, and he's gonna make fucking bank. ]
[ Peggy isn't the sort of person to make fast friends, but she does trust her instincts when she meets a person — and, thus far, she rather likes Eggsy. Time will tell, of course, as will the next few minutes. ]
My handbag, if you please. [ He might notice it's a touch anachronistic, if he's got an eye for that sort of thing. And if he's especially curious, he might find a loaded Walther PPK in there, along with a compact mirror and a tube of red lipstick. If he makes off with it — which she suspects he won't — she'll be mildly cross. ] Thank you.
[ And just as that little business is over, the crowd erupts again: the match is over. Peggy doesn't waste time in volunteering the second the referee asks for one and she endures the laughter with a patient smile. With what could very well be a wink in Eggsy's general direction, Peggy vaults herself over the barrier and into the ring. And she hasn't bothered to slip out of her wedges, either.
Make your bets, fellas! her opponent yells the crowd. Then to Peggy, I'm not afraid to hit a woman. She simply cocks an eyebrow in return, her back still to the wooden barrier. He's a head taller than her and she's practically cornered. He sees it too because he launches himself at her with a roar, fist flying; Peggy ducks at the last minute and she hears the hit connect with wood. She pops back up and retaliates with a quick series of jabs to the stomach; left hook, right hook to the face. Once he's doubled over, she hoists herself back up on the rails for leverage and kicks him in the chest with both feet, sending him reeling back. Without giving him time to recover, she rushes forward, this time with a knee to the chest. He's angry now, swings twice at her, misses both times, and she comes 'round from behind. There's a broken slat of wood on the ground from the previous fight, and Peggy uses that to block another punch; it shatters the wood but she whacks him across the face with the piece left in her hand, lands another blow to the face with her elbow.
That's the thing with her fighting style: where Eggsy's got a little more refinement, hers is completely at odds with her crisp accent and perfect lipstick; it's rough, inelegant, brutal. It's all elbows, knees, and using her environment — particularly using her opponent's size and strength against him. She's used to fighting bigger men than her and often more than one at the same time. This is no different. But the tide turns: he blocks her, grabs her arm and twists it enough that Peggy feels her shoulder protest and she has to arch to compensate; and he lands his first punch to her side and drives the air from her lungs, grabs her by the hair, throws her to the ground. He advances, but then — she kicks him square in the face from where she's gasping in the dirt.
Those heels help — she probably breaks his nose with them from the crack she hears — and goes down like a sack of potatoes and stays down. Match over. ]
[ The wink sends a thrill of delight through Eggsy. There are few things he loves more than others indulging him — people meeting him in his comfort zone, whether that's joking innuendo or exaggerated winks, hit him squarely in his heart. Immediately, he veers through the crowd, ducking and weaving to place his bets. On the way back, he sets about rummaging through her things (old habits). The gun doesn't surprise him, exactly, but it's not entirely expected, either. He doesn't doubt that she knows how to use it with as much precision as her fists. As soon as he has the bag sussed, he returns everything to its original place and focuses on the fight.
Her fighting style is electrifying, the sort of resourceful twisting that happens in all his favourite video games. In this way, she differs from himself and Roxy. She's a fucking brawler, though her use of the environment to her advantage signifies greater training than street fights could provide. When she pushes off the rails, he lets out a two-fingered whistle. Hard not to press himself against the ring, too, when she goes down. The sight of her struggling prods at still raw wounds. Fortunately, she recovers before he does something stupid over it.
When she exits the ring, he holds her purse in one hand and a stolen towel in the other, beaming at her like she's just saved the fucking world. He extends the towel first. ]
[ brightly — ] Anybody ever tell you that you're bloody brilliant, Peggy?
[ 'cause he doesn't believe for a second that he's the first. ]
Not in so many words, [ she replies as she catches her breath, taking the offered towel gratefully. She's hardly broken a sweat but she still dabs lightly at her face, the back of her neck. Her lipstick hasn't budged. ] But once or twice, yes.
[ Her colleagues were sparing with their compliments. It wasn't because they couldn't see what she was capable of — hard not to, after all that had happened. It was simply understood that they all were there because they were the best; and her, as the lone woman as a field agent, had to be even better. Peggy leaves the towel draped over her shoulders then glances back at the ring, where her opponent is at least sitting up and looking rather dazed.
