Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Where Everybody Knows Your Name

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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Scaramouche on Sun Dec 16, 2018 9:15 am

    "Thank you."

    Feh! Empty words from an empty soul. Collins knew the type, even if his employer had the awareness of a doe-eyed duckling. He sniffed once, barely masking a disapproving sneer, and more than happily absconded to whatever corner of the bar that wasn't occupied by blond-haired Neanderthals. His employer was another matter entirely, and one protected by several hundred pounds of lethal she-fluff.

    "Eh~!" Scaramouche shrugged, still in good spirits despite having boiled the crabs himself. "C'est la vie, I guess. If nothin' else, here's hopin' they won't be feisty goin' down!" Or trouble coming out the other end, because - oof! The android was so not looking forward to scrubbing any of the customer bathrooms after a monstrous poonami.

    He watched Shen devour the poor things with all the voracity of a starving bum, horrified (and curious) at how an organic could digest chitin and calcium carbonate. T... These weren't soft-shell crabs, right? As far as the android knew, these were burrowing crabs with hairy mittens; AKA: hard-shell, and most definitely not for entire consumption. So, uh... "A-Are ya, like, gonna need medical attention or somethin', babe?" Scaramouche hesitantly inquired, feeling his processors race. What if Shen punctured his stomach, or a piece of shell blocked his windpipe, or tore his intestines, or damaged his anus on the crapper!?

    Frowning, Scaramouche gathered the dirtied dishes thus far, watching the entire spectacle with visible concern. "I know I'm a 'bot and all," he murmured, "b-but maybe you should, like, not consume the shells? I m-mean, y'know, you're an organic - a human - and your stomach is kinda... delicate, baby. I'd hate to see somethin' happen to ya, that's all..." People were not supposed to eat the shells of hard-shell crabs! Soft-shell, yes. Hard-shell, no no no!

    THAT'S WHY THEY WERE CALLED HARD-SHELLS.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Shen Woo on Sun Dec 16, 2018 10:04 am

    Ah, how Shen was just looking forward to the main event. A sip here, a lick of the lip there. His mind was on the food, since when did he ever think with his brain? Him? Think with a brain? No, he thought with his fists and his stomach, and sometimes, sometimes with what was in his pants. Ahem. The second head. Not the one with the wild blond mop atop it. But that was neither here nor there.

    "If they're feisty then, that's my own fault!" He quipped playfully. Yeah, he knew that part at least. How many times had something happened like that? A couple times--but those had been improperly cooked. Or, rather, undercooked.

    "Maybe a dentist." He hadn't swallowed any of the shells--yet. "My gang had a funny tradition with this. Get as much shell in your mouth as you can...ehhh, on second thought, I don't think I have a metal spitoon on hand. We used to see who could make the loudes' clangs while spittin' the shells." Real mature, Shen. Reaaaaaaaaaaal mature.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Scaramouche on Sun Dec 16, 2018 7:00 pm

    "...A dentist?" Scaramouche echoed. Oh, right! Organics couldn't just, like, install a new winning smile or replace a tooth as easily as a robot could, huh? Human teeth were pretty much one-and-done once the adult set came in, which made it all the more strange as to why folks like Shen insisted on abusing their pearly whites to Hell and back. Guess this is why dental insurance was a thing! Here's hoping the brawler wasn't afraid of drills, needles, and the loss of feeling in his tanned face.

    "My gang had a funny tradition with this. [...] We used to see who could make the loudes' clangs while spittin' the shells."

    H-Hm! That was, erm... faaaaascinating? A frown spread across the robot's face, for obvious reasons already stated and some... better left unsaid.

    As much as Lunette just loved the whole Western aesthetic (and she loved it a lot), Scaramouche absolutely put his ruby-heel down on spittoons. Like, ew! Not only were they unhygienic and encouraged terrible manners, but cleaning 'em out was as every much filthy as scrubbing the toilets after chili night! No, no, no. The android will not be tolerating any of that here, thank you. Scaramouche politely reached an arm around the bar and felt around for a large empty bowl, placing it beside Shen's arm while also pointing to the crab crackers near the gangster's elbow. "Just, uh, spit 'em out in here, yeah~? If the lil' things give ya trouble, use the crackers - it's what they're there for!" he advised, trying to remain friendly. And please don't make a huge commotion, because this was technically on the down-low. Killing a whole pot of live crabs every other night wasn't in Scaramouche's cards! "Oh! And, uh... here, babe." He slipped Shen a heavy-duty, clean towel for all of his crab-busting needs.

    "Don't worry 'bout dirtyin' this old rag up," Scaramouche said, "I'll give it a good clean later, so enjoy~! Now, if you'll excuse me, I gots other folks to wait on hand and foot. Ta-ta, and call me when you're ready for that bread puddin'~!" And lo, the robot was off, leaving Shen with a playful wave of his fingers and a grin on that smooth, metal face.

    Nearby, Collins wiped a hand-washed glass and studied their guest carefully.

