REAL MEN DRINK TEA [Open]

[Agent Fordsworth]

13th of Feb,

"I miss Hawaii," Cromwell would say as he glanced outside through the window of the bar inside which he was. For a while now the blond haired agent was back in London and he was enjoying his time up until now. He decided to go out for a while and visit a bar that was located quite close to his house. However, once he had arrived, it started to rain so he was forced to hide inside. Our dear agent did not like this as the inside of the bar was filled with macho bear drinking men who made quite a noise and thus were ruining his alone time. He expected to spend his time today drinking tea and reading newspapers so that he may catch up with what was going on in Britain while he was in America. Indeed, last month he spend visiting various places of the world, such as South America and North America, where he spent most of his time making deals with foreign agencies such as CIA. He disliked those silly people and was glad to return back into the civilized part of the world. However, even though he disliked the people there, the climate was much nicer than what he faced back home in Britain. Rainy days were not uncommon here and although Cromwell didn't hate the rain, he did however hate staying under a roof for too long. Indeed, he required some outdoor entertainment in order to feel alive. That is, among other things.

With a gloomy expression the famous 007 would look through the window, hoping that the rain would stop. The amount of gray colored clouds on the other hand was telling him that this downpour was going to last for quite a while. I should probably go back, staying here won't accomplish anything. However, while he was caught up in his thoughts, the bartender arrived, placing a coup of tea in front of him with a glass of water, lemon, sugar and a single small spoon. Hearing him would make the blond haired male snap out of his trans and turn his head around while saying: "Ah, thank you." For a moment there he forgot that he had already ordered a coup of tea after he arrived and leaving without finishing his tea would be rather rude. Not to mention, the water would have spent all that time making that tea for nothing. And so the famous British agent was forced to stay in this bar until he could finish his drink, even though the atmosphere was ruined by the annoying beer drinkers that were sitting a few tables away.

[David Bowie]

Some days.

Just.

Just, some days.

We feel like Gary Oak.

David Bowie? He feels like Gary Oak every day. Thankfully, he had a very talented chauffeur, as the six girls in the backseat with him were plenty, thank ye very much. Any more and he'd have increased odds of some STD he probably didn't have/hasn't had before. Didn't mean he couldn't have a good time with what he had, though.

Case in point? He was snorting cocaine off of one of the girls' breasts in the back seat of a luxury limo with solid gold rims, drinking from a diamond-encrusted silver chalice. A nice vintage absinthe, quite old, in fact, very rare. Swiss. Went well with the fine cigars he was saving for later.

"Mr. Bowie, your destination has arrived." Yep. Not "you've arrived at your destination." No, his destination arrived to him. The world moved in his favor, he only had to command it. Such was the life of one such as he. "Dandy. Miladies, I shall see you all at my abode, toodle-oo~" At that, he blew the girls a kiss and blinking a bit, stepped out of the limo. "My me, it's bright as a flashlight in my eyes out here, I definitely have to do something about that, yeah, block out the Sun or something, mm. I could go for a good steak right now, bloody bloody, I say, HAHAHAHA!~ Today is a good day to uh... NOT DIE!~"

He then stepped into the bar, and looked around, seeing who he should sit with, if he should even sit with anyone, he was clearly out of their league, every single last one of them, and even that devilishly handsome fellow right the- OHAI. "Crommy!~" With a cheerful exclamation of the man's name (somewhat), the rockstar dashed forward with a grin, very nearly tackling the man out of his seat with a hug. Ahhh, yes, the legendary 007. PALED IN COMPARISON TO 002, LOLOLOL. Okay, not really, but still. Coworkers at a bar together. What are the odds?

Not bothering to ask, just assuming his fellow MI6 agent wouldn't mind, he sat across from Cromwell, handing his chalice to the bartender. "Absinthe, neat. Pour a bit of rat poison in with it, and if you don't ask questions, you can be my friend. And my friends all have solid gold sports cars, if you get the picture." The man, confused at first, quickly complied, not wanting to miss out on a potentially enormous tip, and had a waiter send Bowie his drink, which he stirred idly with a spoon. "So, Cromwell. What've you been up to these days, you secret celebrity, you?~"

[Agent Fordsworth]

[Pardon for the delay, took me a while to come up with a reply.]

