[Radio] You send Double a direct message: "*incoming transmission*"

[Radio] Double sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "*Acknowledgement signal*"

[Radio] You send Double a direct message: "Howdy. This Double?"

[Radio] Double sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Given our earlier conversation, I think you already know the answer to that."

[Radio] You send Double a direct message: "Public frequency lisitins are notoriously unreliable. *pause* Ah'd like t'talk to ya. Nothang shady."

[Radio] Double sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "Well your choice on simply yammering on this frequency or we could talk where I am at the moment."

[Radio] You send Double a direct message: "Druther not have erryone an thair dog listenin in. Whare are ya?"

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Masquerade transmits, "I'll take the absolute silence as a note that nothing is going on. Ah well, that's a good thing, eh what? So! Who's for ice cream?"

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Kalinka transmits, "Ice cream? Oh boy! You know, I should not eat that, though."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Bowie transmits, "Whut's wrong with ice cream?"

Mixolydian has arrived.

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Kalinka transmits, "Nothing, but I have been eating a lot of pork rinds lately, and that is very fatty. So is ice cream. I do not want to get fat."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Masquerade transmits, "Pish-tosh, Miss Cossack. We'll get that new stuff that has all the taste and none of the downsides, eh what? Now the only question is... where? I'm not really sure where anything is, around here... the New York is the only place I really know all that well."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Bowie transmits, "Errythang in moderation, sunshine."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Alpha transmits, "I think you will fit in, Masquerade. Going to get ice cream seems to be the ultimate Hunter pastime."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Masquerade transmits, "*chuckle* I fit in many places, fair lady. It's part of my charm, eh what?"

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Alpha transmits, "..."

[Radio] Double sends you a tightbeam radio transmission: "My apologies for the slow response. Reploid Room."

[Radio] You send Double a direct message: "All right."

The Reploid Room - Pool Hall

As you slide into the smokey and somewhat subdued area that is the pool hall, your optics/eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Clearly you can see that this area is designed for those infamous bar games. Pool tables fill the majority of this room, clad in red and green felt. On the far wall rest a few dart boards. Near the entrance are a half a dozen tables set up for card games. Looks like one could make a fortune around here if they knew what they were doing.

Double [Double] [M] Pool Table

Card Table

Dance Floor <DF> leads to The Reploid Room - Dance Floor.

Bar <B> leads to The Reploid Room - Bar.

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Masquerade transmits, "So where should those of us going for ice cream meet?"

Double

The devilish form of this Maverick before you seems to almost radiates malice. One of the most striking things about Double is the crimson optics that seem to dissect your very being, who you are, and what you are.

Most of Double's body is either an off color yellow or a opaque light purple. His body seems to be designed to give the distinct impression of a 'devil'-like form though, with his spiked helmet, shoulders, and feet.

Most of Double's body is a liquid metal, namely the parts seen as an translucent light purple. These parts seem to always been shifting, both on the external and internal parts of his armors, always in a state of metamorphsis while keeping the same basic shape for the external armor.

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Mixolydian rumbles, "In these days of travel, many options are open... is there a preference?"

Sitting quietly at the card table, Double seems to be putting the deck back together from what looks like a three person game; no telling who in the room he just got finished with. After a second of reshuffling the pile, he begins scanning the room for his next 'appointment'.

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Masquerade transmits, "No preference here. I can get to almost anywhere on the globe in a short time."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Mixolydian chuckles. "As can many of us."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Kalinka transmits, "There is great ice cream stand in Red Square!"

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Masquerade transmits, "That sounds like an excellent idea, Miss Cossack."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Mixolydian transmits, "'A time for love, and a time for hate. A time for peace, and a time for war. A time for work, and a time for leisure...' Indeed, this would be a good time for relaxation. The flames of war will burn again soon enough."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Kalinka transmits, "I guess this is a time for ice cream."

Bowie skirts his way around the edge of the dance floor, eyes scanning the crowd while attempting not to join them. He's dressed down today, more appropriate for San An's warm spring...or what's normally warm if not for all that wacky weather. The Texan finally makes his way into the pool hall, expression neutral as he finds the Maverick he's been looking for, and crosses the room to join him.

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Masquerade chuckles, "A time for all things, indeed."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Mixolydian transmits, "The decision is made. Those who wish ice cream, let us be off to Red Square!"

