Quinne and Amahle share a drink
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Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
On those rare occasions where Amahle was able to snag a minute, it was here that Mr. Valentine’s secretary would come for some much needed R&R. ‘Here’ was a grand bar in Purple District, another high end establishment with a groovy theme. It was a particularly calm afternoon, fresh after the lunch rush.
Amahle looked slightly disheveled as if she ran a marathon. Her hair unstuck itself from the desperate attempt to hairspray it in place of her trademark bun. Her glasses had an odd, noticeable smudge. Lately, she sported a lot of purple with tints of pink, which suited her incredibly well—it seems her place among the Funk Mafia was getting a bit cozier by the day. Which was a good thing, right? A purple silk rose with pink rhinestones dazzled her collar.
Amahle slipped into a purple bar stool, whipping off her rose-tinted glasses to clean it with her shimmering purple-pink blouse, patiently and wordlessly waiting for a friend. She had bags under her eyes.
Quinne — 05/17/2021
It wasn't coffee, but he'd found the time to meet up with Amahle, who seemed to need it. Where she looked frazzled, the stoic Mafioso appeared as clean-cut and well-kept as always. He found Ama easily enough, and tapped a finger to her shoulder, just before he took up the stool next to her.
He still wore his usual get up, but the vest had purple trimming rather than an intricate design, and the rest of his clothing was black. "Miss Amahle, you look like you just woke up. Is everything alright?" Hopefully there wasn't some issue on the way to the bar, but if so, he'd happily deal with it personally.
A nod to the bartender followed, and he'd allow her to order first, if she was interested in a drink.
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Despite exhaustion weighing heavily on Amahle like a dark, oppressive cloud, she managed a silver-lining smile once she felt that shoulder tap. She whipped around to see her new friend.
“Well, hello, you handsome devil!” she grinned, cuffing Quinne playfully on the shoulder and giving him a hug. Woops, Amahle was an insufferable hugger to those she considered friends. The smile waned at his concerned face and questions. “Oh, I’m alright, I’m just tired. Lots of orders to get in, meetings to set, and a whole lot of backlog paperwork to file that the previous secretary... didn’t do...” Amahle was particularly bitter about that. It set her back by a lot, which meant she was always kept on her toes. “How are things on your end?”
Amahle ordered something fruity and light. “Gotta go back to work, so nothing strong for me. SOMEONE’s gotta be sober, because Bowie knows my boss won’t be...” She laughed humorously.
Quinne — 05/17/2021
The hug was unexpected, but Quinne still accepted. Whereas Amahle was a notorious hugger, he was quite the opposite. A hand to her shoulder was as much affection as he'd muster there in public, 'lest people got ideas. "Sounds like the Secretary needs an assistant." He teased with a smirk, but he offered a sympathetic look when mention that the last secretary didn't do her job. "Hopefully you don't do that in your sleep."
He leaned into the counter and turned his upper body a bit to face her, while he relaxed. "Not bad. Bartending is easy, and it's been mostly following Harpur around as he deals with any trespassers." The man was good muscle, but Quinne was happy to ensure no one tried to take advantage of an unprotected back. "He fought one of the UG recently, we recorded it."
When she ordered her light drink, he went for a Vieux Carre. "Yes, of course. We could grab a coffee on the way back, if you'd like."
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Amahle laughed at this; she hardly ever slept. “I manage,” she reassured. “Although... an assistant for an assistant... I think you’re on to something, there, bud.”
The little secretary happily took her drink from the bartender, a delightfully bright strawberry daiquiri clasped between carefully manicured fingernails. She took a generous sip.
“Ah, you and Harpur, huh?” Amahle could only imagine the shenanigans a pair of Mr. Valentine’s bloodthirsty muscled henchmen would be doing together. Harpur getting into fights was met with disapproval, but it didn’t surprise her. “Well, I sure feel a lot safer now,” she quipped, grinning sheepishly. “Knowing Harpur and Quinne are out there, protecting us Purples.” As she said this, thoughts drifted to her Bandito best friend Frank, and what he was up to now. “The fight was recorded? What happened?”
“Ha. Sounds good, but I’m buying this time.”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
"Yes, for the times you actually find yourself in a bed and not behind a desk." Atleast until she was caught up and had more time to breathe. When his glass arrived, he nodded his thanks and took a moment to pay up. "Somewhat. The man likes to do things on his own, usually. He's got the muscle for it."
Not that he didn't, but Quinne wasn't about fist-fights most of the time. His vibe tended to do well enough. "Absolutely, that's what we're paid for." Another smirk, and he'd finally sip from his glass after finding a napkin to set the cherry garnish on. "Harpur lost, but he did a lot of damage. The UG fighter had a group with her, too, UG and Banditos." The last word was spoken with obvious distaste.
"If you must!"
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Amahle choked on her daiquiri when Quinne mentioned the Banditos, only because she was thinking fondly of Frank. She coughed violently into the crook of her arm. “Sorry, swallowed the wrong way,” she sputtered, quickly taking more sips as if it would solve her problems.
“Harpur lost?” To think that the meanest of the Purples managed to lose both disturbed and worried her. Harpur was a tower, a wall, and virtually unbreakable in Amahle’s eyes. “Oh my gosh, is he okay? Where is he now? You didn’t get involved, did you?” And now she was searching Quinne up and down to see if he had a scratch on him. “I mean—I know it’s what you do, I’m sorry, it’s just I can’t stand seeing all of you get hurt. I hate it.” Amahle sighed. As much as she feared Funk Mafia at times, feeling like a guppie swimming with sharks... she held a terribly soft spot for all of them.
After all, they accepted her as who she was. It was more than her own real family can ever say.
