Olivia accepted the proffered hand and, clasping it for support, gracefully leaped off the hovercycle. Smirking underneath her helmet, she let go of him and headed towards the airlock-like double doors to the canteen. Passing through, she was greeted by the cool, clean breeze only a heavy duty air conditioning unit could provide in an environment like this. Grateful, she pulled off the helmet and took a long, deep breath.
"Now that's more like it," she said, satisfaction plain in her voice, as Damian entered behind her. She turned to face him, a cheeky smile on her face. "I guess this alone was worth the ride here."
For a moment it seemed as if he was going to say something, he'd very much opened his mouth to do so but would quickly shut it upon being interrupted by the diner's enthusiastic owner. "Kid! You're back! Good to see you! Ah, and I see you listened to my advice from last time and found yourself a strong looking girl. Come on introduce me." The owner was a fairly old looking man, he must have owned and managed the place for a while now, clearly the sort to be personally involved with his business to ensure quality. Damian, out of politeness which might have been rehearsed, did as he was prompted to. "Olivia this is Sal, Sal this is Olivia. But she's-" Clearly he would not be getting the luxury of finishing his sentences with the old man around. "Olivia's a pretty name and she's pretty alright. You best hold onto her while you have her. Loyalty and genuine bonds are something this House ditched a while ago. Anyway, I run this place, family set the place up a while ago. Grandfather decided he'd rather feed people than work in a mine or assembly line. Come on, please take a seat!" He was so aggressively friendly that the average person simply couldn't help but immediately develop a sense of fondness for him. He was definitely the loud but caring Uncle stereotype in a family, opting to offer Olivia a brief handshake before he'd seat her and Damian and get them sorted out for a meal.
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Shaking the old man's firm, slightly damp hand, Olivia gave Damian a sideways glance, an eyebrow raised in bemusement.
"It's... a pleasure to meet you," she said, a slight chuckle in her voice, as she sat down at the offered table, across from Moretti. She glanced around. The establishment reminded her of the movies she used to watch in her home station's small cinema - classy drug lords meeting to exchange kindly disguised threats, henchmen fingering sidearms beneath fancy suit jackets, clueless patrons sitting about, enjoying the simple but delicious meals cooked up by the kind, if overly energetic staff.
Olivia placed her elbows on the table top and, leaning forward, rested her chin in her hands. She looked at Damian curiously, wondering just how much of a show he was putting on right now, or whether this actually was his more genuine side. The owner, Sal, clearly knew him well and wasn't treating him like the psychopathic terrorist he was described as in the rumors she had heard. Nor did he, at that moment, remind her at all of the cold-blooded killer she had first met on Ames.
"You come here often," she spoke, more a factual observation than a question. She smiled at him innocently.
When Sal left them alone to go see about getting them a meal whipped up, Damian took his chance to softly chuckle, he almost seemed embarrassed by all of this. When he'd composed himself to an extent where he could properly respond again, he nodded in affirmation of Olivia's observation. "I like his food and he doesn't give me a hard time. So yeah, I come here when I can, usually whenever I'm laying low." That admission made him very much seem like a simple man, he just wanted good food like anyone else and the few moments of peace necessary to enjoy it.
Sal was back soon enough, a spring to his step and two trays of steaming hot food prepared for the guests. It looked very much like a lovingly prepared meal famous among the locals, a tall sandwich complimented by a generous slice of meat-filled pie and some fries for when crunch was desired. The moment the trays were set down on the table in front of the two, Sal circled back around to stand behind Damian and gripped onto both his shoulders, giving him a mild but affectionate shake. "He's a good kid, he is. Only person who came through for us back when Cryer's stock of stabiline ain't what it is now. Practically the reason my youngest girl's alive. Those no-good friends of her got her pressured into that dirt the Outcasts poison the place with. It's well enough if you're some rich brat on the blue ball you can see in the night sky, but out here living off honest work, it can be a death sentence. Anyway, I'm sure you two didn't come here for sentimental Sal, I'll give you some privacy." Throughout that series of statements, Damian had tried numerous times to interject and say that nothing needed to be said about the extent of his involvement here. He'd failed every single time, owed entirely to Sal's ability to speak over anything, everything and everyone. Eventually just conceding his defeat and quietly eating the meal he'd been served, saying nothing even for the few moments of silence that lingered when Sal stomped his way back into the kitchen to make sure meals were being put out promptly.
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Olivia tossed a fry in her mouth and chewed, smirking. Seeing someone as usually cool and collected as Damian cringe under the sheer overwhelming, energetic kindness of Sal was thoroughly amusing to her. What the diner's owner had said about the man also interested her - painting a picture of him that lay in stark contrast to what the media reported about the Xenos and their leadership.
"The people's hero, huh?" She teased with a grin on her face as she reached for the sandwich before her. She took a bite and paused for a second, raising her eyebrows in delighted surprise at how good it tasted. Just the right combination of flavors, both sweet and savory. She could already foretell that this meal would make a bit of a mess of her stomach when taking off from this poor excuse for a planet later, but it was too good and she was too hungry to really mind.
"I guess what you claim about yourself isn't all made up after all."
