The Captain's Chair aka First Scene
Grumbling, Trent wanders down the open ramp of the Thunderchild, weilding in hand a spanner. "Other Captains don't have to go secure the 'Go taso de' buffer panels," (Dog Fucking) he murmurs back over his shoulder at no one in particular. "It's not bloody dignified!" he screams back up the ramp in frustration... Not that anyone is listening. Still, he does diligently move to the underbelly of the gray craft, seeming to go through the steps of doing the job at hand, even if he is distracted. At the least here, under the boat, he's not being soaked by the rains that have poured down on Paquin since some damned fools decided to blow up one of its moons. Even as he fixes the head of the spanner to one of the connecting bolts, Trent digs into his jacket to fetch his cigarettes one handed so that he can shake a single to the top. With some measure of skill, he catches it between his lips as he absently wrenches the spanner, leaving it to dangle there, bobbing between his whispered curses unlit. "I can hire a real mechanic," he mumbles, clearly peeved at someone at the moment.
"You could..." A female voice drawls thoughtfully, "But are you going to? Because it sounds to me like you take great delight in complain' about doing the work. Some people like to complain, but you... you sound like you take real joy in it." She probably came about sometime after you settled yourself under the belly of the ship to fix the buffer panel. She's holding a rather beaten but still doing it's job umbrella, keeping her dry from the rain. The boots that give her an inch or so, are probably a bit muddy, a bit dirty and there's a bulky backpack on her shoulders that, with the right push, would probably end her like a turtle on it's shell. To the very careful eye, the worn sweater that is atop her t-shirt looks a little...bulky too. "Also, I would offer you a light..." She shifts the umbrella in her hands, digs into a cargo pants pocket and takes out an old lighter, "But this so close to the ship, I don't want to blow anythin' up." A shrug of her shoulders and a tilt of her head, a smile lighting up her eyes the whole time.
Given the fact his back was turned to the walkway that leads in from the compound proper, Trent isn't exactly expecting someone to sneak up on him. Which is precisely why with a clatter, the spanner drops to the asphalt of the landing pad with a metallic clang and moreover, he slams the top of his head into the belly of his boat. "AIYA!" he screams, his right hand instantly finding the top of his head to rub it fiercely. "Tai-kong suo-yo duh shing-chiou sai-jin wuh duh pee-goo..." he streams out in a colorful mandarin curse. (Shove all the planets in the universe up my ass...) Turning, he eyes the woman curiously for a moment, one slender brow quirking up as he considers her and her 'interesting' state of dress. "There's a certain artform to it," he admits. Most likely, he just really enjoys cursing. "So... What? Are you some kinda quiet freak, or are you a deadly deadly space ninja in an obvious disguise as to assuage suspicion?" he asks pointedly, that unlit cigarette still bobbing with his every word. His inflection /reeks/ of the core, but the slight twang he's adopted is clearly intended to counter that. It really doesn't matter if it succeeds or not. Either way, his Mandarin is flawless in pronunciation. "The Child's got no fuel leaks," he finally allows, reaching up to pat the belly of his ship, even as he continues to eye the young woman. "So go ahead and light me, or make yourself useful and secure these gorram panels," he muses with a saccharine sweet smile.
"Do I get to choose, because if I do, I would rather be a space ninja." She quips, after she's swallowed the laughter of watching you attempt to straighten up under the belly of the ship and colorfully remark on hitting your head in the process. Stepping closer, she thumbs the wheel on the lighter, and gives that bobbing cigarette a chance at becoming a real, live, burning cancer stick. "Unfortunately, I ain't a mechanic." Her own inflection is hard to pinpoint, obviously from her laughter she understood your Mandarin without flaw, but she seems to flow from Core to Rim, depending on what exactly it is she's sayin'. It ends in this sort of graceful flip of words that could be earmarked as all her own. "But I did come in response to an add." There is a pause, as if remembering, "But you don't look much like a Vanessa, but from what you called the ship, this is the righ' ship." The lighter is palmed and put back into her pocket. She nudges the panel with her foot, "I bet that smile gets you pretty far." Head tilted down to the ship part, giving you a sideways glance, her tongue flickering over the lower lip piercing she has.
Quirking a brow curiously at the woman, Trent leans himself down so he can light his cigarette, his first deep drag flaring its tip into a brilliantly glowing orange ember. Only after a heartbeat does he exhale, a cloud of blue-gray smoke drifting off into the breeze. "Trust me, not as far as I might want, and often far further than I'd bet on," he replies in reference to his smile. One might get the sense that that mouth, smile or no, can get the young Captain into plenty of trouble. A certain redhead tends to resist it sufficiently enough, anyway -- Present company not included. "Ah, right. I'd almost forgotten about that ad," he admits, even as he plucks the smoulder cigarette from between his lips with his left hand, his right raised to smear grease across the back of his neck absently. "If you've come about the Thunderchild," he admits, "You found us, Congratulations. You're a damned fine tracker. But you need to know, I've already got a warrior-woman and a trained Ape-man for security," he explains. "What I really need is someone that can stay alive, while patching up me and mine." he pauses after, eyeing the woman again. "Course, you look the sort to not shy away from a little bloodshed, even when it's not fun," he muses, clearly unfraid to flirt in his own special way. Finally stooping himself over, he hefts up the spanner in hand so that he can palm it, twirling it like a favored sidearm... Until it clatters back down to the asphalt, anyway. Peering at it, then back at the young woman, his expression is best described as 'Meant to do it!'
