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| - Zara is flopped in the engineering chair, still smoking, even though it's fairly likely she's not supposed to smoke onboard. "We're ready t'go." She says, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. Malion must have finished securing the armoury, as he walks in looking a few kilos lighter. That can be attributed to the shotgun now being absent. The Martian makes his way towards the co-pilots seat, and then lowers himself into it. He takes a moment to do up his crash webbing. Swiftfoot pads in from the aft compartments, the bag of cash in one paw and her expression carefully neutral. The felinoid makes her way to the nav console, stopping before she sits down to secure the money into a compartment next to the pilot's chair. That done, the Demarian sits down, and fastens her safety restraints before turning to look over her shoulder. "So, how'rre you two doing? Hrh, I'm prrobably the only one that feels even mildly bad about what we just did, meh? I'm a wuss." "He deserved it. I feel a little bad, but maybe if he didn't bring it on himself, it woulda been different." Zara replies, taking a deep drag of her cigarette. "Don't stress over it. There's nothin' you can do. Once we get to New Luna I think I'll take a shuttle to Quaquan. You don't need me around anymore now that the slimy guy is back." Ambition appears in the aft hatch, leaning against the bulkhead. In his hand is a tumbler of brandy to which he must have helped himself. "I certainly hope you're not talking about me," Ambition says, turning mirrored shades until they reflect Zara's face. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Malion replies, as he starts to run through his pre-flight checks at the co-pilots terminal. "Fuck deserved it, shooting me with a stun gun." Swiftfoot snorts softly. "Naw, she's talkin about Rrokke, ourr engineer. Nobody knew wherre he was forr the longest time," she explains, eyes on the nav console as she apparently goes through a series of pre-flight checks. "I still like havin ya arround, Zarra. Err... sorry about us leavin Quaquan. Therre was some fucked-up stuff goin on therre, meh?" The felinoid, seemingly satisfied with the results of fiddling with the nav console, takes hold of the controls. The Jackal's engines rise to a higher pitch as the ship lifts off the landing pad, turns, and heads out in a wide arc towards the stars. "Liking having me around doesn't count for shit if I can't be fucking useful." Zara points out evenly, ignoring the male Timonae's comment. She seems a bit dejected, actually. "I just wanted to help." "In my experience, a ship needs as many skilled hands as it can afford to feed," Ambition points out after careful deliberation. "One more engineer means ten more digits that can be put to work repairing damage, if it comes to that." The Gunsmith doesn't add any comment, continuing with his work in complete silence. Swiftfoot snorts softly. "I couldn't agrree morre," she agrees, ostensibly nodding at Ambition, though her eyes remain on the screen until the ship slips into transition space. "Rrokke was always prrone to bouts of disappearring, in any case. I swearr, he hiberrnates on top of a cabinet in Engineerring forr weeks at a time orr something." "What if Mika comes back? Then all of us that you hired are out, aren't we? Gonna bring back all the people from before, and we're not necessary anymore. In the end, it ain't even your ship." Zara responds, a bit sullenly, finishing her cigarette and putting it out on her arm. "If Mika comes back," Ambition speculates, "it will be as a wanted fugitive. If she wants to oust the group that is already here, then that group must weigh the opportunity costs. Namely: which costs more, losing their jobs, or claiming the bounty on Tachyon's own head?" He asks, objectively. "The moral and ethical costs, as well as the risks of failure, would all have to be taken into account." "-If- Mika comes back," Malion pipes up, sounding slightly optimistic that she won't. "Then I'll sabotage every fucking gun on this ship that I don't own... Well that's if I get fired, I don't then she's all good." "That ain't gonna happen," the Demarian says, shaking her head. "She gave me authorrity to hirre and firre, and rrun the company and the ship as I saw fit while she and Torr arre away. Everrything I've done has been along those lines of interrest." Swiftfoot shrugs vaguely, and looks back over her shoulder at Zara. "I'd still like to have you on, perrsonally, if you don't mind sharring the duties sometimes, when