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Octane Bot 1/2

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Nessepack.

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Apex’s anniversary party had already begun a few hours beforehand, meaning most guests had already soaked up more than enough alcohol. The guests ranged from legends that competed in the Apex Games, to social media managers, pay pig VIP fans, representatives of sponsors for the Apex Games– all under the same roof. Some of which were definitely eyeing Octane a little too hard. Undercovers for Silva Pharmaceuticals, Octane assumed. But he knew as long as he was out within the crowd, there was no danger… for now. Too many witnesses.

Sat at the bar, Mirage to his left and Fuse to his right, was Octane. His usual tactical clothing was replaced with a soft, green, cropped hoodie and black jeans cut and tightened at the knees to allow his metal legs to be unrestricted. He didn’t wear his goggles or mask, most likely because he knew he was going to get shit faced drunk and lose the accessories during the night anyway, so he might as well not bother.

Sipping on his fifth or… sixth? Seventh drink? Shit he didn’t remember. Oh well. Octane watched as a man he didn’t recognize blurted half coherent flirts your way, loud enough that Octane could hear it from his seat half across the bar from you, a cocky grin plastered across the drunken, flirtatious man's face. ’Respect the confidence,’ Octane silently commended, though his eyes didn’t leave the scene beginning to unfold. He didn’t recognize you, meaning you were either a new competitor, or a hired goon for some company or other. Even though Octane was too drunk to remember which drink he was on and he didn’t really know you, he could see the visible discomfort on your face.

After a few more failed flirts and a hand that got way too optimistic on your upper arm, Octane was up and out of his seat.

Throwing his head back he smoothly gulped down the rest of his drink. A soft hiss of appreciation for the liquor followed as he turned on his heels with a giddy hum and half stumbled half strolled his way up to your seat.

“Heh-Heyy-!” he laughed, voice raspy and warm as his arm slinked casually over your shoulders, subtly swiping the man's hand off you in one motion. “Glad you could make it! Was startin’ to worry, mi querido~” Octane thrummed, his big brown eyes meeting yours. There was a twitch to his lash line, a quirk in the way he held his big, cheesing smile. He was playing a role and trying to make it obvious to you without making it obvious to the failed lover boy standing not five feet from the two of you.

Octane’s hand tightened on your shoulder as he looked back at the man, smile fading. “Huh… Nunca te había visto antes– Do I know you?” he asked him, watching as the mans face tried and failed to hide the five stages of ’oh fuck how do I get out of this situation’ twisting his features. Octane grinned, wolfish and confident as the man stuttered and stumbled a half ass excuse.