[Memory] And So We Meet Again... (Benton)

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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Aziza
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Wed Aug 01, 2018 6:24 pm

Yaris 8, 2715
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The last thing the spoke had expected was for Eon to place his hand on her. It was initially quite stiff, as if he was almost afraid to touch her, but it relaxed gradually, bleeding comfort into her. The young woman almost felt ready to lean into him, to lay her head on his shoulder to seek greater closeness and comfort. However, the witch didn't think he'd appreciate it; dealing with a sobbing girl already seemed to take something of a toll on him. Instead, Aziza sat, enjoying what contact he'd allow and drawing comfort from it. It wasn't just his touch but also his words that provided some relief.

She gazed at him intently, eyes a shining chestnut, still wet with tears. The amount he'd quoted for the drugs had been registered and silently accepted, the witch hooked on the drug dealer's succeeding words, her expression softened. She tilted her head, regarding him with fresh eyes. She hadn't expected this from him, the soft centre that had been revealed in him and even more surprisingly, his distress. She didn't know if he was distressed on her account or if there was something going on within him. His face was one of turmoil, his mouth moving as if he was going to say something but struggled to spit it out.

Aziza leaned closer to him, stroking the side of his face with incredibly gentleness before she leaned forward to press a feather light kiss on his cheek.

"Easy, hama. Don't worry yerself now. Ye've done enough, Eon, oes?" she murmured, standing and moving her hand to briefly rest on his head, almost ready to lean him against her chest to soothe his anxieties. "I'll get ye yer ging. Gimme a few," she assured him, moving away from him towards the kint. She stepped inside, moving with a light tread, listening closely to see if she could hear her mother shifting around or if her breathing had slowed in sleep. She found the various locations where the coins were stashed, counting out forts and hats and the occasional tally until she had the amount that he'd specified. She placed the coins in her skirt, making a little fold in the material in order to facilitate carrying it.

Aziza returned to him, carefully spilling the contents onto the ground beside him. "Epaemo 'bout the manna ging but I do ne have many big coins. Ye can count it though, it's all there. I do ne expect ye just to trust me on it but... ye did say ye trusted me, even if ye could ne show it. I have an idea 'bout that," she informed him, settling back into the seat beside him. The witch picked up the cup of tea that she'd abandoned, cradling it in her grasp and drinking from it deeply, appreciating the taste of the alcohol, even if it was slightly dulled by the tea. There was a great temptation to fetch the bottle of spirits, to crack it open for the two of them to share. The girl would honestly like to share more than a bottle of alcohol with him, her upset making her inclined to seek comfort in other ways, simply wanting someone to hold her close. Now wasn't the time though.

"Ye know what I use the Coca for, know it ent for pleasure, and that I... I need what ye can give me," she murmured. "My daoa may not want it, does ne want the 'pendence on it, but I can ne do naught for her. In Mugroba, I knew some plants, could make tonics for pain and the like but here... I do ne know what to do. I need the Coca, ye chen? So I want to offer something. Ye do ne have to answer now; I'll like be in the Harbour for all the Dry Season so ye can think on it."

She set her empty cup down, reaching tentatively for his hand, seeking eye contact as she touched him lightly. "I move around a lot and the gollies let me do more'n they'd let you do. I can... I can move drugs for you. If you'll let me," Aziza whispered, her eyes deadly serious.

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Benton Borteillo
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: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
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Thu Aug 02, 2018 1:09 pm

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Yaris 8, 2715....
Benton's hand moved absentmindedly to the memory of the kiss on his cheek as she moved to fetch his fee. The soft kindness in which she regarded him was unfamiliar. He was easily just another man for some whore to get money out of, just another human who didn't know his place in the gutters of galdor society, just another aging man whose life was spiraling to an anti-climatic end, but she let him feel both valid and human, two things that rarely went hand-in-hand. The urge to reciprocate the efforts, let her know how truly important and real her personality and fears and anger were and how much she mattered more than the money she was fetching was all too real, all too unfamiliar.

It was as if he were becoming human again.

Yes, the hard exterior of the clockwork machinery he had become was melting away, and, for a moment, he was moving on his own as the gears of empathy remembered how to spin. The clattering of coins on the ground beside him brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked at Aziza with amusement. The coins would certainly provide an interesting musical accompaniment to his walk back home. He leaned down to count them, rubbing the dirt away with his thumb so as to reveal the small faces on each coin. He listened as he counted, adding tallies, hats, and forts quickly in his head and lining up the counted coins down his thighs. He stopped, thirteen forts in his hand, as she laid her hand on his to pause him with one shill and five tallies counted out. He looked up into her eyes, the serious set into them unnerving.