Rrokke can be found. I think you'd get along with him, anyhow." The felinoid quirks an eyeridge then, and looks back at Ambition. "Anyone that trries to collect that bounty is gonna have to deal with me, too. I'd like to think it wouldn't come to that, but eh..." She trails off, pausing for a moment. "Money does funny things to people," she muses, her tail flicking erratically. Zara looks vaguely uncomfortable, but doesn't say anything else. She doesn't really feel like arguing right now. "If you don't need me for anything else, I'm going back to quarters." She mutters, getting to her feet. "Mika's demonstrated resistance to capture, combined with the network of expertise to which she is connected and her own numerous skills, make her far more useful to me alive and free than in a jail cell somewhere," Ambition says to Swiftfoot with a smile. "Furthermore, the amount on her head is nowhere near enough to make me get up and attempt to collect it." He gestures vaguely. "Nonetheless. I believe we were going to talk business. I've some bad news; the plans we were speaking of have become further complicated. I wanted to bounce some ideas around until we came up with a less shaky one." Malion continues on with his work, but still manages to listen in on the conversation. He doesn't say anything when Zara decides to leave, just continues with the checks. Swiftfoot's brow furrows, and she looks over her shoulder at the retreating figure of Zara, then sighs before she shifts her eyes to Ambition. "I didn't mean to imply that I thought you werre going to trry to collect. In any case, explain what you mean by complicated, and we'll see what we can do as farr as ideas, meh?" "I've been, for lack of a better word, casing landing pads," Ambition replies. "A smash-and-grab job won't work, nor will making an attempt without a thorough cover story. In order to succeed, we must have a suitable con." "They owe cash?" Malion suggests, still continuing with his assigned task. "Debt collectors collecting what the 'employer is owed." "Hrrr," the felinoid muses, her eyes on the viewscreen as the ship slices back into realspace. "Okay, so, do you have any ideas so farr?" Swiftfoot's eyes are still facing forward, and her paws are on the Jackal's controls, angling the freighter toward New Luna. "That's not a bad idea, Mal," she comments. Ambition nods. "I've explored the debt collector angle," he agrees. "The problem is, debt collection agencies would notify law enforcement beforehand of any attempts to enforce a lien. I'm not sure how solid a cover agency we'd need to create." Swiftfoot mrrls softly and nods as the ship glides to a relatively sedate stop on the landing pad. "Yeah, that seems a little... well, we'd have to come up with something that could take some looking in to. It'd prrobably be easierr to find someone that alrready worrked in debt collection, and see if they could be brribed, to be trruthful." The Demarian shrugs vaguely, and taps a few keys, after which there's a drop in the freighter's engine pitch. She then starts unsnapping her safety harness. [IND Jackal:] >> Outside the Ship: "Rya, she is more than welcome to join us," Ace offers, a large pack slung over one shoulder and a bag in her other hand as she heads for the beach. Ambition's mouth goes crooked and his eyes narrow in a so-so expression. He waggles his hand. "Possible," he says. "But there may be other ways around it." [IND Jackal:] >> Outside the Ship: "Why is...? Is...? Ace." When confused, one must always consult the all-knowing Ace, and this is precisely what Raz does, his attention shifting from one captain to the other as the trio makes their way from the Faux's interior. "Whyfor Sleepyhead needs the checking-up?" "Idea," Malion says, as he starts to loosen his crash webbing. "Couldn' we work with false papers or something? Use an existing agency... without them knowing." Zara thumps back into the cockpit with a slightly sour expression, hands shoved in her pockets. "Swifty? I need t'talk to you for a minute when you get the chance." She mutters, then turns to head back from the direction she came. [IND Jackal:] >> Outside the Ship: "A bunch of thugs tried to extort her." Jack answers Raz. "Got her all shaken up an worried-like. She's pretty much locked herself up in her house for the last few days." "That's not bad, eitherr," Swiftfoot says, head tilting to the side. "Hrr, looks like they'rre headed to the beach. I'm gonna go back and get changed. Wanna get out of this damn flak jacket, anyway. It fucks up my furr." The Demarian nods at Zara. "We can talk