cuddletalk | text | un: vaquero

hold the button down.
the phone will chime and you can ask it a question.

you could say "hey phone: como sé dice... en inglés" it will give you a translation. i use it all the time back home when i can't remember a word.

or you could just say "hey phone: text robbie that i want dinner and drinks."

[this is clearly going swimmingly. look at him trying ~~and failing~~ to teach an old cowboy new tricks.]

Who is a Robbie? What is a Robbie?

[He's taking small victories in the fact that he'd eventually mashed some buttons and the little device started to yell at him that he could talk over a network, but more importantly, he knows enough to have read the most important part of Robbie's text]

I need a drink. More than one, if I have to keep dealing with this demon box.

I'm Robbie. Robbie Reyes. It's nice to meet you.

[well would ya look at that. guess mr. cowboy's managed to figure out the phone with a little help. robbie's happy to offer up his assistance in person. seems like a nice thing to do.]

Hate to break it to you, but the phone's the wave of the future. You're probably gonna be real drunk before long. How's about we meet up and I give you a few tips in person?

Tell me where you're at and I'll meet you. It'll be easier than trying to explain the GPS.

Reyes?

[Why is that so comforting, strangely? Vasquez isn't exactly that desperate to hear a familiar name, but he has been surrounded by a lot of annoying white men these last few years]

I would be happy to be very, very drunk. I don't know where I am, it all looks confusing and very strange

[Probably doesn't help that he's still coming off the high of adrenaline from the battle and being shot, but he squints into the little "phone" as he angles it around like he's trying to do something with it, but when he does, he sees a building]

Gamma building? Is that something you know?

That's the name. Don't wear it out.

[it's probably not the smartest move to use a statement that vasquez clearly won't have any frame of reference for, but it's already done and gone before robbie can think better of it.

he's about to ask vasquez to take a picture if he can't figure out exactly where he is, but then he realizes it's probably asking a whole lot from someone who called their devices the demon box. someone must be looking out for them both because he mentions gamma specifically. that? he can do.]

yeah. it's a building over from me. just head to the lobby. i'll meet you there.

Haven't met a Reyes in years.

[It's all Smiths and Faradays and Does, names that you could find in any city whatsoever, which is irritable to begin with. Worse, though, is being in some strange city with a voice coming out of a box telling him that he's going to come and meet him. Cursing under his breath, he's grateful at least that apparently he's not going to suffer alone]

Lobby. There's a lot of people in the lobby.

[Could be that Vasquez might just be a little too jumpy around people, still, but he's not intending to say that so loudly]

it's not as common as rodriguez in los angeles, but there's hardly a shortage.

[he hasn't checked the census data, but robbie's pretty sure he's not the only reyes in either los angeles or orange county. vasquez's comment is a tad disconcerting. he doesn't love crowds either but to make it a point to say that there's lots of people in the lobby. hmm.]

you worried you won't be able to figure out which of them is me? here. i'll send you a picture. swear i'm not catfishing.

[attached img]

[In the process of opening up the picture, Vasquez also opens the maps function, accidentally misdails a bunch of mismashed numbers, and takes a confused picture of himself in the process. Then, he opens it to squint at a too-fresh face of someone who clearly hasn't been in a fight, not today at least]

maybe instead, we meet outside the lobby

[Easier for him to run, if it comes to that. He hangs up, probably rudely, but it had been an accident when he tries to close the picture and instead ends the call, ending up standing outside the lobby, as promised, wondering if this is some very elaborate trap]

[he reads that last message from vasquez and shakes his head with a quiet laugh.

robbie heads outside, zipping up his jacket as he exits. a cursory glance and he spots vasquez looking clearly out of sorts, dressed like he just stepped out of a john wayne film.]

Hey man. Nice hat. Let's go get some drinks. I'll show you how to work that phone.

[The trouble with being a six-foot-four cowboy in the middle of a strange place, with a bloody shirt is that it's hard not to call attention to yourself. Not to mention, Vasquez still isn't sure that people here aren't just waiting for the right moment to haul him in. Hand on his lasso, the only reason Reyes isn't tied up is because he'd seen the picture. Apparently the little devil box is worth some good]

I'm glad you said plural drinks. I've had the kind of day where you need more than one.

[Does everyone here get so eager to help? Or is he just in a city of naive, determined do-gooders, like they bled over from Rose Creek]

[if it's any consolation, robbie's really not all that phased by the bloody shirt or even the fact that he's the shorter one in this little encounter. seeing vasquez with his lasso makes him sorely miss his chain, but there's not really a need for it around here and the one time he'd taken it around with him people had looked at him like he was a thug or something.]

No point to going out for just one drink. My car's just across the way. [robbie points toward the charger, currently illegally parked under two oak trees about thirty feet from where they're standing. he moves toward said vehicle but not before a pointed look back at vasquez and a question that's been nagging him since he first spotted the man.]

So... is this cowboy get up the real deal?

[Vasquez is still keeping an eye over his shoulder every step he takes, especially when it seems like there are more people around than before. There are so many people than he's used to, not sure what's going on. That doubt doesn't exactly improve when Reyes shows him a great thing that looks as if the train has shrunken into something very strange. He tips a wary look to Reyes, scoffing as he does]

Not sure what you mean. You never seen a vaquero before, amigo? Just fancy cars?

[He says the word with a lot of doubt, because he's not really sure what a car is, even though he's got some ideas judging by the shape of it. The drink part, though, he's still very much wanting a drink]

I take it there's no horses around here?

