Retired? If only.

[Jay]

“This ain’t a scene; it’s a goddamn arms race!”
True, it wasn’t the most adult of ring tones that he could have chosen for his beat up cell phone, but it was just oh-so-true, now wasn’t it?
And the little added bit in the beginning “I am an arms dealer…with weapons in the form of words”? It was enough to send him into fits of laughter every time he heard it. Darn his daughter for blasting the bit when she was over visiting his lonely little house on the beach. For two weeks now, it had been roaming around the dusty confines of his mind, making a happy little home in his subconscious. And now, as if answering the call of some higher power, he’d equipped his constantly ringing phone with the tune, as if he never wanted it to disperse.
Yeah, that, or he was finally going completely insane. The next thing he knew, he’d be printing out the lyrics and pasting them to his body.
Flipping open the phone, the man sighed into the receiver; his usual greeting. There were only three people that had the caller ID that he’d seen, and they knew better than to expect some chirpy ‘hello!’ from him.
“Yo, D-man!” Tick Tock- not his true name, obviously- crowed, causing the older man to wince. “Whattup my homie?”
“Why won’t you just die and leave me alone?” Came the growled answer as calloused hands ran themselves through solid black hair speckled with traces of grey. As a ‘proud’ member of the “nearing the big 5-0 club”, grey was supposedly his friend.
As well as the container of dye, but that was for later. If he friggin remembered to bring it into the shower with him this time.
“Now, is that nice? Here I am, being perky for the both of us, and you go all rabid on me. Not cool, D. Definitely not cool.”
“I laugh at your displeasure. Ha. Haha.”
As if putting thought to action, the strange man began snorting into the phone. Stopping as a stop light blinked sleepily ‘STOP FOR GAWDSAKES!’, as if invisible traffic were scrambling for a taste of his flesh, he leaned sideways against a lamppost. His gaunt features seemed to fade back into the solid, dark hues of his clothing. Simple dusky jeans, a black button up shirt and a very worn leather jacket completed the outfit, and a ‘why are you talking to me?’ scowl, leafy green eyes and very rumpled pelt completed the man.
Dhamone Katilacuss was a veteran of just about everything, and not-so-happy about it, thank you very much. So when he heard some kid claiming that he wasn’t nice because he didn’t gush into a cell phone? He released that rusty little laugh of his, and bared his teeth at nothing.
Ha. Hahaha.
As he listened to the youthful voice prattle off about manners and his lack thereof, he contented himself by glaring at whatever God was currently looking down at him, laughing Its head clean off. Then, pausing in mid-step, he turned his face up to the sky as a familiar scent assailed him.
Coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee.
Like a bloodhound picking up a scent, he turned abruptly into a café on the side of the street.
“But anyway, D, I’ve got another job lined up for you.” Tick Tock went on, oblivious.
“Do you now? I told you, I’m retired, Tick. If it has anything to do with the army or any of the missions that it has no idea about, and never happened, I’m not interested.”
“This, I think, you might like, Pops. We’ve got some very deep shiznat happening down here, Vet. Things that you might be very interested in.” And he proceeded to describe his newest job.
…And Dhamone was interested. So interested, in fact, that he careened into the counter with a squawked “WHAT?!”, thus scaring his fellow patrons and the poor girl behind the coffee counter.
So, in order to save his pride and beat back the blush that was creeping up his ears, the older man quickly ducked his head, curtly ordered his drink- black with three sugars- he sat down quickly at a table facing the door. Old habits and all that. A deep chested rumble bursted from him. If only he could reach through the phone…
Lordy. Once an Weapons Specialist, always a Weapons Specialist. It was a curse.
And, supposedly, a “goddamn arms race”.

[Lindsey]

ooc|| Mind if I join with Tero? I promise I won't baillll.

[Jay]

Jay:

But of course, dahling.
Join away.
8DD

[Lindsey]

Tero's soft brown eyes gazed down at the file in her hand before snapping it shut with a firm flick of the wrist. I couldn't be at that point yet, could I? That desperate? That pathetic?

She never found her self very attractive, not in the conventional sense, much to the dismay of admirers long past. She was thin, on the slightly unhealthy side really. Long brown hair, brown eyes and porcelain skin, making her perched cherry red lips pop. At one point she could have been a runway model, her icy look would have been worth a pretty penny. But any ambitions like that were dashed at the tender age to 21. No swimsuits for the scarred.

But her time was running out for anything, at least in her mind anyways. 33 years old and feeling like your life is almost over.

She turned the corner, the coffee shop now in sight. She could make it herself, but she preferred not to touch anything in that slimy little apartment her niece called home. Inherited that from her father no doubt, her mother was a compulsive neat freak as her memory served. Among st other things, she thought bitterly.

Sighing, Tero stuffed the file in her purse absently. Out of sight, out of mind? Just for the time being.

Pulling on the cuff of her sleeve first, she pushed the door open to the coffee shop.

[Jay]

Broodingly, Dhamone bent over his coffee, resting his elbows on the stained tabletop.
God, why was it so hard to think of him as a retiree? He was getting on in the years, his reaction time wasn't as quick as it was, and he was just so damn tired. Sure, nobody in the city had as many contacts as he did, and the Company needed his Marine connections to keep the military off of its back, but c'mon. Any new green could take his place and earn his place.
...Haha, yeah, scratch that. He was one of a kind; he could see why Ticky and the rest were freaking out about his resignation.