Quinne — 05/17/2021
Quinne paused when she started choking, and once she managed to recover, he'd offer another napkin to her. "You're fine. Okay now?" He asked, and set his glass down. "Yes, but this was a few days ago. I'm sure he's fine now." Little did he know there'd be another fight soon.
"I don't know where he is, but I'm fine. I was just the cameraman." No scratches on him! "Don't stress too much. Can you imagine if all we did was wait at bars or paperwork? Sounds boring." And a tease towards her, even if he would disagree with any notion of Amahle fighting. "Harpur lives for that sort of thing, as far as I can tell. He likes to be one of those who is the muscle-front of the Family."
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Amahle took the napkin, dabbing at her chin. “Thanks,” she muttered distractedly. At Quinne’s word, she relaxed, more focused on him than she was. “Oh, thank god... that’s a relief to hear.”
Able to wipe the worry from her face, she gave her pal a smirk. “Well, you’re not wrong... and I do enjoy dancing, much better than paperwork. But, on the flip side, I don’t trust anyone else to do what I’m doing...” She let that one trail away, her conversation with Mr. Valentine still fresh on her mind.
An appreciative chuckle was given, imagining big ol’ Harpur donning a knight’s armor with a sword and shield, ready to throw down to whomever threatened Funk Mafia. Then there was Quinne, who was more like the muscle in the shadows.
“I’ll be doing another show tomorrow night. Should be a lot of fun, a lot of ladies and gentlemen putting on some really neat performances. Of course I’ll have my solo act. Something a bit new I’m doing, different than the martini glass trick I usually do, ahahaha...”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
Back to his drink. When she relaxed, Quinne nodded. "That's understandable, you being out of sorts after a fight means all that paperwork gathers up again." He'd sip his drink, but eventually downed it and ordered another.
"Yeah? Is that an invitation? What time is it?" He asked curiously, offering both of the cherries to her now, if she was interested. "I hope you get the same interest still?" Why wouldn't she, though? "What's the new plan? Or is this going to be a secret until the reveal?"
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Quinne was being funny. It earned a pursed-lip look from the secretary. “Oh, yes, because all that paperwork is the real take-away from this.” Heaven forbid she had to any for anyone in the Funk Mafia family that died. She shuddered.
Amahle happily accepted the cherries, even doing a little wiggle-dance. The dance alone, however small and unintentional, would push feelings that she felt—in this case, joy. Such is her vibe. She ate the cherry, then popped the stem into her mouth and started tying it into a knot. She plucked it out of her mouth, and showed Quinne her proud piece of work.
“Of course it is, silly! I want you there!” She shrugged mildly. Should she toot her own horn? “Yeah, I guess I garner a lot of attention there.” She laughed. “You’re gonna have to find out, Mister Lawson. My act will start at ten o’clock. Wearing purple gives you a free drink on Thursday’s!”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
"Honestly, if anyone tried to fight you, they wouldn't last long. You wouldn't be the person dealing with them, though." The rest would, likely. Don't touch Secretaries or some sort of respectable taboo like that.
When she presented that tied cherry stem, Quinne was quiet for a moment. "Are you showing off for something specific or?" It was a tease, of course, and he smirked again. "I'll be there, promise." When she mentioned he'd have to find out, he'd nod to her. "I enjoy surprises. Usually." Sometimes, but only good surprises.
"When don't I wear purple? Anyway, is tomorrow Thursday?" He'd check his phone, just incase.
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Amahle tilted her head sideways, thinking Quinne meant that nobody would last long against her. Then he clarified, which earned a harrumph. “I can defend myself,” she lied, but mostly out of pride. The most Amahle could do to someone is try to appeal to their better nature.
“I mean, well, I’d rather not... you know. But maybe if I twerk hard enough, my assassin might change their mind about killing me or something.” The thought was so absurd that she laughed. Then she grimaced, hearing Quinne mention she needn’t be the one dealing with a potential assailant. “Hopefully body needs to.”
Her eyes about popped out of her skull when Quinne asked if her cherry stem trick was a suggestive implication of something. “WHAT! What! No,” she smirked, hiding her face. “It’s just something I do when I’m bored at the club. I got better at it over time.” She shrugged, embarrassed. “Yes, tomorrow is Thursday.”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
"Sure, but we can defend you better." When she talked about twerking, Quinne raised an eyebrow at her. "Or you might tempt them to do it even more! Don't...don't twerk during a dance fight." He pressed a hand against one side of his face and drank again, swishing the contents that remained.
"You must get so very bored." Quinne laughed at that expression and sighed after, phone tucked away. "Perfect. I'll wear my best vest. When do you want to head out for coffee, Miss Amahle?"
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
“Don’t stress, I’m not actually going to,” she reassured with a small smile. “Harpur said he wanted to teach me how to defend myself just in case I do get into a bad situation. He said my Vibe can act defensively, so... I guess with a bit of training, maybe my aggressive twerking can manipulate a dude’s emotions to get away from me or something, I don’t know. I’m joking, by the way. I doubt twerking will do so much as make a fella scratch his head in confusion.” Anahle laughed, then shared in that sigh, but for a different reason. She was very much against violence, even at the best of times. “I guess in a violent world, it’s kind of necessary,” she said, echoing Harpur. “I’m a bit of a target now that I work closely with Mr. Valentine. It is what is is.”
