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| - The Black and White Tavern This bluesy tavern is cool and inviting, a feeling made possible by its frequent use of stained wood and soft lighting. The walls are covered with old pictures and strange items that seem to have no purpose other than to offer an interesting look. Peculiar chairs hung on the walls, sculptures that look like child projects, items remeniscient of almost every alien race, and a menagerie of good and not-so-good paintings are just a few examples of the culture this room presents. A bar sits in the far left corner of the tavern, a long curved counter that wraps around shelves of alcohol bottles and two large brass stills pressed against the wall. A pair of swinging door nexts to the bar leads into the kitchen, and is constantly being used by the waiters and waitresses as they rush back and forth. Dotting along the bar is a row of bolted steel stools covered with plush crimson cushions. Other seating includes a multitude of round tables set around the tavern in a trial and error pattern that offers plenty of space to move around. On the right side of the tavern, surrounded on all sides by tables, is a semicircular stage, elevated just high enough to distinguish itself. Sitting atop the stage is a pair of simple wooden stools, and set of two microphones attatched to stands. About ten feet above the stage is a rod that curves against the wall, with a crimson velvet curtain that can be drawn to cover the far half of the stage, and hanging just below the ceiling is an electric bar of stage lights, all pointed in various angles at the stage. Just off to the left of the door is an antigrav platform that rises up to the balcony. This section of the tavern stretches across the entire left half of the bar, and has the same arrangement of tables as the lower level. It generally is lit darker than below; what little light there is glows a soft green. Each table has a small reading lamp affixed to the center. Along the very edge of the balcony is an arrangement of comfortable couches that are aimed for viewing at the stage. "An awful lot of bloody wasted time," Amelia gripes softly, closing her eyes and chugging that beer. "I've not seen her since that first time we met, no." Silvereye hmms. "Castor is already a member." He replies. "I don't know if La Terre will send a representative or not. Our relations have been a little spotty what with that madwoman Arise making trouble there." The Terran quirks a brow at Martin. "If she's got you doing any sort of work at all, it has some purpose," Rish observes with a shrug. "One that perhaps only she knows. She isn't one to waste time or money on useless tasks, in any case." "No I'm doing this on my own. She hasn't asked me to really do a damn thing since I signed up." Martin replies, at the bar not a table. A rather unpleasant-looking man steps into the Black and White Tavern, a PDA clutched in one hand. Anyone who spares a glimpse might note that the device's holographic display is set for large-print purposes. He makes his way to a corner table and catches the eye of a server who seems surprised by the customer's presence. The server sees to it that Harkness gets comfortably settled into his table, with his back to the wall so that he can observe the main room. He sets the PDA on the table in front of him, then smiles thinly as the server inquires: "What will you be having, Mr. Harkness." The old man's response: "Whithkey. Thraight. And perhapth an Italian thub." The server inclines his head, bobs acknowledgement, and then hustles away. "Nice lisp." Calm congratulates the man, pausing as the brochure balances on the curve of the small tray's metal arc, sighing when it falls. Amelia opens her eyes to gaze into her beer, then stifles an incredulous laugh at Calm. "Nice manners," she volunteers, very dryly. A very blatantly obviously military man enters the tavern. Not an officer, but a high ranking enlisted member - which means that he's not Sivadian at all. Lucius brushes some lint off of his dress uniform's Republic flag, and glances about. Freyssinet sighs for Silver. "WHat happened with her? La Terre has not exactly been rich of information on the news, and my former contacts seem cut off." Silvereye shrugs at Freysinnet, who he is sitting with at a table near the bar. "I haven't exactly been keeping tabs on it. Demaria has kept me rather occupied these past few months." The Battleclaw's ears perk as he takes notice of the military bearing of the latest entrant. He raises a paw for Lucius. "Sergeant!" He calls. Harkness waves a hand dismissively at Amelia. "No need to come ruthing to my defenth, my dear. I have had thith lithp for longer than your friend there hath been alive, I'd wager, and we came to a thpethial accord many yearth ago. Trouble talking had no effect on my writing, however. It'th helped pay the billth. Tho, there you have it: I'm no orator, but I am happy enough doing what I do." Stay, stay, stay, awwww. Again, the brochure flutters to the polished wood of his chosen table, and Calm doesn't seem ready to surrender. Amelia's pointed correction of him seems second in his mind to conquering the force of gravity. Arizhel frowns. "Really? Hm. I'll have to ask her about that," she comments absently, tapping on the bar with one fingernail. "Well, I know she's been busy lately, but still, I'd