“Milk?!” Sam’s expression went all befuddled at Asher’s choice of libation and he couldn’t help but snort out a laugh when the kid tried to explain his selection. “Ma’s gonna be right proud of ya, son,” he chuckled, shaking his head and clapping a hand on the Kid’s shoulder.

Sam smirked and nodded an affirmation to the barkeep; “Bring the boy ‘is moo-juice, I reckon. I’ll take a mug of whatever ya got on draught an’ slide me a whiskey, too… neat.” As the tender went about filling the order, Dash turned, leaned against the bar and let his eyes slide over room once more. It looked as if Wyatt and Griffith were getting their pleasantries out of the way and, much to Sam’s delight, he couldn’t pick out any other overly-recognizable faces in the seedy little canteen… Looks as if it’s gonna be smooth as the Kid’s milk, he grinned as his gaze tracked away from the Cap and found the guncheck girl’s inviting form, er that li’l doll’s belly.
“That’s half a platinum,” the bartender stated, setting their order on the bar and drawing Sam’s attention away from the ‘hostess’.

“A’ight,” he nodded, fishing in his pocket for one of the few platinum coins he had left. “There ya go,” he said, laying the thing down in front of the man, “go ‘head an’ keep it fer the next round.”

As the tender palmed the coin, Dash nudged the milk towards Asher, took up the beer and the tumbler of whiskey, and gave the seedy little saloon another quick once over. “Looks like everythin’s gonna be peaceable, Kid,” he said, offering Asher a wry smile and nodding in the direction of the gunchecker, “When yer done suckin’ on that cow’s teat, I don’ reckon the Cap’ll be none too offended if’n ya was to take a run at them-uns. I’m gonna take this ta Wyatt…”

Sam took a quick swig of his beer, wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, and worked his way across the room to where Wyatt stood talking to Griffith. “Cap,” he said, offering the tumbler full of whiskey to Wyatt, “figgered it’d do ya ta knock some dust off.”

He regarded Royale’s captain, then, and flashed a crooked grin. “What say, Grif,” he asked, not failing to eyeball the sizable stack of chips in front of the man, “Winnin’ enough ta patch that big ruttin’ hole in yer boat an’ pay Wyatt off, ta boot?” He took another swig of his beer, burped, and looked back and forth between the two captains, seemingly not concerned that he might have interrupted a conversation or breeched the debt subject prematurely… “Who inna gun was at th’ wheel when that mi tian gohn happened, anyhoo?”

((OOC: After the Kid ordering milk and such I couldn’t resist throwing up another post… ))

Despite having no discernable pockets in her outfit and carrying no handbag, Willow made those sixty credits disappear faster than a politician’s promise the day after an election. “Sixty’s not a lot, Captain,” she replied lightly, “but I’ll do what I can to get canned yummies over that nasty paste. Fresh’ll have to wait for a celebration day.”

Willow turned back to the ship as she started to think back over the list for things to trim out. The hem of her tunic swirled with the movement, as did the glossy mass of her hair. That reminds me…a quick change into market wear…can’t undo all the morning’s hard work!
As she walked up the loading ramp, she called back to her departing friends,” Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, boys! Or, if you do”, and she looked back over her shoulder with a wicked grin,” make sure you stretch properly first. Don’t want any injuries in my sick bay today!”

Laughing lightly to herself at what she imagined Dash’s reaction had been, Willow glided through the ship to her room. She thumbed open the com while undoing the tiny little buttons holding her tunic closed at the neck.

“Kora, dear? Auntie (Willow’s pet name for Trish) gave me the shopping list, so I’m just making a quick wardrobe change. This outfit’s all wrong for the day and completely wrong for the market. Give me five minutes, or better yet, come over and give me a hand.”

Lifting the tunic carefully over her head (don’t snag the embroidery on the hairpin…that was a month’s allowance!), Willow moved around her scented cave with an economy of motion that spoke of long practice making quick changes. She pulled a simple abho from the overflowing closet, the loose fitting shirt-like garment having short, wide sleeves, open neck, and a tighter weave was more modest for the day, and wouldn’t be ruined by the dusty marketplace. “That, and a veil for my hair, will make this scandalous temptress fit for a little grocery shopping,” she murmured to herself.

Willow’s musical voice echoed into the shower where Kora was leisurely washing away the dust and grease she had acquired during Roc’s inspection.

“Kora, dear? Auntie gave me the shopping list, so I’m just making a quick wardrobe change. This outfit’s all wrong for the day and completely wrong for the market. Give me five minutes, or better yet, come over and give me a hand.”

Kora rolled her eyes in mock disdain and continued to rinse her body of the foamy lavender scented soap Willow had given her for a birthday present just a month earlier. She smiled slightly at Willow’s suggestion to “give her a hand”.

“Complete fluff” she muttered and wondered how they had ever become friends in the first place. They were total opposites in every aspect. Kora wasn’t any where near as engaged with her personal appearance as Willow. Her only requirement being that her clothes be clean and serviceable.

She remembered when Willow had first arrived on the Rocinante and how utterly amazed she was to see her wardrobe overflowing with vividly colored silks and exotic fabrics. Her dressing table was covered with all sorts of mysterious scents Kora couldn’t even pronounce and
she wondered if Willow’s companion training had instilled those girly traits in her or if she possessed them before.