while I change, meh?" She snags the bag of ill-gotten cash from the compartment near the nav console, and pads toward the hatch leading aft. "See you boys outside." Zara follows Swifty into the crew quarters, not bothering to unload her guns, armor, or anything else. It might be hot outside, but she's not about to let it get to her. Swiftfoot clump clump clumps into the crew quarters, sitting down on the bunk and setting the bag of cash beside her to kick off her boots before starting to strip the flak jacket off. "What's on yourr mind, chief?" she inquires, brow furrowing faintly with concern. "I hope you'rre not mad at me..." Officer's Locker. "No." Zara says, looking a bit awkward as she sits down, rubbing the back of her neck. "This is totally dumb, and you're probably gonna laugh or something at me..." She trails off, ducking her head again. "Ne'mind I shouldna said nothin anyway. Forget it." "No, no, whateverr it is, it's not dumb," Swiftfoot reassures the Timonae as she drops the flak jacket onto the bunk with a solid thump, the gloves dropping atop it. "Cmon, it's me, Starrchaserr. You can tell me any damn thing you want, and I won't laugh." The Demarian removes her pants and shirt, setting them aside on the bunk. "I was wonderin'...if you...wmfndpmn..." She trails off into a mutter, finally reaching up to take off her kevlar vest, refusing to raise her eyes even a little. Swiftfoot flicks her ears, and tilts her head to the side. "Err... not surre I caught that. Sorry..." The felinoid shakes her head briefly, fluffing out the fur around her head and chest before starting to rummage in the drawers under her bunk for some more clothes. "Ah, that's betterr. Now what did you say? I couldn't hearr it." "I was wonderin...if you, um...wanted to adopt me." Zara says with utter and complete mortification, staring down at her boots. She lets out a little sigh, then shakes her head. "That sounded really dumb, huh?" "That's not dumb at all," the Demarian says, stopping with her rummaging and blinking down at Zara. "I... wow, I don't know what to say, otherr than I'd love to." Swiftfoot blinks again, then looks down at herself and grins. "I'd hug ya, but I'm naked. Lemme put some clothes on firrst." "It's not like you're not my family anyway, an' I thought it would make sense, you know? And um...then maybe I wouldn't feel like...you know, that I'm just in the way all the time." She trails off, and then sighs. "Those sound like stupid reasons." A hand comes up, and she rubs the back of her neck again. "I just don't like bein' alone anymore." Swiftfoot nods solemnly, still standing there buck naked. As naked as one gets when covered in eight inches of fur, anyhow. "Yeah, I know what you mean. So what, you wanna be Zarra Starrchaserr?" The Demarian grins, then looks down at herself again. "Oh yeah, I was gonna get drressed." She moves to do just that, digging out a pair of khaki shorts and a matching vest, and an olive-colored shirt. As a final touch to her outfit, she slips a stun pistol out from under her pillow and slides it into the waistband of the shorts. "Kay, now I can hug ya, if'n ya want." Zara gets up to her feet and does just that, hugging the taller Demarian tightly. "I want a new name, too, I don't like Zara. I just have to find it. A name for just me." Her voice is slightly muffled, but not sounding quite so upset anymore. "I thought you might think the idea was kinda dumb." "Neverr," the felinoid says, returning the embrace carefully. "We'll do it when we get back to Demarria, meh? That's wherre I've got citizenship. Least, I think I've still got citizenship therre. Meh, if not, I can apply. Shouldn't be too tough if Mal got it." Swiftfoot chuckles then, and pats the back of the Timonae's head affectionately. "Cmon, we should get out therre. They'rre prrobably wonderring if I'm gonna keep all the money forr myself." Zara nods her head and looks apologetic. "Okay, sorry. I just wanted to make sure." She smiles a bit lopsidedly, then heads in the direction of the door. "Where was everyone going, though?" She inquires, shoving her hands into her pockets again. "Nah, don't be. They'rre headed to the beach, I think," Swiftfoot replies, stopping only to grab the bag of money off of the bunk and tucking it into an inside pocket of her vest. "Gonna go have a little parrty, I guess. Seems a bit morrbid, but eh." She shrugs then, and pads toward the forward hatch. Zara glances around the beach as she enters with the Demarian, and points out, "They're not here." She seems a bit puzzled by that, and raises an eyebrow