Post by Olan Sinclair on Aug 20, 2013 11:54:56 GMT -5
Prodigal Aviator - Rem - played Thawnolan
A Vestige Within- Jules- played Cross
Castian Grey - Ronnie - played Stryker
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Random crossing at DUCKYs
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A Vestige Within: While the pounding music of Ducky's wasn't exactly his forte', Jai had somehow ended up within the confines of this bar which happened to be packed tonight with the usual denizens. You'd better believe he was seated as far away from the source of the music as possible. He needed a drink or two after hearing that it was going to take another day or two before his little rig was back up to shape. If there was one thing he hated? Idleness. A lack of purpose and direction. Not that he couldn't do a bit of business around Midway Station in the meantime, but he liked to have all of his options (and modes of escape) open, if necessary. His attire was similar to the night before, a pair of boots on his feet were propped up on the tabletop and that black leather jacket hung from his shoulders ontop of the white tank underneath. One of his sidearms was displayed at his belt (that wasn't a mistake) neither was it purely incidental that the slight glint of a knife's blade tucked into his boot could be seen at the ankle where his pant leg had naturally hiked. Stubbled brown features, dark brown eyes, and hair cropped nearly to a caesar-cut, between sips of whiskey on the rocks, Jai had dismantled one of his rifles and was currently cleaning the scope while the rest of the parts rested upon the table before him like a scattering of puzzle pieces. Deadly when assembled. Anything to distract him from his junker ship and this goddamn skull-throbbing music. . (D)
Prodigal Aviator: -=| THAWNOLAN came into Ducky's at a run, slipping under the arm of the person walking in as she approached. Being five-three and only a tenner over a hundred pounds had it's advantages, like ducking round and under people and things. No sooner than she cleared the door did she bob around a small group and palm the table otherwise stopping her path and launching herself over it-- feet tucked up with her knees toward her chest first and then extended in a graceful dismount with her petite grav-boots on the ground like she never stopped running. Of course it was only two or so steps to the next table and with all the bottles and shit on it she opted for under with a skidding slide on her knees and bumping a few legs in the process but she had a foot on the ground lifting her to stand before they really realized what just happened. Proof of what sort of lead she had on whoever was chasing her, Olan was stepping on a chair to a table she didn't realize had gun parts on it until she stepped on it-- and in an equally delayed realization saw the man sitting there but she was already launching herself to catch the rafter to swing herself up; she was on the rafter by the time her chasers came in and only the wandering or observant eyes caught her path. She was hoping Ducky's of all places was going to be one where no one was going to rat her out! And thank goodness for the music or her mumbling panic would have given her away. Two bald men with angry looks about them came in together shoving whoever was in their way. They were of course looking for little pilot with the red braided hair and black choker around her neck. They might have mentioned her with or without the jacket-- she was still wearing it, brown leather like her pants. In an attempt to know whether or not she was going to have to think about a way out of there, she peered to the side away from the entry looking down to the man who's table she'd most recently assaulted, pleading light green eyes at him to pretend she wasn't there! If he hadn't already started doing that. Why were they chasing her? Well, that was the question wasn't it?|=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Jai wasn't even paying attention. Hadn't even noticed as he was damn focused on what he was doing. You could tell by the knot between his dark brows as his fingers held that little q-tip-like instrument for getting into all of those crevices that tended to pick up dust and grime. It wasn't until a pair of swift feet hit his tabletop and jostled all of the pieces upon it, including his glass of whiskey, that his eyes shot up from what he was doing. "Fuck!" His teeth clenched and he saw a flash as she jumped up right up into the rafters. His upward stare in annoyance would've been a dead giveaway, if he wasn't reaching for a wrangling cord at his belt and had looked down at the exactly moment he yanked it from its spool. Clearly he was planning on lassoing her down like a wild beast until he saw the two bald men come in with eyes shooting about looking for the girl. His gaze shot to them. A pause. Obviously he was considering giving her up, but then a thought passed his selfish mind. He could give a damn about the girl who had just disturbed his cleaning (therapy) session. But if she was a fugitive? Hell, he could take the spoils himself! "She went that way, fast as a fucking comet! Red hair aye? Ran straight through and out the back!" Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum immediately took his enthusiasm as truth and would no doubt be hurrying to catch up with her out the back of the bar, while Jai leaned back into his seat but kept his gloved grip tight on that cord. Only when they were gone did he peer up. "You coming down or do I have to make you, brat?" . (D)
Castian Grey: Castian entered the bar quietly behind the two angry men; his curiosity had been piqued when he saw them running in the corridors, and he had chosen to follow--fast enough to almost keep pace with them, but not quite so fast as to attract their attention or others' notice. Tonight, he was shrouded by a long, flowing cloak with large sleeves that concealed his hands completely; the hood was drawn forward to conceal the glow from his eyes, and the front of the cloak was drawn loosely shut in front of him to conceal his form. Castian had slowed before entering, and now stepped cautiously away from the entrance as Jai attempted to mislead the pursuers, though for all Castian knew, the stranger was trying to help them. Obvious that the two were looking for someone, Castian's curiosity led him to utilize his augmented eyes. He let go of his grasp on the ultraviolet spectrum and allowed his eyes to shift to the infrared. The light provided some distraction to his eyes, but its artificial nature didn't produce a strong enough signature to interfere much--just small bright red spots in the centers of the tables and various points around the room and behind the bar. It was the heat radiating from above that drew his eyes... Someone whose body temperature was slightly elevated from the exertion of running away. He didn't dare look up outright, but he knew where to find their quarry. Ever the observer prior to engagement, he simply walked past them to order at the bar, while allowing his vision to return to its natural state. He'd have to remember his dose of verdona later, but the headache wouldn't come on soon after such a brief usage. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=|SHE thought for sure she was seven-kinds of fucked considering when she peered over he had a tie-cord in hand like he meant to do the men a favor. He was paused though and she went back to trying to be small and unseen-- hoping for the best, what else could she do?! She couldn't really hear them that well from the vibrations on the beam she laid on and her own hear and the music... you get the idea. So she lay there with arms over her chest like the dead and eyes closed because looking at the dusty ducks above her wasn't cutting it. She was also probably mumbling the "please chase them off" mantra she was thinking in her head. The Bald Men snaked through bobbing on their toes looking over heads and around shoulders to the people standing and at the tables. When Jai addressed them they took a look at his table-- on one hand, the artillery gave the man credit in a twisted way, on the other why would he help? Fact was they didn't see her and he sounded sincere and looked a little pissed off so they went with it. Olan was too afraid to look so she lay stiff as a board wandering if the pulse in her throat was going to push out of her neck. Jai's voice cut through in it's upward direction and she rolled to her side to peer down again with a look of offense. |=-"Brat?"-=| She questioned rearing her head back some just before her face disappeared to the drop of her body in a brief hang from the rafter to lesson the fall to the table. In that moment her tank top likely exposed some of the tattoo's on her abdomen that were more than they seemed. |=-"I'm probably older than you." -=|She was guessing of course and maybe hoping not that he'd actually believe her, tugging her top down over her belt as she eyed him, unaware of the spectator.|=-"Youz were ganna get a huge thanks'a some kind Doppler, but... pft... I will apologize for mess'n with yer death gear though. "-=|She said with a softening of her face to an apologetic expression, raising her hand upward like some kind of oath to that fact as she started stepping down onto the chair. She lowered that hand and pointed to the gear adding without skipping a beat.|=-"Youz just counting sand here or... is it that time for you?"-=| And yes, Olan forgot no one in the At-verse really spoke like that anymore but she couldn't help it anymore than she could help one sentence after another without giving him a chance to answer until she was on the ground and thinking she should have at least stayed on the chair. What had she been saying? Green eyes ticked between his face, the tie, and his weapons then, once again debating if she should bolt. Could she out run him?|=-[d]