Turning the hot water off, she squeezed the last bit of moisture from her soaking hair and sighed slightly at the thought of Willow’s blithe approach to life wishing that she could be so carefree. She grabbed a towel from the peg on the wall and wrapped it around her thin frame as she padded to her room to get dressed. Her choices were limited as she had never been one to spend money on clothes or her looks. She preferred the simplicity of a clean face and tousled hair. Absently she pulled on a pair of khaki leggings, a clean white t shirt and an old worn denim jacket. After tugging on a pair of brown combat boots she brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her dark hair then placed a small dagger in a holster on her hip. “don’t want folks thinkin’ I’m LOOKIN’ for trouble” she mused. Taking a quick look in the small mirror mounted on her austere wall she thought… “Well, I’m not as glamorous as Willow, but no matter, nobody notices me when I’m with her anyway”

With that gratifying thought, she headed to Willow’s room.

Milk duds
Asher made his way to the bar to join up with Sam. “Sure, I’d love a drink.” To the bartender, he spoke, “A big, ol’ tall glass of homo milk.”

The bartender looked at him strange, and Asher noticed the others at the bar did too.

“What?” the lad asked innocently. “I like my milk thick and creamy.”

The bartender looks at Asher with bemused smirk. “Milk? This ain’t no dairy farm boy! Only milk we got around these parts is Mudder’s milk, imported all the way frim Higgin’s moon. Good for …” He pauses to look the Kid over from head to toe, “growing men like you. Put some hair on the chest.” He says with a laugh and the patrons around him all laugh with him.

“Maybe Beth there could help him, “Laughed a grizzled old man on the other end of the bar, gesturing to the coat check girl, “She’s got more than enough to spare.”

Beth steps away from the coat check and walks behind the bar, bosom bouncing promisingly all the way, “More than willing to oblige Chester, if you or the young man here got the coin.” She stops to lean on the bar, offer an even closer view to Asher and Sam of her bartered goods. The crowd laughs raucously.

“Milk?!” Sam’s expression went all befuddled at Asher’s choice of libation and he couldn’t help but snort out a laugh when the kid tried to explain his selection. “Ma’s gonna be right proud of ya, son,” he chuckled, shaking his head and clapping a hand on the Kid’s shoulder.

Sam smirked and nodded an affirmation to the barkeep; “Bring the boy ‘is moo-juice, I reckon. I’ll take a mug of whatever ya got on draught an’ slide me a whiskey, too… neat.”

“Ain’t got no milk to give sir” the Bartender’s tone is respectful to Sam, upon production of coinage.

“Give the kid a break, Chester,” Beth sways her way to the back, then returns with a mug of white which she passes to Asher. “You ain’t been off home long have you? What’s your name?” She asks while resuming her leaning on the bar stance. “Cause I reckon it ain’t Wow.” She says with a smile.

“Looks like everythin’s gonna be peaceable, Kid,” Sam say, offering Asher a wry smile, and a lecherous glance at Beth, “When yer done suckin’ on that cow’s teat, I don’ reckon the Cap’ll be none too offended if’n ya was to take a run at them-uns. I’m gonna take this ta Wyatt…”

Sam worked his way across the room to where Wyatt stood talking to Griffith. “Cap,” he said, offering the tumbler full of whiskey to Wyatt, “figgered it’d do ya ta knock some dust off.”

He regarded Royale’s captain “What say, Grif,” he asked, not failing to eyeball the sizable stack of chips in front of the man, “Winnin’ enough ta patch that big ruttin’ hole in yer boat an’ pay Wyatt off, ta boot?” He took another swig of his beer, burped, and looked back and forth between the two captains, seemingly not concerned that he might have interrupted a conversation or breeched the debt subject prematurely… “Who inna gun was at th’ wheel when that mi tian gohn happened, anyhoo?”

The Job and the Offer
“Good to see you too Dash.” Griffith smile was sincere, “Let’s move back a bit where we can have some privacy” He says pointing to an empty booth in the back. “Your ship mate there seems to be occupied by the young lady, so we can keep this between us.”

(Assuming you go with him)

Griffith drinks from his beer and then says, “I’ll be plain with you. The crybaby story is what me and Deke, my pilot told the authorities. I am none too eager to tell you the details, so let it rest at the fault was my own and I blame no other Bie Woo Lohng.

“Now I own you money, and I don’t want to be no Gwai Koh. I have the 400 I owe in the pot I just won, but you’ll understand if I am none to eager to lose what I have got to fix Royale. So I have a proposition for you, if you’ll hear me out.”

(assuming you don’t shoot him)

“We were on the way to complete a job, and I can’t do that now. What if I give you the what’s and wherefore, let you take it form me. It is a good job, simple hauling but you need special equipment, which I have in my hold.”

(assuming a “what type of hauling and where”)

“Ever heard of the Lullabelle Mine? Two prospectors, Sam Hawkes and Jim Ryan, managed to lash a Bumblebee to the Angel Hair Comet. Attached it right on the core of the comet, right as rain – riding it like a wild horse on the plains. They are mining Ice. I’m not talking the stuff in your drink either. This stuff is a mix of a bunch of chemicals that are used by miner’s to run the equipment. Thing is, you have to keep in cold, hence the special holding units I have in my hold. You pick up the ice, and then fly it to the City of Frisco on Regina. You do that and a man named Balley Sacket will pay you 1000 credits.”

(what’s the catch?)

