South City Haven

The wind rippled through Zen Howler's body as he screamed at the top of his voice through the unjustifiably tight - and pink - helmet that Rebecca had given him. The pair of them had been dating - well, just about - for close to two or three months now, ever since that night in his apartment when things had... started to move, and the two of them had decided "why not?". Or, maybe, the wine decided for them.

Regardless, Zen wrapped his arms tighter around his girlfriend's midsection and yowled like a small girl on a rollercoaster as the woman he knew as Morgana shot around corners at breakneck speeds and made seemingly impossible swerves. When she'd told him that he didn't need to hire a car, and that it was fine with just a bike, he'd believed her. But, no. It was definitely not fine. Zen had never learnt to ride a bicycle, let alone a motorcycle; and sitting on the back of one gave you all the lurching horrors of speeding around corners and leaning from side to side, and trying to judge gravity - an art that wasn't really the Internal Affairs officer's forté - with none of the control. Suffice it to say that it wasn't really the brown-haired so-called detective's cup of tea, coffee, or anything remotely soothing. Infact, this was the total opposite of soothing.

Rebecca had seemed more or less unfettered by his various screams, and Zen wondered if this was because she couldn't hear them hissing out through the tiny gap in between his visor and the helmet properly, or whether she was just ignoring them. He really hoped it was the former. This was not his finest hour... though he couldn't help shake the feeling that if she didn't stop driving like a mad woman, that it would be his final hour.

It wasn't long before eventually she ground the bike to a halt, but to Zen, it was far longer than he was comfortable with. And here she'd brought them: to her apartment, safehouse, and haven, all rolled into one. Her little corner of South City. The detective had never been a massive fan of Amestris, and though he'd taken in jagged glimpses of the beautiful South ocean in between his heaving, this latest experience with the motorcycle had only further proven him right.

Zen stumbled straight off the bike gagging, tearing the helmet off with vigour and tossing it aside haphazardly, running straight for the nearest solid surface and panting like a wolf. "NEVER AGAIN." The Howler howled. "NEVER. AGAIN." Oh, how he loved solid surfaces. Stalwart and very much static. On the way here, he had considered selling his car and nailing his feet to the floor of his apartment just so he could never move again. The unanimous decision between every one of his brain cells screaming frantically and telling him to stop doing whatever the fuck he had been doing was that motorcycles were generally a bad idea, and staying still was a good idea.

Eventually, he calmed down, slumping against a nearby brick wall, panting, and staring up to Rebecca. His breath was haggard, but the panic soon faded. A quick gulp soothed all the dry skin in his mouth and he looked up at her with a rather unhappy expression, as if he were about to break into cascading waterfalls of tears. "Please lemme' get a cab next time..." He half-begged, before letting his head fall back against the wall. Zen knew now it was time for her to make the next move, lead them the final stretch, walk them into her apartment, whatever. Just so long as he was allowed to sit here and breathe the delicious air for a few more seconds. Or minutes. Or hours. Or days. Or weeks. Or... fuck, he could sit here and just breathe for a few eternities if he needed to. "Or at least tell me if ya' gonna' try hurtlin' my ass off tha' damn thing." She even got a sexy leather suit with it all. He never got any sexy leather. Then again, he presumed he didn't look that good in sexy leather.

Mental images hit his mind like an unrelenting battering ram, and slowly the detective nodded. No, he was fairly sure he looked good in leather. His eyes fell shut and his head knocked back against the bricks, panting. "Lead tha' way, Morgana," He sighed. "Just lemme' get my breath back..." A trembling, accusing finger slowly rose towards the motorcycle that she'd parked up. "And neva' make me go near that fukken deathtrap again." A stern furrow lined his face initially, but before long, Zen broke into hopeless laughter.

It was always hopeless laughter.

