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Ro Retna

Special Agent Retna, SIB.

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a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Cloasse

Description

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Name: Romanae Retna

Nicknames: Ro, Rory

Race: Human

Birthday: 23 August

Age: 34

Gender: Female

Height: Five feet six inches

Weight: 124 lbs

Eye Colour: Dark gray

Hair Colour: Dark titian (ginger)

Distinguishing Marks: The majority of Romanae's body is scarred. She has light white marks running diagonally down her left cheek, and she has a scar trailing from the left corner of her mouth to the middle of her cheek. Her torso, arms and thighs are especially scarred.

Other Features: Romanae's accent is a deeper Scottish lilt and is considered rougher than the average female voice.

History: Previously a Captain in the British Army, Ro now works for Wing City Police Department's SIB as a Special Agent. The SIB (Special Investigations Branch) deals with crime involving/against those in the Armed Forces and Military Police Arms. With a team of four men and herself as leading officer making five, the small but functional team worked well together until a new face was introduced.

Five months previously, another officer had left the team in order to be transferred across seas as a liaison officer. Now that there is a new probationary officer involved, it isn't quite so certain that Ro's team will gel as well as the last one did.

So begins...

Ro Retna's Story

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#, as written by Cloasse
"How many of those names are actually real, though?" Ro quipped after taking a drink from her own bottle. "Though I can agree that you're probably better at this whole charade than most of the other things in this room. That and you're not too bad to look at... Certainly better than staring at my CO all night. He'd wanted to go over transport plans. I don't know why; the plans never go exactly as he lists them, then he gets pissed off with me because for some reason it's always my fault that one of the baby soldiers forgot his toothbrush or one of them ended up tied to a lavatory stall with his own shoelaces..."

Admittedly, that latter example had been her fault. "So, I've given you a name. Do I get one in return, or should I just return the entirety of my attention to my beer?"

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#, as written by Cloasse
"To be fair, I didn't tie the guy to the toilet. Just to the stall. Inside the stall. Locked stall. That I climbed out of. I figure I can tell you it was me since there's little to no chance we'll ever see each other again after tonight and an even slimmer chance that you'll meet my CO to grass me up, so... Why the hell not, right?"

The smirk that had sharpened the soldier's features softened into a smile that, for all intents and purposes, probably meant she was warming up to both the beer and the man she was talking to - even if only a little.

"Rio, huh? And nah, I'd rather not sound like a complete freak and call you 'River River'. It's not your name because I, sure as shit, am not multi-lingual. I like how you insinuated at the end there that you'd rather this conversation lasted, though, Rio..."

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"I'm above most of the girls in Wing City because I'm not an emo, I'm not pathetic, I don't feel sorry for myself, I don't have any plans on falling in love with you, marrying you and having a brat with you within the next twenty-four hours and I'm pretty enough to pass for above-average. That I don't want to eat you and I can stand upright is a bonus, I'll allow..."

With a few taps of a short-nailed finger on the touch-screen, Retna ordered another beer. "You know, those things aren't good for you..."

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Romanae chuckled, rolling her eyes as she picked up her new beer. "Try as you might, I'm devoted to my job. I've no intention of falling in love with someone who I'd probably have to give up frontline service for, y'know? I've trained too damn hard for that."

Sighing into her bottle, Romanae temporarily considered the others in the bar. "I've seen people walk in here single and walk out pretty much engaged, you know. Kinda makes me feel sick that so many people are so desperate that they'd just make that kind of commitment like that." She snapped the fingers of her free hand for emphasis.

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#, as written by Cloasse
"Oh, crudeness now? How are you ever still single?" Yep. Sarcasm was one of the many tones Romanae used as often as she possibly could. "As for work... well, I like my work. If I worked in some office in the city, my Dad'd be pushing me to sign for custody of my sister, I'd be bored to tears on a nine-to-five routine... I'd probably shoot someone just for the thrill of avoiding the police."

