Good Intentions
2/11/2014 08:26 AM Logfile from Serenity.
Tromping down the stairs from the aft into the cargo bay, Trent stretches his arms wide with a glance around. "There's something unsettling," he notes, almost as an aside and presumably to himself, "About being on the ground. Moreover, about being under a roof." Clearly, he's not very fond of sitting still for too long on a world like Persephone. Still, there's always the fact that Sink's yard is well guarded against trespassers, which is one minor comfort. Wandering towards the cargo ramp, he peers down it curiously, noticing little in the way of mooring clamps, random hoses, tools or technicians. With a shrug, he reaches into his coat, pulling free his cigarettes so he might tap a single free in order to perch it loosely between his lips. "I do think I've had enough of this world," he murmurs, again, for his own sake, even as he produces his lighter in order to spark a flame to life.
Morning has waned towards the middling hours. Rather than find breakfast made and waiting in the crew area this morning, what was there was a pan of fresh cinnamon rolls and a note:
Fend for yourselves, folks! ~Ness
A different morning than what's previously been the case for this fine little ship. On the run, and looking as though she's been in the process of said run for quite some time, Vanessa has returned to the ship after leaving fairly early in the morning. Reaching the lowered cargo bay ramp, she stops there, a bit sweaty and winded. Running does that to a person, after all. In her left hand is held a bubble-wrap envelope of a fair size, though the way she holds it prevents it from being seen as to the address where it's from. Lifting her right hand, she brushes a few stray locks of her hair from her face, tucking them away behind one of her ears for the time being. She wrinkles her nose slightly, then wipes her fingers against the shorts she's wearing.
Settled on the part of the ramp that disappears into the mouth of the ship, is Hayden. Laid back into one of those lounge chairs that people often used to bask in the sun pool side, this one has certainly seen better days. Patched up a few times with what is probably something similar to duct tape, she's stationed it so that she can get some sun. As she hears tramping boots and Trent's words, "Are you ever content?" She asks, adjusting her shorts and t-shirt, resettling into the chair. Raising up the pair of sunglasses and squinting, she nods to the XO's arrival, "Ma'am." Settling the dark lenses back onto her nose.
"The day I discover contentment Hayden," Trent offers, even as he lights his cigarette with a deep drag, "Is the day you find a new job," the young Captain replies. "Mostly cause we'll all be dead, or I'll be retired, fat and happy." Still, somehow he doesn't see that last part actually being the case. Shifting his attention to Vanessa, he tilts his head curiously, eyeing the woman pointedly. "I wondered where you got off to," he muses. "And frankly, I still do," he notes, even as he exhales a tuft of blue-gray smoke. "What in the world pulled you out of bed so early and made you run?" he asks, his attention dropping to the envelope she carries curiously. it's only then that he quirks a brow, staring at the back of Hayden's head. "You know... You can call her Vanessa. We're not really the Ma'am, Sir, or Captain types," he insists, even as he flips his ash down the ramp. Suddenly, the disrepair of her chair is a mighty tempting target. Turn-about is fair play.
Vanessa's gaze turns to Hayden, and she gives a nod of greeting, a small smile touching at the corners of her lips. "G'mornin'," she offers. Shifting her weight a bit, she turns her attention over to Trent, and then she rolls her right shoulder in a shrug of sorts. "Retired doesn't happen often from cargo work," she comments, a thoughtful note to her voice. She studies Trent for a long moment, and a hint of a smile returns to her features. "I wanted to run. It's something I do. Consider it like a hobby, if you will," she muses, inclining her head slightly towards him. Then she looks to Hayden and gives a nod to her. "Oh, aye... Vanessa's just fine to call me by," she offers. Then she looks back to Trent. "Besides, I had something to pick up this morning," she adds, waving the envelope a little to indicate it. Shifting her weight, she starts to head up the ramp of the ship and into the cargo bay.
Thankfully, should your spiteful nature exert itself, she doesn't have nearly as far to fall. Wiggling her toes in the warmth of the early sun, "While in my head I do have a whole list of names to call you, none are proper so I will stick with Captain until the moment deems something different necessary." She pauses to brush aside a bit of hair, tucking it behind her ear. "And if the XO wishes to be called something else, I'm sure she will tell me so." A lazy drawing of her arms up, settling them behind her head. And as if on cue, Vanessa says just that and a rather cheshire smile touches Hayden's lips, "See, she told me." With a drop of her hand to the glasses, she lifts them to watch the other woman step by her, blindly pointing to the space behind her that contains Trent, "And you, I don't like having you behind me." She slides her feet apart, raising up into a stand from the lounger and twisting to turn and look at him, as if expecting to find him mid some dastardly deed.
