2010-07-15 - Dr. No

Hong Kong, Hong Kong.

The center of the Earth Sphere at one time, although with the change in government that's certainly changed as well. But even back then, elements worked right under the nose of the corrupt government. They also took paycheques from them on certain occasions.

Times have changed, but the location of a warehouse hasn't. It's nondescript on the outside, and on the inside there are large crates, men with long coats and submachine guns, and some trucks. Down in the basement is an elevator, and below that, there's a small outpost for the men and women of Amalgam. There's also a medical bay.

And it's there that fresh recruits are meant to spend time with the doctor, particularly to check their suitability for utilizing the Codarl's more special features. His office is down the hall and to the left; this isn't a big outpost, after all!

Inside the doctor's office, a tall man is squinting at a picture on the wall. It is of a boat on the high seas.

"What the hell? What do you /mean/ I have to have an exam?"

This was Fable's initial response upon receiving a call from a representative for "Mr. Silver." Furious at the very idea, she threw a tantrum; after all, she was working on retainer, as it were, simply for-hire as she "worked" with BAHRAM for the time being. However, it was insisted that such was protocol and mandatory.

Fable Ardross was still pretty upset.

That's why when she arrives at the nondescript warehouse in Hong Kong she all but barges in, literally kicking the door inward with her five inch boot heel. Every one of the men with long coats and lots of guns immediately point said guns at the irritable Ardross. The blonde Martian blinks several times before she thrusts her arm forward. In her hand is a paper.

It's the order.

The men all collectively 'ohhh' and relax. They then point the direction she needs to go.

THREE MINUTES LATER:

The blonde Frame pilot /again/ barges in, her blonde hair all pulled up in a ponytail. Clad in civilian attire that consists of a pair of expensive jeans and an equally-expensive-looking pink blouse, the woman starts grousing instantly.

"Okay, so what is this bullshit all about?" she complains. "I wasn't told there'd be this stupid protocol and formality. That guy said I'd just be on as a retainer! Who needs an exam when I'm not even really /working/ with you guys, anyway??"

And, as if it were /normal/ (it probably is; after all, she's a pilot) Fable begins unbuttoning her blouse.

"God this is such a crock! I hope you guys reimburse me for this lost time." She could be sunbathing on BAHRAM time, after all.

The moment that door comes kicking in, the tall man is leaping over the desk like a rabbit, hands even poised out in front of him as if he were diving, which isn't like a rabbit at all! Hitting the chair, he topples with it to one side, landing with a heavy thud. It's during the litany that follows that a balding head peeks out from behind the desk.

That head continues to rise, eventually revealing a quirked brow, and a 'what stinks?' expression on the man's face. "Ehhhh?" he sounds. When it's clear that there's no semi-automatic fire coming his way, Gates stands fully, idly brushing his coat down as the woman... begins unbuttoning in front of him.

"An exam?" he questions, a hand lifting to curl his blonde hair on the left sideburn. "Ahhhhh~! It's like being in high school all over again, subjected to climbing the rope and the too-careful attention of a sweaty gym teacher!" the man laments, empathizing immediately with the woman, his other hand lifted with fingers curled to the heavens. He gestures emphatically. He knows her pain!

That hand is still gesturing as he now stands in front of her, eyes staring up at her hairline instead of where most men would be staring. That hand keeps gesturing. Gates inches closer still. Finally his lips quirk, and with an expression that resembles a fish he asks, "How much time have you lost? I'm into decades myself, but I think I know where to find it all..." His beady eyes narrow.

While the tall man may be leaping and hiding like a coward, Fable does not seem to notice as she goes on about her favorite subject: herself. Her long arms gesture about, thin fingers splayed as she complains about having to take time off to waste it here.

Her hands move, to start unfastening her blouse as per the usual exam procedure. Only when the guy starts to speak does Fable halt and peer at him with a look of scrutiny. What the hell? And why does he look like someone she swears she saw on Neo-To Catch A Predator, starring Chris Hansen's head in a jar?

