Log:The Spy Who Loved Me
Something to show you. Let's go somewhere...special. Important. Mysterious. No hints given. Trust me.
Who wouldn't trust someone like Bravo? After leaving the other group she leads the way towards the doors that open up to anywhere that anyone can think of. One hand is lifted up, a finger to her lips before she turns to put her hand on the door. There is a moment where she takes a very open and obvious moment to solidify what she wants in her mind before she opens that door, pushing it inwards to let it open.
Inside is the glittery, glitzy world of the casino in Monte Carlo. Circa 1960s. Full on Hollywood version, though. The real place Roxie never got to go to, and only had two frames of reference. The first no one wants to go to, so she plucks all her ideas from a book, and the story that Roxie's grandfather told her, and then washes it down with the movie versions of it.
The fact it works causes a bright smile to wash over Bravo's face, then she steps inside, waiting for Bon-Vivant to follow after her, "We'll find you something to wear that is a little more in synch with things."
Maybe the Bon-Vivant ought to be wary. He isn't, though. Apparently he does trust the Bravo, rightly or wrongly, and in any case, he's generally excited by new adventures. And just finding out what awaits is a tiny little adventure in and of itself. He's quiet while she takes that moment to concentrate on just what she wants to find, watching her as though it might let him suss out what she's thinking. It doesn't, of course. For that, he has to wait until she opens the door.
It makes him blink, when she does, and then break into a brilliant grin. "Oh, /hey/," he says, following her in and looking around more, "I know where this is..." He is indeed entirely unsuited to the venue, sartorially, but no one immediately seems to notice. Even so, he nods firmly to her remark. "Definitely. I need... a really well-tailored tux, or something. Black or white, either'd do..." Another glance around, though this one's for a potential source. "Think there's somewhere here we can pick one up, or do we have to find a guy my size and mug him?"
"We can mug some guy if you want, but I bet there is some sort of shop inside." Bravo decides after a moment, pushing the door closed when he follows her inside. She doesn't linger, instead she tucks her arm through his to start pulling him further away from where they stepped in. "Let's go find some place for you to get yourself a tux, and then we can go lose it all on black."
The casino caters to everyone. Everything you need. So it doesn't take long before a little boutique style shop is found down one of the hallways, and she heads in that direction, quiet up until the destination is spotted. "So to answer your question, I heard you and Danny talking about me. And the invitation to here."
"I dunno, I think I'm more down with the shop idea. First off I don't really wanna beat up some random innocent dude. And second, it'd probably fit me better, and if I'm gonna be somewhere like this I want to look properly sharp." Fizz grins again, and adjusts his arm for easier tucking before escorting her in the general direction she pulls. It's a cooperative sort of escort -- he's not terribly difficult to redirect if she decides she wants to go this way now instead of that -- though once the destination comes into view, the trajectory's more definite.
He's willing to let the sounds of the casino and its other occupants be their soundtrack as they walk, and her answer breaking their silence is almost a surprise. It makes him laugh, a quick and faintly embarrassed little thing. "Scott still planned to go someday," he admits, "He didn't know when, but he felt like he ought to."
"That was very sweet of Scott." Bravo points out, a smile curling the corners of her mouth upwards, "Actually, Scott was very sweet in general...Although Roxie barely knew him." The smile itself fades away at that thought, brows furrowing just a fraction as she moves closer towards the shop, a hand reaching out towards the door to pull it open.
"Truth be told, Roxie didn't seem to know really anyone very well. She thought she did, she thought that she knew and could trust Hawkins, and Joshua." There is a faint smile before she shakes her head, "She didn't know anyone." The idea is dismissed fairly quickly in favor of gesturing him in towards the shop, "Let's find you the perfect suit."
"He wanted to know Roxie better," the Bon-Vivant says a bit thoughtfully, and rather less so, with a sudden flash of the grin, "He liked smart girls." There's a little more consideration again, then, as he allows himself to be gestured in -- no chivalry issues, apparently. "I'm not sure a lot of people really knew Scott all that well," he says after a moment, "I think most of them were satisfied with what they saw at a glance." He doesn't sounds quite as though he necessarily thinks there's something wrong with that, but more like he may still be working through some of this whole human interaction thing. It feels more natural than it was before, now that he has Scott in his head, but looking at things from the outside is still odd.
"Anyway," he says, looking around, and breaking into a smaller smile as he looks at the things available, "yeah, let's find me that suit. Got any preferences?" He's already mentioned his initial thoughts, after all, and does wander toward some tuxes, pausing to eye one with a dark red velvet jacket which doesn't fit either of his initial suggestions. But it looks really nice to touch, so he does.
"Roxie. Roxie. Roxie." Bravo follows him towards the tuxes, pulling her cigarette holder out, and another cigarette that gets tucked into it. However, perhaps out of respect for where they are she doesn't dig out the lighter that Rogue lent her, instead it's simply something to do with her hands. A prop. An affectation that she feels the need to play out. "She was very smart, and she knew that she was smart. But she had the common sense of a rock, and was incapable of the simplest social interactions."
When he stops to feel the red jacket she pauses next to him, watching him, and it before she shakes her head, "Whatever looks the best, that is my preference." She tucks the mouth of the holder between her teeth, chewing on it a moment in thought before she reaches for one of the black jackets, letting it hang from a finger, "We can start with the classic." It's a simple choice, really, and it allows her to mull over what she remembers from Roxie's interactions with Scott. "She didn't look very deep, not at first. He was pretty to look at, and young...and...." She shakes her head, "That's really about it, at first. It wasn't until she actually talked to him that she even started looking. But there wasn't much time to look too deep...too much going on."
"Everyone looks good in classics," Fizz says, "...well, nearly everyone, anyway. Probably why they're classic." He reaches over to accept the one she's selected, checking out the size; a moment of consideration and he selects a couple others, in the same classic design. Trousers, shirts; only one cummerbund and tie. "Nothing wrong with knowing you're smart. I think Scott was a little brighter than he thought he was, but--" He breaks off, with a small, sudden laugh. "--well, I guess he was kinda like me, really, only so much abstract stuff before we need to go actually /do/ something. Danny was better at that stuff. Scott was better at getting things done."
He pauses by the changing room, turning to look at her. "Seemed to me Roxie did okay with some of those social interactions. It was a weird situation, though. Trying to get to know people while things are trying to kill you. Like it made things kind of intense, but things still take a certain amount of time..." His free hand rests on the door to the cubicle a moment. "Do you think it's always like that? In the encounters?"