She watches you play with the ship part, nodding her head as if to think over what you've said. If she finds amusement in the drop of the panel, she mostly hides it. "Mmmm, well..." She drawls again, thoughtfully. "I could probably do that. Do you have a place to patch up said folks on this..." She looks up to the ship, "Fine... fine boat of yours?" Is there a touch of sarcasm in that? Maybe, just an inkling. Watching you for a moment longer, she steps around the ship as if to get a better look at it. Or maybe she's looking at your ass, hard to tell. "I dropped out of medical school, but I can patch up most things without scarrin' some too much." She grins a bit, tugging the worn sweater around her some, "Besides, scars are sexy." She shifts the umbrella from hand to other hand, digs into her pocket and pulls out a slim cigarette case, getting her own cancer stick out to light it. "How much does it pay?" She asks, exhaling the words in a plume of smoke.
Fisher disembarks from the Thunderchild. Fisher has arrived.
Eyeing Hayden while she... 'compliments' his 'fine, fine boat', Trent quirks a lopsided little grin, his eyes almost turning to slits. "Eeeeeasy," he murmurs, even as he lifts his cigarette for another drag. "Yeah, we've got the facilities a Doc needs," he replies in the affirmative. "And we're not afraid to keep you stocked. To be honest," he admits, a soft shrug rolling his right shoulder, his left hanging limp, "I really hope you don't get much of a chance to practice the trade. But somehow, I doubt it, given this crew and my mouth." The admission, given his expression, is completely honest. "At the very least, you might be patching me up after the Exec of the boat kicks my ass." He pauses, his brow woirking at his own words. "Regularly." Finally bending over to pick up the spanner AGAIN, he gains an awkward expression, his brow shooting up once more. "Wait. You dropped out of medical school AND you think scars are sexy?" he asks, suddenly unsure. "You know, I've tried to convince Nessie of the same, given the woman can't be doped, that tends to leave a nice scar or two, but... How many folks have you lost?" he's forced to ask. For the moment, the question of pay goes unanswered.
Maybe it's a sincere reaction, because as his eyes narrow, her eyes respond in the like before she turns and treads her way back towards him. "Lovers quarrels, not really my speciality unless your special brand of kink is her a'shootin' you. Or the 'verse of that. Either way." Now comes from her a shrug. "I can probably manage it." Another drag on her cigarette, the umbrella catching some of the smoke and curling it beneath the dome for a few moments before it dissipates. At the mention of how many people she's lost, she gives pause. Oh, Buddha, is she...counting? Fingers tap on the length of the umbrella shaft she holds. Clicking her tongue, she hasn't spoken yet, then turns to look at Trent. "None, yet." She says at last, flashing a rather toothy smile. "On purpose doesn't count right?" A flutter of lashes, it still lends an unsettling vision on that youthful, pretty face. Especially in combination with that wolfish smile. "You worried I'm goin' ta kill all your crew?" A step closer, as he fiddles with the panel. "Worried I'm goin' ta accidentally make you a ghost, Captain?" Amusement sparkles in those deep green eyes. "And you didn't answer my question."
It's the sound of voices that draws Fisher, looking as if he'd just woken up, out of the proverbial deep dark cave of Thunderchild's bridge. And as is common practice by this point he doesn't pass in the vicinity of hte kitchen without grabbing a beer. The pilot pauses at the top of the ramp to take in the relatively fresh air, something of a novelty for someone used to breathing the recycled variety, before pitching the bottle cap vaguely in the direction of not-the-ship. He ambles his way down the ramp to come to rest near his captain, offering, "Captain," in the way of a greeting, but his eyes are on the young woman he's conversing with. "This the medic you mentioned?"
Hooking his thumbs in his gunbelt, his bright blue eyes locked on the young woman before himself, Trent can't help the crooked little grin he wears. "Nope, I didn't answer your question," he agrees. "Guess that makes me a bit of a tease," he offers in a goodly mannered way. Only when the sound of footsteps fall behind him on the ramp does the Captain glance sidelong at his pilot, a nod offered in response. "Fish," he murmurs politely in reply. "Well, this is /a/ medic," he grudgingly affirms, "Can't say if she's /the/ medic or not." He again returns his attention to the woman thoughtfully, considering her curiously. "Lovers quarrel," he repeats with a soft chuckle. "God help us all if the Loch Ness hears you say that," he muses, the shake of his head clearly tickled. As to the topic of killing his crew, or moreover, himself, Trent shrugs simply enough. "Been dead once before, just never quite gave up the ghost. And honey, I'm more worried about what the crew might do to you," he admits with that far too sweet smile his pale lips easily slide into. At last, remembering his manners, he goes to introduce the newcomer. "Fisher Huges, this is..." he pauses, realizing he hasn't even caught the woman's name. "What do you go by, Space Ninja?" he asks curiously.
As the new man appears, she leans to look past Trent who is currently taking up her view with his presence. "I'm guessing that if she hears you refer to her as a beast who lives in the muck of a lake, she's going ta like you even less." She says, rather quietly, straightening as the conversation returns to something a little more somber. "I'm well adept at patching myself up as well." She is taking him quite seriously, "Although, I prefer to keep the face pretty." Pointing to said face with the hand that is not holding her umbrella, but her cancer stick, before taking another drag. As Fisher is introduced, she tucks the burning smoke between her lips, offering her hand to the man, "Hayden. Hayden Louvel." Said around the smoke, despite the obstruction to her speech, the last name has a distinct French sound to it for those with the ear. If Fish takes her hand, the shake a gentle motion, her hand rather smooth and soft, if a bit damp from the weather."Are you going to tease me some more, or are we going to get down to the dirty business? Because..." She looks over each shoulder, "I appear to be the only applicant around."
"Oh," Fish murmurs in response to Trent, before adding, "Didn't know there was a medic competition." A smile eases across his features as he adds, "She gets my vote." When introduced, Fish's smile changes character to be the more pleasant-conversational variety. He accepts the offered hand and shakes it lightly, offering, "Pleased to meet you." It's a bit formal, especially coming from Fish, but that's likely attributable to lack of alcohol content in his bloodstream. This thought process having lead to its inevitable conclusion, Fish tips the bottle in his other hand in an attempt to counteract the deleterious effects of sobriety. At which point he raises the bottle in suggestion to Hayden and his boss and asks, "Anybody want a beer?"
