Shabaony Shuffling - Open to Aidoneus & myself

Cortez was reliving a lot of vicious moments in his history, ones with massacres, murder, espionage, revolution, and of course sabotage. Cortez was not a hero for the people like the man befire him; he was an enforcer of the government to destroy those who would defy justice. The two of them seemed even have some of their stories related. The events of one story would lead to causing of another often times. Cortez had had a lot of alcohol. While if wouldn't affect him noticeably at first, those with keen perception could see the relaxation and the contentment. He was sadistic still, but drunk he didn't hate everybody. His sadism would be slightly more forced and more of a profession than an identity. Cortez had just leaned back a little when the man revealed, obviously with intent, his missing arm. Then suddenly he was using it as a segway to reveal an ability. It would likely be an attempt at persuasion, but what did he care?

"Your ability? There are only a couple of abilities a prosthetic would interfere with. Quite the unique ability. You don't peg me as someone who wants to be an anchor, but life is as chaotic as I am. Curiousity gets the better of me."

Cortez watched the man sincerely. Drunk cortez was sincere. Honest when available, and not malicious. Just responsibility and philosophy.

"My ability is rather .. awkward, you see. Not some sort of bizarre freak of nature, mind you, it is quite the opposite, in fact. It just .. tents to peel off objects and items that are not directly me. You can assume that it is quite embarrassing for an old man like me to have to walk around naked after usage. Has got to be one of the few ones that have such an unfortunate side-effect, I reckon. So I'd rather keep that power away unless there exists no other way to solve an emergency. Thankfully I only have to resort using that sparingly. Hence almost no one in the force has actually seen it. Well .. with the chaotic place this world is turning, you may end up seeing it soon, I presume."

The old marine seizes talking for a moment, pausing, and seems to direct his hearing elsewhere. Some faint rumble can actually be heard, he, Cortez, would surely hear it too if he was to listen. "Am going to assume that he already took take of that little revolt issue I reporter earlier on. As I told you, we didn't had to bother, so might as well enjoy that delicious liquor."

Cortez mentally noted to look directly at the man anymore; only eye contact and peripheral from then on. But it was quite the unique ability. He wondered if anyone in this world or perhaps another had the opposite effect, perhaps having things stick to them like glue? Cortez considered the weaknesses of the ability. No armor. No anything, except maybe hand-held weapons. More than enough for marines of their caliber. He heard a rumble amidst the explanation and listened carefully. It sounded like gunfire, rushing people, breaking stone, a clutter of voices... but something else he couldn't quite peg. Then the marine before him brought attention to the noise.

"Oh so that commotion is the other one eh? I never drop my guard. Too many assassination attempts for that. With that in mind, I'll just keep listening for anything strange. It doesn't sound like a threat to us."

Cortez finished his cantine. He tipped it, showing that it was bone dry. He reachd into his back pocket and revealed a flask about 1/5 the size of his cantine, and it was glowing copper, lighting the area with golden rays in the sunlight.

"I always hated that they designed the flask to be so bright. But it's the only thing that can hold ogre killer without letting the alcohol escape. Well other than kairoseki of course. High-grade weapons' steel mixed with copper, garnet, gold, titanium, and neon. Made to hold the strength of any strong drink. But I am sure you are aware of the drink. It cost me two years salary and an unlucky pirate's kidney to get it out of that dragon's hands. 198 proof with the 1% being strong herbal remedies and nutrients. It's supposed to be so concentrated that one drop will sour 10 gallons of milk, and two drops would turn a lake into weak beer. I've been told that only those with the strongest tolerance can survive the stuff. Would you like to take a risk and have a shot?"

Cortez had snatched two glasses from a nearby crate. The experienced marine likely saw the subtle blurs of his movements and knew he had grabbed something. Cortez had paid so much for the drink for this moment. The moment where he and some other 'hero' got piss drunk and had some fun. Who knows. Maybe cortez would get drunk enough to actually save someone.

"Oh, is that so?!" The old man seems rather excited, for the first time his tone breaking off from the friendly, but wise and prestigious timbre to a somewhat more casual and enthusiastic pitch. They say that men never grow up, just that their toys or interests become more expensive, and the focus he was giving once he heard of this elusive liquid seemed to confirm that even someone like him had some youth passion about certain "delicacies". However, his excitement fades only a mere second later, only to be replaced with a bitter smile.

"Now now, you ruined me. Would love to "spar" it out with you. BUT. Sadly this is where I have to depart. Let's just say that .. business calls at some of the most inappropriate times." The veteran claims, quite an anticlimactic way to call it a day. However, as he begins to walk away -not even a farewell?- he stops, then lightly turns his head, for a macho grin towards the Marine. "Do me the favor and save that for later; we will meet again, pretty soon." he enigmatically speaks. It was true that during their conversation -and drinking fest- there was some talk regarding them working together, but nothing outside the offer itself was mentioned beyond that.

As he is making his leave, he makes one final gesture; he seems to point to an empty bottle near where he was sitting earlier. There was a small piece of paper glued against the still wet glass, that didn't seemed to match the beverage's logo or trademarks. On a closer inspection, Cortez would easily realize what it was. A vivre card.