There was that little smirk again, suggesting that Romanae found the thought of killing someone just for the sake of fun quite a realistic possibility - she wasn't exactly homicidal... an adrenaline junky, perhaps.

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"I doubt half the soldiers I'll be facing when I go out will be as good as I am," Ro stated, cool confidence with a beer in hand. "But they'll still be firing at me and that's all I need. That adrenaline, you know? I guess that makes me sound a bit queer, but that's really all it is. I've no' a death wish..."

Shrugging (an unconscious mimic of the movement Rio had made), the woman spent a silent moment drinking from her glass bottle. She couldn't see herself getting bored with her duty in the near future - she had a goal, and as long as she had a goal, she'd be just fine!

"So why're you here? For the drink? For the... uh... multitude of... sexy women?" She was struggling to keep the amusement out of her voice and away from her features. "Or the sexy men..?"

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"So if it looked, talked and acted like a broad, you'd do him. Poor thing. There are plenty of man-women around here. Better watch how inebriated you get in the future - I certainly won't be here to hold your attention next time you find yourself face-to-face with a man-lady."

He kind of was doing well; he hadn't been shot in the face, kicked in the crotch or strangled yet, so that was clearly a few points in his favour.

"Hah - exciting. Freaks can be exciting, I guess. Last time I was here... I think I was with James and Mordecai. That was awkward. It always is awkward when your CO tags along on what was meant to be a date," she grinned.

"And no, I've not got a target. I'm just a soldier. I go out and shoot people in warzones, not in shitty little bars. Plus, I don't drink beer when I'm about to kill someone. The alcohol is likely to interfere with the high I'd get off the adrenaline rush, you know? Not to mention that I can be incredibly... professional when needs be."

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#, as written by Cloasse
"I can let loose if I need to. I just haven't found anyone worth having a bit of fun with in this sorry excuse for bar. Ever since Jamie upped sticks for a bloody office job here -" and he was the only reason she was even here, except he'd had to blow her off for a homicide "- the whole 'going out for a party, looking for one-night-stands or friends-with-benefits' thing has really went downhill. That and Mordecai threatened to do nasty things if I came back drunk... again."

Which was why she was drinking right now, of course. She loved winding Mordecai up because he was mostly idle threats.

"I can't imagine that I'd be very good at running or giving orders if I can't walk straight or talk without slurring, though. I'll stick to being sober in the middle of a war and drunk off my skinny arse when I'm in bars."

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"I figure the people lining up to be killed by sweethearts like me either deserve to be dead or would be better off dead, y'know? I've no guilt. I'm serving my mother-fucking country and it makes me proud. But you're right, not everyone slurs and stumbles when drunk - I do, though. Four or five beers in -" and she had just finished her second "- I start getting a bit weak in the knees. Then the speech goes a bit to pot."

She didn't appear to have any shame over being a bit of a lightweight or that she couldn't control herself quite as admirably under the influence - to Romanae, it was probably like a game. Typically, the woman took no notice whatsoever of the latest addition to the patrons of Gambit's bar. She really just did not give a fuck.

"And you talk a really big game for someone who's got no proof..."

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"I'm not squeamish," Romanae pointed out with a grin. "Proof wouldn't make me hurl or run away squealing like a ten year old girl." Not unless one of the bodies woke up again. She did have to admit to a bit of fear coming from one too many zombie movies.

"Anything to talk about? Well, we could talk about anything... I hear that most girls like to talk about themselves, but... I don't have that much of a life to tell you about. My friends are all in the same situation as me, in the SIB building or back home. You know, one of the reasons I work is so I can afford my vices." If he wanted to buy her a drink that badly, though... "I wouldn't object to another drink. Your choice of poison?"

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Considering the touch-screen menu (she hated the bloody things, by the way - you couldn't moan at a touch-screen when you've had a tough day like you could a real person), Romanae decided to throw caution to the wind and ordered two glasses of whisky. It wasn't usually to her taste, but considering that tonight was pretty much all about getting a bit not-sober, she figured it'd help her alone nicely!

