Episode Three: Charitable Endeavors

Started by HumanHyperbole, July 06, 2020, 10:04:36 PM


July 06, 2020, 10:04:36 PM Last Edit: July 06, 2020, 10:09:26 PM by HumanHyperbole
Twenty minutes after the explosion of the Atkinson, their guest William Breene had called everyone to the galley. The ship was now a safe distance away but drifting aimlessly through the vast emptiness. So there everyone was, all seated and ready for the man who'd just gotten them into a big ol' mess of trouble to spill it. And he wasn't there yet. He was late. To his own meeting. So the crew had to sit there with their thoughts, and each other for a minute. Some questions probably came to mind.

Questions like: Where the hell was Breene? Why did their missing captain set up some kind of deal with him? What was up with the guy who couldn't feel pain? Why does the ship kind of smell like popcorn now?


Mel had taken five minutes to shower, hurriedly scrubbing the flame retardant goop and human bile of of her body and out of her hair while inventing some interesting and rather adult phrases in her mind, most of which were directed toward either their new guest, or their missing Captain. She'd spent another five minutes dressing in a black tank top and black cargo pants, halfheartedly attempting to dry her mass of hair before leaving it damp and down, and strapping her pistol back onto her hip. That left her ten minutes to walk grumpily toward the galley, sit with a muffled groan into a seat, and stare angrily at the doorway with her arms crossed securely over her chest.

Another five minutes of alone-time before the rest of the crew started to trickle in, then another five minutes of waiting. For the idiot who'd called the meeting. Her jaw clenched and a vein in her forehead began to make itself visible. Forcing herself to relax, Mel leaned back in her chair and put her heels up on the table, attempting to smooth out the snarl that was wrinkling her nose. The edges of her vision stopped being black and full of static and Jo came back into view. The pilot turned her head to stare at him, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she did. Her blue gaze was focused, stern, and unyielding.

Finally, "You did well. Saved us all from exploding. Thanks," she told him, nodding her chin curtly and reaching out as though to pat him on his shoulder. However, her hand only extended halfway before it patted nothing, then awkwardly returned to its place wrapped with the other over her chest. She looked a little pained by the attempt, but chose to clear her throat and look toward the door again.
Dialogue Color: Brown

Holger Heyerdahl

Boarding the Revenge...

Stinking of sick and debased with decelerant, Holger attempted to go straight to the galley (or if we're being ironic, "the Mess".) but was cut off by a snippy Missy. Who shouted about polluting the place up and not being his mother. Well Holger knew that she wasn't his mother. His mother had been dead for more than thirty years. But Missy kept shouting and Holger didn't care so he found himself not in the showers, but in the cargo bay, and Missy holding a powered hose. "Okay." He said with a smile, and stripped down to his underwear. Unfortunately for Missy, he rather enjoyed the harsh, cold spray.

Twenty minutes later and cleaned to Missy's satisfaction...

Holger entered the Galley, still dripping from his bath, but clean and smelling fresh. Of course he had stopped back in the uniform area and found himself an Alliance-issue robe from the Captain's clothes to dry off in. He looked rather cozy, but was less than careful about concealing what was underneath when he sat. "That was fun." He said to whomever had already joined. Whether he was talking about his hosing or the mission, it was unclear. "Buck Stanley broke at least three of my ribs!" He said, as if bragging like he'd gotten a celebrity's autograph.
Dialogue Color - Orange

Izak Archer

Step one of their job was a success. A bit of sideshow, but a success. The return to the ship was just as much of a sideshow as well. Cleaning, scrubbing, slipping, sliding, and Missy's hollering. It was all somewhat absurd.

Izak slipped by the 'mad' doctor to his own quarters and slipped into a change of clothes and grabbed a clean pair of shoes. Heaping his flame retardant soaked clothes in a pile, he made note to clean them later. For now, he was content just to clean his boots in the 'meeting' they had planned. He grabbed his brush and cleaner from his bag, then found a bucket in the kitchen filling it with water he trucked into the far corner of the lounge then pulled over a chair and started scrubbing while they waited for Breene to start talking. Not like there was much for him to contribute at this point. He fought the urge to chuckle as Melody thanked Jo and as Holger triumphantly discussed faced off against a fellow strongman.  They certainly were an odd bunch.

