maskormenacelogs | I don't wanna be the center of anything [Open]

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I don't wanna be the center of anything [Open]

WHO: Daryl Dixon, Mako Mori + Open
WHERE: Porter Cities & The House
WHEN: All November
WHAT: Catch-All!
WARNINGS: References ~~Zombies~~ Walkers, Kaiju, Abuse, General Violence and Gore are likely in a few threads.

Convention Circuit - A porter city near you
Having finally said goodbye to his Government assigned job, Daryl now had the free time to pursue projects he wanted to. For the most part. He was, however, still a contracted spokesman for Bow-Man Hunting and Hunting Season was well underway. With it came a convention circuit.

Daryl hadn't given much thought to the clause in his contract that had to do with personal appearances. He figured that he might have to make two, maybe three in a year because how many conventions could there be? 70. There were 70 conventions that Bow-Man Hunting had booths at. Every. Year. 26 for just the hunting and fishing industry. Not the general populace and 'enthusiasts', just the industry. The other 44 were the 'fan' conventions for the rest. The people that liked to go out like Daryl used to, for a weekend or a week in the woods. Or who wanted to prepare for a disaster, called themselves 'preppers'. Or for the rich asshole 'survival enthusiasts' who treated it all like a game. Gun shows, even, since families were often dragged along and left to 'ooh' and 'ahh' at whatever was in the dealer's hall and they could make a quick buck selling older models there along with their knife lines.

The only good part about the personal appearance clause was that he wasn't required to be at any shows (barring health or other negotiated absences) that weren't at the Porter Cities. The bad part was that he was required to be there for conventions in the Porter Cities. Which was why he could easily be found (looking very uncomfortable and grumpy, with shoulders hunched and arms crossed) by his adoring fans (Dear Lord how the hell did shooting one guy in the ass and posing for a couple pictures get him this much attention?) as well as people who actually wanted to talk shop.

Please, please, please, for the love of whatever you find holy or sacred or just downright okay, give him a 'business' reason to walk away from those fans crowding the side of the booth, taking pictures, and generally harassing him with a barrage of half-shouted questions and attempts to get his attention.

Enchilada Night - The House - November 3rd (open party for The Group, tag around/threadjack as you like)
Official purchase date had been October 23rd. Keys were handed out starting on the 25th. Official move-in date hadn't really been decided, as Daryl was still figuring out if he wanted to live on the property 'full time' or stick to the De Chima place. Mako's increased presence in day to day activity was pulling him closer and closer to Nonah as they'd have an easier time working their own personal touches into a new place than one of them taking up space somewhere the other had already established. Plus the De Chima house didn't really have space for the ravens Daryl was only a week or so away from formally adopting. The House did. And more they could add on to, as well.

Hell, he had already decided to move and just hadn't emotionally accepted it yet. He liked his housemates. Clark was quiet, but friendly enough. Betty always showed an interest in him and he was going to worry about her like crazy with Bruce still gone and her not knowing what to do with herself. And Catherine? He'd made her one of his almost as soon as he'd met her. They were kindred spirits from worlds where life as it was known in this one had ended.

Daryl wasn't really able to do a 'clean cut', but he could try to make the move-in more concrete. No better way to do that than with food. And free food, to boot. His last day on the job at the Cantina he'd been assigned to became something of a welcome-home move-in party. The restaurant was sad to see him go, but the employees had liked him well enough to fudge a few numbers on the books with 'remakes' and 'expired product' to send him packing with a good two dozen fresh enchiladas, a pile of tamales, and a few elotes.

Made for a great mini-feast with the family that none of them had to do the work for.

Wildcard/OOC
Daryl will largely be around Nonah and De Chima during November. Heropa will become less of a haunt the further into the month we get. If you've got an idea for a thread, you can post it or PM me to work it out beforehand so we're on the same page. And if you'd like a specific prompt, PM me and I'll set it up in the comments.

Also, feel free to tag in whatever style is most comfortable for you, I have no problem matching!

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She nearly offered to kick them out of the room so he could enjoy the quiet, but didn't. The feeling was there though in the background, a quietly protective fierceness that bubbled through her thoughts. The screaming fans, butting in on everything and people jostling them around irritated as much as the conferences of reporters vying for attention of the Marshal. It was the same in every place it just varied in intensity and purpose.

Mako had brought him lunch, something she'd taste tested to his palate. Everything she'd used was blended in such a way that it enhanced the natural flavor. She was constantly trying to get it just right so it taste as close to normal as it would have been if his senses weren't so augmented. One day she'd get there.

They stopped only briefly to where she'd stored the food and wound up through the doors of the press room in no time. Mako nudged him gently toward the back where they'd have more privacy, never dropping her smile, or her guard. Everything they'd need for lunch was in her bag and once they'd gotten their table, she began to neatly lay it out.

