A Short Day || Aoife {Past}

[Vash Alois Zwingli]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 15px; background-color: fbfbfb;] IT HAD BEEN A LONG DAY. Then again, it always was a long day for any MI6 employee. There is no "short day" or "casual Friday", especially when it came to days when you were assigned to a mission. If you weren't on a mission, you were at the SIS Building, doing office work at the Cubicles,t raining your body in the workout rooms, or helping clean out the lab (a task many tended to avoid). Or, you were sent over to Scotland Yard to be their lapdog. You were the government's slave and they intended to drive you all day long. Once the day was over, many agents went their way to one of the strip clubs or gay bars of Vauxhall, both to fill a void and because of convenience. Some went to the fabulous Fortuna Magnus Casino for the entertainment. Vash tended not to go to the Casino; he had no interest in pleasuring himself with the eye candy or risking his money. There was the fact that he had a reputation of being a grumpy man with a serious demeanor. He really didn't want to explain things. He would not even dare think of what would happen if he decided to walk into a gay bar and get called out by annoying coworkers of his. And he really didn't have the energy at the end of the day to question his sexuality. So his usual drinking place was a somewhat undergrown bar at the corner of the street. The location was questionable, next to a couple of the strip clubs. In the window of the next building over were scantily dressed women beckoning for his patronage. He turned a blind eye and only continued walking. This bar he went to somewhat often was dubbed "The Irish Lady". It was owned by an oldwoman from Northern Ireland who probably felt nationalistic and felt the urge to spite the English. The drinks happened to be cheap (cheaper if you weren't English) and was good to the taste. It actually didn't taste too cheap either. There was even actual food here, though it mainly consisted of potatoes, potatoes, and even more potatoes. A real gem of a pub hidden in this vulgar corner of London. He had entered the pub without too much fuss, even if a few of those gingers and carrot tops turned their heads towards him. His blonde hair stood out just a bit in this Irish hellhole. They went back to their drunken Irish Gaelic and English conversations. Sometimes, if they were drunk enough, it was hard to tell what language they were speaking. Vash usually didn't bother. "One Guinness Draught,": he said, making certain not to start any side conversations. Once you got an Irishman yapping, they won't stop, especially when drunk. The price of the Guinness here was definitely agreeable, especially because of the post-St. Patrick's Day cheer (a day some people made a point to be excessively Irish). Guinness here was dirt cheap. For the length of today, he wanted to make sure he didn't blow out his wallet, and so this was the place. It was a long day and a man deserves his drink.

[atrb=valign,top][atrb=style,width: 120px; padding: 15px; background-color: 312925;] 535 WORDS

MADE BY MINNIE OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[Deleted]

This was probably one of the only places in the whole of Vauxhall where Aoife O'Neill actually felt comfortable. Sure, "The Irish Lady" was such a stereotypical Irish pub that it was more like a harsh slap across the face than a friendly greeting, but it was strangely homely for the redheaded agent. Aoife would spend most Friday night's here, surrounded by fellow charming, friendly, jolly Irishmen and women and having a laugh with them about National jokes and such. Really, this was one of the only places in London that made Aoife feel like she was home, in the Emerald Isle. And she missed Ireland, really, she did. "The Irish Lady" had become almost a substitute homeland for her over the years. She'd made friends with the various familiar faces and the lovely barmaid from Northern Ireland, and had become a well-know regular here. Unfortunately, she had also often ended up running into the one man she didn't want to see again... It was always lucky for her that Séamus Ó Ceallaigh couldn't exactly do anything to her in a public place like this. Thankfully, he wasn't here tonight. No need to be on guard or anything like that. It would just be a night to relax and enjoy the company of friends whilst drinking a nice, cold Guinness. In a nutshell, it was bliss for Aoife.

The loud chatter of the pub all of a sudden seemed to drop down to a low murmur. Aoife hadn't considered raising her head at the change in atmosphere originally, and was intently keeping her gaze focused on drink. That was until a friend sitting beside her at the bar gently nudged the redhead's arm.

"Hey, Aoife!"

"...What is it, Niamh?"

"Look! Who is that?!"

Aoife glanced up and turned her head in the direction towards where the other woman was pointing, only to lay eyes on Vash. Vash Zwingli, of all people! What the hell was he doing here?! Firstly, Aoife never imagined he would have been caught dead in a place like this and secondly... the poor guy stuck out like a sore thumb. All eyes were on him as he ordered a Guinness for himself; it didn't exactly seem to help the Swiss much that he was not bothering to try and socialise with the people here.

"He's rather good looking, that guy... Cute."

Aoife spluttered on her beer, eyes widening to stare at her friend Niamh in horror. She thought Vash was "cute"?! Was this some sort of crazy sign that the world was going to end?!

"Go and talk to him, then," Aoife replied after a moment's hesitation. "Maybe he'll buy you a drink." Pfft, yeah right. Like that would ever happen.