The analogy only makes her hand actually /stop/, which might be good because he's getting kind of uncomfortably close. Fable's expression shifts from mild bemusement to a look of irritation. He gets in closer, and the blonde Martian actually leans back.

"Too much damn time," she notes. "And what the hell are you talking about? Are you one of those doctors that actually /abuses/ the stuff he's meant to prescribe his patients? Where are your credentials?" Pausing, Fable's thin blonde brows knit lightly as she asks,

"Are you like...even a real doctor?"

No doubt it was his twin brother on the program, Bates. She leans back from him, and he leans forward, still intent on her hairline behind the bangs that fall across her face. "Ehhhhhhhh?" he sounds, annoyance at her questioning plain and punctuated with a hot gush of breath. That gesturing hand finally stops, and he jabs a finger into her chest.

"What kind of question is that to ask, all of a sudden?!"

The defensive tone is there, and he wheels about, coat billowing behind him as he spreads both hands up to the heavens. "What kind of question is that?! Tell me, God, tell me why the world you made has fallen so far, that women possess such paranoia, such suspicion for the intentions of their fellow man?!"

Abruptly Gates' head cocks and he seems to answer his own question, lips shifted to one side of his face. "Well, I suppose all the rape doesn't help, and the unequal work conditions, the uneven pay, the sexual abuse."

This time his speech is punctuated with the snap of latex.

Turning about, the 'good doctor' has a glove on, taken from the desk. Why the real Amalgam doctor has a box of gloves on top of his desk is another question entirely. "Well, what are you waiting for?!"

Flinching at the initial reaction she receives from the strange man, Fable certainly begins to feel that cold sensation of 'wrong place, wrong time.' That, or Amalgam is /really/ strapped on budget and hired community college doctors? Fable isn't sure. She doesn't want to think about it.

Or the fact her blouse is half-unbuttoned.

And the fact he's pushing a finger at her chest.

A thin blonde brow ticks in annoyance. Fortunately (for him), the 'doctor' wheels away and cries to God, and for a very, very brief moment, Fable reconsiders knocking him out with a punch to the jaw. Instead, the blonde woman just rolls her eyes and exhales in annoyance, her head shaking in disappointment.

"What a /waste/ of time," she grumbles, her fingers moving to actually re-button her blouse. It's about that moment when she hears the horrible 'snap' of a latex glove, to which her blue eyes actually widen in what is probably horror. She stares at the man for a moment before she just lets her expression melt into an angry one.

"Oh I KNOW you're not, now!" she exclaims, hurriedly trying to button her shirt. "That's illegal, you know! The nerve--to think I was going to take my clothes off! How the hell are you working for that guy?? Ugh, this /was/ a waste of my damn time! Nnhg, I am so /angry/!"

She pauses briefly, wagging a finger angrily at Gates.

"How dare you! If you want to get laid that badly, go get a hooker from downtown!"

Wiggling his fingers about in the confines of the glove, it seems Gates is more interested in that sensation than what the woman is saying. "Huuuuuuuuh?" he sounds, gaze lifting back to her. She's buttoning up? "I don't see how we're going to finish the physical with your gloves on, but alright," he murmurs.

It is a few seconds after that that she claims he's after a tumble, and waggles a finger at him for good measure! His eyes slowly widen in what may well be shock. "WHAT?!"

The force of his cry is loud enough to lift his sideburns! His face slowly turns redder and redder, his lips bulging outwards as his mouth fills with air.

"WHY I NEVER--" he begins. " HOW DARE YOU--" he continues. " YOU'RE FAR TOO OLD FOR ME TO BE EVEN REMOTELY INTERESTED!" he concludes.

With a huffy breath, he spreads his gloved hand rapidly, inching the glove off without assistance. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh an angry slur against my good name! I don't know how you Martians do it, apparently with your hands, but here we put the condom on our monster dongs!" How does he know she's a Martian? He'll never tell.

It should be noted that there's a picture of a family on the desk. The children look nothing like Gates. And the wife is apparently a shemale, to judge by the bulge in her jeans.

