The Repossession Mambo: Wedding Crashers

[Grace Halladay]

Grace made her way down through the ship taking a turn at the bottom with a trajectory towards her room.  Even though her seldom-seen temper had simmered some, her heart was palpitating as the repercussions of hers and their actions started to really hit home.  The people that they left behind, not just Emit or the Captain but the strangers too.  Her presence might have been enough to save a life or several maybe just to hold someone as they slipped away.  She recalled her brief time in the military as soldiers came to triage, some screaming, some destitute and some had lost all lucidity.

"Grace, dear. Why don't you come meet this lovely new guest of ours? Have a drink, relax, I'm sure your nerves are quite shot, and some companionship would be absolutely medical,"

Her morbid reminiscing was interrupted by the usually cinnamon-sweet tone of Charity's voice, now however she found it grating to hear.  Maybe it wasn't the most important thing right now but she still had unresolved resentment that the elegant miss Vornbach had been involved in.  Maybe she was just being childish over something that didn't really matter but she remembered the sight of her father sitting face in palms in the dark at the table and how her own traumatic night would not be fixed by the man who had always saved the day in the past.

Again she was drifting into the past and Charity was still talking.  Despite looking her dead in the face she really hadn't heard a word she had said.  Something about friends which caused another eye roll before she thankfully took her leave.  Grace then looked to Octavia who seemed to have more awareness of voices which was a good sign but Grace really didn't have any words to say anyway and gave her a half-hearted half-smile before cutting through the galley and into the infirmary, diverting from her original path.

She began serial-organizing to occupy her hands while her mind went blank.  During her count she noticed a few counts short, not by a lot so maybe she had counted wrong before.  Mostly feminine supplies anyway, other than that it was just the pills she'd prescribed Octavia.  After some time she heard some voices outside, seemed everyone was gathering and that might mean some answers.  She certainly felt entitled to those even if she had just potentially made herself a social pariah and so she slipped out, arms folded and leaned against the doorway.  Her calmness rapidly taking over now as she awaited and watched the rest of the crew calm their nerves in a different way.

[Amorru Reyes]

"After you," Sean offered while stepping clear of the now unlocked entry to the Xaviers' domicile. With a woman taking residence in the apartment Amorru half expected to smell an aroma at least as flowery as his own lodgings, but when he saw the crooked capture of the Captain and his Missus on the wall he reminded himself of the decidedly unflowery disposition of the woman in question. Instead, a smell of gun oil and sandalwood crept into his nostrils like the most unwelcome tendrils of some invading parasite. The pilot crossed his arms with a harumph. "How quaint. Very... Captainly." Amorru patted himself down, spurned on by an instinct he couldn't quite explain. But somehow, the feeling that something important suddenly went missing stuck with him. Squinting, Amorru pointed a bejeweled finger in the air as if to "shush" whatever may be Sean's reply. "If I were the Captain's private thoughts, where would I be?" The finger come to rest across his pursed lips, then pointed toward the lockbox at the foot of the bed. "Hm... No." Next the pilot pointed toward the gunsafe, upon which set a modified Winchester rifle. "That's not it..." Amorru pointed at the bed only briefly - "Gross" - before stumbling into the crafted oak desk bolted to the floor. "Oh! Perfect."

Amorru's hands searched the desk in haste, tossing away a short pile of transport manifests and laying waste to a tin of trinkets of likely nostalgic value to their owner. Unfortunately, the search yielded nothing pertaining to Bellerophon and more than he felt comfortable with relating to Xavier's time spent fighting for the Independents. While it's true Persephone fully supported the effort against a singular Alliance government and served as the capital of the Independent Faction, by the time the bombardments rendered Shadow uninhabitable the Council of Lords settled to live in accordance to an appointed ("Lord") Governor in order to maintain an illusion of autonomy and hardly a stitch of brown remained to be found in even the poorest hovels of Eavesdown. To see one's allegiance to a lost cause displayed so prominently drummed up a fair amount of suspicion in Amorru's mind. "Pointless..." Wushu's pilot muttered, but for himself or for the Independents still fighting the good fight in their hearts and minds he didn't say. Finally resorting to the desk's drawers and finding them locked, Amorru turned to Sean. "Take it you don't mind showing me up here as well?"

As Sean went to work on the locks, Amorru stared sourly at a regimental battle standard and wondered who thought black looked so great on seafoam and yellow anyway. "You couldn't get me to wear that for all the beans in all the worlds. How about you, Sean? What are you all about anyhow? Or did Mrs. Finnegan's favorite boy always dream of being a Tong lapdog?" Amorru listened to Sean's response with little visible interest, only breaking away from scraping a bit of dirt from under his finger nail once the desk drawer popped open. "Well. There it is." Amorru nearly shoved Sean out of the way as he came back around the desk and resumed shuffling through Xavier's private matters. "Anyway, we ought to talk about your... situation... more later. Maybe... maybe we can help each other out of this fine pile of gǒu shǐ our dear departed Captain landed us in. Let's see... Four invitations - nice cardstock, god awful penmanship - and... What is this? Shorthand? Bellerophon... Shindig... Newhall... Passenger... One way... Extra invitation... Ariel... Organ repossession?" Amorru's eyes went wide and he held the note before him as if reading it over again. "Tā - mā - de - wǒ... Looks like Grace is gonna have to stay with us until Ariel at least. Come on. Let's get to the galley. This place is giving me the creeps." Looking at the room once more, Amorru's glare softened from critical to contemplative. "It needs a makeover."

Amorru and Sean exited the room and made their back down the stairs. Turning the corner back towards the general crew and guest quarters, the pair stopped in their tracks as they found Akhsar King lurking about with a bemused look upon his face. The cocksure pilot adjusted his collar and attempted to summon a few extra inches in his spine as he leered in toward Charity's newest accessory. "Well, well. Tell me somethin' guv: is there anything you do more'n showin' up when you're least wanted? I mean it's a talent, sure. But you're gonna have to do a might more than that if you aim to earn your passage here. Or are you just content to remain by the Duschess's side until she gets bored with you?" Amorru steepled his hands under his chin momentarily, offering time for the newest addition to respond before raising a finger to interrupt. "Oh, you know what? I'm sure this is going to be very interesting, but I do hate to be late to a shindig. What say we pick this up a little later? I'd really, really like for us to get on a little better and discuss your, ah, position on board."