A Vestige Within: She wouldn't make it as far as the next table, not with his hand already on that high-tech lasso if she tried to flee. He'd have her face-planting the floor before she knew what was happening to her... at least in his mind that's what he thought. He watched as she hung and then dropped down onto the table, eye-twitching at her feet so close to his parts again. Brown eyes dragged over her, lingering upon her belly and the tats there before she covered them up again to take the shape of her in and estimate her threat-level and capabilities. "Perhaps you are, but you're still smaller and I figure you to be a delinquent. Therefore, you're a brat." He slowly lowered the lasso as she apologized, albeit it a bit ingenuinely, and stepped down onto the chair. "...that time? counting sand?" She was speaking some lingo he definitely didn't understand but he brushed over and leaned forward, placing his scope down with his free hand and then extending it to her, open-palmed in a worn leather glove. "Alright then, let's see it. What you stole from those two that made 'em chase ya. You wanna thank me? I want to see it. I think you owe me a cut for saving your scrawny little ass." He did note the entrance of the man, familiar, even though he turned away and Jai couldn't see his face, he'd seen the man walk, knew his gait. "Hail Stryker!" A curl at the edge of his lips. Perhaps the man could give him a hand with the brat if she gave him an issue. Would she run again under his demands? Jai was ready if she did. . (D)
Castian Grey: "Water," he spoke softly to the bartender, barely audible over the music. Castian took the glass and concealed it within the opening of his cloak's right sleeve as he made his way from the bar to a table in the same corner as the man who had hailed him. He'd sit with his back to the wall in order to monitor his surroundings more easily without being seen doing so. "Hail," he muttered, echoing the man's word. He had only picked up bits and pieces of their conversation--enough that he gathered Jai thought Olan was a pickpocket or thief and that he was making demands of some sort. Perfectly capable of aiding if push came to shove in their feud, it would be unclear whose side he might choose--if any. He recognized Jai vaguely from the fight pits, but had paid the man little heed. Olan, though, was a new face to him. The small form and the way she carried herself spoke worlds to him about her physical abilities--at least some of them... And he'd concluded she was extremely agile, since she'd managed to not only outrun her pursuers but disappear into the rafters without a trace by the time they'd arrived. He bowed his head in greeting to the woman. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=| THE high-tech lasso was a new one to her and probably why she stayed where she was because she wasn't willing to chance it and piss of the guy who helped her and would then probably have her at his mercy. No, Olan wanted to being at anyone's mercy, she'd just got a new gig! He didn't dispute her age which was a bit of a surprise and reason #2 she wasn't running for the back door. She kept her hands near her belt clearly uncertain where to put them so she toiled her fingertips against each other watching him set the scope down and ask to see what she stole. Impulse moved her body without thought and she reared her head back again in the knee-jerk reaction that matched the sudden brood of her expression, this one worse than when he called her a brat. It made her pending explanations of the words she'd used fly right out of her mind.|=-"What? I didn't steal anything! I blew up their ship!"-=| She was defensive, lacked any training not to be an open book and only after it came out of her mouth did she clearly realize that sounded worse than stealing. |=-"I mean, I kinda did... I'm a better pilot, we were on the same job for different clients and I sorta ..."-=| She used her body in a subconscious demonstration of veering them off course, though she didn't specify what exactly happened. She snapped out of it with a bit of a flinch when he called out to the other man. Olan looked over her jacketed shoulder to see who the man was talking to, her hands grabbing the open sides of it in a tug she never let go of. |=- "Stryker? That doesn't sound good..."-=|She mumbled outloud unknowingly, but mentally took it back when he was nodding to her. With a slight look of confusion her gaze returned to Jai.|=-"It was like... a month ago..."-=|Apparently having taken them that long to catch up with her from whatever losses they'd taken. Hell she looked like an easy target and in a way she was. Couldn't be helped. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Jai had a way of greeting people he'd barely met as if they were his best friends. But it helped in his line of work to act buddy-buddy, show a little charisma, always put himself out there so when someone thought of a hunter? The first person that'd cross their mind would be Cross. Stryker may not even know his name, but it hardly matter. Too bad he was drinking water again, he would've shoved a glass of whiskey his way just as Niema had the night before. She looked like she was ready to split at any second. He arched a brow when she said that she'd blown up their ship. "So it's worse than I thought then, you stole something from them you can't give back... pilot huh? Little thing like you handling a big ship." He grinned subtly and lifted his chin, following her gaze back to Stryker. The man could break her in half, he was sure of it. "...still fresh enough for them. Wonder how much they'd give me if I delivered you to them... Neh, if they lost their ship they're probably lacking in funds or goods to trade currently. They were probably looking to shake you dry before they'd kill you. Tell you what..." He released that cord with a snap as it retracted back into his belt and he reached for his cup again, downing what was left and then pushing it with his fingers to the edge of the table closest to her. "You get me another drink.. we'll call it even. Best whiskey they got. Name's Cross, by the way..." She was cute and intriguing, if nothing else, but she had no other use to him at the moment. . (D)
Castian Grey: The name certainly didn't sound good, particularly without much knowledge of the man beneath the reputation and the shroud. He watched Olan's reactions curiously. She was spirited, to say the least… and she was an open book. Training or not, it almost seemed that she made little effort in deceit-not even a half-truth to cover things up. For a short while, the exchange between the two seemed to be taking a rather dangerous turn… but then it diffused. Somewhat. The other man was either a good actor, or there was a level of seriousness behind all of that talk. Perhaps some element of truth, that he'd turn her in if he thought he could get something out of it. There'd be little motivation to turn her in, and Stryker grew curious enough to speak another syllable in response the man's demand: "Bluff." Right or wrong in the conclusion he'd drawn, there was a duality of purpose behind the word he'd spoken, as there usually was. As stingy as though he had a terribly limited supply of words to speak in his lifetime, they were always carefully calculated. Another sip was taken from his water before he gazed up at the woman. A simple motion from his hand to a seat at his table, but it was ultimately Olan's choice. He wasn't about to strong-arm anyone one way or the other. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=|SCARED? Yeah, of course she was! She felt trapped even though it was a public open bar and reminded herself this was why she hated taking those jobs-- Olan lacked any fighting skill, that hadn't been her purpose and hadn't been the world she grew up in. The last twenty years were a whole different learning curve than the first that was for sure-- well relatively speaking years. She didn't have the eye to tell what all Jai was trained for but he had a danger vibe about him she wasn't going to ignore. Thawnolan swallowed trying to chase her heart back down into her chest and snapped her mouth shut to quell a protest about her stealing something she couldn't give back. Obviously she disagreed but managed to let him talk out the logic without interruption. She nodded her head even, agreeing when he said turning her in was a bad idea because they probably had squat to offer. Yeah, lets go with that! Stryker's voice rang over her shoulder offering the implication the man was bluffing about turning her in, drink or no drink. Olans brows flexed over light green eyes and she peered between them with a look over her shoulder like things just got more complicated. Where they part of a team or not? Jai had made it sound like they were buddy's knew his name even. She looked to Jai accusingly and asked with a confidence more suiting her previously suggested age.