Fox

Ryan wasn’t really sure what spurred her on to invite to Fox over. She enjoyed the woman’s company, yet she didn’t really know her, did she? Well, I guess now would be no better time to learn about her. Screecher had said the two would get along well. For a woman who was constantly fidgeting and nervous, she read people surprisingly well. 

Rye could only huff as she dumped the popcorn into a bow/. She had planned to use the microwave bag, yet for some reason didn’t. Fuck, she had even went out a bought cinnamon. She was trying to be nice. That’s what she told herself. Make a good first impression is what her mother always said. The first one matters the most.

Rye sighed. It had been, as her mandatory therapist had said, a ‘bad mental health day’. She felt more on edge than normal. Like her skin was itching and pulled wrong. She shook the feeling. A tattooed hand running through her short black hair.

No, not nervous. Guarded maybe?

Rye isn’t someone she’s close with.

Though she is someone that Fox is… potentially somewhat partial to.

The woman had a sense of humor. They’ve had an entertaining back and forth a handful of times now. She was—as far as Fox is aware—a reliable colleague as well, and fairly cordial.

Her company didn’t drain Fox’s mental energy quite as heavily as interacting with most people did, either.

Still, she isn’t familiar in a way that Fox would be willing to let down all her walls for. She hardly does that for the people who are closest to her.

Rye could be a companion. Fox could let herself have that without being entirely skittish about the prospect of being vulnerable. Surely.

She dressed comfortably for the casual occasion. Dark grey sweats and one of her longer t-shirts in a dark blue. Loungewear, essentially.

She holds a small pack of root beer in one hand at her side—she felt weird not bringing anything so she picked it up on the way. Even if Rye didn’t want any, Fox would.

She ended up standing in front of Rye’s door for a lot longer than she intended when she first got there. Staring at the wood like it might enlighten her about how to handle a one-on-one, casual social interaction like a normal person, and not like she’s never had a single social experience in her entire life.

“Foxy,” she smiled, shoulders relaxing. Rye smiles a bit, though it was a little tired. Her energy was faltering with her “bad mental health day,” she had scoffed when the woman had told her that.

“Come on in” rye moved out of the way.

Her ‘house’ was like any other, the same setup as most dorms on base. The walls were white, with fake wooden( plastic) floors. But it was still surprisingly cozy. Rye was no designer, by any means, but the house was still homey. It had a more natural, woodsy vibe. Green accented the place, with Warm red and browns.

Being greeted by Rye with that nickname, and seeing the way the woman’s entire posture practically softened a bit in response to her presence made her own tension ebb a little.

“Hey,” she says as she’s led into Rye’s living space. Once inside, she gestures to the pack of drinks in her hand. “I brought root beer. Didn’t know if you’d want any, or if you’d have your own drinks, but… figured I’d bring something.”

As her attention shifts to the interior, she took quiet notice of how Rye has personalized the room. The earth tones were a pleasant surprise. She’s not sure what exactly she’d been expecting, she doesn’t usually imagine what the homes of her colleagues look like, so maybe she hadn’t pictured it at all.

She found it seemed fitting to Rye’s character, though.

Fox did take a glance at the photos nearest to her on the wall adjacent the door, mildly curious, but not lingering long enough to snoop.

Mine

....I don't mind

@screecher-call

@rambunctiouslyram

@sergeantstefansson

The next one would beeee

A picture of Kegan from COD 🤷‍♀️

Ryan wasn’t really sure what spurred her on to invite to Fox over. She enjoyed the woman’s company, yet she didn’t really know her, did she? Well, I guess now would be no better time to learn about her. Screecher had said the two would get along well. For a woman who was constantly fidgeting and nervous, she read people surprisingly well. 

Rye could only huff as she dumped the popcorn into a bow/. She had planned to use the microwave bag, yet for some reason didn’t. Fuck, she had even went out a bought cinnamon. She was trying to be nice. That’s what she told herself. Make a good first impression is what her mother always said. The first one matters the most.