But for the moment, Izak just wanted clean boots. He did not want to be tracking that sludge into his armory. It's the simple things in life after all, so the thought was anyway.

William Breene

July 18, 2020, 05:41:58 PM #4 Last Edit: July 18, 2020, 05:47:37 PM by William Breene
"Cuddle, huddle, befuddle, puddle, muddle, scuttle... butt-le?"

One of several William Breene's hopped down the hallway of the former Alliance vessel one legged, as he pulled his pants on and simultaneously tried one of many relaxation techniques his shrink had taught him. This one was obviously just a distraction exercise in rhyming. The forty something spacer didn't have a career ahead of him in hip-hop. That was for sure.

The XO of the exploded ship was running late because corporate had revoked their hot water as a punitive measure for how many of their shipments were getting surrendered to pirates without a fight. The anger at their employers was supposed to translate towards ferocity towards the crooks they faced. Instead the crew of the Atkinson just turned on each other faster and with less abandon. So he really enjoyed the Revenge's hot water. But he deserved to be pampered. At least he thought so.  Breene did start to relax realizing his former employers were probably going to assume he was dead given the destruction of the ship. The Russo gang however...

Willy came to a stop in the galley, having only just attained the status of only half naked. He smiled self consciously though he at least didn't need to be embarrassed about how he looked shirtless. It would seem his abs have abs. But reaching around to his lower back, he looked less attractive as he strained to pull at something. The sound of tape ripping revealed there had been a plastic pouch taped to his back. He ripped open the packaging then carefully placed the prize inside on the table everyone was seated around.

"Okay, sorry I was late. Needed to loosen up the tape and hose off all the... everything. So uhh I guess this is all the spoils we have left..."

He looked at the sea of blank faces looking back at him. Their captain really hadn't told them a DAMN THING. This was awkward. The crooked cargo hauler scratched at his stubble thinking of how to explain what was going on, or at least what had been arranged before things went south.

"So this is a guidance chip. What was supposed to just be a little bit for myself I skimmed off the top... Yeah I know it's kinda a dick move but we all knew I was a crook going into this... anyway. The deal I'd made with your captain was for you guys to take possession of our haul, and I'd get a small fee for arranging the transfer. Each of these things is worth around half a million credits to the people who made 'em. On the black market, not quite as much but I could call somebody and..."

He remembered these guys fancied themselves gentlemen thieves. Sort of pro-social pirates. The morally gray, and graying man rolled further back in his list of contacts in his mind. Somebody who'd use the chip for something good. He was out in the boonies... but it was the only way he'd get any payday and they'd at least send the chip off to a good cause.

"You guys like cabins?"

There was still the matter of the Russo gang, and the proverbial "beef" they may now have.

Missy Etheridge

Missy was confused and annoyed, and the two were perpetuating each other in a vicious cycle. The confusion caused the annoyance because she really, really hated not knowing what was going on, and the annoyance's name was William Breene, and he caused a hell of a lot of confusion.

Honestly, after the long five-minute wait and the first few words of nonsense he'd begun spewing, she hadn't really bothered to try and follow it; Missy could give less of a yī dà tuó dà biàn how successful or not the pirate crew's piracy turned out. Her job was just to patch them up afterwards -- and apparently clean up after them now, like the ung jeong jia ching jien soh they were -- which reminded her...

Missy waited until Breene wandered to an apparently irrelevant halt, put her hand up very politely in the air, and then immediately asked without waiting to be called on, "Is this going to take long? I apparently have 'at least' three broken ribs to attend to, and tian xiao de what else."
Dialogue color: Cornflowerblue | 6495ED

Talk less. Smile more.
Never let them know what you're against or what you're for.


"Buck Stanley broke at least three of my ribs!" Holger announced proudly. Melody grinned, watching him interacting with the crew, but slowly frowning at the reminder that he'd gotten his entire pi gu kicked because of the man who they were now all waiting for.