Mildly, as she turns back around to start towards the betting booths, ]
I shouldn't have done that.
[ But she's sure the man at the counter won't argue with the pair of them now. ]
[ he offers his hand, palm open like he's going to take her for a dance or pull it to his mouth for a kiss instead of merely holding hands. nothing romantic, was it? ]
Duly noted. [ he tips his head, very much endearing by her teasing advice for teleportation. ] I promise to keep it clean.
Could be an everyday pervert or someone in the escort business. Didn't seem too professional, what with insisting on watching and all, but he knew to pay cash.
[ Shit's legal here, so maybe it's alright to be sloppy. ]
[ Slightly older with a bit of expendable income. Perfect. That's easy enough for Eggsy to work with, especially when his idea isn't immediately dismissed. He grins, wide and inviting. ]
Well, we might need to put on a bit of show. [ said evenly. The idea of it clearly doesn't bother him. If anything, amusement lights his eyes. ] But I think me wandering 'round half-dressed might have been the catch, mate.
[ He's very aware that he looks more absurd than attractive, even if he considers himself a fit bloke, but he didn't pick this outfit (okay, he picked the terrible shade of yellow), so... the shopkeeper must be enjoying it? He doubts he needs to come back with evidence of a good time (whatever that would be), as long as there's the suggestion that he entertained someone. ]
( If it's really going to be that easy, Anders isn't going to complain. He's so just used to taking on jobs and errands that require more than the task-giver is willing to disclose — looking at you, Petrice — he just doesn't expect anything to be very simple or straightforward anymore.
But this world isn't Kirkwall. Here, people are a lot more generous with their coin and charity, and don't treat refugees like they're second-class citizens. )
You certainly do look that. ( Half-dressed, that is. Anders gives a pointed look down his chest before continuing, ) Just muss up your hair a little bit and you'd look almost completely ravished.
[ When Anders' returns his gaze upward, Eggsy winks, cheeky as anything. The use of the word ravished has him utterly delighted. Who says that anymore, huh? He wonders if his accomplice is one of those renfaire blokes (like the people from Westeros or whatever) — or perhaps he's just posh, like Harry. Regardless, he sets about ruffling his hair with a slight cringe. Evidently, he carefully styled himself this morning. Tight on the sides with a sharp left parting. Nothing else is acceptable. ]
Yeah, alright. [ lightly — ] Bet you say that to all your accomplices. [ or maybe he has that niche market dominated. ] Although I was kinda hoping you'd be into my first idea. The one where I got a free drink, so it seemed like I was properly charming you.
[ Despite his suggestion that she laugh, he cracks up. There's something about totally needy for some fancy British booty that hits the sweet spot of absurd yet true. He pulls back to give her space (seeing as she expressed genuine discomfort, even if it was in an entertaining fashion), leaning one arm against the bar as he subtly assesses her.
At her change of tune, the corners of his mouth lift into an amused smile. He winks, like they're enjoying a private joke. ]
That I did. [ He leans forward to give the appearance of intimacy, dropping his voice to a whisper. ] Interested in being my accomplice?
[ All the while, he holds her gaze, challenging her to reject the opportunity for easy money. ]
[ Alright, fine, that's a cute ass wink he has there even for what could be a really skeezy Brit aiming to seduce her. Plus, there's plenty of appeal in his promise. Kate hasn't been doing very good with money, mostly on account of her stubbornness in getting a real job outside of the superhero gig she's convinced she can put together. If there's an easy buck she can put together out of this, it was worth at least considering.
Her lips curve into a sly smile, her eyes narrowing into what could be slide seduction in her own look. Hell yeah, she can play this game. ]
Well, Mr. Fancy, tell me more, tell me more. Can't say I can buy you a drink, but — [ She holds up her own glass, a prize from her own previous conning. ] We can get those tiny stirring straws and share.
[ Has anyone ever called him fancy? No, probably not. Roxy said he looked smart in his Kingsman gear, but with his rough edges — it remains laughable. Still, his mark seems like a gal after his own heart, capable of turning it on when there's a spot of cash on the table. Won't be hard to flirt with someone pretty and clever, at least. ]
Cute. [ wryly amused by the suggestion, though he recognises that it's a bloody good one. He reaches across the bar to lift two straws for slipping in their drink. And with an arch of his brows — ] Should I book a table for two at the malt shop next week?
