forgivetheinsubordination | IC Contact

Mmhmm. [She'd rather go into detail in person rather than over... in their heads.] No, but I can be. Is right now a good time?

Edited 2014-04-16 21:21 (UTC)

It is, yeah. Could meet somewhere to eat instead if you'd like. And I should, uh, mention.

[He pauses for a moment. One day he'll figure out how to make this not awkward.]

I'm not human. Don't look it at all. Tall, grey, pointy.

I've already been warned about that.

[She has a good-natured laugh to go with that. It's not that she's used to it already, it's just that she knows what to expect. That much helps make things less weird.]

I could use some dinner, so how about Get Stuffed?

Warned. Heh.

[His chuckle is a little tired. Oh well. Better that than someone yelling demon or monster again. The weariness is gone from his voice as he continues.]

Yeah. Get Stuffed works. Say... half an hour?

Works for me. Just look for the woman in the paisley shirt. You can't miss me.

[ooc: Do we do something here or a gen log or handwave it? I'm still a newbie here.]

...What's paisley?

[ooc: I'm up for any of it! It's entirely optional. What would you prefer?]

It's a fabric pattern. Imagine a droplet with the top tip bent over and you have the basic paisley shape. But to make it easier for you...

[She switches to video (boy, does this chip make it easy), giving him a shot of her with her hands working her hair into a ponytail while clad in said paisley shirt, a brown and cream tank top number with black lace trim.]

This is paisley.

[ooc: Logging here is cool!]

Edited 2014-04-16 22:35 (UTC)

Huh. Seen it once or twice, in human clothing stores, but never knew it had a name.

[There's the sound of a door, and then the vague noises of the city streets.]

Then again, never really spent much time talking about clothing. We don't really do that much.

[A beat, and then he speaks quickly.]

Patterns, I mean. Embellishments. Not clothing. We do clothing. You don't have to... I'm not showing up naked or something.

I hope not because this ain't that kind of interview.

[She's laughing again, turning back to audio so she can finish getting ready. A few long moments and there's the sound of her own door closing behind her.]

Can I ask what are "we"? As in what are you, if not human?

Right, sorry. Turian. My people are turian.

[He pauses and turns on video, looking into a store window that she may recognize as not being too far from the restaurant.]

This is how we look, basically. Some variation, but there's variation in every race. Except hanar.

Huh. [It's not a judgmental sound. Actually, it's one of mere curiosity.] Sephiroth was pretty spot on with describing you. And here I thought he was trying to intimidate me again.

What's a hanar?

Before we cover hanar, gonna note that he does that. Tries to intimidate. Don't think just because he said something clearly that he's done trying. But... hanar. Hah.

[Another chuckle, this one actually amused as he turns off the video feed and resumes moving.]

They look like giant pink jellyfish. Obnoxious and arrogant as hell. The way they tell each other apart is some light wavelength that most races can't see naturally. Can't remember which one. Doesn't really matter to me.

Oh, I already called him out on it, so he knows that I can see it coming from a mile away. He'll need to try harder next time.

[She wouldn't be surprised if he did try again.]

I'm learning so much about different species here. Maybe this place is good for something after all.

It has a use or two. Gonna guess you're human? Don't wanna assume, but you look it.

[There's the sound of a door, a murmured question, and Garrus quietly saying 'two' before he resumes his normal volume.]

Getting a table now. And good on you for calling him out.

One hundred percent human. Assume away.

[She walks through the door a minute or two after he's gotten the table. Even with his description and the fact she already knows what he looks like, Angela pauses to glance around the place out of sheer habit. It's not like she can miss him.]

[He spots her easily... or maybe it's more the shirt. Now that he knows what it's called, the pattern is even more eye-catching. Garrus gives a wave. Sure, he's pretty hard to miss, but it doesn't hurt to help.]

[Help's nice. Unnecessary in the end, but nice anyway. Angela quickly makes her way to the table, sliding into the empty seat and immediately begins eyeing Garrus up and down. She's never seen anything like him in her life; it's only appropriate her mouth runs in front of her head at this moment.]

Wow, you're a big boy.

[And she means that in the most honest and loving of ways.]

[Worst. Time. Ever. To be taking a drink from his waterglass. Thankfully Garrus manages to get his napkin up in time as he coughs around the drink, which means none of it gets on her. A moment later he's recovered, but damn, he's never going to get used to humans here. Or maybe not even just humans, maybe it's all people openly hitting on him, being that forward, that he has to get used to.

Garrus shakes his head once he's breathing again.]

Uh. Sorry about that. I'm, uh, yeah. We're a tall people. And you're... very human. With the... hair...

[She blinks at him, not a bit sorry for what she's said. It wasn't insulting and it's certainly nothing he needs to apologize for. It was just an observation. Nothing more, nothing less. Just Angela and her filterless mouth.

There's no guarantee interacting with her will get him used to humans.]

Nothing to be sorry about. [Hair? She glances at his head and then subconsciously tugs on her ponytail.] Uh, yeah, hair. I have that, hair. Lots of it.

[One day he'll be good at meeting someone casually. Professionally, he knew what he was doing. A lunch outing? Not so much. But this is about tech and VR machines, so maybe if Garrus starts heading the conversation that way he'll manage to keep from putting his foot in his mouth.]

It's just longer than I've seen it on a lot of people. Then again, mostly worked with humans in the military. Tended to get in the way. ...Safe to guess you're a civilian?

[She glances down at the hair currently twisted between her fingers and purses her lips.]

I haven't had time to get a haircut. [It's less of an excuse and more of a way to make conversation. Nothing's easier than talking about herself.] I hope that doesn't work against me getting the job.

[She's clearly being facetious about that last part; the grin on her face is pretty obvious.]

Definitely a civilian. I used to be something like a contractor for the government, but definitely a civilian.

[Garrus chuckles, starting to relax.]

Masamune doesn't seem to have any sort of dress code, so I think you're good there. And the VR machines don't have a lot of moving parts, which means you're not likely to get the hair caught in anything.

[Which had to be a worry sometimes. Hair was so... flowy.]

What'd you do for the government? If you don't mind me asking.

I hope it doesn't, considering the impression I got that it's a sex club. Kind of hard to have sex in business gear.

[It's obvious she doesn't have any hesitation about working in a potention sex club. God knows if she brought her resume, Garrus would see Masamune wouldn't be her first weird club she's been employed at.]

I worked in a medical-legal lab doing forensics. Dead things, dead people, skeletons needing to be identified. Whatever we figured out, we forwarded to the FBI as evidence for crime solving.

[Very basic description. Here is no place for her to include the emotional aspects of the job.]

I'm sure if anyone can manage sex in business gear, it would be humans.

[His voice is a little wry as the waiter comes over and Garrus orders a couple of slices of a fairly meat-heavy pizza for himself before looking back at her.]

Don't know which acronym FBI is, but that's a pretty important job. Worked the other side of things for a while, solving the crimes, so I always appreciated the assist.

We humans are pretty creative, if I can toot our own horn.

[She tips her water glass in a mock toast. Her order is a bit simpler--one cheese slice, one ham and pineapple and a cola to tag along for the ride. She's never had a job interview while eating pizza so any attempt to remain professional while stuffing hot bread with greasy cheese into her mouth is long dead.]

Federal Bureau of Investigations. They get called in for the big jobs that the local cops can't handle. Serial killers, mobs, pedophiles, anything that crosses state lines... their fingers are in every pot, so to speak. [Angela leans back into her seat.] Lots of Turian crime?

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