((Raft-ONE - Leisure Level; "Smiley's" Bar))
Wilde: ::Coughing.:: If I had a slip of latinum for every time I crashed through the roof of a bar...
S'milus: If I thought you did, I'd ask for one for the damages.
The Caitian woman stood with her hands on her hips. Regan spat out some dust and bits of grit from his mouth, and wondered how many bruises he'd get from falling through the shoddy roof of some bar.
S'milus: Exactly how many times does this happen?
Wilde: This makes three, actually. ::Beat.:: I'm sorry about the damage. Bill me. I'll even throw in a few new holosuites...
S'milus: I could use a few more holo-programs.
Regan made his way over to her. So far his body seemed to be holding up. Whether it was by pure adrenaline or not, he didn't know. His green eyes scanned the room quickly. He still had lots of work to do. The last thing he needed was station security or a bunch of angry Orions breaking down the door.
Wilde: Is there a back way out of here?
The Caitian grinned. After all the colourful characters he'd met so far on Raft-ONE, he hoped this one could be trusted. He was running out of credible places to hide weapons for his protection.
S'milus: Cassé Mesa, you are late, I almost re-scheduled your secure conference room.
She winked at the man. Regan quickly exhaled a relieved sigh of breath.
S'milus: Follow me, quickly.
She led him to a secret passageway toward the back of the bar, and after a very fast sleight of hand, the mischievous pair were in a darkened tunnel somewhere in the back of the leisure level.
S'milus: So Cassé ::she winked:: I think I'd like to know your real name, if I am going to bill you for the damages and this secure conference room?
Wilde: Regan Wilde.
S'milus: My name is Xena, and I assure you the conference room is secure, they can't even scan the occupants.
In a flash she hopped upon the conference room table and held his gaze. She was clearly judging him up, assessing whether he was a threat. She'd stuck her neck out helping him, and Regan didn't blame her. She probably had to be tough to survive in a place like this.
S'milus: Mind explaining your entrance and why the back-way request?
Wilde: Let's just say I've not been playing nice with some Orion thugs, and now Priscilla Queen of the Station might be sending her goons after me. You'll understand that I like to keep this face as intact as possible.
He flashed her a grin. His face was his calling card. He couldn't go around the galaxy declaring himself as the Pretty Boy Privateer with black eyes and missing teeth, could he?
Wilde: So I need to move quickly and discreetly. Can you help me?
S'milus: Oh, the controls over there activate a one-way transporter to a destination of your choice, assuming the range is reasonable, and I unlock it.
Wilde: Anywhere I need to go?
He stepped toward the conference table. cautiously and ran a hand over its surface. Surely it was a magic getaway, a gateway to somewhere secret and safe on this station.
Wilde: And how much will it cost me?
He eyed her cautiously. The damages to the bar he'd pay for in good faith. He'd caused the damage, but a gesture this generous often required payment of a different currency.
Wilde: I'm sure we can work something out! I have a ship, a good group of friends. We could use a Caitian of your talents.
He grinned. Their little troupe seemed to be expanding all the time. The more the merrier, he always thought.