“I don’t really have time to get bored. Here, want this strawberry?” She fished it out with her straw and held it up for Quinne, thinking his cherries for her strawberry might be a good trade off. Her daiquiri was just about finished. Draining the rest and leaving only the ice behind, she fixed her high bun. “Right now, if you’re ready. Coffee sounds too good. Something swimming in a million calories. Ha, ha.”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
"So much for 'I'm not actually going to'." As she spoke of more aggressive twerking. "I'm glad he'll be helping you, even if I'm not sure if he has the same...finesse you would. He's more of a bruiser, and I can't see you like that." Still, he was sure the self-defense would have merits. "It is, especially if you get caught outside while someone's trying to muscle into our territory." It was always a risk, too. "If you ever need an escort and can't find Harpur, I'm happy to help."
He'd accept the strawberry, but finished his drink before eating that and he'd pay the bartender again. "Sounds like a plan. I'll get my coffee and you'll get your....blend of nonsense with the shot of caffeine." A tease, but he'd wait for her to stand before heading for the door.
Amahle Moreau — 05/18/2021
Amahle gave her friend a bit of Ama-brand side-glare. “I’m not,” she insisted, hands planted on her hips. Her hands fell thoughtfully as she followed Quinne out of the bar. “No, he’s really not,” she agreed. “He promised he wasn’t going to teach me anything beyond defense. I think Mr. Valentine is heavily endorsing this, too.” She sighed. “What have I gotten myself into?”
It was a heavy question not entirely designed for an answer. Despite this, she continued. “Mr. Valentine told me that this sort of job—working for him, that is—might not be suitable for me... it kind of hurt, you know? I don’t know... originally I went into this job because my mom and dad... well... forced me to, but after a while, even with all of this... crazy work load, I’ve grown pretty fond of my position. Is that... weird?”
That question did require an answer, as Amahle looked up with pain clear as day on her face.
“I don’t know, just... Mr. Valentine probably thinks I can’t take care of two gardens—I mean—“ Amahle blushed. “—two jobs, and he knows I prefer burlesque over this job, but I don’t want to... to lose this.”
It was a complicating situation to be sure. Amahle didn’t know how to describe it, but she knew that if her boss dismissed her, she would be devastated.
“I don’t know if I convinced Mr. Valentine that I can do this. But I really want to prove that I can, that I am capable. It’s not his fault, or mine, that the work load is... pretty bad right now. The last guy was incompetent... but I feel incompetent, too. I forgot my freaking phone... and the package I was supposed to deliver to Mr. Valentine was late...”
The cafe was not far from the bar, so walking was not much of a problem. Across the street, watch for vehicles, and there it was, a soft fancy brown front with gilded chairs and glass tables nestled in gardens. “Blend of nonsense,” she scoffed.
Quinne — 05/18/2021
"Perhaps it's for the best still. We might not always be able to help, and it's better than picking up the pieces." Even if a good bit of revenge would likely hold some of their interest, but it was better if Amahle wasn't injured. As she explained her predicament, he turned his stare over his shoulder. Quiet and contemplative for a time.
"There is nothing wrong or weird about growing fond of a job you started doing. All I can suggest is proving him wrong: do better." It was a cold sort of encouragement, but he still meant it as encouragement. "You are doing something you were forced into, no one expects you to be perfect immediately without any prior experience. I feel like your lack of confidence is causing you to slip up. If you feel you're incompetent, you will start being incompetent. Does that make sense?"
He sighed slowly. "One of the suggestions some people give to others that lack confidence is to pretend they do, and down the line, it will be less a facade. They believe themselves to be it, and people pick up on that. It's no different here."
Hopefully Amahle would find the advice to have its merits.
"Blend of nonsense, indeed! You drown out the coffee with everything else. Do you want to sit outside or in?"
Amahle Moreau — 05/20/2021
Amahle laughed at this, and lightly shoulder-bumped Quinne. As much as a short person like her can, anyway. Everyone around her had to be so freaking tall.
“I plan to. I like proving people wrong. It’s a vice.” Despite the cold-flavored encouragement, Amahle saw it as only fair. Business is business. Amahle saw it as such.
“I told him I’d be perfect for him in a month,” she sighed, shoulders sagging. She went inside the cafe, and filed in line behind the others. “Oh, let’s go outside. The weather is perfect!”
When it was their turn, Amahle ordered a triple-shot White Chocolate Mocha with extra whipped cream. She waited Quinne to order his.
“Thanks for the advice, it’s sound. Mr. Valentine will be hiring an assistant for me. Which is great, to be honest. I can use it.”
Quinne — 05/20/2021
"It's an interesting goal, to be sure." Go beyond expectations was always a good idea for people in certain businesses. "Make sure you actually do so, keep him from wanting someone else." Because they might be as awful as the person prior to her, and that helped no one.
"Outside then."
When she ordered her drink, he'd nod after. "I'll get an actual coffee." It was a playful jab towards Amahle, though he ignored the barista's confused look. "Sugar and cream on the side, thank you." He'd take up his things after and headed for the door, nodding.
"Oh, good. Then maybe you can breathe a little."
Amahle Moreau — 05/20/2021
“I hope I’m not coming off as... complaining,” she said suddenly, holding her Mocha between her pretty manicured hands. Quinne’s playful jab was met with another glare. “Go ahead and drink your boring coffee, see if I care.” It was a playful little jab of her own.
“A little,” she laughed. “It’s hard to remember how to breathe some times. Anyway, I’m not trying to complain. I like Mr. Valentine, I do. It’s obvious he cares a great deal about his ‘family’. I’m not knocking on that. Some times I wonder, like... why do I do these things? I guess a part of it is because of my parents? But I think it’s deeper than that. It’s just... it’s really heckin’ confusing. Hard to put it all into words. I guess a part of me wants to just... prove myself, maybe that is true.”
Amahle opened the iron gate to the outside garden and chose a little table in the back by a bird bath. A couple of finches were playing in it. Amahle watched them happily for a moment.