"I think he probably was...the discussion about the Freak? He was more..." Bravo trails after him to the changing room, finding herself a place to lean against it, one arm crossing over her stomach as she thinks about it, "No. Action was good, you can only talk for so long before you fall into a rut of doing nothing but talking. We didn't have time to just, not act. Only so much time for planning, then you have to move."
She taps a finger absently at the cigarette holder, like she was ashing it despite it not being lit. "She faked it well, she didn't have a perfect childhood...but, it was a weird situation. Getting to know people while people are dying and being attacked by ghosts." She shakes her head, though, her attention shifting out towards the rest of the shop, "No, the one before...Joshua...and Emily, they were married in it. They'd all known each other their entire lives I think, and there wasn't any of this getting to know you business. I'd rather have had that." She decides, glancing back at him, "Knowing people like that."
The Bon-Vivant tilts his head, giving that some thought. "Did they start out married? I mean, if they look back to where the memories start feeling real, were they already? 'cause I wonder how that would feel, once you were back in the Fac." He heads into the little booth, and there are rustling noises -- the sounds of things being hung up, of things being removed and moved around. The pyjama pants get draped over the top of the door while he tries things on.
"I do think already knowing people was easier in some ways. Like, the people Scott already knew from school, some of that was easier, even if he didn't know all of them real well. Maybe knowing more of them better to start with /would've/ made things simpler." Some more rustling, and a soft unintelligible mutter before it's followed by more. It stops briefly, though, and he moves closer to the door, pushing up on his toes to peek over it at her. Probably grinning, from the way his eyes crinkle. "I like the cigarette holder, by the way," he remarks, before moving away again and apparently returning to trying things on.
"No, I think they got married in the story...I know one of the stories they were siblings." Bravo adds, glancing up towards him when he peeks over the door at her, offering him an easy smile in return, "It feels fitting to the location." This is undoubtably about the cigarette holder, and not the sibling/married thing.
That requires more thought, then adding, "Laine? You remember her...in the western thing, I think her and C were related, too. Not sure if that is something that happens frequently or not. But he seems fairly attached to her still, was very concerned about her, when you were all working towards saving the world." This time she straightens up, trying to stretch up far enough to peer over the door, "I had history with Hawkins...he caught Roxie breaking into places. Made a deal with her to not arrest her if she'd help him with robbing a bank." Even now it's harder to share that part of things than it really should be. There aren't any real cops about to come arrest them, afterall.
Is it better or worse that it makes the Bon-Vivant laugh? "You got to rob a bank?" he asks, "That's awesome. Why did he want her to do that? Was she just really good at breaking into places? Why /was/ she breaking into places?"
Sadly, even stretching in those heels the Bravo is not quite tall enough to get much of a look over the door, though she can see just the top of his head, and when he raises his arms high enough. She'd have better luck trying to peer through the little gap where the door hangs on its hinges.
"...it's kind of weird enough watching everyone trying to sort out how they feel about whoever they were sleeping with in the Encounter without bringing being related in some other Encounter into it." A small pause, in which there's the sound of a zipper. "Scott didn't trust that Joshua dude at all. 'cause Laine kinda had crap taste in dudes and 'followed you here from a strip club' seemed like a creeper move to him."
It is a very good look at the top of his head. Sort of. But she drops herself back down and resumes her lean, tilting her head to rest of against the frame of the door. "She did security things..like systems? Card readers, and things, stuff that kept people out of stuff, but in turn....she could by pass systems." She gives up on trying to peer through the door at him, doesn't even try for looking through the crack of where door meets frame.
"I thought it was stupid. Joshua...Christian, by the way. That was his real name. Roxie thought chasing a stripper was stupid, she was mad at him about it." She shakes her head, missing the slip of I instead of Roxie. "They slept together. Roxie and him, before all of you arrived. I don't feel particularly weird about it now." There is a thoughtful pause before she leans her head against the door, her voice lowering some, "Do you feel particularly weird about Roxie and Scott?"
The top of the Bon-Vivant's head is way hot. Totes. He makes a sound like the security systems thing makes sense, though it doesn't answer the, "So why was she doing it? Just fun?" Perhaps not terribly surprisingly, he doesn't sound like he thinks that would be an unreasonable answer.
"...Laine and Scott never slept together, though I'm pretty sure Troy thought they did. Shit, I'm almost surprised he was wrong," he says somewhat absently, while there's only a small, soft sound of fabric here and there. The door opens, then, and he leans up against the jamb, all dressed except that the tie is untied, just dangling for now. And he's still barefoot. The assemblage he's ended up with fits quite well, though if they have a tailor on staff they could probably make a few quick adjustments to make it closer to perfect. "No," he answers, considering her as he adjusts the studs in the cuffs. "Should I? Do you?"
"Why?" Bravo wonders, the question having been by-passed the first time, but he pushes the question and it actually requires her to think about it. Why was Roxie breaking into things? Why was she doing it? She's still thinking about the question as he goes on about Laine, and then Troy.
It's not until the door opens that she moves, shifting away from it, returning to the casual lean like she wasn't just standing there with her nose against the door like a child. "Roxie didn't like Laine. Or Emily...or most of the girls. She felt..." She pauses, searching for the word, and looking mildly disgusted when she finds it. "She felt both superior to them and threatened by them. Like they were stupid, and childish, and then...she was envious that they were as close as they were, and popular. She was selfish, Roxie." She shakes her head, dismissing the memory of Roxie and her feelings towards other people.
Instead she tucks the mouthpiece between her teeth, moving towards him to reach for the tie, "No. I don't feel particularly weird about it. Roxie did, at first...she got really hung up on the age thing."
The Bon-Vivant lifts his chin slightly as though making room for tie-tying to be done, welcoming the attempt. Can he tie a bow tie himself? Who knows. Possibly not even him, yet. The mention of the age thing makes him laugh again. "Scott didn't. Shocking, I'm sure. But he figured she was within the Guidelines." One can just about hear the capital letter. "He was pretty sure he was older than half her age plus seven, even if he never actually asked how old she was. But in all honest, I'm pretty sure if he'd found out she was older than he guess, he wouldn't really have cared that much. She was hot." He gives her a half-smile, one brow arched teasingly. After all, she doesn't look all that different than Roxie did, really.