|=-" Youz a slummer try'n to tar me?"-=|Regardless of the words she used her tone was clear, she wanted to know if he was trying to trick her or something. Good guy, bad guy? Really the drink, even if expensive seemed easy enough, but now she wasn't sure if she'd missed something and was about to make a mistake by agreeing to the drink as evens. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Poor girl looked frightened. He was clearly amused, but then again, Jai was naturally the hunter, the predator who liked to toy with his prey even if he wasn't going to take it down for the kill. Perhaps Stryker realized that. He was calling bluff and Cross shot him a guilty look. "Ya got me." The same team? It seemed not, but seeing her potentially stuck between a rock and a hard place only made this sweeter. He saw Stryker's offer of a seat, and perhaps protection to the girl who still hadn't given her name to either man, but it was her question that made him huff and pull his booted feet down from the tabletop to hit the floor with a thump. "Not a slummer. Not even close. And I'm not tryin' to tar you." He rose from that seat. "Stryker's the walking, talking lie-detector. Ask him if I'm trying to pull one on you. One drink. Not even a whole round. We're square." Or so he said now. On his feet he stood nearly a foot taller than her, but he didn't approach her, he turned his back nonthreateningly and proceeded to re-assemble his rifle, piece-by-piece instead, pausing to examine a few to make sure her calamitous landing upon his table hadn't damaged anything since she'd already branded herself as a hellion. . (D)
Castian Grey: Castian's surprise at her compliance to Jai's demand was well-hidden beneath that hood. Even without the hood, it'd barely been a ghost of an expression, but it had been briefly there nonetheless. Either she was playing it safe, or she was extremely rattled. It wasn't his place to remedy that, though. Perhaps when she returned she'd accept the seat he'd offered-if she'd seen it. Regardless, it wouldn't be offered again, and it wouldn't matter one way or the other. He turned his attentions again to Jai, observing his response to the bluff being called. Predator, perhaps… Or a sadist. He didn't seem foolish enough to have a superiority complex… Predator or sadist, he didn't worry Castian… He'd fought predators before, too many times to count… and sadists were still only human. And then the voice pulled his thoughts back into the present again. "Hardly," he muttered two syllables this time to address Jai's remark on three points. He was no lie detector, he wasn't about to answer any such question, and they were hardly square... Though without much thought and it would seem the response was directed at the former part of the statement. Castian watched with some admiration at the skill with which the man reassembled the rifle. Predator, then. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=|THERE was her answer, he was fucking with her even though he did want the drink, he made it a point to tell her he wasn't a slummer or there to tar her. Even though he wasn't near her when he stood she leaned her shoulder back a little as she looked up at him and then back down as he turned around to tend to the gun pieces she'd almost stepped all over. She glanced back at Stryker who frankly was the more unstelling of the two with his cloak and one word answers. Hail.... Bluff.... Jai called him a lie-detector and in a blink she was palming her temples with a shake of her head and the first stride toward the bar. A drink she wanted one, though she hadn't decided if she was getting one for Craig (Cross, she's terrible with names) or if she was going to sit with Castian. |=- Maybe he's more of a predator than Cal... all cloaked and shit. You don't know. ... Kaleb, a bottle of your best wiskey STAT! ....just get the bottle and have a few yourself..."-=| Yes, she was thinking outloud and broke to address the Barkeep whose name was actually Karl. The old man seemed to know her well enough to ignore the name mishap and get the bottle but held his hand out before he'd give it to her. She didn't have a tab, she forgot. With a grumbled reluctance and a loss of her train of thought she fished the coin from a pocket inside her jacket and slapped them on the bar looking at the old man like he was robbing her. He just chuckled and picked up the tek-bits setting down the bottle and watching her walk off with it. When she returned to Cross' table her tone was curious and weary.|=- "He really a lie detector?"-=| That sounded like a violation of her privacy, not that Thawnolan was a good liar anyway, unless it was to pretend not to know something, that she could do. She picked up his glass and tucked the base of the bottle under her arm so tipping it to pour into the glass was easy. And to avoid spilling she refrained from looking at him while she did it, waiting until she set his glass back down to move around opposite of where he stood so the table was between them, or mostly. Olan skipped a glass and took a face contorting swig from the bottle-- no, she didn't drink that often. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Predator indeed. He didn't glance over his shoulder again, not until he was done assembling his rifle once again. He must've done it a thousand times and then some. In the JSS recruits spent hours disassembling, reassembling, disassembling, reassembling, disassembling and oh... reassembling again til their fingers were numb. He could probably do it with his eyes closed but he didn't like to play such games with himself these days. He tipped the rifle up, gave it a look over and then peered down the scope as he took aim at a random bolt in the wall across the room. Or maybe he should shoot those blasted musicians. Fucking music. "Seems you're on Niema's goodside, Stryker, that's a good place to be," He remarked while the brat was retrieving his drink. Once he was satisfied with the rifle's state he propped it against his shoulder with his finger still on the trigger, tapping it idly. Reckless? Crossfire, remember? He was leaning against the table watching Stryker calmly when the redhead returned and poured the whiskey. As far as her question went? "You watch the man fight in the pits and see if you want to risk lying to him." Dark browns trailed after her as she moved to the other side of the table to took a swig straight to the head. "Cheers then..." he tipped his own glass up with a salute to both of his new companions, because that's what they were whether they knew or liked it or not. The delinquent so-called pilot with her skittishness and the aloof deadpan fighter. "You still haven't given us a name, little lady." He propped himself back against the table so he had both of them in his view, not for safety, purely for conversational purposes. . (D)
Castian Grey: Unsettling to some of the softer people in the AtVerse, perhaps, but he had long since lost the etiquette he once had. Not that he was being rude outright, but he was unaware of the affect he sometimes had on some people. It wouldn't change a lot even if he were aware, though, as he had only a few vestiges of etiquette that shined through in one way or another occasionally. Consequently, it never crossed his mind that he might be at least partly responsible for the weariness in her voice when she returned and spoke to Jai. He watched as Jai inspected the rifle a bit and mocked aim across the room. The notion that he was on Niema's good said brought forth a soft "huh" that sounded almost like the traces of a near-chuckle. If the Underboss had a good side, it was probably as dangerous a place to be as her bad. The predator was smooth, he gave him that... but his lips were loose, or perhaps his mind. So as to make it clear to both of the other patrons, once more he chose a single-syllable word, but in question this time. "Us?" He liked having names to put with faces, sure, but he could care less if someone surrendered their name to him. He glanced toward the direction those two men had gone previously as a thought occurred to him, the bald ones that he'd followed here... he wondered how long before they'd realize they'd been duped and would return... or even if they would realize it and return. They had been rather easy to throw off. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=|OLAN wasn't going to complain about a friend figure even if loosely so. She was a nut-case to most so her company was sparse more often than not. The man with the gun was intimidating which made the statement he gave of the other man seem even more so and she swallowed dryly bringing the bottle close enough to her abdomen to touch it. Her chin tipped over her shoulder with a twist of her half-hidden neck as she looked to the man you didn't want to lie to, Stryker. She was still standing as Cross got comfortable keeping both of them in his view; she was watching Stryker look at them as Jai prodded her for a name and the cloaked man quickly countered with a question of that term, "us" like he didn't agree he cared for her name. Olan's expression was as impulsive as the subtle squaring of her shoulders as gave Castian a "fuck you too" look just before casting those green eyes to Cross, whose name she already forgot. No surprise. |=- "Right, I'm Olan... soz.. what's the deal 'twixt youz two anyhowz?"