    Very carefully.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Shen Woo on Wed Dec 19, 2018 1:24 pm

    "I mean, it ain't like I can replace my pearly whites on m'own." Shen laughed "And hell, wouldn't be the first time I've had dental work." What, you think he kept his toothy grin with a wing and a prayer? He was so used to fixing cracked teeth from fighting that he was quite acquainted with root canals and crowns. As for needles, well, he was a bit trypanophobic if he actually saw the needle. But that was why he tried to close his eyes. Really, he was a tough guy until needles came out and then he was like a screaming kindergartener in a haunted house.

    "Well, it might not be a spittoon but it'll work." He winked. A satisfying clattering clink of crab shell would land in the bowl, as though Shen had been spitting out a plethora of sunflower seeds. Yeah, this one had about the manners of an aggressive eleven-year-old with a wolf dog. He would then carefully start cracking the crab from there, giving a small smirk. Hm, maybe he could try to see if he could flip the shell from thumb to bowl? Like the immature git he was, he would do so, almost looking like he was flipping a bunch of coins into the bowl. Hey, no one ever said that Shen Woo of Shanghai was a man of manners. No, he was a man of impulse and action, simple as the day could be long.

    "Will do, oh Pied Piper of Portal Breach~." Shen chuckled. He seemed a bit more subdued now, no longer playing spitty. No, he was playing shell-flip, with every satisfying little clink of shell in between the bites of succulent crab meat. Party!
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Scaramouche on Wed Dec 19, 2018 4:34 pm

    ...Hm. Maybe grossing out one's host was a 'thing' for some Earth-based cultures? Scaramouche was well aware that the Japanese could be overly-polite, but perhaps the Chinese were... less so? The android desperately wanted to scratch his aluminum head at Shen's poor form, but wisely decided against it. Instead, he shrugged to himself - and at the camera - and carried the dirtied dishes off into the kitchen. "Note to self: scrub around the bar and spray for Eau de Crab," Scaramouche muttered. Seriously, it's like the sea just couldn't leave that awful smell at home.



    Intervention:
    "Pssst! Hey, Boss!"

    Eh...?

    No sooner had the robot stepped foot into the kitchen and approached the double basin sink, a familiar shade of purple fuzz shuffled across Scaramouche's LED display. "Yeah, babe?" he asked, throwing in a pair of heavy-duty dish gloves. "What's crackin'? Slow night upstairs?" Odd, it wasn't usual that Boon left his station at the grill...

    As quiet as a large, broad-shouldered and big-horned furry demon could be, Boon wormed his way around the preparation table and stood near the android with a fledgling frown, opaque white eyes observing his boss scrub-a-dub away. "Well, it's about your friend," he murmured quietly, keen on keeping his voice hushed. The demon's tail curled and relaxed every so often, betraying Boon's hopeful tone with a dash of anxiety. "Collins and I've been watchin' him all quiet-like, see. And we ain't so sure we like what we've been, uh, seein'. D'ya mind if we thump him? 'Cause we wanna thump him, all nice and smooth-like. We can take him out back and no one'd be none the wiser!"

    Welp, can't say the boys were exactly subtle. When they didn't like someone, they didn't like someone! Came with the territory of being opportunistic highwaymen, he supposed.

    "Boon, babe... ya can't just thump a guy 'cause he's been raised by barn animals," Scaramouche chuckled, easing a sopping-wet plate onto the nearby drying rack. "Sure, the guy's apparently an utter pig, but that ain't no reason to downright slaughter him! 'Sides, I think he's just hungry. Bein' loud while eatin' was seen as a sign of contentment for some cultures back home." Though it was kinda disgusting, not gonna lie. Probably again something to do with East vs. West social etiquette.

    The demon shook his head. "Oh, it ain't that," he clarified, trying to smile. "Guy eats like some of our regulars! Nah, it's more how he treats ya."

    Now that... was admittedly something the robot hadn't expected. He frowned at his coworker and paused in cleaning the dishes, letting the water run over his fingers. "...I, uh, don't think I follow ya, babe," Scaramouche confessed. Let it be said that Boon was a sweet guy. A real baby grand who had a punch that could flatten even your ancestors, but also a big, purple teddy bear that was as every much friendly as he was slow on the draw. This went double for the ladies; triple if they were immediately available for a romp in the hay. Ergo, if even Boon was noticing a glare or two... Then you can bet an Abe's Cabe that the android was gonna listen. He killed the faucet and silently gestured for the demon to follow after him into the freezer, where they could talk in secrecy. The heavy metal door closed shut soon after and isolated them from any and all prying ears. "Okay, now I'm curious," the android piped up, speaking freely, "what's goin' on? What're you and Collins so plumb worried about?"

    "Well, I mean," Boon shrugged. "The guy's a dick, Mochi! Collins been tellin' me things, and I don't like a single one of 'em. He be comin' here and expectin' to be wined n' dined like royalty, for one. And then he be disregardin' ya as if you're just some housemaid. He's thick, he's inconsiderate, and I don't like it. I wanna thump him."

    Oof! This had the makings of an ugly downstairs brawl and Scaramouche's money was on Boon's demonic knuckles, 10-1. Have ya seen them thumpers...?