"I kinda wonder if anyone /else/ is gonna feel weird about it," he admits, "and I guess I might feel weird about things then. But otherwise?" A small shrug. "I've mostly got Scott to go on for whether I ought to feel weird about shit or not, you know? And he didn't." He's quiet a moment before saying, "It sounds like she was kind of insecure, that thing with the girls." It's not particularly judgemental, the way he says it. "How come the age thing bugged her so much, anyway? Could you tell?"
"Half her age...plus...seven." There is a bit of mental math that happens there, "He was older than nineteen and a half?" She knows how to tie a bow tie. Does she know how to do it well? Yes. Somehow she knows the very ticky, twisty little way of making it all turn out properly. Her fingers smooth it out, giving it a very final tweak before she reaches up to tug the cigarette holder from her mouth, "She was twenty-five, though, and she was hot. She knew how to dress, too. Not that anyone saw it after the night in the rain...but she over-compensated for things by knowing how to dress well. She thought so, at least."
Instead of standing in his personal space for long she steps back, getting a good look at him and how the tux fits before she reaches for his hand to start pulling him away from the dressing room. "She was very insecure...it's fuzzy, but she was picked on growing up. Bullied." She's quiet for just a moment. "Beaten up. Not just called names, either. So she was insecure. But the age thing? I think part of it was that she tried so very hard to act older, to be...mature? Prove something." She moves towards the shoes and socks, so that they can complete his outfit of choice. "Overcompensation again, I think. Which feels weird...maybe because...I don't feel like that? Even before when I couldn't remember anything I just felt...comfortable? Maybe I'm misremembering now, and I didn't."
"He was twenty," Fizz confirms, "And a half, I guess? ...yeah." Math of his own. Fingers move up to touch the tie, feeling the way it lies properly, and he smiles. "Thanks." Easy enough to take his hand and lead him where she wants; he looks quite enthusiastic about getting suitable footwear for it, really. And he does go for nice things, both in appearance and touch. "I remember he liked her style, before things went to hell," he says, as if pulling up the memory, "It wasn't something he was focusing on particularly hard, but he noticed. So she must have been doing it pretty much right, right?"
He sits on a provided chair, pulling on the chosen socks, and tries the first pair of shoes over them. "I think," he says slowly, "you seemed fairly comfortable when I saw you before the encounter. But that might or might not mean anything, and I didn't see you that much, even though I was hoping to. I wanted to talk more with someone else who understood what it was like being us." Being a 'blank slate'. "I don't think it's that weird, though. I dunno how different from us they can be, but... I mean, we don't have pasts, right? At least not ones we know about. So /you/ weren't bullied growing up. Maybe that gives you less to prove. Maybe she'd've been more like you, without that."
"So barely half her age plus seven." Not that she seems to know what that means in general, beyond the actual amount it'd have been. Why it matters. When he goes on to find himself shoes and socks she resumes her lean, considering it. "Must have... I don't miss the hair." She decides after a little while, a hand lifting to smooth her hair back despite it already being slicked back. "It was big, and fluffy...I didn't like the way it looked, but it was how all the hair was it seemed."
It's an odd thing to get distracted by, really. But it only lasts a moment before she nods, "I wish I'd gotten more of a chance to talk to you before, too. But maybe we'd have run out of things to talk about? I found myself hungry for experiences. What everyone else thought, did, how they coped...what it was like. But I wanted mine, too." She shakes her head a fraction, one corner of her mouth twisting upwards, "It's strange, what experiences I'm sad I remember from the story and didn't get to experience here first."
The cigarette holder is held up, "And the sudden addiction to these that I didn't have before."
"I kinda liked the hair," Fizz admits, but then, if she caught a glimpse of him here and there before the Lodge, he /did/ seem to get a certain influence from the MTV in his general style. "...and yeah, barely, but he'd say still counts. ...and when he was actually slightly too young by that rule he said what the fuck, he was an adult anyway, so, I mean..." He trails off, and there's a smaller grin with that, almost affectionate for his alter ego.
He stands, testing out the shoes; maybe he's paid attention to what size Scott's were, or the ones in his closet are marked, because he seems to have chosen acceptably. "We might've. But I was doing the same thing, more or less. Trying to figure out what the others thought and did and felt, what they were experiencing and what we were in for. And trying to figure out who I was." He steps a bit away, to where there's one of those three-way mirrors, and takes a look at the overall effect, turning slightly to get a good look at the back as well. "I'm glad I found a name I felt okay with before I was there. I like Scott, and I even like the /name/ Scott, and we're... I don't think we're so different as some people. But I'm not actually him, or maybe not only? And definitely won't /be/ only. I needed that."
He nods to the reflection, then turns and looks to her again, with a small spread of the hands that suggests soliciting her opinion. How's he look? "Which experiences do you wish you'd had here first?" There's something in the way he asks that suggests he understands the general desire, at the least.
"Love." Bravo replies after a moment, lifting her hands up to give him a silent applause for the look, "Very nice. You wear it very, very well." She moves away from the wall, finally fishing the lighter from her pocket, absently tapping it against her hand as she moves to circle around him, "Sex." Evidently there is more to her list of things she wishes that she'd been able to experience here first.
By the time she's circled back around to stand in front of him she's got the cigarette lit finally, and the lighter dropped safely back into a pocket. "Because of Roxie....and her past with Raul, the idea of love is tangled up with hate, anger...dispair. I read about love before our experiences at the Lodge, how pure and selfless it was. But that's not the story I got to live, and I resent that I think. Maybe one day I'll experience that, but then it won't be my first."
There is the absentminded shift of her shoulders, a smile flicking across her face, "But, then again, maybe there isn't such a thing as that, and I should be happy that I don't have some of the conflicting experiences and emotions others do. You and I, we're lucky I think. We've a sense of self from before all these memories. Even if that sense of self is...unformed, still."
The Bon-Vivant gives her a grin for the applause, and sweeps a rather dramatic bow. The grin fades a bit with the rest, though, and he nods, thoughtful again as he offers her an arm. Do they need to pay for things? Guess they'll find out if someone stops them. "I... don't think I've experienced love yet, not properly. Romantic love, anyway. Scott might've, in that last year, but... it's hard to be sure, the way things from then feel. Or, I guess, don't feel. But I think the odds are I'll experience it in an encounter first..." There's a touch of something that might be regret in that thought.
