2009-02-04 - To Mysterious Strangers

Coruscant: Core of the 'Public Cantina
The heavy brown reek that fills this area of City does not make exception for this ramshackle building, adding to the clouds of smoke from the Cantina's patrons. In fact, the smoke adds a scent to repulsive smell that makes this little hovel a far more bearable place to be than the open walkways without.
The walls of this grimy den seem to have been fused together from the battered wreckage of starship hulls and durasteel plating from old building foundations. Light is provided from a confused assortment of many-colored lamps hanging from the ceiling by power cables. Every so often these flicker in unison, momentarily increasing the oppressive gloom of the place.
Along one wall three old plasteel desks have been converted into bar tops doubling as a dancing runway. A bored and sullen bartender sits behind these desks half-asleep and wholly uninterested in the antics of the Cantina's dancers. Across the floor several round tables have been placed, and in the corners several booths lie hidden in shadows. A small portion of the Cantina has been curtained off with some filthy tattered cloth, behind which an old Sabacc table stands ready for gamblers.
Despite the atmosphere of the place its patrons are remarkably varied. Rich-looking off-worlders (often with breathing masks) mingle with local scum, discussing who knows what in the shadows of this despicable establishment.
NO POLICE: This place is a haven for criminals and seldom manned by IC Police. See '+help no-police' for details.
[Back Door] 
[Gloomy Doorway] 
----
Angelus
Most people look nothing like what they are. Most policemen look nothing like the bluff, stubbled face of the Law; most merchants look nothing like the raised, subtle face on a gleaming credit coin; most spacers look nothing like the proud-eyed conquerors of the stars from the 'reels. And then someone comes along who looks the part--someone like Angelus Caeli. Even if he did not wear rank insignia on his shoulders, everything about him would say, Officer.
He is tall, built exceedingly trim but on imposing lines, with broad shoulders, long, clean, powerful limbs, a high arched neck like a horse's, and a face whose proud, aristocratic lines are at once lofty, arrogant, and strikingly handsome. He wears his platinum hair halfway to shoulder length, in a style considered archaic but respectable, and is never seen on-duty without his crisp cap, or off-duty without his long-brimmed black hat, which comes to a rakish crown and a steep brim. On his chest, a rank insignia declares him to be the Marshal in the Republic Guard.
STATUS: Angelus is a male Human in excellent condition. He is unarmed and wears a Republic Guard Armor.
Cirshi
Standing 1.6 meters, the woman is wire thin, her body is a line of long limbs like a newborn colt, fragile and delicate as china, promising to break if bumped too hard and stared upon too long. Large, wide yellow eyes peer out from behind the overhang of pink bangs that contrasts against the muted, baby blue pigment of her skin. Pink hair is pulled back in a half-hearted attempt at pig tails, which is to say that there is only one on the left side of her head, pink hair at the right side hanging lose to her shoulder, except for a few pink tufts sticking out at an odd angle, trapped in the last loose coils of her hair band. Her skin is smooth, two thin yellow lines (whether tattoos or a natural coloration is hard to say) creating a simple rainbow effect along both cheekbones. The thin line of a scar crosses her forehead starting over her left temple before ending just shy of the middle of her right eyebrow, though it doesn't appear recent. Her expression is one of cheerful distraction, lips pursed in a faint smile.
A thin, scooped neck shirt, in alternating bands of light green and yellow is visible under the sleeveless grey-blue vest, dominated by grease stains and scorch marks, leaving blue skinned arms bare. Equally grease-stained and scorched grey-blue canvas pants hug her legs, a number of metal tool clips and bulging pouches sport a hint of used tools and cast-off wires based on the remnants visible. A heavy, worn tool belt rests askew on her hips, a pair of heavy and well worn boots on her feet, the heel adding a good inch to her height. Fingerless black gloves cover her palms, rugged grips visible on the palms when she gestures with longer fingered hands, though a second pair of full gloves hangs at the back of her tool belt.
STATUS: Cirshi is a female Human in excellent condition. She is unarmed and wears a Flak Vest.
James Loro
174 cm tall, 72kg mass, short red hair with a few streaks of silver, grey eyes wearing a dark blue shirt, tan trousers, and a dark grey greatcoat with a pair of black leather gloves covering his hands. The coat is open.
STATUS: James Loro is a male Human in excellent condition. He is unarmed and wears a Modified Light Police Armor.
Cienna Diak
A fairly short girl with short black hair and blue eyes. She has a pale complexion, almost unhealthily so, with dark circles under her eyes, rather like she's not used to sleeping well. There is something vaguely haunted about her expression, which is not helped by the fact that she wears black lipstick and dark eyeliner. She is also the sort of skinny that makes her look somewhat unhealthy and out of shape.
She wears a black silk dress with short, tattered sleeves over a pair of black fishnet leggings and a pair of black leather combat boots. Her forearms are covered to the elbow in black arm warmers.
STATUS: Cienna Diak is a female Human in excellent condition. She is unarmed and wears no obvious armor.
Ginovae
The girl is about 5'8", her build long, slender, a hint of lean muscle to her frame, but still almost too slender, yet the hourglass curve of her body is undeniable. She is dressed in worn black canvas pants almost of a military style with angled hem lines and a multitude of pockets, a black ribbed a-line tank top, and a short black leather jacket that ends mid-rib cage, and a comfortable pair of charcoal grey combat style boots that come to mid-calf. Fingerless gloves of leather and mesh, a single silver necklace that disappears beneath her tank top, and a silver stud on the left side of her nose, a silver ring on the right side of her bottom lip; these complete her attire. 
Her hair is a myriad of darkness, at one angle brown, another blue, another black, even purple, the dull, matte version of a raven's feather; the strands fall straight and loose around her ending around mid-back. The features of her face seemed soft; the smooth forehead, the gentle arch of eyebrows, the soft curve of cheeks and slightly rounded chin, the full lips, replete with the slight pout to the lower lip, the slender sweep of the crooked bridge of her nose to the quiet flare of nostrils and the slightly rounded tip, the gentle hollow beneath... And yet, there was something sharp about the overall combination. Perhaps it was the fact that the line of jaw, cheek and brow, were clearly visible in the slender face, or perhaps it is the deep set eyes of steel blue, too cold, too old for her face, shadowed in dark black and silver shadow above, a thin line of kohl beneath, the lashes lengthened, accentuated with mascara.
Gionarro
He stands at just around 5'9", his lines long and lean, his frame toned and trim. His hair, when visible, is short, a dark brown hue that is cropped close to his scalp, just a little longer on top than the sides and back. The features of his face are smooth, his forehead rounded and long, intersected with thick arched brows, sloping cheeks, and slightly elongated jaw ending in a strong chin. A slender nose cuts between the deepset eyes of steel blue, slight shadows cast beneath them. Thin, but soft lips finish his features, accented with a thin line of stubble along his jaw and lips and chin. 
