The door to the office read “Sterling Phoenix – Chief Custodial Engineer”. Deep in the bowels of a Blue Sun Corporation megaplex, this wasn’t the office of an ordinary janitor. If anyone were to walk in expecting such, they would soon be surprised by the luxurious furniture, the huge oak deck and the state of the art security feeds and cortex box. Many great cime lords had a base of operations. Niskai had his space station, Dwain had his floating plantation on Bellerophon, and Sterling had his office that few knew about.

It wasn’t always the way of his life. Sterling had once been a Captain fighting on the independence side of the war – the losing side as it were. He lost a lot in the war, Friends, family, his arm, and eye on the left side. But the death of his parents and baby sister always hung on Sterling like a lead weight he carried around. Died in the firebombing of Athens by the “heroes” of the alliance, or so the media called them. There had been five young pilots smiling prettily after they burned his home and family beyond recognition.

But that was the past, and today was the future. Using contacts he made during the war to ‘appropriate” supplies, Sterling had done well for himself. Quite well actually, starting with stolen goods and moving into drugs, smuggling and unsavory goods. It didn’t bother him, let the spoiled kids of the stuck up alliance die of OD’s or killing each other with illegal weapons. He made a profit, and money solved a lot of problems. His left eye and arm were replaced with the best that money could buy, making him better than he was before - better, stronger, faster – or so the doctors said. Then there was the four of the “hero’ pilots that the news people lauded in their feeds and articles were now all dead. One by one, at the hands of Sterling, he killed them. One of them died in the war before he could get his hands on him, but the other four paid dearly.

Or so he thought.

Sterling stood behind the man called Snake as he viewed the screenshot on the security screen. Snake was a master tracker in the verse. He could find people with the smallest of clues and Sterling had used his skills before. He liked Snake because he was dependable, reliable and up front about what he’d do and not do. Sterling appreciated honesty.

“What am I looking at?” Snake asked.

Sterling pointed at screen with an artificial finger. The image on screen was of a group of people moving past a camera. Three men and a woman. Only one of the three was a clear face shot, a man with a cloth wrapped around his head, and a determined look in his eye. “That man there. I want you to find him.” Sterling said pointing at man with the headwrap.

“Who is he?”

Sterling pulled open a draw in his desk. There he drew out a hardcopy of a news clipping, many years old. “Heroes of a Glorious Victory” the headlines read and there were five young pilots beaming smiles at the camera. Four of the faces had red X’s through then. Sterling pointed at the one that did not.

“Oh!” Snake said as he examined the photo and compared it to the screen. “Yeah, could be the same man. Could be not as well.”

“Find him and I’ll deal with that.”

“Sure boss.” Snake shrugged noncommittally, “Where was this taken?”

“Best that you don’t want to know.”

Snakes laughed, “Boss, listen. I appreciate what you do and how you prefer to keep things to yourself. But the more I know, the more you get – it’s that simple. I have done work for you, and I haven’t heard a complaint yet, or a question of my word. What you say stays with me. But you want to play “I love a mystery” and I can’t guarantee results”

Sterling smiled, “Right. Desert side of Bellerophon. Some Chwen (fools) tried to swindle me out of merchandise. I took care of them, but didn’t recover the goods. After the deed was done, these people showed up. I was gonna detonate the whole place, but then this image grabbed my attention. So … can you find him?”

Snake scrolled the image back to look around. “That’s a ship in the background – a transport. Looks like an emblem with an “R” on it.” He continued to work, increasing the image, decreasing back and forth. “Probably a Firefly or a Dragonfly, judging by the thrusters.”

“That narrows it down.” Sterling nodded approvingly.

Snake laughed outloud, “Not really boss. You know how many Firefly’s there are in the verse? I ain’t talking the unregistered ones either.” He zoomed in on the ship, closer and closer, enhancing the image as he went. “Bingo!”

“Got something?”

“Someone. Another person in the shot, but in the back. All you can see is her face.”

“I only care about the guy.”

“You care about her. Look!” Snake leaned back away from the blown up image. "Look how she is dressed, the hair and the eyes. She is a Companion."

“What’s a Companion doing on a transport ship?”

“Don’t know. Since she didn’t join them, maybe a passenger. Either way, she’s the ticket.”

“How so?”

“Companions are easier to find than flies than on a dead man. The guild tracks all movement, all transactions. If I can find her, I can find your guy.”

Sterling smiled and pressed his fingers together under his chin, “Excellent. Do your work, keep me posted and when you find him, tell me and only me.”

“Gotcha Boss.”

Willow kept up her act of scared mouse-wife, but inside, her mind was on a fast burn, considering her options. Her old status, training and anesthetic-filled hairpin meant that Willow had never been taken unwillingly, but her status meant nothing now. Training and knockout drops would have to do, in a pinch. Damned if she had taken from her what she wasn’t willing to give.

“You sure be pretty,” the bald headed man breathed into her face, demonstrating an urgent need for a dentist, “ I bet your Kai Tze won’t mind sharing.”

“Zee!” Another man shouted, which drew Willow’s eyes to Kora. “We’s want to move on. Wei Shan Dohn Woo. (Big Danger)

The man called Zee seemed confused as he dropped Willow’s arm and asked, “She’s your Kai Tze?”

That was really all Willow needed. Before he’d even finished his question, she stepped quickly off to the side, back into the crush of people, bags and packages swinging from her arms. As best as she could, she maneuvered through the throngs of people towards Kora. If Zee tries to pursue, she’ll do her best to evade his grasp again.

The man called Zee seemed confused as he dropped Willow’s arm and asked, “She’s your Kai Tze?”

Kora was slightly amused by his question and smiled inwardly as Willow slipped from his distracted grasp to disappear into the throng of people.

“I am” ,she said with a scowl, taking note that Willow was making her way to where she and the bald man stood. “and you’re right about one thing…she sure is pretty…but I ain’t willin’ to share.”

Zee’s friend stepped closer to him and elbowed him as he nodded to Kora’s tattoo.
The man’s eyes widened slightly at the sight but Kora wasn’t sure if it was because he’d heard the rumors of how ruthless the Ghost Riders were or because a female bore the mark of one.
Either way…she hoped she didn’t have to say much more as Willow slipped in silently behind her.

Zee’s face grew red as Kora clasped Willow’s wrist and pulled her possessively to her side.
His bloodshot eyes moved from Kora’s arm to Willow’s face while he fingered the pistol situated in the worn leather holster on his side.

“C’mon Zee, let’s just drop this…Tze sah Yu ji” (It’ll be the death of us) his friend pleaded.
“She ain’t armed man”

Zee eyed Kora with contempt…”Oh she’s armed a’right...’cept it ain’t wi no gun”. He said accusingly as he glared at the tattoo on her arm. He spit on the ground near Kora’s feet and wiped the brown tobacco juice from his mouth with the back of his hand.

A slight smile curled the edge of Kora’s lips as she fondled the handle of the hidden blade with her free hand, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Zee and his friend.

“Your friend’s a smart man” she said as she stared him dead in the eye. “I am Wei Shan Dohn Woo. (Big Danger) “ And if you don’t want to find out just how much, stranger…move on now.”