-=| There was a deal right? She was fishing and not entirely making much less keeping eye contact with Jai when she asked. Though she did feel a bit silly still standing and took up the seat beside her at Cross' table though she slid the chair out a little so she could get up quick-like if she needed to. Not that it'd matter would it? She was eyeing the weaponry like anyone curious and without much personal experience with them. Not that anyone wanted to put a firearm in her hands. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Stryker was a hard man to read. His one word responses didn't really help either. Jai glanced to him when he made that sound and then yet another one word inquiry that pretty much spoke more than it needed to. He missed Olan's look but surely it would've amused him. "Fine fine.. I can only speak for myself, not for Styker here." Finally he had a name to put to the face, but what kind of woman was named Olan? Sounded like a male name, just his perspective. Cross pulled a Stryker when he gave her an "Us?" He huffed lightly, eyes lingering upon her as she sat and then shifting back to Stryker. "There is no youz two, he's barely an acquaintance actually. I saw him fight last night in the pits. Quite impressive. Otherwise I know his name, one of his associates, and nothing else." He lifted that rifle to slide it back into the harness at his back, finally relieving his hands of the weight with a stretch. A pilot, a fighter, and a hunter. They made an interesting trio didn't they? Especially with the clash of personalities. "I think he tolerates my presence enough though. Speaking of tolerance, you said you're a pilot eh, Olan? Just what do you pilot? Must be jumpy if you're knocking other ships outta the air." . (D)
Castian Grey: Well… he'd thought he was making it clear there wasn't an "us", but it seemed to be lost on Olan. At least Jai caught the undertones in his selections each time… It didn't deter him, but that was not the reason for his choice in words. There was small bit of satisfaction and a slight but unseen smirk beneath his hood as Jai finally gave up all pretense that they knew each other. Jai's bantering in response to Olan's well-placed question brought a certain level of amusement to him, but he didn't bother to correct the man's inaccuracies. It was better for him that way, that sort of obscurity. He finished his water and stood quietly, moving away from them for the moment to go and get a refill. Water, the life-giving substance he cherished over all other drink. Water, the thing he'd twice been criticized for--once publicly so--in as few days. Part of him wanted to ask Olan about work, as she was a pilot. That status meant she might have connections to get him a more preferable income, particularly since she didn't seem the type to be involved in the sordid affairs of the Underside. He wouldn't ask, though--not with their current standing. He was convinced after their meeting here that she distrusted him, feared him, or both. In either case, that did not make good grounds to ask about work. Ah well. He glanced again in the direction Olan's pursuers had gone, and lingered at the bar a moment with his drink in hand before turning back to his "companions". (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=| SHE was prone to misunderstandings because she was still trying to learn how to read people-- space and other ships she could do, people... not so much. Not in this context. Cross cleared it up for her though, the mistake about there being anything between the two guys and she immediately felt like a total flat-scan. The down side to a bottle is it was harder to hide behind considering the small mouth and long neck but she slumped a little and took a drink anyway if only to keep her mouth from saying what was on her mind. Cross spoke of tolerance and she side-glanced the moving Stryker until Jai was turning another question to her. Red brows arched long before her peridot eyes swung over his darker complexion and more matured visage with a small smirk of her mouth. |=-"You taste my name like a Wingo shat on your tongue Crow?.... I fly an H-Class mid-size long-hauler, at least until my next job. It'll be a lot bigger then, modified just for me and my pilot-port."-=| Damn him for getting her talking, it was already out of her mouth and Olan had the conversation enough times to know there was a big chance he was going to ask-- not many knew what it was. Her expression said shit before the word escaped her mouth-- yeah she was that transparent and couldn't help it. |=-" Need a refill?"-=|She glanced up at Jai like she was just asking what she was asking to change the subject but subconsciously wanted to look at him before she decided the explanation was best to walk away from. Maybe he'd let it go and she wouldn't need to feel like a freak before she hauled ass out of there. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: He'd have to ask that man sometime why he preferred to drink water. But he wasn't going to out him at the moment. He hardly seemed like the sharing type after all. Jai was still keeping a close eye on him either way. The man was either very predictable or very unpredictable. That's because it's not a flattering name, brat. Maybe he'd come up with a nickname for her. He already had a Goggles for Captain Maddox. She knew what he was going to ask next and proposing a refill to his drink wasn't going to divert his hawk-like attentions. "What's this job you got coming up eh? You hauling something big? Don't worry, I'm not going to try and steal your work. I'm a shit pilot. And my ship's a pile of junk. I doubt he's capable of snatching your work away either." Once again assuming, but since Stryker didn't say more than one word at a time he figured he'd at least suggest what he thought to be the truth just to make Olan more pliable. He glanced from her face down to the bottle with a small grin and shook his head no. Answer first... . (D)
Castian Grey: Having been a pilot himself, though never of anything so large for more than a few minutes during a raid, Castian was genuinely impressed by the woman's matter-of-fact response to the question of her ship. He looked at her again as he approached the table adjacent to theirs, this time a look of appraisal. For one so small, there was a certain irony that she would pilot such a large vessel, but it was not unheard of. Returning to his seat in silence, he never stopped listening to their conversation, nor did he cease in his observation. He'd seen her visible dismay at having said too much, though he was not sure himself why she felt she had said more than she wanted. Except the comment about a pilot port, though he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He'd heard his former master mention one a time or two, but it was always in passing and never in a conversation with Castian. Jai's way with words and questions amused him; in spite of herself, the woman hadn't bolted yet, but he clearly seemed to be ensuring that he kept her on edge. Secretly, Castian pondered if the other man was trying to put him on edge as well. No matter. He didn't respond in any way regarding whether he was capable of snatching her work up. Instead, he just sat in vigilant silence; the occasional glance was given to see if there was any sign of those men return, as he truly expected they might... but it was only ever a glance. He much preferred watching those who were actually present. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=| NOT the question she thought he'd ask which was why she looked relieved and amused despite his decline of the refill. In an attempt not to nurse herself into a stupor she set that bottle on the table top and leaned away from it and against the back of her chair dropping her hands in her lap. It was impossible not to notice Stryker taking up the table next to theirs and observing them but she tried her best to look like she didn't notice-- which was a fail at anything but obvious avoidance. She didn't want to look at Cross-- well, she did but that was the point, which meant she didn't look at him long even as she answered. Finding things to look at that wasn't either man. |=-" An Expedition to the outter rings... and I wasn't worried, I can tell you're not a pilot and neither is he."-=| Perhaps the only profession she could pick up, though Skylar(Stryker), to her, wasn't a pilot either. Thawnolan looked up at the Hunter with the same factually of her statement, wrapped in a softness of her amusement. Like it was funny to think either of them could steal that job from her. Yes, when it came to flying she was an arrogant little cuss though with reason. It didn't last long though, the look, because he intimidated her in more ways than one and it was just safer not to look right?|=-[d]
[...there's more...]