With a chuckle, Trent nods his agreement, a smile lifting his cigarette with a bobble. "That was kinda my point," he notes in reference to retirement. But clearly, he and the XO still consider themselves to be in different lines of business -- This is just Trent's day job. "Running isn't a hobby," he finally notes between puffs on his cigarette. "Running is a personal form of torture, or what you do when you're all outta ammo," he intones matter of factly. Stepping with care down the ramp as quietly as possible, he's already snaked a hand out, aiming for a strip of duct tape that seems to hold two sections of hayden's raggedy chair together in the back. Caught in the middle of said dastardly deed once she stands up, he simply smiles, before glancing down at his outstretched hand. Choosing instead to lift that hand so that he might run his fingers through his messy hair, he acts completely innicent, like a cat that's knocked things off the shelf while looking you in the eye. "So, did you get mail?" he asks of Vanessa with a chuckle, barely eyeing Hayden sidelong one last time. "Fucking Space-Ninja," he murmurs under his breath.
Vanessa tilts her head a little to one side as she listens to Hayden, and she quirks a smile and chuckles softly, clearly finding amusement somewhere in the conversation. She rolls her shoulders in a smooth shrug, her blue eyes showing a sparkle to them. "Well, you might not think of running as a hobby, but I do. I enjoy it, and it's exercise, besides," she comments, a smile returning to her features. She raises an eyebrow slightly at his attempt at dastardliness, and then she shakes her head a bit. Then she gives a nod. "Unless an envelope means I got something other than mail, then yes... I've got mail. Though it's not so much for me as it is for the ship, really," She comments, her eyes showing a sparkle to them. It's a surprise, apparently, since she's not readily telling what's in the package.
Those green eyes, they narrow and Hay lifts her chin slightly, using that disapproving look that women are born knowing how to do. A soft purse of her lips and she steps away from the raggedy chair, moving to the end where she flips it up. With that single, simple motion the chair snaps together with a rattling that is a little disarming, ending in a square, sorta. The broken bits that have been patched ruin the once perfect geometry. Reaching down, she grabs it up and sets it just inside the cargo bay. Leaning towards Trent, there is the subtle smell of sweat on her skin, "La vengeance est un plat qui se mange froid." She murmurs to him, the words sounding rather serious but that wink that follows it, makes it hard to tell if she's threatening him or whispering sweet nothings. Turning towards the XO, "Oh, a surprise." She deducts, "For the ship..." She taps her lip thoughtfully with her fingers, "Interesting." She drawls out the word playfully. "It's not bigger than a breadbox." She says, casting a glance at the envelope the XO holds.
Quirking oddly, Trent can't help but raise an eyebrow. "So... The ship got mail?" he asks curiously. "Was it from the shipyard that built her?" he asks, confused. "Dear Thunderchild, happy 'you exploded from a mechanical vagina day..." he murmurs wryly, before again eyeing Hayden. "God that was sexy," he admits with a slick smile. "Which tells me it wasn't at all nice." Waving the younger woman off, he returns his curious gaze to Vanessa and her envelope, specifically moving to join her. At the least there's SOME mystery to her. "So... It's for the ship and it's in an envelope," he reasons, trying to work it out. "Nope..." he finally admits. "I've got nothing." Shrugging he simply waits expectantly, somehow imagining she's enjoying driving him nuts with it. Redheads on this boat seem to use that for sport.
The look that Hayden gives Trent is one that Vanessa is familiar with. She chuckles softly, lifting her right hand to brush a bit of hair from her face. She raises an eyebrow slightly at the use of French, unfamiliar with the language and so not understanding what the words mean. Then she laughs lightly and gives a nod to Hayden. "Aye, a surprise for the ship," she comments, a smile coming to her features. "It's a pretty small surprise, but an important one," she muses. The envelope is a couple of inches thick, and about the width and length of a regular sheet of paper. Her attention shifts back to Trent, and she blinks at him before giving a slight shudder. "That's a disturbing mental image. Thanks for that, really," she comments, then wrinkles her nose a bit. "It wasn't from the shipyard that built her. But it does need to be installed here in the cargo bay," she muses. Stepping over to a locker, she opens it to withdraw a small toolbox, and then she heads over to one of the cargo bay walls. There, she opens the tool box and rummages a bit to find the appropriately required tool, and then she opens the envelope. One piece of hard plastic is withdrawn from it, and she makes sure it's facing the right way before securing it to the wall.