Anyway, at the suggestion the other Irish girl turned bright red and began protesting against Aoife's idea, shaking her head furiously and gabbling about how stupid that would be.

Aoife simply rolled her eyes, slammed her glass down on the bar and stood up before marching over to her colleague with a forward vigour and tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Evening, Vash," Aoife began as she pulled up the seat beside him and sat down. "Lets skip the niceties. I have a friend over there who finds you very attractive but is too shy to talk to you. So, buy her a drink or something."

Saying that Aoife O'Neill was not a blunt person would have been a total lie.

[Vash Alois Zwingli]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 15px; background-color: fbfbfb;] VASH WAS AS BLUNT AS HIS AIM WAS SHARP. In a place like this, it was certain that he wasn't going to be as calculating with his words. He had his excuses, and he was going to use them. He pretty much knew he stuck out so much here, but what could he say? Cheap drinks are cheap drinks. He wasn't here for the company. In Vauxhall, you simply didn't try to strike a friendly chat with people. You strike a friendly chat, you might end up getting a little too friendly with the person, and Vash wasn't known for his friendliness. To say he was friendly in the friendly sense would be a total lie. His reaction was always deadpan, especially when he is put into an awkward position such as now. "Evening, Vash. Let's skip the niceties. I have a friend over there who finds you very attractive but is too shy to talk to you. So, buy her a drink or something," a certain coworker of his said. I'll be damned. Vash wasn't going to buy a drink for a stranger who was reportedly checking him out. There were a lot of reasons for this, the biggest reason being he was simply too cheap and would rather buy drinks for himself. If the woman was attracted to him, why was she asking Aoife out of all people to be the messenger? He would rather the woman be up and straightforward to him... plus... did he consider himself attractive or dating material? Not so sure about that one. Vash is a solitary man and doesn't seem to have that at the top of his mind. In fact, he seemed to hinder his younger sister from romantic interaction. Chances of the Zwingli family line continuing was slim at this point. "No, won't be doing that." he said, looking at the direction of the girl in question, then looking back to Aoife. Vash, you are a party pooper. But really, Aoife out of all people should know that he has trouble forking over money. His thrifty ways would get in the way of relationships, yes. But he would much rather prefer not to part with his hard-earned and hard-saved cold cash. He'll stay as cold as his cash, and there was no arguing with that. She didn't need any explaining here.

[atrb=valign,top][atrb=style,width: 120px; padding: 15px; background-color: 312925;] 404 WORDS

MADE BY MINNIE OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[Deleted]

Of course, Aoife had always known that Vash wasn't exactly the friendliest guy on the block. And of course, she should not have been surprised that he had turned down her “offer” so flatly. Heck, she had even been expecting it. But that didn't stop her from frowning prominently at his blunt statement. Jeez this guy really needed to loosen up a bit and stop being such a cheap-skate! That was probably why he was such a grump, she concluded to herself. Because he was so cheap that he didn't get any girls and so, never got laid. Poor guy. Sort of made Aoife feel a little bit sorry for him. But only a little. After all, it was his own fault. There was no denying that fact. If you weren't going to make an effort, then of course you would get nothing in return! That was a simple law of relationships.

"Oh come on, Chipper!" she groaned, casually borrowing Donald’s nickname for the Swiss man. "I thought all men were constantly thinking about getting laid. And you have to admit, she is cute~" The redhead smirked and tilted her head in the direction of her friend. "Niamh’s probably the best looking girl in this bar so--"

She was cut of mid-sentence when she suddenly came to the realisation that, in fact, her friend had scurried off and left the pub, leaving her alone to try and convince a guy to date someone who wasn't even there anymore. Aoife was going to kill that girl when she saw her again!

The Irishwoman huffed in frustration, running a hand through her ginger hair in exasperation. Trying to do a friend a favour, all that had ended up happening was she had (possibly) irritated a colleague and now had nobody to drink with. She never should have bothered.

"You know what? Never mind." She sighed heavily, her eyes rolling at the situation. It was a stupid idea to try and hook those two up together. They probably would not even have been right for each other anyway.

"Say Vash? Do you mind if I join you?"Aoife gave a dry laugh as she spoke, shaking her head slightly. "Don’t worry; I can pay for my own drink. No need to waste your cash on me. Just... mind if I keep you company for a bit?"

[Vash Alois Zwingli]

BLACK TEARS, BLACK SMILES

Black credit cards and shoes
You can call
all the people you want
But it's you who's being used

He didn't exactly think of himself as a "nice guy". He's had his share of that role, and honestly, he wouldn't be allowing anyone else to see him like that. He wasn't going to allow anyone the liberty of seeing him as the nice guy if they didn't warrant it, and, well, he wasn't in the mood for company. Company tended to leave eventually, after all. 

"Oh come on, Chipper!"

Oh shut up, not you too.