“You’ll have to move fast. I’m already overdue to pick it up and the Mining Consortium would like a piece of this action. Could be a man or two that would move quickly to snatch the job away.” Griffith leans back, “What do you say boys? I can’t do better than to drop a job in your lap and not ask a finder’s fee. Hell, if you return the containers to the Miner’s Guild, you can take my deposit as well.”

Shopping
Two beautiful women traveling through the open air market (hardly the fresh air on Beaumonde) are bound to attract attention. Willow lived for this, and could use it to her own purpose, especially to negotiate down a price or two.

For Kora, who had lived in a world where attention was certain death, it was different experience. There was a couple of tense moments while shopping, when an admirer or two of Willow sought to get her undivided attention – perhaps by force if they were so inclined. A look for Kora was usually enough to stop that.

Willows attention had become enraptured by a silk shop, selling very fine dyed fabric and linens. Kora was watching the doctor at a distance when a stocky bald man came up behind her and grabbed her by the arm. Kora moved to intercept but there were too many people in her way to get there quickly. Her trained eye assessed the man as drunk, but physically strong enough to be a danger. His clothing weren’t poor, but not cheap either. A local enforcer for some criminal thug, Kora reckoned.

“Hey my pretty.” His whiskey soaked breath wafting into Willows face, “ Dow Ma Tze! How about we’s have a good time together, you’s and I, Jah Joh. I got a gau gahn just lookin at you’s.” His hand grasps Willow tighter as if planning to drag her off then and now.

The marketplace was packed with shoppers busily perusing the wares of local merchants when Kora and Willow arrived. Boisterous barterings and loud conversations gave way to whispers and curious glances as the two women made their way through the crowd. Kora eyed the bystanders with more than a little caution while Willow smiled brightly and eagerly at all the interest they were triggering. Kora knew she would use it all to her advantage when it came time to do their own negotiating for goods.

Kora touched Willow’s silken arm and spoke into her bejeweled ear…”I’m going to pick up some parts for the Roc…I’ll be right back”

Willow smiled brilliantly and nodded her head as she continued on with her browsing completely and happily aware of her enthralled audience

Kora set out across the street to the local “junk dealer” to scrounge. She would get what she needed and zip back to help Willow gather up the rest of the supplies. Although she was happy to get away from all the attention Willow incurred, she stayed vigilante in keeping an eye on the doctor. Where Willow welcomed and even encouraged the admiration, Kora was keenly aware of the consequences such attention could bring.

It didn’t take Kora long to find the parts she was looking for as most of these junk brokers dealt with every type of ship in the galaxy at one time or another and even if she hadn’t been able to find an exact match, she was good at ‘modifications’. She paid the dealer and headed back to where she left Willow. She spotted her at a Silk shop fingering the smooth coolness of colorful fabrics. “well there’s a surprise” she laughed to herself. As she drew closer she saw a stocky bald man approach the doctor from behind. He grabbed her arm as if to forcefully take her with him.

Kora hurriedly wove her way through the crowd to where Willow and her “admirier” were standing.
She could tell he was drunk, but well dressed. “A local enforcer for some criminal thug”, Kora reckoned. She snaked her way through the crowd and as she eased up behind him she heard him say “Hey my pretty, Dow Ma Tze! How about we’s have a good time together, you’s and I, Jah Joh. I got a gau gahn just lookin at you’s.”

Kora gingerly pulled the knife from it’s holster and stuck the point into the man’s back as she seductively whispered into his ear from behind… “how ‘bout a threesome stud…you, her and this blade?”

Wyatt caught sight of Sam out of the corner of his eye as the other man approached and shifted to allow his friend more of a position in front of Griff. You don’t put yourself in a flanking position without risking offense, and in a place like this, Wyatt was a pretty straight forward guy, but with the Luck of Three hanging over his head, he wasn’t taking any chances.

“Cap,” Dash said, offering the tumbler full of whiskey to Wyatt, “figgered it’d do ya ta knock some dust off.”

Wyatt nodded his thanks and accepted the glass, taking a sip and allowing the liquid fire to roll down his throat while Sam started in on their old friend.

“What say, Grif,” Sam asked, not failing to eyeball the sizable stack of chips in front of the man, “Winnin’ enough ta patch that big ruttin’ hole in yer boat an’ pay Wyatt off, ta boot?” He took another swig of his beer, burped, and looked back and forth between the two captains, seemingly not concerned that he might have interrupted a conversation or breeched the debt subject prematurely… “Who inna gun was at th’ wheel when that mi tian gohn happened, anyhoo?”

Wyatt remained passive though he winced inside and silently invoked a prayer for luck to Buddha at the pilot’s brash nature. Sam certainly wasn’t as superstitious as Wyatt, but they’d been together long enough that the captain had hoped there’d be a little consideration.

“Good to see you too Dash.” Griffith smile was sincere, “Let’s move back a bit where we can have some privacy” He says pointing to an empty booth in the back. “Your ship mate there seems to be occupied by the young lady, so we can keep this between us.”

Wyatt glanced over his shoulder to where the Kid was obviously in over his head. Even living on board with an individual as close to a companion as one could come without actually being one, Asher was more greenhorn when it came to women than Wyatt thought possible. With a nod, he followed Griffith back to the table he’d indicated and took a seat, tilting his hat back in the process.

Griffith drinks from his beer and then says, “I’ll be plain with you. The crybaby story is what me and Deke, my pilot told the authorities. I am none too eager to tell you the details, so let it rest at the fault was my own and I blame no other Bie Woo Lohng.

