9593/Reputations

Reputations
Date of Scene:	15 October 2019
Location:	Burnout Pub, Garnet (Knowhere)
Synopsis:	<text>
Cast of Characters:	Gamora, Lobo

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Gamora has posed:
To say that Port Knowhere isn't the nicest place in the galaxy is a gross understatement, and the Burnout Pub isn't even in the best neighborhood for Knowhere. What it lacks in atmosphere it makes up for in clientele, however. Assuming, of course, that one is looking for beings who are dangerous or illegal (or both).

Once such being lingers near the gaming table. Gamora's green skin and serious demeanor make her a dead giveaway, nevermind the numerous bounties on the woman's head. She watches impassively, holding the same drink in her light fingers for nearly two hours now. She is waiting for someone, most likely. An assassin with Gamora's reputation quite simply does not just 'hang out' in a place like this without a reason.

Lobo has posed:
    In walks a giant ivory-skinned, perfect example of 'bad news'. Right now his black hair was unkempt, somewhat braided in places and just hanging down loosely in others, clearly the big man was between looks as it was loosely tied backward behind him, but done messily to allow a few strands to hang in front of his face, while around his head a faded red bandanna was tied. The rest of him was dressed just as shabbily, in torn and frayed dull grey jeans and some old band shirt, it looked like an outfit one might throw on simply to not be nude. Given how tenacious his fights and scraps sometimes became, it was definitely possible that he had to do precisely that some time ago.

    And as he walked, scatterblaster being held loosely in his left hand, his infamous hook and chain wrapped around that forearm, he spotted and instantly sat down, right at Gamora's booth. Instantly he kicked up one booted foot, resting it across the table and leaning backwards in his chair in a really 'cool' fashion, as he nodded at her and made a sound in his throat that sounded like something between a haggard yawn and a lion's snarl.

    "Well I ain't seen you in a doggomarian's age. Yo, barkeep, get yer sorry hide over here and serve yer loyal fraggin' customers, already! Been here two seconds an' I already wanna stomp this giant head we're on inta paste!"

    When Lobo yelled, people listened. It seemed that they were going to get service right away...whether Gamora had just been served or not.

Gamora has posed:
    Gamora's gaze flickers over to the door whenever it opens, so she doesn't miss Lobo's entrance. Like that would even be possible! Continuing to watch him with that impassive gaze, even when he just helps himself to a seat, the green woman doesn't do anything until he settles and gets comfortable. Yes, right here is one of the few people who might have a chance at collecting a bounty on her. And he might even be stupid enough to try.

    Once Lobo bellows for service and gets the place stirred up, Gamora reaches for the hilt of Godslayer to loosen it in the scabbard. It's a show, really, and quite an effective one at that. A safety zone immediately clears around the table.

    "I'm fine, thank you." she offers to whichever waitress nearly kills herself getting to the table. And while Lobo -may- be here for a bounty, Gamora trusts her instincts that he's not. At least not at the moment. The pale-skinned biker was never really known for his sanity and predictability.

Lobo has posed:
    Gamora makes a show of putting her hand on her weapon, and Lobo sees it immediately. His eyes narrow and a grin creeps up on his face, even under that aggressive facial hair he was rocking. His gleaming yellow incisors visible even as those red eyes studied her closely.

    "Careful, sweetheart. In some parts'a the galaxy, that could be seen azza form'a flirtin'."

    As he continued to lean back, he crossed his legs lazily as he ordered the first of many cold, cheap brews. As he slammed back half of a bottle, he gave a loud belch and started speaking, as he did, using his sawed-off blaster as a pointing instrument every so often. It's a good thing he had controlled finger discipline, right?

    Right?

    "Yanno, I always did like the whole, "these boots were made fer walkin' on yer face an' other various bits" kinda aura ya put out, lotsa mystique an' it makes all the rich Clydes with bounties all kindsa impressed. But I gotta say, always figured one'a Thanos' kids woulda relished that kinda rep a little more than ya do."

Gamora has posed:
    Gamora's hand lingers near the legendary weapon, lashes lowering and dark lips pulling into a small smile. Her hand doesn't withdraw, at least not right away, fingers tapping the hilt lightly.

    "Well I wouldn't want to give you the wrong idea." she replies. And only then does she rest her hand back upon the table. As he continues, she actually takes a sip of her drink... likely the first... and listen to him.

