WELCOME TO NEXUS.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

Strife was grateful that Nord hadn't noted the unfortunate 'demise' of the lovely item she'd been exploring. If he hadn't heard it, then none of the baseline children in here could have possibly hear it either. It didn't matter, to her, not really, but it'd draw attention. Destroying things you hadn't paid for was probably frowned upon and she wouldn't be able to 'handle' it in her usual manner. So she had to try and be on her best behavior, really try. Her mate's happiness, or state of content at least, depended upon her mental state. The woman paused to snort at that unfortunate truth. Anyway, Nord's state of content depended upon her behavior and a psychotic break would probably break him just as much as her. So she had to behave, not get into situations that would require patience she didn't have or a delicacy she often wasn't interested in displaying.

Would their complete self be better here? Strife asked herself that question with every move, every thought. Is this something his Silver Fox could do? Maybe she could, maybe she could have walked in here, picked some things, paid, and walked right out. Maybe this would be a complete non-issue for Silver Fox. But for Strife..Strife who was still more wild and freshly caged than the pacing beast in a box. Strife wasn't Silver Fox. Not yet.

"Always tomorrow," he agreed easily. Good, he didn't sound upset or too suspicious. "Plenty of stores to visit. Outfits to see." Yes, plenty of stores, plenty of outfits, plenty of..time. Did they really have that? Plenty of time. No, they both knew that they were on borrowed time, life had never been kind to them in truth. No, life demanded that at some point, some very inconvenient point in a future that they'd always find far too close..they'd run out of time and someone would come for them. But neither would speak out, never say such a sobering and depressing thing. "Yes, plenty of time while we're on vacation." And it was better that way; now they could both pretend a little while - for themselves and for each other.

The German man took her hand. Strife stared, this wasn't exactly something done to her often, but didn't pull away. It was..new..but nice. New, but nice, this holding hands thing. She focused on that, his hand holding hers, warming hers, and pushed the disjointed, bad thoughts away. Saved again. "Don't worry about money, but," he paused to smile amusedly - "try not to buy too many things that cost thousands of dollars."

"Tch. You say that, but these are just as much for you as they are for me." Idly, Strife took a swift glance at the items they had, the price tags to be exact. She hadn't paid any attention when pointing at them, hadn't given them a second thought. She was trained to take what she she was supposed to be getting and 'take care of' anyone that tried to stop her. But there was a 'decorum' here. Rules, laws, common decency... There'd be no taking and walking off here. Nord gave her a carefully non-demanding tug, saying they could rest and finish shopping tomorrow.

She nodded. Yes, that was a great idea. Because even with Nord' calming influence, she was only just so much in check. It'd only take just so much more, right now, to send her spiraling back to that dangerous part of her again. And while Strife had left several forms of weaponry in that safe, she obviously wouldn't have left it all. Strife didn't need a full arsenal to tear this place apart. He led them to the register and did her very best to completely ignore the nervous little thing at the register. She half looked like she had expected Strife to stroll on out and the feral would bet money that she wouldn't do a thing. But that wasn't the point and Strife briefly felt a smug satisfaction at doing what was clearly against expectations..but in a good and non-destructive way.

"Doesn't take long," he said lightly, keeping things easy. His companion was a time bomb and these people were more familiar with irate tourists than deadly ferals. It wouldn't end well for anyone if Strife were to lose it. The girl carefully set the items, wrapped in tissue paper and placed in a lovely pink and black bag, on the counter. Carefully, as if Strife might reach out and do something, she pushed the bag towards the other. Strife took inordinate pleasure in staring at the bag and then looking at the girl contemplatively. She held this look for some time, sadist, before slowly taking the bag by its dainty little strings. She abruptly yanked it off the counter and the girl jumped. Strife smiled, amused in a not nice way. "Have a nice day," she said with a tilted head and ice-smooth sarcasm.

They left and Strife casually observed, "I think I made them nervous." Ironically, on some small level, Strife had been equally nervous. Hers was more about not screwing things up and upsetting Nord, while the store clerks had just been trying not to instigate anything with the foreign woman that looked like she could break them in two. Strife thought about the experience and then thought about repeating it, but in stores with clothing they could wear publicly. ... Theoretically, it should get easier with each store. Just stick close to Nord and don't think, go with whatever he's talking about.

"Oh..we forgot to get you something," she said - something Nord was probably grateful for. Too bad! "We'll get you something tomorrow." Oh..did that sound cheeky? Oops, but wouldn't he be just thrilled that she remembered? Go spandex!

[Mystic Frost]

As they drift out and away from the shop, Nord drew closer to Strife before his hand slipped from her's and about the woman's back to cradle the other side. Gently steering their bodies together, side by side, he continued to walk with her down the street in the direction of their hotel. "That's all right," the German replied calmly, tugging her close. He turned his head toward her slightly, trying not to pay attention to their surroundings, watching her with the faintest of smiles. "No one got hurt." Physically. Mentally or emotionally? He'd just have to overlook it. Couldn't expect Fox to change overnight and pushing her too much now would probably hurt her.

A soft chuckle at her remembering the outfit she had in mind. "I suppose there's no way out of it. Gives you more time to think of something even more creative," he mused aloud, not exactly wanting something more creative; but if it helped distract Fox and draw her back from the tight line she walked maybe she could piece together...something. Not being educated on these matters wasn't helping. They should look for help, but again who would they contact? Seemed increasingly likely they'd have to ask them. They, of course, had him. Maybe that other group? Emma Frost? They really were in trouble.