Amorru tried his hardest to maintain his swagger, taking a couple glances over his shoulder as he walked ahead of King. If the newcomer truly proved to be the latest in Bodwyn's long line of attempts at retrieval, the elder son of House Duschane felt the galley safer than the bowels of the ship. Truth be told, he wasn't sure he could rely on Sean's assistance if worse came to worse at any rate. Finally reaching the galley, heels of his boots clicking all the way, Amorru looked confused as he found the formerly nameless redhead woman sitting at the table alone. "Huh. Excuse me..." Amorru held the note up so he could read it. "Octavia. But ah... Why are you sitting here alone?"

[Sionnach]

 Finally resorting to the desk's drawers and finding them locked, Amorru turned to Sean. "Take it you don't mind showing me up here as well?"

Sean had been visually shaking down the stateroom for important hiding places and, or course, valuables...namely places where cash and things of cash value might be, he'd naturally be visiting the room later for such things when Amorru spoke up.

"You couldn't get me to wear that for all the beans in all the worlds. How about you, Sean? What are you all about anyhow? Or did Mrs. Finnegan's favorite boy always dream of being a Tong lapdog?"

Sean has been working up to this moment, he didn't trust Reyes much...if at all, but things were coming to a head and it looked like Amorru was pretty much in charge of things now. They'd be doing the job before long and if he...and by way of conspiracy...the rest of the crew as well, were to get out from under the Moda Tong he was going to have to throw in his lot with them sooner rather than later.

"It's like this Amorru." he began in an uncharacteristically sober, non sarcastic tone, "I've been involved with the gorram Moda for years an' not known it. It's only been in the last seven months I've been actively under their thumb.  Me old boss sold me out, dodged me on a job that was for the ta ma da Tong and left me swingin'. Ownin' them a debt, sure.  My latest 'payment' was ridin' herd on the lot of you an', frankly, ye not only seem a decent lot...most o' ye...but savvy an' smart as well.  I've got half a notion' of how te get us all out from under their boot heel, an' me jest havin' this conversation could get me killed in some disturbingly unkind ways,"
Turning back to the task at hand he pulled a simple on piece pick and knelt down before the desk. It was an extremely simple mechanical lock and it opened as if on it's own to the thief's way of thinking.

"That's where I'm at...since ye asked,"
.

"Anyway, we ought to talk about your... situation... more later. Maybe...maybe eh? Oh aye that was gorram encouraging maybe we can help each other out of this fine pile of gǒu shǐ our dear departed Captain landed us in. Let's see... Four invitations - nice cardstock, god awful penmanship - and... What is this? Shorthand? Bellerophon... Shindig... Newhall... Passenger... One way... Extra invitation... Ariel... Organ repossession?" Seans's own business aside this job got better an' better all the time, bloody organ repossession. Gut yankin' '''didn't get much lower.

As they made their way back from the (former...had hated thinking about the man that way) Captain's quarters they ran into the debutante's "bodyguard" who he had failed to notice previously before.  This man just went up a notch or two on Sean's danger index. "Well, well. Tell me somethin' guv: is there anything you do more'n showin' up when you're least wanted? I mean it's a talent, sure. But you're gonna have to do a might more than that if you aim to earn your passage here. Or are you just content to remain by the Duschess's side until she gets bored with you?" Amorru steepled his hands under his chin momentarily, offering time for the newest addition to respond before raising a finger to interrupt. "Oh, you know what? I'm sure this is going to be very interesting, but I do hate to be late to a shindig. What say we pick this up a little later? I'd really, really like for us to get on a little better and discuss your, ah, position on board."

"Aye laddie buck!" Sean added as he experimentally threw an arm around King's shoulders and offered him a drink from the "good" flask and helped steer him toward the meeting in the galley and let just the slightest hint of wobble grace his knees. Not enough to appear hammy and not too little to undersell, and did no insult anyone's intelligence by slurring his words. Just enough to convey that he was a functional alcoholic. "Don't mind the fop! I'm sure miss bobbles an' bows is keen hǎo de hé zhèngquè de taken with you." he smiled disarmingly in a winning way. "Professionally speaking of course."

"Huh. Excuse me..." Amorru held the note up so he could read it. "Octavia. But ah... Why are you sitting here alone?"

Sean let go of King, if indeed the man had not made him let go before hand, and took up a seat at the table opposite Octavia and gave her a wide friendly smile as he slipped the data pad out of his pocket and typed HOW's THE WHISKEY? to her, and poured up a belt for the two of them from the bottle on the table.

"Afraid Miss Octavia here can't hear your razor like wit Amorru me lad," as he downed a safe amount of the fine tasting whiskey.  "Bit of a problem with the ruckus back on planet. Hopefully the fine doctor can sort it out."

[Artemis Graham]

Shiny Artemis thought to herself in response to Amorru's announcement. She didn't bother to respond verbally though. It went without saying. Instead of heading immediately to the galley, Artemis took a moment to check everything was still running smoothly with the engines. Wushu had been pushed hard and although Art was confident the ship could take it, she wasn't taking any chances. It didn't pay to break down immediately after fleeing the scene of a terrorist event. Although she was very good, lucky she was not. But, despite the old adage, Art still preferred to be the former. It required a lot more work, though.

Once she was certain the ship would run without her, Artemis dusted herself off and made her way up to the join the others. She came across Grace first, watching the rest of the crew from the doorway. Art's stomach gave a strange jolt as she approached. Wasn't that usually her spot? The ship could only have so many distance outsiders. Resisting the urge to lean next to her, Art slid past offering a small nod to the medic as she moved. Too late she remembered the blood from earlier and what was probably a minor but obvious head wound. She should have looked in a mirror before joining the others but that wasn't really Art's style.

Making her way deeper into the Mess, Art detoured past the kitchen equipment and checked herself in a shiny surface. As suspected it was just a scratch over her right eyebrow. It was caked over in blood but didn't look nasty enough to warrant a trip to the doctor, or a return trip downstairs to tidy herself up. Instead she found an unchipped glass and brought it with her to the table.