“Anyway, I’m over here just rambling about my own stuff. How are you doing?” She had asked this already, but it was a question a bit deeper than that. Amahle did this every time to people she cared about: are they sleeping okay? Eating well? Getting plenty of exercise? All the healthy habits that Amahle can’t seem to do pragmatically.
Quinne — 05/22/2021
"You're fine." Quinne said quietly, but he smirked at her returned jab. "Oh, I will, and I'll enjoy it." Happily, as his tone suggested. "I'm sure you'll figure out your inner motivations in time, just don't stress yourself out over it." Once they had a spot, he'd deal with adding his desired amount of additives to his coffee.
"Lovely birds." He was rather fond of birds and, had he anything, would've tried to coax them over with food. "I think you will prove yourself, Miss Amahle, once you've fixed up the mess you were left with." He said earnestly, stirring up his coffee. "I'm doing great. Work's been at a bit of a lull, but that never lasts." Someone would push them.
"The bar's been great, I rather enjoy the setting."
Amahle Moreau — 05/23/2021
“Yeah...” Amahle drank her ridiculous coffee thoughtfully. Quinne’s comment about the birds made her glance back. “They’re so sweet, aren’t they?” She heart the note of fondness in her friend’s voice. “Think you have some time to keep a feathery friend?”
The finches seem to give off a pale golden glow, which made the water shimmer and ripple strangely. Amahle ceased speaking at once and watched. Suddenly, watery bubbles rose up around the bird bath. Amahle was transfixed by this. “Think they heard you? Looks like they’re putting on a show, just for you.” She grinned.
“I’m glad you’re thrilled with your job at the Aqualux. It’s a dazzling place, gotta go there more often. As for your other job, well... heh, there’s always one idiot, isn’t there? I’m sure Mr. Valentine will always have a fella saying the wrong the thing, or... you know... betrayal.”
Quinne — 05/24/2021
"They are." Quinne agreed, and he considered her suggestion, though he had to think it over. "I'd have to shop for something that would work well with me. I could make time, or get someone to check on them while I'm working. The night shift would make it easier, perhaps, if it sleeps while I'm not around." It would likely just be bored while he was asleep.
"Wouldn't surprise me, they seem smart." He said after the little display, but eventually turned back to Amahle fully and took a drink from his cup. "You do, you'd have a lot of fun, I think." Quinne replied,and he'd nod to her. "Yeah, there's always someone. Eventually, they're going to wise up and we can have some peace for a bit."
For however long it lasted.
Amahle Moreau — 05/27/2021
“Yeah! Some birds do require a lot of attention. I’d say if you can offer minimal attention, something that is low maintenance while you’re working in the day, maybe a cockatiel, or budgies? I heard they prefer a few hours at best...” Amahle tapped her chin. “Me, I really like fish, is that weird? One day I’d like to just fill my apartment with an aquarium. Maybe a cat. Oh, hey! If you go bird shopping, can I come along?”
Amahle snorted. Asking for peace was a bit like trying to pull teeth. “If only,” she sighed.
Quinne — 05/27/2021
"Perhaps something like a cockatiel is best." Quinne wouldn't mind a larger bird, but he knew it wouldn't be happy. Perhaps he'd figure it out. "I don't think that's weird at all. The Aqualux has a great deal many aquariums and I've gotten fond of the fish they have there." They were lovely to look at.
"Of course you can. We'll pick a good day for it, I wouldn't mind a cat myself." If not a bird, a cat would likely fit his schedule a lot better. "Or maybe something reptilian, those don't need a great deal of attention."
He sighed as well and sipped at his coffee, leaning back. "One day, hm?"
Amahle Moreau — 06/03/2021
“Oooh. I can picture you wearing a snake every where you go. Quinne and his pet spooky noodle... ooOOoOOo.” Amahle waggled her fingers as if they too were snakes. “You can threaten all the bad guys with it, ha, ha.”
“Excellent! We’re busy people... as much as I want something cute and fuzzy, I don’t know if I can feasibly keep one, but... well... we’ll see how it goes...” Amahle apparently really wanted a pet. Alas. “Maybe I’ll get a spooky noodle, too.”
In the meantime, the finches warbled to each other and bobbed up and down in an odd dance as they proceeded to make the water bubbles grow. Suddenly they burst, raining water down on them. Amahle laughed at this. “It’s a good thing they aren’t mad at us. Imagine if they dive-bombed us with water.”
Quinne — 06/04/2021
"Or something like a lizard, so I can put it in a harness." He had some ideas. He nudged one of her wiggly hands away, but pulled back so he could enjoy his coffee. "You should. We can walk around the district with our very non-conventional pets. It's just a matter of getting one now." Cats and dogs were easier, afterall.
He moved a hand over his coffee when the birds splattered them with water and he smirked, using his free hand to wipe water from his forehead. "Let's not give them any ideas. It was cute, though." He moved his coffee aside, eyeing the birds again. "I wonder what they'd do if I did feed them."
Amahle Moreau — 06/12/2021
“Afraid of snakes, Quinne?” she smirked. “Don’t worry, you can protect us Funk Mafia folks from all the crazies and I’ll make sure none of the snakes get ya.”
Amahle checked the time, and sighed. “This is probably where I’ll end this for now, but I am always down to more coffee breaks with you. Just say the word. I better get back to the ol’ grind.” She sighed again, mocked rolling her eyes. “Take care of yourself, Quinne. Until later!”
Amahle rose up, paid for their coffee, and went back to the endless struggle that her job provided her. At least she went back with a smile—and some coffee!
