[ kovacs has been keeping himself busy, and maybe it hasn't entirely been about the mission either. it turns out that bounty hunter work is a lot more suited for him than it probably should be, considering how good he is at the gigs, collecting his awards and watching his reputation skyrocket to respectable levels in a quick flash of time. he likes pulling off things he's skilled at, and in light of everything he's mentally had to endure as of late (returning from a quick trip back home wasn't any kind of pleasure cruise), giving a constant fuck you to the federation in this part of the universe seems plenty suitable to pass the time.
he eventually slips into a bar for a drink (possibly a bar, or just a cafe, or some kind of combination of both, the ad for hard liquor on the window was enough to draw him in), signs of what he's been doing for a living barely a secret with the rough state of his knuckles, full of scrapes, plenty of new scratches upon his cheek and nose.
in the corner of his eye, as he steps towards the counter, he spots a familiar face, a fellow orber doing his own best to blend into society here, no doubt. he nearly snickers at the contrasting appearance between the two of them, clearly at odds with their choice of undercover occupations. ]
You look clean. [ he mutters below his breath, not quite looking kazuma's way, even if there's no doubt the comment is for him. ]
[Kazuma doesn't respond to Kovacs at first, beyond a brief glance in the man's direction to let him know he'd heard the comment. He'd already been feeling out of place before Kovacs' arrival, both because he doesn't make a habit of frequenting bars and because he sticks out like a sore thumb among the place's typical clientele. Only a few months and he's already forgotten how to blend in with a crowd. He'd really hoped he might be able to find some leads in this part of town, but no dice.
Well, he might as well strike up a conversation with someone he knows won't try to pick a fight, as long as he's here. Kazuma manages to make it look coincidental enough when he slides into the seat next to Kovacs, as if the man had no impact whatsoever on Kazuma's sudden decision to sit at the bar.
Nobody's really looking at them, but he keeps his voice quiet anyway.]
[ it's not as if kovacs does too fine of a job at blending in either. when he had more opportunities of switching out between bodies — sleeves, as he'd normally call them — he'd try to take advantage of picking the kinds that best suited whatever undercover position he was going for, whether he knew strength would be an advantage or if it would be stealth or poise. more than a number of times, he'd worn a woman's sleeve, aware that being underestimated based on appearance often worked in his favor.
this, however, this body he's been stuck in for well over a year now, the body of one elias ryker, had a way of drawing too much attention, too tall and bulky to blend properly into the shadows, with a face that had a way of making even the most peaceful personalities want to punch it. if he was ever hopping not to draw eyes, he'd be out of luck, which is why he doesn't really bother trying. ]
Must be the clothes. [ he mutters, like it's half a joke, half advice.
before he's even had a chance to order a drink, he's digging out his carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, slipping one between his lips with a movement as natural as muscle memory before he holds out the box in offering to kazuma, in case there's any interest in taking on. ]
You could throw yourself on the ground for a bit. Roll around in the dirt. Matches up the formal attire around here better.
[He will take a cigarette, with a murmur of thanks. Kazuma doesn't make a habit of smoking, but he won't turn down a vice when offered. He could use the stress release.
At the joke, he smirks in acknowledgment. It's true, Kazuma's attire does tend toward the pristine, which likely isn't doing him any favors down here. Sue him for vanity. At least the bartender is still willing to serve him drinks, for all that she keeps sending suspicious glances their way. (Which is a little unfair, in Kazuma's opinion. There's certainly a mundane explanation for why an apprentice prosecutor and a bounty hunter would be meeting up in an underworld bar. People skip bail all the time.)]
I'll make sure to do my due diligence next time. [The bartender finally wanders out of earshot, and Kazuma releases a sigh.] Perhaps I should take it as a sign and cut my losses. I don't suppose you've had any better luck?
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action; during a matter of import
he eventually slips into a bar for a drink (possibly a bar, or just a cafe, or some kind of combination of both, the ad for hard liquor on the window was enough to draw him in), signs of what he's been doing for a living barely a secret with the rough state of his knuckles, full of scrapes, plenty of new scratches upon his cheek and nose.
in the corner of his eye, as he steps towards the counter, he spots a familiar face, a fellow orber doing his own best to blend into society here, no doubt. he nearly snickers at the contrasting appearance between the two of them, clearly at odds with their choice of undercover occupations. ]
You look clean. [ he mutters below his breath, not quite looking kazuma's way, even if there's no doubt the comment is for him. ]
no subject
Well, he might as well strike up a conversation with someone he knows won't try to pick a fight, as long as he's here. Kazuma manages to make it look coincidental enough when he slides into the seat next to Kovacs, as if the man had no impact whatsoever on Kazuma's sudden decision to sit at the bar.
Nobody's really looking at them, but he keeps his voice quiet anyway.]
Am I that obvious?
no subject
this, however, this body he's been stuck in for well over a year now, the body of one elias ryker, had a way of drawing too much attention, too tall and bulky to blend properly into the shadows, with a face that had a way of making even the most peaceful personalities want to punch it. if he was ever hopping not to draw eyes, he'd be out of luck, which is why he doesn't really bother trying. ]
Must be the clothes. [ he mutters, like it's half a joke, half advice.
before he's even had a chance to order a drink, he's digging out his carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, slipping one between his lips with a movement as natural as muscle memory before he holds out the box in offering to kazuma, in case there's any interest in taking on. ]
You could throw yourself on the ground for a bit. Roll around in the dirt. Matches up the formal attire around here better.
no subject
At the joke, he smirks in acknowledgment. It's true, Kazuma's attire does tend toward the pristine, which likely isn't doing him any favors down here. Sue him for vanity. At least the bartender is still willing to serve him drinks, for all that she keeps sending suspicious glances their way. (Which is a little unfair, in Kazuma's opinion. There's certainly a mundane explanation for why an apprentice prosecutor and a bounty hunter would be meeting up in an underworld bar. People skip bail all the time.)]
I'll make sure to do my due diligence next time. [The bartender finally wanders out of earshot, and Kazuma releases a sigh.] Perhaps I should take it as a sign and cut my losses. I don't suppose you've had any better luck?