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!
"I've seen stranger official first names. You don't see me making fun of yours." Nooot that she knows it. Short answer is no, Pidge was going to be it. It's got to be something...hm, does it have to be manly? The P sound starts popping off her lips while she starts running through a list of emergency names. "Pluto, Pascal, Ping," didn't say they were good names, just emergency off the top of the head names, "Price, Peter, Pietro, Pierce, Pippin--you're sure you can't swing for the fences with Pidge?"
"You don't know mine." Pidge is not going on the official record, kiddo. Homie don't play that. A kid getting new documents is going to pull enough attention as it is, he doesn't need to court disaster by being less than 100% solid on the rest of it. "What kind of parents would name their kid 'Pidge'? What kind of cruel joke would that be, huh? Trust me. You wanna get by? Having a better name for the legal documents will be your best bet. Go by Pidge informally, I don't care."
"Kaidan?" She'd been avoiding K's, just in case. "...Keith?" She definitely doesn't look like a Takashi, and the last thing she would ever go with is a Sam or a Matt. "What kind of name do I look like?"
There's the tiniest moment of triumph when he goes for masculine names. "Brian Gunderson," she tries out. Well, that'll take some getting used to, but whatever, she'll mostly be introducing herself as Pidge anyway.
"Ok, Brian Gunderson, Where are you from and- ok this is where I ask 'what do you do' but you're obviously a student but that kinda throws a wrench in the works. If you're a student you should be enrolled in classes and while I will fake some academic extracurriculars I tend to draw the line at pulling up a GPA out of whole cloth." Oh, scruples. He has a few.
Pidge adjusts her glasses and tries to look very Smart and Adult. "I graduated early after being moved up a couple grades. Maybe I'm an exchange student? Or I've taken a year to travel abroad?"
"Bullshit, spin something else." It's not angry just. Pointing shit out. "If you were like six inches taller and more than ninety pounds soaking wet, I might buy that. You look twelve."
"Fourteen at the most." And that's stretching it a bit. "No family that has a home schooled kid would ship them off without a lot of connections. I can forge them but the more you have the more curious people are gonna be. What's your endgame, here?"
"Sixteen." No, she's fourteen, but she wants Brian Gunderson to be sixteen! He can make that happen, right?
She sits back, considering the question...but then realizes that this is a tricky game here. "...Do you mean my new identity's endgame or my actual endgame?"
"What is your goal with this? I know what you wanna do, where you wanna go? It makes building a believable background easier." Tailor made lives in the blink of an eye, that's the tagline to this business.
Well.
Not really they don't use taglines but if he had one that'd be it.
"And no way you're sixteen unless your parents are tiny. Which I can swing but- damn."
"I thought if I paid you, you could make me the identity I wanted." But to be very fair... "I guess the identity has to also be really believable..." Yeah. That is what the money is for. To make sure it's a good one.
"Visiting relatives on another world. Or maybe looking at prospective schools, shopping around? I might need a reason to be on the move."
"You paid me to give you something that'll stand up to government, military, and academic inquiry. This isn't some fake ID you flash to get in the club, kid. This is something you can file a tax return with." Several of his clients have. It's been good to see his work stands up.
"Both of those work. School hunting is less likely to need fabrication of your family, not that I won't anyway but it'll take less detail."
"One can never be too young to find the right interplanetary school to eventually spend wasted years amassing debt at." Just because she's bunk at streetsmarts... She bounces a leg nervously. Were this a different situation, this would look even sketchier than it already is, a young girl running off with a mysterious stranger.
"This new life, though. I know it's meant to stand up to all the tests. Do people ever come back to their old lives? That you know of?"
"Ok, now I buy that you're fifteen. Twelve year olds are never that cynical." He plugs in the appropriate age as he flicks through their options. "Where are you from?"
Was she always that cynical, or is that just her sense of humor? Or maybe it's just developed since--her family. But that doesn't hold her attention for long because, wow, rude, way to just ignore her question completely.
"Altea," she supplies, then pushes off the couch and comes to totally not hover by his elbow, peering at his more technological setup. "But do people come back to their own lives of their own will? Not by getting outed, I mean. Or is everyone who hires you looking to disappear for good?"
"Good choice." He lets the kid look for a moment before turning to peer at her, white scarred eye and all. "Rude."
That's it. No poking, no glaring, just a peer and a word. Come on, kid, you gotta know better than that. "Not my problem after I finish my job. They take their files and photos and go wherever. They do whatever they're gonna do, I take my money and go get more parts for my bike."
Or beer.
Or go to a strip club but, yeah, not saying that in front of the kid.
"Hey, I'm not touching." Looking's not rude! Looking can be admiring. She's bold enough to stare right back at him, and that overwhelming feeling of familiarity comes back. That kind of scarring is pretty distinctive. Maybe subtract a few years...?