"Think I might be with you on sex, too. I mean, I wouldn't've really known what I was doing, but there's kinda... I don't know. I didn't know what I was doing with the first kiss, either. And I'm glad I got to have that as me." A shrug, and a contemplative moment that he shakes off before, "It was annoying, before, when some of them would talk about how much easier we had it, being what we were. I'm not so sure we did, then. I don't think the ones who said that thought about what it would be like being all... adrift like that. But yeah, I think maybe it does make us luckier /now/, having at least some stuff that feels... just ours."
"Emily. She let me kiss her before, we had fun. I don't know about now...maybe now we're okay still, she didn't seem against the kiss before coming in here." Bravo seems to dwell on the thought for a moment, "But I wanted her and C to fix themselves, since they had problems...but now I /understand/ that was because of their last encounter. Their last story. Where they were married. I see it in him now, when he was hung up on Laine again." She shakes her head a bit, "I don't think they let go, or...can? Now as well." She takes the offered arm, fingers giving it a light, almost reassuring squeeze, "Maybe that's what makes us lucky. We aren't as attached to our stories as they are?"
It doesn't appear they have to pay, because no one stops them on the way out, and the steps are meandering as she starts to move down another hallway, towards the majority of the laughter and noise. Presumably the gaming tables are there, after all. "I wouldn't have known what I was doing, either. But it'd have been /mine/ anyways, fumbles and all...Now?" She shakes her head, "I remember it as Roxie now, and I'm not..." She glances at him, considering it a moment before she points out firmly, "I don't regret it. What happened. But it's still like it happened to someone else and I witnessed everything, but it doesn't feel part of me at the same time. Like." She laughs, landing on a thought, "Like being really, really high and knowing you're doing it, but it still feels somehow distant."
"Maybe it's easier for us to think of this as us," Fizz muses, "Having that chance to not be anyone else, and knowing what we're going to face. I mean, in general, that we're gonna wake up someone else and then wake up again having been them. I mean... it's not like I don't have any feelings for the people Scott cared about. I feel different about people now, because of it. So maybe it's more that this is only my first time, and I don't have... conflicts, like waking up to find out I slept with my former sister a lot." A small pause. "Or brother. Or maybe it really is different for us. I guess we'll find out."
He's drawn right toward those sounds of people enjoying themselves, quiet excitement rising as they get nearer the activity. "I kissed Boet," he says, a little quieter as their surroundings get gradually more crowded, "Caleb." In case she needed clarification there. "...yeah, we had fun. He understood about-- wanting things that were ours. Like, actually ours. I think," and it sounds as though he might be putting some things together more clearly in hindsight, "he was kind of afraid of taking advantage of me, though. With all the things I didn't really know." He considers, then offers, "When we do sleep with people here, though? It'll still be ours. Different than it would've been, I guess, but it'll still be... ours."
They can see the people, now, in their finery among the gaming tables, and he grins suddenly. "Somewhere here, there's gotta be an enemy spy or something. That we need to take down and save the country. Whichever country."
"It certainly seems easier...outside, looking in...." Bravo replies as she mulls it over, lets the different memories roll around in her head, both her, here. And then her, Roxie.
"I like him. Boet?" She states the name like it's some foreign thing, though. "Lyle....Caleb. Whatever he wants to come, he was one of the first I really remember, and he was welcoming. I remember that. Emily was, too. She flirted with me, but I think it was by accident at first, when she was showing me their space ship, that life of hers liked girls only."
There is almost a fond smile for the memory, then a laugh, "Advantage. Yes. I can see how he might have felt that way, I can see it. We didn't know, right? One way or another, we didn't know." She then shakes her head a bit, "I knew, though. From things I read, which I get now isn't really the same thing. But it wasn't like..." She waves the cigarette in the air, "I didn't know anything."
But deep thoughts have times and places, and she sets them aside for the time being to turn her attention towards this idea of a spy. She slants a look at him, her mouth curling upwards, "I don't suppose you can do a British accent? I bet we could find some Russian floating around and take them out, safe the country."
Well, technically, it IS some foreign thing, right? "I partly didn't like calling him by past-life names," Fizz explains, "...and partly, I mean, he's got a name for me. Boet's like... brother, in the friend sense, he says. And he's the only one who says it, so it seemed like a good one." A grin, "I mean, it's better then Beignet." The grin softens a little, and he says, "He's a good guy. Emily... Kylie? was welcoming too. She's the one who told me about the name book thing. But, exactly... we didn't know. Even if we knew facts about things, we didn't /know/." Scott's earlier memories may be distant, detached things, but the Bon-Vivant can still see how much more understanding of some things that life had, even as basically a kid, than this one had before the encounter.
Still... yes. Deep thoughts have times and places, and they don't need to be the current ones. He reaches over to steal the cigarette holder, and takes a slow drag, exhaling the smoke into the air before replying, "We should have a drink. A martini; shaken, not stirred." It's not a /particularly/ good Sean Connery, but it could be worse! The effect is slightly marred by the return of the grin along with the return of her cigarette, but he keeps the accent up half-passably, "Shall we? That blighter could be anywhere."
"Better than a food name, yes." Bravo can agree to that, for why she knows what that is? Who knows. One of those many mysterious things known but not known. She easily releases the cigarette holder to him before she smiles, "So many different things like that, yes."
To the bar! She spots one, and begins to steer them in that direction as she takes the cigarette back, tucking it into her mouth for her own drag, her eyes scanning the room, "Maybe it is him." She points towards a particularly seedy looking character, with a shiny bald head.
"They /are/ delicious, though," the Bon-Vivant murmurs, forgetting to do the accent, but he's remembered again when she points out the bald guy, even if it remains a murmur: "Could be. We'll have to get a closer look, maybe engage him in conversation." And with that in mind, he strolls that way, keeping her arm in his and leading her to the spot at the bar beside their potential target.
He sidles in and catches the bartender's eye, ordering -- of course -- that martini, and adding a, "And for the lady..." with a glance to the Bravo. She gets to pick for herself, apparently! Meanwhile, he takes a better look at the bald man, and the scotch he's nursing sullenly. "Bad run at the tables?" Fizz inquires, accent and all.
"I'll have the same." It doesn't seem to matter that she can't recall ever having had one of those before, this is what she's getting. It's happening now. She turns her attention towards the bald man in question, smiling at him. There is a distinct lack of a fancy dress at the moment, but that doesn't cause her to stop and refrain from doing her very best to look like she's nothing more than arm-candy.
The man in question looks up from his drink, making a sullen sound at the pair of them. Something that could be a yes. In fact, he looks like it has been both a bad run at the tables, and a very long night drinking. Judging by the blood shot eyes, nad the glazed look on his face, "Whaddu care?"
