"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...?"
After giving her hair a final comb-through, Allison ducks around the corner to get changed. She would not be caught dead meandering from the showers to her cabin wrapped in a towel.
"This has been enlightening," she calls from one of the changing rooms, "Maybe we should make it a weekly thing. Shower Chat, Wednesdays, 9pm."
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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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"Yeah? You don't mind having my seconds?"
As if she's going to stop fucking Billy any time soon, anyway, but they'll see.
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"Desperate times, desperate measures. We can't be too picky around here, can we?"
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"Yeah, what do you think my answer to that is?"
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Teasing.
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After giving her hair a final comb-through, Allison ducks around the corner to get changed. She would not be caught dead meandering from the showers to her cabin wrapped in a towel.
"This has been enlightening," she calls from one of the changing rooms, "Maybe we should make it a weekly thing. Shower Chat, Wednesdays, 9pm."