[hider=Aimee~~<3!!][img]http://ow.ly/Mdio8[/img][/hider] ~~~~ A light smile held at her pink lips. The softness of such a light thing, accented the softness in her shining eyes neath the glow of the patio lights. Lashes darkened with darkening gunk and lined with darkening liner blinked once over bright hazel eyes. Raven locks, cropped at her chin swished past her cheeks as her head dipped downwards to quickly inspect what was emerging from a scritchity-scratchity motion of the pencil in her hand. Upon manilla coloured paper, it's tip continued to shape and form images of the street beyond the iron railing barrier of the coffee house. The .45 tucked away at her waistband, pulled and twisted as she leaned over to pull her immense monstrosity of a phone from her black pack with a white bunny silhouette print upon it. Both hands then reached up and removed the inert headphones from her ears and laid them upon the table. Little pink lips pursed together as she inspected the image upon her sketchbook. With slight disappointment, she shook her head and scrunched up her nose when she noted the inconsistencies and improper proportions in her drawing. After a slight tilt of the head, a bit of a shrug, she placed her well-loved sketchbook upon the table beside her beloved headphones (that lit up and glowed when turned on!.) A slender hand with black tipped fingernails picked up her massive phone and she clicked on the side and noted the time. 21:56. [color=7bcdc8][i]Oooohhh... it's almost show time![/i][/color] Others that passed though the entrance, she did not recognize as teammates save for one. Aimee Askins, one Lady Ascension, neatly tossed her sketchbook and kit into her pack and slung it over a bare shoulder as she rose from her seat. With a single motion, the headphones were lifted from the table and tucked at the back of her neck, big padded cannons resting between her jawline and clavicles. The blood red shawl, she fluffed out and up and over it went to cover her pack and skimpy black tanktop and matching hued beret pulled tight over straight flowing raven hair. Monster phone held in the clutches of a black-fingertipped hand. The hem of her black fluffy skirt swished away at her black and white striped stocking'd knees as the Logi deftly turned and bounced away from her chair and table, lovingly worn black leather kid boots kicking up as she glided over to where the bespectacled German sat. She paused momentarily and took a steeling breath. Funny how a pilot with ice coursing through her veins, a wheel woman with fire lit in her eyes would need to do a gut check to meet up with someone she already knew. But then again this was the same pilot/driver that was forced to buy tokens just to catch ride on the train over here. [color=7bcdc8][i]But hey at least I made some savings! This out fit only cost this chick $17.66 taxes included at the second hand store! Yayuh! [/i][/color] A single curt yet amicable nod she tossed over at the sharp-suit clad German, coupled with a shy smile, she sat down and smoothed out her skirt. Any that saw the two of them here would easily recognize that the gent's socks were worth more than the refuse the young woman wore. But there was something more between them that held more worth than mere material goods. [color=00a99d] “It's almost 2200, cowboy. Saddle up, [i]Money,[/i] it's time to get live. Hop aboard cuz Miss Aces about to get ya high... one before you die?” [/color] A quick offer of a lung-cancer stick then the metallic click and whoosh of a zippo sounded out and Aimee was soon puffing out a stream of smoke into the air She smiled shyly then looked away towards the entrance hoping he would remember her and her saying aboard the chopper during those sim runs back at the academy. And that one live run. She called him [i]'Money'[/i] because, yes, he came from a wealthy family. But more importantly, much more than any material possession, it was because she was always willing to bet anything upon him coming through. [color=7bcdc8][i]Money. Fo'sho![/i][/color] Half the ciggie was gone and so was Aimee. At maw of the main entrance, the red thread of her black fluffy skirt's hem swished out as she turned around and entered the coffeehouse, butt first. She motioned for Vic to follow. [color=00a99d] “Decoy, distract, disembowel... smokescreens. Isn't that what you said?”[/color] Aimee swished around about-face, then traipsed on in. The strides in her steady gait slowed as she caught sight of those here; those she was meant to cold drop or hot extract. Suddenly she felt out of her league. Folks up in the Div. Six was bad f'n ass. [color=7bcdc8][i]Capital F'n. Fo'sho.[/i][/color] Aimee bit her lowerlip and shook her head round, so that raven locks could help to obscure her face and darkened hazel brown eyes. She shuffled over to the nearest table, where sat a pretty Asian lady staring away, tripping out on wild life yonder out the window with a certain serenity; a certain kind of calm. [color=7bcdc8][i] Yeah, a certain kind of [/i]dead calm[i] alright.[/i][/color] Aimee nodded at her, smiled shyly and took a seat, before pulling out her sketchbook and pencils. Absentmindedly, she shoved a marker up in her red beret. And if there was an awkward silence now, the sound of her pencils scritchity-scratchity-ing upon paper would definitely be breaking that up. Fo'sho.