"I thought all men were constantly thinking about getting laid. And you have to admit, she is cute~ Niamh’s probably the best looking girl in this bar so--"

Was this really a matter of getting laid or not tonight? Why would she even care if he did anything of the erotic variety? he had no interest in doing such actions at this hour. It was funny to say, but his lack of sex drive was something that stuck with him, despite trying to reconcile himself and move on. But hey, it's been a long day and he really had no mood for this. It wasn't a mission today, it was doing paperwork and casework for coworkers and being slave-driven by the Q to clean up the lab.

"I'm not constantly thinking about getting laid at all at the moment." 

Then, the Irishwoman realized that the girl that she was trying to hook him up with wasn't even in the bar anymore. Smooth move, O'Neill. Very smooth move. Good luck trying to get him laid tonight if there's no one to lay him with.  Where was her drinking buddy tonight? Not in bed with him, that was for sure.

"You know what? Never mind."

She rolled her eyes at the idea that had struck her earlier. At least she had the sense not to push it, unlike her idiot brother. She was more tolerable than her brother because of that sense.

"Say Vash? Do you mind if I join you? Don’t worry; I can pay for my own drink. No need to waste your cash on me. Just... mind if I keep you company for a bit?" she laughed. A drinking buddy for the night? A bit of company? Company will leave eventually, even good company, but... well, what was the harm then? Every night was the end of a long day, and with the end of every long day, there was rarely company. He wasn't too much of a conversationalist, but company was better than no company. He nodded.

"Fine. It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[Deleted]

"Fine. It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

Aoife couldn't help but let a tiny, sarcastic snort escape her at Vash's words. Congratulations on stating the obvious, Mr. Zwingli. Working for the British government, in particular MI6, meant there was always something else that needed to be done. Another report due next week, another criminal gang to shut down, some more people to protect without them even realising it and without any form of gratitude...
With the wages they got for being an agent, there were times when Aoife really could not help but wonder why she still stuck with this god-awful job. She was also still wondering to herself why she hadn't punched Iain yet for dragging her into all this mess, but that was for another time and another place. Not now. Now... was time to enjoy a good pint of Guinness. And maybe try to enjoy Vash Zwingli's company.

He wasn't exactly a social butterfly, so it might not be as simple as it sounded.

"It's always a long day, Vash," the Irishwoman's tone sounded tired, as though she was trying to suppress a yawn as she spoke. Running a hand through her crimson coloured locks, she paused for a moment, then shook her head slightly. "No matter how much or how little gets done, it still never stops. I really need a break..."

With another shake of her head, Aoife lifted up her glass once more and downed the last mouthful of the ebony beer which left a bitter taste on her tongue. Now the Guinness was gone, and yet she was still sober on this Friday night. This was rare. Momentarily glancing over her shoulder and offering a smile to the pub landlady, two more rounds of the Irish "delicacy" were ordered, before Aoife's attention once more returned to her Swiss companion for the evening.

"I ordered another pint for you as well, by the way. Don't worry about the cost or anything; it's on me."

Maybe getting him drunk would get some more conversation out of the stingy, cheese-loving guy?

Her smile brightened a little, coupled with a mischievous glint in her eye when the two drinks arrived. Yeah, this was a good idea to spice up the evening. After reaching forward and taking a sip of her own pint, the redhead leaned back in her chair and began to rock backwards and forwards slightly, the weight all focused on the seat's back two legs.

"Tell me, Vash," Aoife chimed at him, her voice much more friendly and chipper; more like her usual self instead of some exhausted woman after a hard day in the office. "Why are you so damn uptight? Still can't quite believe you didn't want to get some action with Niamh today. She's a real good looker, and rumour has it, excellent in bed~"

Teasing and trying to get under Vash Zwingli's skin? Little bit.

[Vash Alois Zwingli]

BLACK TEARS, BLACK SMILES

Black credit cards and shoes
You can call
all the people you want
But it's you who's being used

If there was anything Vash Zwingli had to learn, it was small talk. Or at least it seemed like he needed to learn it. He wasn't always like this, no, but really, he could at least make a bit of effort to small talk properly. Stating the obvious wasn't exactly small talk. 

Of course, though, his partner, his colleague, his coworker here did deserve a bit more talk than small talk in reality. Vash just wasn't cutting it today, now was he? He rarely gave anyone so much as a word, but in this trade, trusting anyone was difficult. But to give one of the people in his life that he trusted a word? Couldn't he have done a bit of a better job here?

He took a sip of his Guinness. Oh how lively and delightful the beverage felt as it passed through his lips and flowed its way down his throat. A relaxing kind of drink... a loosening drink, a delightful drink...

"It's always a long day, Vash. No matter how much or how little gets done, it still never stops. I really need a break..." she mused. 

"We all do. I just feel fortunate that they didn't send us off on another one of those Underground inspections. The stupidity you find on public transportation, really now."