When their 'guest' finally decided to join them, her scowl only deepened, the vein pulsing in her temple as her teeth clenched hard against each other. "Okay, sorry I was late. Needed to loosen up the tape and hose off all the... everything. So uhh I guess this is all the spoils we have left..." Her eyes lowered from his face, to the item he'd procured, and then quickly zipped back to lock onto his face again. She could feel her lip twitch.

"So this is a guidance chip ... Each of these things is worth around half a million credits to the people who made 'em. On the black market, not quite as much but I could call somebody and..."

They'd come to rescue a man they didn't know, while pushed onto a mission they weren't briefed on, by a Captain that had abandoned them. And now this fool was standing in their galley acting a whole heck of a lot like he was calling the shots. He was a mutiner, at his core. No matter the reason. Was she going to have to worry about his gun drawing in her direction at some point if he decided he could benefit more from them being out of the picture? They'd risked their lives to go in there and rescue him from a situation caused (in her mind) entirely by himself, and now, thanks to that and thanks to Isa, they were stuck in another situation where they had no control and only a fraction of an idea about what they were getting into. She stood, arms uncrossing.

"You guys like cabins?"

"Is this going to take long? I apparently have 'at least' three broken ribs to attend to, and tian xiao de what else."

Her fist rocketed into Breene's face, her whole body twisting as she put her weight, strength, and training into the blow. Her bones reverberated with the force of the contact. Once finished, her hands lowered, her body relaxed, and she finally took a deep breath. "And that," she pointed out to the Doctor, not looking in Jo's or Missy's direction. Either because she didn't feel she needed to explain herself to them, or because she didn't want to see any disappointment or judgement from either of them.

Melody jutted a finger out toward their guest, "We're going to get that piece of luh suh sold to someone who will get it somewhere not the Alliance, and then we're going to fill up, pay the crew, and the rest will go towards doing what we all came here to do. If Isa promised you a cut, then you'll get your cut. Your fair cut. And not much else. Will that be a problem, or are we zài tóngyī yè shàng?" the pilot asked, raising her brows in question.
Dialogue Color: Brown

Joakim Soong

The main thing Jo was feeling right now was relief. Although the mission hadn't gone entirely according to plan, the entire crew as well as their person of interest had made it back to the Revenge more or less in one piece. Even Mel seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood considering the wringer she'd been put through.

"You did well. Saved us all from exploding. Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Saved myself from having to spend any more time alone with Doctor Horrible.

All in all, even with their guest of honor being late, Jo thought the meeting was off to a fairly good start... but, this being the Revenge, of course it couldn't last. As soon as Mel got up with That Look in her eyes, Jo's insides turned. He knew what was coming even before her fist made contact with Breene's face.

"Jesus Christ, Mel!" Jo's cry fell upon deaf ears as the captain proceeded to issue her angry and completely unnecessary ultimatum to Breene who, as Jo might have to remind her again, was still technically on their side. Against his will and without really thinking about it, he found himself glancing at the doctor with his mouth agape, the universal gesture for "can you believe this guy?!"
Dialogue color: teal

William Breene

July 25, 2020, 10:08:05 AM #8 Last Edit: July 25, 2020, 11:27:45 AM by William Breene
"Springsteen on Ice!"

Willy's head snapped back from the solid right hook to the cheek. He shook his head as if it would help instinctively and let the stars dissipate before rebutting the XO now bumped up to Captain of the Revenge.

"I think you'd like my shrink. 'Transference'. I get it though..."

He winced at the pain still echoing though his well chiseled facial features. He pulled on the plain white t shirt he'd thrown over his shoulder. The collection of scars and the visible seam between his left shoulder and the rest of his arm would indicate that he'd been through more than one scrap before. The jester couldn't totally change his stripes but he expounded upon the situation that got them there.

"It started as an easy grift."

He reached over to his left arm and twisted it slightly, there was a click, then a pop, and the man's human looking limb popped right off. Breene dropped it on the table next to the guidance chip.

"I lost the original protecting a shipment of synthetic explosives for a mining company. We got the shipment to our customer and what did I get for literally sacrificing life and limb? A big, rutting bill. So we started making 'arrangements' with some of the people who might hold us up. Why fight when we can just hand over a predetermined amount of the goods occasionally? Everybody gets paid. Everybody's happy..."

William laughed through his nose and shook his head.

