[A well-dressed Aug is still a damned Aug, and unwelcome at anything but the seediest of dive bars – just one of the many charms of this city Adam knew so well (but Isha, still the recent INTERPOL transplant, had yet to fully realize.) But after getting turned away from two restaurants, what'd appeared to have been a failed evening out had turned into a spur of the moment decision, and several things had made themselves very clear.
One: crashing a wedding is, in fact, as easy as the movies make it seem. Almost annoyingly so.
Two: top-of-the-line leg replacements – no matter how advanced the design – are not and never will be a substitute for actual dancing ability.
And three: Isha's capacity for smooth-talking and bullshittery is practically boundless and, if he didn't know any better, he'd swear she has a CASIE mod she isn't telling him about. Not even because she'd talked him into the party in the first place – the fact that Adam's a soft touch when it comes to her had (unfortunately) stopped being a secret long ago – but witnessing her successfully convince several guests sober enough to be suspicious that a pair of wayward Augs belonged at a reception like that had been like watching an artist at work.
(Honestly– he could stand to take a few pointers.)
But as the evening had died to give way for the early hours of the morning, so too had the music and the laughter and their cover along with it, and eventually it became time for the two of them to slip back out into the cold – a little warmer, if only for all the complimentary wine – and find their way back to her place. The snowfall, though little more than a flurry when they'd ducked into the wedding hours ago, had quickly accumulated and blanketed everything in a layer of white. Prague winter nights at their most picturesque... At least if you can ignore the state police at every corner and the openly hostile looks from the non-augmented. Mercifully, however, the weather and the biting wind seem to have driven most people back into their homes, leaving the darkened streets empty and quiet save for the crunch of his and her footsteps on the fresh snow.]
Told you I couldn't dance.
[It's not like him to wear a fault like a badge of honor, but it might be enough to distract her from the fact that maybe – just maybe – Adam "No Fun Allowed" Jensen might've enjoyed himself a little tonight.
It also might be enough to distract her from the top hat – hot pink, sequined, and very not his style – that seems to have escaped on his head, a souvenir liberated from the wedding's photo booth.
Come to think of it, that may have accounted for some of the looks.]
She didn't know just how bad the Augs had it in the city, how hated they were, and how much trouble they were simply by existing in a space.
Clearly it didn't stop her, not now, not ever. What she knows are people. That's really all it took. When you get down to the basics, it's really easy to read any kind of person from anywhere. What was it about universal truths?
Isha had actually never been to Prague. For someone with as much money to burn as her, there was something about keeping to usual haunts. Prague really was something special in the winter. The state police didn't bother her too much, really. She grew up around police, dodging them, then working for them. She did what she did best: throw her head up high, pretend they're nothing.
And they are nothing, especially now, as she's latched her arm onto Adam's and they make their way through a late winter night.]
And I told you I'm not dating you for your dance moves.
[The distraction is not enough, unfortunately. The sequined top hat has now become One Property of Isha. Not without a kiss to his cheek, though.
She arranges the hat just so, making it lopsided, covering one eye like a real gangster. She looks So Tough. Almost as tough as No Fun Adam? Maybe.]
[–1 stupid hat, +1 kiss. Not a bad trade. He takes the opportunity, while she's let go of his arm, to slip his hand around her waist.
He snorts lightly.] Answer carefully now, Adam...
[A quiet aside that's neither quiet nor to the side enough for it to sound like anything but his usual Jensen brand of sarcasm. If she's not dating him for his dance moves, it's got to be for his sense of humor, right?
But luckily, he's just kind of fallen into things with the one woman he's ever known to happily take even shameless flattery at face value. So, joking aside, this probably is the one time "how do I look" doesn't have to be a risky question to try and answer– or however the cliché goes.]
You make anything look good.
[Basically true. But there's got to be a "but..."]
But– [he adds with an exagerratedly appraising eye, tipping the brim of the hat back up with one finger in an attempt to un-gangster it] –I'm not sure even you can make this look catch on.
[Which sounds like as much of a challenge as she'd like it to sound, honestly.
The hat, unfortunately, still looks exactly as gangster as it did a second ago. Which is to say: not a goddamn bit. Adam might have the whole "fixer of problems" thing going on, but there are limits to what even he can do.]
