[ Though she rarely would get seasick, Jill still isn't particularly fond of long treks on open waters. It's not exactly unpleasant, but she can't name a single time she's managed to avoid stormy skies and violent tides, rocking boat or jet ski until she feels nauseated. The tugboat was larger than expected, but by the time they had hit their destination via a rocky alcove, her legs still felt like they were being moved of their own accord and vibrating despite the solid land beneath her. Her pack is attached firmly both to hip and back and she's in the middle of fixing her AR to a comfortable space on the bag before heading out a little further.
Jill starts by scanning the immediate area, she waits for her newly assigned partner to catch up. They'll have to find another way off this island to the nearest one, but it shouldn't be an issue after they carry on with information gathering. Hopefully it would be more along the lines of giving a disgruntled guard a week's pay instead of having to fight their way off, but she's prepared for either obstacle and then some. After a moment, she drags herself toward the mouth of the cave, overlooking the expanse of thick foliage below; it's scattered with small outposts, some larger than the others. Intel suggests they're factories and the fact that they aren't on the main island means they're not immediately important, perhaps even extraneous to the work being done elsewhere.
She readjusts here pack, rolling a shoulder as she tries to make out anything more in the distance. It's all shrouded by tree canopy or the lay of the land. Though where they are has a small vantage point, it's not nearly high enough to hit the other edges of the island and see to the others nearby. There's bound to be more guards, if not BOWs spread throughout but she's itching to get rid of the sea legs already. ]
You about ready to head off? [ She throws her voice low so there's no echoing off the cavern walls. In some vague attempt to be more friendly, she commits to it with a crooked smile, eyebrows raised. ] Know I was introduced with full name and we haven't done much chatting, but just Jill's fine.
[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.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
where's my gif
Jill starts by scanning the immediate area, she waits for her newly assigned partner to catch up. They'll have to find another way off this island to the nearest one, but it shouldn't be an issue after they carry on with information gathering. Hopefully it would be more along the lines of giving a disgruntled guard a week's pay instead of having to fight their way off, but she's prepared for either obstacle and then some. After a moment, she drags herself toward the mouth of the cave, overlooking the expanse of thick foliage below; it's scattered with small outposts, some larger than the others. Intel suggests they're factories and the fact that they aren't on the main island means they're not immediately important, perhaps even extraneous to the work being done elsewhere.
She readjusts here pack, rolling a shoulder as she tries to make out anything more in the distance. It's all shrouded by tree canopy or the lay of the land. Though where they are has a small vantage point, it's not nearly high enough to hit the other edges of the island and see to the others nearby. There's bound to be more guards, if not BOWs spread throughout but she's itching to get rid of the sea legs already. ]
You about ready to head off? [ She throws her voice low so there's no echoing off the cavern walls. In some vague attempt to be more friendly, she commits to it with a crooked smile, eyebrows raised. ] Know I was introduced with full name and we haven't done much chatting, but just Jill's fine.
got a one-frame gif for you fam
i would've went with maniac cop
you'll get robocop and you'll like it
please sir can i have some more
there is enough brobocop for all the sad hungry british orphans
i thought that said bopit and i'm like i bet there is
I'M ALIVE also wrong icon but too lazy to resub rn
you think you can just come waltzing back on into my life like this
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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.]
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it's aliiiiive
aaahhhh
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