Through an odd case of coincidence a individual with whom Cromwell was rather familiar had showed up in the bar which the blond haired male chose for having a coup of tea today. The handsome agent honestly didn't know that his coworker was coming to this place, so when he noticed the other male he had a rather surprised look upon his face. HOWEVER, he was too late. The moment at which he noticed the other male was just when he was about to get hugged and thus he was unable to react and get out of the other male's clutches. In other words, he was put into the most unpleasant position, the position in which he had another man hugging him and showing affection towards him. Some of the people who were in the bar even former smirks on their faces as they considered this as a meeting between two men who had feelings towards each other. Cromwell on the other hand had a rather unpleasant expression, he was not amused. However, he was not in the clutches of the other man for too long, soon enough David let go of him and decided to take a seat on the opposite side of him so that the two of them could have a conversation or something. The motives of the other agents were quite so unclear to 007.

Once the other male took his seat, Cromwell would put up a tad joyful expression so that his annoyance with the stunt that his friend just pulled of would not be shown. However, keeping up such an expression was rather hard. Right after he sat there, his coworker made a rather absurd order that almost made 007 walk away and pretend that he did not know this person. It was somewhat too late for that. Honestly, at times like this Cromwell seriously started to think that this person was a ritualist like he was, his mental state certainly fit the profile. Luckily for 007, he was able to conceal the fact that he himself was one due to his amazingly manipulative abilities. Well, that and he just never showed his abilities around potential witnesses. However, that was not quite as important now. Since he was asked a question, Cromwell needed to reply. So, he simply did so by saying: "Hello David, fancy seeing you here as well. I honestly didn't expect a celebrity such as yourself to be visiting a place like this. I guess you might not be as rich and famous as you say you are." With a rather comedic tune Cromwell would say that last sentence, knowing how much the other male cared about his status. Of course, he was not as famous as Cromwell was. Ever seen a movie about a 00 agent except 007? Nope, I don't think so. In fact, the 007 was such a famous number that even Sean Connery once took a role of the famed agent. 

Anyways, after those words, Cromwell would also continue with: "Sorry about that, couldn't resist. I haven't been up to much lately, taking a break and such, I need to restore my health, these assignments are taking a lot out of me. What about you?"

[David Bowie]

Hehehehehe! He knew that his glomp of doom had stirred up the preferably shaken individual, even if he couldn't read it on his face. Of course, he didn't maintain the hug for TOO long; it would just be simply mean to tarnish the suave secret agent's reputation for the ladies like this, if they thought he had a boyfriend, especially one so hard to compete with, he'd never be able to get laid ever again! And he didn't want to do that for the poor lad. That would've been mean, meaner than his own usual standards, which usually didn't care about how mean he was. But to keep a friend (noted, a friend; could still screw over other people. 8D) from getting women? Would be disgraceful. And so classless, so why would he ever want to do that anyways?

He grinned as Cromwell took a shot at his ego. Never ceased to amuse him, honestly; he knew he was famous, rich, and wonderful, so he could laugh at it when others said otherwise. "Oh! You wound me to say such hurtful things!~ Haha, no, but really, you would assume I find myself too good for such establishments as these?" he paused for a moment, propping his chin up on his fist, with his elbow on the table. "Because yeah, I probably do. But the high society bars all serve laaaaaaaaame booze, never anything good. And I can't bribe THEM into giving my drinks a flavorful kick. Last time I ordered an anthrax martini, everybody died or something. The nerve of them!" Well, it was probably acute anthrax poisoning that killed them... From his martini... But still! It wasn't his responsibility to remember what was an insanely lethal neurotoxin or not!

He grinned, switching hands on which to prop his chin, fickle as always, with everything. "Oh, no, quite alright, haha!~ Tickled my funny bone, luv, nice one. As for me, well... Funniest little thing, but I think I helped blow Vatican City just the other day, yesterday, I'm sure you caught the news, yes? Man, cocaine is some crazy stuff... Woke up in a hospital bed, my spleen was gone, let me tell you!" The worst thing was, as much as he was legitimately telling the truth, it would be incredibly easy to doubt that the celebrity was telling any more than a lie, a story, a fib, what have you. Whatever it was, he couldn't be serious. Ohhh, but he was...