Gates draws the glove back, snapping it at her like a rather limp rubber band. It falls somewhere between the two. "Now what guy are you referring to, hmmmmm?"

Her expression still obviously angry, Fable just glares at Gates as he makes a lot of noise at her. Only when he turns read and starts to get a lot /louder/ does she start to actually get angrier in response. How dare he yell at her when HE was trying to take advantage of poor, little HER! Lying to her, creeping her out--really!

Then he says she's too old for him.

Fable.

Gets.

Angry.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN BY THAT!?" she shrieks in response, /her/ face angry that he'd dare say she's too old for him--which she automatically associates with being 'anyone' because, let's face it. Gates is hands-down the last person anyone would willingly touch. "HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT!? HOW DARE YOU SLANDER /MY/ GOOD NAME AND GORGEOUS LOOKS!"

When he talks about dongs, though, she fumbles, gasping in horror before she clenches her jaw, presumably to keep herself from vomiting in disgust. Rather than respond, the woman just lets her thin brows furrow in further frustration.

"I'm talking about Mister Silver," she grumbles, adjusting her blouse and pointedly ignoring the fallen latex glove between them. "Who the hell are you even supposed to be? Are you some charity case he's mentoring for some PR points or something?"

Thankfully they don't need to be breathing to accept Gates' touch, because let's face it, the man is a twisted deviant. He stares down at the glove after she informs him who's sent her, his eccentric behaviour abruptly mollified. The shouting from before is like water off a duck's back now.

A moment later and he's twirling his hair again, the right sideburn now. "Ahhh, you must be the new one," he murmurs, gaze lifting and then deviating right off of her, taking in his surrounds with a new light. "And they must be thinking you may be able to control the Driver with a little outside assistance..."

He delivers a deep chuckle then, his perfectly large teeth showing.

"Or they just wanted to check...

"Well, I can do that."

Drawing up to his full height, he crosses his arms, a prim and proper look crossing his face. It's very similar to his 'what stinks?' expression from earlier. It doesn't suit him at all. "I'm Mister Kalium, if you must know! You're very nosey for someone who's just signed on. Would you like to guess what we did to the last person who got too curious for her own good?"

And then, out of nowhere:

"Now take off your blouse."

Well, that certainly was unexpected.

Blinking twice as the man actually calms the hell down, Fable becomes equally mollified in response, though she does manage to purse her lips tightly and quietly huff. New one, he says. The blonde Martian Frame pilot just rolls her eyes and absently nods her head. "Something like that," she notes. "I dunno--the guy just apparently randomly showed up on Mars one day looking for me." Shrugging her thin shoulders, she adds, "He told me how amazing I was, so I obliged."

But when "Drivers" are mentioned, Fable just looks absolutely puzzled.

"What is all this nonsense about Drivers?" she wonders, though she admittedly isn't expecting a real, coherent answer from the man. "I never heard anything about that. I was told I could pilot my Beletseri. That's all I need!" She doesn't need his help. Hell no. No. Just...

/No./

Scoffing lightly as he 'introduces' himself, the blonde just peers uncomfortably toward him as he more or less tries to threaten her. Fable's eyes narrow. "I sure hope you're not directing that toward me, /sir/," she notes with a less-than subtle edge to her words.

When he randomly tells her to take her shirt off, Fable's expression falters.

Then the Martian just snaps, "Oh, get /bent/! If I wanted sexual harassment I'd go back to Mars! At least the men there are /subtle/ about their advances."

Before she snaps, Gates is already beseeching the heavens, hands gesturing, mouth working silently. He stops when he does, and he acts as if neither event had just happened. "How else am I to check if you're suitable? Although it seems you're unaware of what it is that we use here in Amalgam. What the elite use, I should say!

"Well, by all means, continue using your piece of styled rock, if that's your desire."

He waves his hands dismissively. "But like I said," the eccentric man adds, an edge in his voice now. "I'm not interested in you that way. If you can use the Codarl's special features, then we need to know about it. Was it your wilful stubbornness that drew you to his attention, I wonder?"