    The robot held up his hands as if hoping to placate the demon's riled temper, his aluminum frame shivering from all the cold. "W-Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let's time-out, here, R-Rocky," he urged. "I technically inv-v-vited him over, and I did plan on the first m-meal bein' on us. ...Er, m-me, I guess. A-Anyway! Ya don't gotta w-worry 'bout that, 'kay~? He's a lil' rude, s-sure. And talkin' to him is like talkin' to a s-sponge, but I think it's honestly 'cause he's got, like, a one-tracked m-mind. There ain't no reason to go p-plantin' folks into the ground just yet, b-baby."

    "Mm... Mochi, you're doin' the thing again."

    "...Eh? What t-thing? What're ya talkin' ab-b-bout?"

    "The thing," Boon pointed out, tail flicking. Uh-oh. "The thing where ya, y'know, bend over backwards for people and let yourself get stepped on? That thing. Lu does it too, hence why I come on down and clean house. Collins would too, but y'know how he gets about gettin' dirty."

    Well shit, that smarted. Talk about going in dry. "..." For the longest while, Scaramouche didn't know what to say - how could he, when now the robot was concerned about whether or not he was being a doormat!? Yeah, sure. Was Shen being uncouth? Was Shen taking more than he was giving? The guy didn't exactly come from good stock, especially since he was all about that 'thug life', but that didn't mean the gangster was all rotten, right? He seemed okay in the Sanctuary, a lil' more put together than he was acting now, and Scaramouche had a genuine good time with him! Two plus two equals four, but for some reason the android was being told it made six. His frown worsened as the robot lapsed into a spell of personal conflict, quiet. Was he really being a doormat...?

    Boon sighed and rested a friendly hand upon his boss' shoulder. "Listen, I understand ya like the guy, Mochi," he began softly, "but he ain't no good. Really, he ain't. Like I tell Lu, ya both got hearts of gold but don't know when to lock 'em up tighter than a drum. He's usin' you, my friend, and we just don't wanna see ya get hurt, that's all. The sooner ya ditch this chump, the better. Trust me. Ole Boon wouldn't lie to ya, uh... b... babe...?"

    Okay, that pitiful attempt got a smile.

    "Ugh... I know, I know," Scaramouche relented, letting his shoulders droop. "Ya w-wouldn't lie, b-b-baby, and I'm b-bein' too f-f-f-friendly... again." That was gonna bite him in the metal ass one day. Hopefully not this one... He looked up and implored the demon, "B-But I can't just drop the guy, y'know? I know he's b-bein' less than Gucci tonight, b-but Shen's got his shinin' m-m-moments. He does! It's just... I dunno..." The robot aimlessly gestured and drifted his sullen gaze onto a hanging rack of spareribs, words failing him. "...I guess I just... exp-pected m-m-more outta him, but that's egg on m-my f-face, huh?" It was painful seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses. Kev should know.

    Another round of silence fell between the pair, neither knowing what to say or how, as several unspoken questions echoed within the freezer. Do they kick the guy out? Do they let him finish eating and then kick his butt to the curb? Scaramouche wanted to avoid a scene if he could help it, but the boys wanted nothing more than to feed Shen to the wild boars.

    Do they follow the android's wishes, or do they show a lil' tough love?

    To be friendly or to be ruthless?

    To thump or not to thump?

    That was indeed the question on Boon's mind, but he understood how difficult this was for the silvery robot trembling before him. Lu and him really were like two peas in a pod... "Hm, well." The demon scratched at his temple and offered a reassuring smile. Scaramouche seemed to fancy those! "How 'bout this, Mochi? We let the guy enjoy his free meal, his one and only, and then play it straight from here on out. He ain't gettin' no more special treatment after this, fair deal? And if he breaks your heart, we break his face." And, just because Boon could, he took his meaty fist and pounded it into his awaiting palm, letting his point drive itself home. "We'll scramble his face so good, he'll look like a damn omelette!"

    "Hon~!" Oh, the robot just loved it when Boon flexed those delicious muscles of his. Just not at himself! "Those are term-m-ms I can agree to," he nodded with a big ole grin, feeling in much higher spirits. "Let's p-play it m-my way for now, b-b-b-but as soon as it gets sour?" Scaramouche mirrored the demon's brutish display and winced with instant regret, shaking out his hands. Ow, ow, ow, cold, brittle metal, AGONY! Must. Keep. Grinning...! "T-Then ya can serv-ve m-me up a b-breakfast p-platter~!"

    "Hot-diggity-dawg, I like me the sound of that!" Boon cheered. "Now c'mon! Let's get ya outta this icebox before ya freeze to death. All your shiverin' is gettin' me all chilly, brrr!"

    Together, they exited the freezer and once again resumed their duties, the staff of The Moonshine Tavern more harmonious than a barbershop quartet and now with a course of action in mind. Though the gangster hadn't the most impeccable of manners and, frankly, wasn't expected to, the red flags had been spotted and were consequently under close observation. With any luck (and a bit of foresight on Shen's part), no hearts will be shattered and no brutal thumpings will be given, because nobody - not even Collins - wanted to see the holidays ruined by unfortunate and completely unnecessary events.