The Bon-Vivant may not have known many things when he first appeared in the Fac, but for some reason, a whole hell of a lot of alcoholic drinks was part of what he knew. And Pop Rocks. No one needs to know about Pop Rocks. So even without the Scott influence -- which includes the knowledge of a remarkable number of ways to stop being entirely sober -- this is a realm in which he can claim a certain level of confidence. The drink part, at least. The rest he can fake.
"Just sympathy for my fellow man," he replies, with his best charm and (still) best accent, one of which is at least slightly better than the other. Whether that's saying much, though... It may or may not help that he lifts fingers slightly to catch the bartender's attention once more, and gestures to the bald man's drink, "Another for my fellow man, if you would." He of course uses the arm not currently occupied by his lovely candy-impersonator.
The man brightens up a little at the idea that there is going to be another drink in it for him, and he gets up from the stool he is sitting on so that he can move closer to the pair. By all of one stool. It isn't nearly that impressive of a shift, honestly. "Thank you, friend." The words are still slurred, but he's doing a good job of trying to look more focused on the situation. "You here fer ah game, too?"
Bravo seems to be very amused, either by the charm or the accent, or the entire situation at hand. She starts to release her hold on Bon-Vivant's arm, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek before she moves to slide an arm around the man's shoulders, winking at B-V as her other hand starts to move towards the man's pockets in search of something. The film or key, or whatever they need to continue on their adventure to save Queen and Country.
The Bon-Vivant grins at the kiss like there ought to be a cinematic glint off his teeth, and endeavours to look as though their new friend is most welcome to join them, slurring and all. And also, to help distract him from the Bravo's pickpocketing. "Aren't we all?" he asks, leaning companionably against the bar, "What's yours?"
The man's accent doesn't seem the slightest bit Russian, which is a bit of a disappointment, but really, wouldn't a /good/ Russian spy sound like somewhere else? Of course he would. He looks briefly startled by the Bravo's arm around him, flicking a glance to Fizz, but since he doesn't appear about to get decked, settles into looking more pleased. His evening's looking up a little. Free drinks and pretty women! Luckily he's drunk enough already not to /immediately/ start questioning this change in his fortunes. And hey... they change all the time in casinos, right?
They change all the time at the casinos. That's part of the point of them, really. A change in fortune. Bravo flashes a smile at the man that is empty, vapid. The smile for B-V is far more real, warmer, as he goes along with the entire thing.
She leans in against the bald man, making sure that there is a lot to be distracted by as she reaches a hand into first one pocket, then the other. It's first a handful of poker chips, and she tucks then into her pocket, then out comes his room key.
Oh, he's distracted, all right. He almost forgets to answer the Bon-Vivant's question at first, though okay, some of that's because he's drunk. But mostly it's because he's drunk and thinking about the way the Bravo's leaning against him. He blinks at the expectant look Secret Agent Fizz gives him, having to think a beat before, "Oh! Poker. Tournament tonight..." He trails off, glancing at his near-empty glass as the memory of losing ignominiously seems to wash over him again. It's just good timing that the bartender picks right then to set the far less empty new drink in front of him, and the martinis in front of BV.
Even so, it's enough to lessen the distraction a moment, and there's a slight crinkle in his brow as if he's starting to feel something not quite right, before Fizz draws his attention again with, "Ah, baccarat, here. Baccarat chemin-de-fer, queen of games." Does he even know how to play that? Probably not; what are the chances an Oregon frat boy did? Sounds good, though. He lifts his martini toward the bald man, subtly luring him into a toast, "To Lady Luck, eh? May she always come crawling back."
As soon as the drinks are there it provides her a good enough reason to move away from the bald man, and she moves towards the glass of her own drink, lifting it up. She then takes a quick sip from it before she slides her arm around Bon-Vivant's shoulders now, leaning in to give his cheek another kiss, then she murmurs quietly, "We should leave before he checks his pockets."
It's as quiet as she can, and then she takes another sip from her drink before she smiles at the bald headed man, "We should be going, actually." She lifts a hand to slide her hand into B-V's hair, "He promised to show me a good time..." It's said in her very best vapid voice.
The toast complete, the Bon-Vivant inclines his head to their new 'friend', and slides his glass-free arm around the Bravo's waist. "Well, can't disappoint a lady," he not-exactly-apologises, either injecting a little bit of 'smug' or failing to entirely repress it. Same result, either way. Another grin for the man, and he turns, bringing Bunny along with him as he saunters from the bar, sipping at his drink. It's not until they're out of sight that he makes a swift but 'casual' glance back over his shoulder, then to her, and murmurs, "What'd you find? Anything that might be, like, microfilm?" Okay, leftovers of Scott's speech patterns in a Sean Connerysh accent is... a strange mix.
"Nothing on him, unless it was in the poker chips. But..." Bravo reaches into her pocket to pull out the man's room key, "We can go toss his room." She checks the room number on it, "Second floor it looks like." She then tucks the key back into her pocket, looking far too pleased by the theft, "Roxie was sort of good at this...not this this...she wasn't a pickpocket. But she enjoyed proving that she could steal things."
She glances around slowly, leaning in towards him, "Maybe before we leave we can see if we can't break in to where they keep all the money?"
The Bon-Vivant glances around as well, then back to her, and grins broadly, an unusually feral edge to an expression that so far usually seems to just range from delighted to wicked on him. "Fuck it, what're they gonna do, arrest us?" Okay, yeah, quite possibly. But they'll still just wake up in bed, right? And even subjectively faster if they get killed...
He may have forgotten the accent, just then, but it returns for, "...but first, second floor. Think he'll be down there long enough to get room service?" A small pause. "All right, I suppose that wouldn't exactly be A+ spycraft." He surveys the place as they walk, sipping his drink and assessing the layout as best he can; when his martini's done, he sets the glass down on the tray of a waiter who happens to be passing by, ignoring that it's actually a tray of canapes, and continues onward to the elevator.
"I think he's not going to budge from that spot until they make him...he's in for a long drinking night." Bravo replies as she glances back towards where the man was, not that they are anywhere close enough to be able to see the man any more. Then she reaches for the button when they finally reach the elevator, pulling they key out once more.
"I say we order everything, charge it to his room, and plot our grand robbery in the process." Somehow they've gone from spies to robbers, but she seems to be willing to go with the shift in focus. It's all an adventure of some kind or another, right? "I bet that between the pair of us, we could get in and get out before they even noticed it."
