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| - Jeff Ryan arrives from Birthright Parkway . Jeff Ryan has arrived. Martine is seated at a table, nursing a glass of water, not having ordered yet. Her eyes are on her PDA, which is resting on the table. She doesn't look too worse for the wear, but certainly not her usual peppy self. The lunite entering the Tavern, no longer wearing his castaway garb, the coconut forgotton on the Masque last night, looks more his usual heroic self. The benefit of a few hours air and water have done wonders for the man. There's still a few lines around the eyes, and a hint of red that probably lessened somewhat since he first woke up. Spotting Lydia he heads in her direction, spotting a waitress enroute he stops her and places his own order. He sits himself down at the table, "Afternoon." "Afternoon." Lydia responds without looking up, though after a minute she raises her eyes and hands him the PDA. It's currently showing something most people wouldn't usually check, except those in the bounty hunting business. And one of the names is very familiar, especially to him. "When were you going to tell me, Mr. Ryan?" She asks in a calm, clipped tone of voice. He glances at the PDA, and the calm smile fades, meeting her eyes, "You won't believe me, but now. I'd decided on the way here." There's no smirk, nor fidgeting, nor any of the other tell-tale signs a man makes when he lies. He's not even staring at Lydia's eyes the way a man does when he knows the obvious signals. "It doesn't matter anyway. It was a bad idea before I saw that, and a worse idea now. I'm sure you'd come to that conclusion yourself, you're a reasonable, intelligent man." She smiles in thanks as the waitress brings their orders, a simple salad and half of a sandwich for Lydia. His own is a sandwich, three pieces of bread and the rest of it masked, hiding under the lettuce leaf, and a mug of coffee, "I hadn't actually." He doesn't touch his food, though his hands fold around the coffee, for support maybe, "Which is why I'd decided to tell you. If you for some reason wanted to go ahead with this, it was only fair you did it with your eyes open. Whatever my enemies say about me, I try to be fair." His awkwardness of the past few days has left him, "I've lived with a death-mark most of my adult life. It's never an easy thing to live with. But it's what I try to do, live, keep going, staying alive." "I'm not being fair, if I go ahead with this. I'm not just a person, I can't do whatever I feel like." She pauses, taking a sip of water before continuing. "I'm a representative. I'm a partner in this business. I have to maintain the reputation of my company. You said it yourself, I'm the most visible voice of this planet right now. Despite being Martian. My feelings have no say in my life." The lunite sighs and finally nods, "I once told Raisa the same thing. I don't belong to myself, I belong to Future History." Arrogant words from any man, but he looks more saddened, almost heart-breakingly so by them. He takes a sip of his coffee. "I don't know who, or what...put that on your head, but..." She trails off, then shakes her head and takes a bite of her sandwich, effectively silencing her for a minute. After she swallows, she continues. "Right now, this is pretty much suicide for me. For my business. That doesn't mean I'm saying no, though. Once this all gets cleared up, Jeff...I'll be waiting for you. Because this doesn't happen every day, especially not for someone like me. I'd be crazy to cut you out of my life." Jeff Ryan raises an eyebrow, then sighs in relief and smiles, "I wasn't planning on parading around the Masquerade in my robes you know." He shakes his head, "To me neither, I can count the number of relationships I've had in my life on one hand. Well on three fingers. And that's including you." They just don't make 'em like Jeff any more. "So what do we do in the meantime?" "Honestly? I don't really know. This is new territory for me." Lydia admits with a small smile. "I was thinking about eating my lunch, though, and then going to check on Mischa. I'm going to miss her terribly. Bailey says I'm not allowed to start working for another two and a half hours. He's such a bully." Jeff Ryan nods in sympathy at the mention of the the cat, then grins when Lydia mentions Bailey, "Somebody has to." And finally he starts to tuck into his own sandwich, after a couple of mouthfuls he asks amiably enough, "Did I just get dumped?" "No. You didn't." Lydia chuckles, shaking her head and picking at her salad a bit, taking out all the tomatoes and setting them to the