It's the sequins isn't it? [She sighs oh so dramatically as she removes the hat. For all of its pink glittery glory, there are simply some things Isha can't make look good.
Isha hadn't expected any kind of real answer from him, but he knows her well enough. A good compliment would get him a long way. Dating her is deceptively easy, once you can figure out just exactly how she thinks.
Which is real challenge. Adam seems to have figured it out some of the way. She'd never admit how pleased she is by that.]
I knew it would end this way.
[Their slight height difference made for nearly everything being easier. In this moment, it's the minimal effort it takes to press her lips against his. The hat, once an accessory, serves to hide their faces ass he holds it up. Because who knows what soul is going to catch them, right?
The all of no one outside in the streets, of course.]
We should do this more often.
[Random wedding crashing and all.]
So I can tell you how much I like you when you're not being so serious. You do know you're actually fun, right?
Do what? This? [And with that feigned air of ignorance, he returns the kiss with one of his own while they've still got the privacy of that stupid hat– his just the slightest bit more insistent than her last.
But only because it was her suggestion. Really.
He draws away, a considerable silence following her question as if he were seriously mulling it over – does he know he's actually fun? – before finally leveling her with a look far too solemn for anyone to take seriously.]
Just don't go telling everyone. Ruins the surprise.
[In a city already full of conspiracies, the fact that Adam Jensen knows the meaning of the word "fun" is probably the best-kept secret in all of Prague– and he'd very much like to keep it that way. Crazy as it might seem, this reputation he's got for being a quiet, unapproachable loner suits him just fine. Keeps people from asking questions. He's always been someone who values his privacy, but in light of things – the person currently by his side, namely – lately it's felt so much more crucial to maintain.
...Especially because no one at the agency really needs to know that two of their biggest wild cards are spending this much time together. He's wreaked enough havoc on his boss's blood pressure as it is.]
I can do fun. [One of his wry half-smiles tugs at the corner of his mouth. See? Cutting loose.] But I just can't help but notice that there's a lot of overlap between things you find fun and things that tend to piss the state police off.
[You can take the cat out of the jungle... But you can't take the master thief out of the INTERPOL agent. Or something like that. Not that he's exactly Mr. Straight and Narrow himself – and he's never really tried to convince Isha otherwise – but someone's got to make a half-hearted, token attempt at being the advocate for the path of morality here. Or at least the advocate for the path of not making a habit out of gatecrashing highly visible events.]
[She frowns a little at his incredibly astute observation. Sure, he's not exactly the most moral person she's ever met, and more often than not she imagines he'd rather punch his way out of a situation instead of talking it out.
But he has, in some marginal way, helped to at least think past the criminal-only tendencies.
Lifelong habits are hard to break.]
If I make out with you, will you stop moralizing at me?
[The go-to move, nice.
The good thing about their mutual secrecy, though? No one would really pin them for being together, and definitely not like this. Sometimes Isha would get a hard time from her coworkers. He can't stay away, you must really be up to something, they'd tease. All of them knew just how easy it is for her to reel in men and to push them aside once she's done. Mission parameters and all.
Reputations and all. Easier to keep a secret behind a veil than to keep a secret, period. Let her own work do the talking for her, while she enjoys her nights out with Adam and then some.
He hid behind his dark lenses and brooding American ways, she hid behind her dark glasses and her charming British ways. They could keep guessing for all she cares. None of them needed to know Adam is so much more than he could ever let on.
They probably didn't need to know either they've been together for more than a few casual times.]
[Don't get him wrong, a lot of what he does tends to piss off state police too. Not exactly a high bar to meet, that (being from INTERPOL would be bad enough – he just had to be an Aug as well, didn't he?) But he's always been someone who prefers to separate his work and his play – and seeing how he's definitely not making enemies for fun...
Well. Best to leave the conflict for day duty. Surprisingly (especially to himself) he prefers to spend his nights like this when he can manage – party crashing and all.]
Has it stopped me before?
[No. Hell no, it hasn't.
Or– not permanently, anyway. Not that she should let that keep her from trying, of course.
At length, he shrugs and adds, with a passable attempt at nonchalance:] They say the fifth time's the charm.