“Now I own you money, and I don’t want to be no Gwai Koh. I have the 400 I owe in the pot I just won, but you’ll understand if I am none to eager to lose what I have got to fix Royale. So I have a proposition for you, if you’ll hear me out.”

Wyatt nodded by way of urging Griffith on, but otherwise remained quiet, his tumbler sitting in the table in front of him.

“We were on the way to complete a job, and I can’t do that now. What if I give you the what’s and wherefore, let you take it from me. It is a good job, simple hauling but you need special equipment, which I have in my hold.”

“Simple haulin’?” Wyatt raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.

“Ever heard of the Lullabelle Mine? Two prospectors, Sam Hawkes and Jim Ryan, managed to lash a Bumblebee to the Angel Hair Comet. Attached it right on the core of the comet, right as rain – riding it like a wild horse on the plains. They are mining Ice. I’m not talking the stuff in your drink either. This stuff is a mix of a bunch of chemicals that are used by miner’s to run the equipment. Thing is, you have to keep in cold, hence the special holding units I have in my hold. You pick up the ice, and then fly it to the City of Frisco on Regina. You do that and a man named Balley Sacket will pay you 1000 credits.”

“Simple haulin…” Wyatt shook his head and grinned a lopsided grin. “Griff, there’s more t’ this than yer lettin’ on. Spill it.”

“You’ll have to move fast. I’m already overdue to pick it up and the Mining Consortium would like a piece of this action. Could be a man or two that would move quickly to snatch the job away.” Griffith leans back, “What do you say boys? I can’t do better than to drop a job in your lap and not ask a finder’s fee. Hell, if you return the containers to the Miner’s Guild, you can take my deposit as well.”

Wyatt considered the offer for a moment, glancing at Sam as he did so to get a feel for how the other man felt, then he gave a slight shake of his head and quickly tossed the rest of his drink, screwing up his face at the sting the rotgut gave him as it went down.

“Ai Yah Tien Ah Griff, but you’re paintin’ a pretty right nice. I mean, I’d have t’ be a Buhn Dahn t’ turn it down the way you painted it, but see? That’s what bothers me. Luck o’ Three’s on us here, Puhn Yoh. Got me a hold full o’ cargo I been stuck with rather unexpected like an’ then there’s the condition o’ Royale t’ figure in all this. What ever happened to yer ship’s yer business, but if it had to do with this run that yer offerin’ I’d sure like to know. After all, I got me an’ mine t’ look out fer.”

The market was awash in humanity, and Willow enjoyed the opportunity to be around more than the same five people in one small place. Despite (or because of) the smells both pleasant and nasty, moving through the crowd was a graceful dance of dodging people, equipment, stray animals (pets or food, it was so interchangeable), smiling and nodding to this friendly greeting or that befuddled stare.

Otherwise, in terms of shopping pleasure, it was dreadfully boring; dreary goods in dreary stalls sold by dreary souls. Willow hardly had the heart to haggle down the prices proffered by some, but the thought of her beloved crew choking down protein paste in place of a meal hardened her heart. Their arms grew laden as Willow and Kora traded off bartering for foods (Willow couldn’t bring herself to buy meat, even when they could afford it), and when Kora said she’d be off for spare parts, Willow nodded distractedly, wondering if they’d exhausted the possibilities of the market already.

A fabric shop waved its silken banners to her glad eyes, and the young doctor hastened her steps through the crowd to gaze enraptured at the textures and colors. There was a brushed twill, sturdy yet fine, and the green color would set off Kora’s eyes so nicely. That pink wool would be knit up into something pretty in Auntie’s hands in no time and that blue silk with the gold pattern? Willow was certain that it would be just perfect for…

“Hey my pretty.” A bald man, stocky yet strong leaned in close, his whiskey soaked breath wafting into Willows face, “ Dow Ma Tze! How about we’s have a good time together, you’s and I, Jah Joh. I got a gau gahn just lookin at you’s.” His strong hand had gripped her upper arm possessively, and it tightened as if Willow had already agreed.

“ Rung Tse Fwo Tzoo Bao Yo Wuo Muhn! “ Willow gasped, her eyes wide with pretend fright and her free hand coming up to her mouth as if to cover her gasp. “Kind sir, you must be mistaken,” she continued breathlessly, “ I’m no jien huo , please let me go.” Willow looked around her, looking for Kora, but making sure she gave her best “lost kitten” look to whoever in the crowd would make eye contact. As she looked back at her accoster, she shook herself slightly as if he was getting rougher with her. Her free hand continued up to her hair as if the motion was dislodging her veil, and she palmed the butterfly pin.

She brought her free hand down to rest tremblingly on his clenched hand as she looked at him beseechingly. “We can’t let my husband see you touching me. I’ll be beaten and you? “ A pretty little gasp of horror,”I can’t be responsible for yet another man’s death!”

OOC: If the man won’t back down over Willow’s threat of her husband, she’ll give him a scratch with the pin, enough to knock him out. That is, if she hasn’t encouraged the crowd to come to her rescue.

“Good to see you too, Dash,” Griffith smiled, shrugging off the pilot’s good-natured hacking, “Let’s move back a bit so we can have some privacy.” The man gestured towards an out of the way booth; “Your shipmate there seems to be occupied with the young lady so we can keep this between us.”