A Vestige Within- Jules- played Cross
Castian Grey - Ronnie - played Stryker
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Random crossing at DUCKYs
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A Vestige Within: While the pounding music of Ducky's wasn't exactly his forte', Jai had somehow ended up within the confines of this bar which happened to be packed tonight with the usual denizens. You'd better believe he was seated as far away from the source of the music as possible. He needed a drink or two after hearing that it was going to take another day or two before his little rig was back up to shape. If there was one thing he hated? Idleness. A lack of purpose and direction. Not that he couldn't do a bit of business around Midway Station in the meantime, but he liked to have all of his options (and modes of escape) open, if necessary. His attire was similar to the night before, a pair of boots on his feet were propped up on the tabletop and that black leather jacket hung from his shoulders ontop of the white tank underneath. One of his sidearms was displayed at his belt (that wasn't a mistake) neither was it purely incidental that the slight glint of a knife's blade tucked into his boot could be seen at the ankle where his pant leg had naturally hiked. Stubbled brown features, dark brown eyes, and hair cropped nearly to a caesar-cut, between sips of whiskey on the rocks, Jai had dismantled one of his rifles and was currently cleaning the scope while the rest of the parts rested upon the table before him like a scattering of puzzle pieces. Deadly when assembled. Anything to distract him from his junker ship and this goddamn skull-throbbing music. . (D)
Prodigal Aviator: -=| THAWNOLAN came into Ducky's at a run, slipping under the arm of the person walking in as she approached. Being five-three and only a tenner over a hundred pounds had it's advantages, like ducking round and under people and things. No sooner than she cleared the door did she bob around a small group and palm the table otherwise stopping her path and launching herself over it-- feet tucked up with her knees toward her chest first and then extended in a graceful dismount with her petite grav-boots on the ground like she never stopped running. Of course it was only two or so steps to the next table and with all the bottles and shit on it she opted for under with a skidding slide on her knees and bumping a few legs in the process but she had a foot on the ground lifting her to stand before they really realized what just happened. Proof of what sort of lead she had on whoever was chasing her, Olan was stepping on a chair to a table she didn't realize had gun parts on it until she stepped on it-- and in an equally delayed realization saw the man sitting there but she was already launching herself to catch the rafter to swing herself up; she was on the rafter by the time her chasers came in and only the wandering or observant eyes caught her path. She was hoping Ducky's of all places was going to be one where no one was going to rat her out! And thank goodness for the music or her mumbling panic would have given her away. Two bald men with angry looks about them came in together shoving whoever was in their way. They were of course looking for little pilot with the red braided hair and black choker around her neck. They might have mentioned her with or without the jacket-- she was still wearing it, brown leather like her pants. In an attempt to know whether or not she was going to have to think about a way out of there, she peered to the side away from the entry looking down to the man who's table she'd most recently assaulted, pleading light green eyes at him to pretend she wasn't there! If he hadn't already started doing that. Why were they chasing her? Well, that was the question wasn't it?|=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Jai wasn't even paying attention. Hadn't even noticed as he was damn focused on what he was doing. You could tell by the knot between his dark brows as his fingers held that little q-tip-like instrument for getting into all of those crevices that tended to pick up dust and grime. It wasn't until a pair of swift feet hit his tabletop and jostled all of the pieces upon it, including his glass of whiskey, that his eyes shot up from what he was doing. "Fuck!" His teeth clenched and he saw a flash as she jumped up right up into the rafters. His upward stare in annoyance would've been a dead giveaway, if he wasn't reaching for a wrangling cord at his belt and had looked down at the exactly moment he yanked it from its spool. Clearly he was planning on lassoing her down like a wild beast until he saw the two bald men come in with eyes shooting about looking for the girl. His gaze shot to them. A pause. Obviously he was considering giving her up, but then a thought passed his selfish mind. He could give a damn about the girl who had just disturbed his cleaning (therapy) session. But if she was a fugitive? Hell, he could take the spoils himself! "She went that way, fast as a fucking comet! Red hair aye? Ran straight through and out the back!" Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum immediately took his enthusiasm as truth and would no doubt be hurrying to catch up with her out the back of the bar, while Jai leaned back into his seat but kept his gloved grip tight on that cord. Only when they were gone did he peer up. "You coming down or do I have to make you, brat?" . (D)
Castian Grey: Castian entered the bar quietly behind the two angry men; his curiosity had been piqued when he saw them running in the corridors, and he had chosen to follow--fast enough to almost keep pace with them, but not quite so fast as to attract their attention or others' notice. Tonight, he was shrouded by a long, flowing cloak with large sleeves that concealed his hands completely; the hood was drawn forward to conceal the glow from his eyes, and the front of the cloak was drawn loosely shut in front of him to conceal his form. Castian had slowed before entering, and now stepped cautiously away from the entrance as Jai attempted to mislead the pursuers, though for all Castian knew, the stranger was trying to help them. Obvious that the two were looking for someone, Castian's curiosity led him to utilize his augmented eyes. He let go of his grasp on the ultraviolet spectrum and allowed his eyes to shift to the infrared. The light provided some distraction to his eyes, but its artificial nature didn't produce a strong enough signature to interfere much--just small bright red spots in the centers of the tables and various points around the room and behind the bar. It was the heat radiating from above that drew his eyes... Someone whose body temperature was slightly elevated from the exertion of running away. He didn't dare look up outright, but he knew where to find their quarry. Ever the observer prior to engagement, he simply walked past them to order at the bar, while allowing his vision to return to its natural state. He'd have to remember his dose of verdona later, but the headache wouldn't come on soon after such a brief usage. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=|SHE thought for sure she was seven-kinds of fucked considering when she peered over he had a tie-cord in hand like he meant to do the men a favor. He was paused though and she went back to trying to be small and unseen-- hoping for the best, what else could she do?! She couldn't really hear them that well from the vibrations on the beam she laid on and her own hear and the music... you get the idea. So she lay there with arms over her chest like the dead and eyes closed because looking at the dusty ducks above her wasn't cutting it. She was also probably mumbling the "please chase them off" mantra she was thinking in her head. The Bald Men snaked through bobbing on their toes looking over heads and around shoulders to the people standing and at the tables. When Jai addressed them they took a look at his table-- on one hand, the artillery gave the man credit in a twisted way, on the other why would he help? Fact was they didn't see her and he sounded sincere and looked a little pissed off so they went with it. Olan was too afraid to look so she lay stiff as a board wandering if the pulse in her throat was going to push out of her neck. Jai's voice cut through in it's upward direction and she rolled to her side to peer down again with a look of offense. |=-"Brat?"-=| She questioned rearing her head back some just before her face disappeared to the drop of her body in a brief hang from the rafter to lesson the fall to the table. In that moment her tank top likely exposed some of the tattoo's on her abdomen that were more than they seemed. |=-"I'm probably older than you." -=|She was guessing of course and maybe hoping not that he'd actually believe her, tugging her top down over her belt as she eyed him, unaware of the spectator.|=-"Youz were ganna get a huge thanks'a some kind Doppler, but... pft... I will apologize for mess'n with yer death gear though. "-=|She said with a softening of her face to an apologetic expression, raising her hand upward like some kind of oath to that fact as she started stepping down onto the chair. She lowered that hand and pointed to the gear adding without skipping a beat.|=-"Youz just counting sand here or... is it that time for you?"-=| And yes, Olan forgot no one in the At-verse really spoke like that anymore but she couldn't help it anymore than she could help one sentence after another without giving him a chance to answer until she was on the ground and thinking she should have at least stayed on the chair. What had she been saying? Green eyes ticked between his face, the tie, and his weapons then, once again debating if she should bolt. Could she out run him?|=-[d]