think she would have something constructive for you to do." She glances briefly toward Calm, then Harkness, before she turns back to her drink. "Oh she said something about doing something off world for her but she hasn't contacted me since then." Martin says before glancing over at Amelia and smirking. "Manners? This is your planet. Land of smiling sharks and all that." "Battleclaw." Lucius's eyes crinkle up as he smiles broadly, offering a return wave to the Demarian. "Hope you've been well?" His head, turning again, spots Martin, Amelia and Rish. "Oh, my, looks like a gathering. Come, let's all have drinks together." One final turn.. he tilts his head at Calm. "Jack? The fuck you doing here, pardon my Mierz." "It's not your defense, good sir," Amelia replies, slight smile on her full lips. "I'm just amused by his rudeness, more than anything. I'm sure you're rather competent at what you do despite your lisp; and I'm sure he's rather competent at what he does, despite his manners." A soft laugh Martin's way. "What would I know about that." Freyssinet nods to Lucius as Silvereye calls him, and looks at the little crowd gathering. "Yes, a nice evening clientele. There used to be live music there, when I was working at the Enaj med center..." "Well enough." Silvereye replies to Lucius, a grin crossing his own features. "It's been good to be home...But I hear you've been busy." He glances towards the gathering, and then Calm, frowning a bit at the latter. "Don't press it too far, Sergeant. It's not who you think." "Calm," The man referred to Jack replies at Lucius' question, almost automatically. "And that wasn't Mierz, it was Terran Standard, and a common expletive with a flexible connotation. I like it with an upper inflection, example, What the fuck? Though, it is very flexible. But hello to you, all the same." The brochure is placed on the perch once more, and once more, it falls. The old man nods curt agreement with Amelia. "Competent folkth all around, I thupothe." He plucks up his PDA and starts tapping into the keypad. "Perhapth I can find thomeone competent in tharfaring." The last sort of trails off into a grumble as he sorts through information scrolling on the display. "Did you get a brain wipe or something? I thought you and Ace got married." Lucius declares with some confusion. He shrugs, and moves on over to Silvereye anyways. "Missus Lebeau, right? Nice to see you again. Sergeant Major Castus." He jerks his hand out to the woman. "What's with old crazy eye over there?" Arizhel pauses, toying with the little paper umbrella in her drink, then nods at Martin. "I believe Mr. Long mentioned that to me the other night," she replies. "Probably something on La Terre, now that I think about it. Hm." The Terran quirks a brow at Lucius, and offers a polite nod and a just as polite smile. "Evening, Sergeant." "Starfaring?" Amelia takes a heavy drink and sets down her beer finished, eyeing Harkness with mild curiosity. "What is it you need?" "Starfaring? Thought he said paraphrasing.." Martin says before he notices his beer. "Shit.. thats probably gotten cold by now... no.. warm thats it." The man grumbles then takes a swig before glancing at the old man. "What do you need to know?" A brow is lifted and he looks back at Rish. "Yeah, na you'd have to throw a lot of money my way before I agreed to go to that place. Na this was somethin on Mars." Freyssinet shakes Lucius's offered hand, firmly. "Doing good, just a little bit of shopping - for me and the kids." But as Lucius speaks to Calm, she takes notice at last of the man, and her jaws drop. Well, not litteraly, but this is one surprised redhead. "A thip," the old man says, locking his one good eye on Amelia while the other takes in the view of his shoulder. "I would very much like to travel to Nocturn. That young fellow, Kip Cathpar, theemth to be thomeone with an intriguing thory to tell. Rather thocked no one elthe hath tried telling it yet." Silvereye takes note of Frey's response. He takes a drink before replying. "It's not what you think." He tells her. "And it's a long story...Not exactly something we should talk about here." His ear perks in Harkness' direction, which finally gets him to look over his shoulder at the man. Lucius pulls out a Sol quarter credit coin from his pocket, maneuvering it between his index and thumb and then flicking it towards Martin. Hopefully, he makes his mark. He turns back to Frey, and then to Calm. "Yup. That's what I thought." Rish gets a wink. "Hey pookums. Where's our mutual friend tonight? I woulda bought him a drink." Then, to Harkness, "You're a fucking loony. The Mystics will eat you or something." Freyssinet frowns at the older man's words. "I don't think this is a good idea, Sir... His powers seem above what we can imagine. Even those who'd known him long, like my husband, were shocked last time." Martin runs a hand through his hair and nods his head. "Nocturn ya say? Well dats a one hells of a trip. Can't say I got a ship anymore. Phyrrians fucked the one I was using." The Martian gets smacked in the back of the head by coin. "What the hells?" The Martian grumbles and looks over his shoulder and offers Lucius a one fingered salute. "Ello boss." "Who the bloody hell wants to go to Nocturn," Amelia softly laughs, shaking her head. "You can put the assignment out but I doubt many people will bite, good man." Her