Double motions toward the chair on the opposite side of the table as Bowie approaches, "Sit. Indulge me in a game as we chat about whatever it is you wanted to talk about." Double isn't without his suspicions though, as he leans forward and taps a small flat disk device in the center of the table...

The bar suddenly seems to die down in volume despite the activity levels of the Pool Hall.

Bowie doesn't seem to be overly surprised by either the offer of a game of cards or of Double's use of a sound dampener. He settles into the chair, then taps the edge of the table with his right hand. "Fair enough."

Double collects all the cards and starts to shuffle them.

Double finishes shuffling the cards.

Double deals 5 cards to Bowie.

Double deals 5 cards to himself.

"A game of simple five card draw," Double says as he deals out the cards. After he does so and flips through his cards, "Now, tell me why one of the Hunters would want to talk with me? Especially given my title of "The Traitor" among your little ragtag group?"

Bowie picks up the cards dealt to him, sorting them out as he speaks. "Because ya have a habit a bein thorough when ya do somethang. Like yer raid on Arcanum's labs." He takes two of the cards from his hand and tosses them down to discard them.

Your hand consists of: 2C 10C KD AH QC.

Bowie discards two of his cards.

Double's curiousity is now most certainly piqued with the mention of his raid on Arcanum, "Don't tell me you wish to hire me for some job? Not with the rather illustrious and notorious ranks of the Hunters to be chosen from." As he comments his discards two of his then deals two to Bowie and two to himself.

Double discards two of his cards.

Double deals 2 cards to Bowie.

Double deals 2 cards to himself.

Your hand consists of: KD AH QC 8S QD.

Bowie shakes his head. "Hardly. Whut Ah'm lookin fer is infermation." He picks up the two new cards and re-sorts.

Double lays his cards out, a small smile still riding his face as he looks to Bowie. "Information. That doesn't come free these days you know." Waiting for Bowie to show his hand, he continues, "Especially depending on the nature of the information. What exactly were you looking for?"

Double is holding: KS AC KH JS JC.

Bowie is holding: KD AH QC 8S QD.

Bowie says "Anythang ya might a taken frum them." He lays his cards down on the table. "'Specially any lists a any other clones thay made or were werkin on." His expression remains serious. "Assumin ya didn't jus torch the place, that is."

That glint of amusement in Double's eyes sparkle brighter now as the reason is finally laid out, or at least part of the reason. Leaning in, Double collects the cards, "Two pair, Ace high. One pair, Ace high," he states for a minute as he considers his next words as he shuffles. "I'm not so unclean as to just torch the place. Don't insult me. The question is though, why would you want this information, and what is it worth to you?" The words being spoken as he deals out five new cards to each.

Double collects all the cards and starts to shuffle them.

Double finishes shuffling the cards.

Double deals 5 cards to Bowie.

Double deals 5 cards to himself.

Your hand consists of: QD 4D AD QC 9S.

"Ah've got mah reasons," Bowie says simply. "As fer price, well, ya made sure yer were the only source. Guess that means ya get t'set yer prices." He takes up the hand dealt to him, sorts through it, and again tosses down two cards.

Bowie discards two of his cards.

Double tosses two of his cards down again, "I don't care for zenny, so the question is what do you have to offer that is of potential worth to me. Especially given the rather sensitive nature of that list. Afterall, a friend or loved one could be on that list, buried in my files somewhere, unlooked at yet by anyone." He tosses two cards out at Bowie and then himself.

Double discards two of his cards.

Double deals 2 cards to Bowie.

Double deals 2 cards to himself.

Your hand consists of: QD AD QC JC 10C.

That could be why he wants the list. Or maybe he has another reason. Whatever it is, Bowie isn't sharing. "That depends on whut yer lookin fer." The Texan looks over his cards one last time, then sets them out on the table.

Bowie is holding: QD AD QC JC 10C.

"Well, it will take me a few days to get the list, given its now in my database stores." Double shows his own hand and seems to consider this the end of the game. "I will have my price named by the time I get you the list. I wish to consider it."

Tomahawk Man arrives from The Reploid Room - Dance Floor.

Tomahawk Man has arrived.

Bowie is seated at one of the card tables towards the back of the room, Double seated opposite him. The Texan gathers up the cards in front of him and hands them over to Double. "Don't have much choice, do Ah?"