Taking a seat, Art was painfully aware that she barely recognised any of the faces at the table. Should have stayed a wallflower with Grace she thought idly. Making friends wasn't really her strong suit. Instead of going for small talk she decided to say exactly what she was thinking. "Is this for sharing?" She gave the whiskey bottle a gentle tap. Whiskey wasn't really her thing but it was better than nothing. And drinking gave her something to do instead of talking. Of course she had champagne in her room still but she wasn't bringing that out anytime soon. Not because she wanted it for herself but with a new crew to hide her past from she wasn't about to advertise her taste for the finer things.

[Sionnach]

 "Is this for sharing?"  asked the, Sean had to admit, rather fetching young woman who he had only seen once but remembered to be the ship's mechanic.  Not that he couldn't tell that by her clothing and bit of smudge of grease on the edge of her jaw.  Looked like she'd cut herself above the eye a bit too.

It pained him more than a little to empty the bottle of, no joke hard to find, expensive spirit from a recipe from Earth-That-Was but it was definitely time to ingratiate himself with these people.  The price to pay was the price to pay.

"That it is ye fine fair lass," he pretended to flirt as he poured her a healthy bit of Redbreast bourbon,  "and a fine day it is for sharin'"

"Everyone gather round and have ye a belt. This is Redbreast whiskey good gentles, an' it'll cure what ails ye.  Straight from what was once the planet Earth...by way of recipe that is! Get ye a bit and let it relax ye some before ol' Amorru brings us down with some wonderful new information, like,"

[Akhsar King]

King didnt have to wait long before Amorru and Sean made their way back down the stairs. The pilot adjusted his collar while standing as straight as possible and giving King a leer.

"Well, well. Tell me somethin' guv: is there anything you do more'n showin' up when you're least wanted? I mean it's a talent, sure. But you're gonna have to do a might more than that if you aim to earn your passage here. Or are you just content to remain by the Duschess's side until she gets bored with you?" The man steepled his hands under his chin.

King raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to reply. "Well actually-" He stopped as Amorru raised a finger to interrupt. "Oh, you know what? I'm sure this is going to be very interesting, but I do hate to be late to a shindig. What say we pick this up a little later? I'd really, really like for us to get on a little better and discuss your, ah, position on board." And with that, the man swaggered off towards the galley. King couldn't help but chuckle.

"Aye laddie buck!" Sean said throwing an arm around King's shoulders. Again Kings eyebrow arched. Sean offered him a sip from a flask. "At least buy me dinner before you try to get me drunk." He said with a grin, declining the sip. Sean attempted to steer King towards the galley, which King allowed. He caught Amorru looking back at him a couple times. Interesting, could just be the fact I'm new, but I think I make him jumpy.

Sean displayed the slightest hint of a wobble in his walk. Whether feigned or real, King had no trouble believing that the man drank a bit more than your average person.

"Don't mind the fop! I'm sure miss bobbles an' bows is keen hǎo de hé zhèngquè de taken with you." Sean said with a disarming smile. King wasn't very disarmed, but he didn't let it show. "Professionally speaking of course."

"Oh, of course."

They entered the galley and Sean let his arm drop from around Kings shoulders. King glanced around the room and noticed Charity's absence. He took a step to the left, leaned against a counter near the door, and waited for the discussion that was about to take begin.

[Octavia Wynn]

Charity had no quicker sat down with Octavia, mumbling something that Octavia couldn't catch, than she hopped right up again dragging the good doctor over to their table.

Being slightly closer to Octavia now, her voice could be heard it's higher pitch filtering through slightly clearer than Amorru's lower tone had. "Now I do hate to be so absolutely impolite, but there is one little thing I must attend to, if you sweethearts don't mind."

Grace had gone too, with a small smile, before the redhead could gather her wits about her and make any response. This was more than preferable to her anyway. No need to sift through the noise in her brain and come up with something interesting or engaging to say.

She was sitting with her back to the wall, watching the room at large and drinking. Her hearing, though slightly better, still wasn't that great and she loathed the idea of someone coming up behind her while she was unaware. People were coming in in ones and twos filling the space and making individual sounds harder to pinpoint. She'd finished her two fingers of whiskey and was getting antsy from being idle. She hadn't been to the shooting range in two days and the stress from the explosion and subsequent injury had her nerves on end. She longed for the familiar ache in her shoulders and quietness in her mind. She'd settle for the burn of the alcohol for now.

She was reaching for the bottle again, only feeling slightly guilty about drinking so much of something that wasn't hers when Amorru and Sean arrived at her table in rapid succession.

"Huh. Excuse me... Octavia. But ah... Why are you sitting here alone?" His voice sounded gummy and flat and farther away than he actually was. It was a strain to catch all of his words - what few there were.
And before she could come up with some witty response to cover the truth of alone being her preference at the moment, Sean swooped in like a savior with data pad asking how the whiskey was, while pouring her another and explaining her situation. A least, her situation as it had been to his last knowledge.

She had a moment of indecision.
Should I correct him?
Do I want to feign complete hearing loss a while longer? Would it gain me anything?
In the end Octavia decided it would just be annoying to fuss about with all the typing so she heaved a great sigh through her nose and addressed Sean first.

"It is wonderful, thank you. I'm afraid I've been a bit greedy with it. I'll have you a new bottle ordered, posthaste. As to my injury, I'm happy to report that I've regained the high and loud end of my hearing range for now. So as long as you speak up, I should be OK. On that thought... this will also help..."

She removed one of the pills from her pocket, raised it in the direction of Grace in a toast and downed it with another sip on whiskey. She hoped she'd taken it with enough lead time to kick in for the arrival of Xavier, which is what she assumed they were all gathered for.

Finally, she turned to Amorru. She hadn't come up with anything clever, so she ignored his question and said "You're Amorru. You must be the reason I fell over myself earlier. A rocky start for a paying customer. Let's hope you handle her better in the black than you did planet side."

[Amorru Reyes]

Amorru watched as Grace stepped into the galley as if on cue. Giving her his back, he turned to the cabinet behind him and opened it in search of something. "Ah. There we are." Amorru pulled a coffee tin out of the cabinet and set it down on the counter top. Peeling back the lid, he shifted the ground beans around in their container under a scrutinous eye. Angling the container so it would spill the contents, Amorru patted the bottom of the tin so the dusty collection of what appeared and tasted like pencil shavings fell across the counter. With a satisfactory amount of resources properly wasted, the ship's presumed authority figure pulled a small bottle of rum unreasonably hidden within the ashy tin and opened the top. Allowing the smell of the alcohol to waft into his nose and feeling a bit of a burn in his nostrils, Ammoru found it no small wonder the Xaviers aimed to turn the crew away from the stuff inside the tin by brewing up a fresh pot of dirt water every morning. Releasing a satisfied "Aaah..." as the burn filled his chest, Amorru turned back to look at those gathered around the galley.

