Rosita is capable of holding a conversation, she could even be considered friendly in some ways, but she's not an overly warm person; she's not eager to share much of herself, either, at least for now. For now the space and the dialogue are enough, and she nods.
"That's what I mean," she explains. "I've been here... god. Somewhere between a year and a half and two years."
Excuse her while she deadeye stares into the back of her own thoughts about that for a moment before shaking her head. "I stopped going to the Arena regularly just before you started. You prefer that to the fucking?"
Two peas in a pod, then. Shouldn't be too hard for them to find some kind of common ground here.
The fact that she's been here that long doesn't surprise him, at least not anymore. He's met a handful of people who've been here just as long, if not longer; it's interesting to see how they've all adapted in their own ways, a few even settling in comfortably. Makes him curious as to whether she's more the former or the latter.
There's a pause at her question, not so much that he's caught off-guard by the question, but more because he needs a moment to think it through. "Both each offer their own kind of satisfaction. Either way, I like it rough." Whether fucking or fighting, obviously. "Why pick one over the other when I can have both?"
It's an interesting sort of thing to say - in the old world, it would definitely be a line. In this new one, it's something she marks and considers because chances are good that eventually, they'll wind up on the wrong side of an aphrodisiac or a lesson from each other.
They're both Dominants, she can tell with a glance at him, but that doesn't mean a whole lot in the end. She looks him over for a moment, nodding to herself, before shrugging.
"Mostly I agree," she admits, smirking. "I was called a slut more than once long before I came here, but I stand by it. If this place could get its collective head wrapped around consent, maybe there'd be something to it, but it is what it is."
Both of them being Dominants means little to him, and given his personal experience, however limited, how much it matters to the City seems to come and go. He's found himself paired with Dominants more than once, however randomly, encouraged by the aphrodisiacs they so enjoy to add into everything.
"People like to be judgmental little shits. Shocking." And sexist, but by norm he assumes everyone he meets here is from centuries before him, so that doesn't surprise him. "Better to make the most out of what we can actually control here. Fuck knows this place likes to play around with us at any given chance."
"Mm," she agrees, mostly wholeheartedly; it has a lot to do with why she wears the uniform she does, why she does the things she does. Taking control of what they can doesn't always just mean the things they want to do, but the things that must be done to keep the tide going in the proper direction.
She flips the page in front of her, scans briefly over its contents but returns her attention to him.
"That where your loyalty is? With us, not the natives?"
The question is more personal than he would expect from what's essentially a job interview. Everyone's different, he supposes; some people like knowing how much they can trust someone else, or what to expect from them. Thing is, with James it's hard to know what to expect, and he likes to keep it that way. And really, trusting anyone seems like a terrible mistake. Even in a place like this.
Nevertheless, after some seconds of pondering, he decides to answer honestly. It's not like he keeps that part of himself a secret.
There is, of course, a reason she's asking. Eventually he's going to find out about her other job, and she needs to know what to expect from that. She knows generally speaking, but.
Well. It's a job interview, and she hasn't ever given one without a gun in her hands and three questions that don't fucking matter here.
"I'd prefer more people were more honest about that, given how often it's true. You killed anyone?" It's a casual question, like someone else might ask if he'd eaten lunch yet.
If it serves as any comfort to her, he doesn't actually trust anyone, SIN Guard or otherwise. There's only one exception to that, perhaps two, and he's not about to tell her that. Besides, it's not like he shared much about himself with Daryl before, so he doubts this would be any different.
Given the first question, the one that follows doesn't surprise him quite as much. Besides, the truth isn't an issue for him, so.
"Here, I haven't. Back in my world, yes." He arches an eyebrow, and lets curiosity take him. "Have you?"
She doesn't shy away from answering, either; that's good. It makes her feel better that he's both willing to do it and willing to admit to it, but she keeps the question of why behind her teeth. There's no group to join, no trust to earn, not like there once was. She doesn't want details, just to know what kind of man he is, to let him know - in this sense anyway - what kind of woman she is.
"It's common, where I'm from. Enough that I have a lot of trouble sometimes being around people who haven't, or won't."
That's for the better, because James wouldn't answer why. Well, he might, but he would lie about it. He hasn't shared details about his universe with anyone here, and he's not about to with someone he's only just met.
"Same." To be fair, he doesn't tend to surround himself with people like that. And he's never met as many people who are unwilling to kill as he has in this place. "It's a necessity, in my world. A matter of survival. Would be long dead otherwise."
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"That's what I mean," she explains. "I've been here... god. Somewhere between a year and a half and two years."
Excuse her while she deadeye stares into the back of her own thoughts about that for a moment before shaking her head. "I stopped going to the Arena regularly just before you started. You prefer that to the fucking?"
no subject
The fact that she's been here that long doesn't surprise him, at least not anymore. He's met a handful of people who've been here just as long, if not longer; it's interesting to see how they've all adapted in their own ways, a few even settling in comfortably. Makes him curious as to whether she's more the former or the latter.
There's a pause at her question, not so much that he's caught off-guard by the question, but more because he needs a moment to think it through. "Both each offer their own kind of satisfaction. Either way, I like it rough." Whether fucking or fighting, obviously. "Why pick one over the other when I can have both?"
no subject
They're both Dominants, she can tell with a glance at him, but that doesn't mean a whole lot in the end. She looks him over for a moment, nodding to herself, before shrugging.
"Mostly I agree," she admits, smirking. "I was called a slut more than once long before I came here, but I stand by it. If this place could get its collective head wrapped around consent, maybe there'd be something to it, but it is what it is."
no subject
"People like to be judgmental little shits. Shocking." And sexist, but by norm he assumes everyone he meets here is from centuries before him, so that doesn't surprise him. "Better to make the most out of what we can actually control here. Fuck knows this place likes to play around with us at any given chance."
no subject
She flips the page in front of her, scans briefly over its contents but returns her attention to him.
"That where your loyalty is? With us, not the natives?"
no subject
Nevertheless, after some seconds of pondering, he decides to answer honestly. It's not like he keeps that part of himself a secret.
"My loyalty is to myself. Is that an issue?"
no subject
There is, of course, a reason she's asking. Eventually he's going to find out about her other job, and she needs to know what to expect from that. She knows generally speaking, but.
Well. It's a job interview, and she hasn't ever given one without a gun in her hands and three questions that don't fucking matter here.
"I'd prefer more people were more honest about that, given how often it's true. You killed anyone?" It's a casual question, like someone else might ask if he'd eaten lunch yet.
no subject
Given the first question, the one that follows doesn't surprise him quite as much. Besides, the truth isn't an issue for him, so.
"Here, I haven't. Back in my world, yes." He arches an eyebrow, and lets curiosity take him. "Have you?"
no subject
She doesn't shy away from answering, either; that's good. It makes her feel better that he's both willing to do it and willing to admit to it, but she keeps the question of why behind her teeth. There's no group to join, no trust to earn, not like there once was. She doesn't want details, just to know what kind of man he is, to let him know - in this sense anyway - what kind of woman she is.
"It's common, where I'm from. Enough that I have a lot of trouble sometimes being around people who haven't, or won't."
no subject
"Same." To be fair, he doesn't tend to surround himself with people like that. And he's never met as many people who are unwilling to kill as he has in this place. "It's a necessity, in my world. A matter of survival. Would be long dead otherwise."