16605/The Handoff

The Handoff
Date of Scene:	17 December 2023
Location:	Vacant Lot -- Queens
Synopsis:	Following a long con at a night club, Inez makes a drop off with Creed who sub-contracted her for a gig.
Cast of Characters:	Inez Temple, Victor Creed

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Inez Temple has posed:
It's been a couple of hours since the brouhaha at the club in the Flatiron district... Inez made her escape as agreed upon in the terms of the contract she agreed to with Victor Creed, no one the wiser. Wouldn't do to piss off Cable or someone else in the X-Men when she's nominally one of them.

But the payday was right, she had nothing else planned, and... to be honest, it sounded *fun*. Besides, the client that sub-contracted her isn't exactly someone you say no to lightly.

She stands in the vacant lot that was the agreed upon meeting spot, hat shielding her face as she takes a drag from a lit cigarette like some sort of stripper version of the Marlboro man, although she's added a leather duster and her guns, with a squirming fanny pack slung over one shoulder.

Victor Creed has posed:
It took a bit longer for Victor to extricate himself from the brouhaha, and the wounds he sustained were a bit longer to heal. Not that much slowed him down, but there was at least a few moments where he waited for his insides to go back in before he continued along to the rendezvous spot. Enough so that Inez easily beats him there.

His shoes crunch on the gravel in the darkness as he makes his way over towards where she waits, sniffing at the air on reflex to insure that there is nothing other than Inez and space monkey nearby. Not that he doesn't trust Inez, but...

He doesn't trust Inez.

"It's almost criminal how easy it is to trick those assholes."

Inez Temple has posed:
To be fair, part of why Inez suggested the spot was that it was a wide open area where neither side could stage any kind of ambush. Too open. Too residential, even, where all but the most gutted of people would hesitate to raise hell.

Inez nods to Creed, taking one last puff on the cigarette before stowing it away... because it's 2023 and she prefer vaping. It gets the point across, even if the aesthetic doesn't quite fit. She looks unharmed after the claws and wrestle, and she shrugs the shoulder with the space critter in it at his comment.

"T' be fair, weren't exactly t' A team there." Inez points out reasonably, flicking her hat back with one lazy knuckle as she regards the big man, frowning at him. Does she mention the groping of a drugged woman? Does she apologize for the rough treatment?

Instead of doing either, she does neither but just cocks her head at him. "Don't want no trouble. Job's done, an' any bonus work off t' books... well." She lifts her eyebrows, with a bit of a smirk. "Reckon y' got big pockets, an' we can come to an arrangement, yeah?"

Victor Creed has posed:
"Gotta admire the stones on the kid, but he was thinking with the wrong head if he wanted to try to throw down with me over that girl." Victor shrugs a bit as he continues his approach. Slow, and relaxed. "Wasn't expecting her to hide the damn thing in her shirt, but kids these days, you know, do anything for a thrill."

He leans a bit to the side as if to get a better view of the satchel containing their prize. "I don't want no trouble either. You're clearly a scrapper, and I respect the way you do things. No reason we can't be friends." He flashes a grin. "Can always use some help on a job, here or there."

His eyebrow arches. "What kind of arrangement you thinking?"

Inez Temple has posed:
The advantage of a healing factor; Inez is pushing thirty but still looks as fresh as the day she hitched a ride out of Texas and straight to Taskmaster's academy. "Seen weirder. Remember when they had t' lock up t' laundry pods 'coz of twitter?"

She rolls the shoulder with the satchel again, and as she approaches Creed she lets her coat fall open, revealing the mare's leg strapped to her leg as a friendly little reminder to be a gentleman. He can smell the faint, acrid bite of magnesium of dragon's breath rounds... Just in case the spurs she's still wearing and just how *strong* she was when they wrestled earlier doesn't give him pause.

Her expression, though, is friendly enough... and there's a dimple when she flashes a crooked grin at his last words that is definitely more deadly. "Ah, reckon we could celebrate t' payday." She tells him with a broadening of that grin. "Don't rightly know that booze would do either o' us in, but fun t' pretend, yeah?"