Mmmm.... What a perfect day it was. Sure it was a little bit hot in her leather combat suit (that doubled perfectly as a motorcycle outfit), but she didn't really mind all that much as the wind tore past them. Edi was giving her a report for the past week in terms of activity, the voice soft and low in her ear. The world was still recovering from the war that had finally concluded itself, and much was happening in the different corners of the world. As a Spectre she had to make sure that she was aware of it, even though if they really needed her to do something they would just send her a mission report. But she was The Engineer, she felt a compelling need to know in any case. Fort Briggs was in a state of repair, Central City was much the same, South was still dealing with some of the remaining evacuee's while the capital was undergoing reconstruction. South was going to be gaining a new commander as Shula was going to follow after her husband-to-be, Spade Aeries. She couldn't help but wonder what that would mean for the Pirates with their ship in the bay.

Revving the engine as she swung around a corner, it was only then that she noticed how much tighter Zen was holding onto her waist from before. It made her smirk a little beneath her helmet as she eased up on the throttle so she wasn't going quite as fast. Zen Howler, her boyfriend. Edi was still teasing her about it even to this day. Oh god.... They were going to meet "face to face" as it were. Shit. Edi was NOT going to behave at all. "Ah fuck a duck..." She muttered into her helmet as she subconsciously sped ahead towards her base. "That would not be pleasant Rebecca. Shall I conclude the reports?" Damn AI. Rebecca could tell that she was joking around even if her voice did not reflect it as such. This... was going to be... "interesting." "Yes, do. Thank you." Her ears perked up at a background sound that had been softened in her helmet while she listened to Edi, but she was fully aware of the fact that Zen was screaming like a little girl behind her. Aiya... If he had had an issue with a motorcycle he should have just said something. Goofball.

Edi finished up her reports and fell silent which was when Rebecca had her turn up the volume just a smidge from Zen's helmet just on the off-chance that he might say something. The building was looming into view on their right, her hand easing up on the throttle as she pulled up into a parking space on the side of the street. Her bike purred before she shut it off, turning her head as Zen practically threw himself from her baby and tore the helmet from his head. She sighed lightly as it went rolling, kicking out the stop before dismounting herself. He was gasping as if he had been drowning or something, Rebecca just quietly picking up the bright pink helmet to place it in the compartment on the back of her bike. "NEVER AGAIN." She locked the compartment and beeped her bike before finally removing her own helmet with a swish of her hair. "NEVER. AGAIN." She held her helmet in the crook of her arm, running a gloved hand through her distinctively purple hair which was growing out to a rather nice length that was just brushing her shoulders. She was debating if she wanted to cut it back to her jawline again, but she kind of liked it this length.

Her appearance aside, she watched her boyfriend as he sat there against the wall recovering from his apparent brush with terror in the form of her motorcycle. Her crimson eyes rested upon him with a quiet calm, the smile that was cracking at her features a little bit apologetic. Ok, so maybe it was more like "oops" than anything else. "Please lemme' get a cab next time..." Maybe he was being a little melodramatic, but if he wasn't used to bikes she could understand his concern even if it was her at the wheel. She crouched down in front of him and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Alroigh'. You can ge' a cab next time." She told him quietly before straightening up, turning her attention then to the building that loomed up beside them. You could tell it was a rather new apartment building with large loft space which she had taken full advantage of. Being a Spectre did have quite a few perks such as requisitioning such a large apartment for herself. Like in North City, she owned the entire floor and had made some substantial adjustments to it.

"Or at least tell me if ya' gonna' try hurtlin' my ass off tha' damn thing." Now that she had to chuckle at, turning away from where her eyes lingered on the fourth floor to gaze upon him again. "Now why in the world would I wanna do 'at? Seems like a perfec'ly good waste of a man." She commented with a small chuckle, unzipping her leather suit a bit to allow for a little more airflow. God her tits were sweating like nobodies business. It seemed like he was a lot calmer now even as he continued panting, "Lead tha' way, Morgana," Oh. Right. Shit, well... He'd find out that wasn't really her name soon enough. Honestly she had been meaning to say something about that sooner since they had been dating for a couple of months now, but well, between trying to save the king and killing people it just had never been a good time. She'd figure it out, she always did. "Just lemme' get my breath back..." She nodded once with a soft smile, raising an eyebrow as he pointed his finger at her baby. "And neva' make me go near that fukken deathtrap again."