"...But the Captain started to get greedy. Last time we were supposed to have a peaceful transfer of the goods we took the money, and Cap'n Hackenbruch... he pulled iron and then we had to back his play. Today, two hours before we were supposed to meet up and hand over the guidance chips, we had our own little plot twist as I brought us into orbit of that rock. Y'all were on your way but so was another 'buyer': the Russo gang. If you've heard of Buck you know how they built their 'company'. A shark doesn't make deals with a guppy."

He sighed and shrugged. The Celt grabbed his prosthetic arm off the table and snapped it back onto his shoulder.

"You wanna judge me, Purple Belly, knock yourself out. I stick by the deals I make. That's why we're all still here and Buck Stanley is hillbilly space dust. Drop me on Dangun. If I survive the first forty-eight hours, my contact can wire you the credits by the end of day three. Hopefully those corporate cut-throats will forget about your well crafted butts."

He looked around at the crew and left the option open for them to come along.

"I know somebody who can use this chip for some sort of physics experiment... but it'll take a few days and if I can keep the Russos off the doc's back you guys will be okay. I'm the one they really care about. Probably..."

Holger Heyerdahl

Wicked, sick glee flowed through his veins as Holger watched Mel, his first favorite person, launch a fist at his second favorite, the Handsome William Breene. Conflicted feelings about whether or not the punch was deserved; Mel was captain and his friend and he trusted her absolutely. On the other hand, to mar such a beautiful face? Holger was conflicted. But he enjoyed violence, both fairly and of the sucker variety and, having just dolled out and obtained some himself, Holger was positively overflowing. So much so, that he felt positively green with punching envy.

And then they all started talking and Holger lost interest. He took a deep breath in and listened to the wheeze in his chest, then exhaled looking for the same. Once more; his massive shoulders rising and falling as he tested the limits of his air flow. Didn't seem like he had a punctured lung. So perhaps the ribs were merely cracked. Miss Doctor would be sure to look at those for him. His eyes fell on Missy and he gave her a grin.

This was a good battle. And they had won! Holger had not thought that Izak would pull through as he had, but the Ginger Giant had to admit, he was impressed. He felt a sort of kinship that can only be found in those that share a front-line. This Izak was not so bad after-all. That punching-envy began to rear its ugly head again and, combined with the affinity he now felt with Izak, Holger had an idea.

He hopped to his feet as William Breene prattled on and stomped over to Izak. "Izak!" He hollered, and punched the former Purple-Belly playfully, but not softly, in the arm. "You may punch me back, if you like!" He hunkered down and offered the sailor his choice of targets. Holger laughed at Izak's return either way.

At the mention of Buck Stanley and the Russo's, Holger's attention returned to the conversation. "James Russo once tried to hire me. I did not accept. I don't like killing women and children." He said, settling back into his seat. He looked at Melony and remembered they first met. He had almost killed her that day, but Purple Bellies were not women.

Last but not least, as he lapsed into silence, Holger's eyes fell on Joakim and didn't know what to do once they were there. He hadn't bonded yet with the tech specialist. An awkward moment and then deliberate and measured avoidance of eye contact.
Dialogue Color - Orange


"Jesus Christ, Mel!" This was why she hadn't looked back at the two more civilized members of their crew. She knew Jo would object and likely have something wise to say about their current position and how that meant she should treat their guest... wait a minute. Her brows furrowed and she squinted at Breene, staring at his mouth as it moved and hearing pretty much nothing. Why did she care what Jo thought? Why did she feel guilty for striking this mutineer? She didn't. Did she?

Eyes narrowed all the more and her chin tilted up. The pilot stared down her nose at their guest. She listened to their new Idiot's long winded story that she was fairly certain no one had asked him for. He was here. He had a product. He shot his old crew. He was a dick. And now he wouldn't shut up. She was liking him less and less by the syllable. She'd deal with that first and then maybe possibly never deal with the implications of her caring about what this 'crew' thought about her. Best to shove that train of thought right off the track.

