[Izzy Montoya] 123 not me!
[Izzy Montoya] 123 still not me!
[Carter Roth] Freedom had been gained and with it things could return to some semblance of normal. Carter still had a number to call, a number he had received well over a month ago while at a shooting range, from a woman with a very, very mean shot.
So he called the cop, that detective who’s name he had heard several times since, and arranged a meet. He called her to a bar, a ratty pool hall affair of a bar and was sitting within, nursing a whiskey as he waited for her to arrive.
[Izzy Montoya] She’d forgotten about him, to be honest. He went into the part of her mind where she filed away those who are too chicken to call, for whatever reason, and had found it necessary to retrieve any details since then. Once he called, however, she dug out the minimal details from her mind, and agreed to the meet.
Might as well. She certainly didn’t want to risk shooting a man shed thought was her friend, since discovering he was a low down no good dirty cop. Yeah. She’s bitter.
So! To a bar, it is, with another kin. She slips inside the darkened room, and unbuttons her jacket – business casual, of course. Tailored slacks and blouse under a blazer that no doubt hides her weapon. at least one of them, anyway.
[Carter Roth] Carter wasn’t a hard man to spot, six foot tall with bronzed skin that was natural, not the fake shit that everyone sprayed upon their body from cans these days. His hair was dark and heavily dreaded, held back behind his head by a leather clasp. He wore that same old leather jacket, the one made of too many pieces that indicated a poor make, but he wore it like it was his skin, a part of him Izzy for her part could tell by the fall of his jacket..that there was something heavy inside…likely a gun. Jeans and a black t-shirt rounded out the man’s attire.
He looked up as she came into the bar, not because he had seen her…perhaps more because he had just sensed like many others…that someone new had entered, and slowly blue green eyes turned to regard the woman he had met only briefly, and a slightly rakish grin crossed his lips as he rose to meet her.
[Izzy Montoya] He’s not hard to find, Carter. He stands out in a crowd, as much as she does, though perhaps for different reasons. He grins at her, and she arches a brow, slightly, allowing her lips to curve into a slight smirk as she crosses the room toward him. She weaves around the tables easily, with a grace that suggests hidden strength. Her features are strong, rather than pretty, her form lean, rather than curvy, with just enough padding in just the right places to save her from being a complete stick.
He’s taller than her by a good bit, but she’s no stranger to that, and holds a larger than life presence of her own. When she is near enough for speaking, she does so. “Mr. Roth.”
[Carter Roth] “Detective Montoya. ” He said in that deep gravelly voice as he gestured to the stool next to where he had been sitting, moving back to slide up onto his own. “Have a seat.”
He looked her up and down for the barest of moments, not so much sizing her up as remembering exactly who she was, they had been like ships in the night when they last met, bullets wizzing down a firing range, impressing each other in small ways, both of them skilled, both of them trained in a way that was similar, but still very different.
“How’s life?”
[Izzy Montoya] She snorts, slightly, and takes a seat on the stool, lifting a chin toward the bartender as he looks her direction. She points to Carter’s whiskey, and then herself, before she returns the full of her attention on the man at her side.
Who asks her how life is. She snorts – because she’s ladylike like that.
“Sucks donkey dicks. Same shit, different day. You?”
[Carter Roth] Carter chuckles that deep basso translating well into the laugh as he gives her a sidelong look. “Same shit different person.” He said as he raised his whiskey to her when she finally had her own. It was different here, they were both people of a martial sort, he of the military, her of the police force. Similar, but very..very different.
“But at least I have my freedom at this point.” He said as he looked at her again. “So, you have a first name Detective? Or are we planning on staying very formal?”
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, slightly. “Freedom… and who’d you let take that fuckin’ shit away? And why ain’t he dead?” Curious, really.
And then she chuckles. It’s not a full blown laugh by any means – rare are the few who have actually seen that. Very rare, indeed, as she can think of only two, if she were the type to think of such things at all. She lifts her drink, and takes a swallow, and then nods. “Izzy.”
[Carter Roth] He takes a swallow in turn of his own whiskey, a decent vintage that makes the fire stir in the belly, and keeps the body warm even as that feeling is a blatant lie. “Carter.” He says with a returned nod. “I figure unless were here to discuss business first names seem a bit better.”
He orders a refill for both of them, not that they were shooting through it, but just to keep them both comfortable. “And the reason he isn’t a corpse on the ground is because its Lukas.” He said as he gave her a sidelong look that told her the truth of it. “It was that, run..or die. I’m not a fan of those two options.”
[Izzy Montoya] “Ah.” Lukas. Of course.
