That news brings the faintest little smirk to Tess's lips. Though she supposes it'd be far better to have a success story and someone to get the rest of the bootleg out, she feels no small amount of pride in Arthur for not falling for some pretty girl in heels.
Tess meets Allison's eyes through the mirror and smiles, shaking her head.
"The security here is pretty good, I'll give them that," she replies. "And he sure is. I once joked that he'd have to tie me to the bed and he didn't even bat an eye. He's solid. Good try, though. You throwing in the towel?"
"Not quite. My room is literally next door to his---I'd be an amateur if I gave up this easily, with a set-up like that. Give me a while to work on him."
Admitting defeat doesn't come easily; this whole thing has certainly put a dent in Allison's pride, but she's reminded herself that here on the Barge, the rules are different. Everything is different. In the real world, locks can be picked or shot through or torn apart, men are notoriously playable, and surveillance is always an option.
She holds Tess's gaze in the mirror.
"So... did I flunk out? Or does my resumé qualify me for another shot?"
Tess grins. For all she knows, this is all Allison’s really got, but it’s worth giving it another go. She followed the rules, after all. That’s promising.
“Take another shot,” Tess replies. “But for every shot you miss, I want another bottle.”
She says that, but in her head she's contemplating exactly how. Incapacitating Arthur in some way would be the most surefire method, but Tess's original specifications including no bodily harm. And honestly... Allison doesn't particularly wish to get her hands dirty just for the sake of a few bottles of moonshine.
"I can't imagine most inmates get on with their wardens as well as you do with him...?" Eyes down, she's putting stolen-from-the-spa lotion on her legs now. "By the way, if you want some of this---" She squeezes another dollop into her palm and then hands the tube over to Tess, "---Feel free. Courtesy of the spa."
Sure, why not. Tess takes it, squeezing out a generous amount.
“Thanks,” she replies. “And it’s hit or miss. Plenty of the pairs don’t get along well, but there are a lot of good ones, too. I’d like to think Arthur and I have an understanding.”
From what she knows of Tess thus far and her very brief encounter with Arthur, she thinks they probably do have an understanding. They seem to make sense together. Tess is no-nonsense in her way, and Arthur likewise in his.
Allison has a sneaking suspicion she won't be so lucky, herself.
"As in... he understands you run an underground booze ring and looks the other way? Or am I completely off-base?" Worth a shot.
“Not entirely,” she replies wryly, but she doesn’t elaborate much. It’s easier to leave it vague, keep Allison on her toes: “I like having a right-hand man, an enforcer. If I’m gonna have a warden, it’s best if he’s the guy I would pick in any other situation. One who knows my business, how I work.”
Taking the lotion back, she applies a liberal amount to each arm, then begins to blend inward toward her collarbone. Her fingers glide over the pinkish scarred spot same as the rest of her skin; she spares it no mercy, even though the surrounding area is still somewhat tender. It was fairly fresh when she died, after all. Maybe it'll stay like that for as long as she's aboard the Barge. She hasn't had the heart to find out.
"Very lucky," Tess replies, and she can acknowledge that. There are some wardens she can tolerate, but she's fairly certain that in anyone else's hands, she'd need nothing short of a choke collar to toe a fucking line for once.
For Arthur, she'll keep it clean.
She watches Allison through the mirror for a second.
"Not that you get to pick but... what kind of warden you in the market for?"
That's all she really cares about. Far as she's concerned, this is just another... assignment, in the grand scheme of things. She'll do her part---mostly---and she needs someone who will do theirs.
"I'd like a right-hand man, too, but I doubt I'll be as fortunate as you. Just someone who doesn't bullshit me, someone who's smart but not too smart." A pause, realizing how ludicrous this all sounds. "...God, that's like the world's worst personal ad."
Tess chuckles. Not a lot of inmates seem to give a shit about getting the job done, and she herself waffles sometimes on her own ability to follow through on something that doesn't come easy.
"Maybe add a line like blonde hair, green eyes, 5'5"," Tess teases. "Seeking tall, chiseled, handsome."
Allison's already got her eye on a tall, chiseled, handsome... but he is not, as far as she can tell, a warden. Doesn't mean he won't be good for something else, though.
"Maybe we could start that up, on the network. Personal ads for those of us interested in fostering a different sort of pairing."