[And before, it'd been the fourth time– and before that, the third time... One might start to see a pattern here, if they cared or anything.]
[His attention's further ahead up the street – ever alert when the two of them are out together like this, always scanning for movement in the dark or for a sign of potential threats – when her arms go around his neck. If that doesn't bring his attention back solely on her, the kiss certainly does – long, drawn out, a reminder that there's more than just one way to keep warm on a frosty winter's night like this. He turns to the brief embrace, slipping his hand around the small of her back and lacing his fingers through the other's.
Adam snorts. He's been accused of being a lot of things– but coy's a new one.]
Some day you're going to have to tell me how it is you do that.
[You know – always getting people to do what she wants. He's going to go ahead and attribute that to some mysterious talent she's got, anyway. Better that than to admit that maybe he's just kind of a pushover when it comes to her. Give her an inch and she'll take a mile – that'd been his initial assessment of her the first time they'd met. He hadn't been wrong.
She pulls back, meeting a second or two's resistance before he obligingly withdraws his hands, resting them instead on her hips. He's silent for a moment further, meeting that challenging look in her eye with his own gaze. Green-gold, slightly reflective even in the dim street light– and saying everything he can't say with words.
No use pretending; with his eyeshields drawn back, he might as well be an open book to her. His reply – when it finally comes – is in a low, quiet murmur.]
Sooner we get you back to your place, sooner we can see if I pass muster.
[She chews her lip, clearly pleased with both of his responses. It's when he's like this that she forgets he's the agent that no one really seems to want to mess with, that no one really knows too much of. She'd rather have him like this, in her arms, and then some that could really only be described by her so-called lack of imagination.
And even with all of his robotics, he's still clearly human, so easy to read and easy to know what he's thinking once he lets his eyes show from behind the lenses. Much how she sees his eyes more than most, he sees this side of her almost exclusively. Wasn't it only months ago she was so adamantly against having anyone be close to her?
How easy that changes once someone gets under your skin and happens to be in your space almost all the time.]
You're driving, mister never drunk. It's all on you.
[Isha leans in again to kiss the curve of his jaw, dropping her voice when she pulls back.]
And that's a trade secret.
[One that he'll never likely figure out, outside of the fact that she freely exploits what little she's given. In his case? An excess of physical touch and affection.
Not that she suffers when she kisses him and runs her fingers through his hair, of course. Maybe, quite possibly, she does it because she wants to, because she actually likes doing these things and not for some sort of endgame? The world may never know.
Adam does have one thing that most others don't: an inkling of how she operates.
How she's operating right now is the same exact way he's operating: there are more fun alternatives to keeping warm on cold European nights.]
Edited (what if I pay attention this time and write something INFINITELY BETTER) 2017-05-29 06:00 (UTC)
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no subject
One: crashing a wedding is, in fact, as easy as the movies make it seem. Almost annoyingly so.
Two: top-of-the-line leg replacements – no matter how advanced the design – are not and never will be a substitute for actual dancing ability.
And three: Isha's capacity for smooth-talking and bullshittery is practically boundless and, if he didn't know any better, he'd swear she has a CASIE mod she isn't telling him about. Not even because she'd talked him into the party in the first place – the fact that Adam's a soft touch when it comes to her had (unfortunately) stopped being a secret long ago – but witnessing her successfully convince several guests sober enough to be suspicious that a pair of wayward Augs belonged at a reception like that had been like watching an artist at work.
(Honestly– he could stand to take a few pointers.)
But as the evening had died to give way for the early hours of the morning, so too had the music and the laughter and their cover along with it, and eventually it became time for the two of them to slip back out into the cold – a little warmer, if only for all the complimentary wine – and find their way back to her place. The snowfall, though little more than a flurry when they'd ducked into the wedding hours ago, had quickly accumulated and blanketed everything in a layer of white. Prague winter nights at their most picturesque... At least if you can ignore the state police at every corner and the openly hostile looks from the non-augmented. Mercifully, however, the weather and the biting wind seem to have driven most people back into their homes, leaving the darkened streets empty and quiet save for the crunch of his and her footsteps on the fresh snow.]
Told you I couldn't dance.