Zee’s hand moved to unrest the pistol on his side but just as he plucked it from it’s nesting place Kora had released Willow’s arm and delivered a round house kick to the big man sending him spinning to the dusty soil. The small crowd who had been watching in anticipation scurried to get out of the way as Zee’s huge frame thudded to the ground. Willow let out a small gasp as she hurriedly backed out of the way. Kora stood ready for retaliation as the man slowly picked himself up from the ground. After several seconds he stood before her, knees wobbling and gunless.
Glowering at the two women, he said “this ain’t over” and turned with his friend to walk away.

Beaumonde, Thrasher City, East Central Market, 2:00 PM ET
Some times they walk away
“Your friend’s a smart man” she said as she stared him dead in the eye. “I am Wei Shan Dohn Woo. (Big Danger) “And if you don’t want to find out just how much, stranger…move on now.”

Zee’s hand moved to the pistol on his side. Kora moved with reflexes trained deep and hard within her, and delivered a round house kick to the big man head, sending him spinning to the ground. It wasn’t all that difficult to knock the man down, considering his drunken state. There was a moment that passed, as Zee wrestled in his mind between the humiliation of being dump on the ground by a woman in a crowded place, and the severe possibility of it happening again.

Kora stood ready for retaliation as the man slowly picked himself up from the ground. The other man came and put a firm arm on his shoulder to help him make the decision to walk away. “Ain’t worth it Zee.”

Zee nodded reluctantly, “Right Hzi. You’re right.” He staggered back then turned around, as of he forgot something. He looks at Willow. “I’m sorry Lady. Had a bit too much today. Didn’t mean no harm.” Then he glower at Kora, his look at her said “this ain’t over” before turning with his brother to walk away.

Willow and Kora found themselves with all eyes upon them. Many people were muttering and staring, and the mute fear in their eyes was a sight not unfamiliar to Kora.


Beaumonde, Thrasher City, Idoru Bar, 2:00 PM ET
Date? Boy, I’m a sure thing
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 area in the back was simple enough. Two bedrooms created by slapped up drywall and thermal foam for “soundproofing”. Another lady was in the back, older than Beth and not as voluptuous, her vibrant blonde hair could only be from a bottle. She was brushing her teeth in a pull out sink and she winked slyly at Beth as the two of you enter.

"Miss Beth," Asher 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."

Beth looked at Asher with disbelief. “You playing with me Kid? I ain’t no innocent young farm girl you know. I sell my back side and give half to owner of this dive. You pay the coin, I’m yours, anyway you want. I’m no companion. You want to take me away for a spell, I need the funds to hand over, or else my backside will be switched. So you want to cover for your gentleman like ways, I need to see the coin.”

(assuming some inquiry as to how much)
The other lady spat out toothpaste and laughed, “Oh go on Beth. I’ll cover your ass while your gone, and it ain’t like we’s got a humpin line up.”

Beth looked over, “You sure?”

“Go girl. We ain’t likely to get many a gentleman in here again. Take him while you can.”

Beth smiled at Asher, “Let me get my coat.”


Beaumonde, Thrasher City Space Dock, 2:15 PM ET
When the Dealin’Done
“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.”

“Nah,” Dash 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?”

The two men made arrangement to meet Grif back at the Docks later than evening, after they had (hopefully) emptied their cargo bay. Leaving the young Asher to his distraction, the two friends amble their way back to Rocinante. They arrive at the docks just as Kora and Willow return with the groceries and provisions in tow. The Patrol of alliance soldiers are continuing their search of the ground level of the docks, but they have moved on to another section. Wyatt and Sam hear the dockworkers talking about an order coming down to open all ships to search that docked before 10:00 am today. That would exclude Rocinante, but not the Royale. Hopefully, Griffith has nothing to hide in there.

OOC: There you go. A moving forward post. My next post will be Willow, Wyatt and whoever wants to go along – meeting with Dodger and dealing with your cargo.

Asher- How long do you want your “date” to go? What is your budget for the event?

Willow’s guile may have confused her “admirer”, but in the end, it was Kora’s dead eyed stare and well placed kick that defused the situation. Willow let out her breath as Zee turned to leave at his brother’s urging. “I’m sorry Lady. Had a bit too much today. Didn’t mean no harm, ” He tried to explain, but his glare to Kora belied his mild words.

“And so no harm has been done, yes? Gentlemen? No need to involve the authorities,” replied Willow her tone as icy as her eyes. When the men finally strode away, Willow nodded briskly and took Kora’s arm in a conspiratorial “just us girls” manner. As the two women headed back to ship, Willow murmured to Kora,” Now wasn’t that nice to have a stroll in the market? I’m sure we don’t want to bother the captain with the petty little details of our day, hmm? He’ll just get all manner of grumpy-like, and who wants to deal with that nonsense?”

(Assuming agreement…otherwise, can back post).

Walking up the ramp into the cargo area, Willow let go of Kora’s arm after a friendly squeeze and called out loud, “Auntie? We’ve got your veg and your rice and such! If I put away the groceries, will you make lotus seed dumplings for dessert? And you should have seen this fabric shop I found! All kinds of wool and silks and such! You would have had your needles itching for this fabric and…”

Willow chattered away happily as she moved into the depths of the ship, her back straight and arms graceful with their burden of bags and packages. Already her mind was on getting ready again for the meeting with Dodger. It was if being accosted was really of no great matter to her, and already forgotten.

“…heard ‘bout an order comin’ down that says all boats docked before 10’re s’posed ta open up an’ submit ta a full scan an’ search.”

Dash flicked a sidelong glance in the direction of the group of dockworkers as they passed, then, as his gaze panned suspiciously along the docks, he nudged Wyatt; “Ya hear that, Cap?”

(assuming a nod or some other “affirmative” from Wyatt)

“Yeah, I know,” Sam returned as they neared the slips where Rocinante and Royale sat side by side, “We harbored in after 10 but what about Griff? Th’ way them Feds was peekin’ inta th’ cracks earlier din’t exactly put my mind ta ease, y’know… an’ yer ruttin’ luck o’ three ain’t helpin’ ta keep me simmered none. S’posin’ Griff’s not as all-fired up front about this deal as we’re thinkin’… s’posin’ this ice-run’s a fair sight more’n what he says…” Sam paused on the gangplank that sloped up towards Rocinante’s main cargo bay, leaned against the bulkhead and, hooking his thumbs over his belt, gave a long, scrutinizing look at the beat up Dragonfly berthed on the next pad over. Call me twitchy, he said to himself as his gaze wandered, once more, to Royale’s ruined thruster, but twitchy’s kept me suckin’ oxygen fer this long…
Sam didn’t say anything more to Wyatt about his misgivings, though. His friend was already bunched up enough with his own superstitions and, over the year or so that they’d been together, Sam had learned to keep some thoughts to himself so as to keep Wyatt’s superstitious nature from getting too riled up. “Ai ya… Don’ mind me, Cap,” Sam said without turning to see if Wyatt was still behind him, “I’m prob’ly just worryin’ bout nothin’.

Holler if’n ya need me, a’ight?”

