She nodded as he talked, eyes widening alongside her smile.
"I absolutely agree. There'll always be things that drag you down, but when you live for the moment, you can forget them - if only for a little while." She glanced around, then huffed. "You promised me illegal bars. You better not be pulling my leg."
"I am an average salaryman, Silvia. You better not forget that after tonight. Keith Astrovik is back in his hotel room suffering from alcohol mixing with his anti-depressants." He stated jocosely, grinning at himself. They still had a little more time before he arrived where he had planned, a little on the bad side of Pittsburg - which didn't mean much - there was supposed to be a rundown bar where your average costumed criminal would go to set their hits, slip some cash to the people at the counter and they could fix you something good for the night, slip a bit more and maybe even a gossip or two could roll your way. Private contractors also met there, the sort that put money where courage should be and let someone else handle their problems - good people to have on your pocket.
"You shouldn't worry much, I told you I heard about these places, did I not? My sources haven't failed me yet. If you feel threatened or like too many eyes are on you, stick close to me. My mom always told me you should never get your guests mixed up in any trouble, no matter who's fault it is." It was a warning of sorts, he certainly didn't doubt someone with her build could take care of larger opponents, perhaps even multiple, if she knew where to apply her strengths. You never know what to expect with the dregs of society, though.
"Oh, really?" she replied, feigning shock, hand covering her mouth. "And here I was, thinking I'd gotten on a bike with Keith Astrovik. That's embarrassing!"
She giggled.
"Well, if I'm Silvia for tonight, then you've got to have a name for tonight too. How about... Nikto?"
As he mentioned danger, however, her demeanor changed, a flash of momentary annoyance flashing across her face, her eyes rolling.
"I told you before and I'll tell you again, I can handle myself. You better not go all white knight on me."
"I was considering something less outlandish. Nicholas, Ryan, maybe Edward. Do you think Nikto could work without them being too wary?" He inquired, a puzzled tone on his voice.
Although the shift on the conversation from a more amicable chat to a confrontational clash of egos didn't do her mood any good, Marcus remained unshaken, not really comprehending which conclusion she desired to reach on her train of thought. He simply nodded, letting her spill her thoughts on the matter - yet another useful piece of trivia one learns from daily jobs, people would rather vocalize their concerns and then be met with a solution rather than more pointless arguments. He didn't change tone, nor expression, his eye didn't even shift from the road ahead. "I kow you can handle yourself. I am not deaf, nor am I stupid. You told me you have been living on the road for years now, and, pardon my bluntness, you look very attractive and dress fashionably, I would be stupid to think you did not have to forcefully deny quite a few advances of people who like to think they are in power. Nobody who spends time only partying and giving in to leisure would have a body like yours, and the distribution of your figure is not something one gets from simply working out in a gym. You have experience, I am well aware." He paused briefly. "However, that is not what I referred to. You do not feel threatened on a situation you know your odds against. You are tipsy, maybe will be even worse, and sure you could take down one, two, three, maybe even four people on this state. I am saying that if you feel like there is a fifth one, you should count on me to have your back, like I would count on you to have mine."
"It's Russian. For Nobody. I thought it seemed appropriate, don't you? But - if you want something a little more boring, Nicholas could fit the bill."
He was observant. Looked into things a bit more than most people did. He was right, to be fair - someone like her, in her position, had to have something up their sleeve. But most people? Most people didn't see past the face. She waved off his comments nonchalantly, but mentally made note.
"Already talking about my body? Come on, now, we just met!" He talked about fights as if it was something he expected, too. Something he was used to. Normal people didn't talk about guys trying to beat them up like statistics, like - weighing the odds. That was a fighter thing. Grew up in a bad place? Or was stuck in a bad business. Well - it'd explain knowing about the bars. "Trust me. Anything goes down, I'll have your back."
"Nobody? You do have quite the penchant for theatrics, Silvia. So be it then, for tonight Nikto it is. If anyone else catches it, we can say it is a childhood nickname or something." He shrugged. Names were the least of his worries, besides it was not like compromising the Keith Astrovik persona was a death sentence.
A sharp left, the whizzing of wind slithering on his ears, the busy city life dying down as they moved away from the proper nightlife into less amicable neighborhoods. He feigned a chuckle at her comment, obviously she was aware of her body, her approach made it quite clear how much, him pointing out the evident wasn't, in his mind, much of a laughing matter. "I trust you." He nodded, abrutply turning the bike, a semi-circular turn into a rather straight line for the parking spot, cutting off another would-be customer - more annoyed than usual by now. "Not like either of us have any choice by now." He flipped the key, the engine going silent as the clinking of glasses and poorly played live music. He didn't want to admit it, but there was quite some charm to places like these, although not for the most refined.
He got off the bike, offering Silvia his hand and motioning to the door. "After you, solnyško." Marcus added, playfully winking.
It was an obvious switch - from glowing billboards and lively streets to the dull, dingy miasma of icehouse signs offering games and sports. She was welcome for her current dress, and relieved she decided to dress moderately for the middle class bar they'd left. She didn't care too much, but if she walked in a place like this wearing silks, she'd stick out like a sore thumb, something that, despite the fun it offered, also often brought unwanted trouble alongside.
"I've got to ask, Niki, have you lived in this city long? Born here? Moved? What's the story there? For a man who wants to seize his life, this isn't the most glamorous place to settle down."
She took his hand with a smile, and her smile widened when he spoke Russian.
"Lapochka, net solnyshko nochʹyu," she teased, giving him a playful shove. "Your accent's very good. Did you study abroad?"