side. "But if anything's going to go on in the interem, it has to be discreet. I don't know -what- Ridge would think of me if he found out. Though, then again, the man's full of surprises." Ryan nods, "I'll try and keep the Haste away from wherever you're berthed as a start. Even when you're back here." He shakes his head, "Not too many people know what I look like these days anyway, and I've got the Jackal crew watching my as well. I need to get the Haste off New Luna, even if I have business here. I've been too sloppy lately, even last night's party wasn't the best idea considering my position." He wets his throat with his coffee before taking another bite of the sandwich. "That...man who claims he's a politician. Mr...Mr. Ward? He acts an awful lot like a reporter for my taste. I don't think we should be seen together around him too often. He makes me uneasy. Too friendly." Lydia says, then shakes her head and takes a bite of her salad. "He asks a lot of questions. I still hope you can come see me on La Terre, though. I'll miss you." Ryan nods in agreement with her assessment of Ward, swallowing, "Don't trust all lunites, don't hate all martians eh? My younger self would definitely be having a few strong words with me about now." He smiles again and nods, "I'll miss you too, some point this week I'll take the Haste to the Freehold." He taps his skull, "Centauran Implant." He sighs, "I'm not going to be around too much you know, you've got your work, I've got mine. You've distracted me too much of late Captain Martine." "I know, but it's better than nothing, isn't it?" Lydia says softly, then shakes her head. "We can still send messages. So there won't be as many late night meetings out on the landing pad, but that's life. I'm going to finally get around to hiring a PA, so that'll be a bit of work off of my shoulders. Besides, I still owe Pakmeq a visit, maybe I can do that soon." Jeff Ryan smiles, "A... holiday?" He takes another sip of his coffee, "Why Captain are you considering absconding from your post? The crew won't stand for it." "Ah ah, it'd be business, love. You know I'd never do anything so silly as to take time off." She says with a bit of mischef, spearing a piece of cucumber and nibbling on it. "I need to see that resort on Centauri, since my last visit was so truncated. I just might not be able to do it until the cruise is over, if things don't go well with finding a PA. It may be as long as a month and a half." Ryan nods at that, "Just give me some warning. I'm probably going to restrict my movements to within range of their teleport system." He takes another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully some of the recently revealed mayo slips off, thankfully onto his plate, he's had this before probably. After he swallows it he explains, "It'll help confuse whoevers on my tail." And there is someone. "Of course. I'll do my best. Have you talked to the Xeter's office about contacting me? I really do need official confirmation before I retract my statement, otherwise I could look a bit...wishy-washy. Not that I'll be reporting the real reason or anything, I just like all my paperwork in order." She dissects her sandwich like she did her salad, taking off the tomatoes and setting them aside. "I'll get on it," nods Ryan. "As I explained I've been somewhat distracted of late." He glances at Lydia, "I swear you've had me acting worse than a school-boy." Another bite, and only the crusts are really left of the sandwich. After chewing, he washes it down with coffee. "I'm sorry." Lydia says with one of her rare dimpled smiles. "Though to be honest, I've been no better off. You are rather distracting yourself. To tell the truth, however, I have a feeling we might be even a bit more distracted now." She laughs. Ryan grins and shakes his head, "I'm feeling a lot more... settled now." He jabs the remains of the crusts in her direction, "I'm a lunite don't forget, rob of us of our direction and we just sort of float aimlessly for a while unsure what to do with ourselves." The crusts disappear and he chews thoughtfully. "You want my tomatoes? I hate the things." Lydia says, finishing her own sandwich and offering him the plate with the detested fruit on them. "But I like the acidity it gets in my food, so I always just pick them out." She seems to consider his words for a minute. "I feel settled, but...I have a feeling it won't be so easy to just forget you from now on." "I'm not at that, you ain't either," he chuckles, he shakes his head at the offer of tomatoes pushing his own plate away. "My stomach isn't quite right yet." He glances up