Victor Creed has posed:
There is definitely a moment where it looks like Victor is calculating exactly that. His eyes move over her form, past the weapon, but then back to her. Whether is considering the odds of being successfulyl ungentlemanly or just appraising her physique in appreciation, that glance is lingering but then ends as he looks up to meet her gaze.

"Yeah, I'd like that. You look like someone fun to drink with." He glances once more at the satchel, but then casts all of his attention back onto Inez. "Just someone fun in general, if I'm being honest."

Inez Temple has posed:
"Eyes up here, big guy."

It's said firmly, but with amusement at Victor's wandering gaze as he looks her over. She smirks as if she's following the path of his thoughts... either way. And can respect both.

"I live a blessed life." She tells him, doffing the hat from her head with one hand and holding it to her chest as if in benediction. "Y' only got one life, yeah? Why not take a nibble outta all t' experiences y' can, eh?" And she shoves the hat back on, and finally offers the satchel. "Y' look like a whiskey guy." She adds, hip cocked as she settles her weight back, and hand on hip. Incidentally, near where the mare's leg is strapped. As charming as he's being, he's still infamous in their circles and she did lay into him pretty hard. Did he notice her goosing him during their little wrestle? Surely he doesn't mind a little grab-ass on an assignment..

Victor Creed has posed:
"Can you blame me?" asks Victor, his eyes in fact following her instruction, and moving to meet hers. "I mean, come on!" he says, waving his hand to indicate her prodigious chest.

"That's what I always say. Take a bit out of whatever, whoever you can, to enjoy what's out there." That's not exactly what she said, but Victor has his own way about things. "If you've got some whiskey, I'd happily join you. If we split a bottle, can probably get us drunk for aboout a minute or two." His gaze drifts down to her chest again now that the hat is no longer obscuring it. "Might be long enough..."

If he noticed, he certainly did not object. What's a little molestation between co-workers?

Inez Temple has posed:
According to some people, and in some necks of the woods, it's practically a requirement... Look at the X-Men with their incestuously close relationships or, god help us all, the Teen Titans. "Reckon there's a couple of options then. Sister Margaret's ain't too far, but if y' don't mind a bit o' a de-tour, got a trailer out in t' woods."

She smirks, and looks down. "Push-up bra." She tells him with a chuckle, "Once managed t' infiltrate a Russian gulag to bust someone out w' t' right bra an' thin enough shirt." And she lifts her fingers to shoot him some finger-guns, just for effect.

She cocks her head at him. "Why don't y' drop t' rat off w' t' client, an' we can reconvene at m' place. Due t' move in t' next couple o' days, so don't mind givin' y' t' address, Vicky."

Victor Creed has posed:
"Trailer in the woods definitely speaks my name," says Victor with a grin. "More my style, and less faces that way."

His gaze goes right back down and he shakes his head. "No fucking way that a bra is doing that much work." He laughs at the tale. "Yeah, I can believe that, actually. Right outfit seals the deal, for sure."

He nods to her proposal, reaching out to offer to take the satchel. "Sounds good. You tell me when and where, and you better believe I'll be there with bells on." He snickers. "Or nothing on, you never know."

Inez Temple has posed:
And the hand-off is complete!

Inez relaxes slightly. From here, it's the usual sort of backstabbing and double-dealings... The merchandise is handed over willingly and if he doesn't pay up her conscious is clear.

Her laugh makes the aforementioned anatomy shift and move, before she smirks. "Right bra, an' the right attitude, a woman could take over t' world." She tells him, even as she adjusts her hat back into position. "Ain't no different than a beard on a guy, fuzzy. We flood our basement f' a bit o' peach fuzz."

The handover complete, she grins and tips her hat. "Got a case o' Jack with our names on it, Sabretooth. Maybe some s'mores." She licks her hips, and then laughs, walking past him towards the jeep nearby.

Victor Creed has posed:
Indeed, the hand-off is complete, even if the business is not. Or is this the shift from business to pleasure?

His eyes follow the movements of her assets as she laughs again, clearly ignoring her prior instructions. "Yeah, well. We'll see. I can't imagine any beard on any guy doing what those things do."

He nods as she heads to the jeep. "Don't be starting without me," he calls after her, as he gives the satchel a bit of a shake. "I'll be there before you know it."