Even as he laughed, she just merely shook her head and chuckled, taking his hand to help him up to his feet. "You will never 'ave to ride Tron ever again. On my honor, lest I die and turn into a fish." She swore with a small laugh as she slid her fingers between his before leading him inside. She let them take the elevator up just because she wasn't sure he'd be able to manage the stairs, the small ding a sign that they were finally at her door. The hallway looked normal enough, but she knew better. Walking up to a door that said 404, she had to let go of his hand so she could slide her key into the lock, turning it before allowing the door to swing open. Again, it was a normal enough appearing apartment, her keys clacking into a bowl on the thin wall by the door that extended a quarter of the way into the room. There was a modern, classic, and oriental feel to her humble abode, immediately walking to the corner of the wall where it opened up into the kitchen and dining room. She pulled off her glove and placed her hand fully upon it, her face not changing as her hand was scanned for her prints, a prick of her finger signaling that her blood was being tested.

As soon as Zen was inside, the door closed by itself, locking as a voice spoke out, "Welcome home Rebecca." Shit. Even as she lowered her hand from the wall she winced a little, immediately turning to face Zen as she bit her lower lip. "Thank you Edi... Um... So Zen, I..." God she was at such a loss right now. "Morgana is one of my alias' tha' I 'ave for security reasons. My real name is Rebecca Wong. I..." She sighed heavily and found herself staring at the floor for a moment. Was he going to yell or shout at her for having lied to him about that for the past three months? Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to stare him in the eye. "I'm sorry." She said quietly, hoping and praying that he wouldn't react too terribly to the news. This... was not exactly how she wanted to handle this at all.

"Alroigh'. You can ge' a cab next time." OH THANK FUCK. Good news all round. Pop out the champagne. He wasn't going to die at high speeds and turn into a jam-coloured splodge on the pavement! A less-than-fitting end for someone who really preferred cigarette smoke and slow cruises. To think, he was the man in the relationship, sitting against a wall, choking back his own heart and the stench of gasoline in the air.

"Now why in the world would I wanna do 'at? Seems like a perfec'ly good waste of a man." She spoke in response again; the detective mustered a smirk, before letting his head fall back. At least his company and presence was appreciated. He couldn't really say that with confirmation around Ela, though he presumed that somewhere inside his cold interior sat a fuzzy little teddy bear. Or just more deathglares. Zen was, in truth, not entirely sure.

Zen's eyes opened wider as she further unzipped her suit. His pants drew to a sudden stop as a smile slipped onto his face. "Yeah, see, I'd always pictured myself dyin' in some courageous act of definin' chivalry," He jerked a thumb towards the road. "Not endin' up as a roadkill smear on the boobs." He reprocessed what he'd just said. "I mean... tarmac. Not boobs. Honest." Goddamn it, Freud! Every time he heard himself saying the damn word he focused immediately on her great big round- OKAY ENOUGH.

"You will never 'ave to ride Tron ever again. On my honor, lest I die and turn into a fish." Well... that was a strange promise. And a less-than-attractive one at that. God, they were an odd pair. He loved it, slowly scrabbling to his feet with a sigh and straightening himself out, suit and all. As if it were a reflex, from thin air, he produced a cigarette and lighter, and sparked up in no time at all.

"We don't want that, eitha'," The bumbling detective grinned. "I like ma' women like I do ma' barbecues. Lotsa' meat, no fish." Wait... that didn't come out right. "...I think I killed that analogy before I started," He concluded, hoping she'd just forget. Swiftly, they ascended through her apartment building, and Zen was like a magpie in a jeweller's. It was normal to Rebecca, but far more upmarket than what the Lieutenant Colonel was used to. Before long, distracted as he was, she opened the door and he sidled in, the panel closing behind him with a click. He blinked first. That was cool.

"Welcome home Rebecca." Zen immediately toppled over in shock as the sound of... something's voice filled the room. It sounded pleasant enough, but the detective knew better from multiple spy films. The nicer it sounded over intercom, the more horrible it probably was. He did, however, scrabble to his feet with a sigh, gingerly rubbing the small of his back with a grumble and recalling that his girlfriend had told him about some form of machinery that more or less did all her paperwork and ran everything for her. Oh... it had a voice? That was trippy.