(room for interjections, etc, throughout…backposts as necessary)

Rocinante’s pilot lingered in her shadow for a long moment and, absently rubbing the whiskers along his jaw, studied the Royale and watched the activity on the docks. He had a knot in his stomach, he realized, but he wasn’t sure if it was because the Feds snooping around made him nervous, or maybe something about this job they’d picked up from Griff wasn’t sitting well with him… Nah, Dash noted as he pushed away from the bulkhead, there’s more to it than that. His gaze drifted from the farther end of the Thrasher City docks, took in Royale and her humped thruster once more, then, slid towards Rocinante’s interior, following the sound of the footsteps and voices within…

Wyatt was checking over the shipment of ruttin’ sten bolts they’d been stuck with and, with a hand from Wil’s, puhn yoh, Dodger, might yet have a chance at swinging a profit on. The Cap had been a little quiet, Sam thought, but, given the way he figured Wyatt’s mind worked (what with the superstitions accounted for and all) that wasn’t too awful surprising. Sung’d speak up when he needed to…

For her part, the Doc’s musical voice could still be heard, chirping away at Trish, who presumably would be meeting Miss Willow in the kitchen after that songbird summons. Dash watched her as she glided across the catwalk and eventually disappeared out of site behind the mechanicals of the ship and through the portal to the common area. Sam didn’t always hear everything that Willow said – she got a might wordy, now and again – but he did love to watch her talk…

Kora, Dash noticed had just disappeared across the cargo bay, carrying a crate of this and that for the ship… Likely headed off for the engine room as ta get all greasy and slipperified agin, he mused…

“Hey,” he hollered at the mechanic, picking up his pace as he crossed the bay to catch up with her, “hold up, mei mei! Lemme give ya a hand.”

(Assuming Kora waits… if not, when Dash catches up…)

When he reached the woman, he offered a broad, crooked grin and draped an arm around her shoulders as his freehand reached for the box of parts and tilted it towards him to allow a better view of its contents. “So wha’d ya get, bao bei (darlin’),” he asked, “anythin’ good? I don’ see no batteries fer yer little buzzin’ boyfriend in there, are ya sure ya seen the whole market?”

(any reply, of course… but, assuming that last bit doesn’t end with Kora leaving Dash unconscious)

“Listen,” Dash continued, smirking a bit, “Seein’ as Royale’s all busted ta hump, it looks as we’re likely ta pick up a job from Griff. We’re gonna be pickin’ up some fuel cells from ‘im later an’ some gorram deep-freezer-whatchamahoozits. Give them things a real good goin’ over, would ya? The Cap seems ta be right cozy with it but somethin’ about it jus’ don’t sit right, get me?”

(anything)

“Shiny,” he said, letting Kora out from under his arm as he turned to head for the opposite end of the ship, “I’m gonna go run some looky-loos onna nav an’ conn… Oh, an’ hey! If’n ya get around ta it, let’s get a look at th’ forward hull. Knowin’ that Roc’s all buttoned up ‘fore I go flyin’ us up a comet’s ass is like ta make ev’rybody a might more cozy, get me?”

(And we’ll leave it there… Sam’s off to run his flight diagnostics, etc, and await further orders. Dash ain’t a negotiator so he won’t be offended if he’s left outta the trip to see Dodger…)

Kora didn’t slow down. The crate was bulky and she knew when Dash said “lemme give ya a hand” most likey it meant, “lemme see what ya got in them crates”

When he reached the woman, he offered a broad, crooked grin and draped an arm around her shoulders as his freehand reached for the box of parts and tilted it towards him to allow a better view of its contents. “So wha’d ya get, bao bei (darlin’),” he asked, “anythin’ good? I don’ see no batteries fer yer little buzzin’ boyfriend in there, are ya sure ya seen the whole market?”

Kora feigned a smile and elbowed Dash’s ribs as she pulled the box away from his prying eyes.
“None of your business” she said sarcastically. “You’ll just have to be surprised like everybody else, Don’t you have something you could be doing besides annoying me?” she said as Dash rubbed his side in mock pain. (took a liberty here with Dash’ s actions)

A reluctant grin curled the edge of her mouth and she rolled her eyes at his theatrics. It seemed he always knew how to make her laugh even when he was being his worst. When she first arrived on the Roc she was certain she and Dash would never get along and more often than not that was the case. He was so full of himself, so cocky she was immediately turned off but as time went by, slowly they had come to an ‘understanding’ of sorts. He wouldn’t tell her how to mend the Roc and she wouldn’t tell him how to fly it.. They had become like brother and sister.
Though she wouldn’t admit it, she loved having him around.

“Listen,” Dash continued, smirking a bit, “Seein’ as Royale’s all busted ta hump, it looks as we’re likely ta pick up a job from Griff. We’re gonna be pickin’ up some fuel cells from ‘im later an’ some gorram deep-freezer-whatchamahoozits. Give them things a real good goin’ over, would ya? The Cap seems ta be right cozy with it but somethin’ about it jus’ don’t sit right, get me?”

Kora’s brow furrowed as Dash voiced his concerns. “I’ll get to it as soon as I’m done here” she said.


“Shiny,” he said, letting Kora out from under his arm as he turned to head for the opposite end of the ship, “I’m gonna go run some looky-loos onna nav an’ conn… Oh, an’ hey! If’n ya get around ta it, let’s get a look at th’ forward hull. Knowin’ that Roc’s all buttoned up ‘fore I go flyin’ us up a comet’s ass is like ta make ev’rybody a might more cozy, get me?”

Kora smiled at his analogy and hurried to get the rest of the crates on board. "Looks like it's going to be a long night" she muttered to herself."

As Beth went to grab her coat, Asher flashed the other woman a smile of thanks, before pulling out his communicator.

I hope Willow ain’t tied up at the moment. He thought as he tried to reach her.

[OOC: Assuming Willow picks up…]

“Hey! Willow! It’s Ash.” The lad spoke excitedly. “I need some advice. Got myself some company and I’m looking to treat her right, right?”

[OOC: Assuming some affirmative response…]

“Right.” Ash continued. “I’m looking for a decent place to eat around here. Know of any place to treat a girl right?”

[OOC: Assuming some answer, like “Oh, well, there is this place over here… no, wait… there’s a nice spot over there… or you could take her that nice little place down over there…”]

Asher interrupted the doctor, “Gotcha! Thanks! Oh! And could you do me one more favor? Could you make sure my bunk is set right to receive company? I thinking we’ll be dropping by after a bite to eat… and I want to make a good impression… and you’re just… good with… the details of things like this…”

[OOC: Assuming some interruption from Willow, either positive or negative…]

“Alright then!” Asher noticed Beth coming back. “Thanks, hey! Oh, and tell the Capt I’ll be back ‘round early evening. Gotta go!”

Asher put his communicator back and smiled at Beth. A real date! He was looking forward to his afternoon.

Humming softly to herself and Trish, Willow had just about finished her task of putting away the groceries when Asher’s call came through the ship’s comm.

“Hey! Willow! It’s Ash.” The lad spoke excitedly. “I need some advice. Got myself some company and I’m looking to treat her right, right?”

”Good for you, dear! A young man needs new friends, doesn’t he?” Willow winked at Trish, who grinned through the scar tissue around her mouth.

