uberboned | 005: Little toooown, it's a quiet village....

[Transmission clicks on mid-rant, because he meant to turn the damn thing on, but got distracted by a wayward Cupid. Those little things are pesky. :|]

-little sparkly freak. Annnd the light's blinking. For those of you watching at home, I didn't dropkick Cupid, but I'm about ten seconds from it. You think that would offend the locals? ....I wonder what they do to criminals in this town. I'm not really seeing this as being the hang 'em high kinda place. Unless the nooses are made of licorace or something. Geez. It's like the Valentine's section at a department store exploded. Or we docked in a Disney movie and, by the way? If anyone breaks into song, I'm... No, I'm actually probably gonna laugh and consider the Admiral worthy of my undying respect.

Also, I'm offended at this place's complete disregard for anything other than traditional couples. If this is the love port, you'd think there'd be a lot more orgies. Woodstock was better at free love than this joint and a heckuva lot less cheesy. C'mon.

Anyway. Maxxie, Rubes, Deano, JD, John-Boy, Ringo... Whoever else is out there bored out of their skulls and wandering listlessly around this joint with nothing to do... As soon as I take care of some business in the casino, I'm parking it at the bar and am not moving an inch until we leave. Wild horses covered in pink flowers will not drag me from that place, but hot local girls might.

[OOC: And by "take care of something in the casino," he means "harrass the patrons." A LOT OF GAMBLERS ARE DICKS, OKAY? Feel free to spam, comment, do whatever you want. He has a date with Max and Ruby (not simultaneously), at some point, and a make-out session with Irene, but I'm still all open for plotting if anyone wants it. I am flexible like that.]

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Irene was in love.

Everything was rosy and gorgeous and she was in love and she remembered this, she remembered what it felt like. Walking down the street, she felt as if she were walking on clouds. She hadn't felt this good in a long time, if she was being honest. She had felt like this, she thought, as a girl, but not since then - not this pure and radiant and... God, this town was beautiful.

Irene practically spun into the bar, her color high and a song in her heart. She dropped down onto a bar stool and leaned forward towards the bartender. "I don't suppose, sir, that you have any pancakes back there? I would absolutely adore some pancakes at this particular point in time." And, as this was Kissing Town, and the citizens were keen on encouraging any sort of adoration, whether it be between two people or a girl and a plate of starchy breakfast cakes, the bartender simply grinned and whistled an order back to the kitchen, despite the fact that it was noon.

If the hearts flittering around his head were any indication, Gabe was probably in love too, but that was one of those things he would never admit to anyone and sure as hell wasn't related to this town. Max was simply just that hot.

Still. Not admitting he was in love or not, Gabe very rarely passed up the opportunity to be a flirt- he sort of defaulted to it around women. "Gotta love a girl who adores her inappropriate starches," he noted, drowning the last of his latest bit of Kissing Town poison. As much as he drank at this bar, it was a miracle he hadn't gotten something spiked. Blame it on natural angel metabolism.

Irene blinked at this unexpected comment, then nodded. "Pancakes are divine," she agreed amicably, linking her ankles under the bottom rung of the barstool.

Like Gabe, Irene was perfectly happy to strike up a conversation with any stranger - particularly male strangers, but she wouldn't be too particular in her current state. "What do you think of this place?" she asked. "I take it you're not a local." Her eyes scanned him and his decidedly un-pink attire.

"And I take it you're one of the Bargettes," Gabe said, raising his glass to her in a half-mocking fashion. "And I'm enjoying myself, precious. Probably just as much as you are, unless pancakes are all the action you've gotten this weekend... In which case, I'm definitely enjoying myself more."

"'Action'?" she repeated, puzzling over this turn of phrase. It must be a twenty-first century thing. "You - oh." Suddenly the lights went on, and Irene blushed.

"Well, I haven't had any yet," she said, then continued coyly, with a sideways glance at Gabe, "But you know, there's still another night at port." Her smile, when she smiled, was slow and devilish.

Gabe flailed a hand, completely shameless and unapologetic. "Yeah. That."

It just so happened that he took a drink at the exact time she said that, because he choked. There was something hardcore in the water here. "Oh... If you had just asked me that three hours earlier, I'd be all over it."