"Who's Rebecca?" Zen spoke with a blink, before it finally kicked in; a pang of realisation surged through him like lurching unhappiness, butterflies swirling in his stomach. He knew the answer before she even spoke, nodding as his creased, furrowed expression reset to neutrality and most of the colour flushed out, thin tendrils of white smoke trailing off in a wispy helix. "Oh."

"Morgana is one of my alias' tha' I 'ave for security reasons. My real name is Rebecca Wong. I... I'm sorry." Zen rubbed the back of his neck and tried to take this all in. He'd been calling her Morgana for a month or so now. It felt more awkward than anything, but the feeling of being let down gently crept up on him, the common feeling of distrust he'd felt time and time again. Why hadn't she told him her real name earlier? He guessed there was no real way to do it.

But he dealt with this issue as he always dealt with awkward issues. He shrugged and took another drag on the cigarette, putting that same smile on. "I've seen enough James Bond films ta' know that an alias is fa' my own safety a' somethin'," He smiled up at her, letting the explosive cocktail of emotion slowly fade. For once, he actually kept a fixated glance on her breasts to try and distract himself from the matter at hand, waiting for it to drift away before making eye contact again. Mm... boobs. "No need to apologise. Just call us even for all the inappropriate comments I made at bad boobs," ...again. "I mean bad times. Sorry. Force a' habit." If that wasn't example enough, there had been plenty more in the short time they'd been together.

He moved closer to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder with a smile. Zen had dealt with this as he always did. He'd just shrugged it off. Secrets like this came out sooner or later. It was a human thing. And a reaction was fine; but an overreaction wasn't. Getting all up in a huff about something he couldn't change was pointless. "Don't worry 'bout it," He smiled that dumbass smile of his and moved forwards to kiss her on the cheek. And, hell, maybe he'd get some awesome apology sex on the couch or something.

Rebecca couldn't help but laugh since, well, her boyfriend was such a goof. He liked her boobs, she was well aware of this. It was just always hilarious to her when he couldn't help but slip up in his speech. It was so very endearing to her as was his goofiness. "We don't want that, eitha'. I like ma' women like I do ma' barbecues. Lotsa' meat, no fish." Wait what? She paused as she began to walk, looking back to him with furrowed brows. Yeah, she was a little confused how that worked. Although vagina's were often described as fishy smelling, but she figured he didn't mean that. "...I think I killed that analogy before I started," She nodded while chuckling, shaking her head slightly. "Aye ya did tha' love." And then they were at her home.

He was obviously shocked by the sound of Edi's voice, though his reaction was almost a little over the top. She could practically sense Edi already making observations upon him now that he was in person. She, on the other hand, was still fretting over his discovery of her lie. It wasn't like she MEANT to do this, she just hadn't been quite sure when they first just how much she should share with him! While other Spectre's might readily share their name, she often didn't because it would be a security risk for herself. There were too many things that might go wrong should someone know her true name. "Who's Rebecca?" And there it was. She cringed further at his question, as if he had physically harmed her. "Oh." There it was. The realization of her mistake that had carried on too long. Even as she explained she could feel how her insides were fluttering about like some kind of program trying to right a wrong in its code. But the attempts to fix had come too late, the error was already occurring and there was nothing that can be done.

His face fell, he wasn't smiling anymore. And that was something that she never liked to see. The faces that fell at an instance like this, or when a mission had failed. She... had failed him in this sense. "I've seen enough James Bond films ta' know that an alias is fa' my own safety a' somethin'," Though he was smiling at her, Rebecca was not at all relieved. Especially not since he was focusing on her tits. Were they a distraction for him? Most definitely. She could hear Edi in her ear piece, "I apologize. I am accustomed to greeting you with your real name when you come home. Especially here." She could not respond to her AI verbally. He would know then that she was speaking to her about something else and that just seemed wrong at this particular time. "No need to apologise. Just call us even for all the inappropriate comments I made at bad boobs," she couldn't even chuckle this time. "I mean bad times. Sorry. Force a' habit." She held up a hand and shook her head to dismiss the slip-up, glancing to his hand as he placed it upon her shoulder. It still did not feel like it was ok at all. "Don't worry 'bout it," She managed a faint smile and allowed herself to relax. Alright... He seemed to have forgiven her. As he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, she could feel the remaining eddies of tension fade into the background. "I'm still a git." She said quietly before she turned and walked further into the apartment.