She was offering to work for him. Never, in the decade that he had worked illegal substances, never once had he had a partner. He had made the operation his own, not wishing to rely on the work on anyone else until necessary. He had those who harvested, who supplied, who produced, of course, but the business itself was crafted and maintained by his hands. Every deal was done by his tongue, every trade was from his hand. He managed well, he liked to think, but with such an offer, he wasn't going to let his stubbornness get in the way of an idealistic business opportunity! The wick was right; with the ability to persuade the mona, the yoke of oppression was only slightly lighter around her neck than it was his. Her leash was slightly longer, stretchier, perhaps, and there was business at the end of it. It was an opportunity for him to show his trust, as well, she had said. It wasn't nearly as an influencing factor as the money he could make, but, no, it was still a perk. Yet, the more involved someone got in the business, the larger danger they were in, the higher the bounty the Seventen placed on their head went. She'd be much safer if she didn't get involved, or even if she worked for the Bad Brothers rather than feared Silas Hawke sending someone after her. As much as Benton was a man who could view a helping hand as an expendable resource, he couldn't risk someone getting cold feet mid-deal. Her safety was also a worry to him, he supposed.

"You understand the danger you're offering to put yourself in, don't you? The Seventen will come after you in Vienda and Brunnhold if they find you out or even suspect you, and, here in Old Rose, you've Silas Hawke and the Bad Brothers to worry about. They won't hesitate to kill you or torture you," he whispered, matching her serious tone and leaning closer to her. "That's not to say I don't want your help. I'm not the type to refuse a business opportunity, as dangerous as it is. This would be an amazing opportunity for my business, and I'd be a fool not to take it. I just want you to understand what you're getting yourself into, the unwritten conditions, if you will. This business isn't something you can just leave for another job one day. Once you're in, you're in for life, even if you quit moving drugs, quit working for me, you will always have a record on you."

He leaned back, pulling his hand from Aziza and looking at the pile of forts still there. He began to line them up with the rest of the coins lined up on his legs casually. "Does your offer still stand?" he asked, not looking up from his coins as he counted under his breath.
In hell I'll be in good company.
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Aziza
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Thu Aug 02, 2018 3:24 pm

Yaris 8, 2715
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The witch chewed the inside of her cheek as she watched him count, the man's attention to the money speaking a great deal about how much of it he was used to handling it. He seemed to count it effortlessly, adding up the many different coins that had taken her time to gather. She was far less familiar with money than he was.

Still, she saw him pause as she touched him, his counting frozen as he took in her offer, gears almost visibly turning in his head. The young woman had thought about this, thought about it a great deal in fact; this offer wasn't one that she made lightly. Hadn't she known when they met and he refused to give his true name that this sort of thing was dangerous? Hadn't she had a chance to see something of the Seventen since then and heard whispers about the Bad Brothers? The truth was that she needed the drugs that he offered and she trusted an individual more than she trusted a shady organisation, one that was spoken about in the Harbour with reverent fear. Apparently even the Anaxi government were frightened of the Bad Brothers. It meant that Aziza wasn't inclined to work with them, even if it was only as a customer. Still, knowing about it didn't do anything to stop the cold fingers that seemed to walk up her spine as Benton talked, her voice incredibly serious and yet also so very matter-of-fact.

She shuddered slightly, leaning away from him, gaze averted as she clasped her hands together in her lap. "Oes, I know. I've thought on this, ye chen? I ent just thrown this at ye now like a sandstorm appearing on a clear day," she threw back, making a light clucking noise with her tongue. "If the tickers find me with drugs, even that Coca, I could be in deep shit anyway so I ent gonna worry about them. If they find me with any, they can see my daoa and have an idea who it's for. They know our sort might have drugs anyway, 'specially the tyat - come 'cross a few a them here - but beyond that, I ent the kind ye expect to carry, ye chen? I'm a witch, oes, but that means I use 'em, not sell 'em. 'Sides, I'd only be middle, wou'n't I? Not as interesting as ye," she pointed out, licking her lips.

