[ The door doesn't look like the one to her apartment in Bay City, and the decor inside doesn't match, either - even if it's similar. ]
Hey. Come in. You want anything to drink?
[ You know, because Kristin Ortega's a model hostess. She's in the closest she gets to civilian clothes these days: her work clothes, minus the blazer. ]
[Something pings in his subconscious-- this is off-- but he doesn't have enough data and Quell isn't here to tell him what to do. He moves toward her, hands grabbing at her hips, bending down for a deep kiss.]
[ Kristin doesn't pull away. She doesn't want to. Fuck telling him, she thinks, as she pulls him into the kiss he's asking for, and then I could ask him after, he'll be in a good mood. He still tastes like fucking cigarettes. He hasn't seen her place yet. And if she put it off, she could start unbuttoning his shirt - ]
I need to talk to you.
[ - but she wants to get this over with.
It's mumbled against his mouth, chased by another little kiss, as if to say Then we can go back to this. ]
But he moves away, giving her some space. He finds a place to sit, and lets his overlong body relax back on it. His need for ego, to take up space, to be a person outside virtual, all combine into an obnoxious lounge and a cocky smile he doesn't truly feel.
Kristin practiced this part in her head as she was doing other things, trying to refine the wording into something he might actually listen to. If nothing else, it comes out confident, nearly as business-as-usual as she hoped it would.
"The admiral won't give me information on any of the inmates here." She sits down next to him, near but not touching, and pulls out the smartphone they gave her. "I want to make files - not everything about them, just enough to know why they're here. This is what I have."
She texts the document to him and waits.
NAME: Takeshi Kovacs ALIASES: Mamba Lev, One-Hand Rending, the Icepick AGE: Adult D.O.B.: around 2100 PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Currently 6'2", white, blond, scar over right eye ORIGIN: • Harlan's World, 2100s • Bay City, Earth, 2384
(NOTE: Kovacs was incarcerated indefinitely for the RD of a mercenary on Harlan's World. Technically, he's 284.)
CRIMES: • CTAC deserter • Terrorist follower of Quellcrist Falconer, participant in the Uprising on Harlan's World • Mercenary
Kovacs has killed dozens or hundreds of people (sleeve death and real death), starting with his Praetorian CTAC team on Harlan's World (he shot them all and ran). These three "crimes" represent a lot of bodies.
POWERS AND SKILLS: • CTAC-trained (Colonial Tactical Assault Corps) - hand to hand and weapons experience, full-body armor experience • Envoy-trained - fighting ability, self-control in VR settings, extreme reflexes, capable of all abilities regardless of sleeve
KNOWN ASSOCIATES: • Lieut. Kristin Ortega, BCPD - non-criminal associate
OTHER: Despite his history, Kovacs doesn't attack or kill without reason. He isn't an active danger to the Barge. We don't have to worry about him.
Kristin watches him read, taking in the way his frame tenses and knowing there'll be fireworks. It might take longer than with other men - Elias, she means Elias - but it'll get there.
"I'm taking the stance," she says, even-toned, trying for once not to rise to the bait set out on a silver platter before her, "that we need to know what these bastards are capable of from the start. I just need an example - to show the wastes of space in charge here that we can get that information."
But the personal has always remained very fucking personal with Kovacs. Frequently, it's all he has, until the next time it's ripped from him. Until now.
"You aren't here because you forgot to help an old lady cross the road." That's not the point, she wants to say. The point is, everyone else. But if he's calling her Kristin, he's either pissed or fucking her, and the latter is looking more and more unlikely tonight. "I have to put something in the brief, or we won't get anything from the rest of these bastards."
"And you picked terrorist." That doesn't usually hurt, that label. He's used to it. Quell's glassy eyes staring back on a looping vid screen, and he tells himself he's used to it, and-
He's punched hard enough to render plaster, but since her walls are stonework, all he's left with are bloody knuckles.
For a moment, it's like she's back in Bay City, Elias losing his shit, her hands coming up stop -
But it's a different man and a different place, not the same look in his eyes as a few strands of his hair flop in front of them. And she's mad enough to spit a moment later - Protectorate puppet, fuck him.
"So we take terrorist out. You want to write your own file, then do it." Kristin reaches over for his fist, trying to give her own hands something to do. He's going to have bruises there tomorrow. "But I have to have something."