"What do you think about the things you bought?" Drawing his thoughts away from unpleasant topics, Nord tried stepping back into their little illusion. "Any favorite?" Could wait until they got to the room, which wouldn't be long now, but talking about it seemed more conversational than asking what she'd like to do tomorrow. Tomorrow? They still had to make it through the night and if she tried anything aggressive they might have a late start. Something to look forward to, right?

It was... still Fox, after all. Silver Fox had jumped him before, so any intentions on part of her were reflective of the whole just in different means, methods, or motives. The German's hand kept them pressed close together as they neared the hotel. Nord was fighting blind trying to help Fox mentally; the least he could do was make sure he didn't lose track of her body. "We could order something to drink on our way up," to make the night pass more smoothly. Not that it'd really do much besides offer that faux catalyst to an otherwise interesting series of events? Or they could pass out, exhausted, but despite how tired he felt Nord didn't want to collapse like a puppet with its strings cut. What time they had it'd be nice if he could give Fox something she normally wouldn't experience or, perhaps, even want to.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

Nord let go of her hand only to draw her close to him as they walked along. She noted again, that she couldn't really smell him. It irked her. Smell was such an integral part of how she, as a feral, took in the world. It disturbed Strife not to be able to smell her mate. Maybe she should spray him in something. The woman briefly considered how Nord may or may not be okay with her coating him in a scent for her own personal comforts. Truthfully, it was a great advantage, having no scent. Confounding to ferals and the like, but a great tactical advantage.

"That's all right," he assured her. Calm, steady tones meant to comfort his more, ah, unstable high-strung [?] companion. "No one got hurt."

This time, she added snidely in her head. Monster; this is why you aren't meant to be out among normal humans. No one other than you would be upset by the situation. She would have to do better for her mate.

"I suppose there's no way out of it. Gives you more time to think of something even more creative," he said in response to her absent fixation on trussing him up in something he doubtlessly find uncomfortable. He asked about the things that had been purchased, if she particularly favored any one of them. Discord blue orbs stared at him contemplatively before looking down at the bag whose strings she clutched in one hand. "Favorite?" she echoed. Strife thought over the purchases, the colors and types. Lacy little things that subbed as underwear. "I like the red kimono." It'd felt so damn /soft/ and silky and she'd have to remember that Nord said that these weren't meant to be worn around others.

"Which one did you like best?" She got the sense that these items could be as much for him as for her. He seemed to like the idea of her in them. Promising yes?

The hotel loomed ahead and he pulled her in just that much closer. Strife assumed he liked having her very close - either to ensure she didn't go wandering off or because he liked her smell. While she couldn't smell him, he could smell her. Ah..but scents weren't a big thing for him. Could he still tell? Speaking of which.."I've been meaning to ask, why don't you have a scent?" Her mind resumed plotting how to remedy that fact without causing Nord undue worry. Granted, he might worry about the simple fact that she was thinking of doing something, but that wasn't the point right now.

"We could order something to drink on our way up," he offered. Oh they couldn't get drunk, but going through the motions was nice sometimes too. Or did he mean more food? No, he probably meant drinks. They had already eaten. "Let's do that," she acquiesced. "Are there certain drinks you like?" As far as Strife's memory went, she didn't have a preference since none of it helped or hurt. In the future, or if she ever regained her complete self, it could be noted that Silver Fox had no love for sugar sweet drinks. Depending on what Nord chose, Strife might have to discover that the hard way.

[Mystic Frost]

Nord smiled, listening to Fox's reply. The kimono? Sounded like the one she'd pick. "I could choose that one, but I also liked the purple one," he replied, leaving the blue one as a nice choice but not one either of them had strong feelings about. It did best match her eyes, of course. Black would better match her darker skin and eyes, but she'd gone with color; the red probably blended in or brought out the caramel of her body. Red was certainly a good color for her. It would warn people that saw her coming she was trouble.

"I've been meaning to ask, why don't you have a scent?"

Her next question wasn't one he'd expected and it caused him to look over at her for a moment in silence as he shifted his thoughts on a completely different topic. "Mutant ability," he replied simply before giving her a broad smile, "can't turn it off like so many others." He wasn't lying, but Nord didn't want to tell her the story behind it. Not now. Weren't they having a pleasant evening? Did she really want to hear the words "Weapon X" or, better yet, why Weapon X did it? "I was 'enhanced' to kill mutants like you and Logan," would be romantic wouldn't it? Just saying "Weapon X" might get her thinking about why all on her own and lead to that answer. Couldn't they save the details for another time? Even if it was tomorrow? Time would tell; he wasn't entirely sure the omission and cover had been all that convincing. It was true enough, however, it was a mutant ability.

Then back to their pleasure. Drinks? Again his thoughts shifted, trying to pretend nothing had happened. "Schnaps. Brandy. Lagers. Those remind me of Germany. Beer is more common throughout the world. Some countries better than others." Of course, in the past, they'd had more beer than anything else thanks to a certain wild badger of a man. Canadian beer. Like the man never drank anything else. About as single minded in his beer as everything else. "What about you? Do you remember trying any of those before? We could stop by the bar to try some before heading up to the room."

[~*Silver Fox*~]

She told him that she liked the red kimono best, as in best guess, and Nord seemed to like the choice. He said that that one was good, but, additionally, he liked the purple item. Her mind immediately supplied the fact that the purple one was the violet corset outfit. So he fancied her in that did he? She smirked. While Nord was more informed on complimentary colors and such, Strife's mind only registered what she didn't want. She could, at the very least, selectively determine what styling she favored. Why she was drawn to the kimono was unknown, even to her. Maybe it was an unconscious preference? Silver Fox might be into kimonos and so, when drawing a blank in the store, she may have...'defaulted'?