His features are currently shadowed beneath the hood of his jacket, a moderately thick fabric lined with bold white stripes at regular intervals, the interior lined with solid white. Mostly unzipped, a black button up high collar dress shirt is revealed beneath, though it too is left mostly unbuttoned to reveal the smooth, toned chest and abdomen. Coarse denim jeans fit loosely around his hips, cinched into place with a military style belt, the wide legs of the jeans randomly flaring or bunching around his long legs, mostly covering the worn boots of dark brown leather. 
Thick, but small silver hoops nestle his earlobes, and his right hand bears a simple silver band on the ring finger, and a wide ring of silver in a v-design rests on his index finger, glittering with a set of five clear gems embedded into the metal.
----
Gionarro wanders into the dingy establishment, taking a breath of the smoky air as he looks around. Pulling out a pack of cigs, he taps one out and shrugs a noncommittal, 'Good a place as any' to his sister as he glances for an abandoned booth to claim.
The day had been a long one, a cramped and more than a little bumpy ride on the freighter that the trio had gotten cheap passage on finally having come to a close earlier on that afternoon, depositing the trio onto Coruscant. Having found a place to stash their belongings, however few and far between, it was only logical that the next place they would search for would be some place that was comfortable, to stretch their legs and settle in, at least for the twins. Ginovae stepped in beside Gionarro, a finger slipping through the loose strands of dark hair to tuck one section of them behind an ear as she studies the bar, a glint of mild interest rising at the sight of the Sabacc table, before she points to a table in the back that seemed both abandoned, and mostly stable.
Cirshi trails along after the twins, lips upturned into a happy, excitable smile that is as far from being in place as it could be, yellow eyes noting the sights around her. As the door shuts behind her she grins, eyeing the seedy bar through the haze of smoke. She almost runs into the twin in front of her, barely noticing them coming to a halt as the searched for a table, her own eyes drawn to the varied patrons. She manages a quick smile to the back of the twins whether they notice her faux paux or not, then settles in for another long glance around the cantina, and once again missing their moving off for a table until long after their gone, forcing herself to skip after them, "I, um... where?"
Gionarro stops walking and takes a drag, looking back to the effervescent Cirshi and dipping his head toward the departing form of his sister. Waiting for the girls to make their way to the booth, his steel blue eyes watch the other patrons, looking for those showing any interest in the trio, and itemizing what types of interest they garner. "Vae's pick." He says aloud.
"As it should be, right Cirshi?" Ginovae says, with a smirk, an amused glance cast behind her towards the pale blue skinned girl, a wink flung her way once she has the mechanic's attention rather than the... colorful occupants of the musty bar. "So, what are the chances that this place has any of the good Corellian whiskey?" She asks, as long and easy strides carry her to the table she had been eyeing, one booted foot nudging the support bar beneath before she folds herself into the booth, sliding into the corner seat.
Cirshi smiles, giving a nod of her head as she catches up to the twins, "Oh, um, yes, of course." She glances off as she walks, a bit of old electrical equipment hanging from the belt of a Rodian at a nearby table catching her eye. "Ooh, a T7, I didn't even think they made those scanners anymore..." She blinks as she walks into the table Ginovae chose and glances between the two, clearing her throat as if she meant to do that, eyes averting. "Good whiskey? What're the chances we can /afford/ good Corellian whisky," she asks, wondering if she's going to have to buy the first round. Again.
Gionarro chuckles as he reads Cirshi's monologue, sitting down at his sister's left hand and giving her knee an affectionate squeeze. "Long as it's not recycled, I don't care much what we get to drink. The last sip I had tasted like it had been strained through a Rodian's socks." He drowns the memory and his taste buds in another drag on his cig, glancing around the dive for those who might have more cred than sense.
"Well, I will say that it's making me wish for our own ship again more and more, if only so that we actually -know- what's in the water." Ginovae says, the tip of her nose wrinkling at Gionarro's painfully accurate description, a sympathetic shudder tugging at her at the recollection. Fingers reach, plucking the cigarette from her brother's lips, and bringing it to her own, a steady and long breath stealing a long drag from it before it is offered back. She settles in, one leg curling beneath her on the bench of the booth to rest against Gion's, the other drawn up, the foot resting on the edge of the bench, the front of her leg nestling against the edge of the table. Her other hand delves to her waist, a small pouch of credits tugged from the inside of her jacket and pushed across towards Cirshi. "Don't worry, Blue." She says, with another grin. "First one's on me, this time, if you'll do the honors."
Angelus enters the Cantina through the gloomy doorway.
The door pushes open, and a tall, trim figure pushes into the smoke and steam and stench of the reeking cantina. Though dressed in a simple black duster and wearing nose filters, he is clearly out of place here; he stands too straight, moves with too much confidence in his stride, walks like he owns the planet. He approaches the bar the long way round, passing a few booths guttering smoke, stepping around a plastic bar top with its very own slatternly dancer, and ending up at the bar. He crooks a finger to the bartender and the two share muttered words.
Cirshi frowns as she takes a seat at the table with the twins she entered with, adjusting her tool belt as she sits. "How do you /always/ do /that/? I didn't say anything? You have an invisible probe droid hooking into my brain?" Her smile returns quickly as she speaks, seemingly incapable of frowning for anything longer than two seconds. Sitting back, she pulls out a piece of broken equipment, something plainly obvious by the burn marks in the display face, wires sticking out of the new hole in the exterior. "Look at this, someone just tossed this on the street, can you believe it..." She peers closely at it, even sniffs at it once. "Just cause its burnt, the main board is shot, the power unit looks like its leaked acid into the primary array..." She sighs at the mention of a ship, apparently enough of an attractive thought to pull her away from the useless device. "When /are/ we going to look into a ship? I know we’ve only bee here a bit, but, you know..." She shrugs, the opening door catching her attention, drawing yellow eyes to the new arrival.
Gionarro tosses a smile across the table to the blue skinned Cirshi at her accusation and query. "If we had a cloaked probe droid interfacing with your brain, I'm sure we would've had to sell it for passage here. Although, our accommodations on the way might be explained by us hoarding one just to keep reading your mind with." Another drag is taken on the dwindling length of his cig, his eyes taking in the movements of the newcomer as the circuitous route to the bar is taken. He nods once more to the tech, "Yes, I know, I sleep better with the hum of the engines filling my dreams too. We just need to get our feet planted and take a look around. Much as you'd relish a fixer upper, I don't think we can just count on someone throwing out a freighter just because it was slightly scorched and the repulsorlift fried."
Ginovae's lips curl into a smirk at Cirshi's words, though the expression fades into a wry sigh as her brother responds. "It's magic, Cirshi. If we told you how we did it... it'd take all the fun out of it." She says, her words drifting with the blue-purple smoke of the cigarette temporarily stolen from Gionarro. Her fingers curling around the small pouch of credits as she eyes the bar, a study of the tall figure that exchanges pleasantries of one form or another with the bartender, her thumb tap-tapping idly against the worn leather, but she refrains from rising to order drinks just yet, content in her position nestled in one of the shadowed corner booths. "Yes..." She says, her steel blue eyes turning to her two companions. "A ship requires funds. Or a friend. I might be good at making friends, but, it usually takes me more than a half hour or so, last count." She says, with a chuckle.
