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Post by Deleted on Jun 14, 2019 6:45:59 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rdwne"] [attr="class","rdwnetop"] [attr="class","rdwnetoplyric"] SKIN TO BONE, STEEL TO RUST.[break] +
YOUR DECEPTION, MY DISGUST. [attr="class","rdwnetop1"] [attr="class","rdwnetop2"] [attr="class","rdwnetop3"] [attr="class","rdwnepost"]
Discomfort at best was probably the most accurate way to describe how she felt sitting in the airport terminal during the short layover in Boston. The only thing fatigue-related in colors that she had with her was her duffel bag - wearing civilian clothes otherwise - but it was enough to apparently draw the attention of everyone sitting around her. Did they really think she didn't hear the whispering or notice the constant side-eyes? What the hell was up with this? If they didn't start boarding the plane soon she was going to need to find another place to sit; though avoiding this weird attention seemed inevitable. Even her arm was hidden under a hoodie, hand relaxed in the front pouch out of view. After another five minutes of growing irritation at being the center-piece no one wanted to speak up about, a woman finally stood up and began to approach her from a row down. Regas had the mind to immediately ask her what on earth her problem was but was instead met with something that admittedly took the Lieutenant completely off guard. [break][break]
"Hi, I just wanted to thank you for your service," she smiled and extended a hand out to shake. The right, thankfully. Regas' half-offended expression turned blank, mouth hanging open briefly before her thoughts caught up with her enough to return the handshake. "Oh." Great response. She hadn't thought of the cultural differences of being in your home country; used to the UK for the most part now. Being thanked wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting. "You're welcome," she eventually got out rather uncomfortably. The woman, luckily, realized the Lieutenant's lack of social graces and warmed her smile, silently returning to her seat. Regas' expression was still decently tense and surprised, looking over to a handful that she knew had been occasionally staring at her to now only see grins on their faces after hearing the public thank-you she'd been approached with. They meant well, but she couldn't help but just feel terribly awkward. Maybe it was wrong, but she didn't want thanks. She wanted to go back.[break][break]
The boarding was shortly after and she found a window seat near the back for herself, drawing as little attention as possible, and flew with earbuds in until landing. Not one for fancy places or pomp and circumstance, she'd suggested (or pretty much just told) to meet outside the airport's public terminal in the food court. Alone at a table eating some cheap Chinese food dish with her bag at her side and an open beer in front of her, she did her best to ignore the occasional staring passer-by from either the Air Force affiliation or the metal hand peeking out from her sleeve on the table.
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Jun 22, 2019 2:50:00 GMT
This was not a location Vincent was accustomed to. Axin always flew him out on a luxury private jet (and he had one of his own just in case), he hadn’t the need nor the time for the airport terminals. Plus, it just felt...dirty. It felt poor. Not that he had anything personal against the poor. He did think they could use a bit more ambition - and somewhere in the back of his mind, in some place he wasn’t even aware of, he resented them for being what he feared he could become - but people were people, and they should each be treated with respect and approached as an equal.
Regardless of the location, Vincent dressed his best, in a sharp navy blue tie and a well tailored black jacket, carrying a sleek leather suitcase. He stuck out like a sore thumb, but he carried himself with pride and confidence and dignity, as always, exchanging a warm smile with anyone who looked his way. The smell of cheap food invaded his nostrils and he had to prevent himself from scrunching his nose in disgust. He then berated himself for acting like his mother, but at least he didn’t show his disgust. She would’ve shown it and she would’ve done so proudly. She would make sure everyone knew she was above this, above them all. At least he was more respectful than that.
After a bit of searching, he spotted Lieutenant Regas by a cheap Chinese restaurant eating what he presumed to be food from said restaurant. She was wearing a hoodie and nursing a beer. It was obvious the attention she was getting was making her uncomfortable. It seemed she was doing her best to hide her cybernetic enhancements - as the company had chosen to call them - which wasn’t good for business, but he could empathize with her. Most people weren’t comfortable standing out in a crowd.