Her dark gaze finally returned to him, watching him count. "As for the Bad Brothers... it's the same, ent it? I still do ne look the type. And I'm sure they'd be happy to grab me just for buying from ye, squeeze me to see what they can get out of me or did ye ne think 'bout that?" the spoke challenged, eyes fixed on him. "If they'll let that slide, me buying from ye, then that's more'n half the problem, ent it? If they'll allow that then me showing up, coming to see ye, well then I can easy say I'm yer lover. Ent a lie, exactly. Once counts it as truth, oes?"

She glanced towards the kint, biting her lip as if fearing that her mother would have heard it. "Wou'n't say ne to it again for the look o' the thing and then some," she told the air softly before she turned back to him. "Case it ent clear, oes, the offer still stands. I ent as mung as my daoa thinks I am. I'll be picking up herbs of my own, drying them out and that soon so some things'll be easier to hide than others, and I 'spect my work'd be a benny cover. I'm already a laoso in the tickers' and the gollies' eyes, they see what they 'spect and I've managed in Anaxas so far."

The spoke smoothed out her skirt, taking a moment to breathe deeply. [color=#3d71a1]"Do ne make it took regular, give me more sometimes and I can stash it - I know where to hide things - so it ent predictable. I'll always come back to ye, ye don't have to worry about that. I may be a spoke and I may be a pina bit wild by yer standards but I like ye, Eon,"[/color] she admitted, reaching out to poke the spot on the left side of his face where she knew his dimple appeared, a slight smile on her own lips.

"If ye want to do business, for sure I mean, I can always fish out that bottle of spirits. No point watering it with tea," Aziza whispered, something suggestive in her voice. She really wouldn't say no to his company, whatever amount of it he wanted to provide her with.
Last edited by Aziza on Fri Aug 03, 2018 7:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Benton Borteillo
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Fri Aug 03, 2018 12:22 am

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Yaris 8, 2715....
Benton simply shook his head, his tongue caught between his teeth as he smiled. She was not backing down from her choice, and he wouldn't try to talk her out of it. He only hoped the woman in the kint was still asleep.

She had everything thought through. She seemed to be expecting her own bravery in the face of the Seventen and Bad Brothers, and she hoped her fortitude was not built on pillars of wet sand. Benton had run into the Bad Brothers once or twice, had both had his ass beaten and beaten ass in that department. The Seventen, however, he had avoided. It was only a matter of time before he met one, though. Once she left Old Rose, the Seventen would be more so her problem than the Bad Brothers. The Seventen would leave her alive, at least. Either way, he was slightly worried of what a good hand of whatever mind magics gollies had could get her to reveal to an authority or Silas Hawke about his location. Perhaps counterintuitively, he would have to remain a little more private if she entered business with him. Every piece of information he gave her could kill him.

"You, my friend, are crazy," he sighed, but he meant it completely goodnaturedly, his smirk evident even in his voice.

"How long have you had this decided? Seems like you've been running this whole conversation over and over in your head so many times that you even have my lines memorized," he asked with light amusement as if he wasn't just talking about death and drugs and breaking the law. Whatever her answer, he would lean back in his seat. plucking up the coins he had counted and dumping them, in somewhat even divisions, in to the two low pockets of his jacket. There was a hat and a fort left over extra, and he handed it back to Aziza. He was drawing out his decision on purpose, though he had already made it.

"If you've truly decided, I doubt I can change your mind. You may as well go grab that bottle. Seems we've got a job promotion to celebrate," he laughed slightly. "A quiet celebration, of course," he added, eyeing the kint in which Nazia slept. He was sure the woman would come out and kill both of them if she heard the conversation; it was just a matter of who she killed first. He'd rather not be beat to death with the cane she held. There were many things that were not good for business development; being beat to death with a cane after the planning of one such business development was certainly one.

"I have a small following in Vienda, though many of those people come straight to me for their supply. I can get you their information, however, and contact them about whether or not they'd prefer to get their drugs secondhand in VIenda than travel here. We can figure out some packaging that is a little less obvious, perhaps something made of cloth? Hiding in plain sight- well, that's not important now." He waved the thought away with his hand, but added the patterns for drug hiding clothing to a bulletin board of plans in his head. "Brunnhold is my greatest interest. Those children are easily manipulated, and their parents sew their pants with endless pockets. I want to market laudanum there- it's supposed to amp up creativity and thought, and those kids will do about anything to get ahead of their classmates. Laudanum is, fortunately for business, highly addictive. Brunnhold addicted is good for us," he explained what was once an idealistic goal but now, with Aziza, was a coming opportunity. "It will not be hard, well, at least it will be easier for you than it ever had been for me. I've tried a few times, but even the little gollies don't want anything to do with some dirty human. You, however, well, you can prove yourself with this one." He smirked at her, his eyebrows raised slightly with expectation.

