Lt. Toxin Arlill - Now we’re getting som…. great who’s this!?
Toxin Arlill
((A Bar with a name they are yet to understand, Port City of I’shal, I-Kiyo Dyson Ring ))
T’larn: Is that a compliment counsellor?
Henri: oO Counselor, he might be able to sense me, but I’m not sure T’larn will understand. Oo
Arlill: Agreed (beat) let’s keep talking, I think his UT is close and T’larn, you’re definitely onto someth… ::shaking his head::
Stendhal: Yeah good job T'larn you're deffo a really good languagisty. Heel or not heeled! (Drinking) Maybe I should stop to drink this stuff. (Beat) Are you ok Tox? Did you see the doctor about that? Anyway I much prefer a Spritz to drink!
T’larn: Are you well Lieutenant?
Arlill: I’m fine, let see what we can order for food, I’m starving.
Suddenly, a new creature lumbered into view. This alien perhaps resembled an oversized snail wearing trousers. It approached their table, clutching a bottle. With a surprising amount of dexterity, the creature produced a set of ornate glasses and then poured a concoction. The alien's face - if one could call it that - contorted into what T'larn assumed was a smile. It gurgled something unintelligible.
Rutto: Bevas Bevias maialones de spaccio tuttos buonos fuuocos di cippa!
T’larn: I am finding this most engaging, I do adore new tastes, I’m sure that big guy in ops who loves cooking would love it down here. What’s his name again? Brandon?
Arlill: Something like that ::smirking:: What (beat) can ::signaling his friends:: we do to help ::pointing towards St’Amin:: you?
Es’th’o was visibly annoyed that Rutto had barged into their conversation uninvited. He wasn’t even sure why the ground sucker had joined them.
St'Amin : 'Yi 'Yi'n 'Yi'z U'd'e'i't'h W'a'n't ((ooc: I’m who you want to deal with))
Rutto, pushed St;Amin aside. St’Amin was annoyed to say the least.
Rutto: (gargoling) Rissa Adesso! Uah uah uah!
T’larn: It would appear that our host has competition. How thrilling!
Henri: oO Oh good, I wonder if this new Rutto is another Lhandon? Seems awfully pushy. Oo
Toxin had gotten quite well at ignore Henri, but even this statement made him scoff a little.
Arlill: Just when we were beginning to get to know you ::pointing at St’Amin::
St'Amin: 'Yi'z N'o'th H'a'v W'a'n't, 'Yi H'a'v N'e'd ((ooc: he has nothing you want, I have what you need.))
Stendhal: I have a feeling he's going to beat him up.
T’larn: One does not have to be a psychologist to see that, I suggest we take a moment to plan our exit
Henri: oO I’m inclined to agree with the pointed one. Oo
Henri had become... well, what had he become? He'd transformed into something, but the exact nature of that transformation remained a question. What wasn't in question was how quickly this change had occurred. Henri still had much to learn, and his ability—or perhaps struggle—to accept other species particularly stood out to Toxin.
Arlill: ::holding up his hands:: Gentleman, gentleman.
Toxin hoped he wasn't misgendering them, as that certainly wouldn't help their current predicament. He poured an extra glass of the brown gravy which they considered a drink and handed it to their newest guest.
Es’th’o sighed loudly and looked over at his opposition.
St'Amin: 'Yi S'u'r’i’t ((ooc: I suppose))
T’larn: Or we can do that. It’s equally as valid.
With that, Toxin raised his glass towards the snail-like being called Rutto and then drank its contents in their entirety.
Not since becoming aware had Henri felt the affects of so many drinks. What was interesting was the more that Toxin drank, the more control he seemed to retain over his host’s functions.
Henri: oO Take it easy there big boy. Oo
Henri didn’t really wish for him to “take it easy” but he needed to seem to care at the very least.
T’Larn/Stendhal : Response.
T’larn: Please we are all friends here after all we would love to be both of your guests.
That seemed to work, both beings stopped and stared at their Vulcan compadre as she sat back down.
Henri: oO Memo to self, and I supposed you, you big oaf, do not get on her bad side. Oo
Arlill: Thank you T’larn
Es’th’o understood most of what the pointy alien said and even if he hadn’t, her body language was multilingual!
St’Amin: ::looking at his tablet and punching a few buttons:: H’o’w d’u q’o’i he’l’p y’ou?
Arlill: We are looking to open trade routes and supply lines for our (beat)
This was a tricky one for Toxin, if he called it a “floatilla” they might get fearful of an invasion, but how else would you explain the sudden presence of these aliens in their quadrant.
Arlill: Our visiting fleet?
T’Larn/Stendhal/Rutto: Response
The translator was working, at least at 85% confidence, so Es’th’o was happy to use it now that they seemed to have some dialogue.
St'Amin: M'y c'o'n's'o'r't'i'u'm o'f'f'e'r's l'o'g'i's't'i'c's f'o'r o'u't's'i'd'e'r's a't a s'm'a'l'l f'e'e.
Henri: oO Great, so more Ferengi to deal with. Oo
Rutto: Response.
St’Amin: St'Amin: S't'o'p 'i't, y'o'u h'a'v's's's's 't'h'e s'a'm'e f'e'e's, y'o'u j'u's't c'a'l'l 'i't s'o'm'e't'h'i'n'g e'l's'e.
T’Larn/Stendhal/Rutto: Response
Tags/TBC
Lieutenant Toxin Arlill
Chief of Operations
USS Octavia E Buttler NCC-82850
Writer ID.: O239910TA4LT