Defaulting. Should she say something?

"Mutant ability," he said simply. Ah, it figured. So there wasn't anything that could be done to make it stop. She imagined it as part of some natural set, maybe, probably, enhanced by Weapon X. Or it could be fabricated entirely. It was probably meant as a check to Weapon X's golden boy. Or a leash. You'd likely never find a better shot than Maverick. Add in no scent and you had a problem.

What did he like? "Schnaps. Brandy. Lagers. Those remind me of Germany. Beer is more common throughout the world. Some countries better than others."

"German alcohol," she paraphrased while filing away the preference for future reference. Beer indeed seemed to be found just about everywhere. Universally-recognized alcohol. She remembered, in her apparently very limited memory set, drinking great quantities of alcohol. "What about you? Do you remember trying any of those before? We could stop by the bar to try some before heading up to the room."

"I remember beer, lots of beer. It was always easily accessible and whenever I went to bars, that's the drink I received most often without charge." Pretty ladies never pay for drinks. Not that she made a habit of paying for things anyway. Pretty ladies with pretty big guns never pay for anything. Free alcohol, either by free will or sheer fear. What? So she got a little pissed offplayful sometimes. It didn't matter that she was entirely sober, it was all in good fun. Well, she had found it entertaining at least.

The dark-haired feral slowed her walking, until it almost seemed that she'd stop altogether, a pensive frown on her face. "Actually, I don't recall actively paying for anything except weapons." Thoughtful look. "Perhaps you were onto something when you warned me of walking off with things I haven't paid for. Do you know if Silver Fox was a proficient thief?" Perhaps she was the start of that particular skill? "I also recall drinking large amounts of vodka." So those, perhaps, weren't preferences so much as most frequently imbibed beverages, but it was close enough right? Preference, preference...Strife was blanking--

"And Everclear. I think I like Everclear, but you can only get that in the States. I don't think I've had much foreign alcohol." No time? Strife and Isis hadn't been globe-trotting much. That came later when Silver Fox ditched the team, made a run for it that first time around. Weapon X hadn't been ready to loosen the leash enough for her to be running around the globe frequently. Silver Fox, later on, did become quite the jet-setter, but Strife wouldn't know that. Strife also wouldn't know that Silver Fox was fond of Everclear and that she found it highly inconvenient that the United States, and Canada, didn't like to share. But Strife wasn't concerned with that, she was wondering about the answer her brain had suddenly supplied. Was that Isis' influence? Her mental 'twin' could be screwing with her. But calling for the other got her nothing. She was either being ignored to the highest degree or...she'd 'defaulted'. Drew a blank and Silver Fox, somewhere in there, dropped in something.

Strife wasn't sure if she found that disturbing or not. If she was right, should she probably tell Nord. This could be a sign, a lead, on how to get his Silver Fox back. Conversely, she could be wrong. Paranoid. Grasping at straws, as the saying went. Did she even want Silver Fox, their complete self, to return? Didn't that mean she'd..'die'? That they - the rest of the remnants - would die? Did they 'merge' or disappear as if they'd never been? She'd thought before that it didn't matter, that it was fine. It was all the same right? But she was standing her with Nord, a bag of lingerie in one hand. She wasn't thinking about missions or killing or if someone was about to kill her. Okay, so maybe she was covertly keeping an eye out, but that was just habit. She could /think/, damn it; think thoughts not overrun by death, how to cause it, and how to evade it. Ignoring all other circumstances - running from Sinister, her broken mind, him trying to juggle his needs and her psychosis - it was damn near normal.

Call it selfish, but Strife was suddenly unsure of whether or not she wanted to give this up. Technically, on some level, she wouldn't be. But on the level Strife was sitting on now, it felt like she would be. And that, now, felt unacceptable. Let's just hope I'm being paranoid. Fortunately, on some level, she was being paranoid. This wasn't her 'defaulting' to Silver Fox. That'd be weird because Nord had asked her several questions that she didn't know the answer to, wanted to give him an answer to and couldn't. So why no answer then? Thus, not in danger of Silver Fox's abrupt mental recovery! Yay? Unfortunately, she was also wrong on some level. Someone was selectively filling in blanks. It just wasn't Silver Fox.

Not liking where her train of thought was going, Strife attempted to get back on track with Nord. "The alcohol here in Spain, have you had it? Do they have special kinds that you can only find here?" That could be interesting, interesting in that it'd be distracting. And Strife needed distracting.

[Mystic Frost]

Nord looked over at Fox with a knowing, glazed look. Yes, there'd always been copious amounts of beer. Being the only one in the group that wasn't a raging beast with a metabolism rivaling that of Galactus, however, the German wasn't as liberal with alcohol as the rest. Besides, someone had to stay "sober" around them; not that they could, or often did, get drunk. Fox meant in other ways, which he also wouldn't doubt. "The easiest, cheapest to find," he replied, expecting people buying her drinks wouldn't be at the cost of their meager savings. Certainly the least potent, but then if they could barely get drunk on the heavy stuff the alcohol content probably didn't matter to ferals.

When Strife drew to a crawl, the Mercenary stopped and looked over at her curiously. The dawning realization she didn't pay for things seemed to have surfaced. A faint smile tugged at his lips as witness of this occasion. "Thief?" A reflective pause. "Yes. Cat Burgler? No." Yes Fox could sneak in and sneak out if she wanted, he was sure, it was just that Fox didn't. "You spent too much time and money on your weapons to not use them," Nord explained the lack of subtlety or finesse he was sure she was capable of it or when she put her mind to it. Someone as sexy and limber as her couldn't be bad as a silent thief or assassin.

