18:00 Oct 13, 2014

Fia walked through the door Taft was holding open for her and took a look around. She had been hearing about O'Malley's since the day she arrived in the mountain, less than two weeks later here she was. It seemed pretty typical for a good steak house. No peanuts strewn on the floor, no talking animatronic trophies on the walls, by all accounts O'Malley's didn't need a gimmick. Their steaks were just that good. There was a bar along one wall, with a pool table tucked close by, the rest of the room was mostly empty tables and booths.

The atmosphere was somewhat casual, which was good since she and Taft just come from spending a day at the range. She was in jeans and a henley, her olive field coat over them. It had started to get colder at night, though certainly not like when she was growing up. Fia was pretty sure her hair still smelled of smoke and gunpowder and her hands of gun oil. Somehow she didn't think Taft would mind.

They seemed rather quiet, so Fia wasn't surprised when the hostess immediately trotted over. Two, please. She answered the unspoken question just as Taft joined her. You want a booth or table, Handsome?

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Taft walked in behind her in black BDUs, black boots mostly covered by the pants, a dark green t-shirt with matching flight jacket (he hated the name but he loved the upper arm pocket). He'd been there before, so he didn't marvel about the place. The Sgt Major was busy field inspecting the Major's rear chassis assembly and tow package...

He looked up and blinked. "Doesn't matter, we can get into trouble in either. Booth." He ventured the last word as something of a guess. That way they'd have some semblance of privacy even as they ate in a place known to be frequented by members of the same program they were assigned to. In fact, he swore the three guys checking out the juke box were gate men with NORAD. But he pushed that out of his head. He wanted a meal with his woman without playing 20 questions about his injury before. Especially with an officer, for whom he'd be obligated to sit there and entertain if he didn't want trouble on base getting things done up stream.

As the hostess started leading them, Taft put his hand in the small of Fia's back and guided her passively on. He was absolutely nonplussed by the smells of the gun range that clung to both of them. Even Taft. Even after a half a bottle of lava soap.

Fia hadn't missed Taft checking her out. The entire day had been like that, innuendo and attraction held in check. She had managed to sneak in a few stolen kisses, but it was the banter that had kept her smiling all day. She still clearly remembered the range-master's double take the first time he actually overheard their conversation. Fia got the impression this was not someplace Taft usually brought his lady friends. In fact there were appallingly few women there at all. Which had made out shooting the local yokels even more enjoyable. The only ones who even gave her a challenge were the range master and Taft himself. In the end to was a draw between herself and Taft of a sort. She was the better shot with a sidearm that day, but he blew her away where rifles were concerned. Just another example of how alike-yet-not they were.

Fia slipped out of her coat, tossing it into the corner of the booth before sliding onto the bench seat. Resting her chin in her hand, she admired as Taft sat opposite her. I assume you've been here before? Anything I should stay away from?

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"About once a week, but all I ever get is the steak with the garlic butter on top, green beans, and garlic mashed potatoes." He sat down and then just pulled his jacket off and down so it lay behind him. He placed his forearms against the edge of the table and then linked his fingers, never ever letting his elbows touch the surface. Mama Taft would spontaneously appear with wooden spoon in hand if he ever did and that was two eventualities he didn't want to deal with that evening.

It was just about that time the waitress came walking up, pulling her pen out and flipping open her order pad. "What can I get for you fol..." She had just glanced at Taft when she said you and made it halfway through her next word before blinking and doing a double take. She looked back at the bar, far seat, and then back to Taft. "You're not at the bar.... weird. So, the usual for you and what can I get for you miss?"

Taft waited, completely undisturbed by the reaction, until she stated the usual for him at which he nodded. He really liked that steak. And they brought him lemonade because they couldn't justify keeping a pot of sweet tea in the back for him.

I think the usual sounds delightful. And is I could have a hard cidar as well? Pear if you have it, Apple if you don't. Fia smiled up at the waitress. She would have given anything to know what was going on in the girls head. Taft was obviously a regular, and just as obviously he usually came alone. But the waitress gave no indication of her thoughts beyond the order.