Rye sighed. It had been, as her mandatory therapist had said, a ‘bad mental health day’. She felt more on edge than normal. Like her skin was itching and pulled wrong. She shook the feeling. A tattooed hand running through her short black hair.

No, not nervous. Guarded maybe?

Rye isn’t someone she’s close with.

Though she is someone that Fox is… potentially somewhat partial to.

The woman had a sense of humor. They’ve had an entertaining back and forth a handful of times now. She was—as far as Fox is aware—a reliable colleague as well, and fairly cordial.

Her company didn’t drain Fox’s mental energy quite as heavily as interacting with most people did, either.

Still, she isn’t familiar in a way that Fox would be willing to let down all her walls for. She hardly does that for the people who are closest to her.

Rye could be a companion. Fox could let herself have that without being entirely skittish about the prospect of being vulnerable. Surely.

She dressed comfortably for the casual occasion. Dark grey sweats and one of her longer t-shirts in a dark blue. Loungewear, essentially.

She holds a small pack of root beer in one hand at her side—she felt weird not bringing anything so she picked it up on the way. Even if Rye didn’t want any, Fox would.

She ended up standing in front of Rye’s door for a lot longer than she intended when she first got there. Staring at the wood like it might enlighten her about how to handle a one-on-one, casual social interaction like a normal person, and not like she’s never had a single social experience in her entire life.

0701 [ TXT ] : what's your favorite popcorn flavor?

[ TXT ] : Just butter and salt-?

“Foxy” Is Typing…

[ TXT ] : …Sometimes I add cinnamon and honey. If I’m in the mood.

[ TXT ]: gonna ask if you wanted to go watch the Fantastic Mister Fox

“Stale Bread” is Typing

“Stale Bread” is typing…

[ TXT ] : Well, since you asked so nicely.

…

[ TXT ] : In complete honesty… that does sound sort of nice.

0701 [ TXT ] : what's your favorite popcorn flavor?

[ TXT ] : Just butter and salt-?

“Foxy” Is Typing…

[ TXT ] : …Sometimes I add cinnamon and honey. If I’m in the mood.

[ TXT ]: gonna ask if you wanted to go watch the Fantastic Mister Fox

“Stale Bread” is Typing

“Stale Bread” is typing…

[ TXT ] : Well, since you asked so nicely.

…

[ TXT ] : In complete honesty… that does sound sort of nice.

0701 [ TXT ] : what's your favorite popcorn flavor?

[ TXT ] : Just butter and salt-?

“Foxy” Is Typing…

[ TXT ] : …Sometimes I add cinnamon and honey. If I’m in the mood.

[ TXT ]: gonna ask if you wanted to go watch the Fantastic Mister Fox

“Stale Bread” is Typing

– Open RP EVENT: A Stealthy Suspicion –

[ TW: Mentions of drugs, murder and planned mass arson ]

"We're gonna rendezvous with a contact Laswell set up an appointment with. Says they know the city and more details on the trafficking ring. Refused to give intel unless she sent someone to meet em personally though..."

Clover huff running a hand through her hair.

"Meeting place ain't too far so we could grab a coffee before we-"

Clover let out a startled grunt as she was suddenly ran into by a tree of all things.

"Hey! Watch it!"

Clover slightly growled at the man as she craned her neck up to give him a slight glare. As he quickly apologized she quickly eyed him up and down before he left. she grew quiet eyeing the mans retreating form. Her brows stitched together into a deep scowl.

"Change of plans..."

She suddenly spoke nodding her head to the man traveling down the street.

"We're following him."

Clover spoke before raising a hand to her ear piece pushing in a button on the ear piece before speaking. Her steps moving to follow the stranger thathad just bumped into her form a good distance.

"Laswell come in. It's Clover. Is there any possible intel that says there is another group of operatives out here?"

She was quiet listening to Laswell on the other line and let out a huff.

"Fucking great..."

She grumbled in annoyance.

"Find that out. I don't want to be accidently stepping on someone elses toes."

Lowering her hand she glanced at @f0xinthefield.

Sure she’s been to many different places over the years in her line of work, but big cities like this were not the most common. They were also the types of places she’d always deem least memorable.