Pleasantries, if pleasantries they are, don't last long. The tall stranger's well-formed lower lip curls with contempt, and the last few words he murmurs are decidedly cool. There is an audible edge in his voice; that, too, doesn't last. Whatever he said, the barkeep grunts, shuffles away, and returns with a dirty bottle. Angelus takes it with a sardonic smile and retreats from the bar, moving to a broken table, where he sits.
His pale eyelashes half-close; his dark eyes silently scan the smoke and shadows, gleaming.
Cirshi's eyes are drawn back to the lone male at the table, lips tugging, "So, you're saying that maybe my thoughts might be worth having to suffer recycled water and twice filtered algae liquor? Aww, that's sweet!" And yes, she seems utterly sincere in her words, her tone softening as her head tilts slightly, her gaze moving to Ginovae. "Isn't that sweet?" Brow furrowing at the intent gaze of Ginovae, she turns her head, peering through the hazy smoke towards what seems to be passing as a conversation at the bar between the new arrival at the owner. "Huh... maybe he had a bad drink, or wishes to discuss the lack of fans to circulate the air..." Or maybe he's a cop and she's, well, being herself as usual. Turning back at Gionarro's goading, she smiles, "Well... it could happen. Maybe. Or, or, uhm we could find a ship or two abandoned for fixing up in the asteroid belt near Ho--" Her face pales as she almost mentions the icy planet she spent far too much time on. The tell-tale taste of Tauntaun flooding her senses in an unpleasant flashback. Swallow, she glances down, poking a finger into the broken device, "Never mind..."
Gionarro says, "We'd need a ship to go and salvage them too, and pressure suits. I'm afraid that we're ground bound for a bit, but don't worry Cirshi, we'll get by. It's not the first time we've had to live below our desires, though it would be nice if it was the last." He glances to his twin, offering the remainder of the cig to her. "Just need to find someone interested in the doodad, 'sall."
The blonde stranger seated with his own cloudy, dusty bottle uncorks it with a flick of his wrist. He makes no pretense of keeping his eyes to himself and the business of the moment, letting the smoke provide some element of concealment. His eyes settle on the trio, and his lip quirks up at one corner. His lashes lower a little further as he pours wine into a small, dirty cup. "Pink hair," he muses. "Could it be the light? Guess not."
Ginovae's laughter likely carries, airy and amused, at Cirshi's comment, her cool eyes settling on Gionarro, studying him for a moment, before her fingers not wrapped around the small pouch reach to pluck the cigarette from him. "Yes, that's my brother for you. Sweet, to a fault." She says, almost sounding entirely sincere, before she leans back against the booth, the cig pinched and brought to her lips for a long drag. The mention of Hoth draws another half-hidden smirk, a slight shake of her head, which then tilts up to watch the cloud of her expelled smoke to drift and mingle with the noxious cloud already present. "Well, this is the planet where it all happens, right? Least wise I hope it is." She adds, shifting her weight forward again to lean across and plunk the bag of credits directly in front of the blue-skinned girl, interrupting the field of vision the mechanic had latched onto the burnt out and cracked ... thing. "Would you, please?" She asks, with a smile. "Something resembling whiskey for me."
Cirshi smiles at Ginovae's laughter, seeming to take the sincerity at face value. Her gaze flicks to Gionarro as the other woman engages in her smoking habit. "Oh," she starts, tone light, cheerful to a fault, "I'm not worried. Like Ginovae said, this is the center of the galaxy, or something close to it anyways. Stuff happens here every day, and we're a team and I'm sure it'll all work out in the end, right?" She glances back down at the broken equipment, removing another electrical object from her took belt, attaching a wire from the working item to the other. With a flick of her fingers the 'broken' device flashes a couple of lights, a faint hum issuing from it as it comes to life. Her face brightens with glee, "Hey there little gu--Ahh!" The hum changes to a buzz a second before sparks flash from the hole followed by her own puff of smoke to add to Ginovae's, killing the instrument. "Oh... Darn." She pushes a few button uselessly before the other woman gets her attention. "Huh? Oh, whiskey... right..." She eyes the broken device then stands up with a sigh, "Three whiskey like things, coming up." Cirshi crosses the bar, pouch tightly in hand, sucking on the thumb of her free hand where it was scorched. She flashes a bright cheerful at the staring Angelus, before coming to a stop as she hears him mumbling about her hair. Cheerfully she takes a step forward and smiles, "Yep, pink." She fingers her hair to show the stranger nursing his dirty glass.
The stranger rises, tilting his head to one side and inspecting Cirshi with those cool, half-lidded black eyes, peering through a haze of white lashes. His nostrils flare around the nose-filters he is wearing to fend off the stench. "Naturally pink, I suppose?" he says, moving as if to follow Cirshi bar ward.
Gionarro watches as the Pantoran departs in search of whiskey, and cheerily inserts herself into the stranger's evening. Shaking his head with a chuckle, he snags another cig from his jacket and lights it up, taking a deep drag to muffle the industrial tang that seeps into the cantina. "Pretty sure this isn't the place to look for a sale, at least tonight, 'Vae. Might be some cred to be made at the Sabacc table, but that's more your style than mine."
Ginovae leans forward again, relaxed and comfortable in the cracked and worn both, one leg tucked beneath her, the other drawn up half to her chest and resting against the edge of the table, the cig crushed to an ignonimous demise in the hollowed out ash tray in the center of the table. "That thought had definitely crossed my mind." She says, her head craning to peer around the ragged cloth that divides the main section of the bar and the Sabacc table. "Though it looks like pretty slim pickings at the moment." She voices her displeasure with a sigh that follows her words, fingertips running idly around the edge of the metal rim of the ashtray. Her gaze travels across the room, after viewing the lone occupant at the Sabacc table, to focus upon Cirshi and the dark jacket clad figure, watching the exchange between them openly.
Cirshi laughs and nods, "Very natural." She moves along with her new friend towards the bar, chattering away happily as if she's known him for ages. "I guess a lot of us don't get around much. Pantorans I mean. Small moon, lots of ice, so nobody visits us much, so not surprising you haven't seen many of us." She extends her free hand, oblivious to the fact she had just sucked on one of her fingers, leaving it a bit damp, "I'm Cirshi, by the way. Oh, hey, do you want a drink, or are you still working on your other glass?" She glances over her shoulder at the table Angelus had just been sitting at. "You know," she murmurs, her bow furrowing, "I'm not certain that glass is really all that clean..."
"This glass is filthy," Angelus says blandly, putting it down on the bar top. He holds up the bottle, smiling a faint, knife's edge smile full of white teeth. "But this bottle is full of some very decent Corellian whiskey. Don't let the dust on the outside fool you; don't be fooled by external appearances. Golden liquor is found within."
He offers a black-gloved hand. If taken, it is somewhat colder to the touch than might be expected.
