Sledge really did have his attention on Seyta, even if he was trying to start a small fire. Proof of that was the way that he watched her free herself from what, he imagined, could not have been comfortable shoes. Once more he was appreciative of how these Yanks decided to wear costumes for Halloween. The gents were either lazy with their costumes, much like he had been, or they went for something that would be considered crude any other day of the year. As for the ladies... well, it was probably for the best the holiday came around only once a year, or else his mum and da would have objected to every girl he had ever shown interest in.

"Alright, a dream. Are we talking about a literal one or a figurative one?" he asked, his gaze lingering on those boots long enough that his lighter burnt his thumb a little. Sledge quickly dropped the curst thing and, following basic instinct, stuck the injured digit in his mouth. The act was so natural that he did not think of how he was now sucking his thumb in front of the girl he had been trying to chat up for so long.

"And in this dream you had a knife because..." he trailed off once the worst of the sting had subsided. She wasn't boring him with the topic of dreams, but he did want to know why, of all things, she wanted a knife for Christmas. Something told him that this wasn't a special kitchen knife, guaranteed to stay sharp, even if you cut raw meat with it. Seyta didn't strike him as that domesticated a lady. Probably because he had seen inside of her refrigerator. They say that you can tell alot about a lady by the contents of her purse. Sledge would argue that what she shopped for said more

>> "Alright, a dream. Are we talking about a literal one or a figurative one?"

“Um…both?” The more she thought about it the worse it sounded. IF David remembered anything from the dream then this would go well, if not…

>> "And in this dream you had a knife because..."

She sighed stretching out on the couch as she gathered her thoughts. Straightforward was always the best approach, hopefully. “I was an arena fighter… in um, death fights. Roach ran the place, called it ‘The Pit’. Oh, and the world was blown to s*** because of world war three. One of us caused it but I don’t remember who.” With a half-smile she watched his expression. “Anyway… I want the knife I had in The Pit. Something about it felt right.”

An eyebrow was raised when she said her dream was both literal and figurative, but he voiced no questions about it. He could be a patient man, able to listen for hours as even idiots prattled on about nonsense. This was easier though, since his attention was captivated by a very lovely lady. For now he was content enough to just listen to her talk. Curiosity ran deep in him, especially when it came to what was on the minds of others. If you could sit quietly and listen carefully, your curiosity often was satisfied just by listening.

A sense of dread chilled the back of David's neck as Seyta described her dream. He knew who caused world war three. What's worse he had felt as though he were to blame for it. Sure he never told his blackmailer what to do with her powers. The only skills she had that he had been trying to improve were all based upon her lies. Lies didn't make people go and blow up the city. He made a half grunt noise that got stuck somewhere between his throat and his mouth before picking up the bottle of vodka again. His little burner didn't need it for the feul, but Sledge needed something a little more bracing.

He could see what the Pit was like without having to ask Seyta for the details. Hearing that it was run by Roach told him that this was certainly similar to his own dream. The primary difference was that she had been given a knife in hers. "Lucky," he mumbled, "The pest dinnit even give me one."

Seyta looked up hearing David mumble something. "You think i'm crazy don't you?" It wouldn't surprise her considering what she was describing. "God, it still sounds nuts saying it out loud... Please believe me, I'm not crazy." She watched him with a pleading look. Granted she had this conversation with Venus, the day she woke up actually, but she hadn't grasped the whole situation. Seyta needed someone like David to listen and understand this.

David looked at Seyta with shock. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her. It was probably not for the best, but David was a very trusting person. He could be jaded, for sure, often looking at people and seeing the worst in them, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t believe them any less. “Oh no, I believe yeh. Probably more than anyone else should.” Averting his gaze, David placed the metal measuring cup carefully on top of his homemade stove. To think about the meaning behind his dream was as abhorrent a thought to him as getting an actual job. “We live inna world full o’ people tha’ do extraordinary things. Th’ Wright brothers’ dream’s been met with technology, and now mutants are putting it to rest. I doubt tha’ there isn’t much tha’ can’t be done by a mutation. With tha’ in mind, I wouldn’t be surprised iffin world war three does start with a mutant. Tha’s the way that they always start. One person or one party takes drastic action and leaves th’ rest o’ th’ world spinnin.”