Eyeing Fish, Trent cracks a broad grin. "Huh," he murmurs, almost surprised at the man's endorsement. Waving off the offer of a beer, he finally returns his attention to the woman, another shrug rolling his right shoulder. "There seems to be a bit of blood in Fish'es liquor stream," he notes playfully. "Otherwise, he might remember we keep the other applicants stowed away in the bay for consideration," he intones matter-of-factly. "Besides, you struck me as the sort've girl that likes to be teased," he admits. "But I'll remember: Not in the face." Finally loosening a hand to pluck the cigarette from between his lips so he can flip it off into the rain, the man simply considers the woman for a moment thoughtfully. "Well, Miss Kayden Louvel, I'm Edison Trent. And my Exec, her name is Vanessa Kaeriani. You're gonna need to talk to her yet, of course, but if it's dirty business you like, I figure I'm game. I'll offer you what I offer all the crew," he explains, even as he again hooks the thumb of his right hand back into his gun belt. "You get a private bunk, you get real food, we don't do rations on this boat. You get equipment once you've earned it." He pauses then, his head tilting at her, "As for pay... We're a new boat, but we contract with a particularly wealthy rancher. It keeps the boat fueled and repaired and even puts a few creds in your pocket weekly. We can negotiate that sum if we decide to take you on. Oh..." he pauses, offering the woman a wide smile, "Should we happen to come into extra funds from more exciting work, I'll give you the same cut I give everyone else, ten percent. If you're just here for the pay though?" he suggests, that hand again loosening so his index finger can point back at the path that leads to the landing pad, "Might I suggest the Alliance is always looking for a good Purple Belly."
Hayden winks at Fish, a saucy little gesture, as he says that she has his vote. "See, one vote in my favor already." She takes the last drag of her smoke and flicks it out, smothering it beneath her boot toe. Shifting the backpack on her shoulders, adjusting the straps, she tucks a bit of errant hair behind her ear, "I will almost never refuse alcohol." As the beer is offered. Her attention is turned to Trent as he speaks now, pursing her lips with thought as he rattles off his words. A slow nod, without thinking she hooks her hand on the gun hidden, sort of, under the fall of sweater and shirt. A deep inhale, as if it's really going to push her mental limits to think all this over, but as she exhales, "You had me at no rations." She remarks, "That is, of course, being that you don't find some uppity doctor whose willin' to fly and keep their mouth shut with what I can only ascertain is a bawdy bunch." A slow grin, "Can't say I'm not disappointed I don't get to share ma' bunk with one of you cuties, but it will be nice to have a place of my own." She looks at Fish, "So, beer?"
The pilot finishes the last of his beer while the captain delivers his rather thorough pitch. Once empty the bottle is set just off the ramp, then Fish speaks up. "THe XO is a damned fine cook," he praises, adding the one piece of potentially useful information that might sweeten the deal onto the pile. When he's winked at Fish offers a tip of the metaphorical hat to the lady, smile restored once more, before he turns and heads back up the ramp in search of alcohol. Not that it's much of a search. With a habit like his - and he would sternly disapprove of anything more strongly worded than 'habit' - he's already laid out several stashes despite his short time on the boat. He returns a moment later with two cold bottles, caps discarded as with the first, and holds one out to Hayden with the simple answer to her question: "Beer." As to the subject of sharing bunks Fish adds, his smile turned more to grin now, "I'm sure we could arange some negotiation on that count, if you're so inclined."
Cracking a toothy grin, the shake of his head amused, Trent really can't help the almost jealous expression that crosses his features. Sometimes, being the Captain of the boat is harder than he'd imagined. "Okay, okay," he murmurs, breaking up the flirt, "Let's not get carried away." Glancing between his pilot and the 'medic', Trent just stows that particular set of emotions like he should. "So. I figure Nessie should be around any time. Being a woman, I recon you understand the need of hours alone in your bunk," he muses. "I figure we can invite you inside for dinner, thrilling conversation, grueling interrogation and maybe a little tour," he suggests, glancing sidelong at Fish. "Not that there's a lot to the Harpoon, but she is home," he notes, reaching up to once more pat the scortched buffer panels. "Is that all the gear you've got?" he asks curiously, a dip of his chin indicating the pack on the woman's back. "Or do you have a need for someone to run out with the mule?" he asks, somehow sure she travels lightly. "We'll be here a while longer, so there's no huge rush, but we never sit still for too terribly long." Besides, it'll give him a great opportunity to search her out on the cortex...
"And someone who cooks, way to go on sweetening the deal." She smiles, watching Fish head back up the ramp in search of more alcohol. Once he returns she takes the offered drink and laughs at his remark, the amusement a pleasant sound. For his slightly jealous expression, she reaches out to pat Trent on the shoulder, unless he shies away. "I'll keep that in mind, Fisher." Tipping the bottle to her lips, she takes a long drink. Licking the liquid from her lips, "Does the interrogation include some kind of torture, because I really have to be in the mood for that." She quips. "And yes, that's all the gear I have. I left my closet full of fancy clothes and shoes back on my core planet home, you know, along with my half a dozen slaves who dress me each morning." Sarcasm much? She speaks it fluently.
"Yeah, yeah," Fish aims dismissively at his captain, his tone matching the long-soffering expression that shadows his features only briefly. But back to the subject at hand, Fish chimes in, agreeing with the captain, "Not a lot of touring to be done, but dinner tends to be entertaining." He leaves that sentiment as-is, sparhimg himself a back-hand from the Captain for commenting on the nature of tha entertainment. Instead he occupies himself making a solid dent in the contents of his bottle. At the mention of torture he raises an eyebrow, though it's replaced with a laugh at her mention of fancy clothes and slaves. "And she bites," he says in the Captain's direction in an approving tone.