As Trent turns to Vanessa and her envelope, she slips a hand into the pocket of her shorts and draws out a slim cigarette case. Going through the ritual of withdrawing one slim cancer stick and lighting it up, she watches the pair from behind those dark sunglasses. "We know you have nothing, that's not what's in question. What's in question is, what's in the envelope." She remarks with a gentle exhale of smoke. Watching Vanessa, she steps closer to see what it is she's doing. "Did you buy the ship a tail light, one of those kind with the outline of the woman on it?" She asks. Of course, from her tone it's obvious she's joking. "Is it like one of those electronic dog fences, so when Trent leaves the ship, it shocks him?" She feigns shaking, as if shocked. "Because -that- would be cool, because anyone who talks about mechanical vaginas, should be quarantined from other people."
Smirking at Hayden, Trent merely rolls his eyes at the younger woman, choosing for once not to offer much in the way of complaint, lest he might justify her teasing. "A mechanical vagina might be one I actually get close to," he murmurs, even as he turns his attention back to his Executive Officer and the plastic plaque she's posting on the bulkhead. Suddenly, curiosity truly takes him over as he moves to follow so that he might actually inspect it and the things printed upon it. "Oh Gos-Se... (Oh shit)" he murmurs, his face suddenly pale, even despite the remaining hints of bruise left on his left cheek. "Uh... That's," he offers, trailing off as he considers what she's done. "That's fantastic," he finally offers with a forced smile, clearly upset about something. "Vanessa..." he starts to complain, but thinks better of his immediate reaction. "Oh, Vanessa..." he mutters with a sigh.
At Hayden's words, Vanessa can't help but to give a light laugh at her teasing of Trent. A good camaraderie is important to have between crewmates, and it seems like the newest member is fitting in well. Then she tilts her head to one side, quirking a smile. "Ah, well... maybe next time I'll have to get a tail-light for it," she comments, her blue eyes showing a sparkle to them. She finishes up with installing the first of the licenses that she'd purchased for the ship. She brushes off her right hand on her outer thigh, and then she frowns at Trent's reaction, her brow furrowing as she looks over to him, studying him. That he's upset about it is fairly obvious. She sets aside the tool onto the tool box, and then she crosses her arms in front of her and leans back against the ship's wall behind her. "You might as well go ahead and say whatever it is that you're thinking. You're clearly not happy about it," she points out in a matter-of-fact sort of tone, her shoulders lowering and her attitude significantly changed from when she'd first come back to the ship with her package.
She looks towards Trent, opens her mouth and then stops short of retorting something about a mechanical vagina. Instead, she takes another drag of her smoke, "Why are you acting like a girl who got a valentine from the wrong cute boy?" This to Trent, tilting her head, looking between the license, the XO and the captain. "That means we're legal, right?" She motions to what Vanessa just put on the cargo bay. Maybe there's something she doesn't understand about all this, she's just not sure. Trent's reaction has clearly thrown her off. "This is supposed to be good news, Captain." She nods towards Vanessa, clearing agreeing with what she said. Wthout really thinking about it, she crosses her arms in a mirror image of what Vanessa just did. Now if one of them starts tapping their foot, he's a doomed, doomed man. Then, as if struck by a bolt of lightening, she blinks and pushes the sunglasses up to sit atop her head, "Are you sour grapes because she did it instead of you?" She makes a guess, and could be completely wrong.
Now adding 'eaten by guilt' to the range of emotions that flow through him, Trent raises his hands in immediate surrender. "No, no," he offers simply. "Look, what you did was very thoughtful," he offers sincerely, the shake of his head an attempt to dismiss the sudden storm cloud he's filled the bay with. Pausing, he shoots a glare back at Hayden in silence, fire lit in his eyes. "Bizui," he murmurs pointedly at the younger woman, his features stern and not at all joking. And if that requires translation, it works out to 'Shut up'. Shaking his head and drawing a deep breath, he approaches the woman he calls XO and more pointedly, the woman he adores beyond life itself to reach out and touch her cheek with his right hand. "Look. I know how much these cost," he offers first and foremost, a genuine smile cracking the corners of his lips. "Honestly, it's very thoughtful." Searching her eyes, he seems to be debating something and is clearly unsure on how to approach it. "I just wish you hadn't spent the money, or maybe spoke with me first. I could have helped," he offers, choosing for the moment to avoid the part that scares the shit out of him. "I just worry that in the future, having registered the ship in my name may bite us, hard," he explains. "It may bite you."