    Here's hoping, huh?



    "Here we gooooo~! Last but definitely not least, dessert!" It had been quite a while before Scaramouche's grinning mug resurfaced; but, when it had, it thankfully came attached with a scrumptious and belly-warming serving of the tavern's famous (or infamous, depending on your dietary needs) apple-walnut bread pudding! The android briskly stepped on over and lowered the plate beside Shen's left arm. "Hon hon~! If ya didn't need a dentist before, you'll be needin' one after this!" he winked. "Anyway, nothin' like a mouth-waterin' dessert to top the night off! How was the crab? I hope it was to your likin'~! The lil' rugrats put up a fight until the bitter end." But didn't bother to knife-fight, shame!
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Shen Woo on Wed Dec 19, 2018 5:17 pm

    Eh, it was just the way of the headstrong idiots in a gang. The gang he'd been in were immature, nasty louts just like him; it was a miracle that Shen didn't do much more than spitting the clinking shells and flipping the shells like coins. Once he'd finished the crab, he gave a chuckle and licked his lips. That had been quite delicious, quite wild. "Come now, buddy. I'm sure it's not that bad, right?" Right? Then again, he was used to the foul smell of the sea.

    "It was delectable. And music to my ears at the same time. You've got a magic touch, my dear piper." He grinned. "Ooof, and I know I will. The insatiable sweet tooth, oh it cries out!" He tried to make a dramatic motion, like a goof. No, much like a certain ex-friend of his that he didn't realize that "he who fights monsters" could apply to him about.

    He then paused. "Say, ah, Scaramouche. Plannin' on a break this evenin'?" He tilted his head curiously.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Scaramouche on Thu Dec 20, 2018 3:17 am

    "Oh no, it's bad~!" Scaramouche laughed. "I dunno 'bout you, babu, but my olfactory sensors are on fleek. The sea and its myriad of creepy-crawlies just ain't for me." Ugh, don't get the android started on that wretched seaweed aroma, either... Talk about yuck! Smelled like rotten eggs, salt, icky fish, and who-knows-what else. What was it about the ocean that captivated organics so? Maybe it was their inexplicable fascination with the briny unknown, or the radiant allure of shimmering waves leading far into the horizon... Either way, can't say Scaramouche was a fan!

    "It was delectable. And music to my ears at the same time. You've got a magic touch, my dear piper."

    Mm~! If only Shen knew.

    A pleased smile curled up the android's face as he imitated his best Knock Out posture. Weight on one leg, hand on hip, chest swollen with pride, etc. Maximum swagger, ladies and gangsters! "Well, I do have the best teacher in all of the Breach," he purred effortlessly, smug as a bug in a rug. Or a pampered puss in pajamas, depending on tastes. "Glad to have your seal of approval, though~! It's probably not 100% exactly like home, but I hope it's close to it!" Scaramouche was still a lil' iffy about killing critters right then and there on the kitchen table, but maybe - assuming he got his metal mitts on a great steal - he'd dabble in more seafood for next year? If nothing else, it'd certainly be excellent experience (and it'd see Lunette licking her chops for something other than synthetic meat). Perhaps he should start with something more exotic, like mahi mahi or lob - "...Oh, a break?" The android hesitated in his wiping of the bar counter and eyeballed Shen with a clueless stare.

    ...Ah, a break! As in a brief reprieve from chores; a period of recuperation. That's definitely what Shen was referring to, right? Scaramouche chortled beneath his artificial breath and resumed cleaning the wooden counter with wide, even sweeps of his bar towel. "Not particularly, no~!" he smiled, lifting a few coasters as he worked, "Already took my mandatory breaky-poo for the day, so I'm Gucci! I don't usually faff about until it gets way later. Or until Lu wants to head out and dabble in a bit of mischief~!" Strange, why was the brawler asking? Maybe it was to shoot the shit?

    If so, Scaramouche did enjoy shooting the shit with their patrons! Helped pass the time that much quicker.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Shen Woo on Thu Dec 20, 2018 10:46 am

    "As on fleek as your fashion. Unlike me in my, ah 'Canadian Tuxedo'." After all, he was wearing jeans and a denim jacket, or as folks called it, the Canadian Tuxedo. So nicknamed because the legendary Bing Crosby had once nearly been rejected from an upscale hotel in Vancouver for wearing the very outfit, prompting Levi's to make a literal denim tuxedo. But of course, luckily, Shen's T-shirt wasn't so lame. It was just a plain pink tee because of course the guy wore pink. Pink was the manliest color in the goddamn rainbow.

    He winked and grinned. "Might I say, your teacher has the magic touch too? I mean, they taught you well." He couldn't help but compliment whoever taught Scaramouche as well. "Oh, it's so close I almost thought I was in Shanghai again." Well, that part was true. For a moment, the taste of the crab had brought back the great memories of all those restaurants his gang used to pile into.