"Not much touring, but plenty of torture, in present company," Trent murmurs, eyeing the pilot again. Wiping the smirk from his face, he smiles brightly, not even remotely shying from the woman's touch. Instead, he just glances at the fingers of that hand, the shake of his head amused. A bro-pat, lovely... "Entertaining," he repeats, clearly amused. "She hasn't even met the ape-man yet," he offers with a chuckle. "Buddha help her," he murmurs under his breath. Considering the woman, he finally thumbs over his shoulder. "Go on, explore, drink, be happy and try not to bite folks too much. They might like that," he offers somewhat pointedly. "Oh, Fish?" he offers, almost as an aiside, "You might want to keep that 'Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze duh ur-tze' (Stupid Son of a Drooling Whore and a Monkey) away from her. God only knows how he's gonna react," he warns with a bright smile. "After getting him laid on Freehold, he's powerful uppity." With that done, he cocks his hips, finally reaching back into his coat to grasp the spanner he'd come out to use originally. Considering the tool, he rolls his eyes, clearly deciding to say fuck it. With that, he turns towards the ramp, considering all the servants (slaves) and wardrobe he'd left on Londinium.
Pat pat, you've just entered the friendzone! At mention of the ape man, she gives Fish a sideways look, perhaps she's using him as her compass on how serious Trent is about this yet, unmet person. A breath is drawn in, exhaled out in a sigh, "Am I going to have to get out the handcuffs for this guy? Because I don't accept surprise gropes in exchange for handshakes." She takes another long sip of the beer. As the Captain motions towards the ship, she nods, finishing off her beer she leans towards him, "Here, something to remember me by." She says, moving to press the empty into his hand. If he takes it, or even if he doesn't, she adjusts her straps and is about to head to the ship ramp, when he makes his remark. "Uppity, hurm? Don't take to uppity so much. And I only bite on request. My teeth marks are like trophies, baby!" Yeah, she's got a bit of swagger in her walk as she heads towards the ramp. As perhaps she hears Trent's footsteps, she casts a glance over her shoulder, "Are you looking at my ass?" She tone is accusatory, before she flashes a grin, "Because you should be."
"BAI-tuo, AN-jing-eedyen," (We will enjoy your silence now) Trent murmurs after the redhead, though, he's forced to briefly look at her ass at the very least. It was a commandment. "You ain't half as cute as you think, Bao bay," (Sweetheart) he muses, the shake of his head clearly somewhat flustered. "Why couldn't I have a crew of very straight laces, not at all 'sly' men?" he asks himself under his breath. "Nooooo, nothing can be that easy, Ed," he murmurs, a scowl settling on his features. With that, he marches up the ramp, sure to keep his eyes glued to the deckplates. As he walks, a vertiable stream of 'colorful' phrases escapes his lips, something to do with the Holy Mother of God and all her wacky nephews.
Edison Trent has left. Edison Trent boards the Thunderchild.
Fish hadn't factored the gorilla into the newly rebalanced crew equation yet. Hadn't even considered.. but as he begins to do so at the captain's prompting, his features reacquire the long-suffering expression. "Yeah," he begins slowly, in response to both of them, "we should maybe see about getting that boy a leash." If only he were exaggerating. Fish dispels the air of impending doom with shrug before speaking again, to Hayden. "He'll be respectful," he reassures, "or he'll be tranq'd and pushed out the nearest airlock." He's willing to give the ape-man a shot at being a normal human being, but he's also prepared should the worst come to pass. Watching the exchange between Trent and Hayden, Fish tips the bottle up one final time, takes a step away to place it neatly in line next to the first, and then turns to mosey back into the ship with the rest. Which, with the right angle, gives the pilot a great view. In response to her question, Fish simply smiles and answers a dutiful, "Yes ma'am."
"I'll be quiet, when you stop cursing like a sailor!" She calls as he marches by her, which means... um, never. She does settle down however, glancing to Fish and stopping long enough so that he is beside her once they are inside, "He's always like that, isn't he?" She asks quietly. "In all seriousness, I don't want to offend him, but he just asks to be pecked at, don't he?" She pulls down the umbrella once she's inside, dropping the hook at the end of the shaft onto one of the straps so her hands are free. A little ruffle of her hair, tugging it back away from her face. "As for the ape man, I might hold you to that if he gets out of control. Of course, I'm just as likely to break his fingers." She says that last part with thoughtfulness. "Makes people think twice, when their brain remembers touching you, and pain. Kinda like trainin' a dog."
Thunderchild - Cargo Bay =>Thunderchild<=
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What the Harpoon calls a cargo bay is almost laughable, when compared to other transports. Cramped, spartan and entirely utilitarian, it doesn't boast any needless niceties that can't easily be stowed away and secured. Its loading ramp, which disembarks towards the aft of the ship, has a rather small manifest console and the associated cargo ramp interlock switches. A docking station for an ATV Mule is located just inside the ramp, against her port bulkhead. Designed to transport a scant 100 tons of cargo, it's clear the class wasn't intended to be a heavy hauler, but more of a fast multi-purpose courier.
Forward in the hold, just before the short ramp that leads to the cockpit is a podium fitted with controls for the ships EVA hatch, along with two such suits hung directly starboard of the ladder that leads topside and subsequently out of said hatch. Lastly, A set of stairs that rise to the aft of the boat lead to the crew commons, all crew quarters and engineering.
[ Disembark Point: Open ]===================================================
Fisher boards the ship from the outside. Fisher has arrived.
Fisher heads through the exit labeled <Aft> Crew Area. Fisher heads onto Thunderchild - Crew Area. Fisher has left.
You head through the exit labeled <Aft> Crew Area. You are entering Thunderchild - Crew Area.
Thunderchild - Crew Area =>Thunderchild<=
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The crew area of this Harpoon has been extensively modified. The floor has been extended to create a balcony overlooking the Cargo Bay, with a waist-high railing instead of a wall, and a gate instead of a door at the staircase on the port side, now the only simple entrance from the Bay below. This balcony now bears the couch that previously was further aft, with a holographic vidscreen housed in the ceiling which projects its images before the couch when in use, conveniently out of the way when not needed.
