[Log] Bishop's tour

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Grace O'Malley - Dorsal Observation
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While the observation deck is commonly used on military and corporate vessels as a briefing room or executive lounge, here, it's been converted into something far more welcoming. Three soft, overstuffed couches and several armchairs of emerald green have been gathered about a broad, low-lying table of burnished oak. An age-faded map of the oceans and lands of an unfamiliar planet are set deep below layers of varnish on the tabletop. Carpet in a myriad of oceanic blues in a wavelike pattern extends to every edge of the deck, covering the metal plating of the floor.

To the aft of the deck, an ornately carved oak bar curves slightly to create a nook against the half-dome of blast-proof reinforced glass that comprises the ceiling and all but the fore wall, allowing a view of the rear hull of the ship and all that may lie beyond.

Narrow stairs from below open up against the lone wall, which is covered in a lovingly painted mural. A regal looking woman with close cropped auburn hair stands defiantly proud at the prow of an ancient sailing vessel, and looking out over verdant, rocky shores in the distance. The bright summer sky of the painting seems to illuminate the whole of the room and its winds fill the illustrated sails.
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As promised, apparently Happy Hour is set to commence. Standing behind the bar is Bishop, in his new wardrobe selection with all the commonly used bottles pulled out and set up along with mugs, glasses, mixers... all the trimmin's and fixin's. In fact, he's already at work, shaking a mixing container that rattles with ice.



Saienne walks up the staircase to the observatory with customary lightness of foot and spirit. She is dressed informally in a pair of dark trousers and a white shirt which has the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. "Bishop," she says gravely as she makes her way across the blue carpet to the beautiful oak bar, "Looks like tomorrow might be a painful mornin'."


Happy Hour is a concept that Tyr can understand. "Bishop. My, it's good to have a fella who knows how to bartend on board." His eyes sweep over all the spirits
in a happy sort of way.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Gentle steps on the staircase, swift in rythm, can be heard just after Saienne's arrival in the observantory. And then a blonde head can be seen, green eyes take a turn around the room and finally lights on the bar. "I heard there was an event here just," comes Sirah's rich voice. "I hope you would not mind if I joined you?" A smile creases her lips, and she steps onto the deck on graceful feet, heading for the bar.


"Tomorrow, will indeed be a painful morning if you take the Bishop tour. Now, I got to warn you. The trip starts slowly but it will take you across most of the core worlds, many of the outlying lands sampling a variety of drink specialties. Where you end up in the morning though... is of no accountability of mine." Bishop grins then as he looks between Sai and Tyr, "Feeling... adventerous?" At the arrival of Sirah, Bishop smirks a little bit. "And of course not, this bar is welcome to all who'd approach it, and I take many requests."


Saienne turns from the bar as Sirah makes her entrance, swishing up the steps to the observatory. "You must be the guest I ain't yet met," she says cordially, smiling a characteristic lop-sided smile. "An' you're more than welcome, an' all." She looks sideways at Bishop. "The Bishop tour? Good gorram." She frowns, crowsfeet wrinkling deeply. "Ain't I adventurous by nature? An' as long as I manage to tumble down the stairs in the general vicinity of my bunk..." She shrugs. "Well, precision ain't exactly necessary."


Tyr runs a hand through his hair, brushing it in a sheepish sort of way. Tyr can't help but stare at the new female arrival whom he does not know. And then he realizes he's staring, so he glances away. "So -- that sounds like somethin'. I'm on board."


"I shall approach the bar, then," says Sirah lightly at Bishop's request, and does just so; in a series of swift steps she appears at the bar next to Saienne. A smile creases the corners of her lips, and a nod of greeting is sent at everyone present - both pilot-turned-bartender and the other two.


"This is true. I boarded at Persephone, but I'm afraid I have spent much too long time in my own cabin. I had a few affairs that needed tending to, but I am done with those. I am Sirah, and you would be," her green gaze intensifies on the other woman. "Saienne? And ... Tyr, I believe."