Vanessa's gaze turns to Hayden, and she gives a small nod. "Aye, it means we're legal. It, combined with the other one that's for cargo hauling," she says quietly, rolling her right shoulder in a shrug. The licenses were supposed to be good news for the future of the ship, a way of keeping the Alliance from finding any kind of fault with their business. Lifting her left hand, she rubs her fingers over her right upper arm. She doesn't, at least for the moment, start tapping one of her feet. Though it may or may not be far off from happening. She snorts softly, then shakes her head faintly, looking down. "'Very thoughtful' was just exactly what I was aiming for, too," she says quietly. Shifting her weight, she unfolds her arms and lifts a hand to idly push his hand away from her cheek. She lifts her gaze to meet his briefly, then shrugs and steps away from the wall, perhaps feeling trapped there. "The cost is kinda irrelevant. The money's spent, and it was the best use for it to have. I had enough money for it, if that's the part that bothers you about it," she says. "We don't know the future. And if something comes to bite me, or others on the crew? Then I'll gorram bite it the fuck back," she states, the words an odd mix of both hot and cold. She leaves the package where it lays on the floor of the cargo bay, with the cargo license still inside of it, and she starts to cross to the ramp of the ship, to head off.
Kyronis arrives from Thunderchild - Crew Area. Kyronis has arrived.
Hayden blinks, as if slapped, and the playful banter comes to a sudden stop in light of this... moment. Without a word, as the Captain approaches Vanessa in move to touch her, Hayden turns away and for just a second she looks as if she is trying to find somewhere else to be or something else to do. Lacking that, she turns as if to head back to her cabin. That's about the time Vanessa speaks and she takes a sideways step towards the exit that would take her further into the ship, watching the woman with curiosity. Probably to keep her expression, her thoughts to herself, as they often convey so easily in those green eyes she tucks the glasses down over her gaze again. Arms still crossed, she shakes her head. "Sah Gwa." (fool) She mutters, which to most needs no interpretation, the way she says it, explains it enough. "Maybe instead of 'very thoughtful' you should have gone with 'Thank you'. And you might wanna finish what she started." She points to the yet as unposted cargo licence in the envelope, where Vanessa left it. With that, she turns, heading inside the ship.
Like a shadow, Kyronis steps into the open hatchway that leads to the crew commons. He takes only a step forward, then folds his forearms onto the railing so that he can lean there. He's been awake for hours -- he always wakes early, and so it's perhaps no great surprise that he appears. He's not in the way, and with the gathering of folks in the cargo bay, he merely takes the opportunity to watch, surveyind them all. And listening.
Visibly wincing as if in pain, Trent wipes his face with his right hand, going so far as to spit the almost spent, smouldering cigarette butt that hung between his lips out in disgust. While he might normally snap back at Hayden for the way she scolds him, he can't help but look ashamed. Understanding the younger woman is right, he really can't help the fact he's incredibly paranoid. Maybe this is as good of a time as any to explain why. "They killed her," he offers simply enough at the elder, retreating redhead. "She's not in prison, she wasn't bound on trumped up weapon charges. They killed her in cold blood infront of me, right before they tried to put me under." Turning to march to the cargo manifest pedistal, he slaps the cargo ramp's mechanism, forcing it to yawn closed so Vanessa can't escape that way. "They'll kill you, too," he notes matter of factly. "Registering this ship in my name didn't just put me at risk. We can't hide from them, if they REALLY want to try to find us and I'm afraid this just made it that much easier." Folding his arms at his chest, he suddenly goes all doom and gloom. "You're dead, I'm dead, Hayden is dead. We all are." Watching Vanessa, his tilts his head. "Horance William Trent the Second and Horace William Trent are respectively, the Governor of Londinium and a sitting member of Parliament," he explains finally. "The former is my Father. And he wants me with a powerful vengeance. The prodigal son stole from him and that can't sit. Blood isn't nearly as thick as water in this case." With a sigh, he loosens his hands to shove them in his pockets, never for a moment taking his eyes off the woman. "I stole a /considerable/ sum, in an attempt to save Perdita," he explains. "The amount was irrelevant, what's important, is their kind doesn't care about 'little people'. You are an afterthought." Nevermind that it was slightly more than a couple hundred thousand... "Right now, the core worlds and even some of the border worlds are likely occupied by underworld contract killers, who would /love/ the bounty on my head. And they won't spare you." Briefly looking back at the retreating Hayden, he shakes his head. "It wouldn't shock me if more than on is on this particular rock. Why do you think I try so hard to dock us in places that're protected? Why do you think I never registered a contact ID on the 'tex? Why do you think I've tried, since we met, to run black market goods with no questions asked?" he points out. "I'm not gonna let others suffer for my indiscretions," he finally notes with a shrug. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, I really am. And I thank you very much for what you did. But I do the things I do, on purpose."