Dash shrugged and offered a fractional nod, his gaze tracking first to the booth, then to where the Kid stood nursing his milk and a sheepish eyeful of Beth’s ample blessings, before skimming over the remainder of the place again. “Ku,” he chuckled, stepping aside so as to let Grif lead the way, “I reckon if we’re gonna sally round with the likes o’ you, outta the way’s the best place ta do it.” He took another slug of beer with one hand and, with the other, playfully nudged Royale’s captain as he slid past.

Sam, of course, had sensed Wyatt’s consternation when he had started giving Grif the row… this rule o’ three’s really got him bunched up… and, as they fell in behind the dragonfly captain and worked their way towards the booth he muttered; “Relax, Wyungsung. I’s just ribbin’ the guy; din’t mean ta get yer pooter puckered. That superstition’s gonna fry yer noodle.” He clapped a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder as they reached the booth to emphasize the apology. Then, as Wyatt settled in across from Grif, Sam hauled the mug to his lips and surveyed the barroom, once more, over the rim on the thing before taking a seat himself.

“…The crybaby story is what me and Deke, my pilot told the authorities. I am none too eager to tell you the details, so let it rest at the fault was my own and I blame no other Bie Woo Lohng.” Grif was saying when Dash settled into his seat and turned an eye his direction.

Well, I din’t figger Deke ta be no chwen, so that ain’t surprisin’… still like ta know the facts of it, though. Wyatt didn’t push the man on the subject, though, so in deference to getting his friend even more on edge, Sam let it pass, too.

Grif continued; “… I have the 400 I owe in the pot I just won, but you’ll understand if I am none to eager to lose what I have got to fix Royale. So I have a proposition for you, if you’ll hear me out.”

Wyatt nodded by way of urging Griffith on, but otherwise remained quiet, his tumbler sitting in the table in front of him.

“We were on the way to complete a job, and I can’t do that now. What if I give you the what’s and wherefore’s, let you take it from me. It is a good job, simple hauling but you need special equipment, which I have in my hold.”

“Simple haulin’?” Wyatt raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.

Uh-huh, Sam thought, lifting his eyes from the dissipating head of his brew, an’ I’m the gorram gov’ner o’ Shinon… He smirked a bit and flicked a sidelong glance at Wyatt but tossed another swallow of beer down his hatch before he could vocalize his thoughts. To the pilot’s way of thinking, there wasn’t any sense in getting the Captain any more bugged-out about luck than he already was – at least not yet. So, as Griffith went about painting his picture, Dash did his best to make sure his mouth was otherwise occupied throughout the rest of the discourse.

…Griffith leans back, “What do you say boys? I can’t do better than to drop a job in your lap and not ask a finder’s fee. Hell, if you return the containers to the Miner’s Guild, you can take my deposit as well.”

Wyatt glanced at him, then, and, in reply Dash offered a shrug that said; “The math’s good, Cap, but it could get wei shan if we don’t get the whole story. You call it…”

Sam grinned when Wyatt shook his head and returned his attention to the other captain, hammered back the remainder of his whiskey and said; “Ai Yah Tien Ah Griff, but you’re paintin’ a pretty right nice. I mean, I’d have t’ be a Buhn Dahn t’ turn it down the way you painted it, but see? That’s what bothers me. Luck o’ Three’s on us here, Puhn Yoh. Got me a hold full o’ cargo I been stuck with rather unexpected like an’ then there’s the condition o’ Royale t’ figure in all this. What ever happened to yer ship’s yer business, but if it had to do with this run that yer offerin’ I’d sure like to know. After all, I got me an’ mine t’ look out fer.”

“Them’s good figgers,” Dash added, burping the last word as he set his empty mug down on the table, “but, like the Cap says, we’re a’ready up ta our pi gu in bum luck, Grif. Way I see it, Regina’s about seven days out from here on hard burn, let alone runnin’ out ta this Hulawhore Mine to collect the cargo first. If we take a big damn nick on th’ cargo we a’ready got, we’ll be lucky ta get Roc enough fuel ta get off th’ ruttin’ dock…”

He leaned back in his seat, glanced at Wyatt to make sure he hadn’t said too much (he wasn’t the best at “negotiating,” after all) “…an’ I ain’t lookin’ ta get tangled up in whatever politics got yer boat humped, neither. Better just ta avoid that kinda mi tian gohn all t’gether, get me? Gonna need ta cozy up ta some assurances, Lao Sheong."

((OOC: Just chippin’ in… Like the Cap, Sam’s figuring that there’s more to Grif’s story, of course, but he’s not opposed to doing the job if the pay works out… He's kinda thinking about them purple belllies what was sniffin around on the docks, too...Edits if necessary.))

OOC: Breast is best!

The bartender looks at Asher with bemused smirk. “Milk? This ain’t no dairy farm boy! Only milk we got around these parts is Mudder’s milk, imported all the way frim Higgin’s moon. Good for …” He pauses to look the Kid over from head to toe, “growing men like you. Put some hair on the chest.” He says with a laugh and the patrons around him all laugh with him.

Asher was a good-natured feller, laughed along with the rest. It wasn’t the first time he’d been ribbed fer his choice of drink. Truth was though, the lad had a hard time stayin’ on the level was the booze was added to the system… and Asher didn’t want t’ be relyin’ on ol’ Yosemite Sam t’ haul his drunken arse back to the ship.