"You may punch me back, if you like!" Holger exclaimed, after having heartily punched Izak in the arm. It was the kind of punch where it was clear that the brute was holding back for the sake of friendship and fun, but was going to leave the ugliest of bruises and a sore arm for days. Holger holding back was just any other man punching someone with fully viscous intent. She turned her head just in time to see Izak weakly tap Holger's arm with his own punch, perhaps afraid to anger the fire giant with something more interesting. Melody rolled her eyes and turned back to face Breene as he went on with his sassing and scolding. 

"I know somebody who can use this chip for some sort of physics experiment... but it'll take a few days and if I can keep the Russos off the doc's back you guys will be okay. I'm the one they really care about. Probably..."

"James Russo once tried to hire me. I did not accept. I don't like killing women and children."

Finally, she turned and moved back into her own chair, her feet lifting to rest on the edge of the table. "No one asked you about your life, Breene," she reminded him, head tilting to the side, "But. If you have a place for us to sell your stolen junk that'll benefit those without, then fine. Temporarily lead the way. Just remember. I have no qualms about dumping bodies out the airlock," she informed him, raising her brows and grinning as though the idea of shooting him into space pleased her greatly. And it did.

"To make this smoother, I'll make the introductions for you. If you plan on using this crew for your harebrained plan, best to know who they are. That's Jo. Tech Specialist. Probably a lot smarter than you. Better personality at least. That's Missy. I honestly have no idea why she's still here. She's spicy and probably an acceptable doctor. If you hassle her or give her more work, I'll look the other way if she decides to stick you with something out of spite. This is Holger, kicked more ass, Purple Belly and Otherwise, than anyone I've ever met. Only person I trust with my life," she paused and looked at the other members of the crew and shrugged, "No offense. Anyway, that's Izak, our knowledge bank on these Navy ships and my super best friend who harbors no grudges about anything I might have done to him in the past ever," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And that's..." she paused, sitting up and looking around the room. Mel was silent a moment, then she snorted. "...we left the mechanic behind somewhere..."
Dialogue Color: Brown

William Breene

"Wait, what happened to the mechanic? Did he just climb into the vents looking for his lost cat or something? That would explain the meowing I heard while I was taking a dump..."

He looked up and to the left as if reliving the memory, then snapped back to reality. He realized the Captain or XO he was dealing with, hated his guts, which wasn't an unusual reaction, and that for some perverse reason made him all the more tempted to hit on her. But he suppressed the urge. You usually want to wait a couple of minutes after a woman's punched you before you start wagging your eyebrows at her. And while she did seem to take an immediate dislike to him and the horse he rode in on, she was game for his scheme to offload the chip to the professor.

Willy grinned ear to ear, as if he hadn't just been punched in the face a moment ago.

"Well if I'm supposed to do business with you guys, we have to sanctify our pact with libation! That's why shit never worked out on the Atkinson. They wouldn't agree to a round of group-shots when I signed my employment contract... bunch of gāisǐ de prudes... Also the double dealing with criminals that were going to murder us was also a problem... ahh memories... of an hour ago... whoo... Where's the hooch?"

He directed his gaze to Holger and raised an eyebrow.
"I bet this guy know's where the good stuff is..."


August 16, 2020, 01:41:38 PM #12 Last Edit: August 16, 2020, 01:46:36 PM by HumanHyperbole
Moments later aboard the Revenge:

Only Holger and Breene seemed to think hopping back into the bottle after what they'd gone through the night before and just minutes ago, was a good idea. At least at first. After some searching through the ship, one who's nooks and crannies were still being mapped by the crew, the eldest Breene brother found a loose panel on the wall. Holger made it less loose with a head-butt. Inside were two items that damn near brought tears to the eyes of the agent of chaos.

The ship had a network of vents and crawl-spaces for maintenance, one of which dead ended at this wall panel. Inside was two beautiful sights. A still that had a full gallon jug full of high test moonshine, and a mustachio'd cat named Rasputin.

Simultaneously at an undisclosed location, aboard a Tohoku Class Cruiser

A young officer, only a year out of Academy shifted nervously in front of his superior. She read over the secure data-pad he'd just handed her moments ago. She read carefully, and without emotion. The young officer swallowed hard. He had no idea if he was about to get chewed out or hopefully just ignored. She finished reading, and gently placed the data pad on the desk in front of her.

