[Wade is also using the drink more as a prop for now. He tries to remember if she’d mentioned anything specific about her boss when she’d put in the job, but nothing comes to mind. He does preen a bit at what he thinks is a compliment.]
Your boss? Do I know your boss? I mean… clearly she has good taste.
[He’s pretty sure he would have remembered someone like Root if they’d spoken before. But it’s possible that Root’s mysterious boss had used another liaison or reached out to him directly if they’d worked together in the past.
If they haven’t… well, maybe his reputation is just preceding him here. That’s not entirely unheard of either.]
[ In Root's eyes, it is a compliment, and the Machine does of course have good taste. How many billions of people is the Machine keeping track of, and one individual sticks out to her for any reason? It's like getting the passing acknowledgement of a god -- flattery in itself. ]
No one knows my boss except me, and she doesn't tell me much.
[ Root shrugs and takes a measured sip of her whiskey. That's mostly accurate, and a way of dodging the real question. ]
But wherever she gets her information, she's never wrong, which means you're the right man for the job. How do you feel about being the good guy for this one?
[Wade seems just a little apprehensive when Root mentions some of the specifics— Nothing that he’s opposed to, but Wade has a complicated history when it comes to being the “good guy.” Thankfully this is just work; putting it in the context of a job means it’s just another box for him to check off.
He’s still curious about her boss but decides to go along with the change of topic for now.]
Hey, you’re paying. Heroics aren’t really my… area, but I’ve been known to moonlight on a team or two. What’s the job?
[He does finally peel his mask up just enough to hook over his nose, revealing some of the scarred skin underneath. He pulls the straw out of his drink and takes a generous sip, the burn of the alcohol pleasant even if it won’t leave any lasting effects.]
[ She doesn't react in the slightest to the reveal. Root's version of 'good guy' is maybe a little... malleable. Hey, she leaves people alive when the Machine tells her to, mostly. And she's trying to do something meaningful with her life now rather than just surrendering to the inevitable entropic decline of the universe, so really, she's made a lot of progress. But she will absolutely still use a power drill on a suburban mom's hand if the situation calls for it.
There's maybe some of that in the carelessness of her response. ] I told you, she always picks people for a reason. It's not that kind of heroics.
[ Root actually doesn't know what the job even is until that precise moment when the cochlear implant in her right ear sparks to life and tells her, inaudible to anyone else. It's only a momentary pause and then she continues smoothly. ]
Some kind of mess the CIA is making overseas; I don't have all the details yet. But it must be big if she thinks I can't handle it. [ She actually pouts. ] You're going to have all this fun without me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Your boss? Do I know your boss? I mean… clearly she has good taste.
[He’s pretty sure he would have remembered someone like Root if they’d spoken before. But it’s possible that Root’s mysterious boss had used another liaison or reached out to him directly if they’d worked together in the past.
If they haven’t… well, maybe his reputation is just preceding him here. That’s not entirely unheard of either.]
no subject
No one knows my boss except me, and she doesn't tell me much.
[ Root shrugs and takes a measured sip of her whiskey. That's mostly accurate, and a way of dodging the real question. ]
But wherever she gets her information, she's never wrong, which means you're the right man for the job. How do you feel about being the good guy for this one?
no subject
He’s still curious about her boss but decides to go along with the change of topic for now.]
Hey, you’re paying. Heroics aren’t really my… area, but I’ve been known to moonlight on a team or two. What’s the job?
[He does finally peel his mask up just enough to hook over his nose, revealing some of the scarred skin underneath. He pulls the straw out of his drink and takes a generous sip, the burn of the alcohol pleasant even if it won’t leave any lasting effects.]
no subject
There's maybe some of that in the carelessness of her response. ] I told you, she always picks people for a reason. It's not that kind of heroics.
[ Root actually doesn't know what the job even is until that precise moment when the cochlear implant in her right ear sparks to life and tells her, inaudible to anyone else. It's only a momentary pause and then she continues smoothly. ]
Some kind of mess the CIA is making overseas; I don't have all the details yet. But it must be big if she thinks I can't handle it. [ She actually pouts. ] You're going to have all this fun without me.