Romanae merely rolled her eyes at the intrusion of the non-human asking for help. "What did I say? Best woman in the bar 'cause I ain't pathetic," she said with a wink for Rio.

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"Put it out of its misery," Ro suggested helpfully as she waited for her whisky to arrive. "Stick it in a trash compactor or something." Those were helpful ideas indeed. "If it can't talk in first person, it sure needs more help than you can offer it, Mister Abhainn."

The woman lounged back against the counter, all cool indifference with very little warmth attached to the expression she gazed over the other being with. When she did turn back to Rio, however, there was a little smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, and her dark eyes held a little less steel and a little more fire - fire no doubt spurred on with a bit of liquid luck.

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Ro Retna shrugged her shoulders, smirking all the while. "What can I say, I'm a beautiful, evil person. Pretty sure that the drinks should be here by now..." Romanae glanced over her shoulder at the counter and, with the first hint of a real smile, noted that the drinks were just arriving. "Here we go."

The redhead turned and lifted both of the glasses, pale, long fingers remaining wrapped around both drinks. "I'm not sure I want to give you your 'damned drink' yet, though... Maybe you've got more 'important' issues, what with the tin can trying to get your attention and what not. I wouldn't know, I'm just a somewhat tipsy woman..."

The smirk returned.

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While Rio may've assumed that Romanae's left was the weaker (although it wasn't - both of her hands were similar in strength, though she could only write legibly with her left), that didn't mean she'd actually let go of the glass once he'd closed his grabby fingers around it. So, they were left holding the same glass, the female of the pair failing miserably at hiding the altogether amused look on her face.

"Did you just try to snatch your drink out of my hand?" the soldier asked, voice quaking slightly with suppressed laughter (laughter that probably wasn't warranted, but she was under the damn influence and she'd laugh at whatever the fucking hell she wanted to look at). "Didn't your mother teach you that snatching was bad?"

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"Yes, it's still snatching. The ownership of the glass makes no difference to how rudely you try to procure said object from the person holding it," she scolded, albeit in a reasonably good-natured manner, as she released the glass into Rio's no doubt careful hands. "Though if you touch my hand again without express permission first, I'm going to kill you with it."

And that was no idle threat! Except it probably was right now - had Romanae been completely and utterly sober (and not in possession of some whisky), it'd probably be quite likely that she could kill Rio. Not in the mood to dwell on such thoughts, happy as they were, Romanae widened her smile and, after winking, drank some of her whisky.

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Tilting her head, Romanae raised an eyebrow. "You just touched my hand again. What a terrible thing to do after I've just told you not to. Really, did your Mummy not tea you any manners?" Knocking back the rest of her whisky and consequently pulling a face as she replaced her glass on the counter, Romanae coughed out a laugh and returned the tap.

"Now I remember why I don't drink that stuff," Ro went on to state, voice tight. "Can't knock it back without hacking up a lung in the process."

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"Gives you a warmth, though," Romanae stated with a nod. "And yeah, I guess if I were an alcoholic who constantly drunk the stuff, I might get used to it. As it is, I'm not allowed to go out on the blaze every other day!"

That said, Romanae leant forward on her seat and fixed Rio with a stare. "Your hand is still touching mine, however minute the contact," she informed him.

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"You know... if I weren't climbing a buzz right now, you'd be twitching on the floor," Romanae smiled. That was a totally nice thing to say, right? Alcohol saved your life? Yeah. Definitely. The smile even helped. "If you're trying to be smooth, though, I think you're missing the part about not being so damn obvious..."

And with those words, Romanae leant back and went about ordering some fruity concoction from the bar via the touch-screen, all the while preening about how she could still hold someone's attention if she damn well wanted to (what? She was still a woman, she cared!).

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Ro Retna snorted. "You're probably right. If you weren't here, getting drunk - or being drunk, I'm not sure if I can tell whether or not you're tipsy or off your face - with me, I would probably be trying to figure out how to get that stupid 'please help me, I'm so useless I can't fix myself' robot to open a can of juice for..." She trailed off, eyes resting on their hands.