questioningly. "Did they go somewhere else?" Swiftfoot shrugs vaguely. "I thought they werre coming herre," she says, her expression somewhat puzzled. "Meh, and herre I was looking forrwarrd to a rrelaxing evening on the beach." Zara scratches the back of her neck and shrugs, slipping a flask out of her pocket and screwing it open, taking a sip. "I don't have any swimsuits that fit anymore, or I'd go swimming or something." She mutters quietly. "Meh, just go naked," the Demarian suggests, chuckling. "S'morre fun that way anyhow." Zara shrugs and pulls her t-shirt over her head, baring her skinny, faintly pale-scarred chest. "Watch my pants? I got like...all my stuff in em." The pants literally clatter and clank as they hit the ground, and she kicks off her shoes and socks, padding down to the water in her underwear. Delgado glances over the beach, squinting for a while before putting on a pair of sunglasses. He's not exactly dressed for the occasion, glancing over the ocean and swinging in his feet thoughtfully. "Surre," Swiftfoot says, chuckling as she digs her toes into the sand. The felinoid mrrls in contentment and looks out to sea for a moment before her keen hearing picks up the sounds of someone walking down the beach. Her ears flick in that direction, followed shortly thereafter by her eyes, one eyeridge quirking upward as she spots the suited man walking across the sand. Zara splashes into the water with a small whoop, disappearing under as she plunges face-first into an oncoming wave. After a minute She appears again, hair already trying to escape its braid. Delgado glances down at the Demarian through the shades, turning his head to stare at her for a moment. He pats his suit in an almost involuntary movement, touching some object inside that isn't there, and raises an eyebrow. Swiftfoot's gaze flicks toward the Timonae for a moment before returning to the suited man, just in time to catch him patting his clothes. The felinoid chuckles softly, a wry smirk creeping across her muzzle as she stares unblinkingly back at him. Zara splashes around happily, her silver hair finally escaping and tumbling down her back. She's not wearing anything apart from her underwear, the rest of her clothes up next to the Demarian. The familar sound of a pair of thongs on sand worn can be heard coming from the landing pad. A moment later, the gunsmith from the Jackal wanders into view. For once he's actually dressed for the occasion, well almost if it wasn't for the grey tee shirt he wears. A blue beach towel hangs from his shoulder. Delgado glances over at the arriving man, shrugging and looking back at the Demarian, stepping closer. "Thought the beach would be empty," he says conversationally, looking over at the sea. "Pity," he finishes. "Hrh," is the Demarian's first response. "Well, it's good to meet you too, sparrky." She snorts and looks over her shoulder at Mal then, chuckling. "Nice shoes, Mal." Zara glances over her shoulder, just within range to hear that there's conversation, but not any of the specifics. She raises both arms over her head to wave to Malion, and is promptly knocked over from behind by a larger wave. Malion returns the wave to Zara, as he makes his way towards the Demarian and the unknown party. With each step he takes, the thongs catch a little bit of sand of them, and flick it into the air. Delgado just turns to give the Demarian a bemused glance, shrugging and looking back into the water. He gives the approaching man a slight nod. "So, what, you don't like aliens, orr you don't like girrls?" the Demarian inquires of the suited man, a smirk finding its way across her muzzle. She snorts and flicks her tail irritably, shaking her head. Zara surfaces with a sputter before paddling out a little ways, enjoying the water. Her lack of any clothing apart from a pair of underwear doesn't seem to bother her in the slightest, after all, when you're a skinny kid, there's not much point in hiding anything. "Problem Swifty?" Malion inquires, as he looks to the suited man. For a moment he glances across to Zara, for a moment before looking back to Delgado. "I don't like people," the suited man replies, giving the Demarian a wry grin, "But I make an effort. Name's Michael, if you're wondering," he finishes, looking back at the sea and noticing Zara, raising an eyebrow. Ace makes her way out to the beach, snagging a couple of bags she'd left by the edge of the landing pad on the way. She pauses at the sight of the stranger in talking with Swiftfoot, but then shrugs as she drops the smaller bag and opens the other, sliding