    "Well damn. I really enjoy chewin' the ol' breeze with ya though." A mixed metaphor? From Shen's mouth? Yeah, sometimes that happened. English wasn't quite his native tongue so of course sometimes he mixed up "chewing the fat" and "shooting the breeze"--or "shooting the shit" as it were. "Oho, what kind of mischief you two gettin' up to?" He propped his chin on his hand curiously, winking like he obviously knew it had to be something that you didn't discuss in polite company. Good thing Shen wasn't polite company.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Scaramouche on Thu Dec 20, 2018 6:48 pm

    Two questions churned within Scaramouche's processors: one, what was a Canadian; and two, who benefited from wearing all that denim? A quick internet search answered the first query, but no dice on the second. Guess it was a matter of opinion! Apparently this 'Canadian Tuxedo' would've come about had Aku not done his... uh, Aku-things? These 'normal' Earths were such strange places, man. "Well hey, denim may not be in my cards, but ya seem to pull it off well enough~!" Scaramouche replied. The android was still getting used to wearing pants. With long and sculpted legs like these, it was almost criminal hiding them from the world. Lunette seemed to enjoy whenever he wore a pair, though, and that's truthfully all that mattered. "And what kind of pied piper would I be if I didn't dress for the part, eh~?" Not a very good one, that's what! With how dark and grungy home was, a splash of color didn't hurt. Having a bombastic wardrobe was also a great conversational starter!

    "Might I say, your teacher has the magic touch too? I mean, they taught you well."

    As if it's any mystery as to who Scaramouche's teacher really was~! The robot looked up and flashed a not-so-modest cock-eyed grin. "Considerin' she's the bodacious dame who runs this place, I'd say your praise is right on the trolley!" he remarked brightly. Gotta hand it to Lunette; when it came to food, the Anitra knew her spices and herbs like nobody's business. She could take any bland meal and turn it into a real five-star experience! It's too bad the android couldn't eat... He was seriously missing out!

    "Yeah? Hon hon, well I'm glad to hear that too, baby~!" Scaramouche swiped a couple of used glasses off the bar and entertained a brief juggling act before setting 'em inside a bin hidden underneath the counter. Gonna have to wash these bad boys ASAP. "I tried to get the real deal - the good shit, y'know?" No kiddos around, no soccer moms to judge. He curtly laughed, boisterous as usual, and busied his silvery hands with rotating bottles of liquor so their brands proudly displayed forward. "The great thing about livin' in a hodge-podge meltin' pot such as this, is that ya got all manners of cultures and cuisines at your fingertips," he elaborated, meandering back to the gangster with a smile. "I hit up a few Chinese markets down at the city to see what they were hawkin' - y'know, trawlin' around for exotic ingredients and new recipes for Lu - and wasn't disappointed when I saw their wares. You should, like, go down there sometime if ya haven't already, babe! If nothin' else, it'd be a great exercise in flexin' your Shanghai guns~!" Aimlessly browsing up and down the many vibrant stalls was perhaps one of Scaramouche's favorite time-wasters, and that went double for haggling in a foreign language as he tried clinching an out-of-this-world discount for himself. Bonus points if he got to shout and jam up the shopkeepers for an additional 15% off!

    "Well damn. I really enjoy chewin' the ol' breeze with ya though."

    Nyehe~! That classic bilingual mix-up. Scaramouche was polite, though, and didn't see reason to correct his guest. "Nothin' like flappin' your gums and wastin' air~!" he winked. There was so much one could learn just by rubbing elbows and hearing all the latest hub-bub in someone's life. Truly, the art of speech was a sought after skill! Having said that, the robot had the distressing habit of landing in hot water because he couldn't keep his metal trap respectful. It was just so much fun, argh! And hey, if it was warranted, it was warranted. Some idiots needed a healthy dose of shit-talking to jump-start their woefully inadequate brains, leaving the android to oh-so-nobly volunteer for the job. Taking the piss out of others also came with the territory of processing information a whole lot faster than your average Joe Schmoe! He can't talk shit if he doesn't wanna get hit, however, even if Scaramouche sometimes couldn't help himself from trading a barb or two.  

    "Oh, just the usual~!" Scaramouche teased, keeping his response painfully vague. He finished placing a handful of fresh coasters down on the bar and drummed his metal fingertips against the wood, leaning forward. "It's wintertime now, so there ain't much I can technically do," he continued, "but we keep busy! Ice-skatin', window-shoppin', walkin' around and enjoyin' all the holiday lights, etc... Y'know, just your average couple's stuff. I'd tell ya the really suggestive details, but I'm afraid my better half'll stomp down here and wring my aluminum neck, hon hon~!" She'd wrap those sexy kitten mittens around Scaramouche's throat and throttle him like a gobbling Thanksgiving turkey!

    Which would've been kinky as Hell, but y'know.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Shen Woo on Thu Dec 20, 2018 10:54 pm

    Now, no one really benefitted from wearing that much denim. Especially not Shen. Certainly not Shen. He looked like fashion roadkill that honestly needed to be read the house down for filth at all the denim he was donning. "Practical does seem to suit me, huh?" Practical. Yeah. Maybe if he was on a motorcycle. But he really wasn't. "You'd be piss-poor if you weren't on fleek!" He snapped his finger and gave a huge grin. "Though you're more than the pied piper, m'dear piper. You're the sassiest bro, and you're sassin' with fashion!" After all, Scaramouche was the assassin with the sassin'!

