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Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2010 9:55 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme OOC: Sorry Boots, Amelia. We couldn't wait! If you finish quick, you can still join. Otherwise, we can RP your joining :)
Grime. Grime covered the walls and floor of the engine room. Grime and soot and grease. Also, parts. Parts and tools. Fortunately, those two were orderly, after a fashion. There was a big metal box with a half-rusted hinge for the tools, tucked into the corner, and those tools that were not strewn on the floor were kept safely in that box. The parts were not so lucky-- they were arranged on the floor in a rough semi-circle around the large engine. Right in the center of it all was Valentin, securing a sort of bent, oblong-shaped hunk of metal into a slot that seemed intended for some other purpose entirely. Yet, with a bit of a wriggle and a bit of pressure, in it popped with a satisfying "clink." But the grime. Oh, the grime. Valentin surveyed the battlefield-- for that's what it was. Off to the side was bin containing a small pile of corpses: the smoldering parts that had bitten the dust, finally giving out after their most recent daring escape. Close at hand was Valentin's weapons and allies: the tools and the spare parts, some in better condition than others. They weren't all ready for another battle, not really, but that's what happened in war. Sometimes, you needed to use soldiers even if they weren't prepared. Everywhere you looked was Valentin's enemy: the dreaded grime, and dust, and dirt and grease. He shuddered as he wiped his hands on the rag on his shoulder. He had never imagined that a ship would be treated as roughly as Captain treated the Wessel. But, she knew what she was doing-- that much, Valentin knew for sure. The parts gave out sometimes, but Wessel always pulled through; she was a tough ship, almost as tough as Captain. And so Valentin continued to work, cleaning parts that had gotten mucked up, replacing those that couldn't stand the rage of war, and coaxing Wessel back to life. Of course, there was no need for him to be aboard Wessel at that moment. She was working just fine as she was, to tell the truth-- they wouldn't be docked happily otherwise. No, it was Valentin's own choice to stay behind and reassemble the engine. Captain usually suggested he go out to the bar with him, and even Doc invited him every now and again, but Valentin almost always declined. He'd gone at first, just to see what it was all about. It had seemed like such a brilliant idea-- When Captain and Doc went out, they always seemed to show up magically in the morning, the Captain with a handsome man, and the Doc with a pretty girl. It had seemed just like magic-- as if the bar was a place where you magically met a pretty companion to spend the night with. Valentin didn't much know what he'd talk about with a pretty girl all night long-- maybe engines, if she knew something about then-- but he decided that there must be some trick to going to the bar that he hadn't figured out yet-- the Doc always had a pretty girl on his arm in the morning, but all Valentin ever had was a bad headache, nausea, and no recollection of how he got it. Yes, the bar was not for him. Engines didn't give him headaches, and at least he understood them. -- The bar was the place for a certain Doctor Janika Brekkur. Most of them had at least one or two women with a pretty face and a slender figure, and they also weren't usually the type to dig in their claws once you slept with them. At least, not deep enough that he couldn't coax them out. He couldn't always leave the ladies thinking well of him, but he did often enough that he hadn't developed any bad reputations. Though some jealous types would not believe it, there is never any money exchanged between Janika and his lady friends. Though he respects their profession, Janika has never hired a prostitute, nor engaged the services of a Companion. That is not to say he isn't intrigued by the idea of being with a Companion-- rather, he likes the thrill of the chase. Sure, Companions choose their clientele and not the other way around, but what relationship can you build by communicating with waves? "Hi, I'm rich and you should sleep with me because I'm rich and awesome. Did I mention I have money?" No, indeed, Janika preferred normal women, met in the normal fashion, and wooed with the normal tricks: a smooth tongue and good looks. And maybe a couple drinks. If Janika was going to be with a woman, he wanted to know that her companionship wasn't tied to the size of his wallet. He liked to think that his women cared about him at least some measure. If they ever actually voiced the "L" word, well, that was a bit too much, but an interesting surprise nevertheless. An unpleasant one, usually-- that type tended to be the type with long, sharp claws-- but interesting. At that particular moment, Janika was chatting up a young lady with a fair complexing, long, chestnut hair, and the prettiest green eyes Janika had seen it a good long while. She also had a pair of breasts that was even more beautiful to behold than the eyes, but Janika did his best not to take in those particular sights to exclusively. He was fairly well practiced, but that didn't mean a whole lot next to these babies. Janika made some vague, meaningless comment as the waitress dropped off another round of drinks, favoring her with a wink. She was number two on his list tonight. The girl in front of him-- named Katerina by her parents, called "Tits" by Janika in his head-- seemed to think the comment was funny and giggled just shy of "too much." It'll be a real shame if she turns out to be too stupid to sleep with, Janika lamented mentally, while keeping a perfect smile on his face. He'd vowed to himself some years back that, while he could tolerate a certain level of stupidity in a girl if she was pretty enough and willing enough, there was a line he would never cross. In the off chance that she got pregnant and decided to keep the baby, Janika wanted it to at least be a smart fatherless, illegitimate baby. He could never forgive himself for introducing more stupidity into the world, intentionally or otherwise. "So then I said to her, with a perfectly straight face, 'Oh no, it was [i]delicious[i]. You should be proud.' And she took me for being serious!" Janika said to more laughter. Well, she understood sarcasm, anyway-- that was a plus point. "I tell you, she was the only one there who thought it was edible." "Janya, you are too much!" Tits said, still giggling as she reached for her drink. That was another plus for her-- the accent. It had just a bit of Russian, and he even liked the diminutive she'd given his name. "I think I should not have been able to handle such situation so gracefully." "Nonsense, my dear," Janika said silkily, pulling out his "fall for me" look. He couldn't explain it to you if you asked, but when applied at just the right moment, it seemed to make the ladies swoon. It was one of his favorite tricks, right next to the "come hither" look. "Your grace is unchallengeable, truly. I feel like I should see rose petals strewn before you wherever you walk. It's remarkable." "Oh Janya, you will make me blush," she said playfully, subtly leaning closer. The doctor suppressed a grin-- she had taken the bait. "I should hope so," Janika replied mischievously. Not wanting to press too hard-- she was not an easy girl, at least, which was yet another plus-- he smoothly shifted the subjects. "But that's enough of my adventures, what about you? What gets you... excited?" OOC: Whose food was he referring to? What dangerous context was there? I wonder.... |
The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2010 10:55 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme The man in the corner was tall, maybe six feet, maybe a few inches more. He had longish brown hair and eyes so dark they were almost black. He was sturdily built, with a well-defined shape even despite the leather jacket, and he appeared to be well-armed; she’d already seen two pistols on his hip when he’d adjusted said jacket to sit down, and she had no doubt that there were at least three more hidden away. Probably a knife or two, as well. There was a look about him that was unsettling. He seemed to be alone—he’d taken one of the barstools at the far end, which suggested that he wasn’t waiting for someone with whom he’d be having any kind of private conversation. This was a good thing. It meant he was likely not a weapons dealer, or, if he was, that wasn’t why he was here. The man looked to be the type that was terribly dangerous when sober, and he’d already gotten more than a few drinks into him, which made him both dangerous and unpredictable.