It was set up much like it had been in North City. On the other side of the hanging wall beside the door was a burgundy love seat with a matching couch on the wall around the corner. A black table with glass for its surface was between the two and a small mahogany coffee table in front of them. A closed door on the far side of the room beyond that was where she headed to, gripping the door handle while placing her left hand on the wall beside the frame. She felt another prick from the wall, taking a sample of her blood for reference as she seemed to stare at the door itself. In reality it was scanning her eye before unlocking, her arm pushing it open to reveal the huge room that lay beyond. Different work benches lined the wall by the windows spanning the entire length of the long wall, any signs of the walls that had been there were gone. There was a room, however, in the center of the room that had glass walls to reveal the numerous monitors that were inside. The glass room fit comfortably in the middle of it all, but it certainly wasn't a small room either. That was where she was walking, ignoring the inventions that were laying partially finished on all those work benches. There were a couple of larger robots that were standing still for the moment since their work had been completed for the moment. She would have more orders for them later.

"So this is where I work. I'm a Spectre, a member of a secre' government group tha' keeps an eye on world affairs. My missions concern the greater world as a whole, no' a specific country, though i' can. The law also don't quite apply the same to me as i' migh' a soldier. I's so I can have the freedom to do wha' migh' be necessary in order to maintain tha' balance." She explained as her voice echoed a bit, walking to the far end of the room where there were a couple of doorways. One led to a bathroom that was decently sized, the other to her bedroom. "When I'm no' off saving the world though? I'm jus' your 'umble information broker. And pira'e. Heh." She called as she vanished into her bedroom to change, unzipping her body suit the full way before pulling on a tank top and short gym shorts while now deciding to go barefoot. "'aven' quite go'en to the inventor stage ye', but I'll ge' there probably."

"I'm still a git." Zen shook his head with a blissful, offhand smile. He couldn't really care. Her secrets were her own - every couple had them, and they were to be no exception. Deep down, he knew that if she did feel as strongly about him as he did about her, that it didn't matter what she said her name was or what he said his favourite colour was. So, for now, Zen Howler played it how he always played it. Cool. Or, at least, attempting to be.

"S'fine," He smiled. "And if ya' wanna' call ya'self a git, then at least you're an able and attractive git at that, eh?" And that wasn't just bedroom-able. He'd snuck a peek at Rebecca when she'd not thought he was looking; and she was rather... business-oriented. Very fast-moving, quick reaction times... all in all, dangerous, it seemed. Not someone he ever wanted to fuck with. Well... not in combat, at least.

Stepping in, Zen was greeted with the faint smell of dust and that cold aura of metal and technology, whistling slowly as he looked from side to side, nodding. "I imagine this is what Skynet's gonna look like when they take ova' tha' world." His eyes wide, the man was astounded, looking from side to side and finding something new and inexplicably badass with every further second he stared. Robotics, machinery, half-finished devices and doohickeys. And the glass-walled monitor-column... that was a nice touch.

"So this is where I work. I'm a Spectre, a member of a secre' government group tha' keeps an eye on world affairs. My missions concern the greater world as a whole, no' a specific country, though i' can. The law also don't quite apply the same to me as i' migh' a soldier. I's so I can have the freedom to do wha' migh' be necessary in order to maintain tha' balance." It took Zen a moment to wrest his attention from all the technology he'd thought at least five years out of the world's reach and pay attention to his girlfriend, slowly processing her words. Jesus. So she was one of those old world-saving types? Fuck, all he did was make bullshit claims about informants that did or didn't actually exist and sit on his ass eating donuts and smoking all day.

One thing was for sure. Now that the Ascot siblings had taken over, as chief of Internal Affairs, he was definitely asking for a nicer-looking office. Jesus, they'd gotten some shitty government building in the ass-end of nowhere that stunk of old feet and dust. They had one computer for every three people and a faulty coffee machine. "...I, uh," Zen gulped. "This makes what I do look a 'lil bit..." What was the right word, what was the right word... "Shit." Zenith Howler, master of eloquence.