“Right.” Ash continued. “I’m looking for a decent place to eat around here. Know of any place to treat a girl right?”

”Sunni’s Noodle House over by the market should be good. It’s above the street level so not too noisy and I’ve heard that the meat is actually real. Of course, that’s like asking a preacher for advice on giving birth so I can’t guarantee the meat choices. The fries are awesome though, and the bill shouldn’t break you. “

Asher interrupted the doctor, “Gotcha! Thanks! Oh! And could you do me one more favor? Could you make sure my bunk is set right to receive company? I thinking we’ll be dropping by after a bite to eat… and I want to make a good impression… and you’re just… good with… the details of things like this…”

Willow’s knowing smile could be heard over the comm., and Trish’s head was bowed as she shook it back and forth slowly. If she could still make sounds, she’d have been chuckling. “Asher, dear, you can trust me to set the right mood, never you mind! Go have fun…and if she’s a working girl, look for her health certificate posted where she finds her customers, hmm? Otherwise, we’ll be giving you meds for a week.”

“Alright then!” Asher sounded distracted and Willow wasn’t sure he’d heard that last part. “Thanks, hey! Oh, and tell the Capt I’ll be back ‘round early evening. Gotta go!”

Willow turned off the comm and looked to Trish, who was still grinning. ‘Well, I now have a few more things to do! May I be excused from grocery duty, Auntie?” As Trish patted Willow’s arm with “go on, get” tilt of her head, Willow leaned in and kissed the older woman on the cheek. “That’s for understanding.” She then raised herself on her toes to kiss Trish’s forehead.”And that’s for the crystal dumplings!”

This time, Trish swatted Willow on the bottom, and the doctor laughed merrily as she swept from the kitchen. Once back to her room, she moved to her computer screen and called up Sunni’s Noodle House on the cortex. A smooth faced hostess answered, and Willow asked for Sunipta Srinadathan. Since few people knew Sunni’s proper name, the hostess looked puzzled before she was pushed aside. A Pan Asian woman peered into the lens, the closeup showing small signs of age that distance had concealed.

“Who’s asking for me? Who’s there? Why, you’re Usha’s girl! Sunipta Takahara, how are you, girl? How’s the family? No, go away (this part said off lens to the hostess) I can take a call from family without your help!”

Willow smiled widely at the screen and ducked her head before responding,” I am well, Auntie Sun and so is Usha. I am sure she would love a call from you.” Aunt and niece chatted for a bit before Willow moved to the purpose of her call. “Auntie, I have a young friend coming over with a date. I’d appreciate it if you were to take good care of him and make him look important for his lady friend, hmm? Serve him the good stuff instead of the tourist fare, and I’ll make up the difference on the bill. He’s just starting in the world, so a little rough on the edges, but he’s dear to me.”

“Describe him to me and I’ll take care of everything. I’ll watch the door for him, so this stupid girl won’t send him away if he doesn’t tip her. Tell me, Sunipta “Call-me-Willow”, were you the last girl to be born smart AND pretty? Those pouffy lipped stick girls have no brains!”

Willow chatted some more before signing off. As casual and languid as she often appeared to others, she moved quickly now as time trickled away from her. She gathered some supplies into a carrysac and headed over to Asher’s room.

Stepping down the ladder, she took a moment to survey the room. “At least there’s no girlie pics to take down,” she murmured to herself, then set to work. Although the bed was made with relatively clean sheets, she stripped it and remade it with silk sheets and a wine red coverlet from her own supply. Silk scarves draped over the (heatless) lights softened the lighting to a rosy glow, and Willow lit a small incense stick to purify the room. She timed it carefully, having long ago worked out with Kora the precise amount of burning she could do before the freshers were stressed. Pinching out the stick with wet fingers, she tucked the remaining incense away and brought out a vial of ylang ylang oil, letting a few drops settle onto pillows and sheets to subtly enhance the room’s mood.

Lastly, she swept the zines and books from a nearby table and set down a silver tray. On the tray she set two glasses and a bottle of sake. It was still corked and sealed, and Willow left it that way, to assure the “date” that she wasn’t being doped. It was one of her last bottles, but she’d been asked a favour and Willow didn’t stint.

Taking a last look around, Willow nodded then dashed to her room. She’d taken hours to get ready for Dodger earlier, and now she had minutes to repair the day’s damage.

OOC: Using “Friends in High Places” with the owner of the restaurant

“Looks like it’s gonna be a long night,” Dash heard Kora mutter as he ambled off towards the front of the ship.

“Name me a night of late that ain’t been, mei mei,” he chuckled, “Least we might get some supper that ain’t all pasty-like, tonight.” The pilot grinned at that thought and, the nearer he got to the galley and dining room, the wider that grin got…especially when he discovered that Willow and Trish were still in the midst of stowing all the groceries.

Dash had almost stopped outside the dining room door when he heard a voice other than the Doc’s coming from the galley – his hand had dropped instinctively to the butt of his pistol – until he realized that the other voice belonged to the Kid.

“…I thinking we’ll be dropping by after a bite to eat,” Ash’s voice filtered through the comm as Dash stepped through the door, “and I want to make a good impression… and you’re just… good with… the details of things like this…”

Trish’s head was bowed as she shook it back and forth slowly. If she could still make sounds, she’d have been chuckling.

“Asher, dear,” Willow replied, that luscious smile of hers adding just that much more sexy to her voice, “you can trust me to set the right mood, never you mind! Go have fun…and if she’s a working girl, look for her health certificate posted where she finds her customers, hmm? Otherwise, we’ll be giving you meds for a week.”

Rolling his eyes as he strode towards the counter to inspect (and possibly pilfer something from) the assortment of groceries, Sam grinned wryly at Trish when the older woman glanced in his direction. “Baaa-aaa-aaa-a-aaa,” he bleated, “Kid’s a goat, Ma!”

“Alright then!” Asher sounded distracted and Sam flicked a glance in Willow’s direction to see if she might be prompted to repeat the part about the meds. “Thanks, hey! Oh, and tell the Capt I’ll be back ‘round early evening. Gotta go!”

Trish raised a finger to her lips, signaling for Sam to “hush your mouth, boy,” then, and with the same hand, slapped him squarely on the wrist as he reached out to snatch a Fruity Oaty Bar from a box still on the counter.

“Ow,” Sam said, quickly withdrawing his hand and turning his eyes quickly back to Trish, “ta ma duh (damn)! Jeez, Ma! I’m a growin’ boy… least I will be later once this boat starts smellin’ like grease an’ grapplin’… I need my energy!”

Trish offered a scolding smile and shooed him away as if to say, “No snacks; you’ll spoil your supper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam relinquished, offering a smile to Trish and a wink to Miss Willow as he continued on towards the cockpit, “bai lih mohn (wishful thinking), I know.”

He tugged a tarnished harmonica from his pocket as he stepped out of the dining area and onto the foredeck, put the thing to his lips and, following a fairly decent if relatively easy series of notes reminiscent of a train chugging along, broke into a tuneless song that was more typical of his skill (or, rather, lack of skill) on the instrument. Behind him, he heard Willow excuse herself from stowing the rest of the groceries, thank Trish for the crystal dumplings (which of course prompted his stomach to growl), and, as he returned the harmonica to his pocket and flopped down in the pilot’s seat, felt his neck tingle as Willow glided onto the foredeck behind him… the scent of her perfume, ushered by the air cycling through Roc’s ventilation system, wafted into the cockpit before she disappeared through the door to her cabin.