[It's not like him to wear a fault like a badge of honor, but it might be enough to distract her from the fact that maybe – just maybe – Adam "No Fun Allowed" Jensen might've enjoyed himself a little tonight.
It also might be enough to distract her from the top hat – hot pink, sequined, and very not his style – that seems to have escaped on his head, a souvenir liberated from the wedding's photo booth.
Come to think of it, that may have accounted for some of the looks.]
no subject
That was a fact.
She didn't know just how bad the Augs had it in the city, how hated they were, and how much trouble they were simply by existing in a space.
Clearly it didn't stop her, not now, not ever. What she knows are people. That's really all it took. When you get down to the basics, it's really easy to read any kind of person from anywhere. What was it about universal truths?
Isha had actually never been to Prague. For someone with as much money to burn as her, there was something about keeping to usual haunts. Prague really was something special in the winter. The state police didn't bother her too much, really. She grew up around police, dodging them, then working for them. She did what she did best: throw her head up high, pretend they're nothing.
And they are nothing, especially now, as she's latched her arm onto Adam's and they make their way through a late winter night.]
And I told you I'm not dating you for your dance moves.
[The distraction is not enough, unfortunately. The sequined top hat has now become One Property of Isha. Not without a kiss to his cheek, though.
She arranges the hat just so, making it lopsided, covering one eye like a real gangster. She looks So Tough. Almost as tough as No Fun Adam? Maybe.]
How do I look?
no subject
He snorts lightly.] Answer carefully now, Adam...
[A quiet aside that's neither quiet nor to the side enough for it to sound like anything but his usual Jensen brand of sarcasm. If she's not dating him for his dance moves, it's got to be for his sense of humor, right?
But luckily, he's just kind of fallen into things with the one woman he's ever known to happily take even shameless flattery at face value. So, joking aside, this probably is the one time "how do I look" doesn't have to be a risky question to try and answer– or however the cliché goes.]
You make anything look good.
[Basically true. But there's got to be a "but..."]
But– [he adds with an exagerratedly appraising eye, tipping the brim of the hat back up with one finger in an attempt to un-gangster it] –I'm not sure even you can make this look catch on.
[Which sounds like as much of a challenge as she'd like it to sound, honestly.
The hat, unfortunately, still looks exactly as gangster as it did a second ago. Which is to say: not a goddamn bit. Adam might have the whole "fixer of problems" thing going on, but there are limits to what even he can do.]
no subject
Isha hadn't expected any kind of real answer from him, but he knows her well enough. A good compliment would get him a long way. Dating her is deceptively easy, once you can figure out just exactly how she thinks.
Which is real challenge. Adam seems to have figured it out some of the way. She'd never admit how pleased she is by that.]
I knew it would end this way.
[Their slight height difference made for nearly everything being easier. In this moment, it's the minimal effort it takes to press her lips against his. The hat, once an accessory, serves to hide their faces ass he holds it up. Because who knows what soul is going to catch them, right?
The all of no one outside in the streets, of course.]
We should do this more often.
[Random wedding crashing and all.]
So I can tell you how much I like you when you're not being so serious. You do know you're actually fun, right?
it's aliiiiive
But only because it was her suggestion. Really.
He draws away, a considerable silence following her question as if he were seriously mulling it over – does he know he's actually fun? – before finally leveling her with a look far too solemn for anyone to take seriously.]
Just don't go telling everyone. Ruins the surprise.
[In a city already full of conspiracies, the fact that Adam Jensen knows the meaning of the word "fun" is probably the best-kept secret in all of Prague– and he'd very much like to keep it that way. Crazy as it might seem, this reputation he's got for being a quiet, unapproachable loner suits him just fine. Keeps people from asking questions. He's always been someone who values his privacy, but in light of things – the person currently by his side, namely – lately it's felt so much more crucial to maintain.
...Especially because no one at the agency really needs to know that two of their biggest wild cards are spending this much time together. He's wreaked enough havoc on his boss's blood pressure as it is.]
I can do fun. [One of his wry half-smiles tugs at the corner of his mouth. See? Cutting loose.] But I just can't help but notice that there's a lot of overlap between things you find fun and things that tend to piss the state police off.