Chuckling at herself, Fia turned her attention back to someone far more interesting. She wanted to reach over and take his hand, but she was still unsure of public protocol. So she settled for resting her foot lightly on top of his, the shoes took a lot of the fun out of the gesture but the thought was stilll there. So thank you for letting me play with Xenia. She had a bit more of a kick than I expected, but she is quite the beauty.

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The waitress nodded with a bright smile aimed only at Fia and moved to put in the order. Efficiency is key.

He chuckled once she was gone. The girl had been quick to adapt to Taft as a patron. When he came in he wanted to eat his meal, not be bothered, not have anyone sitting next to him if possible, and he tipped very well as long as all that was at least attempted. Basically, as long as the other seats at the bar filled up before the one beside him and she filled his lemonade every time she walked by, she made a good tip without having to divide her attention for him. And he didn't get bothered when he wasn't obligated by the United States Marine Corp to be bothered by other people. Win/Win.

"Well, we've been talking about bringing another woman into the relationship for a while. I like ya, she trusts ya, and I feel like it worked out pretty well. She says you have soft hands." Taft slowly started to grin.

Fia eyes grew wide as he spoke of Xenia like a lover. Not because he was personifying a lethal weapon, but because he had the audacity to joke about starting a polygamous relationship on their second date. Their SECOND date. She just gaped for a moment, and then broke into a delighted laugh. Well I hope she doesn't turn out to be the jealous sort, because I have no intention of playing second fiddle, even if she was here first.

There was a thread of truth to her teasing reply. If there was one thing she knew about herself it was that she did NOT play well with others. One of her previous things had struck upon the idea of having an open relationship to offset the lack of sex in theirs. He shortly found himself not having to concern himself with said relationship... ever. She could joke about sharing Taft with a gun, but that was all it was, a joke.

Somehow she didn't expect it to be a problem.

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"Jealous? She's a gun." Taft pulled a face like she was talking crazy or something even though he'd been the one to set up the joke. Then he broke into another grin. "I'm sure it isn't a problem. Wouldn't be able to survive two women at the same time, takes the lion's share to keep up with one proper example as it." His lemonade and her girly drink came back with the waitress, who only glanced back and forth once before taking her leave. Taft didn't look at her, merely said thank you and kept his focus on Fia.

"I wish I could get a hold of one of the original units, when they were the X25 and 29. Heavy, expensive, but it would have made a fair collectible."

Fia was pleased to see the waitress return with a Magner's Pear Cidar. O'malley's just shot up several slots in her list of favorite restaurants. She ignored the empty glass that the waitress had placed on the table, instead just taking a swig from the brown bottle. Licking her lips in appreciation, she took another sip before tilting the top in Taft's direction as she spoke. I've actually had my hands on the XM29. Certainly not as refined as the 'other woman', but it had potential. The problem was the designers wanted it to do too much, so it was having an identity crises. It had a velocity of a light cannon, but shot like a grenade launcher. That was before they split the program, but I think the damage had already been done.

Those things were what 15k to build? I can't even imagine what time and rarity have done to the price.

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"And the weight, hauling that thing around the hills of Afghanistan would have been a huge pain. Or a bigger pain than what we did haul around the hills of Afghanistan anyway." He nodded at the price tag she guessed at, they were stupidly expensive but the XM8 had come out much better and Taft actually enjoyed his. If given the choice at the beginning of any major conflict he was going to be stuck in, say like a Red Dawn scenario or a Zombie Apocalypse, he'd go with a AK-47 base design, a solid handgun for clearing tight spaces, a crossbow for quiet work, etc. etc. He gave her a smile. And a good wing woman.

"Prefer an AK for long term field work but I like the XM8 for a service weapon, especially for short runs like the SGC does. In the end I would keep taking the shotgun because I like making a big impact in a short time but the XM8 would stand a solid chance of getting my vote for a replacement for the P90."