[open] lately i'm feeling like a big bang

[brightline]

WHO: Marco; Ax + OPEN
WHERE: Various
WHEN: immediately following orientation
WHAT: Marco is getting his bearings on the ship and trying to figure out some strategy. Which includes making friends. Hopefully.
WARNINGS: Will be noted in subject lines if applicable.



[i. shopping center]

[It's so Rachel, heading straight to the shopping center after getting out of orientation, but he's trying not to think about that too much. Orientation. It still seems completely insane, abruptly waking up in a creepy glass tube on a spaceship the size of...well, it's huge. And being told that he's here because it's a side effect of the engines. Seriously. Why keep using the engines if this is the side effect?

So it's time to go in search of three very important things when a guy needs to get his mind off things - a food court, a movie theatre, and an arcade. Marco can be found at any of these three places for the first half-day of his stay on the Eluvio, somehow managing to ignore reality, vent his frustration, and gather intel all at the same time.]

[ii. black market]

[It actually takes Marco about five minutes to realize he's in an actual black market, because aren't they supposed to be way harder than this to find? Like, door in a secluded back alley with a suspicious slit in the door where you have to do a coded knock then speak a password?

It's actually the organs that clue him in - nasty lumps of flesh and blood in little jars or futuristic energy fields, and only some of them human. That's when he realizes that going down the little hallway with the red triangle while scoping around looking for the hangar was probably not the greatest idea ever.

Or maybe the opposite.]

Whoa, holy crap, is this like, a holographic projector or something?

[And he's leaning excitedly over the edge of the table, probably about to get swindled pretty bad.]

[iii. hangar bay]

[Finally, he ends up in the hangar bay, wanders around for a bit before stooping to asking for directions, and eventually ends up in one of the bays intended for cargo ships and the like. And there she is. The Rachel.

A viciously beautiful ship shaped like a swept-forward crescent moon, dangerous and quick. And, as far as he can tell, his. It might not be nine million dollars, but it's definitely something.

Speaking to no one in particular, he waves a hand toward it across the bay.]

Is that not the nicest looking ship ever?

Comments

[doxing]

(surprises are one of a kind; she has a soft spot in her heart for a great reaction. without words, marco's flattering her in a purely entertaining way — because beautiful women are a dime a dozen, but beautifully odd, striking, unique? those are the qualities she covets. and sombra loves to flaunt.

mirroring marco's smirk, her chin lifts, eyebrow high.)

Sombra. (offering a hand, bedazzled with more lights, more strange technology, all wired up to pretty pink nails.) Guess you're our new expert, then, even fresh out of orientation. I'll take care of the black market, you handle the big, bad things that go bump in the night. We got a deal?

They want your money or your quick exit, amigo.

[brightline]

[She is definitely, absolutely all of those things. Also totally out of his league. Totally. And Marco, being Marco, could not care less.

So when she says that he can take care of the big, bad things that go bump in the night, he lifts his chin, his shoulders square, and he grins proudly at her.]

You bet. I'd watch your back anytime.

[Winking at her, he keeps the grin in place, and looks around the black market, nodding.]

Makes sense. I was just looking around to see if there were any cool toys.

[doxing]

I bet you would... (pinning him with an up-down stare,) But ah, don't stare too long. You might go blind.

(not to mention she bites. hard.

but she is "amicable" enough to lean around him, fingers finding the doohickey he was checking out. nothing close to a holographic projector, or what she's seen of them. and considering she works closely with them, as they're literally wired into her head, sombra considers herself something of an expert.)

This is cheap as hell. (lifting it, tilting it, before dropping it unceremoniously.)

—Ay and look at this thing, everything's a piece of garbage.

(pushing a funny little bobble that looks suspiciously like an alien translator. say something.)

[brightline]

[Raising a brow, he grins, cocks his hip out and rests his hand on it. The grin goes a little crooked, more of a smirk, when she says that he might go blind if he stares too long.]

If you were the last thing I saw, I'd be fine with going blind.

[Not only is it cheesy and ridiculous, it's completely genuine. After all, she's super hot, some kind of perfect-haired, perfect-complexioned cybernetic goddess. That makes it easy to not be offended when she says that the thing he was looking at is cheap as hell and that everything here is garbage.]

Uh-huh.

['Close your mouth, Marco. You're a millionaire actor, author, war hero, tv personality and general celebrity, not an idiot teenager. Be cool.'

So he closes his mouth, and grins at her again, a little more warm this time.]

Oh, uh... [He raises a brow at her.] If this is trash, you wanna show me something good?

[doxing]

(another drop of her eyes at the compliment, purposeful now that she knows the kind of woman she is is the kind of woman he likes, raking up a better image that drags from his shoes to his hair. before she's turning away to examine the expanse of stalls, neon nails dragging from table to table as she walks off.

a glance over her shoulder, expression flat.) I can show you something good. C'mon down, chico.

(sombra isn't one for entertaining young men, thinking back to overwatch with a scoff beneath her breath. anyone younger than her thirty years, twenty-five if she's generous, tends to err on the side of irritating. unbothered by marco, she'll give him time to become like the rest of them. pretentious, spoiled, conceited.

soft-footed steps come to a stop in front of a weapon's case, scanning them with a drag of a hand down the glass. now these... these are nice.)

Feast your eyes.

[brightline]

[Marco's not a shy person by any means, so when she gives him that appraising look, dragging her eyes from bottom to top, he can't help but grin. Cocking a hip, he puts his hand on it and raises a brow, a non-verbal like what you see?

He might be short, but he's cute and he knows it. Tosses his hair out of his eyes.]

I bet you could...

[It's quiet, but confident, at least, even if she doesn't seem interested. It doesn't bug him, not really, he's used to the odd rejection, even if they've been coming less and less the older and more famous he gets. So he follows after her, hands on his hips, raises his brow when he sees the case of weapons.]

Oh, I see. You're that kinda woman. I like it.

4 years l8r.........

[doxing]

(don't worry marco, she's not an amazon by any means.

now sombra can be described as a patient woman; she can wait to get the results she wants. but with people, she has the tendency to push away as quickly and as savagely as possible when it becomes even a fraction of a nuisance.

which is why she wheels around and steps into his personal space, chin low, a shaved brow high.)

Oh, cálmate, Marco. Popping a boner would only really be embarrassing for one of us. (as blunt as ever, because censoring yourself is so y2k.) If you think oppressive flirting is gonna get you a hot date, boy, you better roll up your tongue and call your mother.