Hell, if Rebecca wanted fresh coffee, she could get a robot to get another robot to press some buttons that operated a few more semi-robots to operate a sentient AI-controlled coffee-maker. And if she was out of coffee, she could get a few more robot errand-boys to run down to the store to grab her another couple of packs, and take out her laundry whilst she was at it. The place was untidy, but it still seemed distinctly more well-kept and maintained than his apartment, and smelt... a lot fresher. Zen took deep lungfuls of the air, before sniffing inquisitively. "Mm... eucalyptus."

Still a tad dumbfounded, Rebecca lead him to the end of the room, Zen fortunately having associated the name change quickly enough. It was a little of a shock to the system, but he'd been left with worse by people he'd initially thought better. At the moment, she'd seemed like the only person taking him half-seriously. Even the detective knew it was nigh-on impossible to take himself fully seriously. "When I'm no' off saving the world though? I'm jus' your 'umble information broker. And pira'e. Heh." Huh? Pirate?

She disappeared into a bedroom, Zen deciding to stay outside and look around at all the flashing lights and awesome screens. Goddamn, this was like a basement dweller's wet dream, not including the hot purple-haired chick in the background. "Fukken' Dietrich. Knew he was playin' favouritism," The detective half-muttered and half-moaned to no-one in particular. It was good that the Ascot regime would hopefully change that all with the scary bastard Levi seemed to be. Rebecca's files had been totally off-limits, and he had the highest clearance level he knew there was. Knowing the former monarch's penchant for conspiracies, however, there was probably a separate clearance level just for knowing about a higher, top-secret clearance level.

Sooner, rather than later, she reappeared, having done a splendid job to cover up her cleavage. Slowly, Zen felt most of the blood return to his upper body with a sigh of relief. [color]"'aven' quite go'en to the inventor stage ye', but I'll ge' there probably."[/color] He smiled down towards her and swept an arm down to wrap around her back, leaning in for a kiss as his stomach exploded into a maelstrom of charging butterflies. Fuck, he didn't care how much she lied to him, he still felt considerably less shitty around her. His luck was finally starting to look up.

"Anywhere I could throw ma' coat?" Slowly, he moved down to unbutton it - the long worksuit jacket was still cold enough from the hazardous and rather horrid drive up here, the duration of which Zen still hadn't sure he'd totally survived and whether or not this was an expansive hallucination from blood loss - and broke away from her cheek with the blissful moron grin that he seemed to pull off so well. A single thought reverberated in his mind. She was his lucky charm. Hell, he'd have to bring her to a casino some time. "Ya' know," Regardless of her multiple professions, she seemed to be suited to moving around anyway. "I'd neva' have pegged ya' for a pirate." He paused for a moment before bursting into an immature giggle and swooping down to peck her on the cheek once more.

"Ya' should come along ta' tha' casino with me at some point. Hit Vegas a' somethin'." Zen hadn't played a game of cards in about three days, and was already feeling withdrawal. His fingers were twitching from a horrific lack of Texas Hold'Em. "I got..." He paused and smiled towards her, a look of something in those deep brown eyes, sentimentality or not. Even in casual gym shorts and a tank top... for some reason, she just seemed attractive, and not just in a sense of carnal desire. Just the very idyllic image of "girlfriend", the first thing he associated, the first thing he wanted to associate. At risk of sounding soppy and cheesy... the dream. "I got a feelin' that ya' could be my good luck charm, eh?" He grinned that idiot grin, flicked his coat over his shoulders, and stepped away from her, just scanning her up and down and wondering how he'd gotten so goddamn lucky.

Some people had rabbit's feet. Others, four-leaf clovers. Zen Howler had Rebecca.

"S'fine. And if ya' wanna' call ya'self a git, then at least you're an able and attractive git at that, eh?" Rebecca couldn't help but smile at his words, for he was ever turning things around. "He makes a valid point Rebecca. You turn approximately 7.89 heads by walking into a room. However your intelligence is usually 60% greater than theirs." Edi spoke into her ear as she moved into her work space, having to do her best to suppress the smile that wanted to spread on her lips at the sound of his whistle. Yes... She was very proud of this space, and what had been accomplished here. "I imagine this is what Skynet's gonna look like when they take ova' tha' world." HAH! Skynet.... They would probably have a lot sleeker things than what she made here. After all, some of the materials that would probably work were rather rare or hard to come by. Even with her resources, they were not unlimited and there was only so much she could ask for.