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Jazz transmits, "Hey everyone!"

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Shield transmits, "Hello Jazz."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Jazz transmits, "I am going to go check on that boy again. They say he is having trouble, but I still think he can make it!"

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Shield transmits, "I am sure he will appreciate your presence."

"You said it yourself, I'm the only one with the list, given the sad passing of anyone who would have known the information beside myself." Double shuffles the cards back together, leaving them setting on the seat. One thing Tomahawk may notice is that while they speak, not a single word can be overheard in the least, even a murmur within the overall noise of the room.

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Jazz transmits, "....no. They can't be right. That's it! The doctors are wrong."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Jazz giggles shakily.

Retro Packrat arrives from The Reploid Room - Bar.

Retro Packrat has arrived.

Tomahawk Man wanders in from dance floor area, a scowl on his face and a beer in one hand. Finding the pool room much more to his liking, the android heads towards the pool tables to watch one of the games already in progress.

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Shield transmits, "Did the doctors have diagnosed his case as terminal?"

Bowie nods, his expression remaining all business. For someone who doesn't play cards often, he does have a good poker face. "Then Ah'll wait fer yer call."

Double nods and leans in, tapping the small disk on his table and cutting the sound suppression system, "Very well then, I'll contact you within the next few days. Leave your comfreq for easier contact."

Tomahawk Man continues to stand near the pool tables with his back to a wall. Noting the sudden addition of new voices, he looks around but doesn't spot anyone new in the room. "Strange," he murmurs to himself.

Bowie draws a card - business, not playing - from his pocket and tosses it on the table. Listed on it are his post office box here in San An and his public comfreq. Since their business is concluded, he stands up and steps away from the table.

Meanwhile, as the two chat and the headdressed RM come in, so does another join, in the form of Interpol's resident rat, Retro. Of course, he was looking just to play some pool, not come upon one of Wily's ilk and the infamous Double. Swallowing hard, he tries to sneak about the other side of the room, hiding his Interpol badge for now. He's here to relax and get all that stuff about murders, Pittsburgh, and that whole mess with Pestilence off of his mind for at least a few hours.

Taking the card, Double slides it into his forearm in the open slot normally open for his energy blades to ignite out of. "My fellow Reploids and other assorted machines," Double says, most of the patrons familar with him now from his occassionally doing exactly what he's about to, "A round of drinks is on me."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Jazz transmits, "Hmmm...now where to begin..."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Mixolydian transmits, "Set the trap, then the bait. When they come for it, spring the trap about them."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Mixolydian transmits, "The difficulty lies in finding the right bait."

[Radio: (B) H-Chat] Jazz transmits, "Darn it, I am a detective, not a strategimeist."

Tomahawk Man turns his gaze to the reploid that offers the free refill. "My thanks," he comments. They may not have all the same goals, but that doesn't mean he can't show his appreciation of the gesture.

Bowie decides to opt out of the free drink, already walking towards the doorway leading to the dance floor.

Retro Packrat blinks. Free drinks. Hrm...maybe this isn't so bad after a...no, no, no, he's still Double. He can't take up the offer. It'd just feel...wrong. Sighing, he remains silent eyeing the maverick before heading up to one of the pool tables, putting in the necessary amount of money for the balls to generate, then setting up the rack.

"Good day Bowie." Double says as he watches the Hunter leave, also giving everyone the impression perhaps that they're on good terms. If they hadn't already noticed the silent card table where the two were discussing something. Most those here take up the offer in good cheer though, given they've seen him do it a few times. Double seems to make careful note of the ones most enthusiastic in accepting his offer, and the ones who don't. His eyes shortly fall on Tomahawk and Retro.

Tomahawk Man raises an eyebrow as he gets the sensation that he's being watched. He returns the reploid's gaze for a few seconds before turning his attention to the now-fragmented game of pool.

Retro Packrat retrieves the balls and re-racks them on the table.

Bowie would be one of the ones not taking Double up on the offer of free booze. He steps out into the throng of people crowding the dance floor, and disappears.

Retro Packrat just continues to watch...until Double watches him too, after which he quickly cuts away, swallowing hard again and trying to focus on his game of pool. Sure, he's playing alone, but what the heck, he might as well do something aside from drink.