Evie really, really wanted to jump him. She scribbled a few more notes down on the paper in front of her, took one more longing glance at the dark man in the corner, and got up from her barstool. She wasn’t drunk yet—she’d only had one or two so far—and her senses were sharp as ever as she caught sight of Janika chatting up some girl with a pair of massive boobs. Good lord, Janika. She'd seen him in action; he was smooth, she'd give him that, but she thought it likely that he spent more time than was strictly necessary making fun of his quarry and seeing whether she'd notice. Maybe not if she has boobs like that, though. She had a feeling even Janika would be willing to be nice when faced with such... incentives. Evie paused in her approach and took a glance down at her own chest, which boasted no blimps and only subtle signs that she was not, in fact, a really skinny boy. Still, she was aware of the way she looked in the fitted leather vest and she had no cause for complaint, really; her own figure, though perhaps not buxom, was by no means unattractive. And I bet she runs into things, she thought, her eyes narrowing. When she gets old they’ll be hanging down to her knees. Thus satisfied, she proceeded to tap Janika on the shoulder, meanwhile elbowing his newest interest out of the way. “Move it, airbags,” she said, grinning brightly. “He’s with me.” Not even glancing to see the girl’s reaction, Evie perched herself on the now-vacant seat and slid the paper she’d been holding in front of Janika. It was a set of descriptions, written out messily but quite thoroughly. They read: “Option A: at the end of the bar (Tall, Dark + Handsome AND Strong + Silent ALL AT ONCE). 6’2”, 185 lbs. Has had four drinks in the past half-hour. Working on a fifth. On his way to being very very drunk. But! Really really damn hot. Am willing to put up with drunkenness but do not want to babysit or hold his hair back for him all night. Still, gets points for being REALLY REALLY HOT. Also doesn't talk much. Which is PERFECT. BUT: Has not looked in my direction even once. Judgment may be impaired by alcohol. Option B: at big table w/friends (the blonde with the scar on right cheek). 6’4”, 190 lbs. Has had two drinks in the past twenty minutes. Less really really hot but have been watching since he got here and appears to have LOTS OF ENERGY. This is a GOOD THING. Also has been in lots of fights. See the scar? Points for the scar. There's another one on left hand and probably LOTS more to find. Has been looking at my ass since he got here, so an easy catch. Also shows good taste. Option C: at back corner table (dark hair, looks mean-ish). 5’8”, 150 lbs. Have not been counting drinks, but appears to be no more than buzzed. Very attractive, so points for that, but kind of short and doesn’t look very imaginative. Will settle for ONLY IF Option A passes out and Option B leaves with someone else.” She motioned impatiently for him to hurry up and read it. “I need know which one to sleep with given that I want to maximize the amount of getting laid that can happen before he passes out, and the amount of attractiveness on his part. Both very important things.” She resisted the urge to look and see where Airbags had gone. “As you well know.” |
spy_4_hire Joined: 14 Feb 2004 Posts: 568 | Posted: Tue Jan 12, 2010 3:05 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By spy_4_hire: This theme, Any theme Rokky sat at the bar next to Evie while she scribbled something onto the scrap of paper, gazing into the amber liquid in the tiny glass, trying to figure out why he even bothered to go to the bar with the Janika and Evie nowadays. It use to be fun. It use to be a lot of fun. He would drink a little, smile and laugh at Janika's stories, drink a bit more, snicker at Evie as she fretted over which guy to throw herself at that night, start a fight, buy a pretty gal a drink, and then have a grand old time before getting back to the ship the next morning. Now, something felt wanting. He still got drunk. He still got into plenty of fights. The girls were still plenty pretty. However the next morning, he simply felt... blah. With a shrug, he picked up his second shot of whiskey and drank it in one gulp.
This was all her fault. "Hey there, stranger," said the sweet little voice in his ear with a cute giggle and he felt someone nudge him in the side with her elbow. "Thinking deep thoughts?" "'Owdy" Rokky greeted and turned to see who interrupted his train of thought and blinked in surprise. She was a pretty young thing with long legs and a nice rack, thick, long fiery red hair and the biggest blue eyes he had seen in a good long while. He was a bit surprised that she had addressed him. "Well aren't y' prettier than a tall, cool glass of water in the middle o' the desert?" She laughed, blushed, and thanked him. He looked around the room quickly and spotted a group of young women staring at them intently, whispering to one another. They gasped and averted their eyes quickly, and focused on their drinks with giggles and more whispers. He raised an eyebrow and turned his attention back to the long-legged girl. She was easily the prettiest out of the group, he did not remeber them coming in, though, so they must have just arrived, they did not even have drinks yet, which made her approach that much more surprising. "I'm not takin' ya away from yer friends now, am I?" he asked with a crooked smiled tilting his head the the side. "Not at all," she shrugged with a grin. "After all, I came to you." "That ye' did," Rokky chuckled leaning against the bar. What on earth could she want? Was she going to ask him to join her friends at the table? He hoped she was not here to ask him to talk to one of her friends, especially the brunette, he had seen horses prettier than that unfortunate girl. "I've never seen you around before," she said with another shrug. Rokky had a feeling that this one shrugged a lot, or maybe she was a bit nervous. "I mean, I come here a lot so I know the regulars. Well, not a lot, a lot... and I don't know know the regulars, not in that... way... y'know? but y'know, I don't-" "Don't do this often, now, do ye?" smirked the first mate. Ok, definitely not here to rope him in for one of the other gals, otherwise she would be a bit bolder and tease a bit more, which meant she was here for him. However there was a danger of her inviting him over to join her friends, and he did not much like the that. He was not like Janika who could entertain a group of ladies with his plethora of stories. Besides, most of his stories were about fights and blood and gore, and other women that were better suited for a group of drunk men around a pool table. "Is it that obvious?" 'Legs' sighed and turned bright red and looked down. He looked down as well, her calves had a lovely curve to them right down to her ankles. "Look, my friends put me up to this... I can leave if you like. You just... looked alone. You are alone right? I mean, like, you're not here with someone or waiting...?" He glanced over his shoulder a bit as the Captain hopped down off the stool next to his to join Janika with that scrap of paper clung tightly into her hand. SHe must have narrowed it down to three then, and he bet he was not one of them. He never was. Not that he wanted to be. Ok, he did want to be on the stupid list of hers. Hell, he wanted to be the only one on the list, and he would bet his share of every job for the rest of his miserable life that he could mop the floor with every single low-life she just picked out. It made him so mad that he wanted to spit in the Captain's eye... He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Ok, he did not really want to spit in her eye. He would never do that to her. That'd be rude, and if that pretty eye of hers got an infection, he would feel mighty awful. "Nah, I'm on my own," he jerked his head toward the empty seat. He would still keep an eye on Evie, of course, just to make sure she stayed out of trouble while in the bar. "Why don't ye sit yerself down, and I'll buy ye a drink, Miss..?" "Oh, no 'Miss', please," she smiled winningly at him with a pleased blush, taking a seat and crossing her legs. "Just Jean Louise." |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Fri Jan 15, 2010 7:37 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme The doctor watched with resigned dejection as Tits retreated out of the bar, dragging her friend who had been waiting at the bar behind her. If she had decided to leave the bar entirely, then there was no help for it-- though Janika hated to admit it. Sure, he could check nearby bars to see if they'd looked for a less awkward place to continue drinking, but in his experience-- and, since he'd joined Evie's ship, he'd had more than he cared to admit-- such a pursuit was likely to be fruitless for some reason or another. Sure, there were some that he had managed to catch up with and reassure that the woman was just crazy and of no significance. But, the greater number had either gone too far to be found, or had refused to even speak with him. Yes, it was best to just move on.