[You can take the cat out of the jungle... But you can't take the master thief out of the INTERPOL agent. Or something like that. Not that he's exactly Mr. Straight and Narrow himself – and he's never really tried to convince Isha otherwise – but someone's got to make a half-hearted, token attempt at being the advocate for the path of morality here. Or at least the advocate for the path of not making a habit out of gatecrashing highly visible events.]
aaahhhh
But he has, in some marginal way, helped to at least think past the criminal-only tendencies.
Lifelong habits are hard to break.]
If I make out with you, will you stop moralizing at me?
[The go-to move, nice.
The good thing about their mutual secrecy, though? No one would really pin them for being together, and definitely not like this. Sometimes Isha would get a hard time from her coworkers. He can't stay away, you must really be up to something, they'd tease. All of them knew just how easy it is for her to reel in men and to push them aside once she's done. Mission parameters and all.
Reputations and all. Easier to keep a secret behind a veil than to keep a secret, period. Let her own work do the talking for her, while she enjoys her nights out with Adam and then some.
He hid behind his dark lenses and brooding American ways, she hid behind her dark glasses and her charming British ways. They could keep guessing for all she cares. None of them needed to know Adam is so much more than he could ever let on.
They probably didn't need to know either they've been together for more than a few casual times.]
no subject
Well. Best to leave the conflict for day duty. Surprisingly (especially to himself) he prefers to spend his nights like this when he can manage – party crashing and all.]
Has it stopped me before?
[No. Hell no, it hasn't.
Or– not permanently, anyway. Not that she should let that keep her from trying, of course.
At length, he shrugs and adds, with a passable attempt at nonchalance:] They say the fifth time's the charm.
[And before, it'd been the fourth time– and before that, the third time... One might start to see a pattern here, if they cared or anything.]
no subject
[Though it's hard to know what actually is a terrible liar, given that all she does is compulsively lie and she happens to be very good at it.
She brings her arms around his neck, pulling him in close, nose to nose. She grins again, but then again, when is she not grinning?]
You know, you could try coming onto me for once instead of playing coy.
[The kiss she gives him now isn't just a simple peck on his lips. It's drawn out, just enough to tease before she pulls back.]
Come on, impress me. I know you can do it.
[Obviously she doesn't care if he's the toughest, most difficult and antisocial Aug cop she's ever met. He's under performance review at the moment.]
no subject
Adam snorts. He's been accused of being a lot of things– but coy's a new one.]
Some day you're going to have to tell me how it is you do that.
[You know – always getting people to do what she wants. He's going to go ahead and attribute that to some mysterious talent she's got, anyway. Better that than to admit that maybe he's just kind of a pushover when it comes to her. Give her an inch and she'll take a mile – that'd been his initial assessment of her the first time they'd met. He hadn't been wrong.
She pulls back, meeting a second or two's resistance before he obligingly withdraws his hands, resting them instead on her hips. He's silent for a moment further, meeting that challenging look in her eye with his own gaze. Green-gold, slightly reflective even in the dim street light– and saying everything he can't say with words.
No use pretending; with his eyeshields drawn back, he might as well be an open book to her. His reply – when it finally comes – is in a low, quiet murmur.]
Sooner we get you back to your place, sooner we can see if I pass muster.
[Time to get in out of the cold.]
no subject
And even with all of his robotics, he's still clearly human, so easy to read and easy to know what he's thinking once he lets his eyes show from behind the lenses. Much how she sees his eyes more than most, he sees this side of her almost exclusively. Wasn't it only months ago she was so adamantly against having anyone be close to her?
How easy that changes once someone gets under your skin and happens to be in your space almost all the time.]
You're driving, mister never drunk. It's all on you.
[Isha leans in again to kiss the curve of his jaw, dropping her voice when she pulls back.]
And that's a trade secret.
[One that he'll never likely figure out, outside of the fact that she freely exploits what little she's given. In his case? An excess of physical touch and affection.
Not that she suffers when she kisses him and runs her fingers through his hair, of course. Maybe, quite possibly, she does it because she wants to, because she actually likes doing these things and not for some sort of endgame? The world may never know.
Adam does have one thing that most others don't: an inkling of how she operates.
How she's operating right now is the same exact way he's operating: there are more fun alternatives to keeping warm on cold European nights.]