"That's the spirit." Bishop says as he starts pouring drinks. The club soda makes an appearance with a gentle mix of lemon and oddly salt, it's really just a nice light citrusy drink. "This first drink on the tour..." He explains while setting out three glasses and pouring the concotion in, "takes us to upscale Alliance Nobility. Gentle, soothing with a bit of fizz to ignite the taste buds." Looking to Sirah, Bishop makes sure the third glass he sat down was right in front of her, clearly indicating that participation in the 'tour' may well be non-optional. "Welcome aboard." He says with a slow smile.


"Ain't no bother," says Saienne to Sirah in regard to her comment about spending too much time in her cabin. "That's what we got them for, ain't it? A corner of privacy in the madhouse." She grins crookedly, and nods at the mention of her name: "Saienne Olaeno," she confirms, "An' a pleasure to meet you an' all, Sirah." Sai steps up to one of the bar stools and takes a seat, leaning one elbow on the bartop. "Light an' citrusy?" She asks Bishop, taking a sniff as the bubbles fizz and pop. "Is that so?"


"Oh. Oh, yeah. I'm Tyr. Tyr Bannik." The ranch hand stammers a little bit, but forces out a nervous smile to the Companion. A stratch at the back of his head and Tyr reaches for the drink. He may well need this. "How -- did you know?"


An arched brow raises a fraction of an inch at the mention of 'upscale Alliance Nobility', but Sirah quietly takes her seat at a chair and closes her lithe fingers around the pale drink. It is lifted, and tipped at Bishop, a brief smile lighting her eyes.


"Oh indeed. And a pleasure to meet you both as well," she then says, turning her gaze to the side. "And Sander told me," the companion sends Tyr a friendly nod. "Could you blame me for being curious about the crew, even if I had not seen you all?"


"Well of course Sai. Noble, cultured folk you see enjoy the sensation of being light on one's feet. That's why the further out you get from the core, the more you find the heavier drinks that weigh down the stomach." Bishop explains with a smile. "Which we'll get to as well. By time this is all done you'll be drinking mud and begging for more." Tapping the bar in front of Tyr, Bishop smiles at the ranch hand. "Tyr, take the drink, trust me." Looking over at Sirah, the bartender/pilot tilts his head. "Curiousity caught the companion... or so the legend goes."


"Not at all," replies Saienne to Sirah. "Wholly prudent approach, I reckon." She sips the drink Bishop has prepared - tipping it to him by way of a toast after the first sip. "Bishop," she says gravely, fingering the glass's delicate stem with long fingers. "You got the measure of me, I reckon. Spent a goodly portion of my life drinkin' rum distilled to be thicker than molasses, ain't it so?" About as far, comes the silent comment, from noble and cultured as it is possible to get. "Speakin' of which, are we goin' to get to any of that...?" She peers down behind the bar - in so doing getting a clearer vision of the pilot's choice of clothing. "Oh my," she says, leaning back and looking back up to Bishop's face. Her crooked grin appears. "That there's a whole new take on sartorially challenged, ain't it?"


Tyr takes the drink. Oh, he takes the drink. "Well, I suppose that makes plenty of sense. I hope you only got told the good stuff about m -- oh. Well. That explains it." Sirah is a Companion. He turns when Sai mentions Bishop's clothes. He says nothing. He drinks more.


"The drinks at noble parties do tend to contain more bubbles than water. And more alcohol than bubbles. That much is true, at least," Sirah flicks a green glance at the towel-wrapped bartender. The lady lifts the glass the rest of the way to her lips, tastes it with closed eyes -- and swiftly moves it out in arm's length, focusing at it carefully.

"Why, this is really fine!" She then exclaims. Only a very keen observer would detect the note of earnest surprise in the companion's soft voice. She only tears her gaze away from the bubbly drink at Saienne's comments, regarding her with a calm and expectant expression.


Taking his own shot of the fizzy citrusy drink, Bishop sets to work on the next shot that is to be prepared. Thicker and mildly syrupy, a similar fruity taste presents itself as the drink is mixed and then poured in greater abundance. It takes much longer to prepare this drink however allowing for conversation. "All my clothes are soaking wet, don't ask, only thing that was dry was this towel. So, I wear the towel." Bishop explains rather plainly as if it all makes perfect sense. "Well of course it's fine. I'm not going to serve you all motor oil. At least not until later."