Smiling faintly and shoving some decidedly naughty thoughts aside, Dash swiveled himself into position behind Rocinante’s flight console. “Ni how, darlin’,” he whispered as his fingers waltzed across the console and initiated some pre-programmed diagnostic routines on the Firefly’s navsat systems, “looks like we’re saddlin’ up fer a burn an’ earn. Let’s make sure yer all shiny before we go doin’ th’ two-step with a ruttin’ comet’s tail, a’ight?”

The console blipped, almost as if the ship were offering a reply to her pilot’s commentary, as the diagnostics began to run.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, feeling Rocinante’s systems surge to life as he crawled under the console and unscrewed an access panel so he could get a good look at the control relays and check their integrity, “How shi sung cheng(a good show’s about to start), huh? He patted the underside of the console empathetically with one hand as the other reached in and delicately fingered the various wiring harnesses and control structures inside; “Nothin’ we can’t handle, though, ol’ girl… just gotta make sure yer skirts is all hemmed up so we don’t go trippin’ on the dance floor…”

((OOC: Just posting because I can. Dash’ll make sure that there’s nothing obviously out of whack with controls and nav, of course, and perform any necessary tweaks. If he gets that done before the meet with Dodger, he’ll do what he can to help Kora with whatever else might need done… i.e. inspecting the forward hull, etc…))

OOC: As with the other game, I am sorry for the delay. RL sucked me in and spun me around these last couple of weeks. Glad to be back.

Meeting the Dodger
Dodger’s place of business was in the seedy side of town, where Dodger had been born. “I be born 'ere, Mon, and I be buried 'ere Mon!” He would exclaim if anyone asked why he remained here.

Wyatt, Sam and Willow entered the establishment, a basic building that could be a residence or a business and did not stand out to anyone on the street. Willow was dressed to the nines and looking her best. Sam was doing his level best to not be distracted, which was barely avoiding walking into light poles and brick walls while admiring her walk from behind.

At the doorway inside, you are met by Dodger’s bodyguards, Hack and Slash. Hack was a huge giant of a Chinese man, head shaved except a long bound top-knot and well honed muscles covering his body. He dressed in deep blue Wu-Shun trousers with vest and walked with a graceful precision of a cat. Slash was also a large man, Caucasian by descent. His right eye, left arm and upper half of his chest were all replaced with cybernetics. He dresses only in red boxer type shorts and crisscrossing leather straps that held two Dao Broadswords on his back. Slash made no move towards you as you entered, merely watching you through the red optic of his artificial eye.

Hack bowed to you respectfully and motioned to a table by the door. You had been here before and you knew the rules, no guns pass this point. There is no point arguing the issue and it is a matter of honour in Dodger’s house that no one goes in armed.

Once inside, the office is a smoky place, with many drapes and curtains giving the oversize place a feeling of many rooms. Dodger leans on his desk awaiting you. He is a tall man, black skinned and dressed in a t-shirt and pants of a multitude of banded colours. He smiles broadly as you enter. “Captain Wyatt Mon! Good to see you?” He steps forward to shake hands. “Sam! ‘Ow you doin’ Mon! Nice Shirt! ‘Ow long you ‘ave to wear to win de bet?” He asks with a hearty laugh. Then he lays eyes upon Willow and he whistles slowly, “Willow, my my my. You are looking fine Girl.” He shoots a look back at Wyatt, “You are an unfair man, mon. Bring a beautiful woman to my ‘ome like dis, ‘ow am I suppose to talk business wit’ a clear ‘ead?” He laughs again while strolling around his desk to sit down. “Can I offer you a drink? Smoke? Other pleasures?” He asks still laughing infectiously.

(Assume some small talk here. Dodger serves only the best to his guests)

“So. Willow say you ‘ave some cargo you need moved. Whatcha got Mon that be burning a ‘ole in your ‘ull?”

(assuming you brought a sample to show)

Dodger looks at the stem bolt critically. He leans over and turns on a lamp. The light form the lamp is a dark one, but it illuminates writing on the stem bolt that was otherwise invisible. He looks at the writing for a long time, and then starts laughing again. He looks over to you with a smile, but the look in his eyes is no longer as warm.

“Willow! You sly vixen. What you be tryin’ to do to me 'ere?”

On the Ship
Trish re-organizes the goods within the cupboards of the galley. Willow was a dear for wanting to help, but Trish had a system for organizing and she preferred to do it herself. Plus it was important to hide some of the stock away or else Asher or Sam could eat them out of a week’s worth of food in one sitting. She shook her head at the memory of her finding Sam and Asher once eating concentrated protein paste out of the tube. She shuddered at the memory.

Speaking of protein paste, Trish noticed something strange. She has five of the small jars left, hidden in the back cupboard and as she removed them to rotate them with the fresh bought jars, she noted that one was open and half empty. Those boys! If they are going to eat my gorram stash, they could at least not put an open package back!

Meanwhile, Kora worked on the engine, happily grease covered and thinking at the same time. Captain mentioned they would be heading to Frisco on Regina – which was where an old army buddy of hers lived, last she heard. She wondered if Shakespeare was still there. She also wondered how he was doing. So many of the survivors had turned to one vice or another after the war.

The Date
OOC: I added some conversation but you may embellish afterwards
Beth looked up at the sign of the restaurant that Asher had brought her. She stopped in her place. “Asher? You don’t mean this Sunni’s Noodle House?”

The Kid looked at her and up at the sign, “Is there another?”

“No but …”

“Well then” The young man gestures and walks up the stairs. Beth follows looking very bewildered.

Inside, the restaurant has a waiting area, which is a sign of trouble to Asher. In fact, the waiting area is quite fancy and posh, with a coat check (that actually takes coats, mind you) and a well dressed lady at the doorway to the entrance. She looks at the young couple dubiously. “Yes? Can I help you?”

(assuming some sort of “we’d like a table”)

The young girl looks at Asher with a barely concealed scorn. “What is your name? You have reservations? We are quite busy right now.”

As she looks at her book with insincere disappointment, a diminutive woman comes up beside her. A Pan-Asian woman of some years, and a very determined look about her. “What are you doing, girl?” She says loudly and pushes the young girl out of the way. She comes to Asher directly and takes his hand, “You must be Asher Talhone, am I right, of course I am. Come, come! I have a table set aside for you, very special, away from the common place people we put near the kitchens.” As she says that she stops at the shocked expressions of a couple dining that overheard her comment. “Marcus, darling, you are looking well. Hilda, my goodness, you have gained a ton. More soup, less pork buns for you, darling.” She says with a wide smile and then smoothly glides to a room off to the side of the main dining room.