The question is slipped in, seemingly random like most of his actions, referring to the recruiter that drew Fable into Amalgam's web. "Or do you simply turn to putty at the merest of compliments?"

And with that, Gates' expression brightens, his hands clutching together in front of him as he exclaims. "Ahhhh, Martian-chan, you have such large, perky breasts! They would serve well to keep a man warm at night! Ooh how I envy that, and your ability to tan~! Why, I bet you have no tan lines at all, ahhh~ ahhh~!!"

The man twists from side to side in his overwhelming show of glee, before the act abruptly ends. He gives her his twisted expression once more. "Take your top off. If I wanted to harass you, I'd already have lodged a bullet in your brain." 100% Serious.

"Maybe if you would /explain/ how and why this would be necessary for your 'suitableness' and all this Driver nonsense I'd be a bit more inclined to /believe/ you!" Fable argues back, visibly frustrated by the creepy man. When he insults her machine, though, she gets angry again.

"My Beletseri is a WORK OF ART!" she snaps, thrusting a finger at his chest. "Don't you insult my beautiful machine like that! Piece of rock--feh! It's better than the stupid pieces of metal everyone throws out. No one can beat it!"

At the mention of her stubbornness, Fable just scoffs. When he suggests she is weak against compliments, the woman's expression twists into anger. Again.

"Screw you! I do not!" she bickers. "Why the hell am I still here talking to y--"

The unexpected and sudden talk of her chest and tan almost make her throw up in her mouth. Fable even lightly dry-heaves at the idea. Fortunately she manages to keep it down. For now.

Instead, she scrunches her nose a bit before she actually takes a step /back/ and /away/ from Gates, her arms reaching up to guard her chest as she gives him an incredibly doubtful (and angry) look. "I am still waiting for a reason WHY that is necessary!"

"Ahhhhhh, why are you so stubborn?!" Gates enters into a tantrum all his own, feet stamping rapidly on the floor. His hands, at either side of his head, threaten to pull at his hair -- but he relents, not wanting to aid the progress of hair regression. "All I want to do is give you a quick physical to see if you're suitable! You already have the weak bones of a Martian, I need to know what else you might have wrong with you!"

How DOES he know that?

THREE MINUTES AGO

Gates' finger jabs against the chest of the girl. Behind the soft fat, he feels the resistance given by her rib cage. He knows, instinctively, that it does not match the density of someone who has been raised in either space or on this planet.

NOW

"Stop being so stubborn! It isn't a good look on a woman that's aging! You'll get furrow lines!" The tantrum comes to a stop, and he gives one last beseeching thrust of his arms skyward before regarding Fable plainly.

"The Codarl-m, our mass produced model, stands at nine-point-none meters in height. It weighs in at ten-point-eight tons, powered by a Palladium reactor like some kind of Iron Man. But that's not what makes it special, and that's not why it was pushed into mass production. It utilizes the Lambda Driver, a system that allows a man's latent psychokinetic powers to be given manifestation, allowing the unit to perform well beyond what it should. It can stop even the most powerful of ordnance dead in the air, and send it back at the assailant, provided the pilot has the will, and the concentration, to perform such a feat. Not everyone can. Some need a little help. Others can't at all."

Spreading his hands wide, Gates gestures again. "You seem to have the will, but I wonder as to the rest? It takes a toll on both the machine and the pilot. If it will make you feel more at ease, I'll take off my top as well."

“Because I don’t LIKE you and I /certainly/ don’t TRUST you!” Fable argues back almost instantly, blue eyes hooding sharply as she glares at the blonde. “You have given me absolutely ZERO reason to believe you because I am FAIRLY certain you are not a doctor!”

At mention of her Martian heritage, Fable snorts. “Like that means anything!” It means a lot, but that is beside the point in Fable’s mind. She’s perfect, after all--especially for a Martian. And as if some middle-aged asshole is going to make her think otherwise! “There is nothing wrong with me! And I won’t stop being stubborn until YOU stop being a creep, and I KNOW that isn’t happening anytime soon!”