Another sip of the Guinness. No need to think of stupid situations at the moment. No need to think of stupid people and their misconstrued actions, their inability to read directions, those vandals, those people who call themselves "artists" and "liberators". Relax for a bit... It was simply disappointing that a pint of Guinness was simply a pint and not more, not less. Of course it would be empty soon enough.

"I ordered another pint for you as well, by the way. Don't worry about the cost or anything; it's on me."

Free Guinness was good Guinness. Vash nodded and took the pint. No need to protest about it, no need to question why she'd order another drink. Don't question your blessings. If she was expecting more conversation, fine. It wouldn't be Vash's problem if she didn't enjoy his form of conversation anyways. He wasn't a conversationalist. He isn't satisfying with conversation. But be it so, it's his way of showing he aimed to please, and perhaps with the Guinness, that aim would be a bit better.

He observed her drinking her own Guinness, shifting back and forth, back and forth on the two legs of the stool, her smooth legs following... That was an inappropriate observation. He drank his Guinness and rolled his eyes away from those legs.

He snapped back from that observation when she chimed in. 

"Tell me, Vash. Why are you so damn uptight? Still can't quite believe you didn't want to get some action with Niamh today. She's a real good looker, and rumour has it, excellent in bed~"

He perhaps wasn't sober enough to tell if she were really drunk or not. At the moment, he was in a state in between drunk and sober, and the sober side was going to stay determined to keep itself up.

"I'm not uptight, I'm just not interested at the moment, and even if I was, I'd rather be doing that with someone else," he said, taking another sip of his Guinness. Why is everyone curious about his bedroom life anyways? That hasn't been exciting in a long while!

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[Deleted]

It was easy to tell that already, the mood was beginning to lighten. It may have only been a little bit, but Aoife could already see that Vash was being just a tiny bit more talkative than he had been no more than five or so minutes ago. Ah yes, the marvels of alcohol. Funny how even the smallest drop could change people just a little bit. Maybe this would help Vash here transform from a reclusive caterpillar into a social butterfly in next to no time! He’d just need to keep on downing the Guinness Aoife herself had so kindly ordered for him, and then they should be able to keep the conversation going. The redhead raised an eyebrow at her company’s words on how he wasn’t uptight. Well, you could have fooled her, Zwingli. Seemed to Miss O’Neill here that you were much more uptight than you were letting on. “Oh really?” Aoife leaned forward as she spoke with an ever so slight teasing tone in her thickly accented voice. There was a flash in her eyes, a spark of mischief, and her smile was soon mirroring that of the Cheshire cat’s. “Go on then. Who would you rather be with? Are blondes not your type or something~?” Huh. Maybe she was getting a little bit tipsy herself now. This was going into the realms of more than a little bit personal. And Vash… well… even if the two of them were colleagues, and they had been on plenty of missions together… they weren’t exactly that close. Aoife really was pushing the boundaries here a bit much. “Let’s see; I think you’re the kind of guy who would go for brunettes. ….Probably brunettes who were bankers. You seem like someone who would be into bankers.” Taking another gulp of Guinness, she chuckled to herself and glanced towards the Swiss man. Oh dear, this really was going to make things awkward. Hopefully he was getting a bit more drunk now. Eh, he won’t remember any of this by the morning at this rate. “…Or maybe you’re not into girls at all~?” Yeah. She went there. Oops.

Tag: Vash

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GS

[Vash Alois Zwingli]

BLACK TEARS, BLACK SMILES

Black credit cards and shoes
You can call
all the people you want
But it's you who's being used

Normally, he would freze up at such a question, or he would outwardly and fiercely deny such a claim. After all, this is why he would choose this kind of establishment instead of join Donald and the others for a sweet time at a Vauxhall gay bar that usually involved male strippers and the occasional hot seat (and if you ever caught Vash Zwingli in a hot seat, it would be a rare occassion!). Vash was simply too tired or too annoyed to question his sexuality at that time of day.

But no, at this time, alcohol made him a somewhat happier man (or at least as happy as one would expect the Swiss to be). He always seemed happier on alcohol, a bit more loosened up, re-freshened even. So you can say free alcohol made him feel euphoric. The combination of two things he loved would sure to send the evening off in a positive direction. And if conversation got him more free alcohol, so be it.

It was just a bit of a shame, at least for the sober Vash, that he was easily swayed by alcohol. One could actually get him to do something quite stupid if you gave him free alcohol. It was a running gag at every MI6 New Year's party to offer Vash alcohol, and there were even bets to see who would get him to do the most ridiculous thing, Donald often garnering many bets and winning three years running. The betting system and contest, of course, is kept from Vash's knowledge. All he had to remember any of it by was some pictures and a huge hangover.

The most uptight people tended to be the ones who let everything go when they loosened up, eh?

“Oh really? Go on then. Who would you rather be with? Are blondes not your type or something~?”