A Vestige Within: She wouldn't make it as far as the next table, not with his hand already on that high-tech lasso if she tried to flee. He'd have her face-planting the floor before she knew what was happening to her... at least in his mind that's what he thought. He watched as she hung and then dropped down onto the table, eye-twitching at her feet so close to his parts again. Brown eyes dragged over her, lingering upon her belly and the tats there before she covered them up again to take the shape of her in and estimate her threat-level and capabilities. "Perhaps you are, but you're still smaller and I figure you to be a delinquent. Therefore, you're a brat." He slowly lowered the lasso as she apologized, albeit it a bit ingenuinely, and stepped down onto the chair. "...that time? counting sand?" She was speaking some lingo he definitely didn't understand but he brushed over and leaned forward, placing his scope down with his free hand and then extending it to her, open-palmed in a worn leather glove. "Alright then, let's see it. What you stole from those two that made 'em chase ya. You wanna thank me? I want to see it. I think you owe me a cut for saving your scrawny little ass." He did note the entrance of the man, familiar, even though he turned away and Jai couldn't see his face, he'd seen the man walk, knew his gait. "Hail Stryker!" A curl at the edge of his lips. Perhaps the man could give him a hand with the brat if she gave him an issue. Would she run again under his demands? Jai was ready if she did. . (D)
Castian Grey: "Water," he spoke softly to the bartender, barely audible over the music. Castian took the glass and concealed it within the opening of his cloak's right sleeve as he made his way from the bar to a table in the same corner as the man who had hailed him. He'd sit with his back to the wall in order to monitor his surroundings more easily without being seen doing so. "Hail," he muttered, echoing the man's word. He had only picked up bits and pieces of their conversation--enough that he gathered Jai thought Olan was a pickpocket or thief and that he was making demands of some sort. Perfectly capable of aiding if push came to shove in their feud, it would be unclear whose side he might choose--if any. He recognized Jai vaguely from the fight pits, but had paid the man little heed. Olan, though, was a new face to him. The small form and the way she carried herself spoke worlds to him about her physical abilities--at least some of them... And he'd concluded she was extremely agile, since she'd managed to not only outrun her pursuers but disappear into the rafters without a trace by the time they'd arrived. He bowed his head in greeting to the woman. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=| THE high-tech lasso was a new one to her and probably why she stayed where she was because she wasn't willing to chance it and piss of the guy who helped her and would then probably have her at his mercy. No, Olan wanted to being at anyone's mercy, she'd just got a new gig! He didn't dispute her age which was a bit of a surprise and reason #2 she wasn't running for the back door. She kept her hands near her belt clearly uncertain where to put them so she toiled her fingertips against each other watching him set the scope down and ask to see what she stole. Impulse moved her body without thought and she reared her head back again in the knee-jerk reaction that matched the sudden brood of her expression, this one worse than when he called her a brat. It made her pending explanations of the words she'd used fly right out of her mind.|=-"What? I didn't steal anything! I blew up their ship!"-=| She was defensive, lacked any training not to be an open book and only after it came out of her mouth did she clearly realize that sounded worse than stealing. |=-"I mean, I kinda did... I'm a better pilot, we were on the same job for different clients and I sorta ..."-=| She used her body in a subconscious demonstration of veering them off course, though she didn't specify what exactly happened. She snapped out of it with a bit of a flinch when he called out to the other man. Olan looked over her jacketed shoulder to see who the man was talking to, her hands grabbing the open sides of it in a tug she never let go of. |=- "Stryker? That doesn't sound good..."-=|She mumbled outloud unknowingly, but mentally took it back when he was nodding to her. With a slight look of confusion her gaze returned to Jai.|=-"It was like... a month ago..."-=|Apparently having taken them that long to catch up with her from whatever losses they'd taken. Hell she looked like an easy target and in a way she was. Couldn't be helped. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Jai had a way of greeting people he'd barely met as if they were his best friends. But it helped in his line of work to act buddy-buddy, show a little charisma, always put himself out there so when someone thought of a hunter? The first person that'd cross their mind would be Cross. Stryker may not even know his name, but it hardly matter. Too bad he was drinking water again, he would've shoved a glass of whiskey his way just as Niema had the night before. She looked like she was ready to split at any second. He arched a brow when she said that she'd blown up their ship. "So it's worse than I thought then, you stole something from them you can't give back... pilot huh? Little thing like you handling a big ship." He grinned subtly and lifted his chin, following her gaze back to Stryker. The man could break her in half, he was sure of it. "...still fresh enough for them. Wonder how much they'd give me if I delivered you to them... Neh, if they lost their ship they're probably lacking in funds or goods to trade currently. They were probably looking to shake you dry before they'd kill you. Tell you what..." He released that cord with a snap as it retracted back into his belt and he reached for his cup again, downing what was left and then pushing it with his fingers to the edge of the table closest to her. "You get me another drink.. we'll call it even. Best whiskey they got. Name's Cross, by the way..." She was cute and intriguing, if nothing else, but she had no other use to him at the moment. . (D)
Castian Grey: The name certainly didn't sound good, particularly without much knowledge of the man beneath the reputation and the shroud. He watched Olan's reactions curiously. She was spirited, to say the least… and she was an open book. Training or not, it almost seemed that she made little effort in deceit-not even a half-truth to cover things up. For a short while, the exchange between the two seemed to be taking a rather dangerous turn… but then it diffused. Somewhat. The other man was either a good actor, or there was a level of seriousness behind all of that talk. Perhaps some element of truth, that he'd turn her in if he thought he could get something out of it. There'd be little motivation to turn her in, and Stryker grew curious enough to speak another syllable in response the man's demand: "Bluff." Right or wrong in the conclusion he'd drawn, there was a duality of purpose behind the word he'd spoken, as there usually was. As stingy as though he had a terribly limited supply of words to speak in his lifetime, they were always carefully calculated. Another sip was taken from his water before he gazed up at the woman. A simple motion from his hand to a seat at his table, but it was ultimately Olan's choice. He wasn't about to strong-arm anyone one way or the other. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=|SCARED? Yeah, of course she was! She felt trapped even though it was a public open bar and reminded herself this was why she hated taking those jobs-- Olan lacked any fighting skill, that hadn't been her purpose and hadn't been the world she grew up in. The last twenty years were a whole different learning curve than the first that was for sure-- well relatively speaking years. She didn't have the eye to tell what all Jai was trained for but he had a danger vibe about him she wasn't going to ignore. Thawnolan swallowed trying to chase her heart back down into her chest and snapped her mouth shut to quell a protest about her stealing something she couldn't give back. Obviously she disagreed but managed to let him talk out the logic without interruption. She nodded her head even, agreeing when he said turning her in was a bad idea because they probably had squat to offer. Yeah, lets go with that! Stryker's voice rang over her shoulder offering the implication the man was bluffing about turning her in, drink or no drink. Olans brows flexed over light green eyes and she peered between them with a look over her shoulder like things just got more complicated. Where they part of a team or not? Jai had made it sound like they were buddy's knew his name even. She looked to Jai accusingly and asked with a confidence more suiting her previously suggested age.