A brow ticks. Did he say aging..?

“Why YOU SON OF--“

The sudden spout of information coupled with his straight-laced and arguably not-creepy demeanor give Fable every reason to pause in her proverbial tracks. Blinking several times, the woman’s otherwise bristled posture relents some, thin shoulders sagging a bit as she listens. Lambda Driver? Psychokinetic energy? Fable furrows her brows slightly. What is he talking about..?

Now stopping even the most powerful ordnance dead in the air and sending it back at an assailant--that Fable can understand. The blonde Martian smirks slightly, exhaling gently through her nostrils as blue eyes draw to a close. Pft, she could probably do that--and /more/. She’s Fable Ardross; what CAN’T she do?

Lifting a hand to her blonde ponytail, she absently twirls the tail’s tip between her long fingers with a Cheshire’s grin. “Hm hm hm, you sorely underestimate me, I see. I’m the best BAHRAM has--or had, maybe--under their wing.” Is that saying much? Who knows? “One little military toy is more than enough for me to handle with ease.”

When he offers to take HIS shirt off, Fable just thrusts her arms forward, palms facing Gates as she shakes her head. “God, if anything I’ll take it off if it will keep /you/ from doing that,” she insists before, well...going about to unfasten her blouse and fold it over her arm. Is that a Neo-Hello Kitty bra?

VERY POSSIBLE.

“Can we please get this over with?”

He's about three seconds away from unbuttoning his shirt when Fable makes good with the undressing. It draws a soft 'tch' of disappointment from Gates, very likely because he doesn't get to get undressed now. His hands fall to his side as he openly peers at what's on display now.

"Well, good for you, not stopping at the recommended age," the Amalgam Killer wryly comments on her choice of bra, a snort leaving his nose before he steps forward again. He fully expects her to step away; he'll be disappointed if she doesn't, particularly when he's walking forward with his hands lifted in anticipation of grabbing her.

"I've no doubt that you're a skilled pilot, otherwise why would you be here? But do you do more than pilot? What other qualities do you have, besides an abundance of breast?"

There's a critical look on Gates' face. He's judging her openly, and she's exposed to that judgment. "Remove the bra," he finally states. His fingers wiggle in the air for a moment, before he crosses his arms expectantly.

"Perhaps you'll be a natural? It's not beyond the realm of possibility, but you should prepare yourself, breast-chan, for disappointment. There's only two people in this organization who can utilize the Driver without outside assistance." Gates is not one of them; the tone he uses tells this fact, along with his expression.

"Oh shut up," is Fable's gracious response at his jab at her choice of attire, blue eyes rolling before she snorts. "Like I need a desperate old man to preach to me about my choices." Which, hey, is sort of true. Look at that hairline; Fable certainly gives it a glance before she turns her head aside and delivers a light, airy, 'pfft.'

When he moves, though, Fable's eye snaps to her peripheral and STARES at the approaching man with an incredibly obvious look of distrust and apprehension. It's not like it's the first time she's had her top off around a guy, but they're usually doctors, or good looking guys--he is neither.

"Well, be/yond/ my chest, if you can actually stop thinking about it for a minute," Fable notes with a scoff, "I am a very talented and amazing wom--WHAT."

Did he just say...

"What the HELL does that have to do with Lambda Drives and piloting?!" she shrieks, thrusting a finger at his chest. "And stop doubting me! I'll just show you how it's done when I get the chance! Now, if there's not a legitimate excuse for me standing her without my one-hundred and twenty dollar blouse on, I am going to /leave/!"

"Ahhhhhhh You're so stubborn!" Gates' frustrations boil over again as she stops short of complying with his request. Well short, it should be noted! He stamps one foot in clear agitation, hands lifting to tug at his impressively long sideburns.

"Why are you like this! Why haven't I just shot you in the forehead yet?!"