He was still at least sober enough to cover up and not answer that. How could someone be able to so easily to poke into that! Then again, he totally played into that and he almost asked for a question like such. He wasn't so sure how to answer that question, anyways... or what the answer of that question was. Who did he rather be with at the moment? He wasn't so sure anymore. The answer was so clear when it was her, his American dream. Now, though... Vash Zwingli never lies when drunk, but he found he could not explain himself, even with brutal honesty. Not when he hasn't sorted out his pile of feelings.

“Let’s see; I think you’re the kind of guy who would go for brunettes. …probably brunettes who were bankers. You seem like someone who would be into bankers.”

"Blondes are... I'm not going to say anything on the topic," he said, scowling at the now empty pint of Guinness and crossing his arms "And to hell do I know who I would rather be with."

At least he answered the question? It actually isn't too usual for him to talk much to his coworker outside of work, so this was an improvement. Heck, Vash talks more to Iain outside of work and that contact is minimal and limited to complaints and the occasional drink. All his talks with Aoife have been merely business. Merely business. Maybe talking outside business felt good, if not for the nosy questions. Or maybe it was simply the free alcohol. Eh.

“…Or maybe you’re not into girls at all~?”

Oh heck no.

"I am, there are some hot ones at work! I swear I'm not attracted to Q!" he said, perhaps a bit too loudly. Though of course, some of the girls at work were a bit... well, the usual MI6 employees weren't always the typical "hot", be it an abnormality in personality or style. And to hell would anyone assume that he was the Q's little secret!

"There are girls at work I'd date if I had to," he said, frowning at such a proposition. That was perhaps half a lie. He'd easily do it if he was to be paid for the endeavor. Though dates, to Vash's concern anyways, were meant to be investments. Even if you were paid to date someone, the man usually has to spend quite a bit. And Vash Zwingli was always careful with investments.

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[Deleted]

Already, Aoife was beginning to feel a slight buzz from all the alcohol she had consumed already that night. Hm, how long had she been here? About an hour, give or take, with Niamh beforehand. In that time, she had managed to get through at least… three of four pints of Guinness. Aoife really should have kept a better account. This was going to be her fifth at least. If she continued at this rate, she probably would end up completely drunk. It was a good thing she wouldn’t have to go into work tomorrow – it was going to be her day off, which gave her ample time to sleep off any hangover that might end up affecting her in the morning.

But hm, the buzz was certainly putting her in a good mood. Even her grumpy Swiss colleague already seemed a little but more loosened up than usual. Huh, maybe the alcohol was already getting to him as well. At that point, she made the mental decision to keep ordering more and more booze until Vash ended up completely shit-faced wasted. Because that was a genius plan. Shhh it was!

Aoife couldn’t help as a tiny smirk played at her lips when she saw Vash’s reaction to her question about his type of woman. Oh, so he was bitter about blondes, was he~? Noticing his empty pint, Aoife quickly ordered another round for the two of them, before propping her elbows up on the table and resting her chin on her interlinked fingers. Her emerald green eyes widened, almost sweetly, as she stared up at the man with a slight pout taking hold of her expression.

“Awh, come on now. Don’t be such a grump!” she whined “innocently”, still keeping up the look of a kicked, or incredibly adorable, puppy. “I was only asking. What’s the matter with blondes anyway? I rather like blondes. Mhm~ blondes with slightly long hair and light eyes. Oooh, blue eyes are nice! Everyone likes blue eyes, right?”

…wow. Maybe she was a little more tipsy than she had originally thought. But ah well, who cares? It didn’t matter anyway!! Tonight was Friday night – the one night of the week when you were supposed to get drunk! No sooner had that thought crossed her mind, the next round of their Guinness had appeared. After shooting the barmaid a warm smile of thanks, Aoife quickly picked up her pint and gently tapped Vash’s glass, before taking a small sip. How many was this now? Three? No wait… six or seven. At least they hadn’t started taking shots yet or anything.

At Mr. Zwingli’s sudden outburst to her very subtle hint at him potentially being gay, Aoife spluttered on her drink and let out a mirthful laugh. Oh wow – his face had been absolutely priceless! Gosh, it was times like this when Aoife O’Neill really wished she had been carrying a camera on her. Donny and Feliks would have died at the sight of that expression…

“Chill your tits, Chipper! No need to get all defensive with me,” she chuckled slightly, shaking her head and causing her red curls to bounce around her face slightly. “It was just a joke.” Next game a sigh as her laughter died down, and with another shake of her head, she glanced up and examined the man with a smirk. “Go on then, spill. If you had to date someone at work, who would it be?”

She could probably use this information for blackmail at a later date.

[Vash Alois Zwingli]

BLACK TEARS, BLACK SMILES

Black credit cards and shoes
You can call
all the people you want
But it's you who's being used

And the free alcohol kept flowing. He wasn't opposed to the fact that his coworker (for whatever reason) was purchasing him alcohol. Just as long as he didn't have to wake up to a large receipt in his office cubicle, he'll take it while he still can... despite his better judgement that it was perhaps a good idea to stop.