Translated here as, If you had asked me that before Max rocked my world to the core, I'd be all over it. Stupid sexy, perfect Max.

"I am, however, not one to leave a lady wanting, sooo..." Leave it to Gabriel to reject a woman's sexual innuendo and then suggest in almost the same breath that he's more than willing to be of other service. That, apparently, wouldn't change with or without Max.

Irene swiveled on her bar stool to face Gabel and hopped down. Her head was tilted slightly in thought. "Someone else, hm?" She smiled. "Well, I suppose that's only right. It is Kissing Town, after all." She moved closer to her companion, step by deliberate step.

"Although I should tell you, it's not just me who'll be wanting," she remarked, placing a hand on Gabe's knee. "You see, I am rather good at making people want me." She had draped her arm over his shoulder and was grazing the nape of his neck in lazy circles with her nails. "Millionaires, princes. Even a king or two." Irene was leaning forward, her breath fluttering against his cheek. "It's a game, and one I play exquisitely well. I'm wicked, you know," she added quietly, and proceeded to do wicked things to his ear.

Gabriel made a strangled noise. "Well, I'm better at making-" And that thought gets cut off by another random noise. Oh dear God, why do these women do this to him? It's not fair.

When he manages to find his voice again, it comes out in half-choked gasps. "Y'know, I don't think your Warden would- oh screw your Warden. I bet you already did. That's probably a compliment."

Irene drew back, regarding his lips and laughing. "I don't have a warden yet," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. With one hand in Gabe's hair, she kissed him so lightly it was almost nonexistent. "I'm sure he'll just be some holier-than-thou jerk who'll try to change me." She kissed him again, this time fully, and pressed her body to his. She broke the kiss, biting Gabe's lip gently, and gave him that coy smile again. "You don't think I need changing, do you?" As she spoke, her hand on Gabe's leg... well, wandered.

Holy Mother of God and all her wacky cousins, that right there? Five kinds of no fair.

"Oh, I dunno," he chuckled. "I can see the appeal of this. Just a little.. A little to the left."

C'mon, Gabe. Resist. Resiiist. Close your eyes and think of Max- BAD IDEA. ABORT. ABORT.

Scotty busted on the scene just as Irene was about to go from a drunken handsy to Oh-God-You'll-Regret-This-In-The-Morning. He waltzed over to the bar with purpose in his stride, directly toward Irene. Scotty didn't know the bloke she was with, and he wondered if she did, either. After his completely traumatizing escapade with one of the poisoned martinis, he sought to protect Irene with every ounce of time he had available.

He put a hand on Irene's shoulder. A steady, firm hand, and began to push her a bit to see if she'd let up off of the other man at the bar. As he did this, he tried to insert himself between them, back to Gabriel.

"Oi, lass, what's say we get you out of this dive, eh?"

"Scotty, I don't require rescuing," Irene said, glowering at the man. Who was he to come in here and ruin her fun? He, who had so cruelly rebuffed her. He was a cad, really, and Irene told him so.

She struggled a bit, trying to evade him, but his herding was successful. Irene pouted. At that moment, the bartender placed a huge, steaming plate of butter-laden pancakes on the bar with a flourish. "B-but my pancakes!"

SAVED BY WAYWARD SCOTS. Gabriel flopped against the bar and cleared his throat, trying to make himself look a little less like someone who was totally asking for Irene to come onto him.

"You should get a leash for that one," he said, coughing slightly. "I mean, really."

HE WAS TOTALLY INNOCENT IN THIS SITUATION- A VICTIM OF HIS LIBIDO AND IRENE'S... SEDUCTIVENESS. SO YEAH.

005: Little toooown, it's a quiet village....

Around noon, Kissing Town bar

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Irene is a skanky ho ;_; I weep for canon.

DAMMIT, WOMAN.

DRAMATIC IRONY. I USE IT.

IT'S THE BEST IRONY.

GET ON MY HORSE, WOMAN. Also, very tired, silly tags ahoy.

Distracted tag is distracted!

SCOTTY, YOU ARE GABE'S LITTLE SCOTTISH SAVIOR.