The starboard wall houses a kitchen, equipped with refrigerator, a freezer, a four-element stovetop, an oven, a sink and a counter for food preparation. Cabinets above contain dishes, cups, and wares ready for use, while those below contain staples and nonperishable ingredients for various meals. This is all uncomfortably close to a table surrounded by eight straight-back chairs. Storage lockers are propped against the port wall, near a short hallway that leads to Crew Cabins 1 and 2.
Further aft, the Doctor's Bed has been set up, with tracks in the ceiling and floor where curtains can cordon off the area surrounding it. There are six doors here, one leading to the lavatory to port, one leading starboard to the Captain's Quarters, another to a supply closet on the staboard wall, and further aft, as the room narrows to merely a corridor, there is a door on each side leading to more Crew Quarters, this time Cabins 3 and 4. The final door, smaller than normal but heavily reinforced, is at the end of this corridor and leads to the Engine Room.
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Fish can only laugh at Hayden's riposte as he catches up. The grin that remains suits his response to her question, which begins simply, "Yep." A simple, honest assessment, though he follows with, "I think he enjoys it. He certainly seems to like provoking the XO, and she's got no problem just smacking him." He offers a mild shrug and leaves it at, "Different strokes." On the subject of the gorilla, Fish just shakes his head slowly. "I hope like hell that man develops some sense real quick. With his type though you never know whether he's the kind of dog that takes to training or turns on you. Either way, we won't put up with it and nobody expects you to either." With another shake of his head he dispels the subject, turning instead to the aforementioned tour. "So anyway," he begins again with a smile as they ascend the stairs in the cargo bay, "Welcome to Thunderchild. Crew area's up here, well-stocked kitchen and rec space, cabins on either side, bridge is up front where you'd expect it." More of a quick run-down than a tour, but for a ship this small it does the job.
She takes it all in, best she can, and one might see in those sparkling eyes that she is also intelligent. Mental notes are being scribbled as the man speaks and she follows where he motions as the tour begins. "Bigger isn't always better, no matter what the girls in school say." She says with quiet amusement, tucking her hands into the top most empty pockets of her cargo pants. "Have you been flying with the crew long, then? Anything other than fending off the ape man I need to worry about or need to know about?" She inhales, letting it out in a rough sigh. "First time I've had an XO that was a woman, I don't want to stomp on anyone's toes." She pauses, taking the man by the elbow if he allows, stepping close to whisper, "Women, when they're together, either work together, or despise each other. I'm really hoping for the first. The second makes thing, especially on a ship, especially on one this small, really... hard." She shrugs, and lets her hand fall away, "I ain't the jealous type, or the possessive type, really, but sometimes, my joking, flirtatious manner can be..." Oddly enough, it's this moment that she struggles with her words, "Taken the wrong way."
Vanessa arrives from Thunderchild - Captain's Cabin. Vanessa has arrived.
Edison Trent arrives from Thunderchild - Captain's Cabin. Edison Trent has arrived.
The official tour, what there was of it, ends in the crew area proper from which Fish gestures toward the couch to offer Hayden a seat. Her comment elicits a bit of a chuckle from him, and as the chuckle fades he says, "Hey, we're all about the motion of the ocean on this boat," leaving it to be interpreted as she likes. As to his history with the crew, Fish shakes his head. "Joined up a couple weeks ago myself, though I knew Ed from years ago." As to causes for concern, he shrugs a bit. "Seamus is also a recent hire. And if you can tame that dog I don't imagine you'll have any problems otherwise." Fish gives her his elbow and bows his head to listen when she whispers, nodding his head slowly. "I imagine so," he agrees finally, his eyes comign to meet hers. "The XO seems pretty easy to get along with," he begins, "but that isn't the sort of thing I could predict." Which sounds a bit like the cop-out it is, of course, Fish knows better than to risk stepping into that particular minefield. Instead he offers a sympathetic smile and a reassuring, "I think you're more likely to get the captain in trouble than yourself on that count."
The hatch of the Captain's Cabin opens, and a redheaded woman steps from within to enter the crew area. She leaves the door open, pausing just beyond it to turn her head and look back into the room. Shifting her weight, she brings her attention back to the crew area, her blue gaze passing over those who are present. Her attention pauses at the unknown woman, and she offers a single nod of greeting. Then she raises an eyebrow slightly. "Any requests for dinner?" Then she tilts her head faintly to one side, looking over to Fisher. "So, how's the Captain getting in trouble this time?" she asks, a thoughtful note to her voice. She lightly brushes her right hand against her outer thigh, and her left hand is occupied with holding a datapad with a dark screen to it. She carries said datapad over to the counter, lifting it to place it there, and then she lifts her freed left hand to brush a stray lock of her hair from her face. Her red hair is caught at the nape of her neck, neatly secured into a braid which lightly swishes at her back. While awaiting answers, Vanessa claims the carafe of the coffee pot and settles to getting a fresh pot on the go.
Seamus arrives from Thunderchild - Crew Cabin Three. Seamus has arrived.
Emerging not long after Vanessa, Trent arches a brow curiously, realizing he's instantly being put on the defensive for reasons he's unsure of. "Wait, what?" he asks, unsure of exactly what he's done now. "Don't go judging me in advance now," he warns everyone in the room, eyeing each person in turn. "I like to know when I've raised a fuss." He then casts a glare at Fish, his expression twisting into something crooked and contorted. "Don't go telling people the story of my life, starting in the middle," he warns, even as he marches himself into the crew area at large so he can take his seat at the head of the table. Not bothering to offer any suggestions to Nessa, given the fact he tends to eat anything placed infront of himself, he does glance back over his shoulder at the redhead. "Nessie, this is Hayden Louvel," he offers. "Medic, dropout, pain in the ass. Can't speak for how smart she is, being a dropout, but supposedly she can sew me together after my mouth lands me in the doghouse," he offers with a smile. "Hayden, this is the Vanessa you read about," he offers by means of introduction. Leaning back in the chair he's taken (Clearly not having learned his lesson yet) the man eyes the two women in turn, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling in what might be exhasperation, or maybe a prayer to the gods above. Either way...