Whether it was because of the vodka, which he had kept sneaking sips of while working on their coffee, or because that damn dream was still bitting him in the arse, David’s accent was becoming thicker. Shortly he would sound like an uneducated fool, the country bumpkin or street urchin that he tried so desperately to not come across as. The more he tried to fight it, the worse it got, and by the end of what he had been trying to reassure Seyta with, David found himself quite unable to stop the train wreck. He looked back up at her, trying to look reassuring, knowing full well that once he started dropping letters that language barrier became that much more thick. Did she even understand any of what he said?

“’m sorreh,” he said, frowned, and then tried once more with greater effort, “Sorry. Jest yeh dream makes me think of something I druther not think about. I suppose tha’ there’s worse reasons to want to defend yeh-yourself.” A different effect of the alcohol made itself known as David began to chuckle. Not only was he sounding like a street rat, but in correcting himself and taking his time with his words he now sounded like His Majesty King George the sixth.

>> “Oh no, I believe yeh. Probably more than anyone else should."

That was a relief, in fact it sounded like he knew the dream. Maybe it was shared like Venus said it was. As he explained Seyta watched him work. his accent started showing through but she understood the jist of what he was saying.

>> “...Sorry. Jest yeh dream makes me think of something I druther not think about. I suppose tha’ there’s worse reasons to want to defend yeh-yourself.”

"It's fine, I'm just glad you aren't calling the police. But honestly, the knife isn't for defense. I used it to kill people in that future. I just feel like i need it, or will need it." She stretched, cracking a few joints as she did, then sat up straight and faced David. "I hope that war doesn't happen, but i want to be ready for it if it does. I used my mutation to stay alive in the Pit. Roach always let me have a weapons fight, but I never was allowed to keep anything until i got that knife. I had to learn how to kill with no experience to help me. That knife became a part of who i was when Roach let me keep it." Memories flashed in her eyes as she described the fights. When she first woke up Seyta was terrified. The more she recalled the dream though the more she felt the same cold apathy she loved from the Pit. Apathy kept her alive, made her a favorite, helped her kill.

" 'e must 'ave fancied yeh," David said, checking on the progress of the makeshift tea kettle. A bubble of giggles, not even a more manly chuckle, urst from him at the notion. A textbook example of Beauty and the beast. "Pest liked to see me in there unarmed. Gave people th' show he wanted, but even being 'is champion dinnit get me nawt but trouble." For a minute the smiles stopped, David's eyes turning cold. It was the haunted look of a man who had lost it all, but was cursed with the fortune to have enough life in them to stew in the misery. When he had started a life of crime David had thought he found a way out of hell, but the future he had seen in that dream showed him the new damnation he could face.

Seyta's brief admition of mutation had not gone unnoted, even with vodka splashing about in his brain. The fog lifted from David's eyes, and he studied her. A mutation? David tried to puzzle out what on earth she did. That maybe her mutation would be to blame for the blind spots in his memory, like why she had not followed him to get coffe, did not occur to him. While Seyta had been open about being a mutant, David was still very much quiet about it. Those who knew about him being a mutant did so through no actions of his own. He had yet to actually say that he was a mutant. Kaitlyn had outed him to the ones in charge of the Sanctuary.

"Course I'm not calling the police," David said, wanting to get away from saying he was a mutant, "We just went on a looting spree through New York, and I've still got the bags sitting out."

>> "Pest liked to see me in there unarmed. Gave people th' show he wanted, but even being 'is champion dinnit get me nawt but trouble."

She watched his expression change, knowing that same feeling he had. "Trouble is all he gave any of us... I only got special treatment 'cuz I was valuable to him. Then I got tossed in the trash." A light bulb suddenly clicked on in her head. If David was one of the champions in the pit, he had to be a mutant to. She didn't watch most of the other fights, but she new the names.

>> "Course I'm not calling the police. We just went on a looting spree through New York, and I've still got the bags sitting out."