On those rare occasions where Amahle was able to snag a minute, it was here that Mr. Valentine’s secretary would come for some much needed R&R. ‘Here’ was a grand bar in Purple District, another high end establishment with a groovy theme. It was a particularly calm afternoon, fresh after the lunch rush.
Amahle looked slightly disheveled as if she ran a marathon. Her hair unstuck itself from the desperate attempt to hairspray it in place of her trademark bun. Her glasses had an odd, noticeable smudge. Lately, she sported a lot of purple with tints of pink, which suited her incredibly well—it seems her place among the Funk Mafia was getting a bit cozier by the day. Which was a good thing, right? A purple silk rose with pink rhinestones dazzled her collar.
Amahle slipped into a purple bar stool, whipping off her rose-tinted glasses to clean it with her shimmering purple-pink blouse, patiently and wordlessly waiting for a friend. She had bags under her eyes.
Quinne — 05/17/2021
It wasn't coffee, but he'd found the time to meet up with Amahle, who seemed to need it. Where she looked frazzled, the stoic Mafioso appeared as clean-cut and well-kept as always. He found Ama easily enough, and tapped a finger to her shoulder, just before he took up the stool next to her.
He still wore his usual get up, but the vest had purple trimming rather than an intricate design, and the rest of his clothing was black. "Miss Amahle, you look like you just woke up. Is everything alright?" Hopefully there wasn't some issue on the way to the bar, but if so, he'd happily deal with it personally.
A nod to the bartender followed, and he'd allow her to order first, if she was interested in a drink.
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Despite exhaustion weighing heavily on Amahle like a dark, oppressive cloud, she managed a silver-lining smile once she felt that shoulder tap. She whipped around to see her new friend.
“Well, hello, you handsome devil!” she grinned, cuffing Quinne playfully on the shoulder and giving him a hug. Woops, Amahle was an insufferable hugger to those she considered friends. The smile waned at his concerned face and questions. “Oh, I’m alright, I’m just tired. Lots of orders to get in, meetings to set, and a whole lot of backlog paperwork to file that the previous secretary... didn’t do...” Amahle was particularly bitter about that. It set her back by a lot, which meant she was always kept on her toes. “How are things on your end?”
Amahle ordered something fruity and light. “Gotta go back to work, so nothing strong for me. SOMEONE’s gotta be sober, because Bowie knows my boss won’t be...” She laughed humorously.
Quinne — 05/17/2021
The hug was unexpected, but Quinne still accepted. Whereas Amahle was a notorious hugger, he was quite the opposite. A hand to her shoulder was as much affection as he'd muster there in public, 'lest people got ideas. "Sounds like the Secretary needs an assistant." He teased with a smirk, but he offered a sympathetic look when mention that the last secretary didn't do her job. "Hopefully you don't do that in your sleep."
He leaned into the counter and turned his upper body a bit to face her, while he relaxed. "Not bad. Bartending is easy, and it's been mostly following Harpur around as he deals with any trespassers." The man was good muscle, but Quinne was happy to ensure no one tried to take advantage of an unprotected back. "He fought one of the UG recently, we recorded it."
When she ordered her light drink, he went for a Vieux Carre. "Yes, of course. We could grab a coffee on the way back, if you'd like."
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Amahle laughed at this; she hardly ever slept. “I manage,” she reassured. “Although... an assistant for an assistant... I think you’re on to something, there, bud.”
The little secretary happily took her drink from the bartender, a delightfully bright strawberry daiquiri clasped between carefully manicured fingernails. She took a generous sip.
“Ah, you and Harpur, huh?” Amahle could only imagine the shenanigans a pair of Mr. Valentine’s bloodthirsty muscled henchmen would be doing together. Harpur getting into fights was met with disapproval, but it didn’t surprise her. “Well, I sure feel a lot safer now,” she quipped, grinning sheepishly. “Knowing Harpur and Quinne are out there, protecting us Purples.” As she said this, thoughts drifted to her Bandito best friend Frank, and what he was up to now. “The fight was recorded? What happened?”
“Ha. Sounds good, but I’m buying this time.”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
"Yes, for the times you actually find yourself in a bed and not behind a desk." Atleast until she was caught up and had more time to breathe. When his glass arrived, he nodded his thanks and took a moment to pay up. "Somewhat. The man likes to do things on his own, usually. He's got the muscle for it."
Not that he didn't, but Quinne wasn't about fist-fights most of the time. His vibe tended to do well enough. "Absolutely, that's what we're paid for." Another smirk, and he'd finally sip from his glass after finding a napkin to set the cherry garnish on. "Harpur lost, but he did a lot of damage. The UG fighter had a group with her, too, UG and Banditos." The last word was spoken with obvious distaste.
"If you must!"
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Amahle choked on her daiquiri when Quinne mentioned the Banditos, only because she was thinking fondly of Frank. She coughed violently into the crook of her arm. “Sorry, swallowed the wrong way,” she sputtered, quickly taking more sips as if it would solve her problems.
“Harpur lost?” To think that the meanest of the Purples managed to lose both disturbed and worried her. Harpur was a tower, a wall, and virtually unbreakable in Amahle’s eyes. “Oh my gosh, is he okay? Where is he now? You didn’t get involved, did you?” And now she was searching Quinne up and down to see if he had a scratch on him. “I mean—I know it’s what you do, I’m sorry, it’s just I can’t stand seeing all of you get hurt. I hate it.” Amahle sighed. As much as she feared Funk Mafia at times, feeling like a guppie swimming with sharks... she held a terribly soft spot for all of them.
After all, they accepted her as who she was. It was more than her own real family can ever say.
