[ but then he's letting out a wobbly sigh anyway in preparation for what's apparently become sharing time. he picks his hat up off the bar and puts it on his head, leaving the gun sitting there. ]
I used to be a cop, on Ceres. I thought that's all there was. Take a bribe, go to work, arrest some scumbags, drink a bottle of scotch and pass out on my couch. I thought that was living.
[ A shrink, ha. Though she does have quite a bit of experience in getting inside people's heads. Well, kind of the other way around, actually, but the end result is still the same. She knows way too much about how most people work - it's why she so enjoys meeting people who don't follow the usual formulas.
She gives a little shrug, taking only brief notice of the gun and instead appreciating the hat. ]
The fact that you were a cop says you at one point wanted to do something. Keep people safe, stop corruption, take care of crime on the streets - there was something. Police don't have an easy time of it, even if they're the taking bribes sort. Which that tells me that it was normal for people on Ceres to do things like that, but you did still arrest people, so you've got some sort of moral code you live by.
It doesn't sound like a terrible way to live.
[ She can certainly think of worse ways. Pointing toward the hat, she adds: ] It looks good on you.
[ Was. Past tense. She'd bet that things took a turn for the worse in his life when that past tense started. ]
I'm sorry this place is using those memories against you, but I'm glad you have it again. And personally, I think it's a great hat. Fedoras are classic. People like Frank Sinatra and Indiana Jones always wore fedoras.
[ Nevermind that he probably doesn't know who those people are. ]
[ he gives her an odd look because - yeah no he doesn't know those people. he's betting they're old earth pop references though, and sometimes he gets those. he's been known to watch classic movies sometimes himself, especially when insomnia kicked in. ]
Belters don't have any need for hats, there's no weather on a space station. Sematimba used to say it helped him keep his head, though.
[ Okay then, he definitely doesn't recognize the references. Shame, he might like Frank Sinatra, or Humphrey Bogart. Any of those old noir detectives in the movies that played on TV late at night. Used to, rather. ]
That's as good a reason as any to wear a hat like that. Who gives a damn if it's weather appropriate.
[ he sets the hat back over his gun with an almost ginger touch before picking back up his drink and draining the rest, turning in his stool to watch her. he drops his elbow to the bar and leans his head against it to get a better look at her face. ]
Yeah, well, not giving a damn never got me very far. But giving a damn got me dead, so. Take your pick, I guess.
[ A laugh bursts out of her, brief and singular but genuine. ]
You're a blurry bunch of shapes, but unless there's something really interesting on the wall behind me, you're looking this way. [ A one-shouldered shrug ] Or you could be going cross-eyed staring at your own nose.
[ he gives her a lazy two-fingered salute before glancing at the bottle. they put a pretty good chunk in it, and he has a good mind to finish it out. ]
Maybe next time you can tell me how you got that name.
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[ but then he's letting out a wobbly sigh anyway in preparation for what's apparently become sharing time. he picks his hat up off the bar and puts it on his head, leaving the gun sitting there. ]
I used to be a cop, on Ceres. I thought that's all there was. Take a bribe, go to work, arrest some scumbags, drink a bottle of scotch and pass out on my couch. I thought that was living.
[ no wonder everyone thought he was suicidal. ]
That enough of a downer for you?
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She gives a little shrug, taking only brief notice of the gun and instead appreciating the hat. ]
The fact that you were a cop says you at one point wanted to do something. Keep people safe, stop corruption, take care of crime on the streets - there was something. Police don't have an easy time of it, even if they're the taking bribes sort. Which that tells me that it was normal for people on Ceres to do things like that, but you did still arrest people, so you've got some sort of moral code you live by.
It doesn't sound like a terrible way to live.
[ She can certainly think of worse ways. Pointing toward the hat, she adds: ] It looks good on you.
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[ miller takes it off his head and dusts it off though there's nothing on it, looking it over. ]
It's a stupid hat, but he loved it. Just showed up here one day, like I'd left it on the bar.
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I'm sorry this place is using those memories against you, but I'm glad you have it again. And personally, I think it's a great hat. Fedoras are classic. People like Frank Sinatra and Indiana Jones always wore fedoras.
[ Nevermind that he probably doesn't know who those people are. ]
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Belters don't have any need for hats, there's no weather on a space station. Sematimba used to say it helped him keep his head, though.
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That's as good a reason as any to wear a hat like that. Who gives a damn if it's weather appropriate.
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Yeah, well, not giving a damn never got me very far. But giving a damn got me dead, so. Take your pick, I guess.
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[ She sure knows how that goes. Watching him for a moment, she shifts in her seat to mirror his position, propped elbow and all. ]
You searching for something, sugar?
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You're a blurry bunch of shapes, but unless there's something really interesting on the wall behind me, you're looking this way. [ A one-shouldered shrug ] Or you could be going cross-eyed staring at your own nose.
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Save my seat for me, sugar. I'll be seeing you again soon.
[ The wobble evens out and she gives him a last smile before heading out. ]
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Maybe next time you can tell me how you got that name.