out a folding grill complete with utensils and disposable plates and such. "Anyone hungry?" Swiftfoot shrugs at Malion and flicks an ear. "Hell if I know, I just met the guy. Says his name's Michael." The Demarian blinks at Delgado, and shrugs. "People arre, in generral, stupid. Howeverr, if you go arround trreating them all as such, you'll only piss off the smarrt ones while you'rre at it." She shifts her eyes to Ace then, and as if on cue, the big cat's tummy rumbles. "Just a bit," she says, grinning toothily. Aisrya walks onto the beach from the patio of the house by the landing pad, carrying a beach towel with her. She sets up camp by where Ace sets up. Zara notes the activity and comes splashing out of the water, pushing her hair out of her face. "What's goin on? Are you makin' food?" She inquires, dripping. Not only did she neglect to bring a swimsuit, but she doesn't have a towel, either. The Martian gunsmith arches a brow slightly at the name of Micheal. "Sounds like a fucking Earther name," Malion grumbles to himself. He takes a moment to adjust the blue beach towel before glancing over his shoulder to Ace aftering hearing her call. "Sounds like ya got a bloody plan." Delgado grins at the big cat, nodding slightly. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by the Martian. "Why? You got something 'gainst real live Earth humans?" He asks, glancing over at Malion. "Da," Ace grins, lighting the grill and then popping open the second bag which was stocked with ham and sausage and actual real eggs and cheese. "Used to do this often," she explains, looking over at Rya, "You all know Rya, da?" she asks, flipping the panel over one half the grill so she could make the eggs. "Options are scrambled, scrambled or scrambled," she offers, nodding to Michael, "Privet, Michael. Am Ace," she introduces herself, her accent giving her away as Ungstiri. "It'd explain why he don't like aliens, meh?" Swiftfoot says, shrugging at the Martian gunsmith. "But not why he don't like girrls." The felinoid chuckles then, her whiskers bristling. Aisrya waves a little to everyone before sitting down on her towel. Jack moves out to the very edge of the patio leading back into the house, leaning against the railing and watching the action on the beach from a distance, lit cigarette dangling between two fingers. Zara eyes Ace's food preparations, then grins. "Thanks!" She calls to the Ungstiri as she turns around and goes sprinting back for the water, wet hair flying out behind her. She pauses at the water's edge, and calls back to Swifty, "If you want to have some of my flask, it's in the second pocket down on the left side. Don't look in the first one, though, I think there's something melted in there!" Malion shrugs slightly, before chuckling. "Only when those bastards call themselves Martians," he replies to Michael before cross his arms across his chest. "Ya ain't one of those fuckers are ya? Ya know, the ones who think they -own- Mars." The sides of his lips turn up in a smile. "Ain't gonna have a problem if ya ain't one." He looks out the side of his eye towards the larger Demarian. "Maybe he's like that strange arsed doctor on Demaria, a man lover." A wave is return to Rya. "Never set foot on Mars my whole life," Michael says, relaxing and looking back at Swiftfoot. "Oh, I got nothing against aliens," he says. "They're nicer to deal with, even, 'cause they don't think like you." Oddly enough, Ace doesn't bat an eye at the half naked girl running across the beach, and anyone who was familiar with the Faux's reputation might understand why. "Nyet, but spaciba," she calls back, "Never seems to go well with breakfast, da?" It doesn't take long before the smell of roasting meat wafts on the morning air. The Demarian chuckles and flicks an ear, looking down at the suited human. "So what brrings you out to the beach in a suit, Michael? Doesn't seem like you'rre quite drressed forr the occasion, meh?" After a moment, the Demarian tilts her head to the side, and snorts. "I'm being rrude. The name's Swiftfoot. This herre is Malion," she says, indicating the Martian gunsmith. She scents the air lightly then, and mrrls hungrily. "Smells good, Ace." Aisrya lays down on her stomach and folds her arms in front of her so she can rest her chin on them. Zara decides to take a nap on the beach instead of going back to swimming. Jack comes down the stairs of the patio, not really dressed for the beach, but managing all the same. He makes his way over to where the smell of food is coming from. "How ya going?" Malion says, attempting to be civil