Noting Art's tap upon the whiskey, Amorru slid the run her way. "Aged. Spiced. Might tickle your fancy." Amorru's eyes then fell to Octavia as she addressed him. "You're Amorru. You must be the reason I fell over myself earlier. A rocky start for a paying customer. Let's hope you handle her better in the black than you did planet side." Amorru's smirk spread into a grin, though his eyes glowered in a way that conveyed his dread of something more serious than drinks on his mind. "I'm not sure who you've paid. Or when. Or for what exactly. But I figure I handle her just fine, wherever she is." The platinum tooth in Amorru's mouth glinted beneath an easy wink. "And whoever she is."

Amorru's eyes slit as they shot over King's direction, but as the familiar swish-swish-swish of Charity's skirts echoed toward the galley's threshold his attention diverted to the Duschess's grand entrance. "Where've you been? Oh, I can guess. Figure it must take quite some effort to get out from under all those skirts when nature calls. Nevermind, I don't wanna know. Or do I? No. I don't." Amorru cocked an eyebrow at the debutante before his eyes darted between her and her hired man again. The pilot knew not what conspiracy existed between them, but he grew increasingly wary of... something.

Discussion of the manner of drink available at the table arose. Amorru reached out, snagging the rum from where it sat in front of whoever pulled from it last, took another swallow, and waited patiently for Sean to deliver the bad news. "Everyone gather round and have ye a belt. This is Redbreast whiskey good gentles, an' it'll cure what ails ye.  Straight from what was once the planet Earth...by way of recipe that is! Get ye a bit and let it relax ye some before ol' Amorru brings us down with some wonderful new information, like," the Irishman announced. Amorru glared at him as he imagined the man being sucked through the narrowest crack in the air lock. "Thank you so much."

Amorru cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably and appearing unsure of himself before most of the ship's crew and their passenger for the first time. "Well, ah... Right. So, Sean's got the right of it. I suppose. I think. See, while we're all happy to have Miss Rin with us on this journey, what happened back there with the..." Amorru motioned with his hands to represent explosions as he spoke, "KAPOOM! PCHOW! Uh. Back there. Which, I'm sure you know, shoulda been a standard stop and stock. Fuel, food, etc. Problem is, under the state of emergency, regular service was interrupted and well... Uh. We're running a little low on both. I'm sure we can make it. Ain't gonna be easy, but with proper rations... Right. So. More bad news. Of course we know we've lost a good amount of the crew we set out with, including our dear Cap'n Xavier. I'll..." Amorru hesitated as he glanced up at Grace, no doubt feeling her judgment burning clear through his scalp. "I'll be honest. I didn't know the guy from Adam 'n' I ain't seen a dime, but doesn't mean I wasn't willin' to do a proper job and get us all where we goin in one piece. And I still aim to do that. But when it came down to the choice between loyalty to my boss and loyalty to my own skin in the face of losin' it inch by inch to some Tong enforcer I can't honestly believe that I'm alone in feelin' we made the right choice boosting the rut outta that spaceport and breakin' atmo while we had the chance."

Amorru scratched the back of his head. "Gets a little worse, if ya can believe it. Original flight plan didn't call for spendin' the better part of the day docked. Factor in the extra hour or two flying in the wrong direction throwin' peacekeepers off the trail and well... We got a little over four days to make a six day trip. Good news: I got no doubt I can make it. Not so good: I don't know this ship the way the Cap'n did, and I don't know if she can make it. So Artemis, do us a favor. Open 'er up, and gimme everything she's got. We owe to our ah... Passenger here to make sure we get her to that shindig on time. So. I guess that's it. Any questions?"

[Charity]

"Where've you been?" Amorru asked her and the woman reached down to smooth out the wrinkles in the dress she felt she'd been wearing for too long today, some dust from the debris that'd rained down upon them still floating off the dark fabric. Her lips parted to tell him something about having been freshening up in her room when he interrupted, her mouth shutting and a brow quirking in good natured annoyance. She smiled at Grace, reaching a hand out to almost set it upon the other woman's arm, not liking it when her friend relegated herself to lurking. She was a part of the family after all.

"Oh, I can guess. Figure it must take quite some effort to get out from under all those skirts when nature calls," he remarked crudely, and Charity frowned at him like a mother might look in disappointment upon an unruly child, her hand dropping away from the doctor. She wrapped her elegant fingers around  the curve of her waist and shook her head a little, chocolate waves slipping over her shoulder and covering a bit of her décolletage. Her frown only deepened when the man looked suspiciously between her and King and Charity threw her hands up a little in defeat, sighing as she moved to walk past the pilot toward where her 'hired help' was standing out of the way. She didn't know what she had to do for him to stop suspecting her of whatever it was he thought she was up to, although his suspicion only made her suspicions all the more valid. Remembering what had been in his luggage, the debutante rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the man and stood next to King, offering him a soft smile of greeting.

Having been ignoring the first half of Sean and Amy's speech, her body flinched in surprise at the sudden onomatopoeias. Her gaze finally slid around the room, noting those present and those who'd been left behind with a practiced nonchalance. She hadn't known them long enough to become too attached, and Abigail had ruined her dress. Charity shrugged to herself a little.

During Amorru's explanation of things, she fiddled first with her locket, then pulled the fan out of her pocket and snapped it open with a flick of her wrist, fanning herself idly. The minutia of the plan didn't bother her, and she wasn't all that interested in the problems they were facing. If what Amy had done saved them from some vile fate, she wasn't sure she blamed him. And getting to the wedding or not mattered little to the woman, other than the fact that she wanted to dress up the doctor in something fancy and befitting a woman of such poise and...well...grace. With that thought, Charity shot a gentle, searching smile in the doctor's direction, hoping it would be returned.

