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MHA, Poolside, Tuesday

Loki didn't want to sit inside today. It only encouraged boredom and he was done excelling at boredom for the time being. Besides, this place had a fucking pool and, even if it was too cold to really swim, he could sprawl in a chaise lounge and get some sun.

So, that's what he was doing. The pool was uncovered in case someone was insane enough to want to swim (or maybe he'd get really fucking lucky and two girls (or two guys, he wasn't picky)) would come by and start wrestling and fall into the pool.

Of course, that brought thoughts of wet t-shirt contests and Loki smiled. It wasn't such a bad day. Hopefully it stayed this way.

[Open! Should anyone need a place to stay, Loki will still rent apartments. MHA info post is here.]

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Make Loki do some fucking work!

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Second floor: 4
Fourth floor: 9

Edited 2008-11-11 20:06 (UTC)

For those that either wanna chat or wanna use the pool for whatever reason!

Sarah came back from her morning jog, slowly unwinding the scarf from around her neck. It was one of about six layers of fleece and spandex, and somehow she was still cold. She'd forgotten, or gone into denial, that it got cold so early on the east coast.

She eyed the pool hopefully. "Morning! I didn't know the pool was heated."

It had to be for him to be hanging out here, right?

"I don't know if it is either," he said, squinting over at Sarah. "I haven't actually gone in. I just did my hair and all."

No, he hadn't. He just liked sarcasm.

Sarah squinted at his hair. "I can tell," she finally said, even though to hr it looked about the same as it had when he rented her the apartment. "It's all ... messy in the good way."

He laughed and peered up towards his hair even if he knew that would do nothing but give him a damn headache.

"Think so?" He'd always thought of his hair as haphazardly neat. "Messy's in for the fall season? I don't follow all that fashion shit."

"I'm not an expert on the men's side, but I think it still is?" Sarah guessed. "You know, no comb, just gel and your fingers and a bunch of time in front of the mirror. Whatever you did, it suits you."

She pulled off a glove and knelt to dip her hand in the water.

"Well, thanks," he said and smiled. "I'll keep it up since it's not making me look like some idiot from Toledo or something who doesn't know the difference between fucking shampoo and lotion. How's it going with you?"

Sarah dipped her hand in the pool experimentally, shivered, and dried it on her pants before pulling the glove back on. "It doesn't feel heated," she reported. "And me? I'm ... you know, it's really quiet here. Weird, but quiet. It's taking some time to get used to." By which she meant she was bored out of her skull. "How are you?"

"Quiet doesn't usually last, I've found," he said. "People wish and wish for quiet but then they get bored and they want something to do so something happens and then they wish for more fucking quiet. Double edged sword. And me? I'm fine. Making friends and succeeding in business and all that trite shit."

Sarah snorted in agreement. She had never wished for quiet, but ... "You sound like you're talking about somebody I used to work with," she said. "Though, to be fair, usually when something happens it's something bad."

"I need to learn more about my business before I can succeed," she admitted. "They make price guides for action figures, right?" And good lord was that information she never, ever thought she would need to have.

"Action what?" Loki opened his eyes and looked over at Sarah fully now. "Where the hell are you working?"

"Action figures," she repeated, as a flush rose in her cheeks. "You know, little dolls of comic book and TV characters for boys. Somebody told me Saturday that they're worth actual money, and I have a bunch at Android's Dungeon."

She gave him a wry look. "I kind of inherited my business."

"You work at a freaking hobby shop?" Loki took that in and then nodded. "Gotta say, I didn't expect that. I don't know anything about action figures other than the fact that they really fucking hurt when you step on them and you're barefoot."

"It wasn't my career goal, but it beats Wienerlicious," Sarah said dryly. "And I found that one out. Also that they all come with a bunch of tiny accessories that are really important to the customers."

"First...what the hell's a Wienerlicious?" Loki asked. "Second, can you really expect anything less from nerds and geeks and goobers?"

"Southern California's gourmet hot dog shop," Sarah said, irony tinging her voice, and an illustrative hand gesture accompanied her next sentence. "The uniforms are down to here and up to there and I had to wear pigtails. It was very glamorous."

She made a face. "What were you doing before you started landlording?"

"Ah, such a loaded question, that one," he said, tilting his head at her. "I started hinting at my past to a local officer of the law and I don't think I made her very happy. I definitely didn't work at no freaking Wienerlicious."

