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Once she had stopped wearing her White Knight armor, it was a lot hard to call Sei being the one who just walked in while your back was turned. She had a surprisingly light step for someone so... defined.
“Evening, Jill!”
“Evening, Sei. I see you're still wearing the bandage,” Sei still hadn't gone with the eyepatch look – or just plumped for cyberization like Jamie or Stella, “it's very stylish.”
“Haha, do you think? I keep meaning to do something about it, but I always end up forgetting.”
Jill nodded. “It's very rugged – I think it suits you. Though I'm sure you could get something just as stylish if you want the extra features.”
“Like what?” Sei eased into her chair before perching her chin in her open palm. “Infrared?”
“You never know when you'll need an ocular can opener.”
“I didn't know you were such a cyber eye aficionado, Jill.”
“Oh don't worry, I'm not. That one's all Jamie – he said it made the difference between life and death once on the job. He was a...” Thankfully, working at a bar provides plenty of ways to manage trailing off or avoiding questions by looking busy. “...Surviv...alist?”
Sei tilted her head, making the bandage slide a little. Man, that must have hurt. “Are you asking me?”
“No, I just... you know when you can't think of the right word for somebody's job?”
“Like the people who need those special spike arms to crack open hyper mecha-oysters?”
“Exactly!” Jill hopped up a little, propped by a hand on the bar. “But you know, I have a foolproof way of remembering those.”
“What's that?”
“They're tough mothershuckers.”
“...” Sei smiled awkwardly.
“...I-it's because... you know... they're... they're called shuckers. And... and you have to be brawny... to deal with the hyper oysters...”
“Jill, please, you don't have to-”
“And... and mothershucker sounds like...”
“Jill... Jill are you crying?”
“*sniff* I'm fine. I'm fine! You want a drink, right?”
“But you still haven't told me how Jamie's cyber eye saved his life.”
“Here you go, a Spark Star – isn't it a happy drink? You want something like this, right?”
“Y-yeah, that's fine – but the can opener...?”
“The what?”
“Jamie's eye, saved his life?”
“Right, right, right... right...”
“Jill, are you okay?”
“So the eye...”
Sei settled back and took a sip of her drink.
“During one of Jamie's... expeditions... he got stranded in a collapsed tunnel.”
“Wasn't he a-”
“An urban survivalist.”
“Right.” Sei took another drink, smiling lightly at the sweet taste.
“So he was in luck, because the explo... pedition... had... unearthed a lost cache of Chef BRB.”
“Isnt that stuff worth millions?”
“Billions,” Jill responded instantly, “the chef still hasn't returned as he promised. The veins are getting harder and harder to fine, especially the ravioli.”
“Is that even edible after all these years? Would you worry about botulism?”
“Don't we have a vaccine for that these days?”
“No no, that's the bipartisanship vaccine.”
“Right, right. That saved a lot of trouble.” Jill looked off into the distance for a moment. “So anyway, most people would be up a creek, right? But he had his ocular can opener.”
“Couldn't you just use a rock or a knife?”
“Have you tried to get into one of those cans? They're hard enough with a can opener, you really want a diamond-coated edge on it.”
“A diamond edge for canned food?”
“It's really good canned food.”
“Have you had it?”
“Y-... no. But I found this really cool imitation recipe on the net!”
“Oh, how did it come out?”
“...I don't cook.”
“...Oh.”
“A-anyway, that's why you should consider an optical multitool... I think.”
“In case I get stranded with a can of raviolis?”
“...It sounds dumb if you say it like that.”
“No no, it sounds very, er, heroic? Or, um, rugged?”
“Right?!”