The waitress was still quite pretty-- well within Janika's strike zone. Her chest was much more average than Tits' had been, possibly even on the smaller side of average, but that was perfectly fine by him. In fact, smaller was generally his preference-- just enough for a good handful was just perfect-- but he had to admit that he had been intrigued by Tits' particular brand of huge. Yes, he was a bit disappointed that she was gone, but it had been foolish to hope that Evie wouldn't ruin things for him. "I'm going to start charging, you know," Janika teased, snatching the paper roughly out of Evie's hand. "A commission for the private counseling, reimbursements for the drinks I wasted on the girl you scared away, and a retainer to pay for the drinks I have yet to buy." Scratching his chin, he returned the note and stole glances at the "options" Evie had described. Option A looked like a very dangerous fellow-- probably the reason he seemed to be so high on her list. He agreed with her assession of his size, but thought from the way the man was huddled over his drink that he hadn't looked at Evie was that his thoughts were elsewhere. Perhaps some job gone wrong, or woman troubles-- problems with a woman could easily lead a man to drink like that. He would probably be either really easy for Evie to "distract," or really difficult. Option B seemed to be playing some sort of card game with his friends, having a great, raucous time. He was drinking less than Option A, but, involved in a game as he was, Janika guessed he would be hard to pull away any time soon, and would have many more drinks before finishing. The doctor decided that the man's alcohol tolerance would also be higher than A's, but he could end up with more alcohol in him before Evie could pull him away. Janika's first impression of Option C was comical-- the man seemed to be playing at being a bodyguard or some sort of street tough, but he was rather physically unimpressive. Janika imagined a dwarf trying to wield a rocket launcher, and stifled a grin-- he was not a very smart dwarf, at that. He would probably trip over the weapon. With a sigh he drained the rest of his drink and turned to the captain. "Go for A," Janika suggested. "But go now and don't take your time. If he turns you down, move on to B. If he doesn't work out, you should sleep alone tonight, because I don't think I could look at you in the morning without laughing if you slept with C." Now, where did that waitress get off to? |
| The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Sat Jan 16, 2010 6:38 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme OOC:Sorry it's so long. Trying to avoid And-Then-They-Got-Stuck-in-the-Bar-Forever Syndrome.
Evie shrugged off Janika’s demand for reimbursement, knowing full well that he was only joking. “Bi zui,” she quipped, peering over his shoulder as he read. “She woulda been more trouble than she was worth, anyway. Those blimps mighta popped or somethin’, and then where would you be? ‘Sides, you like being my private counselor. Keeps me out of trouble. Said so yourself.” She quieted down, sipping at her drink while the doctor made his silent observations and finally gave her an answer. “Yeah,” she agreed, after his comment on Option C. “Almost married a guy like that once. I didn’t think the therapy would be worth it.” She grinned at him, pleased with his conclusion regarding her potential bedwarmers—she did love it when his professional opinion coincided with her own less objective one. And he had kept her out of a good deal of trouble, though she hated to admit it. “Thanks, Sunshine. See you in the morning.” She hopped down from her barstool and paused before leaving. “Might want to get a move on finding someone, though. Looks like Rokky’s got you beat.” She caught her first mate’s eye over the top of some girl’s head—she looked to be a slim, pretty thing with a good figure and beautiful hair—and gave him a wink and a thumbs-up. Good for you, Rokky. Okay, now onto Option A. Damn, was he hot. Janika was right; best to make this quick. Maybe she could get him out of there before he drank much more. She made a beeline for his table but was waylaid by a man who hadn’t made it onto her list at all. Not because he was unattractive, although to be honest he was lacking any striking qualities, other than being some sort of foreign. “Move it, Dusty,” she said, mentally noting that the quality of codenames seemed to be steadily declining. “We’ve finished our business.” It had, in fact, been the first thing she’d done after setting the ship down in this town—before the alcohol, and even before looking around to scope out a few possibilities. “Yeah,” he said, “but we need to discuss a slight alteration that I’ve only just been made aware of.” His voice was low, but not so low as to attract suspicion; he took her by the elbow and drew her toward the bar, just two acquaintances meeting up for a drink. “And it may not be wise for you to stick around here longer than you have to.” She rolled her eyes, and chanced a glance back toward Option A. He was looking at her. Hm. She turned back to Dusty. “Look, I’ve got places to be, people to do— you get the picture. How complicated can this job possibly be?” Other than the fact that he’d only given her the barest details, of course. She was supposed to be met by yet another contact before taking off. Someone was paranoid, she thought, if they had to place so many degrees of separation between themselves and those they hired. She had the distinct impression that each progressive contact had been a test, of sorts. Dusty took her hand, looking for all the world like some overly romantic suitor trying hard to make up for the previously noted lack of any striking good looks. She felt the corner of a small piece of paper, which he folded neatly into her palm, giving her a significant