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.
( she mutters a little something in german, though it's not coherent enough for the translator to translate it to english for her.
there are little hums of enjoyment as she does eat every so often, the kebab hitting something that adrienne didn't realise that she'd needed and she doesn't bother looking for more tomatoes even once she's eaten more, just eating the thing )
[ Munch, munch, munch, she goes, stopping every so often to clean sauce up off the back of her hands and off her fingers as they talk. ]
Eh, anywhere. Wherever the fighting is. That's how I went to Rome, but been other places now, South Korea, France, Canada. Nearly froze me fucking tits off there. Not that I see much of the places, beyond the fighting. We get to stop sometimes, after, but not often. Brazil was kinda nice, stuck me toes in the water for a bit and everything.
[Another shrug, she doesn't think much of it, in that sense. Her world is fighting, she lives in a war zone without end, and not much hope. That life is broken up to moments of quiet and then moments of violence, just is, and she doesn't question it. ]
I think you've travelled more than me. And more than I thought.
( because odessa's first impression that she'd given her wouldn't have included travelling, not when she made it seem like she wasn't allowed in to many places )
[ Because the reality of it, is in the middle. She's not welcome, she's there because Overwatch is there. She's there to fight, there to do what she does best.
I could... but there's a lot of the world. A lot of things that kept me from travelling.
( her job kept her busy, her life several years had been busier and whilst adrienne still could travel sometimes being closer to home or going somewhere familiar was nicer )
I like seeing places but I'm... specific? I want to see something or do something.
That sounds like you're fussin' for the sake of it - Ah, fuck, dropped me tomato-
[ Fumbles a second, digging around to get the slice back from the wrapper. ]
Spoiled for choice, that's what dad would say. I see what I seen because that is all I got, I'm not there for the tikki tour and them drinks with little umbrellas in it, I fight, I kill, we win or lose and then we leave for the next fight.
[ She waves the little slice around, small in her long fingers for emphasis, before she tilts her head back and devours it. ]
So gun to ya head. No fussin', no thinking too hard about it, you gotta pick one place that you ain't never been. Where you going? First thing that pops in ya head, that's it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
JUNKERQUEEN
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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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there are little hums of enjoyment as she does eat every so often, the kebab hitting something that adrienne didn't realise that she'd needed and she doesn't bother looking for more tomatoes even once she's eaten more, just eating the thing )
Jet to where?
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Eh, anywhere. Wherever the fighting is. That's how I went to Rome, but been other places now, South Korea, France, Canada. Nearly froze me fucking tits off there. Not that I see much of the places, beyond the fighting. We get to stop sometimes, after, but not often. Brazil was kinda nice, stuck me toes in the water for a bit and everything.
[Another shrug, she doesn't think much of it, in that sense. Her world is fighting, she lives in a war zone without end, and not much hope. That life is broken up to moments of quiet and then moments of violence, just is, and she doesn't question it. ]
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( because odessa's first impression that she'd given her wouldn't have included travelling, not when she made it seem like she wasn't allowed in to many places )
I haven't been to Brazel... or South Korea.
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[ Because the reality of it, is in the middle. She's not welcome, she's there because Overwatch is there. She's there to fight, there to do what she does best.
It seldom includes sight seeing. ]
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( her job kept her busy, her life several years had been busier and whilst adrienne still could travel sometimes being closer to home or going somewhere familiar was nicer )
I like seeing places but I'm... specific? I want to see something or do something.
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[ Fumbles a second, digging around to get the slice back from the wrapper. ]
Spoiled for choice, that's what dad would say. I see what I seen because that is all I got, I'm not there for the tikki tour and them drinks with little umbrellas in it, I fight, I kill, we win or lose and then we leave for the next fight.
[ She waves the little slice around, small in her long fingers for emphasis, before she tilts her head back and devours it. ]
So gun to ya head. No fussin', no thinking too hard about it, you gotta pick one place that you ain't never been. Where you going? First thing that pops in ya head, that's it.
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Alaska. I like hiking and there are a lot of mountains.
( could she hike them? some, maybe, but it'd be nice to see )
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Alaska? That's like, Iceland or something isn't it?
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America. It's near Canada.
( nice and cold just as she likes it )
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What? Yeah but it's the ice bit! That's Iceland ain't it, cause that's where the ice is?
[HER LOGIC IS FLAWLESS. ]
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eventually-- )
No. ( she manages to make it sound like she's not certain even though adrienne absolutely knows where iceland is )
It's near Norway. A country. Iceland. Greenland is icy.
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