He picked up his tea, nearly untouched, and finished the now lukewarm substance quickly. "Another round?"
In hell I'll be in good company.
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Aziza
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Fri Aug 03, 2018 7:49 pm

Yaris 8, 2715
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"I'm a witch, ent I? Course I'm crazy," she teased, nudging him with her elbow as she grinned. His next question made her shrug, a signal that she wasn't wholly clear on the answer; it wasn't like she'd made a note of the date when it first sprang into her head.

"Do ne rightly know. 'Spose I started thinking on it while on denk. I might have had some o' the Coca myself at the time so I was on the creative side, weren't I?" she laughed, shaking her head. "Ne, it just made sense. I've gotta pay for things somehow, ent I?" Aziza added, looking at him with something of a challenge in her dark eyes. If he was trying to make her doubt herself then she wanted him to realise that she needed this sort of relationship, really needed it, and he wasn't likely to dissuade her. In truth, the witch didn't feel that she had much of a choice in the matter.

When he handed her back the extra coins, her brows came together, her mouth pouting. "Ging, can ne really make head nor tail of it. I'm fair mung about it," she complained, gazing at the little coins with a bemused expression. She clenched them in her palm, snorting when he seemed to admit defeat about changing her mind. Good, if he tried, he'd find it would be a losing battle; she could be an incredibly stubborn creature when she chose, especially when she felt she was on to a good thing. She giggled at the idea of being quiet though. She shook her head.

"Ah, I'm a witch, Eon. I ent gonna have a quiet caoja - ever. We can go down nearer the water, harbour proper. Ne point waking my daoa if she is sleeping and if she ent... well, better she not know things, ye chen?"

The spoke stood, jingling the coins in her hands, listening to what she could expect in this business. She made a face at the mention of Vienda, the capital a place that she found she didn't much like - they didn't like her kind there much. The prospect of corrupting gollies made her grin though. If they could get a foothold in Brunnhold, ruin some young gollies in the process then she'd be happy to do it. Maybe she could ply her trade, offer drugs to those who sneered at her fortune telling, serve them right for being all high and mighty. Maybe she wouldn't discriminate though.

"We'll see, will we ne? Now, leave it there and c'mon. C'mon! We having a caoja or what?" she questioned, encouraging him to follow her. She moved to the back of the kint, tossing the two coins in a corner, hardly interested as she fetched out the bottle of spirits. "Ye can stay here. Ye ent invited to our caoja," she told the osta as she put in an appearance. She gave her owner an imperious look as if to say, I wasn't interested in going anyway, as she trotted into the mobile home.

The young woman tugged a little at the front of her blouse, puffing out some air. "Hulali, it is fair hot, ent it? Maybe I ought to go for a dip in the water 'fore I melt. Yer lucky ye're so pale. My skin soaks up the heat like the sands. Ye can join me if ye want or ye can mind the bottle," she told Benton, heading off in the direction of the water, swinging the bottle absentmindedly at her side, not even conscious of the slight swagger in her steps and how it might make her ample figure look. She didn't even bother to check that the drug dealer was following, simply assuming that he'd come because why wouldn't he? He'd talked about celebrating after all.

At the water's edge, she set the bottle down, sitting on the ground to undo her shoes, kicking them off and dipping her burning toes into the cool liquid with a sigh of relief. She reached for the bottle, pulled out the stopper and took a swig, undoing another button on her blouse and flapping it; she didn't care about proper dress in this heat, even if her companion did. Her mouth twisted as she thought, the spoke wondering if she should strip off and dip into the water. It wasn't that she was shy, she just didn't want the drug dealer to feel put out; she doubted that he'd do the same.
Last edited by Aziza on Mon Aug 06, 2018 4:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Benton Borteillo
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: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
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Sun Aug 05, 2018 11:33 pm

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Yaris 8, 2715....
The amiable shore had not had the opportunity to rush to meet Benton's shoed feet imprinting its surface in some time. He had always quite liked the water; he liked the sound of the ocean inhaling and exhaling the tide, the salty smell of fish and water floating to the harbor, and the sight of birds and boats mingling alike on the ever out of reach horizon. He liked to pluck shells from the sand, pluck the washed up creatures from what they assumed were their graves and allow them to return to the arms of their ocean mother. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt the sands of Old Rose evading the pressure of his feet, but he could remember the first. Yes, he could remember jumping off the trade boat arriving from Bastia one winter's day, could recall how odd yet comforting the soft hug of dry sand around his frozen, wet feet had seemed when it was sweet and forgiving under his pruny feet after so long feeling rocking boards and frozen ground. He had spent so much time those first months walking up and down the beach, but the sand would no longer hold a trace of the trails worn by the feet of the lost 20-year old.