    "Then my compliments to you and your lovely Lu!" He had a huge grin. Sadly, he couldn't really say that he could have the same luck as Scaramouche and Lunette, who were so successful and skilled. Mind you, he was an okay chef in his own right--inasomuch as he was a damn good home cook when he wanted to actually do something! "You know, I'm going to have to do that. Thanks for the tip actually. Might be nice to be able to make some authentic food from the homeland for the first time in a while."

    "I know right?" Hey, that was Shen's hobby other than getting his idiot face punched in. Mind you, unlike some folks, he didn't seem to learn that his habit of getting his face punched in was probably largely dangerous for his health. Then again, what health? Shen wasn't exactly the pinnacle of health if his brain was anything to go by.

    Okay, ice skating sounded kind of cute; he could imagine that but not like the fancy figure skaters or sub-zero ice skaters. That was something he'd have loved to do with a special someone, especially a morose assassin. Window-shopping, now that was a pasttime he knew too well because broke guys tended to have to rely on just looking without buying. Enjoying the lights? Well, okay he was doing that too. That was nice. And then there was the thing he thought the most about. "Ah yes, don't wanna risk the wrath, you wild minxes." He made an admonishing finger wag that seemed quite playful. "Ah, the healthy love life though. Y'all are couples goals."

    Man, thank goodness Shen couldn't read minds though. The dumb, kinky bastard.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Scaramouche on Mon Dec 31, 2018 7:21 pm

    "Hon~! On fleek..." Scaramouche chuckled and flipped an imaginary curl of locks over his shoulder. "It's true, it's true~! Always a pleasure when someone appreciates one of my less unsavory claims to fame." No point elaborating on the other ones, though! Not if they wanted to keep the mood buoyant. The robot winked and threw on a pair of bright yellow dish gloves, flipping on the bar sink as he cheerfully washed the bin of used dishes at his side. "And no shame in bein' practical, y'know?" The android paused only to squirt globs of dish soap before getting right back to scrub-a-dub-dubbing, looking up every so often as he spoke with Shen. "It keeps ya down to earth; focused. I'm admittedly too much of a fool for pragmatism, but I recognize its merits~! Much like denim, for example."

    Now, it'd be hard getting Scaramouche to wear a pair of denim pants, but he'd agree to it for the fact that the material had its unique qualities. It had a lot of options, it was durable, they went with plenty of styles, and they made Scaramouche's ass looks good. Lunette practically went gaa-gaa whenever he slipped into a pair! They also felt terrific while having a dirty, spontaneous romp on the office floor.

    "You know, I'm going to have to do that. Thanks for the tip actually. Might be nice to be able to make some authentic food from the homeland for the first time in a while."

    "Why not, right~?" Scaramouche grinned, tipping his hat. There were few greater pleasures than conversing in one's first language and feeling that wonderful solidarity between speakers. It was the equivalent of a handshake across signals! "It'd be a pleasant way to spend a lazy afternoon, and I imagine your stomach'll cry out for all the delicious edibles the merchants have to offer. I envy ya, y'know~! The ability to taste is a powerful, powerful thing." Maybe one day...

    But no, sorry~! As much as a gabber the android was, he knew better than to spill the deets of their more personal lives. "Shame on me, I know~!" Scaramouche laughed, drying the glasses one-by-one as he set 'em aside. "But the missus'll have my head on a silver platter, so I gotta play it safe. Still, it's a wonderful time to go out and see the sights. Have a few drinks... meander around the city... throw a couple of snowballs... Yes siree, there ain't nothin' like the season~! So long as ya stay bundled up and warm, of course. Otherwise, screw it, baby~!" A fan of Winter the android was not, but he made the most of it to the best of his mechanical ability. Scaramouche killed the faucet and removed his gloves, studying Shen's face. "What're your plans for the upcomin' holidays?" he inquired.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Shen Woo on Mon Dec 31, 2018 8:52 pm

    Oh, indeed he couldn't help but appreciate the fashion, even here. Even his work clothes stayed on fleek! "Well, we gotta have claims to fame that ain't our darker halves, yanno?" Now Shen's, Shen's claim to fame that wasn't the darker half was sure as hell not fighting. And it probably wasn't even the fact that he was as transient as ever to his company, just like the very man he shaded for the same behavior. No, his only other claim to fame was probably that he was a bit of a foodie himself and could cook when he really and truly wanted to--and of course eating others' dishes helped him develop his palette all the more. "Ain't that the truth? I mean, I do have my moments of flashiness. I mean, that pink shirt and the baring my muscles and all. But...see, even your on-fleek work clothes, practical but nice-lookin', you know?" He couldn't help but realize that it was a good combination of practical meeting fashionable. Truly, Ash Crimson had rubbed off on Shen whether the brawler wanted to admit it or not.

