Claes thought about that, thinking of her own personal needs, thinking about her dire want for post pregnancy related equipment, but there was no way she would admit that to this person whom she only just met.
Shaking her head Claes believed everything else was in order, "we're all good for everythng else." Claes nodded confirming that to herself before giving Carol a questioning look "Is there something else you think we need?"
"No, just being thorough. If you ever need anything else, anything at all, feel free to contact me personally." She reaches into a pocket and pulls out a pen and paper, then writes her comm code on it. "You should be able to reach me there any time. Now if there isn't anything else we need to discuss, I'm sure you want to get back to your ship.
Claes looked at the piece of paper and rested her hand upon it before frowning a little, "...And what of the escort deal, you didnt really explain how your boss wanted that to actually work, that was why i came all the way here. whats the pay, how often do you run the gauntlet? what route do you take.. A little more clarity on this matter would be great." She said in a confused manner, wondering why she had tried to end the conversation so quickly.
"Right sorry, sometimes I forget people don't know what I'm thinking." She laughs quickly, then leans back a bit. "Basically any time your people see one of our ships around and feel like escorting it, they can expect ten percent of the money from the sale of any goods as long as it reaches port. Does that sound agreeable?"
"hm.. doesnt sound any more stable than the way it currently works, in terms of percentages how much are we talking here" Claes asked bekoning over a waiter, "I'll have another firebrand amico, grazie" she said briefly to the man that approached and bowed away.
"If its anything like the last one, with what, 8 ships to watch over..." she said leaving the sentence unfinished and sitting back.
"No, no. We rarely concentrate our numbers like that, usually we don't have more than two or three ships in a group." She looks puzzled for a moment. "I thought I was pretty clear about the payment, your ship or ships get ten percent of the money made from any goods we sell. You may also receive bonuses from the pilots of the ships if your people do a good job, but I can't control that, obviously."
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"Welcome back, Doctor," greeted the loadmaster as Doc stepped out through the docking port, "it has been awhile since you were last here."
"It has been that," he answered shaking the Junker's hand, "is ol' Finnegan still about the place?"
"Sadly, no," replied the loadmaster, "no one has seen or heard of him in some time." He then smiled, "but the bar is as lively as ever so if you're looking to make some credits gambling, there are plenty of clientele to wager against."
"Very well," snickered Doc, "But I just need a bite to eat and a drink."
The loadmaster peaked his head into Doc's cargo hold. "Um....is all of that aluminum for us?"
Doc just nodded.
"It'll take me awhile to unload it so please, do enjoy yourself."
With that, Doc went to the bar for food and drink.
A steel boot landed on the metallic floor. The sound of metal on metal echoed throughout the area, as if to notify the presence of something great. The long, shadowy, black trench coat clung to the figure, as if it was almost a loose second skin. Dark grey trousers extended out of the coat, placing a metallic boot forward before bringing the rest of the figure out of the door.
As he walked down the steel staircase, a fellow Marauder greeted him on his descent. "Greetings, Grand Marauder" said the Marauder. The Grand Marauder turned his hooded head towards the Marauder "Greetings, brother" he said, in a slow, dry yet deep and commanding voice that sounded like it had been scorched by fumes released from scrapping equipment. The shining neon goggles illuminated through the black void of the hood. If not for the balaclava, someone would assume the GM let out a smile.
He proceeded towards the bar, receiving many respectful greetings and acknowledgement of his presence.
Once he finally made his way to the bar, he spied the famed Doc Holiday. Slowly, the GM made his way towards the Doctor. "Hello there, Doctor" said GM, the words snaking their way through the way and towards the Doctor.
Captain Bianchi noted the doctors entrance to the bar though didnt pay it any notice, and then the grand marauder, of course not ever having seen this person, she again dint think anything of it, and stood at the doorway with the other marine, waiting for Claes to finish up her business
"Ahh si si!.. I misheard you amica.. my appologies eh? Ten percent should be fine however now the only problem is as it would have been to begin with" She said with a disappointed sigh. The waiter returned to the table and was stopped by the marines.
Claes waved them off and beckoned the waiter forwards, the marines stood at ease and faced away again as the man placed her drink on the table. "Grazie" she offered with a grin turning back to Carol. "And that is communication.. no?" Claes smirked, scooping up her drink and taking a gulp "Gaaah..." she gasped joyously as the beverage enflamed her throat.
"We have no way of contacting your people efficiently, or visa versa, so we will never have a decent chance at actually catching yourself or your people in space." she said spinning the cup slowly, "This is a problem no?"
"Well, you have my number, but I assume you mean something more public? Did you have anything specific in mind? Carol looks at the bartender and makes a drinking motion, nodding once when he pointed at the bottle of gin behind the bar. "I'm open to suggestions, if you have any." Carol nods at the Grand Marauder as he sits down, flashing him a friendly smile.