Perhaps they would leave the memory of this warm evening imprinted in a million grains of beige sand.

Aziza was already off towards the water, mumbling about the water and the differences in their skin color and the weather without any mind to him. Her personality was so unabashed and unseen before, and it made him smile lightly. She was oblivious to much, yet, her heart saw the smallest details, the slightest tremors, the hidden mazes, and the hairline cracks in the hearts it met. He shrugged off his coat- the coins in his pockets were awkward and loud, and, well, he was burning up, though he wouldn't admit it. He took his time carefully folding the jacket over the creases that already existed to avoid adding more mountain ranges of creases to the map of the jacket. He folded it over his arm and started after Aziza, now simply in the white button up and the grey slacks over black shoes. At the edge of the sand, he pulled off his shoes- sand was like nature's plague: catchable by all and unable to be removed as hard as one tries. He did not need to track more sand home than necessary. He pulled off his stockings, too, tucking them in his shoes and continuing through the sand with his fingers hooked into the backs of his shoes as they dangled. The sand evaded the pressure he put on it, and he sunk into its warm, soft surface. He set his coat and shoes in the sand a safe distance from the water and bent to cuff his slacks to mid-shin. His footprints followed beside Aziza's until he was standing beside her at the water's edge, the lip of the tide kissing his pale feet.

The sunlit water was dyed orange as if a painter had dipped her brush of orange paint into the clear water of her cup. For a time, Benton was silent, gazing across the water before him. He could see the water from his window, but, to see the very vastness of the water, the very forcefulness of the tides as the same body licked his toes so gently was astounding to him. The ocean told him of his insignificance but continued to wash his feet as if he were king of the sea itself.

He reached down to pluck the bottle of alcohol from Aziza's hands and took a fair drink of the liquid. Without acknowledging her much, he continued to walk farther into the water, the sea now lapping up his footprints the moment they were born. He was only a few feet from her when he stopped, the level of the water just barely beneath his rolled pants. The water was pleasantly cool around his ankles. He took another sip before tucking the bottle into his elbow, taking the freedom of his hands to roll up the sleeves of his shirt casually. He pulled the bottle from his elbow, and he turned with a genuine smile of happiness crinkling the corners of his grey-blue eyes pleasantly. He reached out the hand with the bottle invitingly.

"Are you coming?" he asked, a near childish satisfaction illuminating his face.They were celebrating, weren't they? They may as well enjoy the water, especially in the heat. He turned back towards the water, his hand around the neck of the bottle as he took another sip.
In hell I'll be in good company.
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Aziza
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Mon Aug 06, 2018 6:07 pm

Yaris 8, 2715
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Wet sand was going to end up coating her skirt but she didn't particularly care. It could easily be washed off and no wick would allow a bit of dirtiness bother them. You couldn't remain sterile, perfectly clean all the time, not if you actually wanted to live life. It was why she was glad to turn and discover that Benton had chosen to discard some of his layers, not keeping himself stiffly buttoned up. He wasn't keeping himself separate from the experiences he could be enjoying. The display of freedom made her grin, happily wiggling her toes into the soft grit of sand beneath her.

The witch closed her eyes, tilting her face up towards the sunlight as she leaned back on one hand, the bottle still clutched in the other. The sound of the surf was soothing, the ebb and flow of the tide spitting a soft salty spray that helped keep her cool. This way, she could really enjoy the feel of the sun's rays as they lit upon her skin, the scent of brine pleasant and inoffensive, not like the stink one found in the cities. Here there was no stink of sweat from bodies pressed too closely, people rubbing elbows. There were no scents of dead flowers and alcohol, the cloying perfumes worn by richer folk in such unnatural combinations, mingling with sweat and creating odours far more offensive than the ones they tried to mask. Here, the air was comparatively clean. They were far enough away from some of the unpleasant scents of the harbour like the reek of dumped human waste, rotting fish, seaweed that had caught and dried and decayed. This was a pleasant spot, the surf a pleasant and soothing background music, not intrusive or disruptive.