There's not a whole lot of need for them in the city. Maybe out in the desert or on a ranch. Can't get anywhere without a car in Los Angeles.

[robbie's guessing to be honest. he's a city boy through and through. the closest he's ever been to a horse is seeing them penned up on the side of the road on the rare instances that he's left the city and gone far enough away from la that the haze clears and the stars actually shine at night.

it's pretty obvious that vasquez isn't from anything that resembles the modern age. the hint of uncertainty around his car, the way he pauses with his words. and the comment about horses... robbie shrugs his shoulders, uncertain.]

I haven't seen any, but I also haven't gone looking.

[At least there's still ranches, though the mention of Los Angeles is still a sore spot, given that Vasquez had been a child when that land had been taken away from them too after a bloody war, with his father representing their family in that one]

Are they as fast as trains? If they are, better than a horse, anyway.

[Noisier, though, not like you could go anywhere under the cover of secrecy, though Vasquez is starting to wonder if that's even needed here. He runs a hand over the top of it like he might pet the flank of a horse, staring down into it and squinting as he takes off his hat to peer at it, smelling deeply]

Lot nicer than any train I've seen.

Depends on the car and the train. Definitely faster than a horse, though.

[robbie quirks an eyebrow at that particular behavior. cringes internally as the lyrics to 'wanted dead or alive' come to mind. he swings around to unlock his door, sliding inside before leaning over to unlock the other side. the bench]

Probably means as much to me as a horse might to you.

Probably won't bite as much, either.

[Not that his ever did, really, because he didn't ride a demon horse like Faraday, but still, there had been days when she and he didn't see eye to eye and it was difficult to get along. He crouches down to peer inside and folds himself down into it, running his hands over it and trying to get used to it. Not sure he will, not really]

Does everyone have one? Or is it just for some people who can afford the very best?

No. No biting. Worst thing might be a hard stop. [doesn't stop him from laughing at the idea of a car with teeth. how ridiculous. robbie knows this must be a very unusual experience for someone who's used to horses and carts and probably hasn't seen this much pavement ever, so he's not itching to leave right off and is happy to let vasquez do as much examining of his surroundings as need be.]

Back home they do. It's kind of a requirement in most cities. They're too big to get from A to B without one and public transit is a nightmare. Some cars are expensive. Some are pretty cheap. And if you buy a used one, sometimes it's a better deal than a brand new one. Just depends. You thinking about it?

There's a lot of horsepower under the hood of something like this.

How big do the cities get in the future?

[He's not a scholar like Goodnight, but there's still a few things that are hard to ignore right now and if Vasquez had to make a guess, he'd say that somehow he wound up very much in the future where he doesn't understand how, but here he is, sitting in someone's car. That drink is still too far off, though, not yet. He gives Reyes a dubious look and a snort]

Horsepower? You replace horses with cars, but still talk about them in terms of how much power of the horses?

[how big do cities get? he has to wonder as he scratches at his temple. he doesn't actually know how big los angeles actually is, but he does know about how big the world is.]

Not sure? I mean there's like six billion people in the world. It's fair to say really big.

[robbie finally turns the ignition to the car, bringing all that power to life as he shrugs his shoulders in reply.]

Beats me why. I didn't choose the term. Figure it just made sense when they first started making them and it's stuck around since then.

Six b...

[How can there be that many people? How can that number even exist? He'd protest more, but he physically jumps in his seat when the motor turns over and startles him into grabbing at whatever he can]

Me cago en todo lo que se menea! What is that, what is it doing?

[it's hard to hide his amusement at seeing vasquez jerk at the sound of the engine turning over, hand reaching for a sturdy hand hold as he appears visibly shaken.] That is the sound of more than 300 horsepower.

Now that it's started, it's not doing anything other than idling. [robbie turns toward vasquez for a moment.] You gonna be alright when I move? Might want to buckle in if you're worried. [he points at the seatbelt and buckle just in case.]

That is unnecessary noise. It's like two trains colliding.

[Except not at all, not entirely, but Vasquez needs to cover for how spooked he'd just become. He searches around him and eyes the buckle for a moment before drawing it back and forth, as if to test it, giving it a little more pull each time. He glances down towards the actual buckle and then clicks it in, staring at it warily]

Don't have to do that with a horse. If you get thrown off, then you get thrown off and probably knock your head until you bleed. [He gestures for Reyes to move] Go, we can go.

Maybe two very tiny trains.

[he says with a shrug. robbie's used to the sound of the charger, finds it oddly comforting. he hurries through the motion of buckling himself in. safety first.]

Yeah the goal is to not knock your head into the glass on the off chance that something happens. [without any further ado, he puts the car into gear and speeds them toward the colonel's.] Don't worry. I'm a good driver.

[It's not that funny, but Vasquez still snorts a little, seeing as he needs a little bit of humour right now, what with his life going up in the air with no explanation and no reason about why any of this is happening. He stares at the belt and then does the same, wondering why it's such a fuss, but it's not his car, is it?]

I just survived a suicide mission. Don't kill me now that I made it out.

Suicide mission huh? Guess that means we both just barely escaped dying. Sounds like a damn good reason for a drink.

[it's not long before they arrive, and robbie kills the engine, pulling the keys and stuffing them in his pocket without any further word. he doesn't bother to check and see if vasquez is following, figuring the other man is more than ready to be free of the passenger seat.

the colonel's is thankfully quiet this time of day. a plus for vasquez who seems like the idea of a crowded bar is the last thing he wants do deal with right now. robbie grabs a seat a the bar, holds up his finger to grab the attention of the bartender and orders a beer.]

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