He was quite aware of what would happen if he were shit-faced wasted. Despite being quite good at hiding his emotions behind stoicism and staunch professionalism, he wasn't quite good at keeping the facade when under the influence. He was quite sappy by nature, which was an inconvenience. He would have to fight to keep down anything, then. 

“Awh, come on now. Don’t be such a grump! I was only asking. What’s the matter with blondes anyway? I rather like blondes. Mhm~ blondes with slightly long hair and light eyes. Oooh, blue eyes are nice! Everyone likes blue eyes, right?
" she said

"I'm not a grump," he grumbled, grumpily, taking another drink from his pint. Her description of a blonde with blue eyes wasn't earning her any points from him, in any case. "I'm not commenting on that. I've had preferences, and then I've lost preferences. None of your business. From what I'm gathering, it seems you're into blondes yourself, aren't you."

He smirked at his reply, as if there was anything remotely witty to it at all. He clinked his glass and took another sip.

"What is this about 'blondes with slightly long hair and light eyes', might I have the liberty of asking since you seem somewhat keen on getting my type. Not that that sort of information is something I hold as very important," he said, putting his glass down. His head was starting to feel pretty light. At least this wasn't his usual dry wine. If it had been, he'd have been a little worse off. Perhaps a bit more sappy. He was already becoming a bit snarky, at any rate. What he enjoyed about wine was the fact that he got the same effect by drinking a smaller amount, and the fact that wine tasted much better to him. He came to this joint for the fact that the beer was cheap, but how much could he logically be drinking...

“Chill your tits, Chipper! No need to get all defensive with me
. It was just a joke.”  she chuckled in response to his outburst. At least it got the point across that he wasn't secretly closeting with Iain or Donald. He simply grumbled at the nickname and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Give me a Gerard Bertrand Grenache Rose," he told the bartender, saying the name of the French rose wine with his best French accenting. The bartender put down a bottle of the wine in front of the two, providing two wine glasses. Vash said nothing about sharing, but whatever. He wasn't going to down the whole bottle by himself, anyways. 

He poured himself a glass, and poured her a glass without asking her if she wanted a glass.

"Bitte schön." he said, handing her the glass. He preferred his wine, even if the beer tended to be cheaper. This was how it was most nights, anyways. The beer talked him into getting himself the wine he truly deserved. He sipped the wine, taking in the rich, flowery aroma. This is what alcohol should taste like. Rich and aged to perfection. Wine was like investments. And he was careful with such investments, but sometimes, he had to revel in the satisfaction of a successful investment. Wine was often a successful investment. 

After she had managed to stop laughing, she then managed to ask “Go on then, spill. If you had to date someone at work, who would it be?”

"Anyone who's willing to pay. I'd charge high because some of that money would go towards reservations at restaurants or something of that sort," he said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his wine. "And really, there aren't many people at work that I acquaint myself with nowadays. I've made my sexual preferences clear. Why don't you take a guess?"

He wished he didn't say that, but of course, he'd regret that for a different time, with the wine being a good distraction. 

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[Aoife O'Neill]

"I'm not a grump."

The redhead raised an eyebrow at that comment, the corners of her lips twitching upward into a faint smirk. O'Neill really wanted to scoff or laugh at that comment, yet she retained her composure. Vash Zwingli seemed to be a bit delusional when talking about himself. The Swiss agent had a bit of a reputation in MI6 for his less than stellar social skills and cantankerous nature. Add that to the fact he seemed to be a rather trigger-happy man, and it was no wonder that younger, inexperienced agents and new recruits were frightened by Vash and his infamous reputation.

"Sure, you keep telling yourself that," those words were long, drawn out, and laced with amusement whilst the shrewd smile never once left her face. Resting her chin in the palm of one hand, Aoife just patiently sat and listened to what her co-worker had to say for himself.

"I'm not commenting on that. I've had preferences, and then I've lost preferences. None of your business. From what I'm gathering, it seems you're into blondes yourself, aren't you."

Oh, so now he was trying to be funny, was he? Well, there really was no need for that smirk of Zwingli’s – there had been nothing funny at all about that comment.

"What is this about 'blondes with slightly long hair and light eyes', might I have the liberty of asking since you seem somewhat keen on getting my type. Not that that sort of information is something I hold as very important."

Aoife simply shrugged as she reached out and grabbed her almost empty glass of Guinness, before throwing her head back and downing the last few mouthfuls of the bitter stout. The liquid ran down her throat and warmed the pit of her stomach. Alcohol was pleasant, especially on a late Friday night in rainy London like this. After the drink was finished, the glass was practically slammed down on the table, and Aoife looked up so her eyes locked with Vash’s, that bright Irish smile of hers still in place.