Her treatment of him once they were inside had a few of the journalists looking over and then dismissing them. They looked like just another minor celebrity with one of the handlers. Her bringing food in her bag helped with that image. It wasn't a reality Daryl was familiar with enough yet to pick up on, but he appreciated the fact that no one was paying undue attention.

"Thanks," he murmured, tone soft and one of those small smiles of his ghosting back into place. He appreciated her efforts to make his food taste more normal. It wasn't something he put much of is own energy into because he was used to dealing with less than pleasant choices in what to eat. He didn't think she needed to do that, either, but that was just how she was and trying to push her into not doing it would be stupid on his part. Kind of like telling Carol not to make cookies or figure out how to make three days worth of canned beans and corn interesting and different enough to want to have it day in and day out.

Daryl scooted his chair closer to hers once she sat down so he could reach out for the thermos full of tea and pour her the first cup. She didn't need to be doing that for him all the time.

"Mm," was her soft response that came with the slight tilt of her head, as much of a you're welcome as it was it's the least I can do. Mako answered his smile with hers, small and easy as he reached for the tea. He could pour her tea, she would pour him his later.

Her fingers nudged the cup a little more toward him with the tiniest of motions as she listened to the conversation of the reporters and the surrounding background noises. Too, she listened to Daryl through the Drift, next to her, and nosed her eyes for a moment, letting herself relax against her chair with her shoulder just brushing his arm.

It felt good to be here, carefully, delicately making his day better, but also learning the spaces he moved in, the energy of the crowd, the reporters. Mako could keep her head down, mostly, and not draw too much attention, but the ridiculous cereal box had made that increasingly difficult. Hopefully, people would forget that soon.

The mental reminder of the cereal shit had him apologizing (not for the first time) that he hadn't known her soon enough to make her part of his lawsuit against Chump for the very same thing. Though the only reason his was gaining traction was because he'd gone and pulled the copyright shit back in August over the toys. He didn't like being treated like a joke and in this, his retaliation in an attempt to control what people could do to him had paid off. Not so much for anyone else.

Don't do anything flashy and most of 'em will find someone new to bother was about the best he could do in reassuring her. His own small fire of fame wasn't burning out any time soon because of the contract he'd signed. But it was what it was. He'd have to deal with it.

Daryl leaned into her without thinking about it, the physical connection along the length of their upper arms increasing steadily while he kept his eyes on their surroundings. Her's were closed, his should be open. She could listen, he could watch. The lunch passed in an outwardly comfortable silence.

Well, right up until near the end when one of those journalists came over and extended his hand toward Daryl with a big smile on his face, "Issac Gordon. Small Arms Soldiers Monthly. Do you have time for a few questions?"

I can try, Mako said with an undercurrent of thought that said she wasn't sure if she could make that stick. If something went south and she was there? She was going in.

The silence was good, the company was better. Just them, the rest of the world shut out until a reporter decided to open his mouth. Her eyes opened as she set her tea down and let out a long mental sigh.

...this is bullshit.

"In my experience," Mako murmured almost too gently, "a few questions lead to more questions and those lead to more and then we're sitting here four hours into that 'few questions' moment." She glanced at Daryl and tried not to smile.

"Two questions, Mr. Gordon. Just two. Pick them well."

"You're Mr. Dixon's manager, I presume?" He asked, but barreled forward so it couldn't be counted at one of the two he'd been given. He was clearly used to dealing with Agents as he pulled his hand back and took a seat. His audio recorder out and on.

"This is Issac Gordon speaking with Daryl Dixon, newest imPort spokesman of Bow-Man Hunting. Mr. Dixon's manager has said they only have time for two questions." It probably wasn't something he had to record, but he looked like he was trying to make a good impression on them. Or play them for suckers. One of the two. Daryl had his opinion on which one it was, but was quietly grateful Mako had spoken up before he did and taken control of the situation so easily. He, himself, had struggled for months to figure out how to handle that sort of stuff and usually just went with 'fuck off' before walking away.

Isaac grinned and leaned forward, "Bow-Man Hunting has you in a two-year exclusive contract, and you're most well known for the crossbow you carry, but you've shown clear interest in, and knowledge of, small fire arms during the show today. Could you tell us what your preference on those are and if you do any kind of recreational shooting with them?"

Daryl lifted his thumb up to chew at as he looked over at Mako, trying to confirm if she thought that counted as one or two questions before he said anything. It sure as hell was a long one, regardless.

Edited 2016-11-03 13:36 (UTC)

Two questions. Preference is one, shooting is the second. Mako kept her eyes on the reporter who was far more irritating sitting down with that recorder out than she wanted to acknowledge. Her shoulder eased a little more against Daryl's as she picked up her teacup and took a supremely polite sip of tea.