Ooooh, way to pique Sarah's interest. "You can't even give me a hint?" she pouted. "I am not an officer of the law."

Being a secret agent was completely and totally different.

"I could outright tell you," he said and grinned. It was a little sly, a little mischievous and a lot secretive. "But what's the fun in that?"

"I'll weasel it out of you eventually," she said, flashing a grin of her own to hide some frustration. She wished she could just point Chuck at him, but a)that was cheating and b)it wouldn't work anyhow. Stupid multiple universes.

"I'll give you the same hint as I gave the officer of the law," he decided. "I was a cleaner...of sorts."

That would get the attention of the law, all right. Sarah hadn't done a ton of Mafia work -- that was more the FBI's game -- but she knew the slang. And "cleaner" in mob terms could mean a couple of things, none of them exactly pleasant.

Not that he'd said he'd been with the mob, but it made sense. She kept her voice utterly neutral as she framed her next question, watching his eyes to see how he'd take it.

"You were with a Family?"

Metatron would flip his shit if Loki ever told someone they were related.

Which is exactly why Loki said, "Yes. The First family."

Because they sort of were. Words were elastic things.

To Sarah, that confirmed her Mafia theory, although she had no idea who was running around calling themselves the First Family these days. She'd have to check on that.

She also thought that the agents in charge of Witness Protection needed to do a better job of teaching low-rent hit men to stay undercover. Honestly, if she'd gotten it without really trying...

"That's definitely no freaking Wienerlicious."

"It really isn't," he said and smiled at her. "But, I'm retired now, living the good life out here in his rinky dink town and running a fucking apartment building. That's the dream, isn't it?"

"That is what I'm told," Sarah said slowly, not really believing it. "Enjoy retirement."

"Well, I don't have any action figures or nothing," he teased. "So, I'm definitely lacking there but I'm trying."

"You picked the wrong line of work for action figures, Loki," Sarah told him, eyes wide. "I could give you a discount on one at the comics shop if you'd like."

"Got any recommendations?" Loki asked. "What's in season for action figures this year?"

"The girl at the Monthly Market said this one type was worth $40 if it was in the box," Sarah reported, incredulous. "I'll try to find one of those and put it off to the side."

"Forty fucking dollars for some plastic?" Loki asked, eyes wide. "What the hell, world? I shouldn't be surprised. People collect fucking stamps and they're worth more than my fucking life sometimes."

Ronon emerged from his basement apartment whistling a Satedan love song. Feeling good, he headed over when he spotted people by the pool.

"Still no room service?" Joking, joking.

"Pepper Potts," he said quickly, hoping Pepper didn't actually stab him with a shoe when she found out about his volunteering her for stuff. "She lives in the building. I think she'll cook you whatever the fuck you want if you're nice. She does windows too."

"Nice," Ronon smiled and threw his large frame onto a lounger. His gigantic boots and leather pants were a strange look for poolside hanging out but he felt entirely comfortable. "I gotta meet this Pepper girl. Sounds like a condiment."

"You won't think that when you meet her," Loki said, closing his eyes and remembering that sight fondly. "She has got some fucking legs on her. Oh, to see those legs again."

"Yeah?" Cooking and legs, Ronon could appreciate that. "What floor's she on?"

"She's..." God, like Loki kept track. "Third or fourth. One of those. She wasn't too fond of bunking with me so I had to give her some empty apartment. I cried about that one."

"You try to get all the girls to bunk with you?" That earned a raised eyebrow.

"Just the really fucking hot ones," he replied. "Come on, I've got the chromosomes, I'm gonna use them. And the women here are just really goddamn hot."

Ronon laughed. "Yeah, but they got taste."

"And I have stamina," he said smugly. "And I'm really goddamn cute."

He was!

Ronon looked him over. "Uh huh. You should be in a pageant."

"I have been." Not a lie, things were really fucking different in the past. "Didn't win. Fucking set up."

Ronon laughed heartily again, deciding Loki was good entertainment. "Should have one here, maybe you'd win this time."

"I think you just wanna see me dazzle people," Loki guessed. "You'll get none of that unless you fucking bribe me or...enter yourself."

"I like competition," Ronon replied. "But a pageant?"

"What?" Loki asked, smirking at Ronon. "You afraid to shake your fucking monkeymaker?"

I'm at work. Tis sad. Send love or boredom curing stuff!

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MHA, Poolside, Tuesday

Rent an Apartment!

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OOC