towards Micheal. "Yeah, Malion Vincess. Just call me Mal." He looks back across to the Ungstiri. "When's the grub on? I'm starvin'." Yep, he's full of tact today. "Ya need a hand Ace? I can burn things pretty well." "Morrnin, Jack," Swiftfoot says, offering a wave of a paw. She stares at the cooking food for a moment before sighing. "Meh... hungrry as I am, I should prrobably get some sleep. I'm still rrunnin a bit shorrt, I have to admit. Not burrning as bad as I was, but still not up to parr yet." Delgado nods at Malion, turning his head back to grin at the Demarian. "Had some business down in Deepcrest, so I decided to come down here. Tourism and shit," he says, shrugging. "You are very impatient," Ace scolds Mal as she continues cooking, "But...it has been very long time since I have felt like cooking again. Been eating out more than in these past months...can manage okay, spaciba." The first plate finished it goes not to the drooling gunsmith or the tummy rumbling Demarian but to the sunbather nearby, "I know it is not Raz's cooking, Rya, but it will have to do, da?" Kastaprulyi slips in through the trees, floating about seven yards high in the afternoon sun. The young Centauran leaves a circular trace in the sand as it drops to the usual four feet of height at the end of the pathway, then slips tracelessly over the beach toward the gathering. Jack glances to the new faces, then back to the cook. "Thanks for the meal, Ace. I appreciate it at least." Aisrya looks up at Ace and smiles. "I bet it'll be just fine," she says with a chuckle. She accepts the plate. Malion stands near Delargo and Swifty. The Martian gunsmith holds his hands up, palms facing outwards in defence. "Not me fault if it smells good," he says in defence of his scolding, given to him by the Ungstiri. "Oi ya Jack." Lucius strolls onto the beach as the midday sun bathes it, further refracting light off the golden sands and making it appear even more dreamlike and beautiful. He wears a happy smile on his face, spotting the massive group and heading there. Ace begins to just pass out plates of breakfast - cheese omelettes with sausage and ham on the side - to anyone who happens by, her supply rapidly running low. "Need more eggs," she says, tossing the spatula to Malion, "Will be back soon." Jack takes his plate of food back into the house with a silent nod at those that greeted him. Swiftfoot waves a paw. "Alrright, you guys, I'm gonna go catch a nap, now while I feel the urrge, y'know? Otherrwise I may not sleep forr another couple of days." The felinoid risks a wistful glance back at the food, then snorts, heading back up the beach. As she passes by Lucius, the big cat nods, and flicks her tail. "Ey, chief." Kastaprulyi sends crewmates and nearby companions a feeling of greeting, slipping off to join those at the grill. "Hello..." Kas offers aloud. "Are we having a party for everybody?" Kas asks enthusiastically. Lucius's expression further brightens as he notices Ace, a hand lifting up to wave to the woman. "Captain. Fancy seein' you here." A chuckle. To Swiftfoot, as she passes by, "I'm most likely a-okay for the commitment, Swifty." "I don't fucking know Kas," Malion replies, as he takes over the cooking duties. "Anyone know the number for the hospital on planet?" he casually replies, its hard to tell if he's joking or not. He loads up the plates, same way that Ace was doing it before him. "If I'm cooking, ya gonna need it." Delgado peers about himself for a while, before stepping away from the beach, staring at his watch and muttering. Aisrya quietly eats her omlette while laying, belly-down, on her towel. "Sweet Brrakirr, someone's letting Malion nearr a stove?" Swiftfoot inquires, looking over her shoulder at the aforementioned Martian. "Betterr go get a doctorr now." She chuckles, flicks her tail at Kas, then turns back to Lucius, nodding. "Good to hearr. I'll see you then, meh? I was on my way up to the ship forr a nap. Gotta take it wherre I can get it these days." "Hey Mal. You got any more where that came from?" Lucius asks hopefully, moving closer to where Malion has just started to cook. The Martian man pauses to stretch out, waiting for a response from Mal. He offers a wave, in the meanwhile, to Rya and Kas. Finally he breaks his silence to respond in kind to the Demarian. "Most likely.. pending approval from the Big Man." Lucius certainly puts emphasis on these last two words. "Rest well," Kas wishes as Swiftfoot departs. "I'm glad everybody's getting together here." The young Centauran quiets for a moment, as if trying to figure out