She continued, mulling over a sizable portion of the topic returning to her without any couching or prompting, which impressed him. "Everclear?" He gave her a grunt. "You were happy staying in the States drinking that weren't you?" She wouldn't remember, but he'd laugh anyway. "You might remember it better if the bar around here had some, but you know it won't be. We'll buy some later. You'll love it." Something to look forward to, he thought. Eventually the vacation would end and they'd need to go on a little tour to help Strife remember more about herself. Things she'd forgotten; things she didn't know she knew. Just the details that made Fox Fox.

"I thought you wouldn't ask," her compatriot replied playfully. Fox without alcohol? More for the taste he was sure. Perhaps the burning. Tonight they could drown themselves in merriment. Tomorrow they could die; not that Nord ever planned on that. Not more than a handful of times in life anyway. "I'm sure they'll have a local flavor you'll appreciate. Just remember if you break any bottles not to do it on or inside someone. Hit them, if you have to, but no bottles," he cautioned, giving her a heavy gaze to make sure if Strife got into a scuffle she didn't gut a man in public. Old habits died hard.

Taking her hand and giving it a squeeze, Nord smiled and tipped his head toward the bar at the hotel. "Come on. We won't have anything to drink out here."

As they neared their destination, however, he looked over at Strife one more time. "You want to take the things upstairs first, or would you like me to?" They could keep them down their in the bar, but if it'd be in the way...

[~*Silver Fox*~]

"The easiest, cheapest to find," Nord commented.

"Mm." It was probably true, but Strife wasn't exactly a connoisseur of alcoholic beverages. And she wasn't hugely picky. Hard to swing that when the alcohol never did its job anyway. As with so many other things, all the woman could tell you was what she didn't like - taste. No need to worry about being drunk out of her mind, so what else was there? Taste, 'feel'. She did kind of like the burn down, though the continuous stinging.

She came around to asking if Silver Fox had a reoccurring problem taking things that weren't hers without permission and without the intent of giving it back. "Thief?" -- "Yes. Cat Burgler? No." Nord admitted that she could and had stolen, but it wasn't a side job, a profession in the making. "You spent too much time and money on your weapons to not use them," he said further.

"You say that as though it's bad." It made perfect sense to Strife who, even with her reduced set of memories, completely agreed. Weapons were good, having them was great, and using them was even better. If she had a weapon, that meant she didn't have to be used as a weapon. She could be a person with a weapon, not a weapon/science project. Or that's how it worked out in her mind. It was the core subconscious logic behind Silver Fox's perhaps slightly unhealthy love for every weapon under the sun. It was why she couldn't be bothered to spend decent money on a standard wardrobe, food, transportation, or steady shelter; but, she'd be happy to drop large sums on the latest and greatest weapon on the market.

Or not on the market, if you catch my drift.

"Everclear?" -- "You were happy staying in the States drinking that weren't you?"

Was she? Strife looked at her mate curiously and wasn't disappointed when he elaborated. Was this a funny thing? He seemed amused. "You might remember it better if the bar around here had some, but you know it won't be. We'll buy some later. You'll love it."

Strife nodded, having no problem in assuming that Nord would be correct. It was something Silver Fox would balk at and, on some level, Strife did too. When did she become so dependent? Sure, she could level this town in terms of life force. That is, kill every last soul in this place or come uncomfortably close to pulling it off. But everything else? She had a mind, a memory, locked in the past. This world, this time period, this man next to her - all new, all things she should be regarding with suspicion and caution from a distance. But she wasn't. She was walking, comfortably close to his warmth. Yes, it was annoying that she couldn't smell him. Highly annoying. But she could feel him and he was warm when she held onto him and vice-versa. But shouldn't tha--

"I thought you wouldn't ask," he said. Teasing. Distracting. He had excellent timing, this man here.

She huffed. "Very funny."

"I'm sure they'll have a local flavor you'll appreciate. Just remember if you break any bottles not to do it on or inside someone. Hit them, if you have to, but no bottles," came the warning. One could almost think he was kind of joking, teasing her again, but...no, not really. Strife, while cooperative and non-homicidal right now, was the more volatile of the remnants, short of 'The Beast' that the other remnants so desperately wanted to keep contained. Anyway, Strife was quite mentally unstable. She could be fine one minute and just snap the next. It wouldn't be good for a woman with her abilities to suffer a psychotic break in a bar. But that's what Nord was for, to distract her mind from venturing down paths of destruction.

Now what about people simply pissing her off? Nothing to do with her mental instability or being prone to violence. Well that's what the warning was for. Everything was a weapon once you put it in the feral ex-mercenary's hands. Strife could kill someone with this little tote bag of lingerie if she really wanted to do so. Imagine what she could do if angry, or even just a little ticked off, with a bottle - broken or not, probably didn't matter - in hand. That was the scenario Nord most likely didn't want to happen.

He took her hand - should she be so fascinated by that? Because she kind of was - and directed her towards the hotel's bar. Couldn't wander to a public one with a bag of lingerie in hand right? Well Strife could and, if not stopped, would, but Nord knew public protocol better. Or had the moral/ethical/whatever compass to actually consider it.

"You want to take the things upstairs first, or would you like me to?"