"I am Angelus Caeli."
"She'd try to make friends in the middle of a firefight between Trandoshan Slavers and Angry Wookies, and I half expect she's succeed, least til she wandered off toward a new shiny." Gion comments softly, his own gaze watching the barkeep as the pair returns to the bar.
Ginovae's attention can't help but be drawn again towards the blue-skinned girl and the pale-haired man at the mention of the C word attached so closely to the word whiskey, an almost lusty stare given briefly to the bottle he holds, before another sigh slips from her and she turns her gaze to her brother. "The question then, would be, would one of those new found friends risk their neck to pull her out of the crossfire, wouldn't it?" Ginovae replies, quietly, with another small shake of her head, though her lips rest in a slight smile.
Cirshi's smile brightens, defying common preconceptions of anyone who doesn't know her, eyes lighting up as she takes Angelus' hand, giving it a shake. "Its a pleasure, Mr. Caeli. I'm Cirshi Chuyschi, but I already told you that, didn't I?" She blushes, rolling her eyes, "I swear, sometimes my wires get crossed. You know, you're the first person I've met since coming to Coruscant, well other than Mr. Yoeshi at the dockyards when we landed. Oh and there was, uhm, one second, oh, I'm going to kick myself, um," She snaps her fingers, " T'erun! Yes, Officer T'erun! God I'd have felt horrible if I forgot him. He was a nice enough man, though he didn't talk much, mostly he just stared all squinty-eyed at our papers." She mimics the look, eyes squinting briefly as she chatters away, "You know, come to think of it, I think he was like that because he was tired after staring at so many papers, maybe he just needs a day off, go to a park, catch a vid..." The jostled bottle of liquor distracts her, yellow eyes drawn to the bottle, "Corellian whiskey? Excellent, I was just getting up to get some for my friends!" She peers across the bar, "I wonder if they have any more..."
Angelus laughs, perhaps injecting a little extra pep into his laughter in order not to be totally outshone by the pink-haired individual's high-octane manner. "I'm sure they don't," he says smoothly, "but there's plenty left in this bottle. I'll trade you three-quarters of the bottle for a clean glass and a chair and some new faces to stare at. Officer T'erun isn't the only person who's had a long day." He gestures toward her table with the bottle. "Introduce me to your pretty friends."
Gionarro leans back in the booth, a long stretch of his arms presenting the cig to 'Vae for her own attentions. He shrugs his shoulders as he settles down again, looking over to the blue skinned girl and the promise of something other than rotgut to cross his lips.
Cirshi remains half-draped over the bar as she peers back across her shoulder at Angelus, the pout at the news of the scarce stock long since faded at the offer of exchange. "Really?" She pushes off the bar and grins up at her new best friend, "That's be great, an excellent trade!" She glances towards the table and the twins ensconced in the darkness there, her smile a bright beacon in the hazy bar, waving in the direction and pointing at the bottle in Angelus' hand. She turns back and reaches out to hook her arm through Angelus', intent on walking him back to the table she had been sitting at a moment ago. "I'm sure they'll love this, drinks and company in a strange world, what's not to love, right? You'll love them, they're so awesome, I've known them like, forever!" Apparently in her mind the short duration she's been with the twins has been enough for enduring, life-long friendship.
Angelus allows his arm to be taken. Smiling in a detached way that shows his teeth, he follows Cirshi back toward the table. His bottle rises a touch ostentatiously, catching the light and gleaming with amber liquid--his passport.
Ginovae's fingers snag the proffered cigarette, and again this cigarette is pinched slightly before it is tucked into the corner of her lips. One long leg straightens, and then the other, as booted feet find floor and she draws herself out of the corner of the booth as Cirshi and Angelus approach, a faint smile offered to the two as she reaches out to snag the pouch of coins from the blue-skinned girl. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get glasses." She says, her voice smooth, steady. Fingers tug the cigarette from her lips to rest between second and third digit, as she turns on a heel to cross the room to the bar, a few coins dropped onto the counter as she requests the clean glasses, waiting rather patiently for the bartender to see to the task of removing oily smudges from the glasses previous users.
"Welcome to our humble gathering, friend. I am Gionarro Rucine-Dyzavo, and my tumbler minded sister is Ginovae. I can see that you've already made Cirshi's acquaintance, which nicely rounds out our side of introductions. I hope that you've come to share company and libation, as both will be welcome." he says, smiling warmly to Angelus.
Cirshi smiles as she arrives, chattering about things she saw on the way to the table with Angelus, none of it of any real value, unless one likes to have the city described in full, unglossed over detail, smells included. She starts to wave with her free hand when Ginovae stands and snags the pouch from her grip, her smile wilting slightly, letting go of Angelus' arm as she snaps her fingers. "Glasses! Darn, I knew there was something, I knew it, darn it. I swear if my head lacked a suitable restrain harness I'd lose it..." She flashes Ginovae’s retreating form an apologetic smile, "I, um... OK. Sorry, Gino..." She sighs and turns back to the table, head turning as she glances from Angelus to Gionarro and back again, by which time her characteristic wide smile has returned. "OH! Gionarro, this is Angelus, Angelus, Gionarro. And that was Ginovae who went for the glasses." She smiles at Gionarro, "Angelus has offered to share the bottle with us in exchange for a seat. Very nice, huh?"
Angelus pauses at the edge of the table, inclining his head as he draws up a seat and leans over it during Gionarro's brief introductory speech. He laughs a little as Cirshi recaps it and identifies him, then sets the bottle of Corellian whiskey down with a soft-but-noticeable -clank- on the tabletop. "Angelus Caeli," he confirms, nodding to Cirshi and Gionarro. "Always on the lookout for interesting people." His lip twitches at the corner, as if at some passing thought. "And well-equipped with a libation. Let's get one thing straight, though, a ground rule right off the bat ..." His voice drops into a drawl; his gloved fingers tap the neck of the bottle. "I'll pour it out four equal ways. Everyone has to finish at the same time--that's the custom where I come from."
It takes another moment of mild argument, and another few coins dropped onto the counter before the four glasses meet with Ginovae's approval, the absconded cigarette slipped into the corner of her lips once again. The pouch is retrieved, folded over itself and wrapped shut before it disappears beneath her thin black leather jacket, before her hands wrap around the base of the glasses, two to each hand, and she makes her way back towards the table. A side step around Angelus, the glasses set in a half circle around the bottle, the cigarette retrieved and offered to her brother, her head tilts to the side to expel the smoke to the side and not directly into Angelus' face before she turns to face him more openly. A smile is offered, as her hand is extended to him, steel blue eyes meeting his openly, curiously. "I'm sure one of the two has already done the honors, but... Ginovae, though... my friends call me Vae, most times." She adds, with a softer smile that brings the hint of pearly whites into view, however briefly.
Gionarro nods at the ground rule, a faint smirk of understanding gracing his face. "Learning new customs is a hobby of mine, and honoring your own is certainly a fair trade for the company." He reaches out, snagging the cigarette from his sister's lips once more and offering an apologetic smile. "This is more of a personal custom. Doesn't seem nearly as bad when you never smoke more than half of one, and 'Vae is always looking out for my wellbeing."
