ArchivedLogs:Friendly and Enthusiastic

Friendly and Enthusiastic
Dramatis Personae Eric, Regan
In Absentia	2017-05-31 '
Location <BOM> Garden - Ascension Island
Considerably reduced from what they must have been when this place was /actually/ running at full capacity, there is nevertheless a hefty amount of garden space tucked away behind the main cabin of the compound. Somewhat haphazard in its organization, the rows of plants -- mostly vegetables, with some herbs lining the borders -- seem to be chosen somewhat at whim. Despite the disorganized mishmash of crop selection, the ground seems well-tended, fielding the occupants a decent cache of produce three seasons out of the year. To one side, a fenced-in area with a raised coop houses chickens, often noisily squawking throughout the day. Sitting in the garden on Ascension Island, Eric has a long tan gun barrel resting across his lap, pieces of the rifle scattered around in neat little piles on a cloth around him. White headphones hang from his ears, head bobbing along to music playing off of his cell phone as he works, carefully painting a thick brown paste along a large section of the barrel. “Welcome to the jungle,” Eric sings quietly, stretching one leg out in front of him. The police officer is dressed simply, a pair of blue jeans and a solid black t-shirt. A baseball cap -- Yankees -- is pulled down over his forehead, protecting his face from the afternoon sun and casting a shadow over his work. “You gotta close your eyes and see…” The door to the lodge swings open, creaking shut again slowly. Regan has a tall glass Coke bottle in hand, condensation beaded on its side -- it complements her overall summery look. Denim capris, wedge sandals, a red halter blouse. A smile tugs up at her lips at Eric's singing. "It's not so bad as all that here, is it? Ion hasn't set anything on fire in three days at least." Eric looks up as he sees someone approaching, and a warm smile spreads on his face as his eyes land on Regan. Reaching out and tapping his phone twice, Eric pulls the earphones out of his head and lets them fall down onto the cloth next to him. “Heya, boss. Three whole days, huh? Must be some kinda record; he’s gotta be real proud.” Eric’s lips spread a little bit wider, a teasing smirk splayed on his face. “What’d ya do to get that result? Tie him ta’ the lightning rod?” "A bit redundant." Regan steps down off the back stairs, skirting along the edge of a garden bed to head closer to Eric. "Egg has kept his plate more than full lately. I don't doubt your department keeps you busy, but do you have room on yours the next little while?" “You know I always got time for you, boss.” Eric says, a blue-ribbon smile affixed to his face. He pats the barrel of the gun he's working on. “Got this in a seizure off’a mid level drug dealer. Once I finish takin’ the serials off, might be useful for us. Competition grade sniper rifle.” He strokes the barrel twice, as if petting a particularly vicious pet. “What can I do you for?” "Mmm." An approving sort of hum, as Regan's eyes flick over the piece. "Leave it with Natalie, she's handling that inventory for the moment. We'll get good use from it, I think." She lifts her bottle, pulls a swallow from her soda. "We've had some visitors stopping through, lately. Pietro and Wanda. The children of our erstwhile leader. They're quite --" There's a very small beat of hesitation before she continues, "enthusiastic about getting involved. Many ideas about the directions we should be going." She tips the neck of her bottle toward Eric. "They could use someone friendly to show them around a little, I think. Make them welcome." Eric pauses for a moment, tilting his head to one side and studying Regan. One part of his cheek bends inwards for a moment as he considers this, chewing on the inside of his mouth. “Mm. I can do that, as long as you think they ain’t gonna blow my cover. I’m always a bit suspicious of anyone who’s too excited ‘bout gettin’ involved, Magneto’s kids or not.” He shrugs his shoulders and spreads his hands out. “I’m certainly friendly enough, though. Happy ta’ do it. You know when they’re next around?” "I think that's unlikely. They've made it to adulthood without the government coming after them, by now they've learned some modicum of discretion." Regan's smile is a quicksilver thing, flashing there and gone in a heartbeat. "Friendly, yes. You are that. Make friends with them, then. I'm curious to know just where they intend to take all the energy they bring. I believe they plan to return to town next week. I'll let you know. You can introduce yourself." “Definitely.” Eric says, glancing over at his phone and then looking skyward for a moment. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I think I can shuffle ‘round some a the shifts if I need to.” Eric glances over Regan’s face, curiously, leaning back onto two hands. “How’s things been? It’s been pretty quiet city-side recently. Not that I’m complainin’. Things been good for you?” "We've been -- busy." Regan's bloodred nails tap lightly against the side of her bottle. "Distribution on the newest model of Sentinels is nearly ready. Perhaps things in the city won't be all that quiet much longer." “Motherfuckers.” Eric says, though without much heat. “Well, we knew it was only a matter’a time. You let me know if there’s anythin’ me or mine can do, yeah? I’m sure we’ll be involved when they’re gettin’ rolled out. I’ll keep my ear to the ground.” Picking up a small bottle, Eric carefully unscrews it and withdraws the small brush, painting the sharp, foul-smelling liquid on a small patch of the gun barrel. It sizzles slightly with a soft, metallic sound of complaint. "I've had a look at the schematics for the newly militarized models." Regan's tone is neutral enough. She pulls down the last of her soda, lowers her hand to her side. "I have a feeling you'll hear about clear enough. Stay safe out there, Eric." The look on her face saying this to him is just the slightest bit wry. “That bad, huh?” Eric chuckles and tilts his head from side to side, cracking out his neck. “Stayin’ safe ain’t been a skill a’ mine, historically.” He crinkles his nose up, then he winks at Regan. “Gettin’ back up again, though. That’s a speciality.”