A Table at Breakfast, Hotel Thingholt; Reykjavík, Iceland. Early Monday Morning [02/18].

[special_rabbit]

"Hot Leaf Water?" Fueled by a voicemail from a number she should have blocked ages ago, Rosa was determined to find Blackstone that morning before they headed out for the next leg of the trip, because otherwise, she'd just be stuck in a bus, letting it simmer. It was probably best for the both of them that they were in a public place, too, though it took everything in Rosa to not just smack her hands down on the table.

Or just flip it.

"Are you kidding me right now?"



And Amaya, who had also received a voicemail that morning, was prepared for this, and she could practically feel when Diaz was coming, the way animals could sense a storm before it hit, and so she was just going to take a moment and enjoy a little more of her coffee before responding.

Starting with a wry, mostly apologetic look. "I'd just like to state," she said, "for the record, I did let her know that it might not be the best idea she'd ever had."

"Call me in the event that she ever even has a good idea," Rosa grumbled. "Then I'll know Hell's frozen over."

And she glowered a little, not at anything in particular, maybe a little at Amaya since she was sort of just the closest thing in the vicinity, jaw tightening incrimentally more the longer she thought about just how stupid and infuriating and obnoxious this all was, every little thing about it, up to and including the fact that she wasn't sure what was worse: if it had been done purely to infuriate her or if it had actually been done out of some weird sort of extremely misguided and tone-deaf sincerity.

No. That wasn't true; Rosa knew which one was worse. It wasn't even a question.

"You still did it, though," she added, turning her ire back on something that was tangible and in front of her and could be dealt with now instead of later.

"She's a friend," Amaya reminded Diaz with a note of caution in her voice, "and I've got a business to run. But once those weapons leave my shop, then it's no longer any business of mine."

"Sounds about right," Rosa accused, "coming from a person complicit with terrorists."

"Well, now," Amaya leaned back in her chair, folding her arms in front of her, and frowned up at Diaz, "that's just a little bit overdramatic, don't you think?"

Rosa? Overdramatic? She should stab you right now for even suggesting it, Blackstone.

"How did she even get the money?" Rosa fumed, grasping onto yet another tendril of this whole thing that had been bothering her. "She's broke as shit."

Amaya just shook her head. "I don't ask about that, either," she said. "I'm selling weapons, not morality lessons." But she considered Diaz for a moment before slinking down a little in her hair, reaching out a boot, and pushing the chair across from her out enough for Diaz to sit in.

And Rosa did just that, plopping down, some of the steam dissipating as she let it out, sighing and shaking her head, too. "I was really looking forward to figuring that one out, too," she murmured, after a long moment, "and bugging you about it all week."

"I know," Amaya said with a faint smile.

Which seemed to be all it took to get Rosa started again. "And that's another thing, too," she said. "She couldn't even have let me have that. And she waits to tell me now, after we've left, when she knows I'm going to be gone all week and can't touch her. Goddamn coward. If she thinks for a second this is going to blow over by the end of the week, then she clearly doesn't know anything about me. Which is what I've been saying this whole time, Blackstone. She doesn't know me at all. She doesn't even try. She just fumbles around blindly with her warped sense of the world, hoping to pass it off as--"

"Diaz," Amaya lifted a finger, cutting her off, giving her another one of those patiently warning looks. "Don't forget Rule One: No--"

"--talking about feelings," Rosa joined in to repeat the rule in unison with Amaya, and sighed, chastised, mulling over it, offering her own small apologetic smile. "You're right. Sorry. ...Think we can just pretend she never said anything, and I can still bug you about it for the rest of the week?"

Amaya snorted, gave a small nod. "You do you, Diaz."

"Thanks." Rosa lingered where she sat for a moment, looking across thet table appreciatively and figuring, since she'd already bent the rules a little bit so far, she'd at least get a slight bit more out. She stood. "I'll let you get back to your breakfast. But you're a real good friend, you know that, Amaya? Even to little pieces of shit who don't deserve it."

"Oh, come on now, Diaz," Amaya smirked back at her, "you shouldn't talk about yourself like that."

It was Rosa's turn to snort; she even maybe let herself smile a little bit for that one. "Right. Well. See you around."



And she went to grab a few things to munch on to take with her back to the room to grab all her stuff before the busses left, taking a moment to look back over to Amaya's table and call out, "Don't think this lets you off the hook, Blackstone. I'm going to figure this out."

"Oh, you think so, eh, Diaz?" Amaya called back. "I'd like to just see you try!" And then had to hide her grin inside her mug of coffee.

...Zounds, that was good coffee, too. She'd have to get some tips on how they made it before they were finished around here.

[[cut for length, preplayed with the fantastic, wonderful...ME! :D Mostly establishing, getting some of the stuff I usually just handwave out of my head for the moment, but if anyone wants to swing by Amaya's table and say hi, they're more than welcome!]]