[ because this is a going steady sort of move, hardly suggestive of a quick fuck in the loo or a promise of action later. Not that Eggsy particular minds, of course. He imagines the scene of affection will still do the trick for his sketchy benefactor. ]
[ original toplevel here / overflow toplevel here ]
[ Eggsy does the same, suited and kitted in record time (having performed countless drills which perfected the process). Once he sorts himself out (flippers held in one hand), he moves to check over Athena's gear. It's not that he's suspicious of the vendor — it's his job to ensure Athena's safety, especially when he doesn't know if she has any diving experience. Fortunately, the gear passes his inspection, and they wander down to the pier, where it'll be easier to jump in while still remaining near the shore. ]
Looking good, Athena. [ He claps a hand her on the shoulder, intended to be reassuring. ] How ya feeling?
[ She's definitely still getting herself ready when he's finished up already, and she almost pouts at how much of a difference there is. To keep their story going though, she just makes it seem like she's just over cautious about it. ]
Perfectly fine! I've missed swimming, so it's going to be nice to get back into water again. I can't say I've got this deep before though... [ She looks sheepish now, knowing what she lied about back there. ] But it can't be that bad, right?
This is my specialty, yeah? [ And that, at least, is true. Halfway through the Royal Marines training and top marks in the Kingsman courses means he isn't like to make a mistake. ] It's brilliant once you get down there. Promise.
[ His confident air never wavers. With a warm smile, he moves to help her finish kitting-up. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tailorable) wrote2017-08-29 10:15 am
( introlog: #2 ) THE CALM
by.
[ By's Blue Steel earns another smile. Then, the comment about softness makes him think of Harry, saying the aristocracy grew weak-chinned, which earns By another point. Eggsy rubs along his jawline as he thinks. Dandy instead of deadly doesn't strike him as entirely true. Why not both? That's one interpretation of the Kingsman style, after all.
He reckons there's something more to Byerly, seeing as his false background in the VR included the royal guard, so he doesn't bother hiding his investigative once-over. His obvious interest may invite further information. ]
Maybe that's more fortunate than unfortunate. [ if it's true. He takes a generous swig of his drink, forgoing the fancy straws. ] Anyone ever tell you that your second impression goes down easier than the first?
[ since he doesn't feel the need to deck him this time around, at least not presently. ]
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[ By winks at Eggsy. Truthfully, though, the sentiment is rather mutual. The fellow had initially come across as quite the dull stick, serious and straightforward and humorless - but he's actually proving to be quite the charming conversational partner. Far sharper than he has any right to be. And far sweeter...not that By is charmed by sweetness, of course. That would be silly. ]
But you, dear fellow, owe me an answer, if I'm not mistaken. Your certain someone, returned to you from the other side.
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Might be that I'm charming enough for the both of us.
[ At least enough to avoid another fistfight, he hopes. By's pursuit of the admission that prompted Eggsy's initial softness, however, has him downing his cocktail. One day he'll need to get his motor mouth under control. ]
Right. Er, yeah. [ a brief hesitation. He looks down at his empty drink. ] What do you wanna know?
[ Playing dumb doesn't suit him, but he tries anyway. ]
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Sure, if you're paying.
[ 'cause he won't be. He returns the mug to the bar, but he looks Byerly in the eyes. He won't say the name, but he won't lie, either. He speaks with absolute surety. ]
I was nothing, yeah? And he made me something.
[ It's that simple, in his mind. ]
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peggsy.
[ His face falls when Peggy rejects the we of it all. Fortunately, he recovers as soon as she implies that it's simply her turn to enter the ring. Roxy would want the same and probably pull her hair back in an identical manner, too. God, he misses her more than he thought — it takes considerable effort to push the thought of her away and refocus on the moment, especially with the crowd soaring around him. He nods, following her lead once again. Rather than watch the match, however, he watches her. She doesn't seem like she'll require his advice to perform well.
And even if she did, he wants to witness her technique unfiltered by his opinions. Eggsy's eyes flit to the critical hit in the ring, alight with interest, but quickly return to Peggy. He sees where her plan leads before she gets there, mouth splitting into a grin halfway through the proposal. ]
Absolute dickheads, the lot of them. [ said easily. That's most men for you, if he's honest. He arches his brows, like he might question her plan, except what he really intends to say its — ] Got anything you want me to hold while you go kick arse?