The room is set up for two, with candles and fine china. A bottle of sake sits on a warmer within reach of the table. “Come now, come, come. Please sit down. Let me take your coats.” The tiny woman says as you move to sit down, “You girl!” She shouts at a passing server who stops in her tracks to accept the coats unceremoniously tossed at her. “Go! Hang these up and tell Mina I want a special dinner for two for the guests of the Takahara family.” She turns back to the couple, “I took the liberty of putting out sake for you. I am not sure what you drink on that ship of yours, but I am sure it is dreadful. Bathtub gin, I am sure!”

“I am Auntie Sun, you are my guests. Tonight, you will be dazzled and amazed by a culinary masterpiece like no other. I am inspired, darlings, merely inspired! I want to create an evening of enjoyment for you like no other.” She gestures wildly around the room, then her eyes settle on Beth, “My, aren’t you a healthy one with the bosoms? No no, no modesty. It is good to be proud of the assets one is given. No plastic women here!” She turns to leave the room, “be sure to sample the hargow as it is real shrimp, grown on premises darling. The pork, well we all have our limits. I’ll be back shortly to see how you are doing. If you are not stuffed to bursting, then I will have failed!”

Willow glided back to her room and began to change with what for her was unseemly haste. Clothes flew every which way as the former Companion sought to cleanse every trace of the market from her person. As she reached for the salmar kameez she'd set aside earlier, she spotted the start of finger sized bruises forming on the inner side of her upper arm. "Pisht!," she muttered to herself and glanced at the little Buddha sitting impassively amongst her cosmetics. "He didn't need to be so rough! I might have gone with him if he'd only asked nicely." When Buddha refused to look convinced, she made a little face and reached for witch hazel to dab on the marks. "Well, I might have, but he was awful drunk. He would not have remembered, and I am always memorable."

Fortunately, she'd been able to preserve her makeup, so after sliding into the tailored kameez, she only had to re-arrange her hair and apply fresh scent. Ignoring Wyatt's pointed look at his watch, Willow joined Wyatt and Sam in the cargo bay precisely on time. Enjoying Sam's open admiration of her outfit's precise fit, she lowered her lashes at him in not quite a wink before placing a delicate hand on Sung's proffered wrist. "Shall we, Captain?" she murmured, letting the captain lead them out of the ship and into the night air.

She walked at a stately pace through the streets, a vision of grace with a gentleman at her side and another following close behind. She tried to ignore the seediness of the streets and thought back to the many glittering parties she'd attended in such finery, wondering again at the path her choices had brought her. If she felt any sadness, it didn't show on her schooled expression of polite interest.

Still, Dodger was a delight, and he greeted them with open arms. Wyatt and Dash were treated to vigorous hand shakes, before Willow took the big man's hands to lean in and brush both cheeks lightly with a kiss and a murmured "JA keep you, Dodger, dear." She breathed in his scent of coconut, rum, and spice warm with the underlying musk of male animal, and felt a flare of desire. As she let go of his hands and turned away, Dodger's left hand fell casually to brush her hip and buttock, a seeming accident. She walked over to his desk, following the others, but let her hips roll like the sea as she did so. A smoldering glance thrown over her shoulder confirmed that Dodger had noticed.

"You are an unfair man, mon," Dodger laughed at Sung, but his eyes were on Willow. "Bring a beautiful woman to my 'ome like dis, 'ow am I suppose to talk business wit' a clear 'ead?" He laughs again while strolling around his desk to sit down. "Can I offer you a drink? Smoke? Other pleasures?" He asks, the deep laugh making Willow's insides all shivery.

Willow smiles at the compliment, but shakes her head knowingly, setting herself on a corner of the desk instead of a chair. As was fitting, she let Sung and Dash accept whatever hospitality they chose, and took none for herself. When it was the right time, the Captain would turn over the discussion to her. This was a dance like no other, and Willow knew the steps.

(OOC: leaving room for Brom and Eol to add whatever convo they want to )

When Dodger leans in to examine the bolt, Willow is watching his body language, but is confident that a good deal can be made. The mark on the bolt changes all that, and Dodger is less friendly when he looks up. "Willow! You sly vixen. What you be tryin' to do to me 'ere?"

She was too good the let the shock show on her face, nor would she make the rookie mistake of looking to the Captain. Instead, she let her smile widen as she leaned forward and placed a pliant hand on Dodger's tense forearm. She moved slowly, so that her scent had a chance to reach him before she replied.

"Dodger, darlin', if I were attempting to "do" you, there'd be no mistaking it for anything else. I told the captain, if anyone could move marked goods and get close to market value, it's Dodger, and so here we are," Willow purred, stroking Dodger's arm lightly. "We hadn't gotten to talking about price yet, and we had no intention of hiding anything. With me, sweetness, what you see is what you get."

Willow widened her green gold eyes at Dodger, her meaning clear.

OOC: Will stop here for interjections and Dodger's response.

Sam leaned against the railing of the stairway that led from the cargobay floor to the catwalk high above and, for perhaps the tenth time in as many minutes, pulled his pistol from its holster, checked the cylinder to verify that, yes, Sam, you did load your gun. Satisfied, once again, that he wouldn’t be leaving Roc nekkid, he spun the pistol on his finger and stuffed it back into the holster at his hip. “What is it with these women-folk as makes ‘em take so gorram long ta get ready, anyways, Cap,” he asked Wyatt, “I mean, what’s so ruttin’ hard? Throw on a clean shirt. Brush yer teeth. Boom! Yer done, right?”

The grin on the pilot’s face expressed more anticipation than irritation, of course, but he was only-half joking. In his estimation, Miss Willow looked finer on her worst day than most ladies did on their best and, sometimes, it was beyond him why she felt the need to primp and preen the way she did. Then again, since Dash’s ‘clean shirt’ turned out to be a faded, blue T with a picture of a gorilla wearing a Santa hat and carrying an enormous present, with the words ‘I got a big package’ encircling it, he probably didn’t have a clue as to what kind of thought the Doc actually put into her wardrobe and makeup selections. Sam did have the fashion sense to fix a blue bandana around his head to match the shirt, though.

(any response here or none at all… )

All sense of Dash’s irritation with waitin’ ‘round on women-folk (either real or imagined) disappeared when Willow appeared on the catwalk, though, as did the strength in Dash’s knees and any sense of balance he might’ve claimed to that point. The pilot was chuckling at Wyatt’s response to his grumblings when Dash’s eyes glanced upwards and caught sight of the Companion turned Doctor. Even though he had been securely propped against the stair railing, he somehow managed to slip and stumble as his gaze tracked her across the catwalk and down the steps. “Go-oorram but I’m a baaaaad man,” Sam groaned, forcibly pushing away the dirty thoughts that had just tromped through his mind, “Lookin’ damn fine, Miss Wil. Damn fine!”

He could’ve melted when she lowered her lashes at him in not quite a wink before placing a delicate hand on Sung's proffered wrist. "Shall we, Captain?" she murmured, letting the captain lead them out of the ship and into the night air.

“Uh-huh,” he repeated to himself as he hooked his thumbs over his belt and moseyed out behind the Cap and Miss Ow-my-pants-are-suddenly-too-tight, “All kinds o’ damn fine!”

The stroll to Dodger’s place went without incident – unless one was to count the several near misses with light posts and walls jumping out in front of him that Sam may have had along the way – and, with Willow’s heavenly posterior still framed in his sight, Dash entered the non-descript flop behind Roc’s Captain and designated smooth-talker.

