Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything. PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, ETC, Full starter or pic prompt, drop it like it's hot Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with Tag and go!
The Freelancers were being separated out, but that didn't really change the fact they favored certain places when they actually got time off. Not that there was a lot of that, but the occasional weekend was something of a relief. Put away the armor and try to remember how to be a normal person
Not that their taste in bars didn't mean splitting up either. Penn preferred more quiet places, somewhere he could relax and just enjoy a beer or three, which was why he'd ended up in the current bar.
It wasn't one of the normal hangouts either, but he hadn't been feeling all that social. A half empty beer sat on the table in front of him and there was a plate of food beside it and when someone joined him?
He'd sort of been expecting it. "Decided to ditch the leaderboard?"
"Reggie's in a mood." And when Wyoming's in a mood? Everyone in the top ten gets to deal with it unless they scatter. Carolina's probably holed up with Wash and Maine, the twins somewhere with Connie- Florida does whatever the hell it is he does and York called not it on putting up with that asshole so Florida is probably trying to keep Reggie from getting himself or anyone else killed.
Like he said. Not his problem today.
York's got a beer in hand and half an eye on the door inside- Usually when one of them is kicking up shit whoever's playing babysitter swings through to try and get backup. "I think Utah beat his range score or something."
"Well, there's always someone better at something." Unless you're Carolina anyway, or at least so far. Penn lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug before taking a bite of his burger.
"If it helps, I haven't seen anyone come through here so you're probably safe." He lifted his beer to his lips and took a drink. "Think the kitchen's still open if you want food too, though."
"That's just it. Utah's terrible at ranged weaponry. So Reggie either fucked up or Utah got lucky but it is not my problem." Utah's hiding with Georgia somewhere and as long as he's safe? Things should be okay. "Nah, I'm good. North and I grabbed burgers before Reggie found out about the score and had a tantrum. I think his mustache puffed up- you know- like a cat?"
"He probably fucked up, somehow. As for the mustache, I wouldn't be surprised if it gained sentience one of these days." So definitely surprised if it doubled in size due to his moods.
"Florida'll calm him down. He's got a gift for handling Wyoming or so I hear anyway."
"Handling or handling because I've heard both of those and have money on the second." Just one of many betting pools going around the MOI. What, there's only so much to keep them occupied.
"How've things been for the rest of you? Aiden giving you shit? Director stalking around all disappointed dad face?"
"Does it matter which really? He manages him so nobody else has to." And that was a blessing for everyone, really.
"Decent enough. Price seems more focused on the leaderboard than the rest of us, to be honest and the Director barely acknowledges we exist outside of the sparring room." He finiahed his beer and turned back to his food.
"So you ditched North to come looking for a hiding place?
"I get five grand if I'm right so it kinda matters." Adjusting for inflation and interest and shit but- yeah. Proof he was right would be nice but...it is damn near impossible to tell which way Florida swings.
Aside from the odd bet, no one really wants to think about it.
"South was six shots in and talking shit. That is not a South I wanna hang around. North'll keep her from getting arrested, probably." And he'll just slide along somewhere nice and quiet with one of the Agents that doesn't actively resent him for doing well.
"That's going to be a fun night for him." He tended to steer clear of South anyway. She had a tendency to overreact and that was a headache he didn't need.
"Kind of glad I'm flying under the radar, to be honest. He glanced up when the waitress brought him another beer before opening it.
"You bet 5 grand on whether they're sleeping together or not? Do I want to know what other bets are circulating about relationships in the programs?"
"You want in you gotta talk to niner. She keeps track." And pays out, holds credits, etc. The Program's personal bookie and smuggler. York is more than a little infatuated and a lot afraid.
"There's a twenty five grand one going 'round about Maine and Wash. It's bullshit but they play it up. I think there's a ten grand one on me and North." He can't keep track. "And a one grand one on Utah and Georgia."
"Nah, I'll save my money, thanks. My luck, I'd bet wrong and lose it and there better ways to spend it." He shrugged a shoulder before finishing his beer.
"I wouldn't even be remotely surprised." Because that sounds like something South would do, honestly. "Because clearly just because we spend time together when we're all stuck on the same ship, we're obviously sleeping together.
"Well you get a bunch of hot adrenaline junkies together, mix them up with the odd dash of contraband and way too little leave time? I'm surprised more people aren't screwing around." Wouldn't that make the Director's day?
"Valid point." For some of them anyway. Penn pushes his plate away and shifts to his feet, glancing at York for a moment before offering a slight smile.
"But I doubt it applies to everyone." Not that he honestly has idea, but there aren't that many of them. "Besides, if I was going to lay money on you and anyone, it'd probably be Carolina."
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Not that their taste in bars didn't mean splitting up either. Penn preferred more quiet places, somewhere he could relax and just enjoy a beer or three, which was why he'd ended up in the current bar.
It wasn't one of the normal hangouts either, but he hadn't been feeling all that social. A half empty beer sat on the table in front of him and there was a plate of food beside it and when someone joined him?
He'd sort of been expecting it. "Decided to ditch the leaderboard?"
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Like he said. Not his problem today.
York's got a beer in hand and half an eye on the door inside- Usually when one of them is kicking up shit whoever's playing babysitter swings through to try and get backup. "I think Utah beat his range score or something."
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"If it helps, I haven't seen anyone come through here so you're probably safe." He lifted his beer to his lips and took a drink. "Think the kitchen's still open if you want food too, though."
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"Florida'll calm him down. He's got a gift for handling Wyoming or so I hear anyway."
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"How've things been for the rest of you? Aiden giving you shit? Director stalking around all disappointed dad face?"
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"Decent enough. Price seems more focused on the leaderboard than the rest of us, to be honest and the Director barely acknowledges we exist outside of the sparring room." He finiahed his beer and turned back to his food.
"So you ditched North to come looking for a hiding place?
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Aside from the odd bet, no one really wants to think about it.
"South was six shots in and talking shit. That is not a South I wanna hang around. North'll keep her from getting arrested, probably." And he'll just slide along somewhere nice and quiet with one of the Agents that doesn't actively resent him for doing well.
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"Kind of glad I'm flying under the radar, to be honest. He glanced up when the waitress brought him another beer before opening it.
"You bet 5 grand on whether they're sleeping together or not? Do I want to know what other bets are circulating about relationships in the programs?"
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"There's a twenty five grand one going 'round about Maine and Wash. It's bullshit but they play it up. I think there's a ten grand one on me and North." He can't keep track. "And a one grand one on Utah and Georgia."
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"You and North? Really?"
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It makes no sense."
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"But I doubt it applies to everyone." Not that he honestly has idea, but there aren't that many of them. "Besides, if I was going to lay money on you and anyone, it'd probably be Carolina."
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"It's complicated." Fraternization rules and shit.