As he spoke, a waiter gave over, placing his chalice, finely polished, he noticed, in front of him. He even had a small shaker of rat poison, how thoughtful. "Four tablespoons please," Flashing a wink to Cromwell, he added, "Shaken, not stirred." The waiter, although getting the joke, missed both the irony of it, as well as the meaning of Bowie's order. Until Bowie took a wallet from his pocket, and withdrew twenty crisp banknotes for 50 pounds each, stuffing them into the man's pants, specifically just to the right of his crotch. He then handed him another wad of cash. "One for you, one for your boss, darling. Keep the change, and I don't care who gets which." Well then. With 1,000 pounds in his pants, the guy didn't disobey, scampering over to give the barkeep his share, alongside Bowie's drink, which was prepared properly, shaken and all, with enough rat poison to kill a whale. Probably. FUN!~

He raised his chalice to Cromwell in a toast, after it was returned to him. "Cheers! To uh... Well, whatever it is we do again!~ Bottoms up!"

[Agent Fordsworth]

"Ah, you and your stories, they always do make me laugh. Sometimes you make me think that you really are telling the truth." With a joking tone and a bit of a giggle Cromwell would reply to the other male. He honestly didn't consider what David said the truth as it really didn't quite add up. I mean, if that was true, then David was really some immortal person who enjoys drinking dangerous substances which could potentially kill a regular human. Even though he himself was a ritualist, he could not believe someone saying that they were immortal or something. Even in the world of demons and such nobody really was immortal as there was a way to kill everyone. Then again, perhaps such creatures really did exist. It was all quite so unclear to Cromwell who never actually went to that other world, even though he was quite aware of it. There never really was a need for him to visit it, after all this world was the only one he cared about. What happened to the other world was none of his concern. 

 
[I'm in a rush, so for now this is all I can post. Sorry.]

[David Bowie]

Stories? What sort of story could Crommy be talking about, the superstar wondered briefly. Until it struck him, like a bolt of lightning upon a hundred foot oak standing in solitude amongst fields of daisies, a giant alone amongst the small and many. As it was, he'd never really EXPLAINED explained to Cromwell that he was a ritualist; honestly, most of the higher-ups in MI6 were unaware, although the original 00s were all debriefed on his immortality, years ago. Ah, those were the good old days, they were. Heh, it still just tickled Bowie to think that Cromwell's ego sprung from his position as the legendary 007. He was nowhere near the level of the original 007. None of the 00s compared to the first set, bar 002, and only he could be the exception as there was no 002 before himself. Or rather, there was, but Ciel had long since "died," replaced by Bowie, so to speak.

"Ahh, yes, me and my "stories," haha~ So tell me, Zero-Zero-Sette, do you have any stories to tell?" With that, he took a good and long sip of his deadly drink, laced with enough poison to give old Luci a run for his money, or at least a run-in with the Indigestion Monster, as he listened to his comrade's tales and exploits, should he have any to tell. Ahhh, Bowie did truly hope he had a story to tell...

[Agent Fordsworth]

The way Bowie reacted to what he said seemed kind of out of the ordinary. Cromwell was an expert of lying and manipulating people so to him this reaction didn't look like a faked one and so that laugh that came from the other agent arose his suspicions. It really did seem like one of those laughs that people would use when someone someone mentioned something out of a joke when in fact it was true. Could those stories be true? Perhaps Bowie actually was nuts enough to believe such things happened and that he really was immortal or something. The possibility of someone being an actual immortal was quite impossible. Indeed, in all his days of hunting supernatural forces that threaten good ol' Britain he had never faced anyone who was truly immortal, as in being unable to be killed. Everyone and everything could be killed and immortality was something only partial to some, manifested in the ability to live long while still being quite kill-able. Either way, after Bowie asked him if he had any stories, he would simply reply: "Hmm, I do have quite a few of them, but they aren't as interesting as what you say. No agent can actually come up with such things as well as you do. I still don't know how are you doing it, you must have quite the imagination."

Even though he said that, the blond haired male was still somewhat suspicious about Bowie's words. But then, for a moment, he would actually look at the person who gave Bowie his drink. While Bowie was sipping his drink the other male had a terrified look on his face, it was as if he killed someone. Could he have really given Bowie something lethal? The amount of money the man was given, it was quite large, so perhaps he did what he was told and actually gave the other agent a lethal drink. Quickly the blond haired male would turn back to Bowie, trying to see if he was dying or if something was wrong with him but he looked quite normal. "Say David, what kind of a drink are you having? The waiter there looks as if he is about to kill someone. Did he perhaps, you know, actually gave you what you asked?" The look on Cromwell's face was that of a rather confused man who desperately needed to get the answers to those questions he asked.

[Sponsored content]