"We've still gotta check for the microfilm," the Bon-Vivant says, because they've got a self-appointed job to do, "but I think you're likely right about his plans. And when he does want to come back, he's not going to have a key... so he'll be full-on wasted trying to figure out getting a replacement and getting back up here. Five'll get you ten he just passes out in a fountain or something instead." Spoken like a man who's woken up soaking wet with penny marks on his skin at least once.
Once the elevator doors close, he turns a little toward her, arm still around her waist; it brings him in closer, though not so much to press her back against the wall of the lift beside them. Enough to give the impression it might have crossed his mind, perhaps. "Still an area of expertise?" he asks, watching her a moment, "Do we already know where they keep the money, and what kind of protection it might have?" Was Roxie planning to knock over Monte Carlo? If that's the unspoken question, he may well think it's kind of hot if she was.
"They keep it behind a door, down a hallway, two turns to the left, another hallway, then past another vault door...." Bravo replies as she tilts her head, pulling the memory up from somewhere. It's possible that Roxie was actually planning to knock over the casino in Monte Carlo. "You have a few chances to get in depending on the time of day it is, when they are going through shift change is the best."
If that was the idea that he was having she seems to be receptive to it, her hands moving to the front of his jacket as she lets her weight shift back towards the wall of the elevator, "There's not as many guards as you think once past the first door, because they figure no one'll get past them. And shift change is still the perfect time to get past them, if you can get past the lock on the door. Electric....state of the art."
Yes, the Bon-Vivant was almost certainly having that idea... and yes, he probably does find the implication of that prior larcenous plotting rather appealing, judging by the further shift of weight toward her, encouraging that movement toward the wall. His arm stays around her as he eases closer. "And I bet you know just when all the shift changes are," he says, keeping the accent going without even thinking about it just now, "...and remember how to make a lock like that do what you say?" It's perhaps not only the Scott part of him that finds smart women attractive -- be it that or any number of other reasons, he doesn't seem inclined to let her answer him immediately, since that would presumably require the use of her mouth, and he has other plans for it. It's not a very long trip to the second floor, but he certainly intends to kiss her for what remains of it, if it's left to him.
There is at least the start to an actual answer to the questions, but when he seems far more inclined towards an entirely different use of what little time remains in the elevator she abandons the attempt at an answer. It's easy, now. Roxie's memory is lurking in her head, and she remembers the last time she kissed Scott. It's different, now. If she were to really break the entire thing down, she knows but she doesn't know, and the dichotomy of the situation isn't lost.
But she's got that ease with it, anyways, her hands release the front of his jacket when he moves in towards her, straightening herself up so that she can wrap her arms around his neck, the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair as she leans in to meet that kiss.
The same, but not the same. The Bon-Vivant may have his own little store of experience, but Scott's was rather more extensive, and there's definitely a familiarity to it all. That ease is in the echo of memory, the arm around her waist tightening to keep her near in a way it has before, and simultaneously for the first time. His other hand finds the back of her neck, and it's not until the doors have not only opened but begun to close again that he pulls away, stepping to catch one and stop them in their tracks. They slide open again, and he gives her a smile, drawing her along with him out into the hall. "Let's find that room," he says, glancing at the marker that says which way the numbers go, then glances at her sidelong and adds with a satisfied sort of teasing, "...and, you were saying?"
"Something about shift changes and ways to get through doors." Bravo replies as she follows him along, then realizes that maybe they might need to double check which room number it is. She pulls the key out again, checking it before she points towards the left, "Should be down that way." She turns it around, tapping a finger against it, "215." As soon as she's sure which direction they are going she begins to move in that direction, holding the key out towards him in case he wants it, "But I could make the lock sing for me, yeah..."
The Bon-Vivant has no particular inclination to let go of her as yet, but that still leaves him a free hand, and he takes the key, humming something faintly to himself as he scans the doors they pass for their numbers. "--ah. 215." He slips the key into the lock, and turns it, head tilted to listen for any sounds within. Nothing catches his ear, so he turns the knob, standing the pair of them slightly aside as he pushes the door open. They may be somewhere between genres right now, but both of them prescribe care in entering a stranger's hotel room. Hell, they prescribe a certain amount of care in entering one's own. It's important to check for violent thugs before ushering one's companion in.
Or ghosts. Thankfully there doesn't appear to be any of anything lurking in the darkness of the room. When she heads in side one hand reaches towards the wall, a hand searching for the lightswitch on it, "So are we searching the room first...ordering room service....oooor..." She lets the thought trail off just a bit, letting him fill in the blank on the third object in whatever way he sees fit.
The light comes on to reveal quite a nice room, really. Second floor, so no penthouse level amenities, but it's large and well-appointed, with windows that give a good if not particularly lofty view. Housekeeping seems likely to have been here while the owner was losing his cash; the bed's neatly made, everything tidily arranged, except an overcoat haphazardly tossed over the chair at the desk, and only the bottom half of the top sheet of the notepad in front of it ripped off. The bathroom door is open, though all that can be easily seen from the entryway is that it's probably also recently cleaned and neatened, and makes use of an awful lot of marble.
The Bon-Vivant closes and locks the door behind them, taking a look around from where he stands, and grins again at her question. "Let's be efficient," he says, moving toward her again, "Order room service, search while we wait for it," his arm sneaks around her waist to tug her in closely again, even if there isn't a wall there being cooperative this time, "...or." It sounds more like step three than an alternate option. But chances are decent that could changed if she felt like changing it.
Usually Bravo is all for her roles, playing any she's decided to take on to perfection....even if that means she's spent days rehearsing lines for no audience at all. But that was then, and this is now. "We can order room service." It was part of the original plan, afterall. Part of taking advantage of the poor man that is losing all of his money. It doesn't matter, though, since the money and the man isn't real. Right?
Morals be damned. The pull in close to him causes her to take the final step towards him, one hand reaching up to slide against the back of his neck before she leans in to give him a very quick kiss before she starts to break it, and move back, "You order...and I'll get comfortable." Not search the room. To indicate what she means by get comfortable she reaches up to start sliding her jacket back off her shoulders as she tries to walk back a few steps from him.