She smirks, slightly, and shakes her head. “The full blood around here sure do like their imprisonment scenarios, don’t they? They rough ya up first, or just confine ya to fuckin’ quarters.”
sounds like she knows a bit too much about this type of thing first hand. If she had spoken at the Brotherhood meeting before he left, then he’ll remember her irritation when she spoke of her own imprisonment, though there was a distinct lack of details. If not, perhaps he heard about it elsewhere. Either way – it’s an annoying truth.
[Carter Roth] He had heard it indeed, he was there for it, and it had prompted some of his own words. Things that had to be said, yet angered so many. It had made Kora tell him to stay out of her territory, he had angered her enough to do so, he had angered the sept elder, and he had angered Lukas…it had been a read letter night.
“Pinned me down, roughed me up a bit. If the safety had been off my gun, I would have returned in kind. Of course…I probably wouldn’t be here now.” He said with a slight shrug.
“That…if you were wondering, is why I never called.”
[Izzy Montoya] She smirks. “Ah, so few men have the balls to call at all. I hadn’t given it a thought.” She hadn’t really, either. Perhaps a passing ‘wonder what happened to that guy who spouted off…’ a day or two after, but that would be all. She’s the type that simply moves on, day to day, doing her duty, and surviving.
She takes another drink though, and a shoulder rolls into a shrug. “Fucked up shit is – even at their worst, it beats the livin’ fuck outa the other guys.”
And that, right there, is the voice of experience.
[Carter Roth] “Its gotta suck to be a coward.” He said casually in response to the first item as he swirled the whiskey in its glass, watching the booze slowly run back down the side of the glass, it was cheap stuff, but still it wasn’t bad, somehow the cheap stuff never seemed bad.
He nods however. “Yeah…yeah the other guys are a fucking nightmare.” He agrees with her, it was probably why he was still here and not off to who knows where, ignoring this place forever, it was…in a way…safe.
“So, how long have you been on the force?”
[Izzy Montoya] A nightmare. That doesn’t begin to describe it. It’s odd, to her, how close she’s come to telling some of those in Chicago what happened to her. Of course, the last time, it was because she wanted to shove Amunet’s ignorance down her throat, give her a does of reality, and then shoot her repeatedly so they didn’t have to waste resources on educating the idiot. The only other time has been in bed, when scars are seen, touched, explored…. and ignored by her. Because no one needs to know. Ever.
She snorts, again. “Long enough to become a jaded fuckin’ bitch. Better’n’a decade. Most right here in Chicago. A few years in Miami.”
[Carter Roth] Carter chuckles as she speaks of being in the force for over a decade. He briefly looks over at her, looking for a cheap watch or the like, a likely ten year gift from the people on the force. “Jaded…nah, a bitch? Well maybe.” He says with that rakish grin crossing his lips, he knows how cops act, because they act alot like soldiers, this sort of talk..was just fun.
“Thats a good run, especially if you’ve made it to Detective that fast.”
[Izzy Montoya] She snorts. “Yeah, Jaded – and definitely a bitch.” It’s said with a slight smirk, that might someday, somehow, grow up into a real smile. Maybe.
There is no cheap watch – but for her own. Even if she were given one, she wouldn’t wear it. It remains at home with her other awards, tucked in a drawer, undisplayed. She simply does her duty, does what she does best. She survives, and hopefully takes down more of them before they finally get her.
She shrugs a shoulder, slightly, then smirks. “Made detective my fourth year.”
Now that. THAT is worth bragging about.
[Carter Roth] “Well well, look at the big shot.” He said with a crooked grin. “You’ve either got some serious balls, or some serious brains.”
He looked her up and down at that moment as if trying to ascertain precisely which it was she possessed before turning back and finishing off his whiskey.
“So…which is it?”
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, and lets him look, leaning back even, so that he can get a good look. If she has big balls, they are most certainly metaphorical. Even still, she retorts with a simple. “Both.”
And lips curl again into a lopsided smirk, as she takes a drink, and shrugs. “though if ya want to double check that first one, you’ll half to ask pretty please.”
[Izzy Montoya] Paws!
[Carter Roth] Carter laughs at that and cants his head to the side with a ever so slight shrug. It was obvious he was enjoying this meeting, the question was of course. How much was Izzy? He met her gaze and spoke smoothly.
“Pretty please huh? That doesn’t really sound like the sorta line you’d go for….but I could be wrong.”
[Izzy Montoya] She lifts a shoulder into a shrug, and tips her glass at him, before taking another swallow. She drinks like a fish – hell. She drinks like she’s Irish, despite the Fenrir blood that marks her the spawn of heroes. “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on who’s throwing the lines…”
She doesn’t seem inclined to leave just yet- AND she hasn’t shot him. So perhaps she’s enjoying the banter as well.