“Maybe Beth there could help him, “Laughed a grizzled old man on the other end of the bar, gesturing to the coat check girl, “She’s got more than enough to spare.”

Asher’s eyes turned back to focus on the beauty that was the coat check girl -- Beth… the lad thought dreamily. Hmmmm…. Yum….
To his surprise, Beth stepped away from the coat check and walked behind the bar, bosom bouncing promisingly all the way, “More than willing to oblige Chester, if you or the young man here got the coin.” She stops to lean on the bar, offer an even closer view to Asher of her bartered goods.

Once again, a silly, puppy-like grin came over the lad’s face, “Wow…”

The crowd laughs raucously.

It’s not that Asher hadn’t been with a woman before – fer sure he had. And it’s not like he hadn’t seen beautiful women before – Willow and Kora were fine examples… but they were like family, ya know… untouchable.

And, well, sure the Kid was a bit awkward in these sorts of circumstances – where one paid fer a good time – the boy had been brought up with more than a few conservative values.

But the plain truth was the Lad was in his prime and had hormones enough fer probably the whole crew… And… well… it had been quite some time since his last time….
“Milk?!” Sam’s expression brought Asher back for the moment. “Ma’s gonna be right proud of ya, son,” he chuckled, shaking his head and clapping a hand on the Kid’s shoulder.

Asher grinned at his friend before, winking back at Beth, “What can I say? Just trying t’ keep all me bones big and strong.”

Sam smirked and nodded an affirmation to the barkeep; “Bring the boy ‘is moo-juice, I reckon. I’ll take a mug of whatever ya got on draught an’ slide me a whiskey, too… neat.”

“Ain’t got no milk to give sir” the Bartender’s tone is respectful to Sam, upon production of coinage.

“Give the kid a break, Chester,” Beth sways her way to the back, then returns with a mug of white which she passes to Asher. “You ain’t been off home long have you? What’s your name?” She asks while resuming her leaning on the bar stance. “Cause I reckon it ain’t Wow.” She says with a smile.

“Name’s Asher, ma’am,” Asher took a long swig of the offered mug. “But, you might be surprised how many ladies have called me `Wow’.”

“Looks like everythin’s gonna be peaceable, Kid,” Sam say, offering Asher a wry smile, and a lecherous glance at Beth, “When yer done suckin’ on that cow’s teat, I don’ reckon the Cap’ll be none too offended if’n ya was to take a run at them-uns. I’m gonna take this ta Wyatt…”

His attention on Beth, Asher just smiled and gave the pilot a nod, “Alright… but don’t been getting’ int’ no imminent trouble, ‘cause, well, I just might be a little too preoccupied to get my hand on a trigger fer ya,ya get me?”

Once the pilot had left, Asher downed the rest of his mug and gave his full attention to Beth, “So… there maybe some place a bit more private we can continue our conversation? I think I’d like t’ get t’ know ya a might bit better.”

Black Velvet if you please
Asher downed the rest of his mug and gave his full attention to Beth, “So… there maybe some place a bit more private we can continue our conversation? I think I’d like t’ get t’ know ya a might bit better.”

Despite her youth, Beth had been around the block enough to have developed a cynical view of the verse. Plenty of men have sweet talked her before and they always had one thing in mind, and she’d learn that if you have assets that people want, best make them pay in platinum.

But something about this Asher Kid stuck a chord deep inside Beth, where remained traces of the country girl that dreamed of a handsome farm hand to take her away from her Daddy’s drinking and her mom’s wandering. Maybe it was the pretty boy smile or that slow, honest style of talking. The Kid made her feel special in a single “wow”, like no man had in a long time.

“Well I think you need to check your coat Asher,” she said quietly, “And we shall see how much private we can muster.” With that she moved back to the coat check area, with a sultry glance behind to make sure Asher was following.

GM Note – This is a PG site. I am not writing details here, so let it go as Asher is about to have a very good time.

Meet Market
“ Rung Tse Fwo Tzoo Bao Yo Wuo Muhn! “ Willow gasped, her eyes and her free hand coming up to her mouth. “Kind sir, you must be mistaken,” she continued breathlessly, “ I’m no jien huo , please let me go.” Willow looked around her, looking for Kora, but making sure she gave her best “lost kitten” look to whoever in the crowd would make eye contact. As she looked back at her accoster, she shook herself slightly as if he was getting rougher with her. Her free hand continued up to her hair as if the motion was dislodging her veil, and she palmed the butterfly pin.

The crowds of this city had long developed a hard apathy to situations like this. Stick your nose into other people’s business and you were liable to get it cut off. So Willows looks to the crowd did nothing to draw a big damn hero, although some of her admirers from before were willing to sally up for front row seating.

Kora moved quickly, with intention to stop this man in his tracks. But a big man got in her way, stepping deliberately in front of her in a threaten manner. “Now don’t you be spoiling Zee’s fun. I can more than satisfy …” The man eyes fell upon the tattoo on Kora’s arm and he backed up a step, “Ai Yah Tien Ah.(Oh my god, we're in trouble)”

Willow brought her free hand down to rest tremblingly on his clenched hand as she looked at him beseechingly. “We can’t let my husband see you touching me. I’ll be beaten and you? “ A pretty little gasp of horror, ”I can’t be responsible for yet another man’s death!”