Right! People who don't actually exist don't need to be treated ethically. Do they? It's possible that might give the Bon-Vivant pause if he were thinking about it. He isn't, though. He particularly isn't after she leans in for that kiss, and there's a moment of resistance when she starts trying to step back. Only a moment, at least for now; he lets go, watching her shed the coat. "Well. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable," he says, and at /some/ point he's doing to drop the accent. This is not that point. Nor is the phone call, though that's at least justifiable, right? They're undercover. Ish. He makes the order while watching her, with a quick pause to check whether she wants anything in particular, and it doesn't take particularly long. Once that's complete, he follows her example, undoing the button of his jacket and sliding it off. It /would/ be a good time to do that whole searching thing, as planned, but... really, is there a hurry? What would James Bond do? ...all right, what order would James Bond do it in?
The very nice jacket ends up on the floor, and the shirt is reached for as well, fingers starting to work down the buttons, undoing them until she's about halway before she stops to tug the hem of her shirt out of her pants. There doesn't appear to be anything she wants from room service food wise, but there is a simple request for champagne that is tossed out last minute. Those heels are kicked out of, and she's careful to actually kick them out of the way of anyone wanting to walk around, tripping and dying at /this/ moment would be bad. As soon as he is off the phone she is moving back towards him, not waiting for him to get much further than his jacket off before she's reaching for him again.
The Bon-Vivant's very nice jacket almost ends up on the chair with the overcoat, but he's not actually looking where he's putting it, so it ends up on the floor as well. Well, they're still matched. He does absolutely nothing to avoid being reached for, reaching for her in return. One arm goes around her again, the other hand between them to find the buttons of her shirt that she hadn't quite gotten to yet. "How long do you think they'll take?" he asks absently; not a strong concern, clearly, more a point of interest. He might actually let her answer before kissing her again, this time. Or not. Depends very much how quickly she talks, if at all.
"Thirty minutes? At the most." Bravo replies, glancing down at his hand when he starts to work on the buttons that she didn't get a chance to get to yet, then she turns her attention back to him. Answer is given, and if he doesn't kiss her first she is moving towards him for the kiss all on her own, her hands skipping the shirt and instead goes right down for his pants to start getting those undone first.
No rush, utterly relaxed in the warmest, boneless of ways. Those kisses are returned, and seems to be content with that, shifting only when he starts to roll to his side. There is a bit of adjustment for the change in positions, one arm lifting upwards, tucking beneath her head, her leg releasing it's hold on him so that only the one that ends up on the top is still in place. Once settled, and keeping herself in against him as close as she can, she breaks that kiss, only to lightly brush the tip of her nose against his, an amused smile teasing at her lips, "Hi."
The Bon-Vivant's nose wrinkles at the brush, as though it tickled, and the grin suddenly breaks free at the greeting, one of the breaths he's still not entirely regained emerging as another near-silent laugh. "Hi," he replies, and returns the little nose-touch as well. A deeper breath, and a rather contented one, and he adds, "Fancy meeting you here." The accent's been abandoned now, or just forgotten; either way it's probably all for the better.
"I know, right? Like kismet or something." Bravo replies with a laugh, the sound light and quiet as she moves a hand against his neck, thumb brushing over the line of his jaw, "If I'd known I'd be running into you here I might have done my hair." Which, her hair was done at one point, but now it looks a little messy. There is a very amused smile at it for a moment before she leans in to give him another kiss, light and quick before she rests her forehead against his, her words turning a little more serious as she observes, "That was...amazing."
The Bon-Vivant's gaze flicks up to take in her hair, when she mentions it, then back to her eyes. "I like it this way," he says, mirroring the amused smile, and his eyes close for the kiss, staying that way when their foreheads touch. The expression matches that earlier breath, relaxed and contented. Even if it's probably a slightly blurry expression if she's looking at it from there. He probably couldn't help the smile that spreads at her observation if he tried, and he doesn't particularly try; his eyes do half-open again, though, and he agrees quite genuinely, "...yeah. It kinda was." There's a brief moment of consideration before he adds, "We should do that again." Okay, it didn't take /much/ consideration. And he clearly doesn't mean right now. Though, maybe after they eat...
There is a light laugh when he says that he likes her hair like this, but she seems fairly content to just go with it, even if she might think he's being silly about the hair. She lets her eyes close, so that having to focus on his too close expression doesn't become a problem, instead she just soaks up the relaxing feel of the situation. Until he starts talking again, and she laughs once more, nodding, "I'd like that, yeah." It doesn't actually require much thought before she agrees with him on wanting to do it again. Then she adds, "Any time." Just in case. But she doesn't seem ready to do it again right this second, either. Instead she seems more than happy to just relax with him, enjoying the warmth of the moment now. Until another thought intrudes itself in her mind, "You know what else we should do?"
"Mmm." He closes his eyes again, and contemplates that question for a couple seconds. "My top three right now are eat something, maybe see if the bath in there's got jets, and... try the spy thing again sometime soon only making it actually have spies for us to deal with." They could theoretically even do those in order. Once they're done with the whole warm relaxing and general cuddling thing, which he is not. So possibly 'more of this' should have been the actual #1 there. "Am I close?"
"If the one here doesn't, the one in my room does. It's huge." Bravo has no idea why she's got a huge tub, but she's willing to share it if a bath in a tub with jets is something that are on the must have list. "I was just going to say number three, though. Maybe we could pull others in...like a dinner and a show, mystery theater thing?" She tilts her head, catching his mouth for another, quick kiss before she smiles, pointing out quietly, "So, yes. You're very, very close."
The Bon-Vivant grins at the mention of her tub, and chases that kiss of hers before he lets her talk, and looks at her again. "Like, to help find and catch the spy? ...yeah, that might be fun," he says, turning it over in his mind. The grin returns, and he admits, "I kinda do also wanna be James Bond though. So we might need a second version still." The one where he gets to do the awesome! ...though she can probably be awesome too. Certainly if today's been any indication. He doesn't have to do ALL the awesome. "Think trying to rob this place'd be more fun when it's like this or if we set it up for that to be the objective?" It was really only a matter of time before someone started trying to turn this into high-tech video games. Doesn't seem wrong that it's them.
He steals a kiss this time. "I like being very, very close," he murmurs, "...and my tub's huge and has jets in it too. We should see each other's rooms." Which he really means, but if there's a feeling of innuendo in it... he probably kind of means that, too.
"You can be Bond. But I'm not going to be Pussy Galore. I want to be..." Bravo trails off, shaking her head, "Someone, I'm sure we can figure it out. Do that, twice, or if we do the group spy game you can still be Bond. We write our own parts for it, or choose one, I guess...I've a bunch of plays and things in my room. I'm sure something in there could be adapted. But, I think we should set it up so that is the objective...so that we aren't faking it."