look. “Plan’s changed,” he said. “Boss likes you.” What the hell does that mean? If she was finally about to get some concrete instructions, well, she wasn’t going to complain. It would be nice to speak to someone other than the endless string of minions that she’d met up to now. The job was supposed to pay well, but she couldn’t help but lament the opportunity cost that came with spending so long chasing the damn thing down. “Great. Thanks. It’s been a blast.” Option A looked somewhat interested now. Interesting. The type that wanted what was unavailable? Possibly. That added a new challenge to picking him up—how to make herself unavailable while making it perfectly obvious that she was, in fact, available? Dusty seemed annoyed by her wandering attention and put a hand on her arm, drawing her focus back to him. “Read it. Don’t wait.” She pressed a hand to Dusty’s chest, pushing him off his stool and away from her in a gesture that was somewhere between flirtatious and firm. “Fine. Now go away.” Dusty did so, grumbling and watching her a little more closely than she was comfortable with. She made her way over to Option A’s table, deliberately pocketing Dusty’s note without reading it—teach him to interrupt me when I’m after someone this hot. “Mind if I sit?” she said, aware that A’s eyes had not left her since he’d first looked up. He gestured to the seat opposite him with a hand that was much steadier than she’d expected. “Be my guest,” he said, and his voice was enough to make Evie consider tackling him right here and now, public decency laws be damned. “If you’re sure your, ah, boyfriend isn’t gonna come beat me up.” He had a mild accent—German, if she wasn’t mistaken—and he sounded amused at the idea of Dusty managing such a feat. She laughed, a low, seductive sound, and fixed him with a brazenly even look that never failed to do the trick. “It’s not his call, now, is it?” Option A—she really ought to find out his name before morning, she thought—considered this for a moment, then threw back the rest of his drink and met her gaze head-on. “You want a drink?” he asked, his grin almost predatory. “Or do you want to get out of here?” Well, there was really no question there. She was acutely aware of his arm around her waist as they made their way outside. The air was cool, but not cold, and Option A was warm where she was pressed against his side. She could feel a gun holstered to his hip through his jacket; she made a note to make a lewd joke about that later. Oh, she did love men with a sense of humor. There was a noise behind her and she had time to realize that Dusty had followed them out before the noise of a gunshot broke the night air, followed immediately by a second, this one louder. The sound of drinking and cavorting within the bar died immediately. Dusty stood there with his gun pointed at her—no, she realized, at Option A. But Dusty was the one whose shirt was blooming red; a chest shot, she realized. One that would likely kill him; his eyes had that shocked, half-glazed-over look that meant there was really no chance. And his bullet had missed its target (or, Evie thought, through the haze of pain, its target had used her as a human shield.) Her own gun had come out the moment she’d heard the gunshots, but now Option A wrenched it from her grasp, giving her a look that held some small note of apology. “Sorry, lady.” He shrugged, and leveled his gun at her. “ Sie arbeiten mit dem Feind.” The bullet shot harmlessly into the air. Evie's knife was jammed into the underside of the man's wrist, pushing his aim up and away from her and allowing her to pry the gun from his fingers. "It's okay," she said, fixing him with a smile as she pointed his own gun at his head, silently praying that he'd kept it fully loaded. She couldn't think of a good reason not to. "I don't hold grudges for long." The fourth gunshot of the evening rang out, and Evie tossed the gun to the ground beside the dead Option A. Sie arbeiten mit dem Feind. You’re working with the enemy. Dammit, she thought, fishing Dusty’s note from her pocket while she struggled to remain upright. She’d known Dusty and the group she was working for now was some sort of mob. She supposed she really ought to have been more careful, but how the hell was she supposed to know that some crazy-ass German had a bone to pick with them? She unfolded the note, then pressed one hand into her side where the wound was bleeding freely. Evie—plan’s changed. The Boss will send you a wave as soon as you’re off-planet. Please be careful. This area is full of people who are now your enemies. Do not leave with anyone suspicious. Well, that was helpful. She looked down at the hand not clutching the note, which was now covered in blood. It hurt like hell. Janika was probably going to kill her. The Boss will send you a wave. She managed to get back into the bar through the crowd of people who’d gathered outside. “Janika,” she called, catching sight of him. “Find Rokky. We need to get off this planet now.” This job was quickly becoming more hassle than it was worth. She didn't even know yet what it was she was supposed to be stealing for this damned mob. All I know is it better be valuable. |
| spy_4_hire Joined: 14 Feb 2004 Posts: 568 | Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2010 9:14 am | Characters: All for this theme; By spy_4_hire: This theme, Any theme Rokky returned Evie's wink with a smile and returned as much attention as he could to Jean Louise, while Evie went over to the dangerous looking man that Rokky decided that he did not like one bit. Looks like the captain had made her choice. He should not care as much as he did, he knew that, but the guy gave him a bad feeling. He watched them get up and leave together, not realizing he was glaring, trying to burn a hole into the back of the other man's head as they walked out the door.