"...I, uh," Hm? She glanced back towards him, "This makes what I do look a 'lil bit..." Hm? Oh he couldn't seriously be- "Shit." She sighed softly, it wasn't even fair to try to compare her working space to anyone elses. "'s not an easy job. Yours would probably be preferable to be honest." And that was the truth. She had to run around everywhere taking care of jobs that always seemed to risk her life or involved almost getting blown up, or else she had to hack into databases that could end up getting some dangerous people on her ass. Not that they ever CAUGHT her hacking, but that was beside the point. As she changed in her room, she thought she heard him mutter something outside, but didn't really focus on it. "Fukken' Dietrich. Knew he was playin' favouritism," "Dietrich is unrelated to the Spectre organization. He has no control over it, and does not operate with them." Edi spoke out into the room, bringing a smirk to Rebecca's lips. Aye, she hadn't really worked with the monarch too much, not even in the last war before this one in Drachma. They had their own mission separate from his goals at the time.

Looking up at him, she blinked as he slipped an arm around her, her eyebrows raising even as her eyes closed to kiss him softly. A chuckle rolled up in her throat even as he pulled away, her smile quite content as her eyes slowly opened. This was such a different sensation from Meno, but that shouldn't be surprising since they were two different men. "Anywhere I could throw ma' coat?" Oh! "Oh aye. I have a coat hanger over 'ere..." She gestured back towards the wall next to her bedroom with the bathroom beside it, some hooks dangling on the wall. Her own long black coat hung there, forgotten for the moment since they were in South City. "Ya' know," She raised an eyebrow, "I'd neva' have pegged ya' for a pirate." And then he giggled, which had to be one of the most adorable things she ever heard. It made her giggle even as he kissed her cheek again. Her arm slid around his waist which drew her closer to him, shrugging lightly. "Most don't."

"Ya' should come along ta' tha' casino with me at some point. Hit Vegas a' somethin'." Oh? Go gambling? A chuckle began to grow within her, and she knew Edi would be chuckling too if she could, grinning as she glanced towards her computer station in the center of the room. "I got..." She met his gaze as he turned down towards her, searching those eyes of his which stared at her so tenderly. Yeah... She certainly hadn't seen that look in many peoples eyes before, but every time she did? Heh... It made her feel almost giddy. "I got a feelin' that ya' could be my good luck charm, eh?" Hehehe... She hadn't been called that before ever. "Well, tha'... And I can hack the machines if I so chose to. Go' me in trouble back in London once. I can' go into... Oh bloody hell, wha' was i' called..." She drifted off as she blinked and glanced at the ground, her hands touching to her lips thoughtfully. "Lady Luck." Edi answered for her, a series of beeping following before she went silent. Oh yeah, how could she forget? The name was so cheesey it was terrible. "Oh tha'! Yeah. I' was one of the things that caugh' the attention of those within the organization." Oh life... how it would about and was ironic.

She rose up and pecked him on the cheek as she slid away from him with his coat, quickly placing it on the wall before walking around to go into her computer room and check on her data mining that she was having Edi complete. "Though, I know you are more of a card shark than a machine man." She called back with a small grin, the glass doors sliding apart after she entered a code on its surface and gave her palm print. The 12 monitors flared to life and colors swirled on their screens as each lit up with its different things. One had code running, another had files that flicked rapidly between a grouping, schematics for Edi's body also popped up off in one of the corners. Emails, video clips, orders, even more coding... There was literally something going on every single screen. "I 'aven' actually been to Vegas surprisingly enough. Never 'ad a chance." She murmured, musing as to why exactly it hadn't happened. Granted, she didn't go gambling too often since there was no one to go with and it wasn't like she had a shortage of cash. Being an info broker paid really well, especially for how much she could find as compared to others.