"You wanna use me as your test case," he hisses, just picking up more steam. "You wanna show of you've tamed me, is that it? To all your warden friends?"
"What warden friends?" She's got his hand between both of hers, but her eyes are locked on his face. Bait: taken. "Half these idiots just want to hug each other between tea parties. I want to prove we don't need an entire fucking file before we can decide if one of these inmates is fucking unhinged. Not you. The others. Don't try and make me into a meth."
"This rap sheet makes me sound like a psychopath. Don't pretend." He sneers down at her. No privacy for him. No safety. No refuse. What scraps of anonymity he had will be gone, and he can't stop her. "Who are you gonna show this off to?"
"Other wardens. When I'm happy with it." Judging by the look on her face, she's not there yet. Dropping into Spanish, she adds, "So cut the crap about what's there and help me. We need to find the real psychopaths here."
She didn't deny she's going to. This is a formality. He closes his eyes, expression caught in rage. "No," he says, cold. "Fuck, no. Fix your own shit."
"Kovacs -" He's on his way to the door, but that doesn't mean she's not going to try. She's back in English again, and later, some part of her will hate the way anger and pleading mix themselves up in her voice. Right now, she just wants him to stay. "We need to know how dangerous people are. Some of the people here don't know how to fight. Some of them are kids -"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Hey. Come in. You want anything to drink?
[ You know, because Kristin Ortega's a model hostess. She's in the closest she gets to civilian clothes these days: her work clothes, minus the blazer. ]
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I need to talk to you.
[ - but she wants to get this over with.
It's mumbled against his mouth, chased by another little kiss, as if to say Then we can go back to this. ]
Just - five minutes.
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But he moves away, giving her some space. He finds a place to sit, and lets his overlong body relax back on it. His need for ego, to take up space, to be a person outside virtual, all combine into an obnoxious lounge and a cocky smile he doesn't truly feel.
"What is it?"
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"The admiral won't give me information on any of the inmates here." She sits down next to him, near but not touching, and pulls out the smartphone they gave her. "I want to make files - not everything about them, just enough to know why they're here. This is what I have."
She texts the document to him and waits.
NAME: Takeshi Kovacs
ALIASES: Mamba Lev, One-Hand Rending, the Icepick
AGE: Adult
D.O.B.: around 2100
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Currently 6'2", white, blond, scar over right eye
ORIGIN:
• Harlan's World, 2100s
• Bay City, Earth, 2384
(NOTE: Kovacs was incarcerated indefinitely for the RD of a mercenary on Harlan's World. Technically, he's 284.)
CRIMES:
• CTAC deserter
• Terrorist follower of Quellcrist Falconer, participant in the Uprising on Harlan's World
• Mercenary
Kovacs has killed dozens or hundreds of people (sleeve death and real death), starting with his Praetorian CTAC team on Harlan's World (he shot them all and ran). These three "crimes" represent a lot of bodies.
POWERS AND SKILLS:
• CTAC-trained (Colonial Tactical Assault Corps) - hand to hand and weapons experience, full-body armor experience
• Envoy-trained - fighting ability, self-control in VR settings, extreme reflexes, capable of all abilities regardless of sleeve
KNOWN ASSOCIATES:
• Lieut. Kristin Ortega, BCPD - non-criminal associate
OTHER:
Despite his history, Kovacs doesn't attack or kill without reason. He isn't an active danger to the Barge. We don't have to worry about him.
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She should know the tone of his voice well enough by now, to know there is anger lurking close by.
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"I'm taking the stance," she says, even-toned, trying for once not to rise to the bait set out on a silver platter before her, "that we need to know what these bastards are capable of from the start. I just need an example - to show the wastes of space in charge here that we can get that information."
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"So you think I'm a terrorist."
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He's punched hard enough to render plaster, but since her walls are stonework, all he's left with are bloody knuckles.
"Cops really are just Protectorate puppets."
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But it's a different man and a different place, not the same look in his eyes as a few strands of his hair flop in front of them. And she's mad enough to spit a moment later - Protectorate puppet, fuck him.
"So we take terrorist out. You want to write your own file, then do it." Kristin reaches over for his fist, trying to give her own hands something to do. He's going to have bruises there tomorrow. "But I have to have something."
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Who the fuck could tame Takeshi Kovacs anyway?
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She turns to leave.
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