"Any questions?" the pilot asked. Charity closed the fan against her palm then held it up. "Yes, I have one...well, maybe two. Where did the formal clothing end up?" she asked, staring pointedly at Sean, who she'd handed them to in the cargo bay. "And who will be fixing supper?"

[Octavia Wynn]

"I'm not sure who you've paid. Or when. Or for what exactly. But I figure I handle her just fine, wherever she is."   "And whoever she is."

Why had he winked? Was he flirting? Was that just the way he was?
She couldn't figure it out with the single action, and wasn't sure if she wanted to or not.
"I'm sure your captain has the records. You just concern yourself getting us there in one piece."

"...what happened back there with the..." Amorru motioned with his hands to represent explosions as he spoke, "KAPOOM! PCHOW! Uh. Back there.

Octavia flinched heavily at each exclaimation of his reenactment of the explosion. The images clicked on for her like a projector. She didn't want to watch this particular movie. As subtlety as she could, she slipped an arrow from her quiver to flip it between her fingers. Her other hand brought her glass to her lips and drained it for the third time. It's warmth had snaked beyond her chest and stomach and was settling in her armpits, neck and face. She felt nearly too warm and a dull buzz was dispersing through her head.

"More bad news. Of course we know we've lost a good amount of the crew we set out with, including our dear Cap'n Xavier."

Well so much for his records! Well, now, should I feel badly about how I've spoke to Amorru? I don't know. Maybe it won't come up again.

"We owe to our ah... Passenger here to make sure we get her to that shindig on time. So. I guess that's it. Any questions?"

He'd barely gotten the question out of his mouth when Octavia blurted out "So who's in charge here? And what presicely is the plan if the ship can't make it?

Then, much more politely, Charity raised her little fan and asked about clothes & food.

[Grace Halladay]

Grace's eyes met Amorru's briefly only to soon be faced with his back.  She couldn't really blame him after the way the last interaction between the two went due to her own volition but now she felt some remorse for her actions even as the reasons were fresh in her mind but the anger beginning to dull.

Even as she fell into her thoughts her eyes watched as Amorru carelessly dumped the contents of the tin on the counter and retrieved a small bottle from which he first stole a lingering sniff before downing the substance satisfyingly with a vocal exclamation of that fact.  Her eyes followed the bottle as it glided gracefully from Amy's hand to Art's not a drop spilling and a reminder that most things the pretty fly boy did came out smooth even when she hoped it wouldn't.  Her focus shifted once again as Octavia spoke up and addressed Amy not really picking up on the words her attention zeroed in on her face, particularly her topaz-hued eyes which rested in contrast against her freckled features beneath.  Catching herself staring she pushed off from the wall and adjusted her position, eyes moving to the floor while she arched her back in a brief stretch before leaning back against the wall.

She almost didn't notice when Charity approached and moved to place a hand on her shoulder, Grace felt her bicep, tricep and any other cep tense at the proposition of the debutantes hand pressing against her appendage, anticipating a feeling somewhat like a gently wafting curtain in her grip.  However it was not to be as it was pulled suddenly away and rested appropriately on the crest of her midriff exuding the same disgust as its owner at the typical repugnance of Reyes' words.  Grace re-enforced the sentiment with a slight drop of her shoulders which betrayed her usual stiff posture and tilting her head down in effort to convey really? without uttering the phrase.

Octavia again spoke up clearly having some issues again with her hearing which was to be expected considering she only had enough medication for one dose a day for the next two weeks and it always was just a temporary solution to a more serious problem.  With two questions now levied at the room Grace just waited and analyzed the faces of both Sean and Amorru for a response, one answer for which she didn't care for and the other she expected to react incredulously to.  She had about six of her own in the chamber but they could wait until the poignant question of leadership was posed.

[Sionnach]

The ship's pilot and, as near as Sean could suss out, the likely new Captain continued his information download,

"Gets a little worse, if ya can believe it. Original flight plan didn't call for spendin' the better part of the day docked. Factor in the extra hour or two flying in the wrong direction throwin' peacekeepers off the trail and well... We got a little over four days to make a six day trip. Good news: I got no doubt I can make it. Not so good: I don't know this ship the way the Cap'n did, and I don't know if she can make it. So Artemis, do us a favor. Open 'er up, and gimme everything she's got. We owe to our ah... Passenger here to make sure we get her to that shindig on time. So. I guess that's it. Any questions?"

Sean kept his face neutral, and the appropriate about of slack and glassy eyes for someone who supposedly drank too much.  He'd only had two small shots of the Redbreast. Everything else he'd drunk had been from his "Fool's flask" which had only his mock whiskey. He'd only brought out the actual alcohol to smooth things out with the crew...seeing how they might talk with a little bit of the old in them wouldn't hurt either, though not that many had drunk any. Still, Amorru and the mechanic had shared some rum so he'd see what there was to see.  He kept the mask on so he wouldn't show his surprise and Amorru not saying anything about the information he and the pilot had found out about the job in the old Captain's stateroom.  He wasn't sure he wanted to be part of keeping things from the crew but  now was not the time to get into it.

"Any questions?" the pilot finished up.

The debutante held up her fan and asked. "Yes, I have one...well, maybe two. Where did the formal clothing end up?"[/color] she asked, staring pointedly at him,  "And who will be fixing supper?"

Sean did not push his chair back, nor stand with a flourish and sweep his hands out and loudly proclaim he would cook and present himself as the fool he always tried to make people believe he was.  No, these people needed to start believing he was, if not as competent as he actually was, but at least reliable and level headed.  Instead he stood up at a "reasonable" rate, letting the "drunk" slowly dissolve from his face, and answered both questions sensibly.

"The clothes ye handed me are either hung or stacked on or near the jump seats on the starboard side of the cargo hold where ye gave 'em te me," it was more difficult then he thought not to play the stereotype of the drunken Irish fool he was so used to pretending to be in front of people. Annoying.

"As for supper...I...I'm a fair cook and I can fix somethin' up if ye all would like," I am a fine cook, he thought, I just don't go cooking for just anybody.  Oh Sean me boy, how dire your straits have become.

[Artemis Graham]

The glass of whiskey had been poured and brought halfway to her lips when Amorru began his rundown. Artemis listened to the announcement of their woes with a stony expression. Good. Right. Looks like the lives of a bunch of strangers and a few almost friends are in my hands. Six day journey into a four journey. Piece of cake. And then, because she couldn't help being snarky even in her own head, she added at least I'm not expected to cook.