Once inside, Dash tore his eyes from Willow and offered a grin to Dodger’s bodyguards. “Frick,” he smirked, nodding to the silently glowering form of the one called Slash. “Frack. How you fellas doin’?” he addressed Hack, offering another nod along with his sidearm (his reluctance to go unarmed as obvious as usual even if he did comply) and an amused grin at the man’s choice of clothing. “If I’d knowed this party was pants optional, I might’ve come better dressed.”

Sam took an extra moment to slide both derringers and his blade from their hiding places, too, and laid the whole shebang on the table. It made him right uncomfortable to leave all of his hardware behind but he knew that doing business with Dodger required little sacrifices. Sam didn’t trust Dodger, of course, and he sure as hell didn’t trust Hack and Slash any farther than he could throw them but, out of respect for Wyatt, Sam figured he could play along. Besides, distrust aside, Dodger had never done anything to indicate that they’d need to expect trouble. Nonetheless, once he’d made a neat pile of his armaments, he flicked warning glances at both of the bodyguards… “I better get every gorram bit o’ this back, too, dohn ma? Don’ eat it!”… before sidling into the rasta’s office.

Smoke hung in the air as thick as the myriad drapes and curtains that chopped the huge place into many, smaller rooms, and Sam wondered if Dodger was so good at his dealings because them as came to haggle with him might not catch a big damn contact high from all the residual ganja. Dodger was leaning on his desk as they entered, looking as mellow and laid back as he always did, but it didn’t take him long to step forward and greet Wyatt. “Sam,” he smiled, releasing the Cap’s hand and shaking Sam’s, “‘Ow you doin’ Mon! Nice Shirt! ‘Ow long you ‘ave to wear to win de bet?” He asks with a hearty laugh.

“What say, Dodge,” Sam replied, firmly pumping the fixer’s hand and laughing right along with him, “I only gotta wear this ‘til ya stop drinkin’ bong-water an’ fleecin’ every dumb wong ba duhn as walks in here, puhn yoh! Wanna trade?”

As Dodger turned his attentions to Willow (and there they’d lie for most of the remainder, he reckoned) Sam deposited himself in one of the chairs littering the place and propped his feet up on Dodger’s desk. For a long moment, he seemed to scrutinize the Santa Gorilla emblazoned on his chest, then, with a curious look in Wyatt’s direction… “What’s wrong wit’ my shirt,” he asked.

The rastaman took a break from sweet talking Willow long enough to chastise Wyatt for using the woman as an unfair advantage and then, as was Dodger’s way; “Can I offer you a drink? Smoke? Other pleasures?”

“Yeah,” Sam laughed, caught up in the man’s infectious laughter, “how’s about some o’ them shiny underpants as yer dressin’ Frick or Frack in these days? I know me a whorehouse out on Jiangyin where I might could wear somethin’ like that. Mmm… and a beer wouldn’t hurt none, neither… got all the smoke I need hangin’ right here.” He waved a hand in front of his face, carving whirling trails through the smoky haze in the air.

(OOC: backposts and replies as necessary… Sam’s not tryin’ to pick a fight, mind you, just bein’ Sam. Hopefully Dodger knows that. )

With the chit chat and small talk out of the way, Dodger turned his attentions back to Willow and got down to business as it were. “So. Willow say you ‘ave some cargo you need moved. Whatcha got Mon that be burning a ‘ole in your ‘ull?”

Everything seemed to be shiny and going smooth as the cargo sample was handed over for Dodger to inspect but, once he got it under that light of his and got a peek at the markings, something jumped in Sam’s stomach and he suddenly wished he’d kept at least one of his guns. Even though Dodger was laughing and smiling, the man’s eyes had hardened and gone a might unfriendly; “Willow! You sly vixen. What you be tryin’ to do to me 'ere?”

“How w’rin bu lai…” Sam started to think as he casually hauled his feet off the man’s desk, set the beer aside, and made ready to get out of the seat all together if need be. He knew Willow was too good to fumble this thing but it never hurt to be ready…just in case.

((OOC: Sam’s got nothing to add at this point… he ain’t a negotiator, no how, and so is leaving it to Willow and Wyatt to hash that out… he ain’t quite as relaxed as he may have been at first, though…))

Wyatt had spent a good deal of time going over numbers, preparing cargo transfer manifests, and reviewing the sten-bolts containers for both bulk and quality. Near the proper hour, he’d retired to his quarters for a brief moment. Once there, the captain of Rocinante searched about for a handkerchief, finding one in his top drawer. It was a simple white piece of cloth, but one of the corners had his initials delicately embroidered into it in red thread. The sight of the article brought back a flood of memories consisting of happier times when his life had been filled with the smiling faces of the two most important people he’d ever known: Summer and Eden. Eden had embroidered those initials one night while they sat on the porch swing overlooking the land he’d purchased as a wedding gift. Closing his eyes for a moment, Wyatt forced himself to closet those memories knowing full well that to get misty-eyed before a deal was bad luck. When he opened his eyes once more, Sung quickly tied the handkerchief into a knot and stuffed it into his pocket.

“One fer the evil…”

The captain desperately wished that he had some form of protection against business deals running afoul, but to date, he hadn’t found anything that he could carry with him. Most superstitions concerning good fortune consisted of some omen being witnessed, and on board a ship… well, that was more difficult than one might imagine.

As Wyatt briefly straightened the picture of three African elephants from Earth That Was which hung facing the door (another method for bringing good luck to the crew and ship) the corner of his mouth twitched as though a smile were itchin’ to climb out of his scowl. He was remembering a conversation he’d had with Willow and Kora one time when they’d been left drifting in the Black for a couple of days and he was desperate for luck. It had consisted of him falling back on a most improper suggestion hailing from old sailing ship superstitions that indicated good luck for a ship that harbored a naked woman. Wyatt was so frantic to find some break in their bad luck that he’d suggested the two women strip down and provide it… of course, the answers he’d received back had been nothing short of comical and accusing. Shaking his head, Wyatt Sung gave his knotted kerchief another pat and headed for the cargo bay.

He arrived at roughly the same time as Sam and offered his friend a silent nod, receiving the like in kind. They stood quietly leaning against the bulkhead, talking about nothing and inferring a great deal at the same time. They’d been able to do that almost since the time they’d nearly killed each other—where most people feed off of each other’s fear and trepidation, Wyatt and Sam seemed to be able to calm each other.

“What is it with these women-folk as makes ‘em take so gorram long ta get ready, anyways, Cap?” Sam had just holstered his sidearm after checking it for the umpteenth time. “I mean, what’s so ruttin’ hard? Throw on a clean shirt. Brush yer teeth. Boom! Yer done, right?”

Wyatt raised his brows and tipped his hat back on his head, offering Sam a wry grin as he looked the man’s attire over with a critical stare. He’d never really challenged Dash’s fashion expertise; that was plum girly.

“Well, son,” Wyatt drawled. “If’n everyone had yer ability t’ spruce up a bit in such a short ‘mount of time, there’d like be no reason fer them fancy shops. You’d put people outta work quicker than a Ta Ma Duh gunman with finger spasms.”