"I guess that's good," she starts slowly, and maybe peering at him is rude, but Pidge is no paragon of manners. Much to her mother's chagrin. "Means you don't keep asking questions once these questions are done. Easy business deal."
"Do you like it when people look over your shoulder while you're working?" Rude. He maintains, rude.
And yeah, it's pretty distinctive scarring- but he's been listed as dead long enough by enough notable publications on the other side of the galaxy to not have to worry about it for the most part. No one that knows or cares or even has his data is anywhere near this damn city. "So. Pidge, looking for schools, fifteen. Step up to the screen and we'll take a few photos. Did you want to redo your fingerprints too or not?"
"They can look so long as they don't touch. Maybe I like showing off." Or maybe she'd like to, but what she does is either way over everyone else orrrrr illegal. So.
She moves off to step up, wondering for a moment--glasses on, glasses off? Better keep them on. It's amazing what just the addition of eyewear can do to distort what people see. Her brain is still puzzling out the mystery of, er, the Mystery Contact. "I don't plan on getting in enough trouble that I should get my prints taken." But if she does get into that kind of trouble, it's probably going to be the kind where she either dies or is thrown in a facility that doesn't care immediately for standard procedure.
"Sit back, Pidge." He doesn't go so far as to touch because- child. Actual child. Teenager, sure but. A kid. You don't just go around poking kids, even if they're all in your space. He has some restraint, after all. "Good, I haven't done the process on someone as young as you before and can't say if it'd grow out or not. Also? Stings like a bi-"
"Do you have a name I can call you by at least while I'm here?" Pidge asks, doing as told. "Since you have a name you can call me, and there's really not a lot of good nicknames I can think of involving motorcycles."
She glances over again, smirking. "Aww, look--identity forger's got scruples."
"Taylor." It's honest enough (real name) and irregularly used enough (everyone in the project called him York) to make it safe. The only people that knew it was his are dead or think he's dead.
It works.
"I might be a criminal but I am a criminal with standards."
Hmm. She can't assume it's his real name, but she shuffles that off into her mental database as well. "I appreciate you not taking the money and running and also doing a thorough job of this whole setup." Even if it's run out of a bachelor pad garage. "I knew there was a reason I hired you."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Easy, whitebread, grew up in the suburbs and had a good family kinda names.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
She sits back, considering the question...but then realizes that this is a tricky game here. "...Do you mean my new identity's endgame or my actual endgame?"
no subject
Well.
Not really they don't use taglines but if he had one that'd be it.
"And no way you're sixteen unless your parents are tiny. Which I can swing but- damn."
no subject
"Visiting relatives on another world. Or maybe looking at prospective schools, shopping around? I might need a reason to be on the move."
no subject
"Both of those work. School hunting is less likely to need fabrication of your family, not that I won't anyway but it'll take less detail."
no subject
"This new life, though. I know it's meant to stand up to all the tests. Do people ever come back to their old lives? That you know of?"
no subject
no subject
"Altea," she supplies, then pushes off the couch and comes to totally not hover by his elbow, peering at his more technological setup. "But do people come back to their own lives of their own will? Not by getting outed, I mean. Or is everyone who hires you looking to disappear for good?"
no subject
That's it. No poking, no glaring, just a peer and a word. Come on, kid, you gotta know better than that. "Not my problem after I finish my job. They take their files and photos and go wherever. They do whatever they're gonna do, I take my money and go get more parts for my bike."
Or beer.
Or go to a strip club but, yeah, not saying that in front of the kid.
no subject
"I guess that's good," she starts slowly, and maybe peering at him is rude, but Pidge is no paragon of manners. Much to her mother's chagrin. "Means you don't keep asking questions once these questions are done. Easy business deal."
no subject
And yeah, it's pretty distinctive scarring- but he's been listed as dead long enough by enough notable publications on the other side of the galaxy to not have to worry about it for the most part. No one that knows or cares or even has his data is anywhere near this damn city. "So. Pidge, looking for schools, fifteen. Step up to the screen and we'll take a few photos. Did you want to redo your fingerprints too or not?"
no subject
She moves off to step up, wondering for a moment--glasses on, glasses off? Better keep them on. It's amazing what just the addition of eyewear can do to distort what people see. Her brain is still puzzling out the mystery of, er, the Mystery Contact. "I don't plan on getting in enough trouble that I should get my prints taken." But if she does get into that kind of trouble, it's probably going to be the kind where she either dies or is thrown in a facility that doesn't care immediately for standard procedure.
no subject
Shit.
"It hurts."
no subject
She glances over again, smirking. "Aww, look--identity forger's got scruples."
no subject
It works.
"I might be a criminal but I am a criminal with standards."
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)