She was familiar with Russian in a more personal level than he would have guessed, from how she reacted to the attempt at dusting off his. That was quite an unexpected surprise, one that did not change much, yet only showed how serious she had been about her goal of seeing the world. "Eto svet tvoyey ulybki." He answered politely.
"I suppose I do have a knack for languages. To tell you the truth, my parents used to travel a lot due to work. They worked on the field, researching wildlife, so I got roped along. It is how I saw the waterfall I mentioned before, and how I learned Russian and a few other languages. I suppose all that travelling did make me wish for a more settled life, so I ended up in New York. Currently here because the company managed to close an important deal, but the city certainly seems to have quite a charm of it's own. Perhaps I could be convinced to stay, given good enough reasons. Wouldn't be the craziest choice I have taken." Indeed, it would not, and by a long shot. All he had to ascertain if his life had better be in here or back in the Big Apple was just before his eyes.
"Very smooth, Niki. It seems you've got a way with words in more languages than one."
They moved into the bar proper - it was a place she'd seen countless times before, but also a place that was somehow new every time. New stains on the carpet in a guernica of long-bought alcohol and long-spent vomit, new patterns of missing tiles in the ceiling, new decorations haphazardly hanging from the wall, be it pictures, or newspapers, or license plates, or All-American signs like "Fish Fear Me" and "My Other Car is a Harley." There was a certain comfort, in places like this. A certain anonymity. These were the places no one ever looked, except if they knew what they were looking for.
The clientele, though - they seemed - rougher than your typical icehouse. More scars, more leathers. Quite a few of them, she assumed from the bulges in their pants, were packing, and she didn't mean in the meat department.
"I just visited New York! It was nice. The clubs were really fun, especially in Manhattan. Got absolutely shitfaced at this flashy disco place on West 41st." Glancing around the room for a moment to assess if there was any clear and present danger - hand poised nonchalantly on the top of her purse, she turned to Niki and beamed. "Wanna get wasted? Let's order some drinks."
She moved a little closer, standing on her tiptoes to whisper - hot and ticklish - against his ear.
"Don't bother with the backroom stuff, though. I've got a little party trick I wanna show you."
"Not as rusty as I thought I had been, huh?" Keith smiled, following her into the lion's den. An interesting sensation flowed through him, similar to being sent abroad to fight, when all eyes fall down on you, chatter dies down a bit, your very appearance standing out.
They didn't belong there.
Not that it was anything new to either of them, from what he had gathered. He paced himself after her, the excitement of his partner masking the prying eyes of a hunter. That grin still plastered on his visage. He leaned on the counter, nodding to her suggestion, a chuckle cementing it as the current plan. "Irish Car Bomb. Big. You got that?" He ordered, turning back to Silvia. "How about you, Sil?" An innocent question, hiding their goals beneath a thin layer of enticing pleasantries. Taking the cue, he leaned closer to her, those sweet whispers turning gears inside his distant mind.
"I'll be following your lead. Just watch your step, there are a lot of people here drunk enough to have forgotten consequences. Especially by the messier table." While hers had been more casual and gentle.in nature, his warnings came in similar fashion to a squadmate during a mission, eyes locked on hers and then slowly trailing to the small mob he had mentioned. He could tell a few were armed, but that was an useless detail to share, they both came here expecting confusion anyways, a hidden blade or a concealed pistol were to be expected.
She glanced the way of the table and shrugged. Nothing she couldn't handle. Nothing they couldn't handle, if this man was the badass he played at when the tie came off.
"I'll keep it in mind. Grasshopper, extra sprinkles."
When their drinks came, she sipped hers, then smiled.
"What's your poison, then, Niki? Uppers? Downers?" Her hand reached out to brush his, and a few seconds later, he'd feel his blood race, tingles spreading across the surface of the skin where hers had grazed his. "Course, we don't want to get too fucked as long as trouble's sitting two tables down, but - y'know what? I think that adds a bit to the fun. Good high runs cleaner when you're living dangerously."
Her eyes flashed, lips parting, pupils going a - little - wider as her grin crept up her cheeks.
There was a brief moment in which he stood silent, motionless upon the prospect of telling her he truly did not abuse any substances she may have been used to, they got in the way of his focus, interfered with the clear mind required for the job at hand. However, he had painted his picture, the mask beneath the mask, and tossing such guise by the window would prove quite... Unsatisfying at this time. Marcus had almost ran the mile, he wouldn't be sitting out on his prize.
"Uppers." He answered nonchalantly, smile creeping back onto his lips. "In my line of work, that's what mostly everyone uses anyways. Anything you have in mind, Silvia? This is your show after all." Truth be told, he wasn't new to the whole concept of using manufactured drugs to grant momentary boosts to consciousness, or simply stop the jitters. He had been in the army before, he had seen many a man fall prey to the vices which kept them blissfully ignorant of reality, out of their own minds. He would rather something similar to that if it came down to his preference, something to boost his adrenaline in the short span of time rather than slow him down. Last thing he needed was slower reflexes moments before they picked a fight they most likely had in the bag.
"Nothing hits cleaner than adrenaline, I think," she whispered, then - with a wink - she quickly leaned in to kiss him on the mouth. In an instant, he'd feel it, a rush in his blood, a sense of fight or flight. She didn't dose him hard, but she gave him enough for a man of his size to notice.
Her smile widened a little more.
"Neat trick, huh?" Her eyes shifted to the rowdy table, tongue flicking across her lips, hands tightening into fists. Her own heart was racing like a jackhammer, body buzzing. She loved this feeling. She lived for this feeling. It made her appreciate existing all the much more.
"Now - whatcha say we become a problem before they do?"