whether Malion and Swiftfoot are joking; it slides to a stop a safe distance from the other side of the grill. "What happened when you cooked before?" Kas inquires curiously. Malion starts to serve up a plate for Lucius. "Right," he replies, slightly distracted by his cooking. "Just let us know when ya get the news back." A questioning look starts to play on his face before he looks across to the other Martian. "Who did ya order the parts through for ya custom job? Been looking 'round and can't decide who I wanna go with converting a revolver." He looks up to the young Centauran. "Nothing mate, I'm just a bad cook. Glad Ace did all the ground work, just gotta be careful of burning it now." He hands the plate to Lucius, and then looks to Kas. "Can ya guys eat stuff like this, or what?" "Hmm.. ordered from Gladius Industries on Mars. I had to contact one of their sales reps though, and they had this whole complicated procedure... Still, it was worth it." Lucius, ever proud of his creation, removes the 10mm from its holster and flashes it to Malion with a grin. Kastaprulyi returns a feeling of acknowledgement to Malion. As he explains the remarks, Kas circles around and raises pink eyes over the level of Malion's shoulder, seeming to peer over to his grilling work. "I can east stuff like the sand here," Kas answers helpfully. The young Centauran suggests some uncertainty at the display of a weapon, but shifts for a better view anyway. "I picked meself up a second hand revolver when I was on TeeKay," Malion replies, finally getting around to cooking something up something for himself. "Thinking 'bout ordering the parts to make it into a fiddy cal, extend the barrel, and perhaps even a laser sight for show." He doesn't pay much attention to Lucius' 10mm pistol. He then looks across to Kas, arching a brow. "Didn't expect that answer." The rural Martian goes back to his cooking. "Hey man, Centaurans evolved in a completely different environment. Figures they eat other things.. they don't breath oxygen, neither." Lucius chuckles, sliding the weapon back in its shoulder holster which runs under his t-shirt. "Revolver's great to get ya outta any pickle, you'll never see one of 'em jam. And a fifty call is just vicious. I like ten milli but I don't know if you can cram it into a revolver... probably. Modify the barrel and cylinder. The reason I didn't go for anything higher was.. well, similar to ten milli in damage and velocity, with the .50 being more accurate at range, and the fact that ten milli bullets are small enough so that you can store more than if you had a .45. Imagine that, higher velocity, less space." He seems really quite engaged in this conversation, sitting down next to Rya on the sand with his food. "Looks good." Aisrya finishes her omlette and sets the plate aside. She then rolls over onto her back and slides her pants off, revealing a bikini bottom. Kastaprulyi returns a feeling of agreement with Lucius's remark, though remains mostly quiet during all the talk of weapons. "Have you studied using drugs for security work, using weapons that aren't supposed to kill people as often?" Kas ventures. "I know they didn't breath bloody oxygen ya daft prat," Malion grumbles as he turn off the portable barbeque, and starts to dish out his own plate. "Just didn't bloody know what they ate, ya know?" He takes a moment to take test of the partly burnt food he was in charge of not burning. "Not too bad." He takes a moment, slowly chewing and then swallowing. "Thing is though Lucius. When I shoot some fuck, I like them to stay shot. I wanna have something in me collection that puts a man down, which ain't me shotgun. I reckon if ya did some serious modification work, ya could do it well." He takes the chance will the grill is still hot to start cleaning it. He looks up to Kas, and remains silent. "You haven't seen mine fired yet. The original ten milli was made for personal defence against those big brown bears they had back on Terra, and wild cats." The Hesperian nods at Malion though. To Kas, he says, "Unfortunately in my job, the kind of people I'm prone to be shooting at are wearing things that negate the use of stun weaponry or drugs. The threat of death is a decent deterrent, I've found. I dislike doing the deed intensely, but it's part of the contract." Lucius shrugs, chopping into his own omelette. "You know, you should realign the cylinder on the gun and make it into an automatic revolver. Where you don't haveta cock the hammer and cylinder each shot with a double action trigger. Makes accuracy much better than when