Quinne — 05/17/2021
Quinne paused when she started choking, and once she managed to recover, he'd offer another napkin to her. "You're fine. Okay now?" He asked, and set his glass down. "Yes, but this was a few days ago. I'm sure he's fine now." Little did he know there'd be another fight soon.
"I don't know where he is, but I'm fine. I was just the cameraman." No scratches on him! "Don't stress too much. Can you imagine if all we did was wait at bars or paperwork? Sounds boring." And a tease towards her, even if he would disagree with any notion of Amahle fighting. "Harpur lives for that sort of thing, as far as I can tell. He likes to be one of those who is the muscle-front of the Family."
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Amahle took the napkin, dabbing at her chin. “Thanks,” she muttered distractedly. At Quinne’s word, she relaxed, more focused on him than she was. “Oh, thank god... that’s a relief to hear.”
Able to wipe the worry from her face, she gave her pal a smirk. “Well, you’re not wrong... and I do enjoy dancing, much better than paperwork. But, on the flip side, I don’t trust anyone else to do what I’m doing...” She let that one trail away, her conversation with Mr. Valentine still fresh on her mind.
An appreciative chuckle was given, imagining big ol’ Harpur donning a knight’s armor with a sword and shield, ready to throw down to whomever threatened Funk Mafia. Then there was Quinne, who was more like the muscle in the shadows.
“I’ll be doing another show tomorrow night. Should be a lot of fun, a lot of ladies and gentlemen putting on some really neat performances. Of course I’ll have my solo act. Something a bit new I’m doing, different than the martini glass trick I usually do, ahahaha...”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
Back to his drink. When she relaxed, Quinne nodded. "That's understandable, you being out of sorts after a fight means all that paperwork gathers up again." He'd sip his drink, but eventually downed it and ordered another.
"Yeah? Is that an invitation? What time is it?" He asked curiously, offering both of the cherries to her now, if she was interested. "I hope you get the same interest still?" Why wouldn't she, though? "What's the new plan? Or is this going to be a secret until the reveal?"
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Quinne was being funny. It earned a pursed-lip look from the secretary. “Oh, yes, because all that paperwork is the real take-away from this.” Heaven forbid she had to any for anyone in the Funk Mafia family that died. She shuddered.
Amahle happily accepted the cherries, even doing a little wiggle-dance. The dance alone, however small and unintentional, would push feelings that she felt—in this case, joy. Such is her vibe. She ate the cherry, then popped the stem into her mouth and started tying it into a knot. She plucked it out of her mouth, and showed Quinne her proud piece of work.
“Of course it is, silly! I want you there!” She shrugged mildly. Should she toot her own horn? “Yeah, I guess I garner a lot of attention there.” She laughed. “You’re gonna have to find out, Mister Lawson. My act will start at ten o’clock. Wearing purple gives you a free drink on Thursday’s!”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
"Honestly, if anyone tried to fight you, they wouldn't last long. You wouldn't be the person dealing with them, though." The rest would, likely. Don't touch Secretaries or some sort of respectable taboo like that.
When she presented that tied cherry stem, Quinne was quiet for a moment. "Are you showing off for something specific or?" It was a tease, of course, and he smirked again. "I'll be there, promise." When she mentioned he'd have to find out, he'd nod to her. "I enjoy surprises. Usually." Sometimes, but only good surprises.
"When don't I wear purple? Anyway, is tomorrow Thursday?" He'd check his phone, just incase.
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
Amahle tilted her head sideways, thinking Quinne meant that nobody would last long against her. Then he clarified, which earned a harrumph. “I can defend myself,” she lied, but mostly out of pride. The most Amahle could do to someone is try to appeal to their better nature.
“I mean, well, I’d rather not... you know. But maybe if I twerk hard enough, my assassin might change their mind about killing me or something.” The thought was so absurd that she laughed. Then she grimaced, hearing Quinne mention she needn’t be the one dealing with a potential assailant. “Hopefully body needs to.”
Her eyes about popped out of her skull when Quinne asked if her cherry stem trick was a suggestive implication of something. “WHAT! What! No,” she smirked, hiding her face. “It’s just something I do when I’m bored at the club. I got better at it over time.” She shrugged, embarrassed. “Yes, tomorrow is Thursday.”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
"Sure, but we can defend you better." When she talked about twerking, Quinne raised an eyebrow at her. "Or you might tempt them to do it even more! Don't...don't twerk during a dance fight." He pressed a hand against one side of his face and drank again, swishing the contents that remained.
"You must get so very bored." Quinne laughed at that expression and sighed after, phone tucked away. "Perfect. I'll wear my best vest. When do you want to head out for coffee, Miss Amahle?"
Amahle Moreau — 05/17/2021
“Don’t stress, I’m not actually going to,” she reassured with a small smile. “Harpur said he wanted to teach me how to defend myself just in case I do get into a bad situation. He said my Vibe can act defensively, so... I guess with a bit of training, maybe my aggressive twerking can manipulate a dude’s emotions to get away from me or something, I don’t know. I’m joking, by the way. I doubt twerking will do so much as make a fella scratch his head in confusion.” Anahle laughed, then shared in that sigh, but for a different reason. She was very much against violence, even at the best of times. “I guess in a violent world, it’s kind of necessary,” she said, echoing Harpur. “I’m a bit of a target now that I work closely with Mr. Valentine. It is what is is.”
“I don’t really have time to get bored. Here, want this strawberry?” She fished it out with her straw and held it up for Quinne, thinking his cherries for her strawberry might be a good trade off. Her daiquiri was just about finished. Draining the rest and leaving only the ice behind, she fixed her high bun. “Right now, if you’re ready. Coffee sounds too good. Something swimming in a million calories. Ha, ha.”