Strife almost said she'd take it, but suddenly found that an internal part of her was vehemently protesting. Both options meant that she'd be by herself with..with..these /people/. People and sounds and fragile things and no Nord-buffer to protect the world from her. If he went somewhere or she went somewhere, who would keep the monster in check? "I..I'd rather keep it with me." Belatedly, she offered an explanation that didn't involve telling him that she was relying on him to keep the monster on a leash. She felt that perhaps that would upset him and she was trying to avoid that.

"What? Do you think someone will rob me?" Probably yet another scenario that Nord would prefer didn't happen.

[Mystic Frost]

Nord looked over at Fox with a smile before giving her a tug on the hand as he turned in toward her. The German whispered just between the two of them, "Why would I be worried about that? I'm the only one in the city that could fight you and I'd much rather do other things with you." Anyone else would be crushed and probably killed. Murder would draw the police, but it wouldn't be like Fox had sought someone out foolish enough to try and mug, rape, or kill her. Well, she might if she got bored. Something Nord would have to monitor.

"Come on, then," he invited, still holding her hand as he set off toward the bar and to leave the lobby behind. Nothing interesting to see or do out there. As for the bag, he didn't care; just thought it'd be something that might get in the way. Not in that sense, of course. Be a bit too kinky to feel each other up in public. Their room was just upstairs anyway. It was a topic they'd yet to actually discuss--Fox's more erotic preferences. There hadn't really been a chance before Egypt and everything after was a mess.

Gesturing for the man behind the counter to get Strife and him drinks, Nord found them a private table. Pulling out the chair for her, Nord gave Strife a polite, but expectant smile. How many times had people done this for her, he wondered? How many times had she even given them the chance? She seemed to be handling everything well enough for him to keep throwing out "normal" things for her to learn from. Didn't mean she'd adopt all these rituals and acts in the future, but it might help her understand the people around her later. You know, allow her to blend in and not be so conspicuous. Her striking looks all ready drew enough eyes.

After he sat down in his own chair, a waitress brought over their drinks. "What do you think so far? Our first night and we've done things neither of us has done in a long time." He wondered what she liked, didn't like, and hadn't understood. Was she even thinking about what they were doing or why and whether she'd ever do it again? Nord was curious just what Fox was thinking about; after all, she seemed to have a thoughtful expression at times, especially back in the lobby.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

Nord seemed satisfied with her crafted explanation as to why she wasn't interested in either of them taking the bag upstairs. Well, it wasn't really an explanation so much as some misdirection. Her query could easily be seen as a small joke or sarcasm or maybe she could be serious - what with her 'condition' and all. She didn't know what he took it as, but it made him smile. That was good right? She liked to see him smile; it meant that she was being a good mate or at least good company. Which was..also important for a good mate. I think. What did she know about it anyway?

"Why would I be worried about that? I'm the only one in the city that could fight you and I'd much rather do other things with you."

Strife smirked an eerily familiar smirk - Fox when she was about to get something she wanted very much, but with a semi-pervy edge. Her mind had immediately wondered if they ever had crossed guns before, but it seemed like a bad question. It'd upset him, most likely. The answer was probably something neither of them would enjoy, but she didn't /know/ damn it. She didn't know and she wanted to know. But I won't ask, she reminded herself again, firmly. It'd be bad. It was bad and she was trying to be good.

A good little monster.

"Come on, then," he said, heading for the bar with her hand in his. She followed dutifully, good little monster on her leash. Strife wondered if Nord worried, being around a monster, holding her hand and trying to teach her how real people live. He might be as crazy as I am. If that was the case, then there might be nothing to worry about at all. Monster cancelled out by insanity? It would likely take someone not quite sane to take on the monumental task that Nord had taken upon himself. Then again, had he really asked for this? Who would request to love a monster? Or several, since his situation was equivalent to dealing with multiple people. Poor man, life just wasn't fair. At least she had no intentions of betraying him and all they knew right?

They went to a private table. Strife was going to sit, but her mate beat her to it - pulling it out for her. He gave her a little smile, reassurance. This was a normal thing to do, nothing to analyze a million times over or make difficult. Well, the make difficult part was all her - she'd hold up the whole simple process with her confusion. Cold analyzing was more like Isis and Strife was growing a little... Not worried, no. It made her uneasy, her the silence of her 'twin'. Later. She'd figure it out later, when Nord wasn't trying to reintroduce her to life.

Strife cooperated and sat down like a good feral and looked around. This..was doable. Not a lot of people right now. That meant not a lot of reasons for her to grow agitated. Not a lot of things that could set her off, tip over that already delicate balance between 'docile' and 'destructive'. Maybe it'd be fine. And maybe Nord would think she was just looking around innocently instead of scouting for entrances, exits, possible threats, and how she'd get out of here in a pinch while destroying as much as possible with minimal damage to herself if any at all.

Maybe?

"What do you think so far? Our first night and we've done things neither of us has done in a long time."

Strife didn't reply immediately. She wasn't sure how to answer that question. While Nord was trying to reintroduce her to regular carrying on without overwhelming her, Strife was trying to ensure that her mate did not have reason to think that she was overwhelmed. Was it effective, having two people trying to make the other comfortable? Either both people would be comfortable or they'd respectively wear themselves out trying to help the other. Let's see how it goes.

"I..I find it all very odd." What a horrid answer, but he wouldn't like it if she lied right? "Are these the things people do all of the time? All of them live so leisurely?" They were trapped in cages and regularly sent out to what would be certain death for normal soldiers...while these people - what? - shopped and drank and walked on beaches? Breathe. Breathe. That's not the point, remember? What would Fox, his Fox say, as a woman? He's not asking the monster, he's asking the woman. Now answer the damn question and give him a normal answer this time.