at the martian and shakes his head, "Still, it'll be comforting just knowing you're out there... somewhere." "Well, at the latest, I'll see you in a month and a half once Mischa's kittens are old enough." Lydia says thoughtfully. "You really don't mind a cat on the ship? I can get one for you too, you know. So you don't get lonely." She teases gently, eyes sparkling. Ryan shakes his head in the negative with a slight smile, "I'd get distracted again." He glances towards the door, half expecting... "Mr Weyr having a cat will be distracting enough, but at least it'll be his responsability. If I had your cat on board and it was mine, I'd do something silly like trying to save the damned thing when I needed to be saving my own skin. I know me too well." His own eyes share the sense of mischief, "It's up to you to make sure I don't get too lonely too often I'm afraid." "I shall do my best." She promises, reaching a hand across the table for his. "Though I do tend to be a bit neglectful, I'll do my damndest. I'm apologising in advance if I sometimes get a bit...distracted. I just need to be reminded from time to time." I'll see. Only one of my security guards is even slightly active right now." The man chortles, "You're talking to me... I'll probably have to set my computer to remind me on a weekly basis I'm seeing someone." He sighs, "I'll get distracted, not forget, but just be focussed on whatever the hell I'm doing, the one day WHAM! Oh yeah, I really love that girl. And I look around to find you've run off with some personal trainer called Kyle." Martine immediately blushes, ducking her head as she tries to compose herself. She coughs, then after a moment says, "Don't worry about that. I'm the one who's gotten left for someone else twice in a row, I'm not in any hurry to do it to anyone else. Just one more reason to get a PA, I suppose. Someone to remind me of things. You know, eating, sleeping, getting ahold of you." Ryan glances at the PDA, "Sure you can live with that?" "Positive. For now. Besides, it gives me a reason to actually take a vacation some time, which will have the positive effect of my crew leaving me the hell alone about overworking." She says wryly, then reaches for the PDA and closes it, raising his hand to her lips for a brief kiss. "There's no point in worrying overmuch about our situation. We're going to be cautious, right?" "I haven't stayed alive this long without being one paranoid bastard," says Ryan. "A trait of mine that'll kick in again any minute now." He smiles wryly at the PDA, "You should be proud you know... at least your boyfriend's the most wanted man in the Orion Arm." He finishes off the coffee, "I must admit it has me worried, with that price, more than a few are going to be tempted. I took a risk today with the crew of the Jackal, but I knew Mika and hoped some old loyalty to their Captain's old friend would holdover for me." "I'll be much prouder once that bounty is gone." She retorts in amusement. "And if you look at the bounties, there's a few pretty big ones on that Mika character's head as well. If they are loyal to her, I don't see why they'd turn -you- in." She pauses, glancing down at her plate. "I'm finished, are you?" "I'll sleep easier," he nods. "You realise it's probably the Fleeters who're the third party." The Fleeters, never the Vanguard. Not even now. He nods down at his plate and coffee, "I'm done. I suppose you've got a million things to do before you leave." A small pause, "So I'd better let you go and do them." "Not by half, I was hoping we could spend some time together before I go. Maybe get a game of pool in. I'm still not allowed to work for a while yet, you know, and I have a feeling Bailey already has everything finished so there's nothing for me to do anyway." She smiles wryly, slipping her PDA into a pocket. "But if you have things to do, I understand." He takes out his wallet, a beaten leather affair and fishes out a few Raydens, "A game of pool? It's time to take the gloves off this time." He chuckles mischieviously. Lydia pays for her own, then gets to her feet, stretching slowly. "I'm sure you'll defeat me quite easily, but if you can take pity on the poor little girl, let her at least sink a shot or two, hmm?" She grins and winks, then offers him an arm. Jeff Ryan sighs when he realises what she's done and just pays for his own too, "I'll try, but everything's fair in Love and Pool." Smiling he takes the arm and heads out the Tavern. Games Room - NLG Masquerade - Half of this room is taken up by arcade games of all sorts, viewing visors for the virtual reality ones, shooting games, racing