"Are you serious? Hand-holding? Are you a twelve year old girl? Really? Awww, you're really something else. Even Jamie wasn't that girly when we were kids. You're a strange man, Rio. Man-girl, I should say."

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"So what you're really saying is that you're a scaredy-cat who thinks someone like little old me would scare you away from even a wee kiss or, as it would now seem, basic contact between two limbs? Ooh, and I bet you thought you were a brave soul, too. Aah, well. Guess that your 'kills' weren't the only thing you couldn't prove tonight, hm?"

And that entire speech had been uttered in such a teasing manner that it was highly unlikely Romanae meant any of it - except maybe that part about being a scaredy-cat because, really, she wasn't exactly an intimidating figure!

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Yeah, okay, so maybe she had kind of asked for that - wasn't it James who had said something along the lines of 'you get what you ask for'? And she had pretty much just asked for the guy to prove he was in fact a bloke. Ah well. The redhead idly locked her fingers around Rio's wrists and, after a moment, ended the awkwardly angled kiss by pulling back and then hooking an ankle around the leg of Rio's stool and tugging sharply.

Assuming, of course, that he actually fell down. Considering the amused state she was in, it wouldn't have surprised Romanae if he'd just stepped off the stool in the process (though considering that she herself had nearly had to hop off her stool, it just didn't seem fair if he wasn't even jolted).

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Ro shrugged her shoulders - she supposed that she was hoping he would've been that easy... "I guess so," she replied, back to her usual smirk already. "But you're definitely not all bark, no. That was an interesting way of proving masculinity, but surely you could've done a bit better than hauling me over."

Snickering, Romanae paused to straighten her shirt and resettle herself properly on her seat. "Might want to pick up your stool. Wouldn't want someone to trip over it."

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The eldest of the Retna twins had just come off-shift and, after a solid twelve hours of manning the tip hotlines with a gibbering Benjamin and a pissed off Tommy, she really needed some coffee. She'd go home, eventually, and tumble into bed to get ready for the next shift (thankfully not on the hotlines), but right now she needed caffeine. Something to keep her brain going just long enough to walk home, check on her sister and make sure she remembered to change out of her work clothes.

And Gambit's was just the place to fill that hole with hot liquid. The Special Agent closed the door behind herself before heading over to the bar to smack her hand on the counter and demand a fix of a large black coffee.

"Don't even think about asking me if I want cream or sugar, either," the woman warned the server. Considering the few people in here, the bar should just about be quiet enough to enjoy her coffee. At the very least, Romanae didn't think that she was going to get shot, stabbed, eviscerated, attacked, snogged or hugged. Not tonight.

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"Do not even start with me, mate," Romanae snorted after performing a cursory glance up and down Ryde's person. "And really? Cream and sugar in whisky? Are you too bitter or something?"

Finally - minutes later - finally her coffee arrived in a tall, off-white polystyrene cup emblazoned with some logo or another. The redhead wrapped her fingers around the cup and brought it to her lips - she didn't give a shit if she burnt her tongue, she needed caffeine.

It took her a minute to realise why her hands looked strange; the cup's lack of pristine whiteness only served to highlight the thin white scars that twisted occasionally over her skin. Wrinkling her nose, Romanae turned to regard Stanton Ryde once again.

"So was that an attempt at a pick up line, or an attempt at starting a conversation?"

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"Give me your best shot," Romanae dared, lips quirking with some form of sarcastic amusement as she followed Ryde to a table. "I'm tired and and irritated; I could do with a laugh right now."

Because, really... There was no form of entertainment quite like watching an idiot make a complete and utter tit of himself.

"You know that you generally require some form of mutual attraction before two people will just roll into bed with one another, right? I am definitely good enough for you, but... Any man who needs to sweeten his whisky to the point of diabetes can't be that much of a man." The agent's smirk grew.