"It's different." Honest, but not bad right? "It's..a pleasant kind of 'different'. If we can do these types of things without worrying about being hunted all the time," - or her snapping, or possibly him cracking, or another remnant gaining control, or the Beast escaping, or wondering if the true Silver Fox would ever come back or be whole again - "then that wouldn't be bad at all I think. Just little, 'normal', activities should be fine without being confusing or too much." Beyond memories, Strife had basic time gaps to cover. New inventions - technology, laws, clothes, food, places, things - all new to her. "No need to run around trying to discover - rediscover - everything at once right?" No rush. They had..all the time in the world now. She guessed. He guessed.

They guessed because neither of them wanted to think about the invisible clock - tick tock tick /tock/ - counting down to..to..something. It didn't matter what, but it would be something that shattered this vacation, this fragile - dare it be typed - /peace/.

[Mystic Frost]

"Some of them," Nord softly corrected Fox. "Many don't have all of these luxuries, and some have none." Those with their skills were paid well and lived well; mostly because they might not be alive tomorrow. Testament of their caliber or their ability to survive they'd lived as long as they had. Sooner or later they'd have to jump back into things; find jobs, get paid. Even if they were self-employed they'd still enjoy more than their share of danger. Not much to do about it either.

The German smiled for Fox, reaching over to take her hand. "No need to rush." He fully expected something would happen to disrupt their little get away. Thrown into some mess that'd be all too familiar. Perhaps a gun battle would do Fox good, but given the chance he had hoped to try something different for a change. Finding a fight would be easy. Getting time to just sit there, looking into Fox's eyes, was hard. Even Fox herself was too mobile to just relax. She was comfortable in that lifestyle...or so he assumed since it was all anyone ever gave her.

"You should choose the next thing we do," Nord continued on that thought. "Familiar or new. Just nothing that gets our faces on the Wanted ads." If no one could identify them then they couldn't end up on wanted posters/lists. Nord could read between the lines, sitting there, watching the woman as she tried to play along. Really, he didn't assume she was picking this up as they went without some discomfort. Even her questions pointed out how unfamiliar the topics were; and he imagined how uncomfortable such things must be.

Picking up his drink, Nord paused with it in his hand. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?" Lifting it the rest of the way he took a drink, trying to prepare himself for whatever she might want to discuss. She couldn't keep the mittens on forever; sooner or later Fox was going to need to come out about the hard topics. There was taking it easy, and then there was deluding one's self.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

"Some of them," -- "Many don't have all of these luxuries, and some have none."

Ah yes, the poor. The impoverished. The have-nots. She supposed that those were the unfortunate souls that Maverick was referring to. Strife knew, of course, that there were pitifully poor people out there. No reliable means of obtaining food or clean water. No shelter that they could consistently count on or means to acquire it. Far from having a decent wardrobe, there were those that had only the clothes on their backs - often not in the best of shape. Shoes? Luxury. The trash was their supermarket, the occasional kindness of others their source of income. Yes, Strife knew of the poor, of poverty.

"I wonder what would be preferable - poverty or imprisonment." Yes, she could live comfortably now, but at what cost? Would she rather be poor over being a monster? Struggle to live or..struggle to live. She would have to struggle one way or another right? But she would have her mind, her body - all whole. She could be a more reasonable, less troublesome choice for a mate. But being poor rather than what you are, you would have never met Maverick. You would not be here with him now. Quite possibly, she'd be alone as a poor woman. Alone with limited options. Perhaps she would have had to resort to less reputable means of obtaining income. She was attractive, men - and some women - found her sexually appealing.

So now it wasn't monster or poor non-monster. It was Maverick or poor non-monster. Optimism said that she would have found work, lived a normal life and, even then, not have to worry about a life of poverty. But Strife wasn't an optimistic person and that wasn't really the point of this train of thought.

She felt warmth cover her hands, distracting her from her thoughts. The feral was really starting to think that Maverick had calculated exactly how long it took for her mind to take her somewhere truly unpleasant and dangerous. And that meant unpleasant and dangerous things to come for everyone else around. "No need to rush," he was saying to her. Yes, let them try to continue ignoring the clock for just a while longer.

Are delusions truly delusions if you know that you're deluding yourself?

"You should choose the next thing we do," -- "Familiar or new. Just nothing that gets our faces on the Wanted ads." Strife wore a look that said that she didn't know of many things that wouldn't get their faces on the Wanted ads. Actually, come to think of it - "What makes you think there'd be anyone left to complete such a task?" Catch me if you can. But no, that wasn't the point. "What about that paintball game you were talking about? Is that a game available in this area?" She had to pick something, something that didn't have a great risk of something very unfortunate and very public coming about. The game, as Nord had described earlier, seemed like a good idea. Was it a good idea? Strife had no idea; she was just winging it - everything - to be honest. She tried some of her drink. Eh, it was decent enough. The dark-haired mercenary didn't hate it and that was enough for her.

"Is there something you'd like to talk about?" Strife looked at the man with a strange look, not presently sure what he was trying to do. "What are you getting at?" The object so far had been to keep things light and easy; surely he wasn't prompting her to ruin it? On purpose? Strife wasn't terribly interested in doing that. It'd be more stress for the man and he was doing enough. More than enough. Why did he want her to wreck it? "Like what? The other voices in my head?" Or the alarming lack thereof, rather?

