[closed]

[meancuisine]

WHO: Eliot & Job
WHERE: Outside the imPort group housing in Maurtia Falls
WHEN: Afternoon of 13 Oct
WHAT: Meeting
WARNINGS: None



[ Eliot's been trying not to spend too much money on cooking equipment and ingredients since he showed up in a universe where he isn't rolling in money, but sometimes a guy's gotta cook something nice. He's just leaving residence #008 to go shopping when he spots someone he hasn't seen before near the house next door. Someone with hands that just scream "hacker", which means he's someone Eliot should be talking to, even if Eliot isn't sure what to make of the rest of him.

In any case, he calls out to the guy (the person?) with a friendly wave ]

Hey, haven't seen you around here before. You just get in?

Comments

[hishi]

[Always a person. "Guy" is about as accurate a descriptor as any other. In any case, Job is in comfy clothes and looking arguably ambiguous today, blonde wig and all. Lounging on the porch and idly browsing the network on his communicator, that friendly neighbor greeting makes him look up with a skeptical eyebrow raised. How quaint.]

Mmm, about a week ago.

[His words are saying one thing, but his tone is saying, "The fuck do you want?"]

[meancuisine]

[ clearly the innocent, friendly approach is not going to be helpful here. He approaches with a smirk rather than a smile and a sense of easy confidence ]

Then I'm betting you got just about all the info you need about this place already and you're starting to look for something interesting to take up your time. That sound about right?

[hishi]

[Job looks momentarily heavenward, his lips curved into a deep frown. This was bound to happen sooner rather than later. He can make an educated guess immediately:]

Fantastic. A motherfucking telepath.

[meancuisine]

[Eliot just snorts at that]

I'm no telepath. I just pay attention.

[hishi]

[By all rights, no one should suspect Job has been doing anything other than amassing a beautiful wardrobe and redecorating his living quarters. No, there is absolutely something fishy going on. But since this doesn't smell like a threat or blackmail, Job will indulge it.]

And here you are, delivering something interesting right to my doorstep?

[meancuisine]

I might be.

[But now he hesitates, not actually sure what to say. It's not like he has any specific plans, after all, just that he knows he'll need a hacker if he wants to get anything done]

Look, the doorstep ain't exactly the best place to talk. You want to see one of the local bars?

[hishi]

[In Job's opinion, a bar seems like an even worse place to talk than a nice doorstep like this. He lifts his eyebrows skeptically, but ultimately shrugs and rises from his seat.]

If you're paying, baby.