[ 'cause she's gonna win, and he's gonna make fucking bank. ]
i've waited so long to use this icon
My handbag, if you please. [ He might notice it's a touch anachronistic, if he's got an eye for that sort of thing. And if he's especially curious, he might find a loaded Walther PPK in there, along with a compact mirror and a tube of red lipstick. If he makes off with it — which she suspects he won't — she'll be mildly cross. ] Thank you.
[ And just as that little business is over, the crowd erupts again: the match is over. Peggy doesn't waste time in volunteering the second the referee asks for one and she endures the laughter with a patient smile. With what could very well be a wink in Eggsy's general direction, Peggy vaults herself over the barrier and into the ring. And she hasn't bothered to slip out of her wedges, either.
Make your bets, fellas! her opponent yells the crowd. Then to Peggy, I'm not afraid to hit a woman. She simply cocks an eyebrow in return, her back still to the wooden barrier. He's a head taller than her and she's practically cornered. He sees it too because he launches himself at her with a roar, fist flying; Peggy ducks at the last minute and she hears the hit connect with wood. She pops back up and retaliates with a quick series of jabs to the stomach; left hook, right hook to the face. Once he's doubled over, she hoists herself back up on the rails for leverage and kicks him in the chest with both feet, sending him reeling back. Without giving him time to recover, she rushes forward, this time with a knee to the chest. He's angry now, swings twice at her, misses both times, and she comes 'round from behind. There's a broken slat of wood on the ground from the previous fight, and Peggy uses that to block another punch; it shatters the wood but she whacks him across the face with the piece left in her hand, lands another blow to the face with her elbow.
That's the thing with her fighting style: where Eggsy's got a little more refinement, hers is completely at odds with her crisp accent and perfect lipstick; it's rough, inelegant, brutal. It's all elbows, knees, and using her environment — particularly using her opponent's size and strength against him. She's used to fighting bigger men than her and often more than one at the same time. This is no different. But the tide turns: he blocks her, grabs her arm and twists it enough that Peggy feels her shoulder protest and she has to arch to compensate; and he lands his first punch to her side and drives the air from her lungs, grabs her by the hair, throws her to the ground. He advances, but then — she kicks him square in the face from where she's gasping in the dirt.
Those heels help — she probably breaks his nose with them from the crack she hears — and goes down like a sack of potatoes and stays down. Match over. ]
i'm here to make ur dreams come true
Her fighting style is electrifying, the sort of resourceful twisting that happens in all his favourite video games. In this way, she differs from himself and Roxy. She's a fucking brawler, though her use of the environment to her advantage signifies greater training than street fights could provide. When she pushes off the rails, he lets out a two-fingered whistle. Hard not to press himself against the ring, too, when she goes down. The sight of her struggling prods at still raw wounds. Fortunately, she recovers before he does something stupid over it.
When she exits the ring, he holds her purse in one hand and a stolen towel in the other, beaming at her like she's just saved the fucking world. He extends the towel first. ]
[ brightly — ] Anybody ever tell you that you're bloody brilliant, Peggy?
[ 'cause he doesn't believe for a second that he's the first. ]
u truly are THIS CR IS A GIFT
[ Her colleagues were sparing with their compliments. It wasn't because they couldn't see what she was capable of — hard not to, after all that had happened. It was simply understood that they all were there because they were the best; and her, as the lone woman as a field agent, had to be even better. Peggy leaves the towel draped over her shoulders then glances back at the ring, where her opponent is at least sitting up and looking rather dazed.
Mildly, as she turns back around to start towards the betting booths, ]
I shouldn't have done that.
[ But she's sure the man at the counter won't argue with the pair of them now. ]
dutch.
[ he offers his hand, palm open like he's going to take her for a dance or pull it to his mouth for a kiss instead of merely holding hands. nothing romantic, was it? ]
Duly noted. [ he tips his head, very much endearing by her teasing advice for teleportation. ] I promise to keep it clean.
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I'll keep you to that.
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So, now we wish really hard, hm?