[Mystic Frost]

"Imprisonment," Nord replied solemnly. A breath followed. "It isn't a choice so much as a consequence. What lifestyle we get is based on what we do in life, Strife. We fight. We struggle. Put in a situation where it would be one or the other, our tendency to act would land us locked up by someone for violating some law or upsetting the wrong person in authority." The Meek, the Depressed, the Powerless and Uncertain would be poor on the street. The Rebels ended up in prison. The saddest thing was some people intentionally committed even the smallest crime to get in prison in some places; sometimes you got better treatment behind bars.

"What about that paintball game you were talking about? Is that a game available in this area?"

The German looked over at Fox curiously. "Alright. It's a bit late, now, however. We'll need to ask around. There might be an entertainment group that has an area, or we may need to find people that do it as a hobby or sport." Having just arrived, he didn't have any idea about existing games out there. It'd simply been an idea he thought Fox could relate to. There had to be someone in or near the area that played. Couldn't say what quality of players they'd get, but it wasn't an organized sport--in most areas. "Maybe we'll look in the morning when other people are awake?"

"What are you getting at?"

With a shake of his head, Nord caressed her hand as she commented briefly on the matter what she expected he wanted to know. "Anything, Strife. I want you to be happy, but I can't pretend like we can just run away from the past. You don't need to talk about it now; just wanted you to know I'm here when you need it," the Mercenary explained. He'd give the best advice he could not being a psychologist. Relationships were about communication, right? Well, Nord didn't want Fox to say later that he was the type that fucked, drank, but otherwise wasn't interested in her. He wasn't that sort of guy. Not exactly Dr. Phil either--which was a good thing, regardless.

"Business or pleasure, at least we have alcohol." He lifted his glass as a cheer to that effect. Whether she talked about serious matters or not was up to her. Honestly, Nord was content with how things were unfolding. No one was in danger. Nothing burning, crumbling, or otherwise being ripped apart by hostile forces. Just the two of them in a bar, alone.

[~*Silver Fox*~]

"Imprisonment," was the solid reply. She looked at him, curious. Caged over poor? For some reason, she'd thought he would choose differently. Then again, Nord had more experience in worldly exposure and such. Perhaps that influenced his response. He did, additionally, have a little explanation behind the response. It was as though he knew Strife wouldn't completely understand how he would choose to bear imprisonment over poverty. Of course, her own experiences could be coloring her internal choice of poverty. Thinking of imprisonment, her mind immediately went to Weapon X. That organization had a specific brand of imprisonment; it wasn't the same as being imprisoned anywhere else - jail, under the thumb of some other government. She and Nord might not being thinking of the same 'imprisonment' then. But she couldn't picture anything else. Say 'prison' and Strife would think 'Weapon X' out of reflex.

"It isn't a choice so much as a consequence. [...]our tendency to act would land us locked up by someone for violating some law or upsetting the wrong person in authority."

"Unless our tendency to act was borne of something not entirely natural. I don't remember my nature, my innate personality. I know I was different before..everything. I had to be." She frowned to herself. "Maybe that version of me was trained into nonexistence." She had no idea.

But enough of that, philosophical stuff wasn't really her thing. On to other things, like paintball. She really couldn't think of any other constructive activity that would hold her interest, their interests, and keep them - her - out of trouble. Nord said they'd need to ask around, tomorrow because it was too late in the day now. Strife had no idea how they'd do this, she only imagined them walking around and asking people. Her German mate seemed to have a better idea and Strife was beginning to develop the notion that he knew all there was to know about this world she was being abruptly exposed to. The perfect guide to all she needed to know about living normally in this world. A bit of a pedestal, but it couldn't be helped at this stage in the game.


"Maybe we'll look in the morning when other people are awake?" Because Strife would have no problem waking people up. She traveled and killed at a moment's notice. Time of day meant nothing - only how long. How long to get to the drop point, how long to complete the mission, how long to track down the target, how long were they going to bother her by trying to run - /idiots/ - and so on. She wouldn't care that it was the middle of the night; hadn't been trained to care. However, this was, apparently, socially unacceptable. Not normal. And so she wouldn't do it. Strife nodded in answer. "Okay."

She was getting agitated over the question, worried about what Nord was prodding for. Why ask that? There wasn't anything else to talk about! Well, there was, a lot actually, but she didn't want to. Didn't want to ruin it, ruin /this/. He reached over to her, using touch to soothe her agitation before it got out of hand. Time was more important than she thought then.

He wasn't trying to start anything. She could talk about whatever she wanted. Her happiness was important to him, but burying the obvious problems weren't going to do anything but create nasty little minefields. And with their track record...these weren't minefields that they could afford to just leave as is. She didn't have to talk about it now if she didn't want to, didn't feel comfortable, but she wouldn't be able to ignore the issues forever. At some point, she'd simply /have/ to talk. And he'd be there for her when that point came to be.

"Business or pleasure, at least we have alcohol."

Feeling marginally better that she wasn't being pushed to discuss things she felt would only ruin this nice atmosphere Nord had pieced together, Strife picked up her glass - cheers - as well.

"I don't want to talk about those things right now." Didn't ever want to, actually, but Strife wasn't foolish. Naive. She knew that it would have to come out eventually. Just not now, she insisted mentally. "What other countries do you want to visit?" Unless, oh wait. "Unless you want to stay here? You're from Germany, did you want to go home?" Home - did he call any place home anymore? He'd had a life before all this, one he could remember she guessed. Or could he? She didn't really know any more about him than he did her. Did he have living relatives? He didn't have her...access to an extended lifespan. He might have a family out there or things, places, he felt some attachment to..nostalgia or something.

