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WHO: Maeve Millay and Nick Valentine
WHERE: Nonah to start. Who knows where they'll end up
WHEN: Following their network conversation
WHAT: Robot date.
WARNINGS: Westworld spoilers, probably.

[ Maeve finishes tying up her hair before she heads out of the assigned housing, figuring it's best for Nick to keep his distance from the others. Nonah #005 was its own little familial setting and Maeve herself was struggling to fit into it. She didn't want to start bringing people there as well. It just felt rude to inject her life into theirs.

She stands outside of the fence, leaning against it with a pocket watch in her hand to check the time. And when she spots him, she straightens up with a smile. ]

At least you didn't kept me waiting. One more point in your favor.

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[One has to wonder if Nick actually tries to be as painfully noir as possible, or if it's just something that happens to him accidentally. He's waiting outside Maeve's apartment, under a streetlight in the dark, smoking a cigarette. A little rain and some light jazz and it'd be unbearable.

When he hears her approach, he turns her way and smiles. His eyes shine yellow under the shadow of his hat, and he snuffs out the cigarette on his metal hand and tucks it into his pocket.]

I like to keep the score up as high as I can. Good to meet you in person, Miss Maeve.

[ At least it seems like a comfortable fit. And who is Maeve to judge anyway? His behavior is well beyond her supposed time period. But she can appreciate another host smoking even though it's not a necessity. ]

Not many are as lucky as you. [ A bit of confident bluster as she lifts her hand for his to shake. Or for him to kiss it if that's the thing he's into. Men can vary between both, she's found. ]

I suppose the most interesting thing Nonah has going for it is its shopping district. You can find shops of all sorts over there.

I'm glad I got the chance, then. [Nick's a hand shaker, it seems, and he does his best not to seem self-conscious when he shakes Maeve's with his skeletal right hand.

She certainly is a Gen 3, or whatever the equivalent is where she's from. Impossible to tell she's anything but human to look at her. Lovely, too, if he may say so.]

Lead the way. This is the most I've seen of Nonah already. Funny to think I was in Pennsylvania an hour ago.

[ But Maeve doesn't flinch when that skeletal hand enters her own. She had seen with her own eyes the composition of her kind -- what goes into creating all of them. In many ways, that's far more horrifying than Nick and his state of wear and tear. ]

Maurtia Falls does seem to be the city with the most excitement, I will confess. It's a bit more up to my speed. I find myself spending many nights there.

[ There's comfort in an environment that's more dangerous -- a taste of home away from home. ]

Perhaps now, I won't have to do that alone.

[ An amused glance is spared toward him before she does start to lead the way. ]

I brought the name Tony Stark up to you, but I neglected to tell you the truth of my recommendation. He has been doing some work on me. So, I can say he knows what he's doing and he does it well.

Well, sounds like they put me in the right place, then. I'm used to a lively nightlife. ["Lively" is one way to put it, really.] Just give me a call if you're ever in town, and I'll find some trouble with you.

[Ever the gentleman, Nick walks on the street-side of the curb beside her as he follows her along. He nods at her mention of Mr. Stark.]

I figured it was something like that. I gave him a call the other day, just like you said. Seems like a decent guy.

[Nick holds up his other hand, the slightly more intact one, and gives his fingers a bit of a wiggle.]

I'll take any kind of mechanic I can get, though. Duct tape is pretty handy in a pinch, but it does have its limits.

You're patching yourself together with tape?

[ Maeve laughs at that, shaking her head. ]

I could do a better job than that! And I don't even truly know what I'm doing.

[ It's quiet in Nonah. The most noise they get as they walk is the muffled sound of a dog barking in a window. Peaceful. But boring. Especially along these imPort houses. ]

But you don't have to lie. Tony Stark is an arrogant ass. We both know it. The world knows it. But he does know his way around artificial intelligences so he's useful to that end.

In a pinch.

[It is pretty absurd, though, particularly coming at the idea from a place like this. An intact place, a whole one, not a place where little scraps of civilization are still trying to pull themselves together.

Nick chuckles at her dismissal of Mr. Stark, then reaches up to adjust his hat.]

I try not to make a habit of insulting people's friends right out of the gate. As long as he's handy with his work, he could call himself "king" and I wouldn't mind.

[He turns to glance at Maeve with a little smile.]

I've never had much in the way of a reliable mechanic. Had a series of wasteland tinkerers, who did right by me. And I had a doctor, but I was way behind the tech she was used to. She dealt more with the inside parts than the metal.

Don't give him any ideas. I'm certain he would if he thought he could get away with it.

[ Maeve cracks a smile, glancing up toward the evening sky. ]

Your world was rough, wasn't it? Not only being apart from the technology, but being a synth in a world apart from technology. The world they created for me is one of the supposed past, but there are a lot of hidden strings being pulled and we aren't as removed from technology as we are led to believe. I can't imagine what would happen to us without the maintenance.

But I'd say you look rather well for having been through hell and back.

Oh, boy. I'll avoid the subject altogether, then.

[Nick just smiles at Maeve's mention of how rough his world was. For the sake of not making people uncomfortable, Nick's been avoiding telling anyone the exact nature of the Commonwealth and the only place he's ever known as "home." Things in the world are tense enough, and nobody needs a gory explanation of exactly how bad "tense" can turn out, and for how long.]