Well, that was something to be grateful for. As for Both of them being mutants, it felt like something she should share with David. At least if she wanted to get to know him better. Seyta blushed slightly at the thought of having a possible relationship. "Guess that was obvious... Doesn't hurt to check though right? Anyway, we were both in the Pit then. Guess its a good thing we never had to fight each other."

"Good fer me," he said, happiness creeping back onto his face. She was after all the lady he had been pursuing for some time now, and having her dressed in such a fashion, sitting on his couch was bound to make him flirt a little. "Means I dinnit 'ave to die to such an angel. Wouldn't 'ave had it in me to lay a finger on yeh." A fight with her would have indeed boiled down to him unable to strike at her. Even living like an animal, David had standards. Killing wasn't something he did, and fighting Seyta with his sledgehammers could result in her passing. "Of course it would have been a lovely way to go."

It was dark, both the flirtatious way he touched on his possible death and the apartment. "How do you like your coffee?" he asked her. While his earlier chat up line had been a bit more obvious, and certainly more along the lines of black humor, this one was fairly standard. Asking a lady or a bloke if they wanted a cuppa was probably the first way many learned to ask anyone out. Of course he had already asked her over, but this question tended to draw double entendras.

It also was a way of reminding them both why they were in his flat. Coffee was a natural way to bond, and a hot beverage offered comfot. Looking out the window at the now darkened skyline made his skin crawl. It was much better to keep his attention inside the flat. If nothing else it was a more pleasing picture framed by the camp stove and candle light. He couldn't remember seeing Seyta in his dream

>> "...Of course it would have been a lovely way to go."

Hearing that he wouldn't have wanted to kill her made Seyta smile. He might have given an expected response, but the way he was talking with that cute British accent just made him seem more genuine. Well, it seems he really does care for me. The thought of enjoying being killed by her was unusual though, but she decided he meant it as a compliment.

>> "How do you like your coffee?"

The question pulled her back from her mental wanderings. "Oh, um... One cream one sugar." While he fixed her cup she scooted over on the couch so David didn't need to sit on the floor, it was his apartment after all. "So, a slight change on topic. I still need to tell you what kind of knife I want. It was a Ka-bar combat knife, like the Marines use. Didn't have the seal on it though, so i think it was a civilian model."

"Sounds like a type of sweet you think?" David asked her, his mind starting to get a little silly, “Ka-bar, with the chewy caramel nougat filling.” He wasn’t mocking her weapon choice. Honestly he didn’t care for weapons himself, at least not for blades. Guns he liked, provided that he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. A mute point though, since he wasn’t legally in the country and could not purchase a firearm from any legal supplier, and going about obtaining one from the black market was a chancy endeavor. Either you got a weapon that was sub-par, too risky with firearms, or you ran the risk of them turning the cops on to you when the heat was put on them. A blade though, now that was entirely within his capabilities. There was less of a push towards security with knives, even one that was used not only by civilians but also by the military.

Coffee prepared for Seyta, David went about making his own cuppa. A good amount of sugar went into it, not because of a distaste for the bitterness of the brew, for he had gotten quite use to drinking it black, but because his body seemed to be building up an immunity to the caffine. With a sigh he realized that he was going to have to switch to a new type of coffee, one that would give him a better chance at staying awake for days at a time. There was always some sort of new blend being developed every day, no doubt that he could continue to switch as he grew use to the levels of awakeness that dwindled with each cup. Giving Seyta a dimpled smile he lifted his coffee mug up as if in a toast. “To the comforts of home?” he suggested. Her moving so that there would be room on the couch for him did not go unnoticed.

The question though was if he should take her up on it. The interactions between the two so far this night had been pleasant. Even if they were doing something illegal earlier, their words had been polite and a little flirtatious. In his experience though Seyta could turn her attitude towards him in an instant. Would taking the seat please her or simply infuriate her? Hard to say when she was making it clear what kind of weapon she wanted. A blade is something that meant having a calmness as you struck. Anyone could get a lucky shot, you had to be close to hurt with a knife.