|=-" Youz a slummer try'n to tar me?"-=|Regardless of the words she used her tone was clear, she wanted to know if he was trying to trick her or something. Good guy, bad guy? Really the drink, even if expensive seemed easy enough, but now she wasn't sure if she'd missed something and was about to make a mistake by agreeing to the drink as evens. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Poor girl looked frightened. He was clearly amused, but then again, Jai was naturally the hunter, the predator who liked to toy with his prey even if he wasn't going to take it down for the kill. Perhaps Stryker realized that. He was calling bluff and Cross shot him a guilty look. "Ya got me." The same team? It seemed not, but seeing her potentially stuck between a rock and a hard place only made this sweeter. He saw Stryker's offer of a seat, and perhaps protection to the girl who still hadn't given her name to either man, but it was her question that made him huff and pull his booted feet down from the tabletop to hit the floor with a thump. "Not a slummer. Not even close. And I'm not tryin' to tar you." He rose from that seat. "Stryker's the walking, talking lie-detector. Ask him if I'm trying to pull one on you. One drink. Not even a whole round. We're square." Or so he said now. On his feet he stood nearly a foot taller than her, but he didn't approach her, he turned his back nonthreateningly and proceeded to re-assemble his rifle, piece-by-piece instead, pausing to examine a few to make sure her calamitous landing upon his table hadn't damaged anything since she'd already branded herself as a hellion. . (D)
Castian Grey: Castian's surprise at her compliance to Jai's demand was well-hidden beneath that hood. Even without the hood, it'd barely been a ghost of an expression, but it had been briefly there nonetheless. Either she was playing it safe, or she was extremely rattled. It wasn't his place to remedy that, though. Perhaps when she returned she'd accept the seat he'd offered-if she'd seen it. Regardless, it wouldn't be offered again, and it wouldn't matter one way or the other. He turned his attentions again to Jai, observing his response to the bluff being called. Predator, perhaps… Or a sadist. He didn't seem foolish enough to have a superiority complex… Predator or sadist, he didn't worry Castian… He'd fought predators before, too many times to count… and sadists were still only human. And then the voice pulled his thoughts back into the present again. "Hardly," he muttered two syllables this time to address Jai's remark on three points. He was no lie detector, he wasn't about to answer any such question, and they were hardly square... Though without much thought and it would seem the response was directed at the former part of the statement. Castian watched with some admiration at the skill with which the man reassembled the rifle. Predator, then. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=|THERE was her answer, he was fucking with her even though he did want the drink, he made it a point to tell her he wasn't a slummer or there to tar her. Even though he wasn't near her when he stood she leaned her shoulder back a little as she looked up at him and then back down as he turned around to tend to the gun pieces she'd almost stepped all over. She glanced back at Stryker who frankly was the more unstelling of the two with his cloak and one word answers. Hail.... Bluff.... Jai called him a lie-detector and in a blink she was palming her temples with a shake of her head and the first stride toward the bar. A drink she wanted one, though she hadn't decided if she was getting one for Craig (Cross, she's terrible with names) or if she was going to sit with Castian. |=- Maybe he's more of a predator than Cal... all cloaked and shit. You don't know. ... Kaleb, a bottle of your best wiskey STAT! ....just get the bottle and have a few yourself..."-=| Yes, she was thinking outloud and broke to address the Barkeep whose name was actually Karl. The old man seemed to know her well enough to ignore the name mishap and get the bottle but held his hand out before he'd give it to her. She didn't have a tab, she forgot. With a grumbled reluctance and a loss of her train of thought she fished the coin from a pocket inside her jacket and slapped them on the bar looking at the old man like he was robbing her. He just chuckled and picked up the tek-bits setting down the bottle and watching her walk off with it. When she returned to Cross' table her tone was curious and weary.|=- "He really a lie detector?"-=| That sounded like a violation of her privacy, not that Thawnolan was a good liar anyway, unless it was to pretend not to know something, that she could do. She picked up his glass and tucked the base of the bottle under her arm so tipping it to pour into the glass was easy. And to avoid spilling she refrained from looking at him while she did it, waiting until she set his glass back down to move around opposite of where he stood so the table was between them, or mostly. Olan skipped a glass and took a face contorting swig from the bottle-- no, she didn't drink that often. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Predator indeed. He didn't glance over his shoulder again, not until he was done assembling his rifle once again. He must've done it a thousand times and then some. In the JSS recruits spent hours disassembling, reassembling, disassembling, reassembling, disassembling and oh... reassembling again til their fingers were numb. He could probably do it with his eyes closed but he didn't like to play such games with himself these days. He tipped the rifle up, gave it a look over and then peered down the scope as he took aim at a random bolt in the wall across the room. Or maybe he should shoot those blasted musicians. Fucking music. "Seems you're on Niema's goodside, Stryker, that's a good place to be," He remarked while the brat was retrieving his drink. Once he was satisfied with the rifle's state he propped it against his shoulder with his finger still on the trigger, tapping it idly. Reckless? Crossfire, remember? He was leaning against the table watching Stryker calmly when the redhead returned and poured the whiskey. As far as her question went? "You watch the man fight in the pits and see if you want to risk lying to him." Dark browns trailed after her as she moved to the other side of the table to took a swig straight to the head. "Cheers then..." he tipped his own glass up with a salute to both of his new companions, because that's what they were whether they knew or liked it or not. The delinquent so-called pilot with her skittishness and the aloof deadpan fighter. "You still haven't given us a name, little lady." He propped himself back against the table so he had both of them in his view, not for safety, purely for conversational purposes. . (D)
Castian Grey: Unsettling to some of the softer people in the AtVerse, perhaps, but he had long since lost the etiquette he once had. Not that he was being rude outright, but he was unaware of the affect he sometimes had on some people. It wouldn't change a lot even if he were aware, though, as he had only a few vestiges of etiquette that shined through in one way or another occasionally. Consequently, it never crossed his mind that he might be at least partly responsible for the weariness in her voice when she returned and spoke to Jai. He watched as Jai inspected the rifle a bit and mocked aim across the room. The notion that he was on Niema's good said brought forth a soft "huh" that sounded almost like the traces of a near-chuckle. If the Underboss had a good side, it was probably as dangerous a place to be as her bad. The predator was smooth, he gave him that... but his lips were loose, or perhaps his mind. So as to make it clear to both of the other patrons, once more he chose a single-syllable word, but in question this time. "Us?" He liked having names to put with faces, sure, but he could care less if someone surrendered their name to him. He glanced toward the direction those two men had gone previously as a thought occurred to him, the bald ones that he'd followed here... he wondered how long before they'd realize they'd been duped and would return... or even if they would realize it and return. They had been rather easy to throw off. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=|OLAN wasn't going to complain about a friend figure even if loosely so. She was a nut-case to most so her company was sparse more often than not. The man with the gun was intimidating which made the statement he gave of the other man seem even more so and she swallowed dryly bringing the bottle close enough to her abdomen to touch it. Her chin tipped over her shoulder with a twist of her half-hidden neck as she looked to the man you didn't want to lie to, Stryker. She was still standing as Cross got comfortable keeping both of them in his view; she was watching Stryker look at them as Jai prodded her for a name and the cloaked man quickly countered with a question of that term, "us" like he didn't agree he cared for her name. Olan's expression was as impulsive as the subtle squaring of her shoulders as gave Castian a "fuck you too" look just before casting those green eyes to Cross, whose name she already forgot. No surprise. |=- "Right, I'm Olan... soz.. what's the deal 'twixt youz two anyhowz?"