Well, thank you, Miss Maeve. I do my best to keep myself together. I'm glad you and yours have been able to stay in shape, whatever the other circumstances may be.

[Seems like it's easy to find people to help in this place, too.]

So what do you spend your days here doing? You working anywhere in particular?

[ She does notice his avoidance -- he's withholding information from her. And if there's one thing Maeve's good at, it's getting what she wants out of men. She'll know all about him and his world soon enough. But she'll ease into that for now as they reach the shopping district. ]

I work in Merlotte's. A bar in De Chima run by Sam Merlotte. I can't say it's a glamorous job. I can't even say it's really a desirable job. But it earns me money enough. And it's far better than my original job. A fortune teller at a Pizzeria.

[ Maeve rolls her eyes. ]

Do I look like the sort of person who can predict the future? I can't even read my own thoughts unless it's with a tablet.

[ Meant as a joke, but really -- it's just sad. Her expression falters only a moment. ]

A lot of these places close early. But you'll find the book shop stays open rather late and has a little cafe attached to it. When I need some peace and quiet, I'll head there for a bit.

I believe I spoke with Mr. Merlotte the other day. Seems like a decent kind of guy.

[He turns to look at her.] I'll have to stop by sometimes. Alcohol doesn't do much for me, but I always enjoy the taste. Especially served with a nice view.

[Good god, man, give it a rest.]

I'm meant to be narrating a radio show. Can't tell why anybody'd be interesting in hearing me drone on and on, but the subject matter's pretty much my speed-- mysteries. [To put it lightly.] Figure I can just tell stories about my cases until I have the time to create some new stories.

[ The flattery at this point is expected -- not just from him but because it's just one of the many payments she's used to receiving doing what she does for a living. ]

Do be sure to. I'll give you one on the house.

[ And if Sam knows him, she's sure he won't mind. She walks them toward a fountain in the center of the shopping district, settling onto the edge. As it's nighttime and most of the patrons are home -- the fountain itself is off, leaving only the still water full of coins. Nick doesn't have to worry about short circuiting or anything if he opts to sit beside her! ]

I don't think it's a bad job for you. You have an excellent voice. And I'm certain there are plenty of others who agree with my assessment. At least they didn't put you in charge of operating a phone sex hotline. It could have been worse.

Edited 2017-03-03 00:49 (UTC)

[Nick has a seat on the fountain, almost marveling at the novelty of such a thing. A fountain with water in it. Simple pleasures that simply don't exist anymore in the Commonwealth.]

Well, thank you. I've got the perfect face for radio, too.

[It's accompanied by a smirk, and a chuckle at the very idea of him working on a phone sex line. Maybe some people are really into that noir kind of thing. Like really into it.]

Wouldn't mind getting back into the detective gig, if I'm here a long time and if I get settled in a little better. It'll be nice to try something new, but investigating's in my blood, so to speak.

[ Her eyes veer toward the exposed metal joints of his face, the breaks and damage he wears without an inkling of self-consciousness. Maeve's hand moves forward to touch his cheek in an action that's both curious and affectionate. Was his skin built to feel the same as her own? Did he have senses in his skin that allowed him to feel her touch? ]

Come now. It's not so bad. Anyone who can't appreciate it, just doesn't have taste. You're vintage. Like fine wine.

[ The hand falls away, lacing with her other on her lap. ]

I think this world certainly could use more investigators. Lord knows there's enough violence and crime going on. And I would say the sooner you can get into what you enjoy doing, the better. We have a great deal of escaped convicts on the loose from that blackout. Can we really trust this world to find them on their own?

Vintage. That's a nice way to put it.

[The fact he can only emote so much with his facial expression definitely helps the apparent self-confidence in his broken bits. It also helps him look basically unflapped as Maeve touches him.

He can feel. Not like human skin, exactly, though he can remember what that feels like even without ever having experienced it himself. (Sometimes, he really resents the other Valentine for leaving him those kind of memories.) Of course, the touch he remembers was hers, and that stirs a bunch of uncomfortable feelings he'd rather not deal with.

That's not Maeve's fault. She doesn't know about her. And neither does Nick, technically, he reminds himself.

Her comments do bring a little smirk to his face, and he gestures to the damaged spot.]

Caught some shrapnel there, once. It was pretty mangled-looking, so the bare bits are an improvement, trust me.

[Now they talk of investigations. There's one thing he inherited that he's genuinely happy about.]

This world ain't half the mess of my own. But I figure it doesn't matter where I am or how I got there-- if there's good to be done, then damn it, I'm going to do it.

Are you going to fix it now that you're here? Or keep it?

[ It does add character. Unfortunately, it also only adds to the fact that Nick can't exactly hide what he is. Which could make stealth in his investigations that much harder. But after his comment, she laughs. ]

You're quite motivated, aren't you? Doing good simply because it's there to be done. You make me feel rather terrible by comparison, since I can't say I'm invested in things enough to do anything good for them. I did save a girl during the blackout.

[ And she might have killed a man. But that part's not terribly important. ]

That's about all the good deed you're likely to get out of me for the next few months.

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