you gotta put a lotta pressure." Kastaprulyi suggests an uncertain acknowledgement to Lucius, seeming to ponder that quietly during the adults' discussion. Kas meanwhile dips down a bit for a better look under the grill. "Maybe something those people're afraid of more than death'd be an even better tool," Kas then offers. "Possible chance of being maimed," Malion replies, using the spatualla to get the excess and burnt fat off. "I think that'd be more of a bloody deterant than death. Who'd wanna spend the rest of their lives in a wheel chair or on life support?" With her pants out of the picture, Rya quickly pulls her top off, letting free the other half of the bikini. "Which is exactly why deadly weapons are sometimes a must. To be honest, I haven't carried a stun weapon since my time in the Legions, and even then it was only rare in urban operations. You make a lot less property damage in crowded urban areas with stun guns." Laughing, Lucius takes a big bite of the remainder of his omelette, seemingly enjoying the cooked eggs and other ingredients. A hand reaches out to motion at the Timmy next to him, saying, "You're awfully quiet today." "Lots of people with broken parts can still do useful stuff," Kas points out. "But making the culture so people don't try doing illegal stuff in the first place is a lot safer." Malion looks down to the stove with a smirk at the Centauran's remark, hopefully hiding from the other beach goers. "Kas, it's bloody easier said than done," he replies. He then looks back up, completely straight face, glancing across to Lucius. "I've usually got a stun gun on me. Like to have alternatives, ya know?" Aisrya looks to Lucius. She gives him a faint smile and a little shrug before laying down on her back. "Nice to have alternatives. Maybe I should invest." Lucius seems rather insistant on this point, only adding, "You know what I do for a living, though, and the kinds of people I need to confront sometimes though. Guns can be the only solution." Lucius shrugs. "What do you do for a living?" Kas adds. Malion nods in agreement with Lucius. "Yeah mate, not every bastard who confronts ya deserves a round stuck in them or energy burns," he states, before starting to scoff down his semi-cold meal. Aisrya folds her hands on her bare belly and looks up at the sky. "When someone pulls a gun out to kill me, he bloody well deserves one. I'm not one to usually light off myself, though. Really, a peaceful guy." That wicked little smirk appears on Lucius's face. "Well, I'm a security consultant for the High Roller. Since we do a lot of different work, the situation changes all the time.” "Gotta be prepared for anything." He adds. "Even people who try killing other people can get cured," Kas points out, "if you can find a safe way for catching them, brining them to the doctors..." Malion rubs his brow, as he leaves the grill behind and carefully makes his way around the young Centauran. He doesn't say anything as he starts to eat, just an amused expression stays on his face. "Yeah, but humans are way too emotional for that kind of thing." Lucius rises, leaving his plate near the rest of the dirty dishes, and brushing the backside of his shorts off. "You know," he remarks to Rya, "I was /this/ close to giving you a big slap on the belly. It was tempting, but I didn't give in." A chuckle. "Hate to be curt though, but I better get to work. Thanks for the food!" Aisrya lifts an eyebrow at the departing human, but just waves a little as he departs. The Gunsmith quickly scoffs down his meal and picks up a couple of drops plates. Malion then takes them over to the rest of the leftovers and starts to pack everything away. Kastaprulyi suggests some puzzlement with Lucius' remark to it. Kas wishes him a "Work well..." then begins to drift off in the direction of the ancient landing pad. "Probably I should go study now," Kas explains. "Catch ya 'round Kas," Malion replies, looking up from his cleaning duty. "How ya been anyway Aisrya?" he asks, looking over his shoulder. "Okay," Rya says softly, perhaps unconvincingly. "Ya sure ya 'right?" Malion enquires, as he puts garbage into bags. Aisrya is quiet for a few moments. "Yeah?" she says, even softer. Malion shrugs, and continues with his work. A moment of silence passes before he finally speaks up. "So how's business? Ya doing many custom jobs these days?" Aisrya shrugs a little. "I've had some work," she says. The Martian continues with his work in silence, not saying anything as he breaks down the portable cooker.
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