With Sal finally gone, Damian took a sigh of relief. He was definitely the overwhelming sort of old man, but he meant well and looked out for his lot. It was more than you'd otherwise get in a House as ruthlessly opportunistic as Liberty. And that meant something. Since nobody was around to eavesdrop and their booth was without immediate neighbors, Damian explained. "There's a philosophy we have in the movement. The only other person a Xeno can rely on is another Xeno. He figured I had the look of a spacer about me, and that I could handle myself, so he asked for my help and I gave it - freely. I'm not going to delude myself into thinking I'm their hero. But we do look out for our own." In the moment, and as he explained, it became apparent that Damian obviously cared for his fellow rebels. Regardless of how much he enjoyed stirring up trouble, murdering equally ruthless rivals and toppling well-laid plans, he wasn't truly different from anybody else shaped by circumstances Liberty was known for. He just did his own killing rather than relying on an intermediary.
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"Look out for your own?" Olivia repeated Damian's words as she finished up her sandwich. Wiping her fingers on a paper napkin, she continued, "Then, after what you did on Ames, does that make me one of your own, too?" She raised her eyebrows again, this time quizzically. Perhaps she was reading too much into things, but she had the feeling that the Xeno was trying to strengthen a bond between them that went beyond simple acquaintanceship.
Waiting for his reply, she thought back to the events that unfolded in Kepler - her near-death and the unsolicited actions of the man now sitting across from her that prevented it. When she had asked him that day, why he had bothered helping someone he practically didn't know in circumstances that could have had considerable repercussions for himself, he had quickly swept the question aside, leaving her to wonder. Did he consider her to be a fellow citizen of Liberty, trodden upon by the wealthy, egotistic upper class, the greedy corporations, and government? Or had it simply been a whim of his, to keep one of the few lawful mercenaries not out to kill him alive? The only thing she could be sure of, was that Damian's concern for the people, his investment in the cause he championed appeared genuine.
Every minute spent with him made her more curious about Moretti as a person. Nevertheless, she refused to let her guard down entirely. His intentions may have been truly good, but his methods remained less than convincing.
An oddly specific question, he couldn't help but wonder if it was loaded. All the same he intended to answer honestly, keeping a hold on his currently idle spoon that he'd begun eating the pie with just moments prior. "I don't think I'm the one who can answer that, it sounds more like something you'd have to decide for yourself. I honestly don't regret what I chose to do in the moment. If I hadn't I'd be forced to make this trip alone and I can't help but feel like.. it would have been significantly more dull if that had been the case." There was the briefest of moments as he was saying all of this, where his tone went from simple politeness to a degree of tenderness that he simply did not provide anyone with. It slipped his attention as well, but when he caught himself doing it, he hesitated before completing his sentence and finishing what little remained of his meal.
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Olivia's eyes narrowed every so slightly as she caught a glimpse of genuine emotion from the man opposite her. The corners of her mouth twitched but she kept herself from grinning, not wanting to give Damian the impression that he was being observed. Instead, she casually tossed another fry in her mouth and let her gaze wander around the establishment. Indeed, it wasn't particularly busy - likely due to the relatively late hour and the inhabitants of the city needing to get what sleep they could before their next grueling factory shifts.
As she glanced around the restaurant, she spoke softly but with conviction, "I think we both know what I'd decide for myself." She turned her head back to face Damian. "But I have to admit, missing out on this on account of being dead really would have been a shame." She picked up her spoon and dug it into the meat pie on the table before her. "It's been a while since I took the time to..." She paused, briefly caught up in a distant memory - a scene of a bar before her, a young man with the same brown hair as hers sitting in a booth across from her. She shook her head, dissolving the image in her mind. "To just hang out," she finished, giving Damian a genuine smile.
Her smile would be reciprocated with equivalent sincerity and direct eye contact. It was unimaginable to believe he could flip a switch and be somebody else when dealing with other criminals and law enforcement, not when his nature came across as so simple and grounded. Maybe that was just it, maybe there needed to be two people. This version of him wouldn't have lasted long in a brutally competitive underworld. And if he was unable to defend himself, what could he possibly offer anyone else? Cake in a crisis was hardly a consolation. "That and I'm sure the food does its own job of providing compelling justification on why living this long was worth it." An attempt at humor to prevent overly sentimental humor from resulting in hurtful reflections on the past, it was unlikely that he knew she was experiencing the same thing as him, but an amusing distraction was a distraction nonetheless. He was getting prepared to pay for the food they had both enjoyed together, unsure of how long she could afford to stay here. It felt as if he'd more or less lost track of time, but his recollection was unhindered enough by this experience to remind him that there was nothing quite so crucial that he needed to concern himself with for at least the next day.
"Take your time finishing up, I'll go pay for our food and drop you back at the spaceport when you're ready to go." He stood up and momentarily left her alone at the table to do just that, walking over towards a counter at the back of the diner to exchange a few words with Sal, who seemed no less excited than he had been when they first arrived. No doubt suggesting something to Damian who was powerless to interject or refuse, Sal was loud enough for a few words to be heard even from where Olivia was sitting, he seemed to be insisting on something about taking a picture.
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