Mostly because there was very little about them that she wanted to remember.

The smell of exhaust and hot garbage makes her wrinkle her nose. The sounds of car horns, the occasional siren and construction work easily carry through the busy streets and have her fighting the urge to beeline for any possible quiet place to escape to.

She can’t do that here, she knows, and she won’t. She’s learned well enough how to cope with discomfort for the sake of doing her job well.

And she does.

Though it didn’t change her point of view; cityscapes were not her style.

The scuff of shoes on pavement was a near constant with the crowds moving around the area. People moving to and fro in both directions along the walkways.

Fox follows at Clover’s shoulder as they weave through the crowds, hands in her pockets and keeping an eye on their unfamiliar surroundings as they navigate the sensory-overload of an environment.

Fox, like her colleague, is dressed in civilians for this mission. Dark well worn jeans, a grey henley shirt, and a black leather jacket. Practical.

Her attention shifted towards Clover at the suggestion of stopping for a coffee, Fox was about to respond when someone bumped into Clover’s other side.

Her steps halted, body turning towards them instinctively to confront or assist—then she stopped again within a second as Clover simultaneously spun to snap at the stranger, who apologized nervously.

Fox said nothing, observing how Clover handled it instead.

Something about the man’s flighty demeanor was quick to catch attention, however.

Maybe he was just an anxious fellow, maybe he had his own problems he was late for dealing with, but as she watched him interact with Clover and then proceed to make a swift exit she couldn’t help but feel something was off.

Fox’s calculating gaze lingered for a second or two before drawing away from the man’s retreating form. When it settled back on Clover, she searched her expression briefly.

They were on the same page before Clover even announced the change of plans. Fox was just waiting for the confirmation.

As they pivoted to switch directions, now tailing the man from a distance, Fox remained silent and watchful as Clover spoke through her ear piece.

When they made eye contact again, she finally spoke to answer.

“And here I thought we’d be having a nice relaxing stroll downtown.”

The sarcasm was evident, though it’s clear she understood the instruction based on her affirmative nod.

She hadn’t truly expected this mission to be easy. Whether it’d be due to a lack of cooperation on their contact’s side of things, or something else getting in the way of a smooth completion.

There’s always something.

A hour earlier

[ TXT ] : Have ya ever had Johnny walker?

“Stale bread” is typing

[ TXT ] : I'm watching Fantastic Mister Fox rn Foxy. All I can think about is you watching it with me

[ TXT ] : don't use this against me, K

(she's saying ‘K’ as a nickname for Fox)

@rye-bread-call

Rye’s messages have the ‘read’ icon appear beside them. It lingers for a minute or two before a reply is sent.

“Foxy” Is Typing…

[ TXT ] : No, I haven’t. I don’t care much for alcohol.

A pause before the next messages.

[ TXT ] : Careful, almost sounds like you’re going soft on me.

[TXT ] : don't get into it then Foxy. It's a

(the message doesn't finish as she cut herself off in text, then mindlessly sent it)

[ TXT ] : Are you implying you want company?

“Foxy” Is Typing…

Fox can only shake her head slightly at the screen as if Rye could sense her subtle exasperation.

“Foxy” Is Typing…

[ TXT ] : Have a proper meal and drink something other than scotch,

A hour earlier

[ TXT ] : Have ya ever had Johnny walker?

“Stale bread” is typing

[ TXT ] : I'm watching Fantastic Mister Fox rn Foxy. All I can think about is you watching it with me

[ TXT ] : don't use this against me, K

(she's saying ‘K’ as a nickname for Fox)

@rye-bread-call

Rye’s messages have the ‘read’ icon appear beside them. It lingers for a minute or two before a reply is sent.

“Foxy” Is Typing…

[ TXT ] : No, I haven’t. I don’t care much for alcohol.

A pause before the next messages.

[ TXT ] : Careful, almost sounds like you’re going soft on me.

[TXT ] : don't get into it then Foxy. It's a

(the message doesn't finish as she cut herself off in text, then mindlessly sent it)

[ TXT ] : Are you implying you want company?

“Foxy” Is Typing…