The stolen kiss is returned, and then stolen back before she laughs, a hand sliding down against his side, "I like you being very, very close as well....and we should see each others rooms. And tubs, to compare to make sure that mine is the better tub."
"I think you'll find mine's the best," Fizz replies, successfully sounding serious, but not doing as well at schooling his expression so the smile doesn't keep creeping out. He slides a hand up along her arm, and into her hair, taking advantage of its current state of disarray to idly rub along the nape of her neck. "You could be Vesper Lynd," he says, "From Casino Royale. Double agent." He tilts his head, glancing up and off to the side a moment, "...okay, maybe not. I don't want to have to kill you. Or vice versa. Maybe just /single/ agent. Yeah, though, if we can get it to do things how we want, that's better than faking it. More exciting, and we could actually win." Or lose!
"I wouldn't want you to have to kill me, either. But she was a pretty sexy secret agent..." Bravo points out with a smile, it might have been a laugh at one point, but the rubbing at the nape of her neck has relaxed her enough that she isn't putting in the effort to laugh just yet. Instead she tilts her head forward some, eyes falling closed, "The risk, and reward, would be more if it was somehow programed to handle the whole thing, and we could...see what happens." There is a brief upwards peek at him before she points out, "So far seeing what happens has worked out for us."
"Seeing what happens is one of my favourite plans," the Bon-Vivant replies, "...especially today, so far." And as long as he's thinking about it, he tilts his head down to catch her lips again. This time it's not quite so quick. Maybe it's the mention of that plan that leads him to, "...did you ever see that old movie, Ocean's Eleven? We could do something like that, maybe." A pause, and he glances around. "Maybe we could do /actually that/, like... maybe we could get this place to base itself on a movie, and fill in the parts or something. That'd be interesting. Good on the risk and reward thing probably. We'd need more of a plan for something like that, though. That'd be part of the point on that one."
"With the rat pack? Yeah, I saw it." Bravo then pauses, adding, "Roxie saw it." She glances around the room, then nods, "If this place can figure out this casino from half formed ideas...yeah. I bet that it could really do a good job with the casino from that movie, that whole thing. Actually." She decides, then turns her attention back to his face, looking amused for a moment, "I get to be Danny Ocean, right?" She actualy waggles her brows at that, a hand once more lifting to his face, sliding her fingers against the scruff of his beard. "I do like this...it's different."
"What, not the electrician?" BV teases, "Wasting your hard-earned talents. ...yeah, maybe, though. Let's see your Sinatra." He grins again, and lets his eyes half-close as she rubs her fingers along the beard. "Mm. I like /that/," he says, leaning into it a little. "And maybe I'll leave it alone more often, then. Not always, though. I'd get bored." Lucky he doesn't have to deal with waiting for hair to grow back the normal way, really! "Also I kinda like it other ways, too. But scritching it feels nice when it's like this."
"I guess that I could be the electrician...I at least could pull off knowing what I was talking about better. I'm no Sinatra, that much I know." Bravo replies with an amused laugh before she drops her hand, leaning in instead to rub her cheek against his, then across his jaw, feeling the scratchiness against her skin. "No, no getting bored. But I do like it, feels itchy and soft, all at the same time." She pauses in what she's doing, pulling away from him, "What other ways do you like it?"
The Bon-Vivant is pretty content to let her rub her cheek against his and explore how it feels, right up until she stops. Aw. Either he got slightly distracted, or just has his gutter-mind fired up right now, because her question gives him literal pause. "Mostly I end up with kinda a goatee, or I shave it all off," he says, "...but sometimes I do other stuff when I'm getting there. Like, really long sideburns, or a soul patch, or just the moustache, or the beard without the 'stache. Also some other things I dunno names for, which mostly look sillier." But, from the tone, are still kind of fun to mess around with.
"Sounds like you've spent a lot of time messing around with it." Which just seems to amuse her, because she shifts up a little on her elbow, a hand reaching behind her to tug a strand of her hair over her shoulder, "Early on I messed with my hair a lot, then found wigs in the back of my closet....but I mostly like it like this." She easily settles back on the bed, her hand returning to his face, and the beard, "But I still go through all that with makeup...and clothes." It's only slightly the same, and she knows that. "You should show me some of the other looks sometime. Maybe when we compare tubs or something."
"I don't think I've got wigs in mine," Fizz says as though it's never occurred to him to check for that, but there's a pretty decent chance he may when they get back. "I've got scissors and mirrors and stuff though." She probably remembers seeing him before the Lodge, even if most of the sightings might have been in brief passing; his hair's usually been shorter than this, and ranged from short enough to qualify as spiky to decidedly Scott-esque. Thank you, MTV influence. He's apparently not too bad at it if he's been doing it himself. "So, yeah, I guess I've spent a while messing with it. I don't have any makeup, though, so you know. Probably evens out." Another grin, and his hand drifts to toy with her hair again, this time more directly the hair itself. "I could show you some of the others, yeah. If you're there in the morning, before I mess with it."
"You're practically next door." Literally, more accurately. "I bet if I got out of bed fast enough I could get over there really soon after waking up." It's a thought that she seems to be working out the basics of. How fast she can get up, get something not terrible on, and get through a door. It seems that she decides that she could do it fast enough that he wouldn't feel undue stress in having to wait, because she smiles slowly, "Yeah, I can come over before you mess with it. Or you could come over to my room. I've an entire wall of mirrors, with great big lights."
"I could probably get there pretty fast," muses the guy who one way or another ended up not only at breakfast but in here without apparently having changed a single things post-wakening. Yeah, he probably could. Somehow it's the seriousness that manages to suggest he might see the humour in there. It /is/ maybe a little weird if you start thinking of it in concert with the whole hair thing, though. "A whole wall of mirrors, huh? Is it in your bedroom or your bathroom?" Hm. "Or your closet?"
"Bedroom. Looks like a dressing room in a theater." Bravo doesn't even seem phased by the fact one whole wall is mirrors, and that every move in her room is reflected back towards her. "But there are mirrors in the bathroom as well. Infact, my whole room seems to have quite a lot of mirrors in it..." She wrinkles her nose a bit, looking amused, "I guess I must really like looking at myself." She leans in to give him another kiss before she adds, "You should come over one morning. And I'll go over another. Until we've seen all the possibilities laid out." She then shifts forward, moving to tuck her head beneath his chin, "So food, bath...maybe a quick nap? Then we go to construct our crew."