"It was your decision to position capture teams at the port the Atkinson was meant to deliver its cargo?"

The officer attempted to speak. She cut him off.

"... And your failure to realize criminals don't tend to make the same mistakes twice, unless they're profoundly stupid. Almost as stupid as someone who thinks everyone is as foolish as they are."


She finished the sentence for him.

"...Must not have thought through your ingenious little plan to jump start what you assumed out of masculine vanity was a dead investigation."

She pointed at a screen behind her, which now conveniently displayed the faces of both the captain of the Atkinson and its mechanic, though in their uniforms as Alliance Federal agents.

"Bringing the Russo gang into the mix of this investigation and my undercover operation this early on was so far beyond ill advised it makes me suspect you are somehow attempting to aid this Celtic buffoon. I know you got this position by virtue of your father's office in Parliament. So let me spare you wasting thought on using said connections. The list of favors your father owes me is longer than your biography."

She glanced at the door she wanted him to exit through. He obliged quickly, to go quickly file transfer requests. The Alliance official remained steadfast. Her face didn't betray any of the frustration she felt right now.

"Someone else please...find The Revenge."

Clenched behind her back, a steel encased pen cracked and broke apart in her hand.

William Breene

August 16, 2020, 02:10:29 PM #13 Last Edit: August 16, 2020, 02:14:25 PM by William Breene
Twelve. Hours. Later.

Willy rolled off the bunk he'd found his way into last night. As he slowly transitioned back into this realm of the sober and the conscious, his head rang like a bell and a flash of memories rolled in front of him. Shots with Holger. Nearly gagging on the spoiled cough syrup taste of Rashy Pete's hooch. Arm wresting with Holger. His arm coming off the socket during the rematch. Chasing the cat. Getting punched by Melody again. Right in the face.

Wait, what?

The man went to feel the left side of his face, but realized his arm wasn't attached. Wait. Where's the arm?

The man presently unaware he was the subject of a highly classified Federal investigation now realized he had a case of his own. Stumbling somewhat blindly out of the room he'd been in, still just clad in boxer briefs an extra day's scruff he bellowed out to anyone who'd answer:

"Has anyone seen what appears to be very handsome arm?"

He would ask the acting Captain later why she felt the need to punch him again later. Willy got punched a lot and a lot and it was just part of making new friends. The Revenge was now just one hour away from Dangun. It was also morning local time, as luck would have it.

Holger Heyerdahl

A haggard Holger hefted Breene's hardware haphazardly in his hand, hauling it at his heels as his hangover harangued his head. "I would clean that." He said, dropping the arm to the deck before Breene as Holger passed him by. "Faen deg, Pete." The mechanic's concoction had done its job and then some. The night proceeding was fuzzy, fuzzier than the previous evening. Holger remembered his age in every pound of his head and knew that he needed some water, some coffee, and a shit. Not necessarily in that order. Maybe the doctor lady had some medicine for a head, body, and stomach ache all rolled into one. Science really was magic, Holger reminded himself.

"William Breene!" He said, without turning to face the handsome scoundrel. "Come help me shit!" The request may have been a bit muddled. The big man was asking Breene to join him for coffee. But in Holger's typically brutish parlance.

Settling in the galley, Holger found the makings for coffee and began making a mess while making it. They were instant grounds, not the fresh variety, though the Nord didn't know the difference. All he wanted was for it to be strong. Though there was an instant coffee maker on the counter, he pulled a copper kettle out of the brick-a-brack and set it to get hot on the stove. Holger preferred to cook it over fire as he had been taught as a child and done in the trenches of the War for Independence.

The bag of grounds was opened and, while pouring out easily three times the amount needed for an average pot of Joe, Holger sifted through it with his hands, a habit he'd developed during his time as a Browncoat prisoner of war. Sabotaging sundries was the Alliance's go-to maneuver to "thin the herd." Hiding poison capsules, small and brown like the coffee, but just large enough to see if you knew what to look for. Not to mention bugs. There were a lot of reasons to hate the Purple-Bellies. Messing with a man's coffee was but a minor example. It was an old habit, but Holger had seen the results of dysentery first hand. He had no desire to revisit them, though his ultimate goal may have been similar.