"Eh, it's just my type, that's all" she replied bluntly with a casual shrug, clearly not embarrassed by being honest about the situation. "That description I just gave you is basically my ex boyfriend." A heavy sigh that time, and her smile dropped slightly so it no longer quite reached her brilliant green eyes, which had now trailed off to one side away from her colleague. "Francis…" The name rolled off her tongue awkwardly, as though it still hurt to say it. Drat, the alcohol was making her far too talkative now. Quickly, she shook her head and the smile returned in full force. Making direct eye contact once again with the other agent, she chuckled slightly before stating, "Well, I just told you something rather personal. Now you have to answer my questions, Zwingli."

The next thing she knew, one of the bartenders had put down a fancy looking bottle of wine upon their table, which Vash was now pouring into two wine glasses. Aoife couldn’t help but blink in surprise. First of all, she didn’t realise they sold this sort of wine at the Irish Lady. The pub was not exactly a place of sophistication, and was well-known for its hard alcohol and drunken karaoke nights. Secondly, Aoife noticed that the evening was taking a bit of a strange turn. Talking about romance, two lonely people sharing a bottle of wine… Hm…

She accepted the wine, though, with a polite nod of her head as a gesture of thanks. Maybe if she had not have had so many pints of Guinness prior to this, she would have refused it. Anyone with a clear head knows that it is not a good idea to mix your alcohol; it tended to make people even more drunk than if they stuck to one beverage. Aoife was already reasonably tipsy now, on the cusp of drunk. She should not have taken that wine. But she did.

"You call this alcohol?" she snorted as her nose crinkled after taking a swig of the drink. "This stuff is shite! Why the hell would you even order this stuff? What a waste of money... And here I thought you were all tight and focused on saving your cash, Switzy. Nah, we need something stronger!" At that point, the land lady was called over by the Irish agent, who then went ahead and ordered two whiskeys. When the new beverage arrived, Aoife simply pushed one of the glasses in Vash’s direction, before taking her own and knocking it back in one swift motion.

She was going to be so hung over tomorrow, that was for sure.

"Anyone who's willing to pay. I'd charge high because some of that money would go towards reservations at restaurants or something of that sort. And really, there aren't many people at work that I acquaint myself with nowadays. I've made my sexual preferences clear. Why don't you take a guess?"

Once more, the woman snorted and rolled her eyes at the Swiss man’s comment. He was probably right; anyone who would have wanted to date Vash of all people would be charged for it. Zwingli was never one of the guys Aoife personally considered desirable. Though, now that she thought about it…

The woman went quite for a moment, her lips pursed together in deep concentration as she studied the man sitting before her. How odd. Why was it that she had never noticed that Zwingli actually was rather good looking?

…That was a weird thought.

With a casual smile appearing on her face once again, something between a hum and a laugh reverberated in the woman's throat, before she leaned forward to decrease the distance between the two slightly.

"Hm, lets see. You're not into guys (unless your lying to me), so if we take all the women at MI6 and then narrow it down to who you actually talk to, that leaves us with," Aoife paused mid-sentence to quickly count out the number of ladies who fit the criteria on her hand, then she held up five fingers in Vash's face. "Q, Marcia from bomb disposal, that other researcher Alina, Carmen and~" This time, the pause had been used more for dramatic effect. Her grin growing slightly and a mischievous sparkle flashing in her emerald eyes, Aoife simply pointed at herself and winked at the man. "Me! Now, I think Q is a little bit too high maintenance for you. Marcia, although she's nice... really doesn't strike me as your type at all. Alina, well, you hardly do talk to her, really. She's probably too quiet for you to ever have gotten to know. Carmen just makes you feel uncomfortable; everyone knows that."

With each sentence and without realising it, the woman had been leaning in closer and closer, gradually and very slowly. Clearly, the many pints she had before Vash's arrival, the ones she had had with him, the wine, and the whiskey were all adding up and clouding her thoughts completely. She had not even considered her actions as they had happened.

"So that leaves..." Her words suddenly was soft and low, almost seductive to the ear. Smooth like honey. The space between the two was now hardly visible, their noses nearly touching and she was staring at Vash with a half-lidded gaze. "Me?"

They stayed like that, frozen in time for a moment or so. In reality, the moment only lasted a few seconds, before the giggles took control and Aoife quickly pulled herself away, tears of mirth beading up in the corner of her eyes.

"Sorry, sorry, I couldn't resist. It's hilarious winding you up," the Irishwoman managed to say through her laughter. Snorting, she turned her head in order to get a good look at Vash's expression (which would probably be hilarious), before taking up her un-finished glass of wine and taking another long sip of it. Well, tonight was certainly turning out fun.

[Vash Alois Zwingli]

BLACK TEARS, BLACK SMILES

Black credit cards and shoes
You can call
all the people you want
But it's you who's being used

"Sure, you keep telling yourself that."

He really wasn't the type to be able to see himself as others saw him. He was guilty of a bit of hypocrisy, yes, and his nature tended to drive others away, but in this line of work, he found that sort of attitude to be the best sort to use in many situations. Actually, it worked with anything. People wouldn't bother people that didn't seem so inviting, anyways. 