own single natural eye watches Harkness with amusement. "Is a story worth that?" "Strange. I'm a bit out of the loop, it seems," Rish replies to Martin with a dry chuckle. "Eh. No matter, really. I'm sure I know as much as I need to know in order to do what I need to do." She turns and smiles at Lucius again. "Pookums. I'll have to remember that one. It's rather endearing, actually. As for our mutual friend, well, you'll pardon me if I don't happen to have his forwarding address on me right this moment, I'm sure." With all the attention going toward Harkness, she can't help but send another curious glance in his direction, but doesn't seem to have any reply to offer him just yet. "Arrrgh, Kamiroid Carnivorous." Calm notes, gnashing his teeth together. "Yes!" The brochure stays! But... that excited exhalation knocks it down. "A story is worth exactly how much you are willing to sacrifice for it, I imagine. Person that comes back from Nocturn with information? Rich man. Maybe even fix lazy eyeball issue rich. Probably alot richer. What's Kip's theory?" Harkness shrugs in answer to Amelia's question, then answers, simply: "Yeth." He lets that simmer for a moment, then adds, "The boy wath born in the twenty-theventh thentury. He traveled on Thanctuary, through Hiverthpathe. Now he hath become a Kamir on Nocturn in the thirty-firtht thentury. I know all about the thrange thircumthantheth on Ungthir when he nearly lotht control. I altho remember that he made a dothen Phyrrian warthipth vanith without a trathe." Lucius snorts. "Don't worry, I'm not chasing him anymore. He can have fun doing whatever he does. Tell him I say hi." He blows a kiss at Rish, and winks at Martin. "Heya, man. Hope things working out well for ya. And hey you too, Ame." A smile. "Excuse me." He says to Frey and Silv. And then, he's off to the bathroom, mumbling, "That guy's a fucking nut." "Got out the Vanguard to get away from that kind of crap." Martin rubs his face. "Ask one of those nutball ships that are always flying around." "Is it his weapons you're concerned with?" Amelia says mildly, closing her eyes and shrugging. "Who can say he'd tell you. Aye, you'd need a lunatic or a crew of them for -that- sort of assignment." Freyssinet nods. "Then everything around us went all weird before he collapsed." she completes Harkness's story. "We sedated him, flew away... and the Kamirs came and took him. Remy was not too pleased..." she nods. "Those Kamirs are ... dangerous. They kill for the fun." she says slowly. "To prove, or oblige to prove, their powers. Morden'kamir nearly killed my husband." Harkness sighs, shaking his head. He holds up his PDA. "I want no weaponth. I jutht want wordth. *Hith* wordth. *Hith* thory. Mither Thillman hath invethted a great deal of money in antithipathion of thith ekthpedithion. But I thupoth if no one here ith capable of the tathk, I can thearch elthwhere." "I'll go with you, Lispy." Calm says, studying his nails. "I actully would like to meet creatures that rip the breath from lungs with a thought, and even greater feats when they try." "Yeah great deal of cash or no, you're asking for a great deal." Martin says before looking over at Calm with wide eyes. "Well... good luck with that, hope you got a ship." Freyssinet frowns, watching Calm. "What's this deathwish? Don't you have better to do.. Someone to take care of?" Silvereye shakes his head at Frey. "It's not Jack. Not in any sense." He replies to her, sipping from his beer. "Let them both go." "Ah, pain is so fun," Amelia deadpans, rolling her eyes. "So bloody delightful I don't know why we don't all go to sleep on a bed of nails." Arizhel watches after Lucius for a moment, then returns her gaze to Harkness, listening curiously. Still, she doesn't seem to have anything to offer to the conversation, instead opting to toy idly with her drink. Harkness gets to his feet, shoving the chair back as he does so. "I thank you all for your time and...interetht." He turns his good eye toward Calm. "If you have the meanth to athitht in thith endeavor, you may thend the particularth to my infomatrikth addreth, Charlth Wallithton Harkneth, care of the Cathpar Ekthpedithion." Freyssinet blinks to Silvereye, and whispers something to him. "I'm sorry, what was that?" Calm responds. "You sound like an Odarite is making love in your vocal cords." Silvereye pulls out his PDA and a stylus, writing something on it which he then shows to Frey. Freyssinet re-blinks to Silvereye, and whispers some more. Harkness smiles blandly at Calm, tucks the PDA under his arm, then starts his hunched stroll toward the exit - just in time for the server to emerge from the kitchen with a tray carrying whiskey and an Italian sub, but no customer to pay for either. The server looks toward the departing Harkness and mutters, "God! Again?" Silvereye sips from his drink, casually writing out a reply to Freyssinet. "Pain can be interesting." Martin shrugs over at Amelia then winks before he starts to down the rest of his beer. "Only to you soldier boys," Amelia says dryly, nodding Harkness's way as he departs. "Good luck... sly bastard," she adds, once he's gone and the food arrives. "That man doesn't have a yojj to his name." Calm says with a laugh, apparently tickled, turning his attention back to the brochure and it's wonderful properties.
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