-=| There was a deal right? She was fishing and not entirely making much less keeping eye contact with Jai when she asked. Though she did feel a bit silly still standing and took up the seat beside her at Cross' table though she slid the chair out a little so she could get up quick-like if she needed to. Not that it'd matter would it? She was eyeing the weaponry like anyone curious and without much personal experience with them. Not that anyone wanted to put a firearm in her hands. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: Stryker was a hard man to read. His one word responses didn't really help either. Jai glanced to him when he made that sound and then yet another one word inquiry that pretty much spoke more than it needed to. He missed Olan's look but surely it would've amused him. "Fine fine.. I can only speak for myself, not for Styker here." Finally he had a name to put to the face, but what kind of woman was named Olan? Sounded like a male name, just his perspective. Cross pulled a Stryker when he gave her an "Us?" He huffed lightly, eyes lingering upon her as she sat and then shifting back to Stryker. "There is no youz two, he's barely an acquaintance actually. I saw him fight last night in the pits. Quite impressive. Otherwise I know his name, one of his associates, and nothing else." He lifted that rifle to slide it back into the harness at his back, finally relieving his hands of the weight with a stretch. A pilot, a fighter, and a hunter. They made an interesting trio didn't they? Especially with the clash of personalities. "I think he tolerates my presence enough though. Speaking of tolerance, you said you're a pilot eh, Olan? Just what do you pilot? Must be jumpy if you're knocking other ships outta the air." . (D)
Castian Grey: Well… he'd thought he was making it clear there wasn't an "us", but it seemed to be lost on Olan. At least Jai caught the undertones in his selections each time… It didn't deter him, but that was not the reason for his choice in words. There was small bit of satisfaction and a slight but unseen smirk beneath his hood as Jai finally gave up all pretense that they knew each other. Jai's bantering in response to Olan's well-placed question brought a certain level of amusement to him, but he didn't bother to correct the man's inaccuracies. It was better for him that way, that sort of obscurity. He finished his water and stood quietly, moving away from them for the moment to go and get a refill. Water, the life-giving substance he cherished over all other drink. Water, the thing he'd twice been criticized for--once publicly so--in as few days. Part of him wanted to ask Olan about work, as she was a pilot. That status meant she might have connections to get him a more preferable income, particularly since she didn't seem the type to be involved in the sordid affairs of the Underside. He wouldn't ask, though--not with their current standing. He was convinced after their meeting here that she distrusted him, feared him, or both. In either case, that did not make good grounds to ask about work. Ah well. He glanced again in the direction Olan's pursuers had gone, and lingered at the bar a moment with his drink in hand before turning back to his "companions". (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=| SHE was prone to misunderstandings because she was still trying to learn how to read people-- space and other ships she could do, people... not so much. Not in this context. Cross cleared it up for her though, the mistake about there being anything between the two guys and she immediately felt like a total flat-scan. The down side to a bottle is it was harder to hide behind considering the small mouth and long neck but she slumped a little and took a drink anyway if only to keep her mouth from saying what was on her mind. Cross spoke of tolerance and she side-glanced the moving Stryker until Jai was turning another question to her. Red brows arched long before her peridot eyes swung over his darker complexion and more matured visage with a small smirk of her mouth. |=-"You taste my name like a Wingo shat on your tongue Crow?.... I fly an H-Class mid-size long-hauler, at least until my next job. It'll be a lot bigger then, modified just for me and my pilot-port."-=| Damn him for getting her talking, it was already out of her mouth and Olan had the conversation enough times to know there was a big chance he was going to ask-- not many knew what it was. Her expression said shit before the word escaped her mouth-- yeah she was that transparent and couldn't help it. |=-" Need a refill?"-=|She glanced up at Jai like she was just asking what she was asking to change the subject but subconsciously wanted to look at him before she decided the explanation was best to walk away from. Maybe he'd let it go and she wouldn't need to feel like a freak before she hauled ass out of there. |=-[d]
A Vestige Within: He'd have to ask that man sometime why he preferred to drink water. But he wasn't going to out him at the moment. He hardly seemed like the sharing type after all. Jai was still keeping a close eye on him either way. The man was either very predictable or very unpredictable. That's because it's not a flattering name, brat. Maybe he'd come up with a nickname for her. He already had a Goggles for Captain Maddox. She knew what he was going to ask next and proposing a refill to his drink wasn't going to divert his hawk-like attentions. "What's this job you got coming up eh? You hauling something big? Don't worry, I'm not going to try and steal your work. I'm a shit pilot. And my ship's a pile of junk. I doubt he's capable of snatching your work away either." Once again assuming, but since Stryker didn't say more than one word at a time he figured he'd at least suggest what he thought to be the truth just to make Olan more pliable. He glanced from her face down to the bottle with a small grin and shook his head no. Answer first... . (D)
Castian Grey: Having been a pilot himself, though never of anything so large for more than a few minutes during a raid, Castian was genuinely impressed by the woman's matter-of-fact response to the question of her ship. He looked at her again as he approached the table adjacent to theirs, this time a look of appraisal. For one so small, there was a certain irony that she would pilot such a large vessel, but it was not unheard of. Returning to his seat in silence, he never stopped listening to their conversation, nor did he cease in his observation. He'd seen her visible dismay at having said too much, though he was not sure himself why she felt she had said more than she wanted. Except the comment about a pilot port, though he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He'd heard his former master mention one a time or two, but it was always in passing and never in a conversation with Castian. Jai's way with words and questions amused him; in spite of herself, the woman hadn't bolted yet, but he clearly seemed to be ensuring that he kept her on edge. Secretly, Castian pondered if the other man was trying to put him on edge as well. No matter. He didn't respond in any way regarding whether he was capable of snatching her work up. Instead, he just sat in vigilant silence; the occasional glance was given to see if there was any sign of those men return, as he truly expected they might... but it was only ever a glance. He much preferred watching those who were actually present. (Done)
Prodigal Aviator: -=| NOT the question she thought he'd ask which was why she looked relieved and amused despite his decline of the refill. In an attempt not to nurse herself into a stupor she set that bottle on the table top and leaned away from it and against the back of her chair dropping her hands in her lap. It was impossible not to notice Stryker taking up the table next to theirs and observing them but she tried her best to look like she didn't notice-- which was a fail at anything but obvious avoidance. She didn't want to look at Cross-- well, she did but that was the point, which meant she didn't look at him long even as she answered. Finding things to look at that wasn't either man. |=-" An Expedition to the outter rings... and I wasn't worried, I can tell you're not a pilot and neither is he."-=| Perhaps the only profession she could pick up, though Skylar(Stryker), to her, wasn't a pilot either. Thawnolan looked up at the Hunter with the same factually of her statement, wrapped in a softness of her amusement. Like it was funny to think either of them could steal that job from her. Yes, when it came to flying she was an arrogant little cuss though with reason. It didn't last long though, the look, because he intimidated her in more ways than one and it was just safer not to look right?|=-[d]
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