It's a legitimate question, the second one at least, and he briefly considers reaching into his coat to do just that. It'd be all over in half a second. But Silver would be angry, and it doesn't pay for any of the Misters to upset one another.

"Che," Gates sounds instead, teeth grinding for a moment before he lays it all out there. "You paid too much for that blouse, you know? I need to take your vitals, because the 'outside assistance' I keep referring to is actually a chemical cocktail dreamt out of the future. Ahh I just don't get it, why are you being so modest? You're in good shape, you're clearly proud of yourself and your tan."

Finally he releases his sideburns, breathing a long gust of annoyance. "Women are so weird. Do I need to get naked first to put you at ease, is that it? Ahhhhh~ but I haven't shaved this morning, so you won't be able to make the shape out properly," he says while looking down at his crotch.

"Well," Gates says after a suitable pause. "If you don't want to show me your body, I'll just wait until you're dead. Come on then, you can do your physical with the doctor later, when he's done taking a shit."

Eloquent, isn't it? He gestures to the door behind her.

Shot her in the forehead? Fable's brows knit in agitation.

Yet, it's all simply cast aside. As far as she is concerned it's just empty threats, however very, very wrong she may be. "Well, so what? What matters is that it looked good on me and complimented my chest very well. That is important. Money is no object when it comes to looking this good!" It's emphasized with a discreet bump of her hip to the left.

"And I'm being modest because you're a CREEP," she explains. "And no. How many times I have--what is WRONG with you!?" The last thing she needed to hear was about his crotch. The image forced in her head makes her turn and press a hand to her mouth briefly.

Tossing her head lightly, she just takes her blouse and drapes it over her thin Martian shoulders before turning her attention to the door. "What do you mean?" Well now she is just confused. "You mean I took my shirt off for no reason?? Oh my god, that guy OWES me. And why are you continuing to waste my time with your nonsense?!"

She hugs her draped blouse a little closer to her body in response.

Fable really doesn't know who she's dealing with; Gates isn't like the BAHRAM officers who've tried to woo her in the past, or the teammates who admired her while fighting for the same cause. "Oh, there's a reason why I asked you to do all of this," the man admits. No, he's a live viper right in front of her now, and the moment she turns her head towards the door, he strikes.

It isn't just her hugging her blouse a little closer; the Amalgam Killer loops his arms about her, pinning her appendages, leaning in close to whisper into her ear. She can struggle; he's strong.

"Ahhh, my not so little breast-chan, you have to realize; I'm the head of the Execution Squad, and if you haven't pieced it together yet, my ways are a little... out there, which is what makes me so effective. But ahhh~ my ears are burning, talking about myself like this."

His breath is hot as he informs her in his serious voice. "Everyone who works under me has to listen, and they have to obey. Out there, in the heat of the moment, if one person decides to act independently, it can mean the entire operation is botched and we can't~ have~ that~ at all.

"But you're not very obedient at all, and you talk back too much. You think too much of yourself. I wonder... should I lower my standards, just one time?"

Provided he hasn't been headbutted, elbowed, or Martian Titty Twister'd by this stage, he lets the silence and the audible threat linger, head cocked as he contemplates his decision.

"Ugh, no."

"You're kidding, ri--"

Before she can even let the last of her words slip past her lips she's suddenly pulled in and painfully close. Startled immensely, the woman's expression is genuinely shocked, blue eyes wide with what is presumably horror in the span of mere seconds. She struggles, however in vain it may be. It only makes the vise-like grip all the more painful.

...and it certainly doesn't help that her waif Martian body is weaker than a typical human's.

She listens; she has no choice in the matter. And when he says just /where/ he's from in the scheme of things, Fable can momentarily feel her blood go cold. She figured him for some random schmuck, some nobody with a name hired. But...really? Execution Squad?

For once, the Martian says not a word. His tone makes her uncomfortable--now, more than ever, she's almost certain he meant the things he said, about shooting her. He'd do it; he's obviously a crazy fuck. And right now she can't do a damned thing with her arms secured in place.