”Ah, Lieutenant Regas,” he said as he approached her table, smiling, hand extended, ”there you are. I know I’m not the first to say thank you for your service, but it seems only custom that I do so.” He had much to thank her for. As a metahuman under the purview of the Axin corporation, she was incredibly valuable, more than she knew. Being a living, breathing display of their technology was simply a side benefit. ”Have you encountered any problems with the cybernetic enhancements?” He asked.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 6, 2019 5:24:41 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rdwne"] [attr="class","rdwnetop"] [attr="class","rdwnetoplyric"] SKIN TO BONE, STEEL TO RUST.[break] +
YOUR DECEPTION, MY DISGUST. [attr="class","rdwnetop1"] [attr="class","rdwnetop2"] [attr="class","rdwnetop3"] [attr="class","rdwnepost"]
A good, cold beer solved so many things, made everything easier, calmed the nerves. Too bad this one was crap. Still, it was better than nothing and she didn't have the mental energy to internally complain much about it. She could practically taste the chunks of sodium in the cheap food, but she felt unusually rebellious today and stir-fry with extra vegetables didn't seem like too far out of left field. Another long sip later and she came to the empty bottom of the bottle, causing somewhat of a disappointed look on her face as she set it back down to the table. It was hard for her to decide if she wanted another or not; maybe a different kind, something local with more wheat, more hops. Most beer these days just seemed like weak, dirt-flavored water. [break][break]
"Ah, Lieutenant Regas, there you are," her head lifted and tilted to the side to see the taller, familiar man making his way to the table. "Vince," she greeted casually. Though, it seemed like he'd grown past anything 'casual' judging by his get-up. Sure, he'd always been one of those highly professional workaholic folks, but this was new; especially in a public place like this where he stuck out like a sore thumb in a three-piece suit. There was that 'thank you' again. "Yeah, sure." It was quick, slightly uncomfortable. She still wasn't entirely certain how to feel about it. For all their polite intentions, she felt bitter about the past-tense appreciation's finality. It just served as a further reminder that she was, and would be, done serving.[break][break]
"Have you encountered any problems with the cybernetic enhancements?" She scoffed with a sarcastic grin, slowly rotating the bottle in her metal fingers along the table. "Right to it? Not going to tell me why you look so God-damned important now?" she rose an eyebrow, leaning forward over her food to scoop another bite from her fork into her mouth. While chewing, her head bobbed a little and her shoulders gave a casual shrug. "Adjusting. It's lighter than the first one," she noted positively, flexing the fingers away from and then around the bottle again. "Still too many jolts in the morning," she huffed with a humorless smirk. Plugging it into its socket along her shoulder was always a shock to her system; clenching and cramping muscles around it in her back, chest, and neck. Pain pills were great and all, but it'd be nice not to have to rely on them daily to keep the aches away.[break][break]
It was never comfortable talking about her arm. She hated it as much as she was thankful for it. Somehow, talking about it in a more public setting helped take the pressure off of that alone-in-a-doctor's-office feeling. Vincent, thankfully, had never been one to focus on sympathies. Those just made it worse. She didn't want pity. Instead, they had a mutually beneficial relationship. He got his research, she got her mobility while keeping her pride somewhat in-tact. Where others saw a handicap, he saw an evolutionary opportunity.
