Template:Opco business day convention scene: Difference between revisions
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The final panel Q&A wraps up: five hundred delegates hit the bar ''hard'': [[Actual/actual]] chit-chat is thirsty work. | The final panel Q&A wraps up: five hundred delegates hit the bar ''hard'': [[Actual/actual]] chit-chat is thirsty work. | ||
Waiters boogie-woogie through the crowd. They flog cold beers and live crabs on overhead trays. Nippers gnash. Punters | Waiters boogie-woogie through the crowd. They flog cold beers and live crabs on overhead trays. Nippers gnash. Punters chug [[Bitcoin|Satoshi]] Extra-Dry. It’s an [[Blockchain|on-chain]] open bar. The vodka luge hits peak. [[Day count fraction|Daycount]] chit-chat hits peak. The accordion swing-jive hits peak: ''breakneck'' BPM. | ||
The vodka luge hits peak. Daycount chit-chat hits peak. The accordion swing-jive hits peak: ''breakneck'' BPM. | |||
The [[Negotiator]] makes a track through the hullaballoo. | The [[Negotiator]] makes a track through the hullaballoo. | ||
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''That’s — the girl from the [[Process agent|agency]]''. | ''That’s — the girl from the [[Process agent|agency]]''. | ||
The bar scene is chaos. His bar presence is zilch. He catches her eye. There’s a flicker and its gone. She looks down. She flushes red. She she steals another look through through that tumbling fringe: devastatingly demure. | The bar scene is chaos. His bar presence is zilch. He catches her eye. There’s a flicker and its gone. She looks down. She flushes red. She she steals another look through through that tumbling fringe: devastatingly demure. He rams a [[Cayman Island rum cake|Tortuga chaser]]. That bad boy gives him wings. He sidles up. | ||
She blows her fringe and contrives boredom. “You ''[[Following business day convention|following]]'' me, pal?” | She blows her fringe and contrives boredom. “You ''[[Following business day convention|following]]'' me, pal?” | ||
Revision as of 10:03, 20 January 2023
The final panel Q&A wraps up: five hundred delegates hit the bar hard: Actual/actual chit-chat is thirsty work.
Waiters boogie-woogie through the crowd. They flog cold beers and live crabs on overhead trays. Nippers gnash. Punters chug Satoshi Extra-Dry. It’s an on-chain open bar. The vodka luge hits peak. Daycount chit-chat hits peak. The accordion swing-jive hits peak: breakneck BPM.
The Negotiator makes a track through the hullaballoo.
Then he sees her. Hullaba-helloooo.
That’s — the girl from the agency.
The bar scene is chaos. His bar presence is zilch. He catches her eye. There’s a flicker and its gone. She looks down. She flushes red. She she steals another look through through that tumbling fringe: devastatingly demure. He rams a Tortuga chaser. That bad boy gives him wings. He sidles up.
She blows her fringe and contrives boredom. “You following me, pal?”
He cracks out *innocent face*. “Look, lady: I was here first.”
She looks him up and down. “Is that a fact.” she says it like a fact, not a question.
“Yeah.”
She scoffs, but vibes playful. She runs a finger round the rim of his glass. Their eyes lock again. “Oh, soldier, so you were preceding?”
He shrugs. “I guess I figured you would wind up here eventually, so I just made sure I got here first. I guess I was, ahhh — modified following you.”
He spits his drink. They get close. The party gets loud.
She says, “my boat’s tied up outside.” This he does not expect.