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.
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.
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.
( 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 )
[ 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. ]
( 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 )
Though she doesn't say that, of course, as she settles them both on the couch, letting Adrienne tuck herself in as she pleases, however suits her.
She might not know what she's doing, but Odessa is a simple creature with simple needs so far as it goes, so it's not complicated for her. Letting Adrienne stay put, she easily navigates around her, arms looping where she is always just that much bigger, to dig into the bag of food. Pulling out the two rolls of food - burrito shaped, even though when she gets them open, it isn't a burrito. One for Adrienne, one of her, and surprisingly - not as absolute garbage trash food as one might suspect. Shaved lamb meat, crambed in with tabuli, onions, tomatoes, olives, cheese, hummus, garlic yoghurt, all tightly wrapped up in turkish flat bread.
Odessa makes a happy groan when she gets hers unwrapped. ]
Now this, this is proper food to have when you're drinking. [ Rather that her hungry, feral grin, or the overly smug one, instead there's a playful, pleased look on her face to share something she liked. ] You'll still be fucking tanked, don't get me wrong, but you throw up way less when you wake up tomorrow.
( adrienne's pleasantly surprised when she unwraps it and finds something that (even drunk) looks really good. with little information, she'd not known what to expect, and had even wrongly assumed what kind of kebab it might be. and it's still a first, not something she'd have picked for herself but assuming now that she's going to enjoy it.
well, once she's modified it slightly. the tomatoes that she can see get tugged out of her kebab but she doesn't poke too hard at it, figuring that if she does eat any she'll be mostly fine, taking a small, testing bite. though honestly, all of her bites will be small to make sure that she actually eats it properly )
I don't always throw up.
( she also doesn't usually get herself quite this drunk or in this much of a state when she does drink. tomorrow's going to be something new )
[ It's filling, to say the least, and in Odessa's opinion (and the opinion of every drunk 18-year-old doing their first pub crawl in the valley on a Friday night), the best-drunk food there to have. ]
Ha! See, now I believe the German bit. Germans know how to drink almost as good as Aussie's do.
[ Odessa is not as neat as Adrienne's polite mouthfuls, but then, she is just bigger overall, munching down into her food in big hearty bites, mercifully keeping her mouth closed as she chews, and swallowing it down quickly. It's not completely net, overall, the oil from the meat mixing with the sauce, but isn't that half the point really, for good drunk food?
Then she's just talking to fill the air. ] It's why I get along with Reinhardt. He's this real big German bloke that fights in Overwatch, since their heyday. Bugger is as big as I am, and just as loud! Fights in the Crusaders, or did. Set of armour like one of em old-fashioned knights. Got a hammer and shield. Him, me and the Russian chick have arm-wrestling contests on the jet to pass the time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
JUNKERQUEEN
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You ain't THAT Swiss Doctor are ya?
Know Soldier 76, Overwatch Strike Commander Sojourn? The SHRIKE?!
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Vegetables are stupid and no one should eat them.
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Listen, are you Mercy from Overwatch or not?
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i'm ordering my own food
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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.
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i'm blonde
i'm swiss-german
i don't like nicknames
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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.
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magic science?
i'm not a military doctor
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it'd be weird to understand sober
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if you want me to know
make sure you're not telling me twice
and i can listen
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Speaking of, knock knock, n shit, delivery is here.
[ bang bang bang, as always. ]
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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 )
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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. ]
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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 )
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Though she doesn't say that, of course, as she settles them both on the couch, letting Adrienne tuck herself in as she pleases, however suits her.
She might not know what she's doing, but Odessa is a simple creature with simple needs so far as it goes, so it's not complicated for her. Letting Adrienne stay put, she easily navigates around her, arms looping where she is always just that much bigger, to dig into the bag of food. Pulling out the two rolls of food - burrito shaped, even though when she gets them open, it isn't a burrito. One for Adrienne, one of her, and surprisingly - not as absolute garbage trash food as one might suspect. Shaved lamb meat, crambed in with tabuli, onions, tomatoes, olives, cheese, hummus, garlic yoghurt, all tightly wrapped up in turkish flat bread.
Odessa makes a happy groan when she gets hers unwrapped. ]
Now this, this is proper food to have when you're drinking. [ Rather that her hungry, feral grin, or the overly smug one, instead there's a playful, pleased look on her face to share something she liked. ] You'll still be fucking tanked, don't get me wrong, but you throw up way less when you wake up tomorrow.
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well, once she's modified it slightly. the tomatoes that she can see get tugged out of her kebab but she doesn't poke too hard at it, figuring that if she does eat any she'll be mostly fine, taking a small, testing bite. though honestly, all of her bites will be small to make sure that she actually eats it properly )
I don't always throw up.
( she also doesn't usually get herself quite this drunk or in this much of a state when she does drink. tomorrow's going to be something new )
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Ha! See, now I believe the German bit. Germans know how to drink almost as good as Aussie's do.
[ Odessa is not as neat as Adrienne's polite mouthfuls, but then, she is just bigger overall, munching down into her food in big hearty bites, mercifully keeping her mouth closed as she chews, and swallowing it down quickly. It's not completely net, overall, the oil from the meat mixing with the sauce, but isn't that half the point really, for good drunk food?
Then she's just talking to fill the air. ] It's why I get along with Reinhardt. He's this real big German bloke that fights in Overwatch, since their heyday. Bugger is as big as I am, and just as loud! Fights in the Crusaders, or did. Set of armour like one of em old-fashioned knights. Got a hammer and shield. Him, me and the Russian chick have arm-wrestling contests on the jet to pass the time.
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