Quinne — 05/17/2021
"So much for 'I'm not actually going to'." As she spoke of more aggressive twerking. "I'm glad he'll be helping you, even if I'm not sure if he has the same...finesse you would. He's more of a bruiser, and I can't see you like that." Still, he was sure the self-defense would have merits. "It is, especially if you get caught outside while someone's trying to muscle into our territory." It was always a risk, too. "If you ever need an escort and can't find Harpur, I'm happy to help."
He'd accept the strawberry, but finished his drink before eating that and he'd pay the bartender again. "Sounds like a plan. I'll get my coffee and you'll get your....blend of nonsense with the shot of caffeine." A tease, but he'd wait for her to stand before heading for the door.
Amahle Moreau — 05/18/2021
Amahle gave her friend a bit of Ama-brand side-glare. “I’m not,” she insisted, hands planted on her hips. Her hands fell thoughtfully as she followed Quinne out of the bar. “No, he’s really not,” she agreed. “He promised he wasn’t going to teach me anything beyond defense. I think Mr. Valentine is heavily endorsing this, too.” She sighed. “What have I gotten myself into?”
It was a heavy question not entirely designed for an answer. Despite this, she continued. “Mr. Valentine told me that this sort of job—working for him, that is—might not be suitable for me... it kind of hurt, you know? I don’t know... originally I went into this job because my mom and dad... well... forced me to, but after a while, even with all of this... crazy work load, I’ve grown pretty fond of my position. Is that... weird?”
That question did require an answer, as Amahle looked up with pain clear as day on her face.
“I don’t know, just... Mr. Valentine probably thinks I can’t take care of two gardens—I mean—“ Amahle blushed. “—two jobs, and he knows I prefer burlesque over this job, but I don’t want to... to lose this.”
It was a complicating situation to be sure. Amahle didn’t know how to describe it, but she knew that if her boss dismissed her, she would be devastated.
“I don’t know if I convinced Mr. Valentine that I can do this. But I really want to prove that I can, that I am capable. It’s not his fault, or mine, that the work load is... pretty bad right now. The last guy was incompetent... but I feel incompetent, too. I forgot my freaking phone... and the package I was supposed to deliver to Mr. Valentine was late...”
The cafe was not far from the bar, so walking was not much of a problem. Across the street, watch for vehicles, and there it was, a soft fancy brown front with gilded chairs and glass tables nestled in gardens. “Blend of nonsense,” she scoffed.
Quinne — 05/18/2021
"Perhaps it's for the best still. We might not always be able to help, and it's better than picking up the pieces." Even if a good bit of revenge would likely hold some of their interest, but it was better if Amahle wasn't injured. As she explained her predicament, he turned his stare over his shoulder. Quiet and contemplative for a time.
"There is nothing wrong or weird about growing fond of a job you started doing. All I can suggest is proving him wrong: do better." It was a cold sort of encouragement, but he still meant it as encouragement. "You are doing something you were forced into, no one expects you to be perfect immediately without any prior experience. I feel like your lack of confidence is causing you to slip up. If you feel you're incompetent, you will start being incompetent. Does that make sense?"
He sighed slowly. "One of the suggestions some people give to others that lack confidence is to pretend they do, and down the line, it will be less a facade. They believe themselves to be it, and people pick up on that. It's no different here."
Hopefully Amahle would find the advice to have its merits.
"Blend of nonsense, indeed! You drown out the coffee with everything else. Do you want to sit outside or in?"
Amahle Moreau — 05/20/2021
Amahle laughed at this, and lightly shoulder-bumped Quinne. As much as a short person like her can, anyway. Everyone around her had to be so freaking tall.
“I plan to. I like proving people wrong. It’s a vice.” Despite the cold-flavored encouragement, Amahle saw it as only fair. Business is business. Amahle saw it as such.
“I told him I’d be perfect for him in a month,” she sighed, shoulders sagging. She went inside the cafe, and filed in line behind the others. “Oh, let’s go outside. The weather is perfect!”
When it was their turn, Amahle ordered a triple-shot White Chocolate Mocha with extra whipped cream. She waited Quinne to order his.
“Thanks for the advice, it’s sound. Mr. Valentine will be hiring an assistant for me. Which is great, to be honest. I can use it.”
Quinne — 05/20/2021
"It's an interesting goal, to be sure." Go beyond expectations was always a good idea for people in certain businesses. "Make sure you actually do so, keep him from wanting someone else." Because they might be as awful as the person prior to her, and that helped no one.
"Outside then."
When she ordered her drink, he'd nod after. "I'll get an actual coffee." It was a playful jab towards Amahle, though he ignored the barista's confused look. "Sugar and cream on the side, thank you." He'd take up his things after and headed for the door, nodding.
"Oh, good. Then maybe you can breathe a little."
Amahle Moreau — 05/20/2021
“I hope I’m not coming off as... complaining,” she said suddenly, holding her Mocha between her pretty manicured hands. Quinne’s playful jab was met with another glare. “Go ahead and drink your boring coffee, see if I care.” It was a playful little jab of her own.
“A little,” she laughed. “It’s hard to remember how to breathe some times. Anyway, I’m not trying to complain. I like Mr. Valentine, I do. It’s obvious he cares a great deal about his ‘family’. I’m not knocking on that. Some times I wonder, like... why do I do these things? I guess a part of it is because of my parents? But I think it’s deeper than that. It’s just... it’s really heckin’ confusing. Hard to put it all into words. I guess a part of me wants to just... prove myself, maybe that is true.”
Amahle opened the iron gate to the outside garden and chose a little table in the back by a bird bath. A couple of finches were playing in it. Amahle watched them happily for a moment.