There was just the tiniest of smiles lurking at the corner of her lips. She knew this game very well.

Daryl straightened up a little. The quiet exchange between them looking like nothing more than nervous talent looking to their Manager for direction and receiving none, being forced to act on their own. He cleared his throat and tried to remember the name of the gun maker the one he'd gotten from Carl's stash had been. After a moment he nodded again and answered slowly, "Like the feel of the Kechler and HocK Maker24s. The semi-auto's got a nice rate of fire and can't really go wrong with a .45 for your handgun."

Issac's brows rose, looking a little impressed at that. Not because Daryl had rattled off some oddball and out there make and model, but because he'd picked a very middle-of-the-raod one. It wasn't flashy. Something common to law enforcement, but not standard issue.

"I don't do nothin' recreational with 'em," he went on, words slow but thoughtful and confident. "Target practice at shootin' ranges and nothin' more. I do my fun shooin' with my bow."

The reporter laughed and started asking what he considered his 'second' question, "That's an interesting choice. Not something most speculation about imPort preferences usually comes up with. Would you say-"

"No," Mako said quietly, cutting him off pointedly, "he wouldn't say, Mr. Gordon, because your two questions have been answered. Two topics equal two questions, unless you have forgotten basic arithmetic. Please," she gestured lightly, "feel free to speculate in another location."

"It was most kind of you to take an interest in Mr. Dixon's weapon preferences," her smile was almost devastatingly charming, "perhaps we will have time for more questions another day."

Mako completely dismissed the man by neatly closing up the lunch boxes, stacking them neatly, and pouring herself another cup of tea.

Issac made to protest, but Daryl scooting his chair back and standing to grab Mako's bag so he could re-bag the boxes for her made it quite clear the two of them weren't going to entertain his presence further. He managed to pack his recorder up politely enough, but it was obvious he felt they were the ones being rude. Or maybe he just didn't like that he couldn't get away with more compounded questions with them the way he could others. But since he didn't have an actual interview with Daryl scheduled, he couldn't really get away with calling them assholes when they'd allowed him more time that he had any rights to.

Gonna need to keep you around more often, Daryl mused, gratitude and pride swimming around a picture of her smartly snapping a pen on the wrist of faceless people reaching for him to keep them all in line. Got about ten minutes 'fore I need to get back.

They could take their time walking back, maybe have a look at some of the booths. He might have to make an appearance, but he did hold some interest in the other dealers set up in the hall. He'd never gone to a big gun show like thi before.

I wouldn't mind it, staying around, Mako murmurs at him, amusement touching her lips as she finishes her tea and then neatly tucks the cup into the bag. It wasn't an inaccurate image, either, and she was incredibly adept at handling accesses. She'd done it for the Marshal countless times and it felt natural to intercept, divert, control, like a well run kata, as natural as breathing.

She appreciated taking the time as it came, leisurely, her bag placed back with security, her fingertips either brushing at Daryl's wrist or tucked in the crook of his arm. She was interested in the booths as well, the same as he was, her thoughts and his threading through each other. Mostly, though, she was just pleased to be with him.

Edited 2016-11-04 11:00 (UTC)

Once they left the back room and got into the halls again, Daryl's arm slipped around her so he could press his fingers into the small of her back. Keep in contact with her as he moved back and forth behind her when the slow moving crowds got too close or hover at her side when there was more room to spread out. Specific rooms had presentations or demonstrations going on, a couple press conferences for the upcoming year, but the Dealer Hall, that was where most people liked to spend their time. With good reason. You could buy practically anything in there.

They'd been gone long enough for the fans to have dispersed into the room so making their way back at a slower pace was met with less resistance than leaving had. For a short time, they were just another two faces in a very large crowd. A few fleeting moments of peace. Tensions relaxing away as best they could while a silent conversation about the things they saw on display passed between them. The possibility of picking up a few minor accessories once the hall was closed to the general public. How useful some random item might actually be and if it was worth the price. The urge to just buy that entirely useless and entirely decorative cord bracelet because it was the exact same color blue as Mako's highlights and it might not look too bad when she wore it. Maybe pick up that nice jacket over there because it looked the right size for Daryl's shoulders and he needed more things with sleeves on th-

I do not.

Do too. Mako couldn't suppress the grin or flash of amusement. He looked good in long sleeved things, especially if they were actually tailored to fit him. She could see it on him, too, enough fabric to let him stretch and move and fight if need be. The lines on the back, too, were perfectly tailored, well stitched.

Her fingers touched the collar, the matte gunmetal finish of the buttons and zippers. Lots of pockets, places for weapons, nothing would rip easily.

He'd look pretty badass in it.

Not that he had any issues whatsoever in that department already.

