Steam and Steel Options

[Rohirrim]

Jonah stepped into the morning sun from the darkness of the tailor shop. He carefully situated his goggles on his face, hitched up the rifle strap on his shoulder, and went to find some lunch. This was the slaughterhouse district, so a broiled beefsteak or kidney and some drink wouldn't be too hard to find. Spotting the double doors of a saloon, he stepped in and grabbed a seat at the bar. He held up his flask and dropped a penny on the bar. "Refill, please. Whiskey." The bartender silently obliged him, and Jonah took a swig. He winced. Rye, always rye, he thought, what I wouldn't do for some good old bourbon. He let the whiskey coat his mouth then put down a nickel. "Two kidney chops, my good man." The barkeep went into the kitchen to place Jonah's order. Satisfied it was being taken care of, Jonah looked around. The synth-piano played a gay tune, and some women of questionable virtue, as well as several other patrons, were around. He hiked up his bowler hat, letting his bangs fall down, and removed his goggles, putting them on his forehead. He cast a glance at the bounty board hanging at the end of the bar. Maybe, he thought, maybe.

This post has been edited by Rohirrim: Oct 26 2013, 05:33 PM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Betty smiled a little wider at him when he kissed her hand gently.

He'll be in for a surprise later when he sees how many tattoos I have. She thought to herself, amused. Though she was mutant and cybernetic-free, she did not have virgin skin. Light green wines twined up her stomach from her nethers, twisting around her navel and cradling her breasts. Colorful pictures on her arms of fish, even a small oasis in the desert, were etched on her arms. They were covered by her long sleeves, though. Most were less surprised by these, and more impressed with the detailed cybernetic bat winks on her shoulderblades, extending to jut above her buttocks. A poem, the words the leaves of a willow tree, graced her left thigh in brown and green ink.

By no means was she, in any way, virginal. And she intended to make that clear.

"Algy," she purred, drawling out his name gently, pronouncing it the way he had, with a twang. "I haven't heard a name like that except from someone who was from nobility. Tell me, Algy," Her voice was smooth as silk as she said his name. "What's a cultured gentleman like yourself doing in Dodge?" She lightly traced the rim of her glass with pale, delicate-looking fingers. She allowed her gaze to linger on his trousers for a second before looking back up to his face. She wanted to close this deal soon. She had errands to run.