Thread: [ME-Privateer] In The Black (Ursus Peregrinus & Atroxa)

Tahlyn Varro Kurrlok Bronn The Turian rubbed his frills and chuckled in spite of himself. I wouldn't say his cooking is bad, exactly. Tahlyn admitted. But Bronn has an experimental attitude to ingredients. You know that little voice that says things like 'do not attempt to eat an entire thresher maw' or 'Volus are not edible'? Bronn doesn't have that voice. Tahlyn looked around the cockpit and touched a couple of controls, firing up the computer systems that were usually locked down in port. He watched, a little possessively, as Artemis began to warm up the control surfaces and check the displays. The Trident's are a good little ship, no surprise they don't want them in private hands... and they're not much use for long trips anyways. Do me a favour and be careful mentioning wanting one around my engineer? He might just take you at your word and give you a list of names. Running his hand over the console as she powered it back down, Tahlyn nodded. The engine and maneuvering systems are stock, but tuned a little better than standard. The defensive systems are... better. So are the sensors and EW systems. We don't talk about where we got those, but Bronn knows some interesting people. Those violet eyes twinkled and Tahlyn nodded as she slipped from the pilot's couch and headed for the cargo bay. The Turian seemed lost in thought. The cargo bay was not rigged up as a kitchen. Not really. It seemed to have been rebuilt into a combination of living quarters, workshop and recreation area. One wall was hung with racks of weapons, shelves and bins filled with parts and a very sophisticated looking toolbench and diagnostic array. A bulky Salarian nanolathe sat in one corner, and probably cost more than the black market consoles up in the cockpit. The other walls were covered in posters and several large paintings of landscapes. One was definitely Tuchanka, a large mural of broken city and barren hills, but the others were smaller and from three or four different worlds. The postered were a mix of movies, music and weapons advertisements, a good many of them Elanus Risk Control products. Crates and cargo modules provided most of the furniture, though there was a hammock slung in one corner and a couple of krogan-sized chairs by the workbench. The far corner was where Bronn was currently, chopping vegetables with a large knife while humming to himself beside what looked like a homemade stovetop. A frying pan beside him was sizzling and the smells of sauteeing onions and alien spices were filling the air. Hey, Bronn noticed her entering his domain without even looking up. Don't mind the mess. Oh, and if anything's blinking, don't touch it. I put a shaped charge down somewhere a few days ago and haven't seen it since. He waved at her absent-mindedly with the big ceramic blade, then went back to chopping. Omelets okay? It was that or smoked Nathak ribs, and those are kind of an acquired taste. The Krogan finally turned and looked at her, setting down the cleaver and opening a cargo module that apparently was doing duty as a refrigerator or cooler. Varro not giving you trouble, is he? He's not the friendliest Turian you'll ever meet, but he's good in a scrape. Just takes him a while to relax after a brawl. Bronn chuckled and pulled out a bottle of vodka, poured them both tumblers and plopped in a couple of ice cubes. Here, painkiller for you. tag