Seamus enters from the crew cabin area. If you call not ducking enough, banging his head on the bulkhead, cussing, and stumbling in, 'entering'. Rubbing the chaotic mop of bright red hair on his head, he notices everyone in the room. "Oh hallo. Top o' the marnin' to ye all" Seeing a new face brings a momentary confusion to his face. But then he brightens. "Takin' on passengers? huh. Cool!" He immediately heads into the kitchen. Sniffing, he grunts a noise that might be the word "FOOD" and tries to wiggle past Vanessa to see if there's something out he can grab.
She takes the offered seat, first taking off the backpack she's been toting around and propping up the umbrella nearby. At his 'motion of the ocean' remark, she covers her mouth, but a genuine laugh escapes it. "See, you know what's going on." She says once her hand is lowered, patting the man on the knee. As he speaks, she earnestly listens, nodding. "We'll cage those monsters when we meet 'em." She says, crossing her legs and idly reaching to play with one of the zippers on the pocket near her outer thigh. "As far as the captain, I bet he can do that all by himself, but I can only imagine the interesting adventures that may come from my help." A rather mischievous grin. "Besides, he seems like a pro, he can handle it." It is then, that Vanessa arrives and she nods in return, standing up. Her fingers twitch, as if for a moment she's driven to salute, or make some kind of gesture of respect but manages to just stop herself in time so she doesn't look a fool. "Not that I've been here long, but I think the easier question to answer, would be how is he... not... getting into trouble." She offers a smile. A glance is shot towards Trent, "Does the book of your lift has pictures, because I bet they're dirty ones." She steps towards Vanessa, offering her hand. "Very nice to meet you." Polite as anything, despite the men who probably now gawk at her change of attitude. It's about then, that Seamus enters, and there is the most subtle lift of her head, glancing sideways at Trent as if sharing some remark.
Fish's attention turns from his conversation with Hayden as Vanessa and Trent enter, offering a nod by way of greeting. "Food," is his answer regarding dinner; the man is not a picky eater so long as she's cooking. When the XO asks about trouble Fish's features gain a lopsided grin. "Oh, nothing right now, just theoretical future trouble." To Trent he appends, "No stories this time, Captain, just filling in our newest crewmate on potential hazards on the job." As introductions are made, Fish's eyes turn upward, the sound of skull thumping metal having announced the gorilla's approach. When he's spoken, Fish offers a flat, "Seamus." Turning once more back to the Hayden. "Mhm," he murmurs agreement, listening, then adding more quietly, "No doubt on that count." He leaves the subject at that, though, what with the subject of their discussion present once more and the potential danger such commentary might pose. As she addresses said subject, Fish chuckles to himself once more, but settles down quickly and quietly shakes his head, observing the interaction without comment.
The redheaded woman turns her blue gaze over to Trent, and she tilts her head faintly to one side as he makes the introduction of the unknown woman. A small smile touches at the conrers of her lips, and she inclines her head towards the woman. "A pleasure to meet you, Hayden," she offers. She turns her back then on the crew area, pressing the power button on the coffee pot to start the fresh pot brewing. Then she turns to put her back to the counter, resting lightly there. Then she glances towards Trent, raising an eyebrow slightly. "You mean there are times when it doesn't land you into trouble?" she inquires, her tone clearly holding amusement as she teases him. Her attention shifts back to Hayden, watching her and studying her. Her attention shifts over to Seamus as he enters, and then she shakes her head a little bit. "There's no food made yet, Shay... I was looking to find out what folks wanted for dinner, since it's 'round that time," she comments, amused. Then her blue gaze wanders back to Hayden, listening to the woman, and a smile quirks at the corners of her lips. "Depending on what you've been told, I'm not sure if I should deny it all or lay claim to it all," she muses, looking to Fish first and then to Trent. One can never be certain, after all. "Since we're all gathered up... anyone have any food allergies so that I know what to avoid putting in things?" she asks, her gaze passing over each in turn.
Beaming with pride, Trent just wears a shit-eating smile that he's sure to flash back at Vanessa. "See, I'm a gorram pro," he offers... Well, before he realizes it might not be the compliment he took it as. "Wait, what am I pro at?" he almost demands, that sidelong glare at the OTHER redhead ever present. The one with ink. Er, the one with ink AND piercings. "Woman, you've got a smutty mind," he murmurs after, before kicking his boots up on the edge of the table so he can lean back comfortably. It's roughly then that he takes note of Seamus, before casting yet another saccharine sweet smile at Hayden, a single hand lifted with a shrug of his right shoulder. Somehow, it communicates 'Oh yeah, good luck.', wordlessly. Reaching into his jacket, he draws free his sterling flask, slowly twisting its cap open so that he might take a generous pull from it, again eyeing Fish. "I can put you back on that scow," he warns the man playfully, flashing him a wink despite the pilots silence. Vanessa distracts him again with her ribbing, his scowl feigned, but pointed. "Maybe. Once. A few years ago," he responds matter of factly. "I save my best for you, love," he offers, fluttering his lashes at the woman. "So..." he offers with a thoughtful pause, finally glancing back at the mountain of a meat-shield that is Seamus. "Seamus, this is Hayden. Please try to keep in mind that this woman may someday be responcible for putting you back together. Which also means she's likely very adept at taking you apart, Dohn ma?" he muses, praying the brute-squad behaves himself. Raising his hand, he does offer, "I'm allergic to meat-walls, can we drop Seamus off in the next port?" he requests, before digging into his coat again. Coming back up with a SIZEABLE orange t-shirt, he throws it at the huge man. "Picked you up a present," he offers with a smile.