games, all the latest and most popular. The corner is taken up by a large booth for one of the most advanced ones, an adventure VR that seems to draw a lot of attention. The other half holds the more traditional games, two pool tables in a corner along with a rack of cues and the other necessary accessories. The last table seems to be set up to play cards, a few decks emblazoned with the ship's domino mask design set in the middle, along with dice, chips, and various other counters. A few comfortable chairs are scattered around the room for spectators, with six of them set up around the card table, the upholstery matching the dark green carpet and walls, which are patterned in a lighter green. The lighting is usually kept low, the wall sconces casting a golden glow that matches that of the game screens. Sun Mar 12 14:10:03 3006 Contents: Exits: Out Jeff Ryan arrives from Lower Hallway . Jeff Ryan has arrived. "You know, if Mr. Weyr's all alone, maybe you should invite him." Lydia muses, dropping his arm and heading for the rack of cues. "Unless you wanted it to be just the two of us, in which case I understand." She selects her usual cue, and waits for him to do the same. "Who breaks?" "Myself and Mr Weyr have some things to discuss next time we meet up," offers Ryan selecting the cue he did last time. "Nothing as serious as the man believes, but still probably best if we did it alone." He glances at Martine, "Take your pick, age before beauty or ladies before gentlemen?" "Ah." Lydia says, and nods. "Well, how about since you -lost- last time, you break." She says, going to take the frame off of the pre-racked balls. There might be a little smirk there, but she hides it quickly. "Besides, how old are you? Can't be that much older than me." "Thirty-two," says Ryan nodding and setting up his shot, a few trial angles, testing the white ball off the cushion. "I don't know how I'd really look now," he admits. "When I came back on Sivad I had a new face. One of the reasons I was able to stay out of the limelight until I decided I wanted to clear my name." He takes the shot, it's an average break, the balls seperate, but he doesn't pot anything. "I hate to tell you, darling, but I just turned thirty two on the first. So we're even." She grins, then shakes her head. "Everyone forgot my birthday, even me. Pretty sad, isn't it?" She lines up her cue, and manages to easily sink a solid, a clean, easy shot. Ryan watches the ball go into the pocket in alarm, he glances at the woman, before twirling the cue in his hands expertedly, dangerously, "You know I could kill you with this." The thing whirls above his head, then back down into his hands, he sighs, "Still your ball." "You whack me in the head with that thing, I'll kick you." Lydia replies warningly, then grins and lines up another shot, an easy one again. She knocks her second ball into a pocket, but the cue ball teeters on the edge and thunks in along with it. "Aw, no fair." Ryan grins at Lydia, it fades when the ball goes in. And it's right back up there when the white follows through, "Nice." He glances at the table, retrieving the white ball and lining it up with a spot. "And now, watch and be amazed." He eyes a few other balls off to the side as well, cockiness getting the better of him despite his recent disasters. The white hits the spot bang on target and it's pocketed quickly. He hasn't put enough spin on it though to get it quite where he wants it, but he's still in the right ballpark. So to speak. "Marvellous, darling." Lydia says approvingly, offering one of those polite little claps known as a 'golf clap'. She moves over and plants a little kiss on his cheek, distractingly. "So who's getting hustled this time?" The man can't help but grin at the clap, however feigned it might be. He starts a little at the kiss and throughs her one of his awkward smiles, he's a little distracted as he lines up the shot. "We'll see," he chuckles, not entirely convinced. He strikes the cue ball with a solid whack. His target goes in, the white bounces off the cushion, narrowly missing the black, a second balls goes in another rebound, and he hits a third ball. It approaches the pocket, but doesn't make it into the pocket. "Ack! See, I am the one being hustled!" Lydia laughs, shaking her head. "That's what I get for being cocky, hmm?" She sighs and leans back, waiting for him to take another shot. "Next time I'll slap you on the ass instead, maybe that'll make you miss." Ryan doesn't seem to realise he has another shot for a moment as he stands up, he grins and leans over and pecks her on the forehead, "Probably." He