[Carter Roth] She drinks like a fish, if that were the case Carter would be the fish next to her. Both kin seem to have enough fortitude to keep up with all but the most potent of garou, neither of them really feeling the effect of the booze which was currently coursing its way through their system, threatening to blacken their livers and send them to an early grave.
Carter finishes off yet another glass, and looks at it before looking at the bartender. “Looks like we should have just kept the bottle.” He said with a wry chuckle before looking Izzy over once more. “I don’t say please for much. But its not very often you come along and find a girl who triple taps like you.”
[Izzy Montoya] She chuckles, briefly. “It’s saved my ass more than once. Hell, just a few weeks ago, our daring and dashing cousins were too busy fuckin’ bickering about who the fuck knows what – while I killed the fucker comin’ to gut them.” She snorts. “Idiots.”
She shakes her head again. “They didn’t even notice the bitch takin pictures – and stashin’ the memory card while they played big bad and broke her camera.”
[Carter Roth] Carter chuckles at that and shakes his head. “Apparently they haven’t heard of digital camera’s yet. Must be a little bit to advanced for their old way of thinking.” His voice is unimpressed, he doesn’t seem surprised though.
“I’m surprised someone as talented as you hasn’t been stripped of it and made into a baby machine.”
[Izzy Montoya] She snorts, slightly. “Stripped, I have been. Baby machine – I’ll die first, and I’m pretty fuckin’ sure they know it.”
Something passes across her face, some unnamed emotion, something just a little off, and hinting of far more to her story than she’d ever speak out loud. Then, it’s gone – so fast it might not have been there at all. “Not that they haven’t fuckin’ tried a time or two.”
[Carter Roth] Carter nods slowly, a mixture of understanding in that gesture, it was impossible for Carter to be a baby machine, after all he didn’t have the right plumbing, but it was easy to imagine him becoming some house husband to some terror, or perhaps a stud for breeding in a sept.
“They’ll try alot of things at least once. Except of course any kind of forward thinking..now that, thats fucking rediculous of course.” He snorts and shakes his head as he looks over at her.
“Good to see it didn’t come to a bullet.”
[Izzy Montoya] She chuckles. “Yeah – they love to say they’ll fuckin’ sit there, and try and improve relations, but when we suggest something, it’s ‘this is the way it’s been for thousands of years. get used to it.’ Then they wonder why we’re discontent…”
She shakes her head, and shrugs. Then, with a lopsided smirk. “Nah, the bullet scars are simply occupational hazzard.”
[Carter Roth] Carter laughs at that and raised his own brow. “Maybe we could compare scars sometime. I bet we’d rack up quite a tally you and I.” He said as he pulled out some bills at long last, as if to pay for the booze. Or at least to cover what had been drunk so far.
[Izzy Montoya] She arches a brow, slightly. “Well see, there’s where you’ll need to say pretty please. Most of them are covered by clothing, after all.”
Well, all of them really, including the set she doesn’t talk about. He pulls out money as if to pay for the booze, and she watches him. And lets him do so. Because it’s been that way for thousands of years, after all… amusement at the thought dances through her dark eyes, before she lifts her glass to finish the amber liquid within…
[Carter Roth] The booze is paid for and Carter chuckles lightly as he turns and looks Izzy straight in the face. “I wouldn’t not say it to a dangerous woman like you.” He says as he re-pockets his wallet and adjusts his coat.
“But…I like to know what I’m walking into a bit better then what I know now.” He says with that crooked grin of his. “Not to say I’m looking for serious, but I don’t dive in head first without knowing the lay of the land just a bit more.”
[Izzy Montoya] She chuckles, and nods. “Ah, a cautious one. Not often you find a man who’ll take a step back, instead of bend me over the bar.” She faces him, and arches that brow slightly.
“I can respect that, of course. If you want to see the lay of the land? Well.” She pauses, and then chuckles. “Ask whatever you want. I’ll answer.”
[Carter Roth] “The bar ain’t going anywhere.” He says with a serious look, one that says yes….he really might, police be damned.
“You involved?” Straight up and too the point, one big hurdle that well…just had to be made sure about.
[Izzy Montoya] She leans against said bar, and rests her elbow on it, propping her chin in her palm. He’s right – it isn’t going anywhere, and well, if he’s fuckin’ a cop, wouldn’t that make worrying about the police kinda mute?
But she answers. “Not exactly, no.” Then, she pauses, and sobers a touch. “There was one. He’s been undercover for over a year. I can’t get any information on him, dead or alive. So. No, not exactly.” She rolls her shoulder into a shrug. “We set up rules. Nothing serious.”
[Carter Roth] Carter nods at that not necessarily a relieved look on his face, but certainly a look that seems to say he believes her. “Good, I don’t fuck other men’s women, unless that man has a set up at least somewhat similar to what you just described.” He pauses for a moment. “I hope your man is still kicking going dark like that is never easy.”