The drunk man smiled and loosed his grip a little, “You sure be pretty. I bet your Kai Tze (Boyfriend, master - derogatory)won’t mind sharing.”

“Zee!” The man standing near Kora shouted out, “We’s want to move on. Wei Shan Dohn Woo. (Big Danger)

Zee looked over at his brother, who shook his head furvourly. Then back at Willow, letting go of her arm. He seemed confused as he asked, “She’s your Kai Tze?”

When the dealin done
“Ai Yah Tien Ah Griff, but you’re paintin’ a pretty right nice. I mean, I’d have t’ be a Buhn Dahn t’ turn it down the way you painted it, but see? That’s what bothers me. Luck o’ Three’s on us here, Puhn Yoh. Got me a hold full o’ cargo I been stuck with rather unexpected like an’ then there’s the condition o’ Royale t’ figure in all this. What ever happened to yer ship’s yer business, but if it had to do with this run that yer offerin’ I’d sure like to know. After all, I got me an’ mine t’ look out fer.”.

“Them’s good figgers,” Dash added, burping the last word as he set his empty mug down on the table, “but, like the Cap says, we’re a’ready up ta our pi gu in bum luck, Grif. Way I see it, Regina’s about seven days out from here on hard burn, let alone runnin’ out ta this Hulawhore Mine to collect the cargo first. If we take a big damn nick on th’ cargo we a’ready got, we’ll be lucky ta get Roc enough fuel ta get off th’ ruttin’ dock…”

Grif shook his head, “You have always been a superstitious one. But I don’t cotton to the rule of threes or what fors and you know that. What happened to Royale was plain me being stupid.” He looked around, looking sheepish. “I’d tell you what happened, but frankly I don’t want to hear you two laughing at me for the next hour.” He leaned back and finished his beer, “You got cargo? That’s a hitch isn’t it? Can you dump it quickly and still make coin?”

(Assuming some evasive answer)

“Well as to fuel, I have to flush the entire system of Royale . I am running about half, but you are welcome to it cause it won’t keep otherwise. Prefer it known to me that you be using instead of some dock hander pocket. I’m trying to do right by you Wyatt. You helped me out when I was in a jam, and no Chwen (Fool, dope) was willing to give me the money. On top of all that, you let it slide until now, without so much as a wave. Lullabelle Mine is a two day hard burn if you angle it right, and it is between here and Regina as we speak. The comet is moving though, so you best be off by morning or it is gonna be a longer trip.”



GM Note – This is my interpretation. You run on hydrogen fuel cells. Once tapped into a system and removed, I am ruling they will slowly leak out all their hydrogen making them worthless. So Griffith is offering to give you the full cells from his ship – about 30 tons, shaving 150 credits off your dock fees. This may sound like a grand gesture, but frankly it isn’t. If he didn’t give it to you, then the dock handlers will siphon it off to sell or use on their own rigs. No one will admit to it, but ever space faring captain knows about it.

Wyatt heard all that the man had to say, though at first he was loath to swallow it without a chaser. His study of Griff put his mind more at ease though, and what’s more was he knew the man to be a straight shooter.

“Sense enough,” Wyatt frowned a bit as he contemplated the possibilities. Those fuel cells helped to settle his mind a bit and he hadn’t been lying when he’d indicated that Griff was offering way more than he owed. Of course, this led to the funny fact that Griffith might consider himself the sort who was now owed a favor should Wyatt accept the work. Sung turned the tumbler about between his fingers as he silently weighed the facts over, then he gave a nod.

“Done deal, Griff. Though we gotta establish a line somewhere’s here abouts concerning that cargo we currently hold ‘fore we can pick up a new brand. Shouldn’t take us none to long to procure us a deal—hell, got’s us a meet an’ greet this afternoon. We’ll swing by Royale after an’ solidify transfer of the goods.”

Rising from his seat, Wyatt reached across the table with his left hand, leaving his right free to skin his hogsleg should he need to, and took Griff’s hand in a strong handshake. “One last thing Griff,” he said as they released. “Some Feds were pokin’ ‘round Royale when we swung by to see if you was home. Where the Nien Mohn’s concerned one can’t be too careful, so I thought I’d pass it your way just in case the Luck o’ Three has somethin’ to do with that.”

(OOC: assuming Griff or Sam doesn’t have anything else to add…)

Tipping his hat, Wyatt turned and began to saunter towards the stairs and coat check, his eyes searching out Asher in the process, confident that Sam was right near him the whole time. After a moment, Sung glanced towards his friend and raised his eyebrows.

“Where’d the Kid go off to?”

Sam still wasn’t entirely sure about picking up Griffith’s run – there wasn’t anything he could specifically put his finger on to justify his apprehension, really, just general distrust of folk – but, after watching Wyatt weigh it all out in his own brainpan and accept the job, Sam wasn’t going to take the other fork in that path. Free fuel helps, he mused, an’ I reckon th’ profit looks ta be shiny – good’n over what Grif owes th’ Cap…
When Wyatt rose from his seat and extended a hand to Royale’s captain to seal the deal, Dash slid out of his own chair and cast another glance around the place, once more surveying the random knots of patrons and, also, searching for the Kid. His mouth twisted into a knowing grin when he saw the empty milk glass being swept from the bar and noticed that neither Asher nor the gun-check girl was anywhere in sight. Damn but that boy don’t waste no time!
“One last thing, Griff,” Wyatt was saying as Dash returned his attention to the two captains, “Some Feds were pokin’ ‘round Royale when we swung by to see if you was home. Where the Nien Mohn’s concerned one can’t be too careful, so I thought I’d pass it your way just in case th’ Luck o’ Three’s got somethin’ ta do with that.”