The whiskey glass had returned to the table during Reyes' speech and it remained untouched. If she was going to be working at her best she was going to need a clear head. She almost considered having Grace check her out properly to make sure her noggin was working properly after the explosion. But she decided she would risk it. Despite the fact Grace was one of the few people she'd met on her first night aboard Wushu and despite the fact the pair had a lot of similarities, she got the impression that the doctor wasn't her greatest fan. And she didn't want to owe any more favours since the champagne incident.

It seemed that her respite time was over and it was back to the engine room for her. But before she could move the questions started. The most significant being  'who's in charge here?' and 'what will we do if the ship can't make it?' And because she had experienced one hell of a day and perhaps because there was a trace of a concussion knocking out her filter, Art spoke her next works without really thinking. "By the sounds of it you're looking at the person in charge," she said, gesturing to Reyes. "And no need to ponder what will happen if they ship doesn't make it. She will. I'll make sure of it. The lines had been delivered so deadpan it was impossible to know if she was being genuine or sarcastic. Art liked it that way.

"If there's nothing else, I should probably get moving...Captain" she said, addressing Reyes. Once again it was hard to tell if she was being mocking or respectful. She'd let Amorru decide.

[Akhsar King]

King remained where he was while the others talked, his eyes flicking around the room, watching faces and reactions. About half way through Amorru's speech Charity came over to stand by him. She gave King a soft smile. He returned it and gave her a small nod, before shifting his attention back to the room at large. "... So. I guess that's it. Any questions?" Amorru finished.

King head tilted to the side slightly. Was that it? Low on supplies, had to leave some crew behind, 6 day trip was now a 4 day trip. None of that information seemed like it would have been locked up in the Captains quarters. Perhaps it was an item Amorru and Sean had been after? Or they were just not sharing whatever it was that they had discovered?

Octavia was the first to speak up, blurting out her words almost as soon as Amorru finished. "So who's in charge here? And what precisely is the plan if the ship can't make it? A good question, and King could guess the answer already. Though he wondered how the crew would react to Amorru proclaiming himself in charge. It turned out he didnt have to as Artemis, the mechanic, spoke up. "By the sounds of it you're looking at the person in charge," she said, gesturing to Amorru. "And no need to ponder what will happen if the ship doesn't make it. She will. I'll make sure of it. If there's nothing else, I should probably get moving...Captain. She said in a perfect deadpan.

Amorru being captain would undoubtedly cause problems for King. If only for the fact that Amy was clearly mistrustful and suspicious of King. He might try to have King thrown off the ship. That thought made his amiable smile shift more towards a grin. Would be fun to see him try.

Charity spoke up next, closing her fan pointedly on her palm. "Yes, I have one...well, maybe two. Where did the formal clothing end up? And who will be fixing supper?" The first part directed at Sean, and the second to the room. Sean stood up and replied to both. King watched as the "drunk" persona faded away some. "The clothes ye handed me are either hung or stacked on or near the jump seats on the starboard side of the cargo hold where ye gave 'em te me... As for supper...I...I'm a fair cook and I can fix somethin' up if ye all would like,"

The only other person yet to speak was Grace. So far all she had done was stare at Amorru, stare at Octavia, and stretch. He was interested in what she might ask.

As for himself, King had no questions worth voicing yet, so he remained quiet. He could always ask them why they'd broken into the Captains quarters, but this probably wasn't the moment to do so. He would mention it to Charity though, the next time they were alone.

[Amorru Reyes]

"So who's in charge here? And what presicely is the plan if the ship can't make it?" Octavia asked, forcing Amorru to admit silently that no back up plan existed. Thankfully, the ship's mechanic stepped in to cover his pigu yet again. "By the sounds of it you're looking at the person in charge," Artemis motioned Amorru's direction. "And no need to ponder what will happen if they ship doesn't make it. She will. I'll make sure of it." Her words rang in a flat, somewhat ambiguous tone. "No doubt." Amorru accented his encouragement by raising the bottle of rum that found its way back into his hand.

"If there's nothing else, I should probably get moving...Captain" she said, excusing herself from the table. Amorru's finger rose in the air as if to correct her, but then came to rest on his chin as he gave Art's words his deepest consideration. Finally, a sheepish grin spread across his face as his eyes panned around the room. "Well. How do you fancy that?" The pilot's eyebrows shot up once for emphasis. "Captain." His green eyes ceased their daydreaming, falling on King's grinning face. Amorru squinted at the man's reaction as he wondered to himself what about the concept made the stranger so happy.


"Ahem... So, if no one else has-" "Yes, I have one...well, maybe two. Where did the formal clothing end up? And who will be fixing supper?" Since Charity's initial question zeroed in on Sean primarily, she didn't seem to notice Amorru's dismissive eye rolling as she spoke up. When she turned to address the rest of the room regarding supper, Sean seemed to lose some of his stupor as he replied. Never one to overpay attention to things that annoyed him, Amorru never stopped to ask himself how Mr. Flannigan managed to metabolize alcohol so quickly. Truth told, the dandy likely lacked practical understanding of the concept in general. "The clothes ye handed me are either hung or stacked on or near the jump seats on the starboard side of the cargo hold where ye gave 'em te me... As for supper...I...I'm a fair cook and I can fix somethin' up if ye all would like,"


"Fine, fine. Sean, do the Duchess a favor and retrieve the new threads. I'm sure she has some final alterations to make. I'll worry about supper." Amorru's head cocked as he looked at Charity with a clear expression of suspicion on his face. "Really. What have you done with my jacket?" After a long moment of silence, "Captain" Reyes addressed those that remained in the Galley with a wide, flourishing sweep on his hand. "So. If that'll be all, then I'm... gonna... Fix. That. Spaghetti!" Amorru turned and threw the cabinets behind open dramatically, and searched the nearly bare pantries with a renewed sense of worry. "... We did have spaghetti, didn't we?"

[RUNE]

NINETY-FIVE HOURS LATER...

In the four days since being named Captain, in a manner of speaking, Amorru spent the vast majority of his waking hours at the helm, maintaining an unadvised rate of speed and seemingly forgetting all about his sword practice. Most of the crew and Octavia went about their lives as normally as possible as the ship rocketed along, being reminded of their dire situation only occasionally as Amorru updated them on their location via Captainly announcements. Finally, he alerted everyone to their impending entry into Bellerophon's atmosphere.