waits for a small moment before realising he's still on the field. "Sorry," he sighs glancing at that oh-so-close, third ball, he lines it up again, keeping an eye on where he wants the cue ball to go afterwards. He hits the ball with the cue and it goes in. The angle isn't right though on the rebound and Jeff finds himself snookered. He lines up a rebound to try and get at a free stripe, the cue ball hits off the table's edge, past the solids, but misses the stripe, grinding to a halt just beyond it. "Mmh, too bad. You're still like three ahead of me, though." Lydia says comfortingly, wrapping her arm around his waist for a quick squeeze before she goes to make her own shot. She very carefully lines it up, then shoots. Rather than hitting the ball she's aiming at, her hand slips, and the cue ball goes over the side and lands...on the floor. She blinks, then leans over and looks under the table. "...oops." Jeff Ryan returns the quick squeeze and follows her progress, after the ball drops to the floor he offers her commiserations, "Probably still suffering from the hangover." It's easy to be genial when you're three balls up. He walks over and picks up the errant ball. He places it on the table, his options are restricted to one stripe if he can get the angle just right it'll head into the centre-right pocket. Strike. He hits the target ball dead on, and it heads into the pocket. The white rebounds off, finding itself sitting snugly behind the black and the table-edge. Jeff frowns and shakes his head. He makes the attempt, but it'd be tricky even for a good player, the black spins away, sitting dangerously close to that pocket. "Very gallant of you to excuse me." Lydia says with a small chuckle. Any shots she might make would knock that black right into the pocket along with her target ball, so she simply shoots the cue ball away from danger, knocking a stripe against the wall, but not too close to the nearby pocket. "So, you're probably heading out tonight?" Ryan nods at that, "Probably to the Freehold." He glances at the table, in his favour but definitely trickier, anything he'd want to try potting would require a trick shot. So he tries. Checking the angles with his cue, he chalks it, "It gives me somewhere to catch my breath, think things through, I'll have to come back here though, I need to discuss my future here with the Governor. With the G'ahnlo playing hard-ball it's not looking so rosey as it did a week ago." He hits the cue ball that just batters around the table. Ryan sighs. "Darling, don't get yourself down." Lydia says soothingly, setting up and knocking in an easy shot. Unluckily, the cue ball follows. "There's no point worrying. I told you, they'll make their announcements, and we'll work from there. There's no point getting yourself all stressed over something before you have all the information, all right?" The man shakes his head with a grin, retrieving the cue ball again and lining up. Steering clear of the black ball, "I'm not used to reacting. Never have been, back in the resistance if you react, you're dead. You act, make them react to you. It's a hard habit to break and not one I'm sure I want to." Strike. Another one bites the dust. Jeff lines up his next shot, "I'm from a line of soldiers, and scientists. A good combination, but it means I tend to think a certain way. Reacting isn't it." Strike. This time he just manages to hit a stripe instead of that spot hovering nearby. Although she carefully sets up her shot, the cue ball only nicks the solid as it goes past, hitting the corner of the pocket and bouncing off. "Mmh, I am off today. Ah well. And I know you don't like reacting, but trust me on this. They're businesspeople, just like me. That's how we work. You have to understand their position." The lunite grumbles about that, not entirely good-naturedly, "Politics and business, too things I'm terrible at." This last one is tricky with all them solids on the table, double-bank shot, right angle, into the pocket. No problem. He hits the cue ball. Straight into a solid. That sets up an easy shot for Lydia, and she neatly knocks that solid into the pocket. Her next one doesn't go quite so well, however, but it still doesn't make your last ball a clear shot. "I know you don't like it, but that's how it works. Don't worry, it'll all turn out all right, I just know it." She gives an encouraging smile. Ryan nods, "I'm still alive against the odds." He glances at the ball, only a single-bank shot this time, 40 degree angle, right spin. He nods. "And I don't think it's so I'll end up in some Fleeter cell for the rest of my life." Strike. Off