"Hellooo?" the red-head snapped her fingers in front of his face and brought Rokky back to reality. "Is any one home?" "Huh? Wha- Uh... oh! Yeah," Rokky laughed sheepishly, rubbed the bac of his neck and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, 'bout that. Just zoned out, I guess." "Um, are you sure ou're all right?" Jean Louise asked, leaning on the bar and raising an eyebrow. "You looked pretty angry..." "Naw, I'm fit as a fiddle," he assured her. "Sorry 'bout that. Noise and such got me bothered. Maybe we should find a quieter place?" "Mm," the young women smiled like a cat on cream and leaned forward a bit. "My place or yours?" "Yours, I reckon is a bit better," Rokky smiled and winked. They got up left the bar, had a good time together before dozing off. Well, that's what would have happened, until Rokky heard the gunshots. He counted two, as he helped her into her sweater, like his mama taught him. He did not like that they had happened as soon as Evie left the bar. He narrowed his eyes, and left without a word as the third shot rang out. The people were crowding by the front door so he took the back door outside as he heard the fourth shot. Jean Louise would turn around, discover him gone and feel insulted, but he could not have cared less at that point in time. Rokky took out his gun as he exited the bar, his heart was pounding, but Evie was not outside. He nudged the body of guy with his foot, turning him over. The nasty man was dead as a doornail with a lot of his face missing. Evie sure has a way with guys, he mused putting away his gun and disappearing into the alley again as people started coming out to see what the hullabaloo was about. He noticed Dusty dying not too far off, but he could not have cared less for him at the moment. His captain was missing, but he had to let Janika know where he was going before he went off looking for her. Rokky pushed his way through the bar to Janika's table, and sighed, and almost laughed, with relief as he saw Evie with Janika. She was standing on her own, that was a good sign. "I'm right here," He said, coimng up behind her. He did not realize her wound until he noticed that she was clutching her side. "D'ye get shot, ma'am?" he asked in a low voice easily looking down at her over her shoulder. His eyes widened and he hissed in her ear. "Ma'am, ye went an' got yerself shot! Daxiang baozhashi de laduzi! Janika, she got shot, we need to get back over yonder to the ship. We can get out the back way. Ain't so crowded." He picked her up and started going out the back way that would lead them out into the alley. |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Thu Jan 21, 2010 8:35 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme "I would never suggest such a thing with a classy woman such as yourself," Janika said defensively, with a touch of surprise and just a hint of indignation. It was a gamble-- some women, in his experience, actually wanted the man to be aggressive-- but the doctor's gut said that this woman wanted a man who respected her. When his gut was on his side, Janika was a gambling man. "I just thought you could use some time to relax, no expectations, no responsibilities... no pigs treating you like dirt." Janika offered the waitress-- Jennifer was her name, it turned out-- one of his winningest smiles. Not his best smile, of course; if his guess was right, he would need to reserve the big guns for use later-- that is, his best smile, and perhaps a bottle of wine.
"You're sweet," Jennifer replied, returning the doctor's smile hesitantly. "But, you think I'm secretly one of those pigs," Janika completed with a sigh. "Well, you wouldn't be the first-- I know very well how hard it is to believe there are any considerate people left in the 'verse." "Well, I'm not blind," the waitress retorted quickly, though the glow of her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. "I don't care to compete with wives and girlfriends." "Oh, you thought-- " Janika stammered, feigning surprise. Well, it wasn't entirely feigned-- he wouldn't have expected her to be totally ignorant of the attention he was showing Tits, and the... unique relationship he had with Evie; still, he hadn't expected her to analyze it so much. If he had watched the situation, he realized, he probably would have decided "girlfriend and wife" as well. A plus for the waitress. "No, no you've got it all wrong," he chuckled. "She just runs the ship I fly on" -- he indicated Evie sauntering up to the bar with a nod of his head-- "we're about as far from married as you could imagine. The other one, oh we go way back. I couldn't even imagine dating her." It wasn't exactly a lie-- he didn't much date anyone, much less an airhead like Tits. (He had to smile when he realized that only now, when the source of her nickname was no longer staring him in the face, could he admit to himself just how stupid she was. Ah, well....) "You see? Just a misunderstanding." The doctor flashed another smile, spreading his hands as though to show he had nothing to hide. The waitress relaxed visibly, but kept her eyes trained on Janika's, as though she could find something in them that would prove he was telling the truth. Or, maybe she was testing to see if he would look at her breasts. It was powerful tempting, Janika had to admit, but he was well practiced. "Well okay," she allowed at last, turning away to hide a smile that Janika managed to catch the beginnings of. "I get off in twenty, but like I said--" BANG BANG! Janika acted on instinct, grabbing the waitress and pulling her down and around the side of the bar with him, covering her head with his arms. The heck? Surely she doesn't think I need her help with this! BANG! "You alright, miss?" the doctor asked, pistol in hand, his thumb right on the hammer. Something told him that this was not simply Evie enacting Plan Sigma. BANG! "I'm fine," she replied bravely, though Janika noted that she made no move to leave the protecting of his arm. It was then that Evie strode in, looking ready to chew lead and spit out bullets. Janika gave her a very stubborn look-- a certain set to his jaw, and a scrunching of his face-- but only hesitated a second before helping the waitress to her feet and brushing off her shoulders. "Duty calls, Jen," the doctor said reluctantly. "If the wind goes just right, maybe I'll be back." With that, he turned back to the captain. "Good God damn, woman!" he hissed, following Rokky as close as he could manage without tripping. He holstered his gun and began to check the wound as well as he could with her in the first mate's arms. "I just fixed this! Look where I'm pointing. See it? Those are stitches that still haven't come out. What do you think you're doing, getting shot there again so soon? What happened to our brilliant plan of 'not getting shot'? It seemed pretty straightforward to me. It went: get a simple job, keep our heads low, don't get shot, finish the job." It took a significant amount of restraint to keep the rest of his remarks to frustrated mumbling as they made their way back to the Wessel. --- "Somet'n wrong for Cap'ns legs?" Valentin asked nobody in particular as the three made their way up the gangplank. He'd just finished putting the engine back together, and had been about to break out the big sponges to clean up the engine room when he heard them coming in. "They're gone, can't you see?" Doctor Sunshine replied testily. "She's caught Missing Legs Syndrome-- it's very rare. Get us prepped for launch!" "But-- but I c'n see'r legs just shiny. They ain't--" "Congratulations, you can see ghosts. Those are her ghost legs. Now, will you get ready? I'm busy." "Well I weren't never seen ghosts 'fore. Is you--" "Launching! NOW!" "Yessir!" OOC: Blah, sorry for taking so long. This has been sitting half done for days, but I only managed to finish it just now. I wasn't sure if we decided just to have Rokky fly it for now or what, so I just had Janika tell Valentin to prepare for takeoff instead of talking to any pilot |
| spy_4_hire Joined: 14 Feb 2004 Posts: 568 | Posted: Fri Jan 22, 2010 7:13 am | Characters: All for this theme; By spy_4_hire: This theme, Any theme OOC:I think we decided that Rokky and Evie would fly it for now, which is fine as long as both of them didn't get shot. We may want to get a actual pilot eventually, but this'll work for now. and I just realized that I don't really have anything to write... Ha. Oh wait:
Rokky rolled his eyes as Valentin eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and his jaw dropped open as the doctor diagnosed the captain with ghost legs. The kid had a way with gears and do-dads, but he did not have a lick of common sense. The first mate did not say anything to refute it, but plowed on up the stairs, going as fast as he could without jarring Evie too much. His first priority was to get the captain to the infirmary, and telling the mechanic that her legs were just shiny would only end up confusing the kid and they needed to get off the ground quickly. "Ya'sure no how to pick 'em, ma'am," he said in a low voice as he whisked her down the hall. "Sure hope you too had a good time before you blew his brains out all over the street. An' ye made such a lovely couple. Shame that didn't last." He hardly ever used sarcasm, except on special occasions, and he felt rather ticked off tonight. Sure, he did not really want to be with the cute little red-head, but it had been a while, and she seemed sweet. No, that was not why he was upset, his not being with Jean Louise was not Evie's fault, well, maybe a little. When the gunshots went off, he had been scared that something had gone horribly wrong, and he did not have a captain no more. He had also been jealous of the guy she left with before she shot him in the face. Of course, being the big, tough, he-man he was, he could not actually talk about his feelings, especially to the doctor, that would only be begging for ridicule. "But seriously, ma'am," he switched to scolding mode as he placed her on the padded bed in the infirmary. "Why do ye hafta pick the ones that look like they eat babies an' kick puppies. Ther bad men. Can't ye one day pick a scrawny guy with thick glasses just once?" His work was done, and he knew he was about as useful as a bump on a log now. Without a word, he reluctantly left the two of them and headed over to the cockpit to fly The Wessel off the stupid planet. He swore a little as he looked down at his favorite shirt that now had a big red, wet stain. He tore it off and tossed it into his bunk as he walked by it. He would get another one later. OOC:Yeah... he's gonna fly shirtless... cuz I want him too. Bwa ha ha. |
| The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Sun Jan 24, 2010 1:44 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme Evie struggled at first, insisting that she was more than capable of walking on her own two feet; she soon gave up, however. The indignity stung her pride a bit, but her pride had proven to be resilient more than once, and it wasn't like this was the first time she'd had to be carried away from the scene of a gunfight. She waved Janika off as he fussed over her. "But look, this new one's a little more over here," she said, trying to point out the difference in location while being carried like a sack of potatoes (though, in Rokky's defense, he was always more careful with her than he probably would have been with potatoes.) "Don't worry so much, Sunshine. Your old stitches are still pretty."
She was deposited in the infirmary while Janika shouted at the engineer. He really ought to be nicer to poor Valentin, she thought, but to tell Janika that would have been a waste of breath. Besides, Rokky was lecturing her. She should probably pay attention. "I don't like scrawny men with thick glasses," she replied seriously. "I married one of 'em once. Now, he actually kicked babies and ate puppies, but it was still bad. I tell you, breakfast was always a little awkward." She winced as she was set down on the bed, though Rokky really had been as gentle with her as he possibly could have. It was these damn gunshot wounds. Terrible location for one, really. Made absolutely everything painful. "Besides, he was big and he had an accent. You know how much I like big guys with accents." She grinned as he left the infirmary, looking as though he'd rather stay. Poor Rokky, always so worried about his fellow shipmates. Well, it was just as well that he was gone now. He probably would've thrown a fit if she'd done this in front of him... She stood up, hiding her grimace as well as she could, and brushed past the doctor and out of the infirmary. She had a wave to catch. She thought for a moment about using the one in her room, but the idea of navigating that ladder in her current position made her wince again. There was a screen in the cockpit, which involved climbing stairs and walking a lot, or just outside the engine room, which involved less walking but just as many stairs. There really ought to have been one in the common area. In fact, she couldn't think of any good reason why there wasn't.* She began her climb up the stairs, aware that Janika would likely try to stop her, but this was important, and he was a worrywart. Besides, she was still a little high on adrenaline, and she supposed she might as well use that rush while it was available to her (and without the use of needles.) "Hey, Valentin," she called, waving cheerily with the hand that was not attempting to stem the flow of blood from her side. "Doc fixed my legs. Man's a gorram genius. We break atmo yet?" She was answered by the beeping noise on the screen indicating an incoming wave. "Guess that's a yes," she said, tapping the screen to take the call. "Hey there, Boss. Dusty's dead." She glanced over at Valentin, then waved him away, wordlessly telling him to go back to whatever he'd been doing before. She didn't want anyone fussing or asking whether she was okay while this guy was onscreen. The less he knew about her getting shot, the better. If, after all that trouble, he called everything off based on the fact that he felt she was unable to fulfill her end of the bargain, well... she was already upset enough as it was. "You heard that? Dusty got shot by some crazy German." There was a pause on the other end-- the man was also some sort of foreign, and when he spoke his accent was the same as his dead employee's. Something Eastern European, she thought, but it was hard to identify. "You are having problems with the locals?" "Something like that," she said, waving off the details. "Listen, if you're about to point me to another higher-up, you can damn well forget it. This deal was supposed to be simple. There was supposed to be not-getting-shot happening. Now Dusty's dead, and I'm pissed." "I am not sending you to a... higher-up," said the Boss, looking as though he was choosing his words very carefully. "I am sending you to another mob." "What the hell." "That is the job. There will be a wedding, and I am sending you and your crew. We have put you on the guest list. We need you to steal a cake." --- It was a good seven-and-a-half minutes before Evie managed to get all the details she felt she was entitled to, even working as quickly as she could; she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that all this trouble, all of it, was about a cake. She supposed it could have been about starting a war, if she'd felt inclined to think of it that way, but really it was about stealing a cake. It was kind of hilarious, actually. She tapped the screen to turn it off. She hadn't been paying much attention to Janika, though he seemed to have had the good sense to at least stay off-screen. He was probably going to ambush her with a shot of some sort any moment now. That was funny too. Her legs wobbled beneath her, so she let them buckle and slid down the wall into the bloody mess that had been pooling at her feet, cackling like a loon. I'm going into shock, she thought, taking note of the fact that her hands were shaking, and that was funny too. "Hey, Valentin!" Another giggle. "We're stealing a wedding cake!" OOC:*Yes, I made these up. Other than the cockpit, I have no idea where there ought to be screens. |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Mon Jan 25, 2010 12:03 am | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme OOC: Dang. Playing a doctor is a pain. I did some brief research (Yay wikipedia) so I think this is not "wrong," but oh well if it is. It's a good thing I like Janika, or I'd hate to RP him