"'s not an easy job. Yours would probably be preferable to be honest." Zen shrugged. He only counted his as boring all hell. Even the donuts got a bit grating after a while. And bloating. No-one else seemed to like them any more. And after the Kensington Incident, he just felt guilty eating Krispy Kremes or the shitty K-Tron rip-offs. Like a bad boyfriend just having to settle for second-best, jammy centres, glazed rings, and all.

"Depends on just how much ya' like boredom." Zen muttered, trailing his fingers idly against the wall. This place was so cool, but simultaneously, he felt so out of his depth. All of the tech was dazzling him somewhat, and he felt a little left behind in the dust whilst Morga Rebecca zoomed away on her deathtrap motorcycle. It really wasn't anything he could compare to; she was so much more amazing and achieved than he could ever hope to be, and for months on end, he hadn't even [i]known about it.

"Dietrich is unrelated to the Spectre organization. He has no control over it, and does not operate with them." Zen jumped once more. That was something he'd... have to get used to. And he'd wondered what the earpiece was for. She was like a female Solid Snake. Except with more leather. And more boobs. Mmm... boobs.

Zen walked up to one of the little, swerving cameras following his movement in the room, presumably linked up to the mainframe. Even he'd seen enough sci-fi movies to know how it went down. "I... COME... IN... PEACE." He said slowly. "THE... CYBER... MEN... MEAN... YOU... NO... ILL... WILL." Dalek? No. Not a Dalek. "PLEASE... DO... NOT... SEND... A... TERMINATOR... UNIT... AFTER... ME." That was as best as he could do. GOD, that thing was... creepy.

"Oh aye. I have a coat hanger over 'ere..." She gestured, and almost immediately, he handed her the blue worksuit up with a grin, returning to her side as she kissed him again. "Most don't." The giggles faded slowly. Pirate, though? She was missing the tricorn hat. Everyone needed tricorn hats. Zen knew them to be the source of all worldly happiness. And now he was imagining her in nothing but a tricorn hat. Oddly content with the image.

"You're a girl a' many mysteries, Miss Rebecca," He smiled once more, nudging her below the ribcage, almost surprised at how lean she was down there. Though he supposed, with all these new revelations, her occupation didn't really allow shortcomings in the muscular department. His lungs would probably disqualify him alone. "I'll remind myself ta' getcha' a propa' pirate hat for ya' birthday." TRICORN BIRTHDAY SEX!

"Well, tha'... And I can hack the machines if I so chose to. Go' me in trouble back in London once. I can' go into... Oh bloody hell, wha' was i' called..." "Lady Luck." Zen jumped out of her grip once more, still surprised by the abrupt, cool, and unusual female tones. It felt slightly invasive. Like he was always being watched. God, it was like dating a single mother. With an autistic computer child connected to every network imaginable. That had... potentially disastrous outcomes. "Oh tha'! Yeah. I' was one of the things that caugh' the attention of those within the organization."

"The organisation". Zen arched an eyebrow and sidled back into her grip. The entire thing sounded so cliché he could almost laugh at it. "Eh, ya' not missin' anythin'." He shrugged. "Been kicked outta' Lady Luck a couple times fa' countin'." Card-counting: his biggest secret, revealed. Not like he was a contemporary James Bond or anything. "Ya' want the Bellagio or Caesar's. I reckon we could beat tha' house."

"Though, I know you are more of a card shark than a machine man." She drifted off into her little monitor cage, and suddenly the screens all flickered to life. Zen's eyes darted from each screen to the other, in awe, almost dropping into an epileptic seizure from all the flashing lights... then, snapping himself out of it, he stared incredulously at her. "I 'aven' actually been to Vegas surprisingly enough. Never 'ad a chance." How could she... how did she... what was... AND SHE COULD STILL TALK?

Every day his girlfriend managed to amaze him even more. Once he finally came to terms with it, shaking his head and finding a seat somewhere in her half-apartment, half-workshop, and sitting down, finally processing what she's said. "I'll take ya' sometime." He concluded. Things had been looking up with Rebecca. Maybe, with her, he'd have a fair shot at the tables. "How can ya' keep yer' concentration..." He said, exasperated from just LOOKING at all the screens, not wanting to go into any more detail; her business was her business.