    He chuckled and grinned. "Ya grok me on this! And of course, sampling the wares'll help me find the quality ingredients to make things for others too." He then gave a chintap. "It is indeed. And while it's a blessing, I'll admit, sometimes it is a hell of a curse. Two words: ghost peppers. Do not take them lightly. Cooking with them is fine but...do not believe that they won't be a powerful force of the Scoville scale." Yes, he had tried ghost peppers before. Actually, he still wanted to try Carolina Reaper peppers, but oh how he still regretted the ghost peppers! There had not been enough milk to quench even a little bit of one! Which of course meant that there would not be enough milk to deal with a Carolina Reaper either.

    He gave a soft chuckle. "Don't blame you there, if I had a mister or a missus I'd probably not kiss and tell so easy either." He then smirked "Mmm, but the winter, and snowball fights sound too fun. Maybe even makin' some sorta snow sculpture for folks to enjoy." Not that he'd make a vulgar one. No, that was reserved for places further from the city. But making, say, a howling wolf, or a Tianlong? He might do that just to give people something to enjoy until it melts. "Not sure what m'plans are yet, really. Might cook for folks and stuff." He really wasn't all that big on holidays if he was being absolutely honest. Cooking for others sounded kind of nice, and a good way to spread some cheer.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Scaramouche on Tue Jan 01, 2019 4:10 pm

    "Well, we gotta have claims to fame that ain't our darker halves, yanno?"

    "Too true, too true," the robot nodded in agreement, leaning his hip against the bar counter. "And ya mean these old tatters...?" Scaramouche pinched the fabric of work shirt, though quality, and couldn't help but notice all the icky stains and spills he'd acquire throughout the day's plethora of chores. One could even say that each one represented a fond, if not messy memory. "Eh~!" He shrugged and relaxed his fingers, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. "It's not quite as flashy as I'd like, but I ain't about to ruin designer clothin' with cocktail sauce and batter, y'know what I'm sayin'? I'd sooner be put out back like Ol' Yeller and shot than commit such an offense~!" Yeah, have you seen those exorbitant price tags? Scaramouche wasn't exactly pissing money left and right!

    ...Hm! Ghost Peppers and the Scoville scale... A quick internet search revealed the latter to be some kind of... heat index with peppers? While the former was apparently very, very hot! The hottest type of pepper was this 'Carolina Reaper' and 'Trinidad Scorpion' respectively, but these were largely Earth specimens. Scaramouche offered a wry grin, "Duly noted, baby~! I ain't one to cook with spices, seein' how I can't really gauge 'em, but I'll see what Lu knows from her world! I bet she's got somethin' hot lurkin' around here..."

    The biggest downside of being a robot: no taste! At least, a robotic model like Scaramouche. Oh he could smell, sure. But what good was a sense of smell if you couldn't taste? Peppers, even the hot ones, barely elicited a reaction out of him other than, well, they were hot-smelling.  

    He could 'smell' the capsaicin via a cursory olfactory scan, but that's it.

    "Oh? Consider yourself a chef, d'ya?" For some reason, the very idea was humorous to the android. Was the gangster like their resident Boon, a fan of punching his fists into meat and calling it tender? Or did Shen prefer a more delicate approach, savoring the art of culinary cuisine with a stylized flourish? He readjusted his paddy hat and kept on grinning, "I think it'd be sweet of ya to cook for others, Woo-Woo~! After all, that's the point of the upcomin' Christmas season, no? To spread holiday cheer and be generous? When it comes to organics, there's nothin' better than the gift of great homemade cookin'~! ...And, well, I suppose a car. But who's really gonna cough up the scratch for that?" Another shrug, another purse of his metal lips. "Ah well! I guess folks better learn how to cope with disappointment now as opposed to later, huh? Anyway, how's your sake, babe? Care for a refill or are ya finished wettin' your whistle~?"
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Shen Woo on Tue Jan 01, 2019 11:06 pm

    And yet, sometimes Shen feared the darker half. "This is true, this is true. I mean, designer does cost a lot and cost takes hard work, and hard work, well..." He nodded to Scaramouche. "Here's to the hardest-working kick-ass bro from the metal gunshow I know." Did he rhyme? Yes, such rhyme, much Shen, very wow. And Shen, well, he knew a thing or two about designer--namely that he'd never be able to afford that even with the purse from street fighting tournaments. But that was okay. He wasn't a designer guy. Not like he knew Scaramouche to be.

    He cackled. "Well, don't play with the spice too hard! And always wash your hands after it. Oh, and definitely don't touch like, your eyes--optics--or ears...or even really your nose..." He grimaced. No, you did not want to get spice in any of those orifices or on certain parts if you were organic. Facial mucosa were delicate like that. He learned that the hard way, actually. But he wasn't about to tell some of those stories, nor what else he was going to hint at. "And definitely make sure you get all those spicy oils off if you're going to be with Lunette in that special way. Don't wanna set her on the painful kind of fire." How'd he learn that? Shame on you, Shen wasn't going to kiss and tell!

