[JP] Marshall & Sienelis - Start as You Mean to Go On (Part III)
Jo Marshall
(( Dungeon Rock, Hai Tac Outpost ))
::No singular establishment that housed the particular clientele of an abandoned outpost in disrepair would be full of the light of life, and in keeping with that tradition, the Dungeon Rock was dark, dismal, but bouncing with music. A nostalgic sound of big band instruments, smokey atmospheres, and the delicate noises of someone's head being rhymically pounded off a far table greeted the three as they entered, the heavy door slamming shut behind them.
::The Iotian didn't bat an eyelid, and instead clapped his hands together, rubbing them against one another as though the outside artificial air had a cold chill to it. His shadowy eyes flit around at the various patrons, then indicated with a tilt of his chin to the spoons, he pushed through the drinkers and ignorant regulars, dragging out a chair at the far end of the table.
::A single occupant sat behind it.::
Zuccaro: I forgot how you like your tea. One lump or two?
::The woman rubbed the bridge of her very Bajoran nose, then swept her hand across the subdued ridges of a Cardassian forehead.::
Josett: Ollie... ::She sighed through an amused smile.:: At least you are reliable in how unreliable you are.
::Golden-brown curls tumbled over her shoulders as she leaned forward, elbows on the table, her dark eyes travelling in a loose rectangle. Up along the length of Bear's body, then across and down Valesha's figure. She sighed again, this time in appreciation.::
Josett: You didn't tell me they were this cute. ::She grinned.:: Which one's the big spoon?
::Shrugging his shoulders, the Iotian waved his hand around in midair, before stealing a handful of whatever small nut shaped objects were in a small bowl on the table, munching through as he spoke.::
Zuccaro: The weeds are getting long in my garden, laundry has two loads today… It's hard to keep track. ::He chewed around a particularly stuck nut and grinned.:: And I reckon it's the Romulan.
::Incredulity crossed the taller man's face beneath the blond beard, accompanied by a crossing of arms in indignant response. Ollie offered him a sideways glance, grin growing wider.::
Zuccaro: It's definitely the Romulan. ::Tongue in his cheek, this time he picked up the bowl and dumped the contents into his pocket.:: She bites. It's entertaining.
Sienelis: Yes, she does. ::She scowled, the expression becoming so common it felt like there was a real risk it would permanently etch itself onto her face.:: Who are you?
Josett: I'm your ticket to your final destination. But you can call me Lena. ::She thumbed toward the bar.:: Everything they serve here is terrible. So, ::her grin sparked once again,:: drinks?
Zuccaro: I'd love nothing more. ::His silken voice dripped with infuriating cheer, and wouldn't have sounded out of place around a cigar.:: About the only thing that's any good is nothing mixed. I'll see what's on tap and you make yourselves comfortable.
::A brief but certain smile passed from the dark-haired Iotian to Bear and Valesha, though rather than fill the blond with confidence, it left in its wake a feeling that he was overdue for a crucifixion, from one organisation or another. Eyes twinkling, projecting the kind of mien that could've filled the Dungeon Rock on it's own, Ollie disappeared to the bar.
::Bear, however, returned his gaze to the intriguing amber eyes beneath dark curls sitting partially obscured in the natural shadows the corner offered. She didn't look familiar, not in the least, especially with the clear mixture of heritage she had blended together. The combination of the woman's parentage had managed to make ridiculously alluring features, though Bear didn't imagine it had done anything at all for her upbringing. Pulling out a chair for Valesha, earning himself a bemused look from the Romulan in the process, he dropped himself into another.::
O. Marshall: What's the cost for this ticket, then? I'm partial to both of my kidneys.
::Lena hooked an arm over the back of her chair, flicking her wrist up as she answered.::
Josett: Let's just say I owe a favour and someone called it in.
::The action, and the accompanying words, prompted Bear to lean his arm on the edge of the table. His faith in anyone without a Starfleet uniform, and some of those in one, had taken a battering as of late.::
O. Marshall: That's some favour. ::He combed his fingers through his beard.:: How do we know we can trust you?
::She smiled at him, amusement glittering in her eyes, and shrugged. A small sound of discontent and dismay scraped out of Valesha's throat and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.::
Sienelis: This just gets better and better.
::In contrast, Bear smiled - not as far as mirth, but cresting levity at least. A sense of adventure was bubbling up in his gut, even if there was the vaguest hint that everything could go drastically wrong at any given moment. He glanced to Valesha and arched an eyebrow.::
O. Marshall: We could leave immediately and head out into space in the Unicorn, see how far we get before FedSec picks us up. Which would be quickly. Which wouldn't be good. ::He gripped the corner of his lip in his teeth, grin brimming anew as he looked back at Lena.:: Other options are lacking somewhat in their number.
::The Romulan pulled a face, elbow on the table, showing her palm in the universal gesture of despairing resignation. Lena, on the other hand, chuckled and grinned right back at Bear. It seemed she was as tickled by the burgeoning adventure as he was, and didn't mind who knew.::
Sienelis: Yes, I know. ::She shot him a sour, sidelong look.:: I reserve my right to complain about it.
O. Marshall: Complain all you like. We're still going.
TBC...
--
Orson Marshall
Fugitive
G239304JM0
&
Fugitive
T238401QR0
&
Oliver Zucarro
Former Barmen of the Songbird Lounge
&
Lena Josett
Scallywag
Orion Syndicate