Satisfied the coffee was clean, despite the interference of his hands, Holger left the pot to stew and got to work pouring a jug of distilled water into his mouth that he found under the counter.
Dialogue Color - Orange


"William Breene! Come help me shit!" Holger's voice echoed down the hallway.

Melody stopped walking abruptly on her way to the galley, her body frozen at the top of the stairs that led from the bunks on the lower deck to the main deck where everything (and maybe everyone) was. The pilot thought long and hard about turning around and going back to bed. There was no Breene back in the safety of her room. A groan of resigned defeat escaped her before she resumed her course, hands pushed into the pockets of her black cargo pants. She'd just have to get this over with.

Unlike some of the members of the crew, Mel had chosen not to get plastered and after a few sips of jet fuel and a super enjoyable conversation with Jo, she'd punched in their next coordinates, made sure nothing would crash their ship during the 'night', and gone to bed like a good soldier. Her mood soured as she rounded the corner to enter the kitchen and saw Breene overseeing Holger's morning coffee making. Her eyes lowered to the whole process and she grimaced before shaking her head and grabbing a handful of mugs from one of the cabinets. "Anyone know how to cook?" she asked, her stomach making an awful grumbling noise. Still, compared to those who'd partied last night, she was looking pretty peppy. She knew she needed to go check on the bridge and make sure they were still on course, but her stomach demanded a sacrifice.

"How's your head?" she asked Holger, setting the cups down near where he was working on coffee and eyeing him cautiously. A concussion was no joke, and based on the fact that neither Holger or Breene appeared to be shitting, or assisting each other in the process, she could wager that maybe his noggin was still a little scrambled.
Dialogue Color: Brown

Izak Archer

Izak was not in much of a celebratory moods last night. Someone had to keep things running after all. So he spent the majority of the last twelve hours in the bridge, some time spent napping, most of the time making sure the autopilot Melody set did not turn off.

Simple, straightforward, relatively easy.

It also gave him a chance to finish a bag of beef jerky he had stashed in his bag without anyone drunkenly asking him for a piece...or five...

The silence following the rowdiness was rather blissful. He could not believe that Melody had a made a loner out of him already.

But then the silence was broken by Holger's bellowing. Zak sighed. "If that bear destroys that kitchen this trip is going to get problematic very quickly." He got up from his seat and hit the button for the intercom. Izak fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Someone come up here and relieve me and I'll see what I can make," he said begrudgingly. "Melody, if you want to eat I stashed a snack bar on my station in the bridge before this job; autopilot is still running."

Missy Etheridge

Perched at the kitchen table, as bright-eyed and meticulously-groomed as ever, Missy watched Holger's proceedings with mild curiosity while she sipped calmly at her own second cup of coffee, made with the instant machine some time ago. Neither of the men seemed to have noticed her when they came in, which was unsurprising, considering how worse for wear they both looked, and Missy saw no reason to draw attention to herself until Holger began pawing through the coffee grounds.

"Please tell me you washed your hands first," she said with a moue of distaste. A rather alarming thought occurred, and she glanced down at her mug, then set it carefully on the table and pushed it several inches out of reach. "And please tell me you don't do that every morning."

She gave Melody a cool but not-entirely-unfriendly nod as the captain came in; if nothing else, they were at least currently united by their sobriety and mutual dislike of Breene, and the punch had risen Melody several notches in Missy's estimation.

"Anyone know how to cook?"

Missy shrugged with delicate apathy. There had never been time for anything but canteen meals, instant noodles, and protein bars at med school, and at home, the family cook took care of that sort of thing. She was about to go back to the article she'd been reading on her DataBook before Holger had entered, when Melody asked him, "How's your head?"

"Less than ideal, I should imagine," Missy answered for him, then leveled her Stern Doctor gaze at the ginger giant and added admonishingly, "You know, I really can't advise this much drinking while you're still recovering."
Dialogue color: Cornflowerblue | 6495ED

Talk less. Smile more.
Never let them know what you're against or what you're for.

William Breene

August 25, 2020, 04:34:57 PM #18 Last Edit: August 25, 2020, 04:38:02 PM by William Breene
Quote"William Breene!.... Come help me shit!""

