|Location||Lounge - X-Factor Solutions|
|Summary||Tiffany is a dick. What does Raquel do at home when she's alone, though?! Am I right?!|
| The lounge is the one place in X-Factor that shows some signs of personality, and as such, it's far more comfortable than either the sterile neatness of the front entrance or the sleek tech of the conference room.
One wall has been painted kelly green, a color which sets off the less-exciting black of the refrigerator, cabinets, and microwave that make up the tiny kitchenette area. Another wall has already earned some graffiti. It's become common for new employees to leave a signature of sorts, scrawled somewhere on the wall in varied-colored marker. They range from literal signatures to symbols and pictures depicting mutations or call signs or some other mysterious image. They appear to be getting more elaborate as time goes on.One wall has been kept clear for a holoprojector that can be configured for use with any number of technologies, though its most common use is as a television. A pair of couches long-since worn down into narcoleptic comfort flank it, and a single wingchair sits opposite the coffee table set between. Behind the comfortable cluster, a small round table can seat four, and next to it a staircase leads up into the offices.
| It is a winter evening. The weather is freezing and overcast.|
Raquel has co-opted the holoprojector to watch English League Football- Arsenal versus Manchester United. She's on the edge of the sofa, watching with wide eyes as various gentlemen spar with the ball. She's shouting in Portuguese as the game goes on, before standing and lifting both fists in the air! "Aha! Yes! GOOOOAAL!" she cheers as the team she's cheering for 'Arsenal' makes a goal, "Ahaha!"
The coffee table has several beers, unopened, and what looks like a partially eaten pizza- "Aha!" she says, with a clap, just grinning ear to ear as the replays start.
Tiffany's psionic avatar is the picture image of glowing, youthful health. Without a hair out of place, an effortless tan, and a slightly more generous bustline than is a reality, Tiff appears in modest, monochromatic a-line dress. “Jesus,” she croaks dryly at Raquel’s outburst. She simply appears sitting atop the back of the couch with her knees together and both arms held up, fingers in each ear to block out the sound, “Christ.”
Raquel turns as someone appears from nowhere, eyes going wide before she stumbles back and falls off the edge of the couch. Her eyes are wide as she just looks at Tiffany, confused. "W..where did you come from?!" she exclaims, with a squeak. "You weren't hiding in the cabinets, were you?!
<FS3> Tiffany rolls Bluff: Good Success. (5 7 3 7 8 6 1 5)
"Not technically," Tiffany unblots her ears and leans back, unaffected by Raquel's reaction. Buying time as she collects her thoughts, the young woman rolls her jaw and rubs her temple as if to affect her eardrum. ... "I'm everywhere." ... Straight face. No emotion. ... "So, yes, also, though." She slowly turns up her chin.
"Everywhere?" Raquel asks, with a bit of confusion. "How can you be everywhere?" she wonders, "No, seriously... I.." Raquel just stares at Tiffany, swallowing. "So you've been in my apartment?!" She says next, with a bit of uncertainty. "Whatever you've seen, I can explain everything!"
Flicking one perfectly shaped eyebrow up, Tiffany widens her eyes just slightly. She crosses her thin arms loosely over her chest and well, remains silent in the hopes that Raquel will just dig herself deeper.
Raquel continues to stare at Tiffany, swallowing. Staring at Tiffany now- she scrambles to her feet. She just gets quiet, and bites her bottom lip as she swallows. "It’s practicing, I know it looks funny, and it makes a mess, but really it’s just because I'm no good at art, so I do it without clothes on- it’s weird. Okay, I get it- but I'm not an artist, okay. I've never been able to do anything like that!"
"Never," Tiffany puts a pregnant pause between her words for dramatic effect. She also lets her hands fall to her lap before gesturing open-handedly around herself. Her hands do not make a sound when they slap against her thighs, "Give up on your dreams." This, as is everything she says, is in an apathetic monotone.
"What? Who said anything about my dreams?" Raquel asks, looking confused now. "Who are you?" she says then, trying to catch up to herself- cheeks burning a bit as she looks carefully to Tiffany. Quiet now, "What do you want?"
Keeping her hands open-faced, like some divine apparition, "I have no idea what you do alone in your apartment, dude. You just woke me up from a work-nap and that made me grumpy." Her fingers flit up, making little air-quotations around the word 'work.' "But it sounds..." Her eyes widen, and she nods, "Pretty amazing."
Raquel's cheeks still burn a dusky pink on the natural tan. Her accent quite clear as she takes a little breath. "It’s not. It really isn't. I've probably lost my security deposit." she says, "I'm Raquel." she offers, "I.. didn't mean to wake you up. I really like futbol." she states, with a bit of a half smile, cheeks still quite bright.
"I-" Tiffany actually has to stop herself from saying whatever it was that she was about to say. She presses her lips closed, holding up a hand flatly in the air. "Tiffany," she finally states, bringing up a hand as if to fix her already perfectly placed hair, "I'm Tiffany. ...and I guess technically, I'm still asleep or whatever." She rolls her eyes, "Just like... no more screaming. Alright?"
"Sorry...I can go somewhere else. I didn't know you were sleeping." Raquel states, just staring still at Tiffany's psychic avatar with confusion. This is a new thing for her. "I'll pack up and go- I'll leave you a beer, yes? No hard feelings?"
"No, stay. It's /work/-sleeping." There's a distinction! Tiffany leans back, "I'm going off on a job, anyway. So, I won't hear you for a while." ... "I was just busting your balls." ... "But like, yeah, leave a beer in the fridge." She shifts her eyes.
"No, this is all very weird and I think I'd rather go." Raquel admits, "And let you get back to.. work-sleeping.." whatever that is. "I'm sorry!" she says again, quickly starting to clean the lounge up. She puts a beer into the fridge, closes her pizza box and gives a sheepish grin. "Have a nice work-sleep."Tiffany tries to contain her smirk. Her tongue searches the inside of her mouth, pressing against her cheek. "Suit yourself," she purrs very casually. Flapping her hand on her wrist in a shrug-like gesture, Tiffany blinks out of existence once more.