aterat | I [ Video ]

Who; Betsy + OTA
What; Network Post + continuation of TDM threads, if it's your turn feel free to move it here if you'd like to continue it!
Where;Network and around
When;backdated to 4/19
Warnings;None
I. Network Video

[ As far as new faces go, Betsy's happens to look about as unbothered as anyone possibly could. She's sipping a cup of tea and any glimpses of the room probably make it apparent that she's in her assigned housing. ]

I was given a recommendation by a man named Watts that there was a tailor here of highly praise worthy skill. With how much he talked them up, I have some high expectations. [ She already had high expectations for the quality of clothing. ] He gave me directions to the location, but I'm more used to making appointments for things like that. It seemed more polite to try to make a first contact through this since. Less of a chance for us to waste each other's time. [ And it's definitely not an attempt to fish for information about people here and how well they know each other and get along. Definitely not. ]

Fair warning, I'm particular about what I'm looking for.

II. Watts thread continuation

"I see," she looked over his example that he was showing with scrutiny and then shrugged. "I'll keep them in mind." It seemed more promising than trying to find something premade in this place. Then again she hadn't exactly seen much of this place.

"That makes things easier," she said with a quirk of her lips. At least she hoped it'd make things easier, nothing in his tone or body language gave her any indication he minded mutants. "What can you tell me about the ones you met?" Who else had been here? None of her direct team was here, that had been one of the first things she'd checked for upon arriving here, but that didn't stop her from being curious about who he'd known.

"I did, but I'm not sure how much of that I actually believe." There was absolutely no reason to believe anything they'd been told was the truth. It sounded like some sort of canned speech from people who wanted them to believe something specific. She listened carefully and patiently to his explanation of the first world he'd been in and shook her head. "It sounds like neither of these goals made much sense. At least I always understood my job in other realities, even if I didn't know when I might be able to leave. I appreciate having more concrete goals to work towards."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Space lasers never go well." Whether or not she was joking there or telling a story from experience was left to hang in the air for a moment.

"Depends on whose buying. We did just arrive."

"Yeah, I doubted they did, but they sound awesome." He rolled his shoulder in a shrug.

"What, you think I'm not a gentleman? I asked a lady out for drinks. I'm buyin'." He was probably the furthest thing from a gentleman to arrive in Aterat of late.

"Somehow I'm already not surprised you'd say that," she said with a smirk. Something about his demeanor lead her to think he probably enjoyed lasers and explosions.

"In that case, I'm happy to accept," she gestured for him to lead the way. "If worse comes to worse, I'm sure I could make them forget our tab."

"The Grifter is predictably unpredictable." And he almost sounded like the was quoting something, or someone. He didn't seem too ruffled about the idea either way. It was accurate.

"Why he Hell didn't you lead with that?"

"The Grifter? Is that what they call you?" She let out a tiny chuckle at both of his comments.

"It's not something I advertise to strangers."

"That's what I call me, professionally. I was a mercenary for a awhile. It stuck regardless of who I worked for."

He smiled, though.

"So, we're not strangers anymore, huh?"

"Mine is Psylocke," she offered casually. "You were a mercenary?" she tilted a head to indicate her curiosity. "Retired from the life?" It seemed pretty obvious that wasn't quite the case, but she was curious what he considered his profession.

"I'd say we at least moved up to casual acquaintances."

"More like on and off." He rolled his shoulder in a shrug. "Mostly on, these days." He nodded in appreciation. "Psylocke, huh? Nice ring to it. You sure you're not a mercenary?"

"Assassin," she said with a quirk of her lips that left a question as to whether or not she was being serious. "Though we prefer black ops squad."

"Assassins usually work alone, so Black ops is probably more accurate." He nodded. "Been there. I love cleaning up after other people." If words could drip with sarcasm, his certainly were.

"Someone has to do it," she said with a roll of her shoulders. That didn't change how utterly exhausting it was, especially given the way most felt about killing. Usually it was seen as something completely off limits for X-Men. "I can't deny that it's frustrating, but I volunteered." Did he? His jadedness suggested that it might not have been a choice for him.

"Yeah, I hear that." If that didn't describe his life he didn't know what did. Of course, he had the choice of whether or not to stay. He just...chose to, most of the time, and if he was honest, at least with himself, it was because while the WildCATS were probably the most dysfunctional family in existence, they were his damn it, even if he was the black sheep of that particular family. He was loyal, painfully so sometimes, and he loved those guys, in his own warped way.

"Still, that's rough, when you have to do all the jobs nobody else wants."

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