He raised an eyebrow and let a small laugh out through his nose. Half snort, half chortle.

"I'm honored, Holger usually you gotta pay extra for that and bring a towel."

Willy fumbled through the freezer and grabbed a large freezer burned bag of broccoli and pressed against his throbbin' noggin'. Holger seemed to have the coffee and the dumps they were all shortly going to take as a result covered.

"Buddha's butthole that's better..."

Then Izak came in over the PA. Breene jerked up from his relaxed body language and cursed the man who invented speakers. Any kind. He looked over to Mel, who even though she hated his guts, also knew spaceships. Every ship he ever served on, they left the Con at the control of the auto-pilot. Just about any ship worth putting into the black would at least blast an alarm if something came into proximity that wasn't anticipated with a filed flight plan.

After a moment of shooting a glance to the XO turned Captain, the XO turned annoying guest shrugged it off and figured Izak would see the panel in the cockpit. Eventually. Maybe he had a C.O. that made it procedure at some point? Unconcerned with taking a watch at the con, Missy wasn't exactly pleased with the way Holger was preparing for the day's bowel movement. But she'd never spent any time in the Fed's custody.

"Sunshine, you are just lucky you haven't seen how he checks the meat for parasites. Spend time the camps for 'illegal combatants' and you'll get a whole mess of weird habits. I only just stopped checking the toilets for booby traps."

There was some concern from the dock and the captain about big red's head, and if the booze was going to help his uniquely beautiful mind. It also occurred to him in that moment he should have said "booty traps". That joke was just right there the whole time. Infuriating.


"Someone come up here and relieve me and I'll see what I can make, Melody, if you want to eat I stashed a snack bar on my station in the bridge before this job; autopilot is still running," came Izak's voice over the comms. Briefly, her gaze met Breene's, which seemed to annoy her on a ceullular level that they seemed to be sharing a similar thought. How dare he think the way she thought and have a vaguely similar experience as she had when it came to flying. With a glare that'd wither plants, Mel turned to the comm unit and pressed the button.

"Izak, I don't want your mystery snack packet. You're not in a dingy motel anymore, there's a ruttin' kitchen," she reminded him, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temples. "And just come down here. It's called 'auto-pilot' for a reason. It's automatic. I hope you haven't been up there watching it this whole ruttin' time. In case you forgot, the ship will alert me if we get close to anything or veer of course with a handy dandy klaxon. Did living off backwater alcohol during your cushy retirement make you forget how a damn ship works?" she snapped.

She could admit, in a small part of her mind, that she was taking out some of her annoyance about their newest guest on the ex-Alliance man she'd gone 'head to head' with on previous fun-time adventures back when she was with Isa. But that was a lot of personal reflection she wasn't planning on dealing with at the moment. With a clenching of her jaw, she released the comms button and rolled her eyes.

"You know, I really can't advise this much drinking while you're still recovering," the doctor piped up. Melody flinched away from where the woman was sitting, eyes wide and arms ready to grab a weapon. Had she been there this whole time? She'd been so intent upon scolding Izak for wasting his own time (and asking her to go waste hers) that she hadn't even noticed the good Doctor chatting with Holger and Breene about the sanitation (or lacktherof) of Holger's methods. She was like a god-damned tiny ninja...

"...Spend time the camps for 'illegal combatants' and you'll get a whole mess of weird habits. I only just stopped checking the toilets for booby traps..."

Mel moved past the lot of them to reach into one of the cabinets to the right of the freezer Breene had stolen the vegetables from. She rummaged around a bit, cursing to herself, until she found the plain chrome container she was looking for. Sweet, sweet, generic pain-killers. The kind that lacked a label and worked wonders. From her time on this ship, she remembered the crew storing them here and was only a little surprised to see that that hadn't changed. Why change a good thing, she supposed.

In any case, Mel pushed the canister against Breene's chest and stared at him sternly, "Maybe don't stop checking just yet," she warned, then smiled, which might have been more unsettling than her usual expression. The smile dropped and the pilot turned to join Missy at the table. "What's the full plan for today, oh honorable guest?" she asked sarcastically, venom dripping from her words. 
Dialogue Color: Brown

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