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[dezza]

« CALLING: « JUNKERQUEEN

... «

❝ G'DAY. BUSY. WHAT YA WANT? ❞ «

...

Comments

[pathologise]

🖕🏻
i'm swiss

[dezza]

.........


the fuck? You're fucking joking right?

[pathologise]

i was raised in america
my mom's swiss
i'm swiss

[dezza]

I gotta fucking ask, or I'm going to kick myself.

You ain't THAT Swiss Doctor are ya?


Know Soldier 76, Overwatch Strike Commander Sojourn? The SHRIKE?!

[pathologise]

???????????

[dezza]

IS UR NAME SECRETLY ANGELA?!

[pathologise]

what

[dezza]

... If I ask you what Overwatch is... ?

[pathologise]

i thought i was getting food?

[dezza]

Wait I need a better test, to prove ur not her.


Vegetables are stupid and no one should eat them.

[pathologise]

depends if they'll kill me

[dezza]

.... wait ok that doesn't work, she COULD say that.

Listen, are you Mercy from Overwatch or not?

[pathologise]

i don't know what the fuck any of this is
i'm ordering my own food

[dezza]

Calm down I'm still bringing the food.

Listen, there's a doctor back in, uh, my world?

Call sign is Mercy, in the war.
Was in the Overwatch TV show.
Blonde, great tits. Done with most people's shit.
Fucking SWISS-GERMAN
but spends a lot of time with Seppo buggers.

[pathologise]

i understood two of those things
i'm blonde
i'm swiss-german
i don't like nicknames

[dezza]

Not nicknames. Call signs. Stuff they call each other in the Army.

Mercy was a military doctor, in the war. She invented this shit... don't ask me how it works. Anyway, it brings people back from fatal injuries. Like raising the dead. Or it is raising the dead, I think, if you only been dead for a few minutes. People in cities fight about whether ya meant to be able to do that. But fuck me, I wish we had it in the Wasteland and Junkertown.

[pathologise]

sounds magic
magic science?
i'm not a military doctor

[dezza]

Dunno, she says it's just tech, real good tech. But guess that's why she's the genius, aye? Then again, me best mate is a Hamster in a Mech Bot that broke out of a moonbase, so figure it's all a bit hazy, these days. Someone smarter than me can figure it out, one day, I'm sure.

[pathologise]

i'm probably gonna forget most of what you told me
it'd be weird to understand sober

[dezza]

But I ain't even got the cyborg ninja, the jesus robot or the gorilla with the lightning gun yet?!

[pathologise]

pass
if you want me to know
make sure you're not telling me twice
and i can listen

[dezza]

yeah yeah, i'll tell ya while ya eating.

Speaking of, knock knock, n shit, delivery is here.

[ bang bang bang, as always. ]

[pathologise]

( adrienne's a little slower to open the door, needing to mentally prepare herself to having to be around someone, but eventually she does.

her hair is messy, the kind where she might not have done more than just ran her fingers through it that day, looser waves, and she's dressed in pyjama shorts that are just visible under the over-large jumper that she's wearing )

What did you bring?

( she's speaking slower, very drunk, a brain finding both words and english harder, and a look that doesn't quite meet odessa's )

[dezza]

[ She squints down at her, for a second, the messiness of it all, and - yeah, yeah she's been there. More times than it bears counting or mentioning, frankly.

So she does what is the only reasonable thing, really, she holds up the bag of food (something hot and warm, from the smell), then steps forward and scoops Adrienne up. Arms under her legs, the other around her back, hefting her easily into her chest as she walks into the apartment she was getting to know the layout of, pretty well, kicking the door shut behind her. ]

Food of drunk legends is what. Kebabs.

[ Rambles it out, easily, as she walks them into her lounge room, towards the couch. ]

[pathologise]

( there's a small sound of protest as odessa scoops her up but nothing more, adrienne both knowing that she wouldn't win against her efforts even sober and that being in her arms is comfortable. experience has told her that one.

so really, the only sensible choice is to settle into her, resting her head by her shoulder, curling slightly in a way that makes her seem even smaller to the larger woman )

As long as it doesn't make me ill.

( it's mildly muttered and whilst odessa had promised it'd make her feel better adrienne's stomach doesn't like food sober all the time. but maybe she's too drunk to think too hard about what she should and shouldn't eat and tomorrow is for consequences.

rather than curling into the couch when odessa sets her down, she crosses her legs, now properly looking up at her but not certain what to do or say )