Theme toggleSCENE LISTING SCENE SCHEDULE Scene Schedule RSS Feed
Owner Pose
Cormano Stale cigar smoke hangs low in the air, Patrons of the saloon begin filing in as the night passes. Around what can be assumed to be eleven pm Cormano enters the lounge, his right sleeve rolled up and a makeshift bandage applied to a wound in his leathery hide. He saunters up to the bar and orders a glass of milk from the robot bartender, "Ay there Friend, howzabout a milk? Can I git a straw too?" He takes a seat at the bar as the Robot sets to work. Cormano retrieves a hand rolled cigar from his pack and lights it with a wooden match. Glancing around the lounge he spots Cassandra and gives her a polite nod, the ruins of his face turned up into what could be assumed to be a polite smile. After this he retrieves his drink from the waiting metal claws of the bartender.
Cassandra As the night passes and more people begin wandering in, Cassandra pushes through the doors and heads towards a seat. Sliding into it with a tired slump she settles down, slouching over and setting her massive Barrett rifle to lean against the wall near her. She crosses her arms under that oversized pnuematic chest and looks around the bar for a moment waiting for a waitress or waiter to come over. She feels your eyes upon her, turning in the direction of your nod and raising her hand to give a small wave, a curious furrow to her brow. Guess ghouls don't come in here often.
Cormano Cormano takes a long drag from his cigar, causing smoke to pour from the gaps in his teeth and what's left of his nose. He stands up from his stool and walks over to Cassandra, "Howdy Miss, you from 'round these parts? I'm new here an lookin' to git to know folks." He pauses to glance appreciativly at her rifle, "Mighty fine piece ya got there." He clenches his cigar between his teeth as he speaks, only removing it to take a sip from his drink, using the straw to keep liquid in his mouth due to the absence of lips.
Cassandra      Instead of answering the question, Cassandra wonders, "Are you really drinkin' /milk/?" She raises an eyebrow, seeming terribly amused at this, scratching at one plump breast through the shirt before shrugging her shoulder and saying, "Paid a lot of caps for it, from one of the local science types. The El Dorado something or other, I forget their name. I'm from California, originally." She uses her leg to kick out a chair on the opposite side of the table from her, an invitation to sit perhaps.
Cormano Cormano Rasps out a chuckle and nods, answering her initial question first. "Ay, Milk keeps these old bones strong miss. Don't git to be my age without a little help." He takes a seat at the table and nods gratefully "Thank ya kindly Miss, feet are awful sore." He sets the glass on the table and glances again back over to the rifle as Cassandra speaks of it. "Ah yeah, not your garden variety rifle, that's for sure then. How's California? Can't say I ever been."
Cassandra "If only they could do something for your skin, yeah?" Cassandra probably doesn't mean to be rude, but you might get the feeling she's out of practice talking to people. She sounds distracted and honestly, well, a little ditzy. She shrugs her shoulder, imparting quite the bounce to her frame, before saying, "Vitamin E, right? Something like that. I don't remember." While she tries to remember what's g ood for the skin, she then says, "Same as the rest of the world I guess, gone to shit mostly." A short pause, "What brings you through El Dorado?"
Cormano Cormano nods solemnly, "Ah yeah. Ain't much that can improve this here hide. I don't take no offense, I know I'm ugly." He rasps out another chuckle. He takes another long drag from his cigar, smoke still pouring in an impressive amount from nearly every opening in his face. So much so you might almost think he was on fire. "Came here to find work, either fixin' things or fixin' problems." He pats the revolver at his side and nods as if to affirm it's existance. "Just came back from a patrol."
Cassandra Cassandra waves her hand dismissively, accepting her ordered whiskey when the waitress comes back by. "I ain't prejudiced against ghouls or nuthin'. Way I see it, any ghoul with enough brains to hold a conversation is the same as any other person." Yeah, it's when the ghouls start grunting and snarling more than using words that you have to start to worry. She looks towards the revolver at your side, eyeing it over for a moment before nodding, "El Dorado Militia's still hiring I think. So's the Caravans if you fancy roaming Guard duty."
Cormano Cormano eyes light up at the mention of the Militia, "I done heard tell-a somethin' long them lines. I weren't never an enlisted man... Least that I know, but I'd be mighty pleased with steady work." He takes the cigar from his mouth and takes a long sip from his milk. The patrons of the lounge glance toward the table every now and then, perhaps gawking at the mummified vaquero. "Know where a fella could git ahold of whoever does the enlistin' a that militia?"
Cassandra "Honestly, I don't." Cassandra's voice falters, wavers a moment. She reaches up, almost unconsciously, and touches the slave collar around her throat. She doesn't say anything, just lets her fingers linger there, as she continues, "I've been, out of touch for a while." An embarrassed red flush touches her cheeks then, and she clears her throat, shrugging once more and taking a long sip of the whiskey.
Cormano Cormano leans back a little, noting the collar. "That uh... Ain't onna them collars that blows up is it? Need someone to clip it off for ya?" He rasps out, a look of concern flashes across his face. How he recognizes the collar in the first place is a mystery to Cormano.
Cassandra Cassandra shakes her head, jerking her fingers around from it, "Nah, it doesn't blow up or anything." Which might make one question why she still wears it, since it certainly doesn't seem like there's a minder around. Certainly while some in the room seem to recognize her and she gets leers now and then, no one appears to be watching to make sure she doesn't run away. "Anyway, point is, I don't know who's in charge over there anymore. But the office is just down the road on Gold Road West, middle of the city."
Cormano Cormano decides to let the slave collar go and finishes off his milk. He sets the empty glass along with a few caps on the table and returns to his cigar. "Thank ya kindly miss. What sorta work you git up to?" He asks, his cigar bouncing up and down between his teeth as he talks. With a free hand he pushes the brim of his Sombrero back and glances around the room, taking silent note of the patrons. So far no one has tried to clean his clock for being ugly, but you never know.
Cassandra Cassandra snorts, and shakes her head, "Lately? I haven't had any 'work' except pleasing my 'husband'." She looks down at herself for a moment before saying, as if it's just now starting to hit her, "But I guess he's gone now so. Who the fuck knows. Desert Rangers maybe, if they'll have me and I can shake the rust off." Part of her looks, almost wistful about this, as if she's not entirely sure this is better.
Cormano Cormano tilts his head to the side, "Could join up with the militia too, Somethin' to be said 'bout safeguardin' an alright place like here. Sheriff didn't even laugh when I volunteered to patrol." He folds his arms and looks to Cassandra, taking her in unconciously before snuffing his cigar out into the heel of a worn out boot. "I don't look like too much, so usually folks do." He rasps out another chuckle.
Cassandra "I'm more of a Ranger than a police officer honestly. I like too be by myself, roam the desert at night. I guess I need a new horse too." As you take her in unconsciously, she seems to pose equally unconsciously, lifting her chin, holding her chest up and shoulders back. Her face flushes with embarrassment, but obvious pride and pleasure too. "Don't judge books by their cover I guess."
Cormano "'Spose I can respect that, somethin' to be said 'bout knowin' yer lot in life." He rubs the side of his leathery face as Cassandra poses, averting his black eyes with a sort of chuckle. "Ah.. Sorry.. Didn't mean to stare. I git that plenty myself." He rasps out.