"Tch," the woman manages, looking toward him from her peripherals. "I'm a sniper. What do you e-expect?" At the mention of dropping his standards, Fable /really/ wishes she was anywhere but here. On the Riveria, sunbathing. Shopping in Tokyo. Harassing Sovi over text messages. Her face goes white.

That silence almost kills her.

Yet, she feels relieved for ONCE in her entire life when he says otherwise. Squirming again, the woman cautiously grumbles, "Please let me go."

NOW

Gates slightly lifts Fable as the two talk, if it can be called that. In that moment he gets a good idea of her weight, and unfortunately for him he also gets a feel of what her ass is like; entirely too padded, and not flat and shapeless like a little girl's.

STILL NOW

The squirming draws that toothy smile to the face of Gates, her tone entirely to his liking now. "You're much better this way, so submissive and quiet~" Thankfully for her sanity, there's nothing poking her in the butt right now though.

"You're new, so consider this your one and only warning. I don't normally hesitate to dispatch anyone who runs at the mouth near me, but you're old, so I'll forgive you just this once. My name is Gates. I trust you'll remember it, when I call you out for a job."

Does she regret signing on with this organization now? Finally, his arms relent, and he's all smiles as he turns her about to face him. "Now, what do I call you, or do you like your nickname, Breast-chan~? Here, put your number in my phone, then call yourself so you have mine, it's just like making a new friend, now isn't it?"

His teeth are entirely too large when he smiles like that. She's only seen the tip of the iceberg as far as the madness within Gates goes. A hairy hand offers her his phone.

The problem with him lifting her is that it puts pressure against her ribs. As result, it presses against her lungs, making it just a /bit/ uncomfortable for her to breath. Wheezing lightly, she struggles for a good, deep breath in that moment, fortunately distracted from the whole fact that he's way too close now for her liking.

His words only privately draw Fable's ire, blue eyes hooding as she scoffs weakly. However creepy his statement of her newfound demeanor may be, the threat does, however, keep her relatively in line. She does not like him. Not one bit.

And he's probably the first (and only) person to get her to shut up.

A little part of her regrets her choice. But then again...

Before she can think further, Fable finds her two feet on the ground once more--only to be turned to face him, unfortunately. But she says nothing; at this point she probably now realizes if she just remains quiet and stops bickering back he'll leave her alone. She's learning!

"I don't, no," she finally admits dryly. "My name is Fable."

The proffered phone is glanced at, blue eyes hooding slightly as she hears him out. He wants her number? What the hell? For a job? But she thought--

"Hmph."

Snatching the phone out of his hand, she doesn't even have to look at the pad to dial. Like a professional she dials the number in with just her thumb, appendage rapidly pressing keys before she hits send and hands it over.

A split-second after, a loud PI PI PI erupts from her back pocket. She pointedly doesn't answer.

"There, are you satisfied now?" she wonders, actually going about putting her blouse back on.

The advances of Ranvir Barizaan probably don't seem so bad right about now! "Fable-chan~" Gates seems to make a mockery of the Japanese, taking his phone back to enter her name. To judge by the number of keystrokes though, he just put her name in as 'Breast-chan.'

Sliding the phone back into the inside pocket of his coat, he remains all smiles as she puts her blouse back on. "Oooh, you'll know when I'm fully satisfied," the Amalgam Killer tells her, an unspoken threat shadowing the words, that he'll one day do something horrible to her, what he could have moments ago.

Signing up may have been a great idea?!

"Don't worry though. You'll enjoy the work I'll call you in for. It's always dirty, because I'm the one who has to clean up any messes. It wouldn't do for people to think they could get away with not paying us, now would it?" He chuckles, pupils diluting as he actively recalls the last time he had to call in to deal with a bad debtor.

The chuckle draws to a close, and the smile slowly bleeds from his face however. "Go find a hotel for the night. I want you back here tomorrow to try out one of the Codarl's. Don't drink too heavily tonight, I don't want your brain foggy."

It's almost like he knows her.