“Anyway, I’m over here just rambling about my own stuff. How are you doing?” She had asked this already, but it was a question a bit deeper than that. Amahle did this every time to people she cared about: are they sleeping okay? Eating well? Getting plenty of exercise? All the healthy habits that Amahle can’t seem to do pragmatically.
Quinne — 05/22/2021
"You're fine." Quinne said quietly, but he smirked at her returned jab. "Oh, I will, and I'll enjoy it." Happily, as his tone suggested. "I'm sure you'll figure out your inner motivations in time, just don't stress yourself out over it." Once they had a spot, he'd deal with adding his desired amount of additives to his coffee.
"Lovely birds." He was rather fond of birds and, had he anything, would've tried to coax them over with food. "I think you will prove yourself, Miss Amahle, once you've fixed up the mess you were left with." He said earnestly, stirring up his coffee. "I'm doing great. Work's been at a bit of a lull, but that never lasts." Someone would push them.
"The bar's been great, I rather enjoy the setting."
Amahle Moreau — 05/23/2021
“Yeah...” Amahle drank her ridiculous coffee thoughtfully. Quinne’s comment about the birds made her glance back. “They’re so sweet, aren’t they?” She heart the note of fondness in her friend’s voice. “Think you have some time to keep a feathery friend?”
The finches seem to give off a pale golden glow, which made the water shimmer and ripple strangely. Amahle ceased speaking at once and watched. Suddenly, watery bubbles rose up around the bird bath. Amahle was transfixed by this. “Think they heard you? Looks like they’re putting on a show, just for you.” She grinned.
“I’m glad you’re thrilled with your job at the Aqualux. It’s a dazzling place, gotta go there more often. As for your other job, well... heh, there’s always one idiot, isn’t there? I’m sure Mr. Valentine will always have a fella saying the wrong the thing, or... you know... betrayal.”
Quinne — 05/24/2021
"They are." Quinne agreed, and he considered her suggestion, though he had to think it over. "I'd have to shop for something that would work well with me. I could make time, or get someone to check on them while I'm working. The night shift would make it easier, perhaps, if it sleeps while I'm not around." It would likely just be bored while he was asleep.
"Wouldn't surprise me, they seem smart." He said after the little display, but eventually turned back to Amahle fully and took a drink from his cup. "You do, you'd have a lot of fun, I think." Quinne replied,and he'd nod to her. "Yeah, there's always someone. Eventually, they're going to wise up and we can have some peace for a bit."
For however long it lasted.
Amahle Moreau — 05/27/2021
“Yeah! Some birds do require a lot of attention. I’d say if you can offer minimal attention, something that is low maintenance while you’re working in the day, maybe a cockatiel, or budgies? I heard they prefer a few hours at best...” Amahle tapped her chin. “Me, I really like fish, is that weird? One day I’d like to just fill my apartment with an aquarium. Maybe a cat. Oh, hey! If you go bird shopping, can I come along?”
Amahle snorted. Asking for peace was a bit like trying to pull teeth. “If only,” she sighed.
Quinne — 05/27/2021
"Perhaps something like a cockatiel is best." Quinne wouldn't mind a larger bird, but he knew it wouldn't be happy. Perhaps he'd figure it out. "I don't think that's weird at all. The Aqualux has a great deal many aquariums and I've gotten fond of the fish they have there." They were lovely to look at.
"Of course you can. We'll pick a good day for it, I wouldn't mind a cat myself." If not a bird, a cat would likely fit his schedule a lot better. "Or maybe something reptilian, those don't need a great deal of attention."
He sighed as well and sipped at his coffee, leaning back. "One day, hm?"
Amahle Moreau — 06/03/2021
“Oooh. I can picture you wearing a snake every where you go. Quinne and his pet spooky noodle... ooOOoOOo.” Amahle waggled her fingers as if they too were snakes. “You can threaten all the bad guys with it, ha, ha.”
“Excellent! We’re busy people... as much as I want something cute and fuzzy, I don’t know if I can feasibly keep one, but... well... we’ll see how it goes...” Amahle apparently really wanted a pet. Alas. “Maybe I’ll get a spooky noodle, too.”
In the meantime, the finches warbled to each other and bobbed up and down in an odd dance as they proceeded to make the water bubbles grow. Suddenly they burst, raining water down on them. Amahle laughed at this. “It’s a good thing they aren’t mad at us. Imagine if they dive-bombed us with water.”
Quinne — 06/04/2021
"Or something like a lizard, so I can put it in a harness." He had some ideas. He nudged one of her wiggly hands away, but pulled back so he could enjoy his coffee. "You should. We can walk around the district with our very non-conventional pets. It's just a matter of getting one now." Cats and dogs were easier, afterall.
He moved a hand over his coffee when the birds splattered them with water and he smirked, using his free hand to wipe water from his forehead. "Let's not give them any ideas. It was cute, though." He moved his coffee aside, eyeing the birds again. "I wonder what they'd do if I did feed them."
Amahle Moreau — 06/12/2021
“Afraid of snakes, Quinne?” she smirked. “Don’t worry, you can protect us Funk Mafia folks from all the crazies and I’ll make sure none of the snakes get ya.”
Amahle checked the time, and sighed. “This is probably where I’ll end this for now, but I am always down to more coffee breaks with you. Just say the word. I better get back to the ol’ grind.” She sighed again, mocked rolling her eyes. “Take care of yourself, Quinne. Until later!”
Amahle rose up, paid for their coffee, and went back to the endless struggle that her job provided her. At least she went back with a smile—and some coffee!
Moderators: AJ_89 Steven (played by Robo-Craig) QnQ Hide Miyagawa (played by Monoclejack) Chroma (played by lewsey)