Cirshi withdraws her hand as Angelus begins to pour, obviously intent, and used to, doing the honors. She takes a seat beside Angelus as she reaches out and retrieves the broken device on the table top, waving a hand over the faint wisp of smoke still rising from the busted device with an apologetic smile. She shifts in her seat, adjusting her belt before as sits with her hands folded on the table as she waits for her glass, smiling back and forth from each person. "See, pretty cool, huh?"
Angelus accepts the hand Ginovae offers with his rather cold right hand, and then returns his attention to the glasses in their half-circle. With surgical precision, he pours, filling all four glasses in four quick motions. He sets the bottle back down. "Gionarro and Ginovae. Sounds almost Vanixian," he remarks with a shrug. "I'll remember them, but I can't promise I won't call you something else instead." Scooping up one of the glasses left-handed, he lifts it, nodding to Cirshi, Ginovae, and Gionarro in turn. "Here's to mysterious strangers."
"We've also been known to answer to 'hey, you', 'you guys', and 'the twins' on occasion, so really, no need to keep yourself awake at night fretting about it." Ginovae says, her voice colored with dry amusement, her grip steady but brief, before she releases his hand and crosses to settle into the outside of the booth, leaving Gionarro now in the middle. "And yes, that is rather the job of the big sister, isn't it?" She asks, glancing to Gionarro at his last words, a brief smile gracing her lips, which only widens as she watches Cirshi. "So it is." She replies, before she is leaning forward to wrap her fingers around the glass closest, pulling it to her and then up, slightly tilted. "To mysterious strangers, and good whiskey." She repeats, and tacks on her own slight addition to the toast.
Gionarro picks up his glass and lifts it to the toast, "and fortuitous meetings with the same." A slight pause, waiting for the signal to begin drinking as he replies, "I'm unsure where our parents chose the names from, given how much they traveled before the birth, that may be where they picked them from. And you're only big by a twentieth of an hour, Vae." He smirks at his twin, one of their many quirks now explained somewhat by the order of their birth.
Cirshi grins, glancing back and forth at the banter, her gaze not lingering for very long, absorbing the moment in its lightness, not to mention the anticipation of something that doesn't taste like Rodian socks soaked in rancid water for a week. Vae's reply to her catches her attention, her smile widening just a bit more as she looks at her before turning away as glasses are raised. She lifts it, sniffing the alcohol for a moment with a smile before raising her in toast. "New friends, hear hear!" And then she knocks the drink back and down her throat in a single swallow. This is of course soon followed by frantic, energetic coughing, hands dropping to the table as she pales a bit, eyes watering.
Angelus tosses his glass back without hesitation. /Clack!/ He snaps it back down onto the tabletop, shaking his head sharply. "Everyone has to keep up," he interjects quickly in a warning voice.
Gionarro's eyes widen as Cirshi throws caution to the wind, his glass raised, tipped and drained in a smooth motion, almost as if he's expected her to do precisely that. He does manage a bit more decorum than she as he places his empty glass back on the table, the delightful burning of the whiskey searing the memory of recycled moonshine from his thoughts.
The slight shift in posture, the raising of a shoulder, the bend of an elbow, these actions on Cirshi's part is just enough warning to draw Vae's attention more fully onto the girl, her own glass raised up in the same motion, the glass tilted up, her head flung back, to let the whiskey flood through her lips, over tongue, and down her throat to flare to life as it settles in the pit of her stomach. Even as the hand with the glass lowers, her head remains tilted back, her lashes drifting closed, a soft and pleasured sigh slipping past pale red lips as the heat works its way through her body.
Cirshi's mostly empty stomach is aflame as the whiskey hits it, her throat already warm as the liquid burned a path down. She continues to cough a bit longer, blinking rapidly at her watery eyes, nodding her head as Angelus mentions that everyone had to keep up, slipping the empty glass forward for a refill. Her voice is hoarse as she splutters, "I'm fine, wrong pipe is all," her smile wide and apologetic, her body language putting her claim of the 'wrong pipe' in doubt for anyone with a decent amount of sense in reading people. She meets Gion's, wide-eyed gaze before glancing to Vae with another smile before turning to Angelus, waiting for the next drink. "Smooth," she whispers hoarsely. "Very."
Angelus's hand shoots out and pours again an instant later, part-filling each glass in rapid succession. "So your parents were wanderers," he says, nodding to the twins; his head turns to Cirshi. "And it seems yours was a droid?" He nods at the still-smoldering device sitting in front of her. "A memento mori? Tell me your story. I have no doubt it's an exciting one, since I was eavesdropping for a bit there."
Ginovae's eyes remained closed for a long moment still as she savors the lingering taste and the warmth of the whiskey, though they raise -- albeit, almost reluctantly -- as Angelus' voice cuts across the table, her head drawn upright, her sparkling steel blue eyes coming to rest upon him once more. "Nectar of the gods, I'm telling you." She says, to the table at large, though Cirshi's attempt at a suave recovery does garnish a half-concealed grin, and a quiet chuckle. Her fingers rest on the refilled glass, though she does not yet raise it to her lips, content to simply turn the glass slowly, watching the swirl of golden-amber liquid out of her peripheral as she watches Angelus and Cirshi, her weight shifting as again one leg curls beneath her, resting against Gionarro as the other is drawn up half towards her chest, her calf brushing against the table. A quiet negotiation, as the leather is shrugged off of first one shoulder and arm, and then the other, the jacket let to fall to nestle behind her waist, as she remains quiet for the time being, simply watching, listening as the slow flush of heat drifts over her cheeks.
Gionarro smiles lightly, his gaze growing distant as he speaks, "I often think that they only stayed ground bound long as they did to give us a chance to grow up thinking of one place as home. Of course, now Home is where we are, not where we're from. Things change, and family are those who share the recycled air with you. I will beg your pardon if my questions exceed courtesy, but you don't strike me as a man to normally come down here, Angelus." His steel blue eyes wash over the bottle and up the man's arm, his long fingers wrapped around his own glass in preparation for the next draught.
"Oh, you're wrong," Angelus says softly, not missing a beat. "I come down here a lot." He says it softly, lifting his own glass, his smile faint and somewhat faraway, the tiniest crinkle of his beautiful mouth. "Hunting," he adds flippantly.
Cirshi coughs one more time, eyes fixed on her glass as it is refilled, the conversation washing over her, turning as she feels Vae's eyes on her, looking at the other woman, the smile coming after a second too long, turning away to Angelus as she clears her throat. "Huh," she asks, her cheeks flushing as the alcohol seeps into her system, "Memento what?" She looks honestly perplexed by the question, looking at Angelus before she follows his gaze to the smoldering device. Her face brightens as she begins to understand, "Oh, this?" She giggles, shaking her head, hair flutter back and forth with the movement, "Oh goodness no, I just found this in the trash as we walked here. I was just poking at it." Her lips purse as she peers intently at the device, an eyebrow arching as her eyes narrow, "You know, I think this thing really is broken..." She glances up, shrugging with a smile, before taking her newly filled glass and downing it a bit ahead of everyone else, precipitating another coughing fit.