>>“Ka-bar, with the chewy caramel nougat filling.”

Seyta stifled a laugh. Corny jokes had a charm about them in the right situation. Also it did sound like a good candy bar.

>> “To the comforts of home?”

She raised her glass and nodded. "Cheers." Seeing the question at the now open seat next to her Seyta nodded again. "I wont flip out on you. It's your own apartment so come get your *** off the floor." A grin crossed her lips as she sipped the coffee. David was being overly polite, it was sweet but almost annoying. However the improv coffee was quite good and did enough to make up for that. "So, you know that I want a ka-var. What do you want for Christmas?"

"It might be me flat, but you are the guest tonight. How could I claim to be a gentleman iffin I don't give you every comfort?" In spite of the words said, David did get himself up off the carpet and took a seat next to Seyta on his couch. It was only because of her gracing him with a rare smile that he dared to do so, even if she was using words that on any other night might not have had as much sugar to them. For a minute he sat there, smiling like an absolute daftie. His hands were warmed by the cup of hot coffee resting in them, and being in the presense of Seyta without either doing something to irk the other, namely him making a bodge job of it, warmed his chest.

The couch was comfortable and becoming to the man who spent as much time and effort in not sleeping as a sane person would pursue the chance to sleep. However much he wanted to drop off though, now that that notion was starting to wiggle its way towards the gray matter between his ears, Seyta had asked him a question and it took him quite by surprise. As a young child he had Christmas lists that, should they have been written down, probably would have stretched all the way round his neighborhood. Food, clothing, a tellie. There were so many things that he did not have but everyone around him did. That was what drove him to being a conman in the first place.

But now? David looked about the dark apartment, seeing the things that he had filled it with. "There isn't much I would want," he found himself admitting. Through his own hard work David had managed to tick off those things on those long Christmas lists. Maybe a visit to his family would be nice, or even just a call. Hell he'd even take talking to Charlie. But such a thing was impractical and not something he was readily going to admit to. "An atlas I suppose. Always good to know where you are."

>> "An atlas I suppose. Always good to know where you are."

Seyta playfully kicked him while chuckling. "An Atlas? Really? Did you forget to grab a GPS at Best Buy?" Granted there might have been nostalgic reasons or maybe David liked to plan road trips but it just seemed old fashioned. All in all though she could see that he was serious though, for whatever reason, so for the sake of a cute Brit she could hold off on the teasing. "But, I think I can find one. World atlas or just the US?"

"Got a few of them actually," David said. It wasn't that he missed the teasing tone in Seyta's voice, or the way that she kicked him like they were back in secondary school. For a change David was being totally honest without any ulterior motive. He had indeed grabbed some of the sat navs from Best Buy, three to be exact. Those he wasn't as sure about how he'd turn a profit from them, but it would come to him in time he was sure. First would be the annoying matter of dealing with any serial numbers that the store might be able to track the sat navs with. If worse came to worse and David found himself unable to find a way to gain profit from them he could always try having them turned into the police. There were enough criminals in New York that he could find someone to take the guilt and for him to get a nice reward for turning in a looter.

“Always liked maps,” David confessed, both looking and feeling rather sheepish. He had never been a large man, his body not holding onto fat, let alone any attempts at muscle building. As such David was not anyone’s first choice for a team member in childhood sports games. Hell, even with the power that his punches packed it was not an issue of muscles. He was not super strong, just super fast. Admitting to a rather geeky sounding interest did not exactly paint the image that David wanted Seyta to have about himself. But she had asked what he wanted for Christmas, and his mind went to the first thing that he had a good amount of, but didn’t always have the easiest time getting.

Waving a hand in the general direction of his walls he continued. “Collect them Doesn’t matter where in the world or at what point in history. Maps tell the story of the world and how mankind impacts it.” A hand went down to rub his shin where Seyta had kicked it. He had no problem with punching through a brick wall, but David still did not like getting hit. He nudged her with a knee, still a little giggly and playful with the alcohol seeping into his system on a relatively empty stomach. “Do you play football? Think you might ‘ave bruised me.”