“Yeah! Could be, too, they’s just lookin’ fer the li’l ruttin’ gremlin as poked that hole in yer boat,” Dash chuckled, nodding his own farewell to Griffith, “Whatev’r it was as they was lookin’ for din’t seem like it’d be too damn big…”

(OOC: assuming nothing more than a ‘go hump yerself, Dash’ from Grif or Wyatt)

“…Watch yer six, puhn yoh,” he grinned, “We’ll catch ya onna docks.”

“Where’d the Kid go off to,” Wyatt asked just before they reached the gun-check post.

Dash offered the Cap a wry grin and nodded toward the corridor that lead to the Idoru’s ‘back-room.’ “I reckon Ma’s boy done got milked an’ then commenced ta gettin’ his gun checked,” he smirked, “Kid’s got more hormones’n a ruttin’ billy-goat with ten peckers! Ya want I should go fetch ‘im?”

((OOC: If the Cap says "go get 'im", Dash will, of course, go off to fetch Asher - uncerimoniously barging in and telling the Kid to dry it off and wrap it up. Otherwise, he'll follow Wyatt out and back to the ship (or whatever)...))

“I reckon Ma’s boy done got milked an’ then commenced ta getting’ his gun checked.” Wyatt glanced at Sam with raised eyebrows as the pilot continued with a knowing smirk on his face. “Kid’s got more hormones’n a ruttin’ billy-goat with ten peckers! Ya want I should go fetch ‘im?”

The captain wasted no time in considering his response. “Naw. Let the Kid have a little fun while we’re dockside. I figure you, me, an’ Willow can handle Dodger an’ Asher knows where Rocinante is corralled.

We got us a bit of time t’ pass ‘fore the meetin’, Sam. If you wanna check out the local color, I’m good with that. I’ll be headin’ back to Rocinante t’ go over some figures before Dodger tries t’ rip us off.”

(OOC: whether Sam goes with Wyatt or not, Wyatt will head back to the ship to crunch numbers, review the cargo details, plan for Griff’s transfer, etc. until it is time to leave for the meeting.)

Sam responded with a nod when the Cap decided to let Asher have his fun. “Might’s well,” he said, clipping up the stairs behind Wyatt, “Get ‘im back in the black all bound up an’ the Kid’s like ta shoot ‘imself in th’ hoo-hoo.”

“We got us a bit of time t’ pass ‘fore the meetin’, Sam. If you wanna check out the local color, I’m good with that,” Wyatt offered as they made their exit, “I’ll be headin’ back to Rocinante t’ go over some figures before Dodger tries t’ rip us off.”

Dash paused for a moment, his eyes ticking towards either end of the alley as he considered the captain’s offer. It had been a while since he’d tied one on and had a good grapple and, knowing Willow, there wasn’t like to be any steak included with the groceries – Ai ya, but a slab of ribs’d be right satisfyin’ – so, maybe finding a little hole in the wall where they served meat…

“Nah,” he decided, convincing himself that Beaumonde was just a little too close to the Core for his liking, “I’m shiny, Cap. If I’m gonna rope that comet, I reckon I prob’ly oughta look ta Roc’s nav systems an’ sech. Ya go flyin’ inta th’ tail of a comet an’ navsats get pretty damn useless, get me?”

A steak does sound gooder’n grapple, though, don’t it? Mebbe once we’re done wit’ this tech haulin’ we can pick up a herd er somethin’…
((OOC: Even though he’d really like to grab a burger, Sam’s gonna pass and head back to the ship, too. He’ll probably check Rocinante’s control and nav systems more than once, spend some time “plottin’ a course”, plus help Wyatt out as needed… If it gets too late and Sam reckons Willow and Kora are a might overdue, though, he’s liable to start suggesting that “we go ferret ‘em out”… ))

Asher followed Beth to the room behind the coat check. The girl definitely drew him in.She reminded the lad of home... and simplier times... better times.

The thoughts of home, even in the midst of his lust, brought to mind his mother and Abby, his sister... and Ruth-Ann, his sweetheart from long ago... all ripped away... away...

The hardened,jaded, and lustful parts of Asher told him, Those times have past... ain't no room fer a gentle folks no more. Best get what y'can when y'can.
But there was another voice too... the one remindin' him of when people were decent folks... honorable and such.

Beth closed the door to the back room -- four walls and a bed. Asher closed his eyes and kissed the girl in front of him -- the girl of this moment. He knew she was more than ready to lay with him... and there was no denyin' his body was tellin' him it was more than ready.

But something stop caused him to pause... if only for a moment.

"Miss Beth," He said softly. "There ain't no denyin' I'd love t' bed ya right now." He kissed her again. "But I want t' do ya right. Not just like a stallion with some mare... but gentleman like." Another kiss. "So, I got t' ask ya.. are you free t' leave here fer a bit? 'Cause I'd love t' take ya away from here... if only fer a bit."


OOC: If Beth agrees, than I would say that the two of them leave the bar prior to Sam/Sung... Find a place to eat and then he'll take her to a decent hotel. If not... then Asher will go back to the bar quick and get the nicest bottle of alcohol, two glasses and head back to Beth.