Ashley turns towards the gentleman next to her, but as she reaches for his proffered hand the barmaid heads over distracting her as the woman asks what she would like, "Yes I'm from Erie... oh, hold on umm... Kusari tea please", she says bashfully hoping they serve it here.
As the woman prepares the drink she asks in a thick Kusari accent, "What kind of Kusari dress is that? All my dressed full length kimonos or kabuki."
"Oh, um... its sort of... well you know how lots of Kusari got stuck in Bretonia when Gallia invaded? Well some of the families on Stokes were um... driven off by B.M.M. without being given transportation which was really unethical of them." "No surprise there", she mutters before continuing, "They kinda had to travel to the nearest inhabitable planet of Leeds as refugees in barely space-worthy shuttles. Some of them have now opened up shops and buisinesses in the area, and I picked this up from the mall. They have proper Kusari outfits, but they also do some of these um... I guess you could call them 'party dresses'. They're popular with the Bretonian youth right now, and I thought this one was really pretty. I liked the material and patterns and I think the colours go well with my flight suit."
While she was talking with Midori, his Grace Skarsi had walked over and spoken to the man whom Ashley had completely forgotten about when the conversation turned to dresses, "Now Harold, you are scaring her a bit. Ashley is a pilot for the IMG." He points at the IMG insignia on Ashley's suit neck. "Miss Ashley...." Skarsi makes the sign of Eris. "How have you been?. It has been a while since we met in Baffin."
Ashley snaps out of her fashion talk and bashfully returns another small bow tongue-tied as his Grace turns back to the man next to her, "Miss Ashley and myself met by chance when I was patrolling Baffin before the whole scuffle in 74. Ashley was passing through, and quizzed me about the TAZ."
After his Grace orders more drinks for his table he says, "Your attire is very aesthetically pleasing, Miss Ashley."
He turns to the man sitting next to her and chuckles saying, "Harold, close your mouth. Its not polite to stare, and your fish impression could be better."
The man seems annoyed at the insinuation and replies to his Grace, "Just offering my greetings, that's all, my Discordian friend. I may be leader of the Raiders but that doesn't mean I plan on beddin' every pretty young woman I lay eyes on. And I was more mouth-agape at you for putting yourself in between me and my one-sided handshake."
Seeing the man's expression, and being a somewhat pacifistic and open minded person she tries to defuse the tense atmosphere. Ashley works up the nerve to reply to the pope, "Oh um.. thank you, your Grace. Rin took me shopping when we came here to have a vacation at Mr. Garcia's place just over a week ago."
She wrings her hand nervously, "I've been mostly very well, your Grace. I have just got out of hospital though. I don't really remember clearly, but I'm told I was hit by a Corsair battleship's main gun at point blank range. I had to um... have surgery. I have a really, really big appreciation for doctors now as a result, and refugees from before so um.. I popped on down here with four thousand tons of pharmaceuticals as I had to come here anyway to verify a credit transfer to um..."
Ashley taps on her wrist bracelet and a hologram pops up of a recent bank transfer, "A doctor Doreen Nagger of Canaria Medical Center that I made when I was here on holiday a little over a week ago. Funds went out this evening."
Turning to the man next to her she offers her hand to shake without hesitation, despite his 'job', "My name is Ashley Valent. I'm a miner... um, well obviously."
She blushes at the silliness of her statement given the man already knows her employer. She winces very, very slightly at the grip of the man's handshake, and Ashley once more laments being born on a low gravity world, as everyone seems so much more resilient and stronger than her. Working up her nerve she jokingly adds with a cheeky grin, "Any chance I can avoid making a donation when I leave for once, tomorrow?"
The tensions seems to drain from the atmosphere, and his Grace offers the man a drink in the typical way men seem to defuse and apologise in these situations. She takes a sip of her tea and its a good sixty seconds before the words 'pretty young woman' sink in.
Harold smiled. "I've never asked for 'donations' before, miss Valent, and I certainly don't intend on starting tomorrow. If there's a situation I can help you out with regarding people who do ask for 'donations', feel free to let me know and I will gladly do what I can to help you out, alright?"