The two men chuckled at the imagery, but didn’t have long to share in the mirth as Willow came gliding down the catwalk.

“Go-oorram, but I’m a baaaad man,” Sam groaned.

“Shall we, Captain?” Willow stepped off the bottom stair and began to raise her hand. It was a common drill that hadn’t taken Wyatt much time to get the hang of. Eden had expected as much gentlemanly conduct from him in her time as well. Fact of the matter was; Wyatt felt less countrified when he acted like some Tian Di Wu Yohn Central Planet gentleman, so he didn’t mind it much. Taking Willow’s hand on his wrist, he turned and quietly led the way onto the street.

He remained tied up in his own thoughts for the whole of the stroll, quietly manipulating the streets with a watchful eye for any danger and his hogsleg more than showing off his hip in a crossdraw fashion that’d make it easy to achieve while not impeding Willow’s sultry sway.

Inside Dodger’s, he remained equally quiet while the two, large bodyguards retired their weapons and allowed them entry into the businessman’s meeting room. He felt little, but anticipation for the pending meeting, his mind on the possibilities of the dangers they faced going skinned such as they were, the income possibilities, and whether they’d be able to float the boat afterwards. Then his mind passed on to Griff’s ship and the Feds that’d been snooping around the dock. For a time he wondered at his friend’s safety, but only for a time. Then they were in the meeting and greetings were taking place.

“Captain Wyatt Mon! Good to see you?” Dodger stepped forward to shake hands and Wyatt smiled just enough to not offend while remaining businesslike as he accepted.

“Sam! ‘Ow you doin’ Mon! Nice Shirt! ‘Ow long you ‘ave to wear to win de bet?” Dodger asked with a hearty laugh after separating himself from the captain. Then, after Dash has made his usual stamp on the civility level, their host turned to look at Willow and whistled a long, slow note, “Willow, my my my. You are looking fine Girl.” His eyes darted back to Wyatt where they settled with an accusing stare, “You are an unfair man, mon. Bring a beautiful woman to my ‘ome like dis, ‘ow am I suppose to talk business wit’ a clear ‘ead?” His words were softened by a sudden, infectious laugh as he rounded the desk and seated himself.

“Can I offer you a drink? Smoke? Other pleasures?” He asks still laughing. Wyatt waited until Willow had seated herself before taking one of his own near Sam and Willow both. The center position, the seat of power.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed, caught up in the man’s infectious laughter, “how’s about some o’ them shiny underpants as yer dressin’ Frick or Frack in these days? I know me a whorehouse out on Jiangyin where I might could wear somethin’ like that. Mmm… and a beer wouldn’t hurt none, neither… got all the smoke I need hangin’ right here.” He waved a hand in front of his face, carving whirling trails through the smoky haze in the air.

Wyatt felt a sudden urge to smack Dash in the back of the head, but refrained. This was Dodger, he knew Sam so there wouldn’t be no offense taken at the man’s boorish mannerisms. Holding up a hand, Wyatt gave a slight shake of his head to indicate that he was done up right and proper for the moment.

“What’s wrong wit’ my shirt?” Sam asked, drawing Wyatt’s attention to the gorilla and the wording once again. He vaguely remembered having read the quip when he’d first seen Dash in the cargo bay, but it hadn’t registered. Wyatt responded by raising his eyebrows and shrugging.

“So, Willow say you ‘ave some cargo you need moved. Whatcha got Mon that be burning a ‘ole in your ‘ull?”

Wyatt stood halfway from his seat and produced the sten-bolt he’d stowed away for just such an instance. Reaching over the table he handed it to the man and then returned to his seat.

“Good, solid sten-bolts is all. Figured you could get some fair market pricin’ fer the lot of them… got a good five cartons full: five hunnerd, shiny.”

Wyatt watched Dodger examine the item with interest for a moment. Maybe everything was going to go all right after all—“Willow! You sly vixen. What you be tryin’ to do to me 'ere?”—Then again, maybe not.

Wyatt remained cool as ice, staring at Dodger and daring him to meet his gaze while at the same time not challenging him. Out of the corner of his eye, Sung saw Willow lean forward and place a pliant hand on Dodger's tense forearm.

"Dodger, darlin', if I were attempting to ‘do’ you, there'd be no mistaking it for anything else. I told the captain, if anyone could move marked goods and get close to market value, it's Dodger, and so here we are," Willow purred, stroking Dodger's arm lightly. "We hadn't gotten to talking about price yet, and we had no intention of hiding anything. With me, sweetness, what you see is what you get."

“Same’s clean through fer the lot o’ us, Dodger. I ain’t no Chwen, and ain’t lookin’ to wind up on the wrong end of Dodger’s interests. Like I said, five hunnerd o’ them.” Leaning forward, Wyatt rested his right elbow on his knee and drew Dodger’s attention away from Willow the best he could with his presence alone. (OOC: Perception) Wyatt tried to read the man, looking for a sign that the deal had been broken, or why it had raised questions in the first place. He’d looked that cargo over himself a number of times; how could he have missed anything that could be detrimental to the deal? (OOC: Barter. But only if my perception read indicates that we won’t get shot up by playing the issue.) “These here are good, solid pieces o’ equipment, Dodger. They ain’t some spoiled turnips we’re trying to dice and pass off as raisons. They’ll fetch ya a good price on the flipside, so what’s your offer?”

Kora watched as Willow and Dash left with the Captain for their meeting with Dodger. Willow was ravishing as always and of course the menfolk were completely distracted by her well displayed assets. Kora laughed to herself as the threesome made their way down the ramp. Sam, as clumsy as a puppy at feeding time slowed his pace to be sure he was at the most advantageous position to watch Miss Willow’s seductive sway and she, well aware of the interest, reveled in the attention as she took Wyatt's offerd forearm. Kora watched the three disappear into the crowd and then retreated into the ship...it was oddly quiet except for the sound of Trish piddling about in the galley and for a moment she considered taking a short nap but decided against it since there was work to be done setting up the engines.

As for Asher. He was no doubt enjoying the company of his well endowed lady friend by now. He was a good kid, a hard, eager worker, and she was glad the Captain had given him the go ahead for some relaxin' time. Kora smiled at the thought. “Wonder if he’s ever been with a woman before” she pondered, remembering how awkward the first time had been for her. She was 16 and it was with a boy she met in her King Fu class two years earlier. They had a lot in common and became close friends. The day she turned sixteen he bought her Roses and confessed he loved her. No one had ever said they loved her before…not even her father so in the heat of the moment they made love. She was scared and very nervous but he was gentle and said all the right things. Afterward, he held her for a long time. She would always remember his scent and the warmth of his embrace. She felt safe there wrapped up in his strong arms. It would turn out to be the best memory of her life.

She sighed and allowed herself to linger in the memory for a moment longer before heading off to check the engine setup. It was there among lifeless machinery that she truly felt she belonged. No need to talk, just do the job. The only expectations were the ones you brought with you. That’s how she liked it, simple, straightforward, uncomplicated. “Someday Kora” she mused to herself, “maybe you’ll find a man with those qualities" laughing at the thought and patting a bulkhead as she passed underneath she finished with "till then you’ll be my Knight In Shiny Armor old friend”