Seamus seems to deflate when there's no food out yet. When he hears Vanessa mention dinner he frowns. "Really? 'S not marnin'? huh" The big man shrugs. "Always did loose track of time." Hearing the captain's introduction, his face brightens. He reaches up to doff his hat, them realizes its still in his cabin. Instead he sketches a move that /maybe/ was meant to be a bow. Of some sort or another. "'Tis a pleasure to be meetin' ya ma'am." When he sees what the orange thing is that's been tossed to him he beams a huge grin. Running back into the crew area, in modesty, he.comes back wearing the shirt. He poses, displaying the 'Big Damn Guns' logos on his arms. He cries out happily, "Yeah baby, eat THAT"
Introductions made, Hayden lingers there on the edge of the kitchen, perhaps a silent offer to help the XO if she should want it. That leaves Fish somewhere behind her, Trent and Shay somewhere in front of her, along with Vanessa. Seems safe enough. Finding a spot to lean with her shoulder, she shakes her head, "No ma'am." To the question of allergies. As Trent beams at the...compliment, she tilts her head down slightly, letting the hair follow to slightly cover up that grin she wears. As those green eyes tilt up and focus on Trent after he makes the remark of being smutty, she laughs, "You're just jealous." She says, flicking her tongue out to show yet another piercing. Lifting her head, turning her full attention to said mountain of meat, she tries to read that face, the features, the way he moves. As he gives her a rather polite greeting, she smiles, "Pleasure, Seamus." As a note, she neither denies nor agrees with Trent's comment on taking apart as well as she puts together. "I'm allergic to jack-assery but you don't see me bitchin', Captain." God, she just can't help it, it seems. Still, she's got an eye on Shay. The t-shirt is tossed and when the big man comes back with it on, she grins. "Very fitting."
"Not lately," Fish pitches in in response to Vanessa's initial question, lately being relative to the pilot's brief time on the crew. As to food allergies and the like, Fish offers a simple, "Nope," before firing back at the captain with a grin, "You sure could, and that would even free up my schedule for occasional visits to whatever prison you end up in, too." Seamus' introduction draws one eyebrow up but no comment from the pilot, but the man's response to the shirt elicits a rather peculiar, if exaggerated, gesture; Fish's head drops into the palm of his left hand, while is right makes a thumbs-up which he holds up in the air toward Seamus. So classy. After a moment he raises his head and withdraws his thumbs-up sign, eyeing Seamus before his attention returns to the general conversation. "Yep, that's us," he says wryly," Jack-assery incorporated. Welcome to the party."
Vanessa takes a moment to consider the position of Trent's chair, and she raises an eyebrow slightly before she gives a light laugh. She could do as she'd done once with his chair, insimilar position -- but she doesn't. Instead, she turns to open a cupboard and pull down a mug for her coffee. "Anyone else want a mug of coffee?" she offers, turning to look over her shoulder to the rest of the folks present. Her gaze settles on Trent, and she smirks before giving a small nod to him. "Mmmhmm. You're a pro at being you. Oh, aye... I'm sure you do save it," she comments, amusement to her voice and showing in her eyes. Not that she argues, much. Her attention is caught by the t-shirt that's tossed to Seamus, and she chuckles softly, her blue gaze watching him. "Nay, it's not yet morning. But I could make breakfast for dinner. No harm in it, after all," she comments, quirking a smile. Then she gives a nod to Hayden, a smile touching at the corners of her lips. "Makes it easier for cooking, not having to work around allergies and whatnot," Vanessa says, a thoughtful note to her voice. Then she laughs lightly and gives a nod to Fisher. "That fits well enough. Though maybe some members more than others," she muses. She steps over to the fridge, then starts getting out ingredients to place on the counter. She pauses amidst the task, looking over to Trent. "You might as well tell her the good news," she points out, inclining her head towards him. Then she gets out a mixing bowl to start adding dry ingredients into.
Deciding it best just to shut the hell up, for once, Trent simply smirks at Hayden, the roll of his eyes pointed. "True, I might be jealous. But... I could also be dissapointed with the reality of it," he offers with a bright smile. Fish however, Fish earns a sidelong glare... Again. "You know they'll never take me alive," he replies simply enough. Shaking his head, generally amused, he again takes a pull off his flask. "Well, life isn't gonna be boring on this boat," he reasons, more for himself than anyone else. It's roughly then that Seamus bursts back in and the Captain almost looks horrified. "What have I done?" he murmurs absently, sure he's somehow going to regret it. Shaking his head, the sigh that escapes his chest pronounced, Trent again fixes his attention on the newcomer. "Well, there's actually two pieces of good news," he reasons. "The first is that you're hired," he explains, even as he eyes his Exec curiously, somehow sure her words weren't exactly of the loving sort. "The other good news, is that Seamus didn't try to molest you, so I expect we've finally got him trained," he explains with a bright smile. "If you think you can keep from going all crotchety with the insanity, you're welcome to stay with us," he muses, even as he raises a hand. "I'd like my coffee Irish, please," he requests with a smile. Irish on this boat, does tend to have a special meaning.
Seamus gets a thoughtful look on his face and turns to head back to his cabin again. When he hears Trent's comment he freezes momentarily. "Why you little...I never....", he says, half-turning. Then he stops and gives a rolling shrug of his big shoulders and a heavy sigh. Together, they communicate better than words, "Why fucking bother?". He goes on to his rack. When he returns he has a bottle in one hand, a bottle under one arm, and a glass tumbler in the other hand. He offers the glass to Hayden as he says, "Hey, we got new crew. We should celebrate!"