A blush tinged his cheeks as he moved up close to her and murmured, "stop" in a small voice that barely hinted at the embarrassment her thoughts were evoking in him. And of course he couldn't hide how pleased the compliment made him feel. But he also couldn't hide the fact that the felt it was a little over the top in terms of how badass he was or looked at any one moment.

Daryl pulled out the cash for the bracelet and put it on her wrist before she could further insist he get something for himself. Made sure to focus his thoughts on the action to try and drown out any others that would slip in. From either of their minds.

Mako nudged him gently, her laugh soft as he secured the bracelet around her wrist. Her fingers touched it absently and she knew that wasn't coming off anytime soon. It was almost enough that he was pleased by the compliment alone. Almost. But if he was getting her a bracelet, she was getting him the jacket. Besides, it would look really good with his winged vest over it. The weight of it was good, solid in her hands, the lining soft and warm for when he went out hunting. Good for waiting when the snow started to come down. She didn't say anything aloud, just pulled the right size out and had it neatly boxed as she paid for it.

Mako tilted her head back a little to glance at him and smiled, her fingertips light against his wrist.

Daryl didn't roll his eyes very often. Wasn't his way of showing exasperation. But as soon as she reached for it, he was rolling them. All he could do was think about how much he wasn't going to wear it. That he didn't need it. That it was just too much when he had a perfectly good jacket already. All the while knowing he'd probably walk out of the convention with it on if she didn't take it back home with her and lay the box out on the bed for him to open up later just to taunt him with it.

He didn't smile back at her only because he fought very hard not to let his appreciation and amusement show. He failed horribly and his lips just kind of twisted together, making the effort obvious to anyone watching. But dammit, he managed to keep an actual smile off his face.

A soft 'pfft' escaped him before he gently nudged her in the side with his elbow, "Come on. They're gonna come lookin' for me soon."

She pffted back at him, though she was already moving back toward his booth. About two steps in, though,and not very far away at all, she turned to pull a face at him that was stupidly cute as it was fierce.

"Let them come looking," she said (very quietly) with as much puffed up bravado as she could muster. "We have a jacket, now," Mako poked him gently in the side, "you can hide under it. They'll never find you."

Alas, Mako couldn't kidnap him from his job, even if she would have absolutely have loved to do so. One day, perhaps, she'd get a shot at that. The best thing she could do was walk him back and leave the jacket in his arms.

Maybe run for the exit after. No take backs.

He elbowed her again, leaning into the action this time so his shoulder pushed into her for a few long moments before he was back to walking normal. Much as he would love to run and hide for the rest of the day, he knew he couldn't. He'd already gotten a few pretty paychecks and violating the contract would cause a lot more legal problems than he needed. Especially when he was already dealing with the whole sueing Chump thing. It was moving to a close, but it wasn't quite there yet.

Daryl shoved his hands into his pockets so she'd be forced to carry the jacket back and couldn't leave it in his arms the way she was thinking about doing. But he didn't try to get them to walk faster. The booth was coming up soon and they'd be seen. He'd be seen. A rep would likely come out to help lead him through any crowd of fans that were around. He could take the last couple minutes of freedom for the day to idle in at a slow pace next to Mako.

Thanks for lunch he murmured into her mind like a slow stream of water. It was a nice break.

Mako leaned back into his shoulder for a second or two. He'd be off later and she'd be waiting, same as usual. She caught the way he jammed his hands in his pockets and shook her head, silently laughing. Part of sharing a brain meant he knew what she was planning with no lag time.

Dammit.

You're welcome, she said, her voice soft and incredibly pleased. I hoped it would be. Her expression shifted slightly. Take the jacket. It'll be in the 40s later. She huffed a little. Please?

I already got a jacket he huffed at the same time he pulled his hands out of his pockets and held one out for her to put the stupid box into and then tucked it up under his arm. Just at the edge of the booth, he stopped them and turned to face her before he got swamped by fans and more work. He smiled at her. Reached up to sweep a stray hair to the side.

"I'll see you at home," he murmured, taking another second to let his hand slide down to hers and give her fingers a quick squeeze. Then he turned around and squared his shoulders. Like he was getting ready to go to war.

Edited 2016-11-14 01:12 (UTC)

I know. She held the box out as he pulled his hands free from his pockets.

"I'll be there. Home is not so far, nor am I." she said in Japanese, bowing deeply to play her part of 'manager' to the tee. Through the Drift, though, there was calm, affection, and a quiet reluctance to leave. But she couldn't stay, she had her own things to do, just as he had his.

If he was going to war, she'd be the one waiting and lending him her strength for the battle ahead. Mako didn't look back as she headed toward Security to gather her things, but her fingers touched the bracelet.

You can always find me in the Drift.

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I don't wanna be the center of anything [Open]

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