Janika silently listened to the banter between the captain and her first mate, if not exactly patiently. He was getting her into the infirmary, which was the main point. In fact, he wouldn't have been against sharing a few carefully chosen words himself-- in addition to those he'd already shared, of course. However, he was already busy planning out his course of action. Evie, being Evie, would manage to get off the bed and out of the infirmary even if Rokky tied her down with steel chains. She wouldn't have been so eager to get off planet without a bunk-mate if there wasn't a particular reason, and she would refuse to sit still until she'd taken care of it. And, unfortunately, she usually did need to take care of whatever it was. So, he would need to be ready with a general anesthetic to help her cooperate as soon as she finished her business, a procoagulant to stop the bleeding and help stabilize, the scanner to check for internal injuries, the forceps to remove the bullet.... It really wasn't as complicated as it might sound, and Janika was not particularly worried. He probably could have managed it blind folded-- well, if Evie wasn't going to be running around-- but he was in the habit of working through any and every procedure thoroughly before beginning it, making sure everything was exactly right. While Rokky was fussing over Evie at her bedside, the doctor made a show of doing preliminary examination work for a few moments so the boy wouldn't get upset, but then whisked off to prepare everything he would need. He even pretended not to notice when Evie slipped out, calmly grabbing his nice, white jacket from the hook on the wall pocketing the injector he'd prepared with the sedative and the procoagulant, As he'd expected, the captain made her way straight for a screen, and began speaking with some rather shady-looking fellow with a thick accent. Why did all of their jobs seem to come from shady-looking folks? The thought crossed Janika's mind that he was in with the wrong crowd for about the hundredth time that month, but he brushed it aside as he always did. Sure, he could go back to wherever it was he'd been assigned. He could have a nice apartment and a cute secretary that liked him, but who had so far not discussed problem topics like "marriage" or "Nurse Joy from the third floor." Or "Michelle from the morgue." Or... well any number of things. The point was, he could be living a life that was much "better" than this one. But, it was not real. At that distant outpost, he didn't really have more patients than he did on the Wessel-- a somewhat upsetting statistic, but there it was. Here, though, the patients he was saving meant something. From a professional perspective, that was probably a bad thing. Nevertheless, Janika couldn't help feeling that is work on the Wessel was much more fulfilling than his work on Beaumonde. Janika heaved a sigh. Fulfilling or not, there were still far too many times like these: standing just out of sight of the screen, waiting for the captain to finish her call or to collapse-- whichever happened to come first. She'd done a fine job of not collapsing in the middle of important waves so far, but Janika was not about to discount the possibility. When Evie finally finished her call and slid to the floor, Janika swooped in, pressing the injector to her forearm, pocketing it, and scooping the woman into his arms in a practiced maneuver. Valentin looked like he was about to say something-- maybe asking if they were really stealing a wedding cake; the poor boy believed anything he heard! Janika would feel bad for him it it weren't so funny-- but the doctor ignored him, moving swiftly back to the infirmary. A short time later, Janika had saved his captain's life once again-- it shouldn't have been that dramatic; the wound was barely a scratch compared to some others she'd received, and there was otherwise no internal injury, but Janika swore that he wasn't exaggerating-- and was just waiting for her to come out of the anesthetic. OOC: Thank God for spellcheck. I almost wrote "infirmatory." What is that? |
| The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Mon Jan 25, 2010 1:22 am | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme OOC:Seriously. Spell Check is like the God of today’s world. It’s saved me from some awkward emails, that’s for sure. Like I have a tendency to spell “sandwich” as “blender.” As in, “I want a turkey and cheese blender.” And then the next thing you know, someone’s actually giving you a turkey and cheese blender, and you’re like what the crap. How did you even do that?
Except Spell Check doesn’t help with that. Screw you, Spell Check. (I almost spelled it “Speel Check.” Spell Check saved me. Irony, anyone?) PS. Infirmatory should totally be a word. The first time Evie came up from one of Janika’s drug-induced comas, she was a little surprised at the sensation. She’d expected—something. Like coming up from underwater, or like waking from some nightmare. Some sense of urgency, or of relief, maybe. Something like being shaken awake. By now she had been through this so many times that it was practically routine. Whatever drugs Janika favored, they left her with a peaceful, comfortable feeling upon waking, which no longer surprised her. Waking up in the infirmary with no recollection of going to the infirmary no longer surprised her, either. “Damn, Sunshine,” she said, her tone far less grumbly than she would have liked—she was still a little too doped-up to grumble properly—“if you wanted me in bed, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” She tried to sit up, then winced as the pain shot through the haze of drugs like an arrow. “Ow.” She paused, then gingerly pushed herself up the rest of the way. “That hurts. What the hell kind of quack are you?” There would be nausea, once the euphoria died down a little, but it was never too bad, and it was really nothing compared to the maddening itch that she knew was coming. Healing wounds were nothing if not frustrating. There was pain, yes, but that went away quickly and she could almost always say she’d had worse. On the other hand, that itch… and if she pulled any stitches by accident, Janika would have her hide. Evie heaved a heavy sigh and slumped back against the wall, swinging her feet over to dangle off the edge of the bed. The first time she’d woken up from a life-saving rescue by Janika-- one that had involved general anesthesia, anyway-- once she’d gotten over the surprise at her own eerie calm, it had taken her nearly an hour to get to a point where she could walk on her own without wobbling like a newborn colt on unsteady legs. These days, it was a matter of minutes. Practice makes perfect, she thought, with a wry grin. “So, Janika, now that I am risen from the dead, worship me and tell me something. How would you feel about crashing a wedding?” OOC:PPS. I am tired. :D |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Sun Jan 31, 2010 2:02 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme OOC: Isn't a blender actually another name for a sub sandwich? Or is it something vaguely-not-even-similar sounding, and I just look like an idiot?
Janika spent the time waiting for Evie to regain consciousness meticulously cleaning his surgeon's tools and straightening up the infirmary. Though he was not obsessive about cleaning like little Valentin seemed to be, he did like to keep his infirmary in order, his tools each where he could find them immediately and each ready to be used at a moment's notice. He was just putting the finishing touches on a scalpel when Evie began to stir. "For you, it's always worth the extra effort," he said with a grin, ignoring her jab at his medical skills. He'd learned not to take offense at them a very long time ago. He'd also learned not to put much effort into keeping her from moving around-- trying to stop her did no more good than letting her do what she wanted, and was much more troublesome besides. Instead, he simply walked up to her and took her pulse, measuring against his wristwatch. Sure, the machine above her head reported all the vital information Janika could ever need, but he had always been a big advocate for regularly checking those things yourself. "Oh, your worshipfulness, it would be an honor to crash your wedding. Now, how about explaining what this job was that you nearly died to procure?" He waited a beat, then looked up into her face and frowned. "Wait, you're serious?" He hesitated only a second before calling Rokky down from the bridge, not quite keeping a sense of urgency from his voice. Either she'd finally lost it, or he had, but either way Janika wanted some kind of moral support. OOC: I... have no idea |
| The Ace of Spades Joined: 7 May 2006 Posts: 398 | Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2010 4:58 pm | Characters: All for this theme; By The Ace of Spades: This theme, Any theme OOC:Is it? I have no idea. That would explain a lot, though.