    "And here I've always found that the best way to enhance one's reputation is to cut someone in half every now and then. It's also a pretty good bounty-hunter deterrent." She tilts her head to look him over more closely, then.

    "So how do you do it? Fend off every would-be shooter who wants your..." She squints to take a closer look, then wrinkles her nose as she regrets it. "... scalp."

Lobo has posed:
    "Ha, got a few a'those taken, a few thumbs, a few toes, it's dawg eat dawg out there, especially when I was all bright eyed an' bushy tailed with nobody knowin' my name."

    Twirling the sawed-off, he looked upward as he chugged the rest of his first bottle of booze until it was empty, and then it was tossed aside with a brittle shattering sound. The Main Man didn't look to see where it went, and didn't seem to care.

    "See me, I just built my rep slow an' steady, a few decades to rack up a bodycount that'd make Mongul jealous. Just imagine how many esophaguses I had ta put my fist down before folks started gettin' the message...esophagi? esophagixen? Bahh!"

    Another bottle, another swig.

    "Whozza last guy who wanted a piece'a you, anyway? An' how many pieces ya dice HIM inta?"

    The expression on his face, indicated that the idea was especially appealing to him.

Gamora has posed:
    Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? Lobo? Gamora's hint of a smile becomes more genuine at that. "Esophaguses. You had it right the first time." she offers lightly, taking another sip of her drink. While Lobo is discarding bottles Gamora lifts her glass and gives the passing waitress a knowing nod.

    "The last idiot who tried to kill me? I stopped keeping track of such things a long time ago." Of course another big part of Gamora's reputation comes from her adopted 'father'. But anyone who knows ANYTHING about her knows that Thanos isn't a good topic of conversation with her.

    "So why are you here, Lobo? You're not here for me, and the food isn't toxic enough for you."

Lobo has posed:
    While Gamora is speaking, Lobo is paying attention. But at the same time, the ghost-skinned killer seemed to shift in his body language, sitting up a bit straighter and tensing for a moment, before relaxing again. Idly his right hand seemed to fish down toward his belt where he usually kept his cigars, and upon finding nothing, just stayed there as he stuck his thumb through one of the belt loops.

    "Why am I here? It's funny ya should ask that, the answer is"

    While speaking, he'd been twirling that 'boomstick' of his more and more recklessly, almost as if idle boredom was infecting his brain. But now, suddenly in the middle of his sentence, he flipped it one last time to perch it across his shoulder...and squeezing both triggers to blast directly behind himself. Two bright breen arcs of energy-propulsed slugs traveled through the air, exploding into the back of a yellow-skinned creature in a sleazy pinstriped suit, some creature with an impossibly wide yellow mouth, who it seemed had been slowly trying to sneak away all this time. Looking down at the two holes in his chest, the creature was slack-jawed in horror, and as it fell to the floor, a collection of plastic bottles fell out of its suit pockets. Bottles that looked to be full of pills.

    "The answer is right behind us. This pizza-faced idiot's been givin' me the slip an' evading capture fer the better part of eight weeks, but it looks like the ghosts of his past have finally caught up with him. An' the Main Man bags another one!"

    He declared proudly, blowing the smoke out of the barrels of his weapon before giving it another twirl just for good measure.

Gamora has posed:
    Gamora is one of the few people in the bar who doesn't either jump or dive for cover when the big-barreled cannon goes off. She leans out a bit to take a better look before replying. "You should leave good tip. That's a lot of entrails." she comments.

    Shifting her attention back to Lobo, Gamora adds. "I'm a bit surprised he waited to make a run for it. Idiot should've known better, really. Unless maybe he was hoping you and I would... distract... each other."

Lobo has posed:
    Lobo didn't move from his position at first, instead just grabbing a few plastic credsticks from a pocket and tossing them across the table. Then and only then did he push off, falling backward with his chair already unbalanced, this was all just a dramatic way to roll to his feet and grab the wrist of his now dead bounty all at the same time.

    "Yeah, when the Main Man's around, some geeks try the ol' "freeze an' blend into the wallpaper" routine. As if that crap's gonna fly with a real cool bastiche like me!"

    He started to turn and drag his prize out with him to where his bike was, but before he did, he turned around to spare the green woman a glance.

    "Things are movin' and shakin' out there in the vacuum. You ever wanna drop that Star Dweeb an' pick up a real quality smart an' humble guy fer some REAL bounty huntin', drop me a line."

    And with that, he was gone.