In truth, the young woman could understand the appeal of staying like this forever.

When he snatched the bottle from her grasp, the spoke opened an eye, regarding him with amusement as she considered the layers he'd ditched, the skin now on display. His pallor almost made him iridescent, seeming to shine from within as it reflected the light that fell on it. She almost wanted to tease him about it but she was also a little worried for him. Would he burn in this? She knew that some white people reddened easily and some reddened but it turned tan, while others simply tanned, largely unaffected by the sun. There was no easy way to predict how their skin would react but she understood that it was bloody painful - she'd burned a little before herself but it had taken some doing - and she didn't want the day to take a sour turn for him. Still, as he waded further into the water, exposing even more skin, she reasoned that he understood the limitations of his own hide. He didn't need Aziza to worry about him; he was big enough to look after himself.

"Oes, I'm coming! Keep yer clothes on now!" she called back, barking out a laugh at her own teasing words. She got to her feet, brushing off her sandy skirt, contemplating if she simply strip completely or maintain a layer or two. The Mug wasn't to be distracted by silly things like embarrassment and modesty so taking off her clothes in broad daylight where anyone could see her didn't bother her in the least. However, the fact that Benton was still dressed made her pause to think about it. The drug dealer had seen her body, it wasn't as if it would be new to him, but she had a hunch that he'd be awkward if she stripped now.

Undergarments seemed a safe bet so the young woman deftly unbuttoned her blouse, tugging it off to reveal the chemise that lay beneath. She set the blouse down some distance from the water, placing it on a drier patch of sand and threw her skirt down to join it once she'd carefully navigated her wet and sandy feet out of it. She blew out a breath, pleased with the relief that the loss of the outer layers brought. She undid a few of the buttons on the chemise's front, allowing the breeze greater access to her skin and caring little about the fact that she was almost ready to spill out of it. Suitably undressed, she pursued him into the water, reaching out to snatch the bottle from him, a cheeky grin on her lips.

Aziza was well aware that as things currently stood, she could venture further into the water than him. Her drawers were above the knee and what was more, she didn't actually care if she got her undergarments wet. If she allowed the creamy material to get wet, particularly the chemise, it'd likely be very distracting to her current companion when it became pretty much transparent. At present, it might already be distracting; dark skin showed well through light-coloured cloth.

"What was that afore 'bout needing to wear all those mung clothes, eh?" she asked, taking a swig from the bottle, a wicked gleam in her dark eyes. "Did ye remember how to have fun? Did I ne tell ye that ye're better off not being stiff all the time, Eon?" she added with a wink, treading careful backwards steps away from him, her face holding a challenge as a wave kissed the bottom of her drawers. She stepped back further, shuddering a little as the cool water climbed higher up her thigh, tickling more sensitive skin.

The witch cocked her head to the side, drinking in the pleasure on his face, an answering emotion swelling in her. "Ye look happy; I'm glad. Ye could still loosen up some though, ye chen?" she threw out, holding out the bottle, ready to move it back and out of his grasp if he reached for it, a wicked grin splitting her features. "Did ye want more of this? Ye'll have to c'mere 'cos I do ne think I can reach ye." She laughed, giving a slight hiccup, enjoying this situation, the mix of hot and cold on her skin, the new warmth in her blood from the alcohol. It was all delicious.
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Benton Borteillo
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: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
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Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:29 am

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Yaris 8, 2715....
"Iknow how to have fun!" he defensively proclaimed loudly and quickly in feigned exasperation, rolling his grey eyes to add to his drama as she snatched the bottle away from him. His mask of annoyance gave way to a warm grin within seconds. He would like to believe that he did know how to have fun, after all, but he simply had a life full of moments where fun wasn't appropriate. He didn't much think that his customers would appreciate him wasting their time to have fun; he would probably get his legs broken if he did so. He knew that he did plenty of fun things in his daily life. For one, he... well, he did them, he was sure he did something fun, regardless of whether or not he could remember a single instance of common entertainment and excitement that would prove him not guilty in the face of the Court of Fun. Aziza called him stiff, too, but their first meeting had ended with him being everything except stiff- well, he had at least not been stiff how she meant it.