Ginovae's fingers wrap around her glass, drawing it up and the contents downed as Cirshi takes her second drink, though she does not take as much time to savor the whiskey afterwards, her attention drawn instead to the curious figure at the end of their table. "Oh?" She asks, her voice warming as the heat of the drink drifts through her, brightening her cool gaze and darkening her tan features slightly. The emptied glass is set again upon the table as she leans forward, one arm hooking around the up drawn knee, her eyes lingering on Angelus. "Hunting... what, exactly?" She questions, her head tilting to the side a bit, sending the raven-hued strands to slip forward, partially shadowing her face as she waits for his reply.
Gionarro is ready for Cirshi's pace this time, finishing his drink in time with hers, the lesser amount in the glass more amiably handled than the first unexpected chug. His glass clicks down at nearly the same time as Ginovae's, his eyes slipping between his sister's face and that of their mysterious benefactor of alcohol. He lifts his cigarette to tap the ash into the central tray, then take a drag while questions are answered and glasses refilled.
Cirshi sputters and coughs, blinking her eyes rapidly, trying to clear her watery vision. She gestures from Vae to angelus and back again a few times until she can catch her breath. "Hunt-hunting? Hunting what?" She coughs, clearing her throat, sliding her empty glass towards the bottle again. "Oh, oh my, are you a rat catcher?" She clears her throat, smiling curiously, a hint of that look in her eyes as the alcohol seeps into her system, warming her limbs.
Angelus is prepared this time, more than prepared, and chases Cirshi's sudden gulp down with a swift sip of his own. Setting his cup back down on the table, and then toying with it so that the dim light gleams through the edges of the cut glass, he takes the bottle and swirls it experimentally in the other hand. "Yes," he says blandly, his nostrils flaring again. "I am a rat catcher." But his lip curls an instant later, forming a mocking smile just as his long lashes hide his eyes again. "Down here, just at present, I hunt drinks, actually."
"Then... I suppose it is a good thing that we are not rats, yes?" Ginovae says, easily, smoothly, another low chuckle drifting from her as she watches him, curiosity and amusement mingling, drifting onto the outer edges of her expression. "So, Angelus -- may I call you Angelus? -- I am curious, as to where this tradition has come from." She says, a single finger tapping on the side of her glass for clarification. "And to the reasons behind it, as well." She says, her other hand crossing over to steal the cig from Gionarro without really looking, pulling it to her lips for a quick draw, the smoke rolled around the recess of her mouth before it is released in a slow, lingering stream of purple-grey.
It is fortunate that he's only smoking, as Gionarro sputters and coughs when Cirshi calls Angelus a rat catcher. He turns and spews smoke for a moment into the corner before gathering himself and turning back to the table. "Thanks Blue, I didn't know that I could take that down the wrong pipe. Shoulda paid more attention to physiology apparently. My apologies, but better to waste breath than such fine whiskey as this."
Angelus flashes his teeth, turning the glass in his left hand and swirling the whiskey in the bottle with his right. "It's a Kessel tradition," he says, a hint of soft rasp creeping into his voice. "I'm guessing the origin of the tradition was self-preservation. Everybody drinks at once? It wasn't poisoned. Nobody lingers? You don't have to worry about someone putting a blaster under the table while you're busy coughing on your whiskey." His dark eyes rest on Gionarro for a moment, glittering. They move slowly to Ginovae, watching her languid way of smoking. "My reasons, though? I am a bit of a traditionalist."
Cirshi's brow furrows in confusion as Angelus' tone changes, lips parting to ask something when Gionarro coughs a plume of smoke as wide as the one form the broken object in her hands earlier. She blinks, head tilting slightly as she stares at the twin without a stitch of comprehension as to what he's talking about. And then it hits her, how her words might have been taken as something different than an honest to goodness question on her part. Blue skin changing in color, she turns to look at Angelus with wide horrified eyes. She stammers, stumbling over her words, "I-I, oh, I, um, God, I'm sorry, I didn't-I mean, I did but, not-not like that I mean... What else would you hunt down here? But, um, yes, drinks, right..." She sighs, smiling apologetically before turning to Vae for support.
Ginovae's gaze lingers on Angelus still, a slow nod given as her initial response to his explanation. "Nothing in that logic I can argue with, I suppose." She says, another slow drag taken before the cig is offered back to Gionarro. "Kessel, you said?" She asks, though it is more a statement than actual inquiry. "Never had the pleasure, for more reasons than one." She adds, fingers running through the dark strands of almost waist length hair, the smooth locks scraped back behind her for the time being. "Can't say as I'd quantify myself much as a traditionalist either... and certainly not a hunter of any sort. I suppose that leaves us with the option of nothing in common, or the default of opposites attract." She says, with a lingering smile, an easy laugh following her words, as her gaze finally pulls away from their guest, and turns to Cirshi. "Don't worry, Blue, I don't think he's the type to be easily insulted." She says, with a smile that is offered solely to the mechanic.
Gionarro cocks his brow at the mention of Kessel, "I can see the wisdom in the tradition, and Cirshi's helpful example makes it all the more compelling. Thank you for sharing your custom with us, Angelus." He accepts the cigarette back, taking a slow drag before letting it rest atop his hand on the table. "I've heard some fairly wild stories about the astrogation in that area. Course, I leave the heavy math to the ladies, but still, the Maw sounds impressive even to a novice like myself."
"I wouldn't know, I'm a lousy pilot." Angelus shrugs a little. "I shook the dust of Kessel off me a long time ago. Good riddance, too. Last place God made."
His eyes dart back to Ginovae--maybe they only left for a moment. "You're right, I'm not sensitive," Angelus agrees blandly, lifting his head slightly. His dark eyes once more hide behind a haze of long white lashes. "But I'd say we have more in common than you realize." If it bothers him to be shuttling between conversations, he doesn't show it. "When I came to Coruscant at fourteen, I had five credits in my pocket. I got by selling refurbished junk on the holonets--among other things. If I'm not much mistaken, you're down to one pouch of credits shared three ways ... probably another cache hidden on one of you--probably you, Twin One." He nods to Ginovae, a mocking glitter entering his eye. "If that's the case, you have a lot in common with me fourteen years ago."
Cirshi's expression relaxes, her shoulders lower as she eases into the back of her seat with an audible, "Phew," under her breath, meeting the warm smile from her companion with one of her own, if perhaps a bit lopsided and lingering. Turning away, she sits back, watching the banter with little to add, her eyes frequently moving to the bottle of Corellian whiskey sitting there, taunting with the still visible amber fluid within it's thin glass walls. Calling her name. She purses her lips, nodding along with the cadence of Angelus' explanation of things, occasionally repeating one of his words under her breath, though without rhyme or reason. Shifting in her seat again, she reaches down to adjust her tool belt, retrieving another broken handheld device, perhaps a vidviewer when it had a screen that was intact and no wires sticking out of the shell that draw her fingers like moths to flame. She mutters under her breath, a faint hint of the alcohol in her empty stomach apparent, "Fourteen years ago... I was so tiny..."