[Mystic Frost]

Nord looked over at Fox for a moment before taking a drink. Swallowing, he set the glass back down and let the alcohol settle to buy time. "No," he replied slowly before sitting up a bit straighter in the chair and giving his shoulders a slight roll. "Plenty of countries in Europe to visit. Several places we could go for gun sport; even more if we venture further East or South. No reason to linger in any one place unless we both enjoy what it has to offer." Just because he was trying to broaden Fox's horizons didn't mean she'd have to abstain from hunting down someone with a price on their head--or just because they could.

He lifted the glass again to take another drink as he reflected on the subject at hand. Fox didn't want to talk about her past, or present, and it had turned toward him for something other than small talk. Not that he wanted to delve into otherwise personal matters. However, if this was a meaningful relationship then it seemed necessary to be open about himself with Fox; to discuss things he normally wouldn't. Where, then, should he draw the line so early in their "partnership?" How much trust could he afford to extend?

"There's nothing left for me in Germany," Nord explained. "It might be pleasant to see the countryside once more, but I would not be any more at home there as any other country." Having wandered the world for various jobs, subjected to Weapon X, betrayed by his wife, and killed his brother there just weren't many ties left to draw him back. Good people, good food, good countryside, but those all lacked the personal connection needed for him to call it "home." Nord had no home, as things were; his heart had no place to rest.

Laying his right arm upon the table, the mercenary reflected for a moment. "Recently, there did not appear many things left in life. I planned on killing Creed and then returning to Germany to die. Ironic that Weapon X would cure or put the ailment in remission; that they would buy me time just to be their personal assassin again." Nord smiled then, looking over at Fox. "See, they are capable of helping people, just with an absorbitant price tag attached."

[~*Silver Fox*~]

Nord savored his drink. Strife finished hers and signaled for another. Her mate had no preference in their traveling, or non-traveling. They could go wherever, whenever - he didn't mind how they paced themselves through Europe or what countries they paced themselves through. He said 'East' and 'South', losing her. Strife masked the confusion, but made herself ask, "East and South of Europe or East and South within Europe?" She didn't mind either way as long as it didn't mean separating. Strife didn't trust herself around the general populace without Nord serving as a human buffer between herself and the rest of humanity.

"I think small places like this would be good. I don't think I'm ready for large cities yet." Adjusting to life was going to be enough of a trial; she had almost flipped out in a lingerie store for crying out loud! Over what? She didn't even remember anything about what triggered it. She just remembered tearing..something, damaging something and imagining it was the pretty little store clerk's face that her claws were running down. She remembered picturing herself on a rampage. How easy it'd be to tear this town apart! She could do it right now couldn't she? Flip out in this bar, in this little hotel, /right now/. Nord was right. In all likelihood, he was the only one in the immediate /and/ surrounding areas that could hope to square off with her and live.

But how many humans would die in the mean time? How much damage could she cause, how many lives could she take before he managed to either calm her down or knock her out and take her away? Or maybe he'd have to skip all that and just do his best to simply take her out. No, that wasn't the term. If you were talking about a person, sure. She was a monster, a beast wearing the skin of a beautiful woman. When speaking of animals, they get 'put down'. Maybe Nord would have to skip all that and just do his best to simply 'put her down'.

"There's nothing left for me in Germany," Maverick said, breaking her quickly darkening thoughts once again. See? This was why it'd be bad if they were separated. She was getting used to having him there, having him stop these psychotic breaks before they manifested into physical violence. Medication incarnate. Strife took another swallow and looked across the table at Nord. These were the things she thought of, bad things - Nord would think they were bad things. He wouldn't want her thinking of these things. Thinking this way about herself even if it was true. He wanted to help her, not restrain her. Telling him she thought of him as a restraining element, even if she thought that was great, would probably sound bad.

It'd upset him. These thoughts would upset him, and that's why she didn't want to share them. It wasn't lack of trust - right? - it was wanting to protect him. Protect..'this'..whatever 'this' was between them. But anyway, he didn't really care to go back to Germany. It was a pretty place, perhaps, but it held no special value to him. Strife nodded to this, filed it away. So they were both homeless. Assuming that Silver Fox, the whole version, hadn't grown attached to some place that she didn't know about. Strife also assumed that Nord wouldn't know either. For one, Silver Fox seemed to have shared precious little with Nord. For two, if he did know it, wouldn't he have taken them there or suggested it as a place of interest? Agh, if only she hadn't been such an ice fortress. Isis is probably the spawn of that part, icy little mute.

"Recently, there did not appear many things left in life. I planned on killing Creed and then returning to Germany to die. Ironic that Weapon X would cure or put the ailment in remission; that they would buy me time just to be their personal assassin again." He smiled, but it didn't seem like the other smiles he'd given her today. "See, they are capable of helping people, just with an absorbitant price tag attached."

Strife stared at Nord for a while, trying to process the words. She was trying to hear everything, but her mind just kept getting stuck. It froze and replayed things like 'left in life' and 'returning to Germany to die'. It stalled on 'cure or put the ailment in remission' and 'buy me time'. A voice said, he's dying. No, no, he said they cured him in exchange for work. Her mind countered with cure /or/ put in remission. He could still die. You could still lose him. He could keel over right now and you wouldn't know why. You have a healing factor - that doesn't help him at all.

"So..you're cured..? You are fine." She wanted him cured; needed him to be cured. Needed him to parrot those words back to her in the affirmative. If not, then everything needed to be postponed, /everything/, in favor of finding a way to make it so. Adapting to regular life, piecing herself back together, all of it would have to wait. Strife didn't understand this feeling she was getting; didn't like it. It felt debilitating, wrong, /alien/. She had a healing factor, a damn good one, so she shouldn't feel this way. She shouldn't feel sick.