"Ladies and gentleman, this is your Captain speaking," Amorru's voice broke as he made a smug humming sound, then continued. "We are rapidly approaching our destination of Bellerophon and - Agk!" The ship lurched to one side suddenly as a loud BANG echoed from the engine room. "Um. Art?  Seems like we're losing thrust here. What, ah... What was that? As Artemis checked the engines for the source of the malfunction, she confirmed a cracked cylinder in the fuel pressurizer. "Sod it all... Strap in folks, and prepare for a bumpy landing. I'll just... Glide her in. Yeah. No problem..."

True to his word, Amorru managed to land the ship with minimal damage on the planet's vast desert. A planet of floating private estates, Bellerophon's wealthy residents needed neither local shops nor laborers as goods and services made themselves available via constant import. While this made the possibility of replacing the pressurizer cylinder fairly easy, it also brought the untimely attention of a private security force's patrol ship as they followed the trail of smoke belching from the engine's exhaust. Worse yet, the extra fuel that leaked and burned from the cracked cylinder represented the last of the available reserves. Amorru watched as the modified Arrowhead class shuttle landed on the desert sands ahead of them. Despite assuring the security crew aboard the Arrowhead of Wushu's pristine condition and refusing assistance multiple times, the pilot sighed in defeat as he watched the shuttle's board ramps lower and a handful of well-dressed and even better armed security personnel stepped out into the desert sands and began to approach the transport.

"Heads up. We're about to have some companyyyyy!" Amorru nearly sang the final syllable leaving his mouth and began the sprint from the bridge to the cargo bay below. Stopping at the intercom mounted at the threshold from the crew and passenger quarters to the cargo hold's scaffolding, Reyes paged the best assistants he could imagine in this situation. "Charity, Octavia! Meet me at the ramp, please!" Amorru strolled across the scaffold toward the engine room, straightening his hair and adjusting the collar on his uncharacteristically rumpled shirt. "Artemis? What's going on with that engine?"

Outside the ship, a security guard spoke into the long-range communicator fitted on their head. "Yeah. We've made contact with the Hotaru. Ship's called... Wushu? What kinda name is that... Put me through to Wallace. Right. Thanks. I'll wait. Mr. Wallace? This is Riser. We've got that Hotaru that dropped like a rock through Ainsworth's airspace. Affirmative. Name's Wushu. No, I don't know either. Right. The crew appears to be complying so far. Ramp's lowering, no signs of hostility. They seem prepared for boarding. How does Mr. Mercer want us to proceed?"

[Artemis Graham]

What's going on with that engine?

It took all of Art's training in delicacy and diplomacy not to start swearing. For other members of the crew it may have been an uneventful few days but for Art it had been a sleepless, chaotic, waking nightmare. Before their all to swift departure she had the ship running at almost a purr. It wasn't perfect but it was pretty impressive. By the end of the journey...well, she felt like the girl who'd stuck her finger in the damn. Every time she thought she'd fixed one problem a new one cropped up until...

"Yep, there goes the fuel pressuriser," she thought aloud. She was past the point of keeping her thoughts inward. She'd come past the point of caring about a lot of things over the past 95 hours (and she was counting). Why had she called Amorru Captain again? The only thing that kept her from revoking her blessing of his Captaincy was the fact that somehow he was still managing to fly the damn ship. Well, almost.

Which brought her back to the swearing. Their landing had been less than ideal. The state of the engine was worse. As soon as she'd picked herself up off the floor she immediately began tinkering but it was little use. The fact of the matter was they needed some assistance. Or time, at the very least. From the sounds of it they had neither. But instead of swearing she shot back a very terse "I'm working on it," to her Captain. Only instead of working on it she twisted her hair into a messy bun, wiped the bulk of the sweat and grease off her face and pulled on a blazer she kept hidden away for just such occasions. If they were being boarded she wanted to check out the arrivals and gauge if they were people that could provide assistance (usually after a bit of well timed damseling and a touch of flattery) or the kind that would require her picking up her trusty wrench again. Or (even worse) would they require her picking up her other wrench. The kind that wasn't used for engines but for clobbering people on the head.

From the shadows, Art watched the cargo bay doors, tensed and ready. Needless to say she assumed a lot of caffeine over the past four days.

[Charity]

For four days, Charity had been altering the formal outfits Sean had retrieved from where he’d so rudely and sloppily dumped them in the cargo hold. The workmanship on the dresses and suits was already top notch, and all that remained was opening up pockets, tightening the waists of one or two of the gowns, adding a couple more sparkles and ribbons and hemming skirts where they might be too long. She’d hung them all up outside the doors of their soon to be owners, along with some accessories, such as rings, necklaces, pocket squares, and shoes that all seemed to be just the right size for their intended wearers.

Grace had been given a shimmering number in blacks and emerald greens, lace and crystals adoring the entirety of the beautiful monstrosity. Charity had paired it with a pair of black heels, and emerald jewelry to match. She felt green perfectly embodied the feel of Grace’s doctorly spirit. Two suits and another dress hung up at Amy’s door, as she had no idea who was going to the wedding, but she’d banked on herself and Grace going and enjoying one another’s company. She figured a girl’s night out might alleviate some of the still present tension that seemed to linger between the two women, much to the confusion and dismay of the debutante.

Aside from sewing and styling, Charity had spent a lot of time speaking to King, getting him acclimated to the ship and exchanging small talk. It was nice to have someone on board who didn’t seem to think she was a burden or some ridiculous spectacle, even if that was how she came across.

On the day of their arrival, the woman walked down the hall toward the stairs to the bridge with a triumphant smile dancing across plumb colored lips. Her chocolate curls were pulled back into a respectably tight ponytail that cascaded down her back in gentle waves. Atop where the tie held it in place was a sensible black hat lined with silver thread embroidery. Her black dress was absolutely covered in silver applique and metalwork shaped into fleurs and coils all down the stomacher of her gown, a high sheer black collar covering the back of her beck. Large silver necklaces hung well past her chest and the bracelets jingled as she walked, heels clicking, and skirts rustling, signaling her approach to anyone with ears.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are rapidly approaching our destination of Bellerephon and – Agk!” Charity had just made it to the threshold between the hallway to their rooms and the galley when the ship lurched and she gasped in surprise, nearly dropping what she held in her arms as she moved to brace herself in the doorway. She managed to get herself into the dining area and buckle into a chair, laying the bundle of fabric over her lap as she waited for them to land, a sigh lifting and lowering her shoulders.