    He gave a grin. "I do. I mean, my gang did run a restaurant for a while when I was younger and sometimes even a kid had to cook and learn the recipes." Before little Yuhua Wu became Shen Woo, puncher of meat and metal, he had been little Yuhua Wu, stirrer of pots and steamer of various dumplings, boiler of various noodles and a dab hand with most rice dishes. "I think so too. Maybe I'll even make Western baked goods. I mean, I learned more from my teammates in the King of Fighters tournaments than just fighting, you know..." Ah, like French recipes, Irish recipes, and of course, to never, ever try to sneak tomato juice into Duo Lon's drinks lest he wanted to know what it was like to have a butt covered in non-poisonous but very painful needles, when he already had a phobia of needles. "Well, I don't know anyone who would cough up the dough for a car unless they were exorbantly rich and trying to throw it away and show off. Which eliminates joes like you and me--the guys who work hard, and believe that somethin' from the heart is better than somethin' from the wallet." He gave a warm smile. "It was wonderful, though to be fair, I'm done wetting my whistle. Best to be tipsy or buzzed and not slurring my words and throwin' the punches, yeah?" He knew his limit, and when to cut himself off. It was one of the few things he did know, really. His alcohol tolerance, that was.
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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

    Post by Scaramouche on Fri Jan 04, 2019 6:52 pm

    The darker half need only be feared if provoked beyond reasonable measure. Otherwise, the android would rather faff about and be a general nuisance to anyone with a set of auditory organs. No clue about Shen's, though! Was the gangster's shadow darker than the tone of his skin, or was it simply 'dark' like white chocolate was 'white'? Possibilities, possibilities...

    "O-Oh, uh...!" It was a pity Scaramouche couldn't blush (and his colored cheeks didn't count). He put on a modest smile and tried - that's the keyword - not to seem awkward in front of his guest. "T-Thanks, baby, but it's like I said, yeah?" The robot winked, wagging a playful finger. "I can't take all the credit - really, I can't~! I only work hard 'cause I got decent role models this go around. If left to my usual devices, I'd pretty much, well, be a bum." A colorful bum, and one who played the blades like nobody else, but still a wayward vagabond searching for the next great adventure and a purse to loot. It was true that Scaramouche had a taste for the finer things in life, but he was also a creature of habit and knew his desires like the back of his metal hand. A traveling assassin today, a dishwasher tomorrow! Wait...

    "Well, don't play with the spice too hard! And always wash your hands after it. Oh, and definitely don't touch like, your eyes--optics--or ears...or even really your nose..."

    Scaramouche just kinda... glanced down at his hands and looked back at Shen, blinking in visible confusion. "I... I'm a robot, though...?" he answered tentatively. Like, that was pretty damn apparent, right? Metal frame? LED display? Rivets out in the open? Surely the folks around here knew that robots like Scaramouche weren't susceptible to something organic like spices. With what eyes? With what nose? Ears!? The android frowned, his face contorted in a slight grimace as he processed all of these conflicting particulars. "I wash my hands, sure - that's, like, what every cook should do - but I kinda fail to see your point, babe," Scaramouche remarked with a shrug. "Just so we're on the level here, babu: my model doesn't come with those bodily responses. For example, I don't eat, I don't taste, and I don't react to spices. All I got is sight, smell, touch, and hearin' - and I of course know way better than to trigger an organic's TRPV channels after handlin' the chilies. What d'ya take me for, a KitchenAid appliance~? I know my stuff, jack!" Him? Touch Lunette after chopping up the habaneros? Oh no, only if Scaramouche wanted to become the next line of tin cans at the tavern. It does make a 'bot wonder, though... Had the brawler actually rubbed his chili-dusted fingers against someone's urethra or rectum, or...?

    "Ungh..." Scaramouche's lips twitched at the thought. Made him feel a phantom burning pain in his pelvic plating, and the android didn't even have a - well, no... that's actually not true. The less unsaid about certain functions, the better.  

    "...Which eliminates joes like you and me--the guys who work hard, and believe that somethin' from the heart is better than somethin' from the wallet."

    Oh the irony.

    The android merely smiled and began putting away the sake, wiping its condensation off the bar counter. "I used to know a few," he answered, keeping it casual. Pimps, oligarchs, fat-cat politicians, you name it. No one he really wanted to discuss great lengths about. "But that was then and this is now, baby! I'm sure anyone here can afford a sweet pair of wheels if they put their nose to the grindstone. Why, even I'm thinkin' about ponyin' up the cash for one someday~!" But certainly not anytime soon, and nothing like a sports car or a luxury sedan. Knock Out was as sporty as Scaramouche's nerves will handle. He chuckled at the thought and draped a used bar towel over his shoulder, grin as wide as sin. Yeah, he knows: got enough ivories for a freakin' piano.

    "Anyway, what Western goodies d'ya feel like makin', babu? C'mon, you can tell ole Scaramouche~! I won't ruin the surprise." Here's hoping it wasn't fruitcake, because organics seemed rather... fussy about the holiday treat. Maybe it was the candied fruit, or the cake itself being saturated with brandy?  

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    Re: Where Everybody Knows Your Name

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