Score one for Dhamone's ego.

"That's a very interesting idea you have, Tick Tock." The man said into the phone, his voice soft, so's not to draw /too much/ attention to himself. "But I'll have to decline. I'm not in the business anymore. Got it, get it, good."
"Haha, you're funny, boss. This is /Vietnamese/ grade weapons. You /have/ to get in here! Only you can talk to Seo and get a quick answer!"
The arms dealer- shit..ex-arms dealer. He had to remember to add in that 'ex'- smirked into his coffee as he took a sip. This conversation was going nowhere, because he wasn't going anywhere near the arms sindicate anymore. He was done, caput, finis--
And crap, he'd almost convinced himself of that fact, before Ticky went and dropped the bomb. "They've got the Hawk in it too, Dhamone."
Yeah. That pretty much locked him into the deal.

About ten minutes and some serious heartburn later, Dhamone was glaring broodingly down at his hands, one still clutching the now closed cellphone in his hand. He'd just agreed to another job, with the organization that he hated. All for some petty revenge.
...Great.
Pale eyes fluttering up, he watched the newcomer stroll into the cafe. God, how he wished he could steal some of her innocence. By the way she walked, it seemed like she didn't have a care in the world; something he'd go through hell or high water to feel himself.
Sometimes, it just didn't pay to get up in the morning.

[Lindsey]

ooc|| I finally got on, after like so long without internet. =) I wrote a response but it's on my own computer.

[Jay]

Jay:

Alrighty. Post it when ya can, lovely.
^^

[Lindsey]

Tero glanced around the coffee shop quickly before dropping them down to the off-white linoleum floor habitually. Another sleeve tug followed. She felt eyes on her, and it made her body tense as she moved across the room briskly. She knew it was vain to think anyone would gawk at her, a common paranoia of hers, but it was hard to shake most days.

Her hand slipped in to the pocket of her jacket, money ready before the barista had even
turned around. Making a fellow coffee house patron wait behind her while she fumbled with cash to pay the bill? Absurd! Preposterous!

Completely and utterly Tero Baker.

Her eyes wandered from the counter to the rest of the shop, sizing up the people. Now their backs were turned and faces mostly buried in some paper or other. Only a few weren’t reading, including an older man towards the front of the shop. He’d looked up when she’d walked in, and Tero was taking the opportunity now to look at the stranger. But the tiny bell signaling her drink was done rang and she lost her interest.

Her elegant hands fell upon her drink a few minutes later and delicately handled the drink over to a seat she’d picked out while standing in line. Apple Cinnamon Tea, two sugars. Coffee was boring to her this morning, a change in the all powerful caffeine fix substituting for a greater change yet to be deliberated.


ooc|| Muahaha. I am the master of setting up wireless internet all by myself. =D

[Jay]

Le ooc:

I bow down to your technology-savvy-ness...thing. XD
---

“THIS AINT’A SCENE, IT’S A GODDAMN ARMS RACE!” Howled into the semi-silence of the café, earning him some seriously evil glares. What? It wasn’t his fault that the damn thing was on loud; he’d never learned how to deal with the volume. He knew that it was some button on the side panel, but every time he fiddled with it, the volume seemed to increase, and the ringer scream even louder.
In short, he just couldn’t win.

Checking the caller ID, he sighed, placing his palm over the front to muffle the sound. It was Ticky again; probably to freak about him accepting this job. He was supposed to be retired, but nobody believed that…even him, to an extent. His life would never be boring; ‘normal’, as his son Garric called it. He’d been born into a world of violence, and he’d probably die as a not-so-innocent casualty in one, probably at the other end of the earth somewhere.
In a jungle.
With a hell of a lot of dead bodies littered around him.

Dhamone wasn’t know as ‘The Jackal’ for nothing, after all.

Not one to care if it made the recipient uncomfortable, the older man continued to stare at the woman, taking in her profile, build, making a mental sketch of her face. For some reason, she interested him…in a strange, ‘I wonder what her story is’ sort of way. Taking a sip of his coffee as the cellphone finally quieted down, he allowed his hand to drop down onto the table, where he played with leftover sugar and bagel crumbs. He was content to wonder, happy to allow his mind to focus on something other than his impending deal, and fine with acting like a weirdo, rather than his normal scary self.

…That is, until his phone went off again. Damn modern technology and their confusing buttons!

[Lindsey]

Tero was a forgiving person, but only to a certain degree. A very low degree.

Now seated at a table adjacent to that of the older man, who she knew now was flat out staring, the loud, crackling, muffled Fall Out Boy song only added to the frustration bubbling under her pretty pale skin. A glare, the type that turns milk bad, seemed good enough, until the phone rang again.

Chairs shifted slightly, the crowds eyes falling on each other, expecting someone else to say something. No one did, for, say for instance the man was deaf? Or mentally challenged? The politically incorrectness was almost too much to process for simple coffee house folk. God forbid someone say something. Most leaned in closer to their some even stood up and left.

"Jeusfuckingchrist. Turn off the fucking cell phone." Pointing a clutched coffee twizzler in a comically threatening manner, the brown haired woman half groaned this. "Honestly, it's not that fucking hard." Her eyes not met his directly before hand, but now were focused on his with surprising attitude, eyebrows arched.

What looked shy and meek before was all but gone.