When they’d finally landed, her hands lifted to ensure her hat was still on properly and her hair was smooth before she unbuckled and stood tentatively, making sure she wasn’t too dizzy to stay upright. She heard someone’s feet thundering against the stairs to the bridge and moved to peek out of the galley, watching Reyes stop at the intercom a little further away from her. She smiled, watching him summon her, unaware that she stood not too far behind him before he continued deeper into the ship toward the cargo bay. Giggling softly to herself, Charity lifted a hand to mock salute the ‘Captain’ before following after him, allowing him enough of a head start to avoid feeling awful silly about calling to her over the ship’s intercom system and hoping King had heard the message and would join them.

Charity moved down into the cargo hold proper and stood with her hands demurely clasped in front of her gilded lap as she watched the ramp lower and waited for the Captain and the Guest to arrive with her. Once Amorru finished with whatever he was doing and had joined her, she held out the fabric bundle to him and smiled, "Your coat," she explained simply, offering no more than that. The garment had been massively altered from a coat to a side cape, its ribbons and frills re-purposed into ribbon embroidery and trim, additional gilded sparkles and metal floss embroidery added from her own personal stash. It had been given several inner pockets, the ones from the original article of clothing remade or simply put back into the lining to provide him the same if not more access to secret pouches and hidden areas. A braided gold rope had been attached to it to serve as the closure, the whole thing meant to rest over one shoulder.

[JonathanMercer]

"Peacocks," spat Jonathan Mercer, stuffing the word full of all the incredulous derision and frustration it deserved.  Of course, the happy couple had brought in peacocks for the wedding, because peacocks were all the rage this season and there was no cost too high for being the pinnacle of fashion, whether in terms of dollar amounts or time spent in dealing with the inconveniences and outright disasters that came with decorations that had both limbs and minds of their own.

Jonathan held a door open while two of his men carried one of the gorgeous birds out to the south lawn where it belonged.  In the room behind him, a pair of maids were furiously tidying up the overturned bric-a-brac that served as proof of the bird's true temperament – it was, by all evidence, an embodiment of Coyote, or Loki.  It was one more thing to add to a hectic morning.  There were three hours before the wedding and the whole estate was in an uproar as decorations went up and tables were laid out.  The constant flow in and out of people involved in setting up the forthcoming spectacle would ordinarily have given the security expert a headache but today it was all just amusing.  Of course, he was still trying his darnedest to do his job, but every moment of chaos served a greater purpose.  He didn't know for certain that today would be the day the Moda Tong would come to try and collect on Ainsworth's debt but – a second pair of security hands went past the security chief holding yet another rage-filled fowl – they would be fools not to try it.

The second bird was released with its fellows and it leapt squawking at the men who'd just freed it.  They darted back and having established its superiority, the bird calmed its feathers and paced back and forth, daring anyone to come near.  As the men drew back to the doorway, Jonathan quickly laid out his orders.  "Get someone on this door, now.  I don't care if you have to drag up a mechanic and throw him in a suit, this door does not open unless there is a human here to monitor and control what goes in and what goes out.  If there's not a person stationed here, the door gets locked and anything that needs to go in or out gets rerouted through the parlour."

"Yessir," the four men chorused, and three of them headed back inside to resume what they were supposed to be doing while the fourth switched to the household channel on his earbug and began trying to track down a body anywhere on the estate that wasn't already occupied.

Jonathan drew in a deep, calming breath and was straightening his pristine white waistcoat when Wallace's voice came through, relaying information about a crash involving potential wedding guests.  The boat didn't immediately seem to be tied to someone on the official guest roster, but anyone might have chartered passage, and there were those extra tickets that had gone out as if this were some sort of sporting event...  Jonathan reminded himself that he wasn't upset about the potential security risks there. "How many wedding guests are there aboard the ship?  And how many non-attendees are they asking us to put up?" he asked.  Ordinarily, he would have simply had his staff direct the lot of them to the nearest hotel, but... charity did have a way of repaying a man in the long run.  "Do they need a ride?  Have them drop the guests at the front door and send them to the conservatory.  Tell them to slow walk it as much as possible.  We're already babysitting the Duke and Duchess, lets see what we can do to keep the crowd of early birds from getting too large.  Have anyone without a ticket dropped off in the mail room."

Jonathan slowly paced across the room, listening in on the household channel to get a feel for what part of this maelstrom needed the most attention.  He'd decided for the kitchen by the time he reached the inner door and set off in that direction, hoping to make it without running into the bride or groom.

[Sionnach]

The thief/infiltrator had given serious thought to pulling his green and grey mask (the same color as his long coat) on and scaling to the top corner of the cargo hold behind one of the lights to listen in to the conversation Amorru, The Debutante, and Octavia were going to have the security folk or render aid to them if need be.  He dismissed the idea fairly quickly however. 

Odds were good that the security people might want to actually see the personnel manifested to be on the ship which included himself.  Sean was good at seeming to appear and disappear when he wanted but he had very little chance of moving from the rear of the cargo hold to the front in time without raising suspicion.  He also doubted he'd hear anything of enough value to make the sneak worth that kind of risk. Moreover he really wasn't that good in a straight up fight.  Thrown knives tended to not be of that great a use against the kind of body armor security personnel tended to wear.  He was very accurate with his blades, but accuracy dropped off considerably when both he and the target were moving. Even more so when he was being shot at.  No, as much as he was wanting to be helpful and be "one of the crew" being proactive in this situation would most likely do more harm than good.

He did do one of the things that would be of use that he also excelled at and took a very small pull from the actual bottle of whiskey and swished it around his mouth a bit and then swallowed it...gargling would just be too much of a giveaway to the rest of the crew.  He did, however, sing softly to himself with a wry grin as he set the bottle down.

"Back in school again Sionnach plays the fool again," he paraphrased the ancient song as he let his eyes become glassy again, his face become slack, and his posture loosen to that of someone who drank far too much, which his breath now matching the every present ploy.