the edge, into the stripe, into the pocket. Into the pocket. He frowns a little, but realises he's on the black finally. "And I plan to keep you that way." Lydia assures with a small smile. She eyes the table for a minute, then retrieves the cue ball and knocks in one of her four remaining balls in a simple shot. There it goes. She grins, then eyes one down the opposite side, a fairly easy one. She hits it too hard, however, and the cue ball follows. Ryan watches bemusedly as the white ball follows, "We need more practice I think. That didn't happen so often back in the Pool Hall." Cue ball. Black ball. Aligned. Damned SOLID! Sighing he looks for a bank shot that might work, spotting one he checks the angles with his cue. He leans over the table, he stands up, chalks the thing again, leans over again. Lines it up. Strike. The ball hits the bank, flys on target true. It spins off at the correct angle. The black is on course to pocket. AND IT'S IN! anditsbackoutagain. The black remains near the pocket, close, but no cigar. "I think we just need to play when we're not hung over, though my headache is mostly gone. You know, I might be able to slip away for a day this weekend, we're not having a party until the next week." Lydia says musingly. She lines up her shot away from that eight ball, not wanting to lose on a mistake. She eyes one of her last two balls all the way across the table, and in a very neat shot, pockets it with a solid thunk. She grins, shifting around to that side of the table. "One left. Are you scared?" She teases, then easily knocks her last one in. All that's left is that eight ball. There's nothing in the way now, and she's just across from it, where you left it so convienently near the pocket. Click. There it goes. Jeff follows the progress of Lydia's last-minute barrage with growing dismay. When suggesting the time off at the weekend the lunite nods, "Probably better if we can manage that than my hovering round New Paris a couple of times this week." He glances at that eight ball, he grimaces, "I'm being hustled again aren't I?" "Darling, now now. You'd know if I was hustling you." She says mischevously. "I won again! What are the odds..." She trails off, then smiles. "Well, how about I run up to Centauri late on Friday, and leave late Saturday. Then at least we can have a little time. I don't promise not to bring work with me, though." Ryan glances at her suspiciously for a second, well the mouth is drawn into that suspicious line, the eyes are twinkling with amusement, "Yeah... what are the odds." Settling the cue aside he strides over to the woman, standing close, "You know... last night, I don't know how much you remember, but I made a promise." His hands are on her shoulder, light. For now. "You did, and I do." She says, with a small smile, head tilted as she gazes up at him. "At least, I think I recall something..." She trails off, then chuckles and slips her arms around him, resting against his lower back. Jeff Ryan chuckles slightly, now that he knows what he's feeling is definitely reciprocal, all that shy-awkwardness is gone (a shame really), "I think it was something like this." Drawing her up close and bending down, he finds her nose with his own, using it to draw her mouth to his own and... Lydia returns the chuckle with a smile of her own, though it's quickly cut off as he lowers his lips to hers. She returns the kiss softly, certainly more accurately than the night before, lacking the alcohol induced haphazardness. Jeff Ryan leans into it, lacking some practice perhaps, but he's picking it up again fast. He strokes her back softly as he does so. Creighton steps into the games room, sees Jeff and Martine locked in passionate embrace, and covers a smile. Moving with impressive quiet, he sets a datacard labeled 'Revenue Reports' on a nearby table and walks toward the door. Martine slowly, regretfully breaks the kiss, and smiles up with a small sigh. "Thank you. I probably shouldn't keep you, though...the longer you stay, the more dangerous it's going to get. No matter how much I want you to stay. I'll see you soon, anyway, right?" She pulls back in, this time for a hug, her head resting against his chest. "I should get going," a last little squeeze. He pecks her on the forehead, "Until next week then." He doesn't want to let go, but he does, taking a step back, he gives the Captain a small bow. A slight smile, and a definitely more than fond expression is Lydia's last glimpse as he turns on his heel and towards the door. The man doesn't look back, he never does.
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