i will sail to the far shore

[magato]

[ Los Angeles is a city of easy prey, and that's nice, when he's not feeling up to a chase or trying to find new ways of getting close to Naoto. Not only that, it's where Heine lives.

At first he really thought the guy was fucking his beloved "sister". Continued denials and his own sniffing around have put that thought to rest, and then brought to light a new fact: Heine's pretty easy, too. It probably helps that he knows Magato has no interest in fame or fortune for himself. All Magato really wants is the fucking around—in all meanings of the phrase.

Speaking of fucking around, there's that one guy walking into the bar... Eames, if he remembers correctly. Sorta famous, sorta not, whatever. He definitely has a thing for Snowflake.

So of course Magato turns from where he's sitting at the bar and raises one hand in a lazy wave, fingers curling toward his palm. ]

Fancy seeing you tonight. You come here often?

Comments

[embellishing]

[Los Angeles had never been Eames' favorite city. Too much pollution, too many angry people crammed in one space, too many people who seemed burnt out and wrung out. It wasn't a happy city, but perhaps his memories of the last time he was in this place had colored them slightly.

He hadn't bothered to contact Heine since they had decided to part ways, but he had still kept in touch with Badou and Nill ( and Naoto, occasionally, but mostly she just texted 'no' and 'blocked' in response to anything he said ). Which meant that he knew slightly what Heine was up to, and none of it was good.

While he could admit to himself he was jealous of Magato, he could also say that he didn't approve of anyone who helped get someone hooked on drugs and didn't care about anyone but themself. So he was less than pleased to see that familiar greasy face hanging out at his favorite LA bar. If fate was kind, he would have been able to leave without making a scene, but fate seemed to believe Eames was overdue for some unnecessary drama.]

Magato, good to see you.

[Except it wasn't, clearly, by his tone and his lackluster approach, hands tucked in his pockets.]

I wasn't aware you had a taste for anything outside of meth or back alleys.