"That description I just gave you is basically my ex boyfriend. Francis... Well, I just told you something rather personal. Now you have to answer my questions, Zwingli."

He frowned slightly at that comment, but dared not comment anything himself. In all fairness, Vash actually didn't quite know his coworkers outside of work. His life outside of work wasn't that quite interesting, anyhow. He was practically married to his work, and because he hadn't anything interesting to share besides the occasional weekend gardening sessions and chocolate-making sessions in the kitchen, he never really questioned what everyone else did. It wasn't his business to poke into at all, and he had no reason to want to know much about the others. Just as long as he completed his job. Nonetheless, he did have some temptation to learn more about this Francis, but he would rather not voice such curiosity. 

She took the wine and rejected his taste in alcohol, prompting herself to order two whiskeys. He frowned at that— rose wine was delicious to his palette. Wine was expensive, he hated wasting it, but it was his preferred drink. 

"This stuff is shite! Why the hell would you even order this stuff? What a waste of money... And here I thought you were all tight and focused on saving your cash, Switzy. Nah, we need something stronger!"

"I only make good investments, and it tastes rich enough for the price—" quickly shut up by two whiskeys being placed in front of the two of them. He downed his glass of wine and took the whiskey. He really wasn't interested in get wasted tonight, but if she insisted on paying, he simply couldn't...

She went on to listing the ladies at MI6 as "possible candidates". Already, he was starting to regret having let himself go and challenge her to figure it out. Damn it, damn it, damn it... 

He winced as she listed reasons why others weren't on his list. Q definitely was a bit too expensive for his tastes. Marcia wasn't quite his type, Alina had no reason to talk to him (not that many people had a reason to talk to him, anyways), and Carmen was the most uncomfortable thing that God had placed on this Earth. It was as if Vash had done something terribly wrong in his past life, and now he was going to have to pay for it in this life. The fire in the Irish lady's eyes seemed to light up the room, and caused the Alpine-accustomed Swiss to feel rather uncomfortable. The room was growing quite stuffy, and she kept shifting... in a direction he wasn't anticipating.

Damn it Zwingli, you pulled too far, and now she's right onto you. 

"So that leaves... Me?" she said, a mere two inches from his lips, their noses practically touching.

How the heck did I get here, how is this happening, why is this oh god no why. 

There was a temptation to close that space, and the alcohol seemed to prod it on. Alcohol had the habit of making it harder for him to conceal emotions. Emotions in general were something he had terrible time getting a rein on. He craved to do as he really wished, to actually speak his opinion on this, to profess something— anything. His sin was concealing such feelings, and he wanted to confess, to reach some absolution. But alas, the sinner stays sinful. Conceal, don't feel, don't let her know, Zwingli.

He felt as if the room was going to collapse on him, the sort of feeling that said "get the heck out of here". But no. He was frozen in place, and the air felt as if he was stuck in molasses. Perhaps staying still would make him more invisible, but really...

She pulled back suddenly, and he almost, criminally, craved that feeling again. "Sorry, sorry, I couldn't resist. It's hilarious winding you up," she laughed, as if it were all nothing but play for her. Which... it probably was, knowing how many people tended to be. What a cruel woman you are, Miss O'Neill.

But really, being flustered had to be just what she was aiming for. Her smirk as she drank the wine she had called shit gave it all away. It was already quite apparent that he was shaken and stirred, but he wasn't going to leave it at that. He took a swig of the whiskey and put it down, perhaps a bit too hardly. Oh boy, this had to be one of the stupidest ideas he has ever had...

"Yes, and?" he said, failing miserably as he tried to look unbothered by the turn of events. He felt the roses in his cheeks bloom, but he would ignore that. A man like himself would decide not to acknowledge it— he'll regret this so much later, of course. "Give me a reason why you would put yourself out there as a candidate in this little game of 'Guess Who'."

He wanted to stay smug, but damn it, the whiskey was only going to succeed in making him much less graceful with his words. He tried to continue with the game, but he had always known it. He wasn't so great at the play. "So what if I'm interested in, in... So what if I've felt this way for a whi—"

He stopped himself from continuing with that line of thinking. Damn it, this was a stupid line of thinking, and for the split second of oscillating sobriety, he felt the urge to kick himself horribly. This was definitely not the direction he wanted to go in, definitely not...

He sighed, grabbing the wine bottle, his grip trembling so much from a bit of nervousness that he had let a few drops go to waste. He'd blame it on the alcohol. He poured himself a glass of wine and poured some for her own empty glass. It wasn't very polite to let someone's glass go empty, no matter the company. He was tired, and he wasn't quite certain of the question itself. Goodness, with that logic... it was quite hard to deny anything at this point. 

Tonight, he was shaken and stirred. 

CODED BY ELECTRIC OF BACK TO NEVERLAND