OOC:Also, I'm gonna go ahead and post even though it's technically not my turn... trying to figure out some way to get all the characters back in one place again. Let's see if I can remember all the different factions we had involved in this? If not, I'll just let Evie's natural vagueness bail me out...
Evie let out a loud, unladylike snort, pausing in the middle of testing out her legs (raising first one, then the other, and they really did seem strong enough to support her now that the odd numb feeling was beginning to dissipate). "If you wanted to crash my wedding, you're a little late," she said. "Missed all five. Maybe if you're nice, I'll invite you to the next one." She paused. "Whenever that happens to be." Of course she was joking; she fully planned on staying married to the prickly and ever-so-disagreeable Lord Chantaclaire; first, because she liked the title, and second, because he wanted nothing more than to be rid of her, and if staying married to him was the only way to be a thorn in his side, then so be it. She pushed herself off the bed, wobbled momentarily, then grinned brightly as she regained her balance and stood triumphantly steady. Her grin faded as she watched him over to the intercom to call Rokky down to the infirmary. "Oh, don't do that," she said, a frown creasing her forehead. Rokky tended to be a little on the jumpy side when Evie was in the infirmary-- when any of his friends were, probably, except that it was usually her-- and besides, he was flying the ship. No sense making him panic. She brushed past Janika and pressed the button again. "Nevermind that, Rokky, we'll come see you. The good doctor is just being his usual overdramatic self. I've been telling him to lay off those soap operas, but you know how he loves his stories. Be up in a second." She turned without bothering to see whether Janika was following. She just assumed that he was; he usually did. When she wanted him to, anyway, but now was not the time to ponder his strange ability to more or less read her mind. She supposed some things were unavoidable when one spent so long looking after another person. By the time she reached the stairs, she was able to navigate them with nary a wobble. "We're crashing a mob wedding. Big huge ceremony, with the formal gowns and the stuffy people who talk in funny accents." She chanced a scratch at her side, which was by this point itching terribly, hoping that Janika wouldn't notice. "Likely to be lots of pretty girls there, Sunshine, so you'll have plenty to keep yourself entertained while we steal--" she stepped into the cockpit, catching sight of Rokky as she completed her thought-- "the cake." |
| Digithe Joined: 24 Aug 2003 Posts: 884 | Posted: Tue Mar 02, 2010 3:30 am | Characters: All for this theme; By Digithe: This theme, Any theme OOC: I'm posting out of turn, but I don't want this to die, and it's been a while
Janika did, in fact, follow the captain up the stairs, just as she expected him to. He was not aware of how in-sync they'd grown over the years, and simply took it for granted that she sometimes knew exactly what he was thinking from, or that he could often figure out what she wanted when everyone else was looking at her like she was an alien. That said, there were many times when he gave her that look himself. Actually, there were days when he felt that he gave her that look more often than a "normal" one. However, there was one thing that she never seemed to understand: how much he wished she would take better care of herself. Or, if she understood it, she very frustratingly chose, every single time, to ignore it. On some level, Janika admired her selflessness, of course. Actually, no. Her selflessness bewildered him, and was another cause of the "you're an alien" look. Still, she took care of her crew and her ship, and he had to admit that she even did a tolerably good job of it. In this aspect, she had not changed since their days in the war-- days which, by either of their accounts, never happened, of course. Evie was always driven, and once she'd picked up a task, you could be sure she'd see it through or die trying. The first part, Janika admired-- the second, not so much. As a doctor, he was the one who had to clean up her messes-- which were often bullet shaped, covered in blood, and all over her person. Her disregard for her own wellbeing frustrated him. But, though he would never admit it, Janika had taken a liking to the quirky woman, seeing her as an annoying but endearing little sister. And Janika had always been a protective older brother. As he climbed the stairs behind Evie, Janika kept back far enough that he couldn't be accused of trying to support her, but his sharp eyes never left her, watching for any hint that she might lose her balance and topple over. His attentions proved unnecessary, as she mounted the top stair without any apparent problem, but he just took it as a job well done, and not as a waste of time. "The cake?" he asked, incredulous. "They actually want us to steal the cake from a wedding? Of mobsters? And you accepted? I can't tell which part is the most ridiculous. I appreciate the offer of pretty girls, but I think they might notice if the cake is gone-- it's sort of important. And, in my experience, gangsters are the type to shoot first and shoot again later. If they catch us with their cake, there will be no questions asked." |
| spy_4_hire Joined: 14 Feb 2004 Posts: 568 | Posted: Sun Mar 14, 2010 9:25 am | Characters: All for this theme; By spy_4_hire: This theme, Any theme After many muttered curses and a sharp punch at the dashboard, Rokky finished putting the ship in auto pilot, which was quite tricky since he was not the greatest pilot in the universe and The Wessel was an old crappy pile of space junk that seemed to enjoy making his job more painful then it had to be. He stood to go to the infirmary to see what Janika called him down for when Evie told him to stay put. He rolled his eyes, and sat back down. If it had been the doctor, he would have said something snide, but since it was Evie, he pressed the button and instead, gave a polite "Yes, me'am."
He sat back in his chair with a long sigh, his hair falling into his eyes a bit as he stared out into the vast void of space the stretch out before him. He was still shirtless. His torso was riddled with scars of every shape and size, and a few tattoos splayed across his chest, back and wound around his arms. He felt irritated and anxious, as he usually did after the captain was wounded. It was actually a pretty common occurrence, but it still irked him. However, he could only admire her courage and loyalty to her crew. There were few men he could name that would take a bullet before putting another member of his team in harm's way. Rokky rubbed his eyes and brushed his hair out of his face with a quick sweep of a calloused hand. He could hear her talking to the doctor as she made her way to the stairs. He turned the seat around and a concerned frowned creased his forehead as he stood with a respectful nod. He glanced at Janika as he followed her in, wandering if he really thought Evie should be up and about. He could tell he did not, but she was the captain, and usually did just as she pleased. He did his best t get rid of the frown, though his expression was still quite stern. He hoped she would at least sit down now that she was up here. "A mobster's weddin' cake," he said slowly, raising an eye brow and crossing his arms. "Sounds like a grand day out. Do we get to eat it?" |
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