Its an equally sobering moment, as if Carter knows at least something about that. “What do you like in bed? And what do you like to do normally?”
[Izzy Montoya] She nods, slightly. Her jaw clenches, briefly – she tries not to think about John, and that he’s likely dead, but at the same time, she can’t think of anything else most of the time. Doesn’t mean she can’t think of the one she’s with while she’s with him, though, does it?
Then he asks his other questions, and she laughs. Actually laughs. “Everything.” Which answers both, really.
[Carter Roth] He raises a brow at her answer. Everything was very vague, and spoke of a wide diversity of interests in many many ways. “Not to interested in specifics there huh?” He asks as he watches her, looking her up and down.
“Alright, better question…whats the one thing you won’t do?”
[Izzy Montoya] She lifts a shoulder into a shrug, and chuckles. “I find specifics tend to limit a person. I don’t like limits. Who’s to say I decide that with one person, I like one thing, but not others – or vice versa? I don’t like limits.”
She nods, slightly, and then that little smirk returns. “Anal. At least not on the first date.”
[Carter Roth] That gets a laugh from the man. “I think I can understand that. “You wanna know what your dealing with before you let them anywhere near that area.” He looks down at her ass for a moment before shrugging.
“I’m sure its got quite the bit of endurance, for the right guy.”
[Izzy Montoya] She chuckles, and nods. “Perhaps so. Regardless, it’s one FINE looking ass.”
So modest, the police detective, hm?
[Carter Roth] Another chuckle, the pair of them might be seen as chuckling hyena’s at this point by the rest of the patrons as they seem to find each other quite amusing, if not outright entertaining.
“I don’t know, I’ve only seen it on a stool, with pant’s on. But I’ll take your word for it. If it’s anything like the rest of you, I’m sure its fine indeed.”
[Izzy Montoya] She shakes her head, slightly. “You are a smooth one, aren’t you, Mr. Roth?”
She doesn’t seem offended, really. Its unlikely anything offends her, truth be told, hazzards of working in a male dominated field. “So – here’s the real question. that can end this conversation right now, or continue it for a few more hours, at least.”
A beat.
A smirk.
Then?
“Xbox or Wii?”
[Carter Roth] Carter laughed, a full laugh this time at the womans oh so important question, the game breaker one might say. He wouldn’t try and guess which was right though, Carter knew his preference, and if it didnt work, it didn’t work.
“Only way to go is Xbox 360.” He said with a nod as his laugh subsided. “How else will I get all that simulated warfare?”
[Izzy Montoya] He laughs, and then? Gets the answer correct. And she? Moans, softly. A full throated, delighted sound as she leans toward him and sighs happily. “Keep talking like that, and we’ll never make it to a bed…”
The only way to go indeed….
[Carter Roth] Carter’s grin becomes roguish, not just rakish, but a full on roguish winner as he looked at her as she leaned into him. “Let me guess…your game of choice is…call of duty modern warfare?” He asks as he leans in closer to her, making the gap almost non existent.
[Izzy Montoya] She mock swoons into him, and lays her head against his shoulder. Mmmmm. Muscular. Nice.
“Take me, I’m yours…”
A beat. And then she sits back up, and grins. “I play them all – if there’s a first person shooter, I own it. Of course, Strip Call Of Duty adds a little bit of spice…”
[Carter Roth] “Strip call of duty….” Carter almost asks for her to explain that one to him before shaking his head. “Nah…nah I don’t want you to explain that one to me, I want you to show me that one.” He said as he moved to stand and grinned at the cop.
“Pretty please.” His voice rumbled then, a basso that she might feel down deep, in places voices weren’t meant to reach.
[Izzy Montoya] Ahhhhh… there it is. She closes her eyes, and isn’t shy about letting the delight ripple across her face as his voice rumbles deep within her… and she sighs in contentment.
“There’s a good boy…” She stands, then, which closes whatever negligible distance between them, fingers lifting to rest against his chest with a little caress. “Come on then. I’ll drive.”
Of course, she will.
[Carter Roth] Carter nods at that looking at that look on her face and imaging a more permanent version plastered across her face later as they did who knows what to each other. He moved then, moved to follow the Detective to her car, and onward to whatever locale she called home.
“Good boy huh? When I’m through with your ass and call of duty…you won’t be saying that.”
[Izzy Montoya] She laughs then, and leads him to the unmarked police care that does nothing to really hide that it’s an official vehicle. She unlocks his door first, before going around to the drivers side and getting in.
Only then does she arch a brow, and offer him a lopsided smirk. “Promises, promises.”
[paused]