"Loosen up," he muttered under his breath. Loosen up. Of all the things he did for the satisfaction and amusement of his needy clients... He fumbled to unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt, allowing his chest and its hair to peek through beneath. His pale chest had not seen sunlight in literal years. "Look, I'm loosening up!" he called with a mild franticness, stretching his arms out to present himself to her. He eyed her lacking garments with a raised brow. She certainly wasn't body-shy like him. He most definitely would not be loosening up that much, however. He had to draw the line somewhere and stripping to his undergarments was far past that line. No, he was fine as is. She had seen his body before; she could recall the memories if she so desired. He was showing enough skin, feeling enough of the water with his legs hiked like a child's knickers to his knees, his sleeves rolled to his elbows like a sailor, and his shirt unbuttoned in the wind like some drunken hooligan of a local hero. He had to admit that the simple act of "loosening up" made him feel much younger than he had for quite a time.

He smiled at her as she teased him with the bottle, running his tongue over his teeth subliminally. He was sure she wouldn't simply let him have it, but he'd play her game, all the same. If it'd show her that he knew how to have fun, then so be it. He lunged towards her, mischief fading into his pale skin.

To his horror, Benton's feet had sunk deeper into the sand than he had thought, barely moving as his torso continued its pursuit of the coveted bottle. In an instant, he was falling rapidly towards the shallow water. His feet broke free just as his body became parallel with the water, and, with a splash, he was fully submerged. He rolled over in the water and came to sit on his bottom, his drenched head, chest, and knees sticking out above the waves. He pouted slightly as he looked up at Aziza. This had certainly not been his intention.

"The water's nice," he called up to her, embarrassment tangled in his speech. There was nothing he could have done, of course, and he understood that. He also wasn't entirely as embarrassed in Aziza's presence as he would be in the presence of another. He laughed slightly at himself and struggled to regain his footing as he stood on the sand, now much closer to Aziza. The white shirt clung and dark slacks clung to his body heavily, and his hair and stubble dripped onto his shoulders. He shook the water from his hands and flicked it at her.

"I think I deserve a drink for that show," he sighed, his face flushed behind his small smile. He held out a wet hand for the bottle. "Or perhaps you need to go for a swim, too?"

In hell I'll be in good company.
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Aziza
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Wed Aug 08, 2018 5:53 pm

Yaris 8, 2715
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His declaration earned him snorting laughter from the witch, a knowing look on her face that showed just how much she believed that. Aziza eyed him critically, wondering if he believed it himself or was trying to convince himself it was true. She could sympathise with a lie to self, especially if the truth meant that you had to come to terms with the fact you were a dry shite. She watched him, the mischievous twinkle remaining in her eye, silently spurring him to do something to prove her wrong. She could almost see wheels turning in his head, the drug dealer seeming to consider his actions carefully.

The spoke watched him unbutton his shirt, his pronouncement and over-the-top gesture making her laugh heartily, the display beyond hilarious to her. Not only did it have a slightly ridiculous look to it but it was also so far off what she'd meant by 'loosen up' that she had to giggle. For a man who was so worldly, there was something incredibly sweet and almost innocent about his actions. At least she could say that she was having fun at his expense but she did want him to share in the amusement.

When she dangled the bottle before him, she hoped that he'd take the bait, loosen up for real but she hadn't expected him to take a tumble. If she'd thought he cut a humorous sight before... The girl laughed so hard that she almost lost the bottle and her own footing. Partially bent over as she laughed herself stupid, she ended up with joyful tears streaming down her face and aching sides.

"Nice, is it? Did ye decide to check on my account?" she teased, resting her free hand on her hip, waggling her eyebrows as she smirked. She would have offered him a hand up but she didn't trust him not to tug her in on top of him. Aziza didn't care if she got soaked herself; she was more worried about losing the bottle. Besides, he was a big boy, he could pick himself up on his own. Instead, she took the time to move, taking another careful step back so that she was a little deeper in the water, minding her step. Sand moved around her, submerging her feet but she didn't mind, wiggling her toes to let it slide between them.

"It was a benny show. Maybe ye know how to have fun after all," the girl purred, moving closer to him, pressing the bottle between them as she closed the gap, reaching her free hand up to trail dark fingers along the side of his neck. He was welcome to take the spirits from her this time, the young woman less inclined to play with him now. In fact, she'd push the bottle into his hands, no show of resistance at all as she leaned in to peck him on the cheek again for the second time today.

