Hans raises an eyebrow at the inebriated 'Reggie' spouting tales about his many experiences with substance abuse. He shakes his head, then quickly snaps back and shouts:
'Sag mal, partner, have you ever tried Gauloises? Perrfekt zigaretten from Gallia. This place should have some..'
'Bartender, hor zu, do you people stash the good french stuff? It's on the bleeding route ja?'
"What, we want from this deal, is a little goodwill. Nothing more, no money, no goods, goodwill, fairly cheap wouldn't you say? Now, which of the pilots would you be interested in?"
[22:29:00 | Edited 22:29:52] Corey (Gheis): Just because I'm an admin doesn't mean I can't appreciate an attractive woman.
Reggie looked inside the ratty and void cup, then over to Hans briefly, mummering, "What the. . .kind of accent is that?" He quickly looked away, not quite wanting the question answered. He grinned when a girl-- the girl came over to order a beer, and turned his head towards her when she asked him the question. He sheepishly smiled, and locked in on her eyes, "No, girl, I was talkin' to my cup. Figured it'd be a good way to start warmin' up my motor mouth fer' someone like you, y'know? Tell me, girly, y'ever get stuck in space 'er shot off onto a planet? Real bad stuff, real bad, but really it's good fer' ye'; makes ye' a better person, stronger, y'know? Anyway, what can this ol' mercenary do fer' ye', maybe pay up fer' that drink of yer's?"
He spat into his cup, and the cup itself let an audible, reverberating twang. He played with the cup a little, but kept looking into Emma's eyes, making sure she knew she had his attention in a possibly eery fashion.
Emma raised an eyebrow and discarded what was left of her cigarette into an ash tray. She took the beer the bartender brought her before replying.
"You must not have a lot of friends if you talk to a cup like its your best friend." She replied. "And yes, I have gotten stuck in space before, and yes it does suck, and no I don't think its bloody good for anyone."
Reggie grinned when she mentioned that he mustn't of had a lot of friends, but he kept to himself, letting her finish her sentance. He moved the cup around as to swoosh the spit inside of it in a circular motion, biting on his lower lip for a moment when she didn't agree. He thought for a moment, before speaking, "Well, girl. . .This old mercenary has upset quite a bit uh' cats, y'know? First, th' Outcasts, then the Corsairs, then th' Junkers. . .I think that'd be all of 'em, maybe. How long y'be stuck in space? A few months? I remember, maybe a little less than half a year-- an' even longer, stuck on a planet, a few years. Y'know, I used ta' talk like you, all nice, and then after I crashed on th' planet and stayed there I wasn't talkin' fer a while 'cuz no one was aroun', so when I finally got me off that planet I realized I couldn't rightly speak, y'know? But thas' jus' me, girly. Whatta' 'bout you now?"
"People don't ask about me often." She replied. "Most of the time they're either hitting on me, offering me a job, or some combination of the two." She sighed. "Longest I've been stuck in a pod was two weeks so I guess I can't complain. And as for upsetting people..." She winked. "Comes with the territory."
Reggie laughed, looking away for just a moment, then spat in his cup before looking back at her, "Yeah, I worked m'way into it. Real bad, too, reckon I have a knack fer' it. It's not like I ever wanted t'upset anyone, I jus' came across bad luck, is all. When I done some things people din' like, I wasn't really aware 'er anythin', it was just somethin' I did at the time jus' because. Like, fer' the Outcasts, I was gettin' real friendly with them. Got me'self a girl with'em, really got into helpin' out smugglin', but when they got me smugglin' it t'was a whole other story, y'see? They packed tha' cardamine in there a ton, an' somethin' just really made me want to try it, an' in the heat of th' moment I jettisoned it all so I could save m'self. Who would know tha'd make them so upset? I went to go hit the hay at some Freeport, and next day Outcasts sent some assassins, feckin' dumb luck I 'ad me blaster under m'pillow, else they woulda' got me fer' sure. So, I dragged m'girl with me an' we stole th' assassins ship-- 'cuz I reckoned they rigged mine with 'splosives-- hit space. Unfortunately fer' me, they didn't like 'ow I killed ther' friend so I 'ad to deal with a whole lot of them in space. So, since ther' was so much of 'em, I couldn't quite handle it in a ship I've never been used to 'fore; wer' damn lucky tha' it didn't 'splode on us, 'cuz it didn't even 'ave a pod, instead we jus' crash landed on th' nearest planet."
He spat again into his glass and looked down into it, a bit disheartened. He then proceeded with his story, not allowing the girl next to him to speak until he was done; "Girly didn't make it, bless 'er soul, but I crawled from tha' wreckage. Ye', I remember tha' planet real well. . .An' then, y'see, as I was travelin' 'cross the land I came to this encampment full 'uh Outcasts. They were doin' a routine run with'er terror tactics'y'know, slashin' across 'uh hostages mouth to ears an' also where they cut ther' throat vertically an' pull the tongue out, down towards th' sternum? So, I blasted my through ther' an picked up whoever was alive, wish' was some Bretonian explorer, old fellow. 'E gave me a lift t'the nearest Freeport, an' actually wanted me t'work for some House corporation 'er somethin', but I figured it'd be safer if'n I go work fer' the Corsairs'An' thas' how I pissed th' Outcasts off, lass. Whattay'sayin' about territory now, though, if y'don't mind me pryin'?'