Ginovae's lips curl up again into a sardonic smile, briefly, at the title given by Angelus, though it softens into a more congenial expression a half a moment after it had begun, as she lets herself settle back against the booth. The arm that had curled around her bent leg now shifts to dangle half over the raised knee, fingertips trailing along the rim of her glass, the softest hum drifting from the tumbler before her fingers still, and the sound quickly fades to nothing, lost in the humdrum of the bar. "Should I take that as a compliment, I wonder." She muses aloud, as her gaze travels the lines of Angelus' face, and frame. Another slight shift in her position, her back straightening, her chin drawn up as her eyes slip up to his half-veiled ones. "Is this the part where you offer to help us, if we help you?" She questions, the inquiry curious but offered in a light-handed manner.
Angelus arches an eyebrow. "If you help me?" he says, his expression turning wry. "I don't know if you can. I was going to offer to point you in the right direction out of generalized sympathy for my past self, but if you're very proud and don't take charity I'm sure there is something I need."
Gionarro stays quiet, though his eyes drift across the room slowly. It isn't hard to notice that Twin Two is the guardian, while Twin One is the brains. Seeing no one taking an overt interest in the conversation, his attention returns to the older man, and the conversation at hand. "There's certainly no harm in offering help, whether we can pull off something you'd deem helpful or not. I would hope that you can forgive our suspicions, but where we've been, no one did anything out of sympathy, there was always a catch. I'm open to believing you, just not what we've come to expect." The conversation takes place in one of the back booths, the group currently mulling over empty glasses and a nearing empty bottle.
James Loro enters the Cantina through the gloomy doorway.
Angelus pours out four final glasses and chuckles. "I'm sure I can't blame you, though I doubt very much if you are from anywhere rougher than Kessel. Still, sympathy is a vanity I am now wealthy enough to afford to indulge now and then. How about you keep your eyes open for a few people? Let me know if you happen to spot them?"
James Loro enters the cantina and looks around before heading for the bar and ordering an Abrax.
Cirshi shakes her head as she sits, fixated with the broken vid-viewer in her lap, more wires having been tugged out now, a bewildering rainbow array twirled about her fingers as she weaves them together, attaching them to another instrument that appears workable. All the while she mumbles under her breath, "Never bad to be helped... nope, helping is good... yep, darn catches, sneaky little things, like invisible probe droids and their mind readings... hmm, red to blue or green?" She reaches up, scratching her head, eyes lifting to see the drink. "You need something? We can help, right?" She glances at her friends at the table, smiling brightly, eyes holding the distinct hint of alcohol. "We should have a drink to celebrate." She nods towards the remainder in the bottle, her smile widening.
Ginovae's gaze slips from Angelus as her brother responds, her head tilting to watch him briefly after he has explained the cause of their suspicion, before an assessing study is given to Cirshi in turn, watching specifically the dexterity of the blue fingers that fiddle with the few pieces of scrap equipment. Seeming to find nothing to cause immediate concern, she then turns her attention to Angelus, a slow nod given to confirm her brother's words, her eyes once more studying the pale-haired figure as he pours the last of the whiskey into the four glasses. "Apprentice rat-hunters, as it were?" She echoes Cirshi's earlier words with a flicker of a smirk, her fingers sliding from the rim of her glass to curl around it in anticipation of Cirshi's soon to come draining of the whiskey. "I've been called worse." She states dryly, her attention drawn momentarily to the red-haired man that enters before once more her steel blue eyes settle on Angelus. "In exchange for what?" She asks, business handled in the same neutral bordering light tone of most of the previous conversation.
"I'll pay you on commission," Angelus says with a faint smile, his hand resting just by his glass, waiting, waiting from the start-signal from the blue-skinned Cirshi. "Five hundred credits to help you settle in, find somewhere safe to crash at night. Five hundred for the shuttles. That's nothing to me; it's probably something to you. I'll be an order of magnitude more generous if you can produce results from that initial investment."
A woman in black makes her way into the Core of the 'Public, rubbing her hands together and looking around with an appraising and somewhat proprietary air. Cienna Diak orders a caf from the bar and walks past James as she does so, whispering something quietly before assuming a seat next to him.
Cienna Diak whispers to James Loro.
Gionarro's steel blue eyes slip from the table to observe the new arrival, though his attention to the conversation does not waver, "I'm certain that we'll meet quite a few people in the coming weeks, and we'll need to have someone who knows the good from the bad and the ugly. Are these people likely to take exception to being spotted? Not that it changes much, simply better to know to be careful now, than to find out we should have been, too late."
James Loro nods quietly to the young woman beside even as his drink arrives and he takes a sip before whispering in return.
James Loro whispers to Cienna Diak.
COMSYS: (all channels) A male voice says, "This is Divak Tan. Please identify yourself and switch to frequency 513."
"I'll let you know who's dangerous," Angelus assures Gionarro mildly. His fingertips sneak along the table and up the side of his glass. He seems to be preparing to seize the initiative from Cirshi.
Cirshi oohs, her smile widening as she sees glasses being filled. She reaches out, the vid-viewer forgotten as finger curl around the glass of amber alcohol. Beaming, she lifts her glass and lets out, in a voice far too loud for her own good, "Cheers!" and knocks the drink back, starting a third coughing fit as the alcohol burns its way down her throat, leaving her a quivering tangle of twig limbs in her seat. Watery-eyed, she can't find her voice this time as she struggles to stop coughing, managing a faint smile and a thumbs up, lips mouthing, "Spot", "cool", and "drink". Perhaps not in that order.
Angelus sips clinically, draining his cup, and looks down at the fallen blue one. "Is her hair really pink?" he asks. "Really, naturally pink?"
"Good, good. Doing some drafts, contacting some officials. Takes quite a bit of paperwork to get it moving and I'd rather not really get the ball rolling if there's a lot of red tape in the way." Cienna is clearly master of mixed metaphors. She accepts her caf from the bartender. "Keeping well, I hope?"
Gionarro toasts Angelus as he drains his own glass of amber liquid, smiling softly as he looks at the coughing Pantoran, "If she dyes it, then she's managed to hide both method and evidence of needing it for as long as I've known her. I'll admit to having been curious myself."
Ginovae's gaze again turns from the occupants of the corner booth that they have claimed as the door slides open again, a precursory glance to Cienna, and then to James once more, before her attention focuses on Angelus. A slight bow of her head acknowledges Gionarro's words, offering none of her own just yet to accept or turn down the offer made until Angelus replies. The glass is raised, the last of the whiskey is downed, a moment taken this time again to savor the Corellian brew, the tip of her tongue flickering out to gather the last few drops from pale red lips before a laugh drifts from her at Angelus' question in regards to the coughing, gasping blue-skinned girl. "I have never seen anything to indicate otherwise, it is a trademark of the species, I'm told." She replies, as she glances to the empty glass before setting it aside. "We would be glad to accept your most... generous offer, Angelus." She says, without seeming to confer with the Pantoran or her twin, her gaze rising to Angelus'.