Do people still get conjugal visits in prison?" She seems to muse this out loud, when clearly it was one of those inner thoughts, as Fish mentions Trent in prison. "No, thank you." At mention of coffee. "I'm not picky, unless you try and feed me protein, because someone..." She makes an exaggerated head twist towards Trent, eyeing that chair he's so precarious with. "Promised me I wouldn't have to eat that here." It's not hard to see, she -really- wants to tip that chair. Like, so badly it's making her tap her foot on the floor as if the energy is threatening to out itself, even if she doesn't give it permission. Pushing off the wall she was holding up with her shoulder, she casually strolls towards Trent's chair, inhaling slowly. "You mean, there is good news besides the pleasant company?" If she's quick enough and he doesn't get wise to her, she reaches out and grasps the back of his tipped chair with both hands, intending to pull back just enough to pull him off balance. If he flails, or if she lets go, he's likely going to be a pile of person and chair there on the floor. Unfortunately for him, the good news is enough to make her do just that... oops, she lets go. "Perfect!" She moves to clap her hands and in that moment Trent comes crashing down, heaped with his chair, at her feet. "Oh, gorramit Captain, I'm sorry!" It would mean more if she wasn't laughing. "Please don't fire me!" The apology is waylaid by the offered alcohol, "Cheers!" Taking the tumbler and downing the contents.
"Who'd want to live a boring life, anyway?" Vanessa poses, looking over to Trent and winking at him. "Irish, hmm? With anything else in it?" she asks, her blue eyes showing a sparkle to them. Then she reaches down a second mug when he accepts the offer. Lowering to one knee, she opens a cupboard door in order to retrieve a bottle of Midleton whiskey. Then she rises to her feet and nudges the cupboard door closed, her hands busying with opening the whiskey. She pours a measure into each mug, then sets the bottle on the counter and recaps it. Reaching out with her right hand, she claims the coffee pot in order to pour the mugs full of the dark brew. To her mug, she adds a bit of sugar and milk. She glances to Seamus, her brow furrowing briefly, though she lets him go for the moment. When he returns with his bottle, she chuckles softly before giving a small nod. "Aye, we should," she comments, her blue eyes showing a sparkle to them. Then she looks over to Hayden, and she chuckles softly before lightly shaking her head. "We don't do protein rations. Least wise, not unless it becomes absolutely necessary. I try to keep the pantry stocked with fresh or frozen that we can use rather than relying on processed stuff. Never developed a taste for the processed stuff," she comments, a smile coming to her features. Then she watches Hayden mosey along towards Trent's chair. She could warn him. But she doesn't. Women have to stick together, after all. Instead, she turns to pick up the mugs of coffee, her back conveniently turned when the chair dumping happens. At least this time, she's completely and entirely innocent.
Grinning brightly at Seamus, Trent just looks proud of himself. Moreover, he looks proud of the much larger man for his response. That bit of backbone might go a long way for the loveable oaf. Distracted by the fact he lifts his flask again, he fails to notice Hayden's approach, given how busy he is making love to his drink. For the second time in as many months, he falls back, suddenly an explosion of flailing hands and feet, even as his head bounces off the deckplates of the crew area. Only once he opens his eyes again, does he stare at the ceiling, another sigh escaping his chest. "I'll be the 'Da-shiang bao-tza shr duh lah doo-tze'," he fluently curses once his eyes focus. The curse, of course, translates to 'I'll be the explosive diarrhea of an elephant'. And really, who hasn't referenced explosive pachyderm feces when expressing complete incredulity? It happens to him all the time... "What is it with redheads on my boat, and my head hitting deckplates?" he almost demands of no one in particular. Picking himself up, he eyes Hayden warily, even as he rubs the back of his head. "You're dangerous, aren't you?" he murmurs rhetorically, even as he glances back at Nessie. "Yes. Painkillers," he requests, sure she's tickled as hell by the turn of events. "With the knocking about, I may not need much in the way of liquor," he reasons aloud. Righting his chair once more, he slumps into it, NOT leaning back this time. Under his breath, he murmurs something about the Motherless goats of all motherless goats, or somesuch.
Seamus grins at all the fun antics. Striding over, he picks up the Captain in one hand and his chair in the other. Righting the chair he almost gently plops the man down in it. Looking to Hayden, he says with a wink, "Careful lass, ye dont wanna go biting the hand that casts pearls before swine." Dusting his hands after a job well done, he.checks to make sure his new shirt didn't get wrinkled. He walks to the kitchen and grabs something from the fridge. Heading back toward the cabins, he looks back to Hayden again. "Welcome aboard!" Then he takes in the rest with a glance. "I'LL be in my rack. Call me when something needs stepped on."
She steps back, allowing the big man to right the Captain and his chair like Trent was Thumbelina on a pea sized throne. Really, she's not laughing, and that heat on her cheeks is a combination of embarrassment and holding in her laughter, as she really didn't intent to drop him like he was a hot potato. At any rate, she maintains most of her decorum, moving to grab up her bag and her umbrella from where she left it near the couch, "You know what, I think I'm going to call it a night, before you decide to have me show you how I can patch myself up." She grins wide. "Or, you know, throw me off the ship." A hopeful glance towards Vanessa, clearly hoping the woman will help her out and point her to a place she can bunk down.
Carrying the mugs over to the table, she places Trent's in front of him. Then she sets her own mug on the table. "I couldn't possibly imagine why it keeps happening," Vanessa comments, a thoughtful note to her voice and a smile trying so hard not to be shown. "The liquor will help with the pain. I was generous with it for you. I would have thought you'd have learned from the first time not to sit like that," she adds, a sparkle showing in her blue eyes. Lifting her left hand, she places it on his shoulder nearest to her, giving it a gentle squeeze. Then she claims her mug of coffee and carries it back to the counter. Setting it there, she then looks to Hayden and chuckles softly. "I'll show you to your bunk. I don't think you've got much to worry about, to be honest," she comments, quirking a smile. She leads the way then towards the fourth crew cabin.
