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futurology2016-06-25 03:36 pm
flashbanging) wrote in futurology2016-06-25 03:36 pm
video; un: mccree
[ The video shows a table in some corner of Oska's kitchen. There's a man at this table, long legs propped up on top of it, reclining against his chair. He's wearing boots with spurs, leather chaps, and a red serape that hangs off of his left shoulder. Body armor covers his chest; the panels inlaid on either side glow faintly blue. He's holding a revolver of significant size with one gloved hand, and with the other, he's carefully polishing oil off of that revolver's barrel. That other hand is bionic, and also covered in faintly glowing panels. The prosthetic runs up the visible length of his arm and disappears into the shroud of the serape.
He grins into the feed from beneath the wide brim of his hat. In his late thirties and handsomely rugged, he's swarthy, with thick, brown hair and dark eyes. His voice is a deep, southern drawl--affable, but with a suggestion of something sharper just beneath. A cigarillo, lit and gently smoking, dangles from the corner of his mouth. ]
Well, now. I'm findin' this place right peaceful. I got to say it's nice to walk around without worryin' over a bounty on my head, so I ain't too sore at these ALASTAIR fellas for pluckin' me out my own place like a ripe peach.
[ He jerks one metal thumb at the table. A few gleaming revolver shells are scattered across the wooden surface, nicely framing a half-finished tumbler of bourbon. ]
Bourbon ain't too bad, neither.
[ He sits up and leans forward, setting the gun down next to the glass; as he does so, there's a glimpse of his belt--strung with more revolver bullets and cinched with a gold buckle. The letters 'B A M F' are clearly engraved on this buckle. ]
'Sides, it's a job like any other. I done escorts before. Granted, they usually been human. Sometimes omnic. Never whatever the hell these things are tryin' to be. But if it's got to get done, it's gonna get done, right? Right.
[ He puffs on the cigarillo, exhaling a long plume of white smoke. ]
Oh, yeah. I had a look see at this here device, flicked through the archive a bit. Noticed some talk about learnin' this or that. I ain't handy with a sword, but if you need a man to show you how to shoot, I'm your huckleberry. I know my way around a fist-fight, too, if it comes to that. Ask and ye shall receive.
[ His smile widens, warms. This is still a hell of an unfamiliar situation, but he's damned and determined to make the best of it. ]
Name's McCree, by the way. Pleased t'meet you.
[ He tips his hat, and that's all, folks. ]
He grins into the feed from beneath the wide brim of his hat. In his late thirties and handsomely rugged, he's swarthy, with thick, brown hair and dark eyes. His voice is a deep, southern drawl--affable, but with a suggestion of something sharper just beneath. A cigarillo, lit and gently smoking, dangles from the corner of his mouth. ]
Well, now. I'm findin' this place right peaceful. I got to say it's nice to walk around without worryin' over a bounty on my head, so I ain't too sore at these ALASTAIR fellas for pluckin' me out my own place like a ripe peach.
[ He jerks one metal thumb at the table. A few gleaming revolver shells are scattered across the wooden surface, nicely framing a half-finished tumbler of bourbon. ]
Bourbon ain't too bad, neither.
[ He sits up and leans forward, setting the gun down next to the glass; as he does so, there's a glimpse of his belt--strung with more revolver bullets and cinched with a gold buckle. The letters 'B A M F' are clearly engraved on this buckle. ]
'Sides, it's a job like any other. I done escorts before. Granted, they usually been human. Sometimes omnic. Never whatever the hell these things are tryin' to be. But if it's got to get done, it's gonna get done, right? Right.
[ He puffs on the cigarillo, exhaling a long plume of white smoke. ]
Oh, yeah. I had a look see at this here device, flicked through the archive a bit. Noticed some talk about learnin' this or that. I ain't handy with a sword, but if you need a man to show you how to shoot, I'm your huckleberry. I know my way around a fist-fight, too, if it comes to that. Ask and ye shall receive.
[ His smile widens, warms. This is still a hell of an unfamiliar situation, but he's damned and determined to make the best of it. ]
Name's McCree, by the way. Pleased t'meet you.
[ He tips his hat, and that's all, folks. ]
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There are people here who are overly friendly. That is dangerous for them. But there are sufficient enough individuals that I can work with.
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[ So damn difficult. He sighs. ]
Lord almighty. You got all the good graces of a porcupine, y'know that? We gotta work with each other, and with all them. It ain't wrong to know your team, and to trust'em.
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You are all welcome to socialize with each other as you would like. I will do my part, and expect that others will do the same, and inform them when they are not. I am a comrade in arms, not more.
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Just make the right one.
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Exercise more caution with who you put your trust into, McCree. That is my suggestion.
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Besides, even if they do, that's fine. He carries a gun. ]
Maybe so. Only the fullness of time is gonna tell it for sure.
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[ He makes a dismissive, 'that'll do' hand gesture. He reaches to click off the jewelry. ]
See you 'round, Hanzo.
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Fine.
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Whaddaya mean?
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Go on, then. Lay out the assessment.
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You are more clever than you present yourself. Ridiculous as your choices in apparel and weapons are, it is more than just confidence.
You are an experienced man. Capable of foolish choices, of course, but I would not describe you as naive.
Regardless. I am your comrade. That is how I would define myself to you. [A friend is too much, ever.]
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McCree is well-accustomed to attention--everything he does (and wears) draws it in, invites it. But he's not used to really being noticed. He rubs his throat, frowning thoughtfully. ]
... hell. I'll take it, comrade.
[ He drawls that last word a little more than necessary. Because while the rest of Hanzo's remarks are more or less accurate, we'll just see about that last one, partner.
WE'LL
JUST
SEE. ]
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Now perhaps we shall say farewell for now?
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[ He tips his hat. ]
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