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Jul 6, 2019 7:01:35 GMT
Vincent eyed Regas’ cheap beer and food. He had never been one for alcohol. Well, rather, his parents had beaten the everliving fear of mind altering substances into Vincent. They threatened him with severe punishments if they ever suspected he’d ever been anything but sober and warned him of all the negative side effects that went along with a lack of sobriety, quite a few that, as Vincent had gotten older, learned were completely fabricated, such as nerve damage and brain rot, which his mother had described to him in grisly detail, using her status as a neurosurgeon to add weight and precision to her warning. Still, Vincent avoided the stuff like the plague. Same went for cheap and unhealthy food, though his parents’ warnings about such things came more from a class standpoint than a health one (however, Vincent still genuinely valued his health and physique, he had to look presentable, after all). That ‘Vince’ startled him. He hadn’t heard anyone call him that in...well, it seemed like ever. The surprise flashed across his face for a moment before he regained his composure and smiled. ”Leave it to you to call me ‘Vince,’ Lieutenant Regas.” He said amiably, though professionally. He’d forgotten about her bluntness. He was so used to professional and sanitized business meetings, someone being genuine came as somewhat of a surprise to him. He actually appreciated it. He took a seat at the table, unbuttoning his jacket and straightening his tie. Regas’ comment, though somewhat demeaning in tone, actually brought him some joy. He was important now. ”Yes, I’ve advanced quite a bit in the company since we last spoke. I’ve been promoted to executive assistant.” He said with a hint of pride seeping into his voice, though he doubted the title would impress Regas. ”One must look the part.” He added, partially as a jest, but only partially. ”We can fix the jolts.” Vincent said, jumping immediately on her complaint. ”Come into one of the research centers, we can have our specialists take a look.” Vincent did genuinely care about Regas’ comfort, but sending her to a research center would give the company’s scientists an additional opportunity to study a metahuman, and they could use every chance they could get. ”I can have them send a car to pick you up.”He paused for a second, glancing down at Regas’ cybernetic arm hidden by her hoodie before returning to her face. “I hate to say this, but I feel that I must. I can’t help but notice that you seem to be attempting to hide your cybernetic enhancements. I must request that you don’t. It’s not good for the company if they come off as something to be ashamed of, not to mention bad for the morale of fellow amputees.” He smiled warmly at her, softly, amiably, putting aside a bit of the professionalism. ”I understand the will to blend in, I really do, despite appearances. But my priority is to the company, and I have to communicate their wishes.”
Lt. Isabelle Regas |
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Jan 29, 2020 11:45:38 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jan 29, 2020 11:45:38 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rdwne"] [attr="class","rdwnetop"] [attr="class","rdwnetoplyric"] SKIN TO BONE, STEEL TO RUST.[break] +
YOUR DECEPTION, MY DISGUST. [attr="class","rdwnetop1"] [attr="class","rdwnetop2"] [attr="class","rdwnetop3"] [attr="class","rdwnepost"]
Good, he was smiling. So there was some red-blooded humanity left in that platinum-plated face of his. "Yeah, well, I have this habit of calling people by their names," she responded dryly, stabbing down into a few more leaks and cheap bamboo chutes before popping in another large bite as he filled her in on the bits of his newly-acquired and important lifestyle. Sounded rich. Sounded pompous. That fit. "I've never understood that title," she was still chewing her last bit, leaning back in the chair with the elbow of the fork-holding hand resting on the table while her prosthetic rested comfortably in her lap. "/Executive assistant/. Bit of a kick in the teeth, isn't it? Just a word for 'fancy' servant." Top-ranked dive bar, golden toilet, et cetera. Things that didn't necessarily belong in the 'value bragging' category.[break][break]
"We can fix the jolts. Come into one of the research centers, we can have our specialists take a look." Regas swallowed and sighed, lifting the prosthetic hand to rub the fingers into her eyes and along the bridge of her nose with near-perfect agility. Much better than it'd been her first few months, certainly. "You know I hate those people, Vince. Arrogant, pitying, patronizing pricks." She didn't pull any punches with her opinion on the company's doctors. Well, the ones they'd sent her to see so far at least. Had it not been for Vincent, they wouldn't have convinced her to take part in anything. They were lucky to have him. "I can have them send a car to pick you up." "I don't know which hotel I'm staying in yet," she shook her head honestly with a small grunted breath through her nose as she sat back up straight again.[break][break]
Ohhhhh, and then he said it. He just had to say something. She was perfectly still as she listened, fork resting in the black, plastic tray of the mostly emptied stir fry. It wasn't hard to let him finish; she wanted to hear every last little bit of what he thought. It just fed her offense more ammunition. "You know they do partial limb transplants now? Not really successful and I'm not eligible for it past the shoulder-," it began casually, the previous bite that she'd stabbed resuming to its task of lifting to her lips. It was small enough to chew and speak clearly without seeming rude, but obviously casual. "It's crazy stuff, real cutting edge. They could take your arm-," she pointed lazily with the fork across the table to his beneath the fancy jacket, "-right below the elbow, and sew a white man's arm on there. 'Bout the same size, length and all. It'd work just the same. Super evolutionary, a billboard of modern technology and a real milestone in medicine," she finished her bite, swallowing it and hoping to have made her point. If not, this last bit would sure as hell drive it home.[break][break]