"Do ye think I will ne go for a swim? Sure, I'd be naked and swimming laps 'round the harbour if I dint think ye'd be uncomfortable. Some jents get a bit queer about that kinda thing, ye chen?" she pointed out, sticking her tongue out as she moved further back. "I ent shy and if I get wet, everythin'll be on show, won't it?"

The bottle was safe and so she had no qualms with turning away from him, stepping deeper into the water, pushing off from the bottom so she was left treading the waves, feeling the shifting currents around her. The girl was more used to river water than sea water but she was a fair swimmer; swimming was often the only relief you could get in the Mugrobi heat.

"Oes, fair nice," she remarked, swimming a few strokes in the water before she simply allowed herself to float on her back. The material clung to her full form, the cream colour basically transparent now in its drenched state, he neckline stuck low on her chest as it was. Any onlooker would find that there was little left to the imagination, only her drawers preserving some of the modesty that she didn't really have.

"Ye should take a real swim. Ye can put that bottle ashore first though, ye hear? The sea do ne need to drink anything. Dint waste my drink now. C'mere, partner. Prove ye do know how to have fun. And not by accident neither," she teased, closing her eyes as she turned her gaze away from him and too the heavens, protecting herself from the sun's glare.
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Benton Borteillo
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Joined: Mon Jul 09, 2018 11:15 pm
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Occupation: Mr. Drug Dealer Drug Man- retiring.
: aka EON, Roswell Godfrey
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Fri Aug 10, 2018 2:28 pm

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Yaris 8, 2715....
Benton's hand rose to gently lay upon and acknowledge her fingers as they brushed against his neck.A friendly thing she was, unafraid to show affection as she kiss his wet cheek again and pushed the bottle into his hand. He leaned down to rinse a sandy hand in the water as he drank from the bottle.

"Feel free to leave your clothes on," he answered with a bit of shock in his voice. The fact that someone could so openly go nude was unfathomable to him; they were outside in the dwindling daylight, after all. Nudeness was a thing meant for intimacy in his mind, and he'd be much more comfortable leaving it that way, even if it didn't make him fun. Whereas she wasn't shy, as she proclaimed, he certainly was.

Already soaked, there was no harm in swimming now. Without his tumble, he would not have capitulated, but, now... well, what worse could he do? He waded back to the shifting shoreline and back to his dry coat and shoes folded neatly on the sidelines. He pushed the bottle into the sand, allowing the wet sand to settle around it like a secure nest after taking a final, long drink, then moved his attention to his clothing. He pulled the bottom of the bottom his shirt up from where it was tucked into his pants. The complexion of his skin nearly blended into the translucent material, though it clung to the little bit of muscle he had. He unbuttoned the shirt the rest of the way, pulled it from where it stuck to his skin, and took the time to lay it out to dry. He cringed as he let the wet fabric touch the sand, knowing that he'd never get all of that sand off no matter how hard he tried. He repeated the motion with his pants until he was left in the knee-length, white canvas drawers belted high around his waist. They, too, were uncomfortable soaked, but he could not, would not leave them out to dry. It was simply not happening. He felt uncomfortable enough publicly without a shirt- the man was rarely shirtless even in his own home. Now, all he had was a thin piece of wet fabric around his legs. It was fine, just fine.

He turned back towards the water to see Aziza floating on her back, eyes closed. She was right; her clothing did show everything when wet.

Not that you haven't seen it before, he thought smugly. He hurried his descent into the water quickly as a slight breeze chilled his wet clothing. He sank low quickly, and he was happy to allow the water to wrap around his bare body and hide him. There was no one around to see, but, well, he'd much rather be concealed. He half swam, half waded slowly towards Aziza's floating form.

He smirked as he stood beside her, then dove as ungracefully as possible to conveniently splash her as he went below the surface of the water. Although he could move steadily and typically refrain from drowning, Benton had never been much of a swimmer. His head reemerged only a body's length away, though deep enough now that he had to tread the water. He paddled back to a point where his feet could sink into the sand. He, too, leaned back and let the surface of the water catch him and float him around its surface.

"I haven't gone into the water and swam since I was a child. My brother and I would swim in a thin river that ran by our little house in Bastia," he mentioned as the water pushed him around on its undulating surface like a ball being kicked down the street by children. It wasn't a slip of the tongue to share some glimpse of personal information; he was careful enough to give her information either already known or unimportant, but, no, he wouldn't say anymore. He smiled up at the pale blue sky above them, nostalgia sinking into his eyes and grin. Like rain into a desert's soil.
In hell I'll be in good company.
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