James Loro nods "Yes, trust me you think the paperwork for this is bad, at one point I was considering opening a shipyard here. 5 months and I'm still waiting for more paperwork."
Cirshi nods her head, managing to find her voice, if a tad hoarser for the alcohol, "Yes, yes. Pink. Pantoran have pink hair." She swallows, coughing once, her voice a bit closer to her norm afterwards. "Why is it nobody believe I have pink hair?" She rubs at her nose, seemingly unbothered by the fact her part in the deal isn't discussed and is just assumed by Ginovae. Bending over, she reaches out, grabbing the broken viewer that fell out of her lap, turning to watch the rest of the room, noticing the new arrivals for the first time. "Huh," is all she offers.
Angelus laughs a little, his beautiful face only slightly flushed after three rounds of whiskey and whatever he was sipping before. He takes four small black cylinders from a pocket, pushing them across the table to Ginovae. "Twin One would be the one for these," he says. "And ... let me see." He produces a cheap, somewhat battered palm-size datapad, thumbing through it briefly. "1554, 1557, 1558, 1610, 1612. That should be enough for now." He pushes it toward Gionarro. "This might be Twin Two's bailiwick." A little chuckle and he rummages in a pocket, putting a piece of gold-tint wire on the table in front of Cirshi. "Try linking this to the terminals, Pink Blue."
Angelus gives his Scrap Armor Part to Cirshi.
Angelus pays Ginovae 1000 credits.
James Loro shakes his head and takes another sip of his drink. "My engineer quit, his cause unknown though I intend to ask if I see him again."
Cirshi glances back to the table as a new nickname is tagged to her back. She stares a moment then begins to giggle, a hand rising to cover her mouth. "Pink Blue /Yellow/," she says once she can speak, turning her head to point at the yellow lines on her cheek. She begins giggling again, fingers plucking at the wire as she hooks into a terminal without thought. She pauses afterwards and stares at the wire, "Huh, this the new x-70 series connection feed? Wow, I once was playing arond and saw these X-89s, so sweet... Zoom fast, you know, I mean, ZOOM!" She stands up as she shouts the last, waving a hand in the air like it was a rocket, stumbling into the table for support afterwards. "Whoa... too fast..." She reachs up and rubs her forehead, scratching at her scar.
Gionarro accepts the datapad, scanning the indicated files briefly before nodding. "Just contact you if we spot them? I think that we can handle that without much trouble. Thank you, both for the opportunity, and the company." He looks up reaching out to steady Cirshi with a hand to her shoulder, "I think some of us might be needing a bit of rest before observing though."
"That's a dangerous habit to get into with Cirshi." Ginovae says, with a nod to indicate the wire, though the words are softened with a smile cast to the pink-haired girl. "She's like a stray, you feed her once, she'll keep coming back. Trust me, we speak from experience." Ginovae says wryly, even as her hand slides from the empty glass to hover over the cylinders, the fingertip of her index fingers sliding from one to the next before they are cupped in her palm. Drawn from the table, her hand slips beneath the table, the credsticks tucked away somewhere on her person or clothing for safe keeping, though her head turns to let her gaze scan the files brought up on the datapad. "How do we get a hold of you?" She asks, glancing back to Angelus as she slips back into her jacket, as Gionarro steadies the wobbly Cirshi.
"Get as much information as you can safely," Angelus says, "but substantially, yes. The more you can find out, the happier I'll be." He rises smoothly, his smile faint and amused. "I'm not hard to get hold of. Send to Angelus Caeli from the holonet terminals, or input my name-identifier code azr0091673271001 into your comlink."
Cirshi leans a bit into the steadying hand, reaching down to grip the back of the chair and lower herself into her street. She whispers, "Not a stray... and nothing dangerous about fast terminal access..." She frowns, eyeing the empty glass once she's seated, running her finger along the rim before tipping it over. "No spill, all OK..."
"We'll let you know when we find anything of use, Angelus." Ginovae replies smoothly, sliding out of the end of the booth, hands smoothing the jacket into place, zipping up the bottom half to keep it snugly in place. "I hope you don't mind, I prefer to do most business face to face." A slight pause, and a small smile. "I suppose I'm an old-fashioned girl, after all." She adds. "Thank you, for the drinks, and the business." She says, before crossing to the other side of Cirshi, deftly collecting the pieces scattered across the table and tucking them into their originating compartments from the mechanic's toolbelt before offering an arm to wrap around Cirshi's waist to help her up and to her feet.
"If you want to meet face to face," Angelus says quietly, his smile momentarily growing to an edged half-moon, "I have no objections. Don't find me, I'll find you. Best of luck--I'll check in soon, Twin One." He pauses for a moment, watching to see if Cirshi will make it to her feet or fall over.
Cienna shakes her head. "Shame when business ventures break apart like that. Find another? I mean, I don't have time to run a shipyard but there's others around that'd love to branch out, I'm sure." She leans back and takes a long drink from her caf. "Could be some interesting developments," she concludes.
Gionarro rubs Cirshi's shoulder affectionately, "No, Vae's just teasing Blue. Time for us to go though. We'll keep an eye out, although sometimes what you're looking for is in the opposite direction from your attention. Helps to have someone watching over your shoulder then." He offers his hand to Angelus, the other slipped under Cirshi's to support her from the other side.
James Loro shakes his head "I'm working on it though." He then finishes his drink "Good Luck with your struggle against red tape. I hope it's shorter than mine."
Ginovae looks back to the counter once more, before a general study is given to the bar at large, and then again her eyes come to rest on Angelus, a slow smile edging up one corner of her lips at his reply. "I look forward to it." She replies, before she must turn her attention to Cirshi, shifting her hold to a more comfortable one around the slender girl's waist, her hand snagging one blue arm to bring it up to rest over her shoulders. "It was a pleasure." She calls, as she and Gionarro begin negotiating through the obstacles of chairs and tables and patrons and back out to the grainy air of the underside of the city.
Cirshi murmurs a faint, "Whoa," as she is helped to her feet once more, blinking as she glances around before finding Ginovae holding her up. Her lips widen in abroad, goofy grin, "Oh, hey..." She closes her eyes and rests her head on Vae's shoulder, leaning in against her. "This is nice... where we going?" As soon as she asks, her eyes open, smiling hopefully as she asks, "More drinks?" She turns her head, spying Angelus and smiles at him, "Oh, hi again! Thanks for the drinks and before you ask again," she nods her head as emphatically as the tone of her voice, eyes closed, "My hair is naturally pink. Mmmhmm. Pink, pink, and pink again. So there." She smiles, easily handled by her two associates.
Category:February 2009 RP Logs