He smiled again and thought to himself, damn, Harold, don't get yourself into what happened last time...
With a chuckle, Harold says reassuringly, "Don't worry. It's a long story, the name. As long as you're not supporting Rheinland I won't ask for a, ehem, 'donation'..." He winks smarmily, much to his own dismay, and smiles.
He takes a swig of his drink, coughs at the bitter aftertaste, and clears his throat. "Sorry. Anyways, how did you end up all the way out here in the middle of the rear end of space? We're quite far away from IMG operations here."
"Oh! Not so much as you'd think. We have a division in Manchester that works with a small deposit of beryllium, and we have um... a cease-fire with Mollys just one wormhole over in Dublin if we need gold from the independent field", Ashley replies. "I've only been working with I.M.G.'s mining division for a month or so, so I haven't been given a specific system to work out of. I fly all over the place. From Tau-39 to Dublin, to Omega-7 and back up to Honshu."
Taking a sip of tea she adds, "I came here on holiday about a week ago and left a donation for relief efforts before I left and I was mining in Dublin when the bank sent me the authorisation request for the withdrawal so I picked up some pharmaceuticals and popped down for the biometric confirmation in person."
She glances over at the Corsairs and adds, "I'd um... do it more often, but it a little risky for me to come this far south. Omega seven is bad enough."
By the looks of it he might be in the midst of his twenties, he is slim and of average size.
He is wearing a leather coat which goes down to his knees, his legs are also covered by a pair of smooth brown leather trousers.
He made his brown hair into a long braid which reaches the mid of his back.
His face expresses a friendly smile which even reaches his gray-blue eyes.
As he is asked by the guards to hand over all weapons, he hands over a pair of heavy pistols and lifts his arms to show that he doesnt carry anymore.
After he got checked for remaining weapons he asks about El Comisario Ladron.
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By the end of it's first day of business, all patrons were gone, the doors locked and the staff began cleaning up. Midori had left to tend to her children back home under escort of a warrior guard. Doc counted up the day's profits with his staff.
"We did very well," he commented.
"Yes but those Corsair leaders make it very uneasy," replied one of the staff.
"Agreed," nodded Doc, "they are why everyone is so tense. That Ladron thinks he's quite special."
"I would have sent him out," commented another.
"And if I did that, his people tighten their vice on the people even more," Doc explained to him. His face smirked, "karma will be his enemy."
"All set, Doc?" asked the senior body guard, a muscular, no-nonsense type of man ready to escort him home.
Doc then input all the credits into the company neural net, secured it and took his escort home as he secured the establishment.
He would return the next early afternoon to re-open for business as usual.
El Comisario arived to White Buffalo a bit earlier, just to be sure all is ok. He passed security check as usual. Wine is in the cellar, chilly sausages are in kitchen. Cook is arranging some Jamon And Cheese on a platter.
He checks his new tie and suite. Than looks toward the kitchen again.
Smells mucho good. I hope all be there.
El Comisario looks through a window, seeing people walking the street, smiling, doing their usual stuff.
2485 meters! That is the distance from where Marius is from White Buffalo Saloon. And he is seen El Comissario at the window, by the scope of his precision sniper rifle. A adrenaline rush runs by Marius's vains!* - Damn is too perfect! * He thinks! He started to make calculations ... distance ... wind speed .. rotation of the projectile ... temperature ... barometric pressure ... humidity ... planet rotation!! He must do this perfect! He only have one chance! But there is a problem! The window glass! How strong is the window glass?! That will make the diference of life and death.
He aims ... controls breathing ... steady ... steady .. he shoots!
The projectile goes perfect cutting the air ... perfect ... Marius can see the vapor trails like ... like it was in slow motion ... until it hits the glass!! The glass!! Marius some how knew it that the glass could change everything ... and did! When hit the glass, the projectile changed direction, hits the arm of a waiter and ends on the chest of a corsair guard, making him drop dead. Panic is all around the bar*
- Marius - Damn!!! It was too perfect to be true!!!
* He takes his rifle, and leaves the area. With the promisse that next time, he will not miss*
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