“Turns out on a spaceship full of inmates, there’s no shortage of big grouchy types,” she remarks. “And on the other hand, there aren’t a lot of women here. You and I can basically have our pick.”
"Well, Geralt's the big Game of Thrones looking guy with the long white hair, sometimes sleeps in the common rooms," Tess replies. Who knows, maybe Allison has a thing for fantasy. "He trains in the gym a lot too. Good with a sword."
Not her type, but she smirks nonetheless at good with a sword.
"Kinky," she deadpans, "Though I never could get into Game of Thrones. Now that I've got all the time in the world, maybe I should give it another shot." The library's bound to have at least the book, if not the television adaptation. "And the other guy...?"
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Tess meets Allison's eyes through the mirror and smiles, shaking her head.
"The security here is pretty good, I'll give them that," she replies. "And he sure is. I once joked that he'd have to tie me to the bed and he didn't even bat an eye. He's solid. Good try, though. You throwing in the towel?"
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Admitting defeat doesn't come easily; this whole thing has certainly put a dent in Allison's pride, but she's reminded herself that here on the Barge, the rules are different. Everything is different. In the real world, locks can be picked or shot through or torn apart, men are notoriously playable, and surveillance is always an option.
She holds Tess's gaze in the mirror.
"So... did I flunk out? Or does my resumé qualify me for another shot?"
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“Take another shot,” Tess replies. “But for every shot you miss, I want another bottle.”
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She says that, but in her head she's contemplating exactly how. Incapacitating Arthur in some way would be the most surefire method, but Tess's original specifications including no bodily harm. And honestly... Allison doesn't particularly wish to get her hands dirty just for the sake of a few bottles of moonshine.
"I can't imagine most inmates get on with their wardens as well as you do with him...?" Eyes down, she's putting stolen-from-the-spa lotion on her legs now. "By the way, if you want some of this---" She squeezes another dollop into her palm and then hands the tube over to Tess, "---Feel free. Courtesy of the spa."
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“Thanks,” she replies. “And it’s hit or miss. Plenty of the pairs don’t get along well, but there are a lot of good ones, too. I’d like to think Arthur and I have an understanding.”
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Allison has a sneaking suspicion she won't be so lucky, herself.
"As in... he understands you run an underground booze ring and looks the other way? Or am I completely off-base?" Worth a shot.
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Taking the lotion back, she applies a liberal amount to each arm, then begins to blend inward toward her collarbone. Her fingers glide over the pinkish scarred spot same as the rest of her skin; she spares it no mercy, even though the surrounding area is still somewhat tender. It was fairly fresh when she died, after all. Maybe it'll stay like that for as long as she's aboard the Barge. She hasn't had the heart to find out.
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For Arthur, she'll keep it clean.
She watches Allison through the mirror for a second.
"Not that you get to pick but... what kind of warden you in the market for?"
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That's all she really cares about. Far as she's concerned, this is just another... assignment, in the grand scheme of things. She'll do her part---mostly---and she needs someone who will do theirs.
"I'd like a right-hand man, too, but I doubt I'll be as fortunate as you. Just someone who doesn't bullshit me, someone who's smart but not too smart." A pause, realizing how ludicrous this all sounds. "...God, that's like the world's worst personal ad."
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"Maybe add a line like blonde hair, green eyes, 5'5"," Tess teases. "Seeking tall, chiseled, handsome."
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Allison's already got her eye on a tall, chiseled, handsome... but he is not, as far as she can tell, a warden. Doesn't mean he won't be good for something else, though.
"Maybe we could start that up, on the network. Personal ads for those of us interested in fostering a different sort of pairing."
She's kidding. Mostly.
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The dating pool is hideously small, though.
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"Oh? Do tell."
What better place for gossip than this?
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“Turns out on a spaceship full of inmates, there’s no shortage of big grouchy types,” she remarks. “And on the other hand, there aren’t a lot of women here. You and I can basically have our pick.”
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Not that it's a big or impressive number, but it works. She's got options.
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A grin.
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"Kinky," she deadpans, "Though I never could get into Game of Thrones. Now that I've got all the time in the world, maybe I should give it another shot." The library's bound to have at least the book, if not the television adaptation. "And the other guy...?"
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As for her other guy:
"Butcher's English and uses the word cunt more than anyone else alive. When he's pissed off he gets real worked up. Eats pussy, too."
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Pretty solid emphasis on former, too.
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