[ like in peter pan. ]
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[ dutch nods. is it an indulgence if they have to hold hands to make it possible for him to go down to the planet? ]
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bellamy.
Bloke told me dress down and find myself a mark.
[ Eggsy lifts his arms in a broad shrug. ]
Could be an everyday pervert or someone in the escort business. Didn't seem too professional, what with insisting on watching and all, but he knew to pay cash.
[ Shit's legal here, so maybe it's alright to be sloppy. ]
anders.
[ Slightly older with a bit of expendable income. Perfect. That's easy enough for Eggsy to work with, especially when his idea isn't immediately dismissed. He grins, wide and inviting. ]
Well, we might need to put on a bit of show. [ said evenly. The idea of it clearly doesn't bother him. If anything, amusement lights his eyes. ] But I think me wandering 'round half-dressed might have been the catch, mate.
[ He's very aware that he looks more absurd than attractive, even if he considers himself a fit bloke, but he didn't pick this outfit (okay, he picked the terrible shade of yellow), so... the shopkeeper must be enjoying it? He doubts he needs to come back with evidence of a good time (whatever that would be), as long as there's the suggestion that he entertained someone. ]
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But this world isn't Kirkwall. Here, people are a lot more generous with their coin and charity, and don't treat refugees like they're second-class citizens. )
You certainly do look that. ( Half-dressed, that is. Anders gives a pointed look down his chest before continuing, ) Just muss up your hair a little bit and you'd look almost completely ravished.
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Yeah, alright. [ lightly — ] Bet you say that to all your accomplices. [ or maybe he has that niche market dominated. ] Although I was kinda hoping you'd be into my first idea. The one where I got a free drink, so it seemed like I was properly charming you.
[ shameless... ]
kate.
[ Despite his suggestion that she laugh, he cracks up. There's something about totally needy for some fancy British booty that hits the sweet spot of absurd yet true. He pulls back to give her space (seeing as she expressed genuine discomfort, even if it was in an entertaining fashion), leaning one arm against the bar as he subtly assesses her.
At her change of tune, the corners of his mouth lift into an amused smile. He winks, like they're enjoying a private joke. ]
That I did. [ He leans forward to give the appearance of intimacy, dropping his voice to a whisper. ] Interested in being my accomplice?
[ All the while, he holds her gaze, challenging her to reject the opportunity for easy money. ]
excuse my lateness!!
Her lips curve into a sly smile, her eyes narrowing into what could be slide seduction in her own look. Hell yeah, she can play this game. ]
Well, Mr. Fancy, tell me more, tell me more. Can't say I can buy you a drink, but — [ She holds up her own glass, a prize from her own previous conning. ] We can get those tiny stirring straws and share.
♥!!
Cute. [ wryly amused by the suggestion, though he recognises that it's a bloody good one. He reaches across the bar to lift two straws for slipping in their drink. And with an arch of his brows — ] Should I book a table for two at the malt shop next week?
[ because this is a going steady sort of move, hardly suggestive of a quick fuck in the loo or a promise of action later. Not that Eggsy particular minds, of course. He imagines the scene of affection will still do the trick for his sketchy benefactor. ]
athena.
[ Eggsy does the same, suited and kitted in record time (having performed countless drills which perfected the process). Once he sorts himself out (flippers held in one hand), he moves to check over Athena's gear. It's not that he's suspicious of the vendor — it's his job to ensure Athena's safety, especially when he doesn't know if she has any diving experience. Fortunately, the gear passes his inspection, and they wander down to the pier, where it'll be easier to jump in while still remaining near the shore. ]
Looking good, Athena. [ He claps a hand her on the shoulder, intended to be reassuring. ] How ya feeling?
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Perfectly fine! I've missed swimming, so it's going to be nice to get back into water again. I can't say I've got this deep before though... [ She looks sheepish now, knowing what she lied about back there. ] But it can't be that bad, right?
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This is my specialty, yeah? [ And that, at least, is true. Halfway through the Royal Marines training and top marks in the Kingsman courses means he isn't like to make a mistake. ] It's brilliant once you get down there. Promise.
[ His confident air never wavers. With a warm smile, he moves to help her finish kitting-up. ]
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I bet it's really beautiful. [ She smiles, hands clasping together even if it probably gets in the way of him helping her briefly. ]
What do I need to do first?
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