"Out of all your fancy suits, accomplishments, and titles you've earned, which do you think's the first someone notices about you when you shake their hand?" Her eyes didn't move a damned muscle and locked directly onto Vincent. "If I want to wear a hoodie sometimes, I'll wear a damn hoodie sometimes."The dead military stare continued - and Lord above could she hold it. Finally, she let the stare down and instead focused on finishing the last bit of stir fry. "You ignore my occasional jacket, because that's what people wear when it's chilly, and I'll let you bring me in this week for some more poking and prodding. Condition: you're coming with." Maybe that way he could keep the assholes at bay. "Deal?" she raised a brow, dropping the plastic fork into the emptied food tray. [break][break]
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Post by Vincent Maxfield on Feb 2, 2020 9:03:43 GMT
Her comment almost made him laugh genuinely. Instead, he let out a few controlled, polite chuckles. “Well, my given name is Vincent, but I suppose Vince is close enough.” He said with amusement. While their relationship was professional (as were, one could argue, all of his relationships), he let this informality slide. It wasn’t as if he were her superior. Not to mention, the setting of this particular meeting didn’t exactly scream formality. Regas’ comment about his job title bothered him. It sounded like something his mother would say, or one of his sisters - though said perhaps a bit more candidly than his family would. He didn’t let this perturbation show, however. He’d learned to wear a mask and wear it well. ”One must climb the ladder, Lieutenant Regas. An employee doesn’t become CEO overnight.” Vincent respected the clearly defined stairway to success, and had climbed it step by step at a quick yet steady pace. Not even thirty and he was just over a step away from running the company. The pompous, competitive part of him that his family had ingrained so deeply couldn’t help but compare his success to Regas. She was four years older than him and what had she done? How much money did she make? He tried to shut that part of himself up, but he couldn’t stop it from nagging at him. He had a much higher salary than her, a much higher status; clearly he was superior. ”Astute alliteration, Lieutenant Regas.” He said with a hint of playfulness. ”But they really are doing their best to assure your comfort and mobility. I apologize if they had an untoward attitude. Give us the names of those you feel are treating you improperly and I assure we will do what we can to mend their behavior. We at Axin only want the best for our clients.” Despite the oppressing banality and corporateness of that last line, he said it sincerely, with gravitas and emotion - though not too much, of course. He’d trained himself, saying it over and over again in the mirror; perfecting it. One could be convinced that Axin truly did only want the best for their clients. ”I can get you a hotel if need be. There’s an excellent five star establishment with a view of the Empire State Building. I assume you’re not one for luxury, Lieutenant Regas, but it doesn’t hurt to indulge every once in a while.” Of course, luxury wasn’t an indulgence for Vincent, but a given, a requirement. Though he did understand that was not the case for everyone. ”That, or you could book your own place and contact me. You do have my information.” He noticed Regas’ expression as he relayed the company’s concerns. He expected her resistance, and listened with interest as she responded. He was somewhat taken aback as she mentioned his race. It was not something that got brought up often in business communications - though the PR team had mentioned how it would look for an African American man to be in power; it would make the company seem progressive. Those types of meetings always made him feel uncomfortable. His parents had taught him to never use his race as a crutch or a tool. He was simply human, like everybody else. Though sometimes he was violently reminded otherwise. He always tried to put those incidents out of mind, but sometimes they came back to haunt him. “I understand your point and appreciate your concerns. But as the saying goes, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m simply expressing the company’s wishes. Do with their message what you will.” It seemed she was going to ignore the company’s wishes, which was unfortunate, but he highly doubted there was any way he could convince her otherwise. Her stare only solidified that notion. It did not intimidate Vincent - he’d endured much harsher stares from his family - but it was certainly impressive, and communicated plenty. She would not budge. Her offer surprised him. It confused him as to why she’d want accompaniment to the specialists at Axin. She seemed a rather independent individual; why would she want him to go with her? Besides, Vincent was a very busy man; he wasn’t sure he would have the time to keep her company. But Regas’ resolve was strong, and she was a highly valued asset. If Vincent needed to put some time aside to go with Regas to the specialists, he supposed he could do so. ”Deal.” He nodded with a courteous smile. Lt. Isabelle Regas |
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