"Tyr," Sai begins in good-natured tones, "I do not for a moment believe that any of the folk aboard could have a bad thing to say about you, so don't you fret none." A pause, and she sips from her glass again. "An' anyhow a lady such as Sirah would never be so indiscreet as to mention if they had." She grins crookedly at Tyr; and then, to Bishop, says dryly: "I expect I should be thankful for small mercies, an' all." A beat. "Least you scrounged up a towel."


"Well, it is a good drink." Tyr drinks more. "And Bish, maybe you can just ask for help with the laundry if you need it rather than -- I mean. I always got some time on my hands, and I could." He waves his hand vaguely. He drinks.


"I saw you the other day on Jiangyin, out where the cows were being kept." The blonde woman says conversationally at Bishop as he busies himself with the drinks. "You were soaked. Is it a pilot custom, to shower with your clothes on?"

Sirah does not exactly smile, but her eyes sparkle even as she turns to Tyr and nods.

"Despite what Saienne so kindly says, rest assured that I did, in fact, hear no ill of you. I enjoy the company onboard the Grace, even if I might just say farewell before the motoroil is served."


"Small?!" Bishop mockingly exclaims and looks down, "Oh... right." He then looks between Tyr and Sirah as he begins to pour the thicker drink that is still fruity and a little heavier on the alcohol. "Well, the thing is this. I have a leak in my cabin and it's... occassionally getting my clothing wet from once in awhile."


"Me an' all," agrees Saienne fervently, about the motor oil. "Reckon a person has to be a special kind of desperate to start downin' anythin' like that." She looks up brightly at Tyr: "Got plenty of odd jobs to be gettin' on with if you're lookin' for things to do in the absence of calves an' chickens," she says. "Ronnie's given me a list as long as my arm to work through." She rolls her eyes in Bishop's direction. "Don't go twistin' my words again," she admonishes. "Not all of us have our minds permanently in the gorram gutter." She finishes the citrusy drink and sets the glass down delicately on the oak bar. "There's a leak in your bunk?" Saienne asks, frowning. "I reckon that falls into the odd job remit, if you want it lookin' at...?"


"I betcha I can take a look into it," says Tyr with a nod. "I mean, I'm not no mechanic or anything, but I bet I could pick up a bit of knowledge working around the ship, right?"


"A leak. In your cabin."

Even as Saienne speaks, Sirah narrows her eyes at Bishop - but the woman's gaze is far from unfriendly; it seems, rather, that she derives some subtle amusement from following their conversation. The new drink is lifted, inspected, and tasted.

"Not too bad," she comments gently and turns the glass slowly in her fingers, watching the dim light sparkle in the liquid. "It reminds me of this party on Sihnon. It was a masquerade, and the theme was fairytales. There were drinks like this, and they changed colours in the light from the moons."


"Only moon around here is when my pants fall down." Bishop quips as he sips his own drink, taking a few moments to enjoy it. "As for my quarters, it's all well and good. What happened essentially is I had to do some rewiring to get something configured... and in doing it I might have sort have shorted the fire sprinklers." He says the last quickly and coughs, "So every once in awhile... the sprinklers kick on."


"Reckon we could share the jobs out between us," Sai replies to Tyr. "I ain't no mechanic neither - these ain't mechanic jobs, just general bits an' pieces..." She tails off, listening to Sirah recall the masquerade on Sihnon. "Sounds just delightful," she says, genuinely. "Only been to Sihnon once, an' it was a flyin' visit an' all. Spaceport was about all I got to see, but it was fine an' impressive anyhow." She then grins at Bishop as he tells his tale. "Oh my," she says. "Well, weldin' an' replacin' of pipes I could help you with, but wirin' ain't in my set of skills. Most likely it'd be permanently rainin' in there if I even tried." A pause. "An' really, I prefer it when you're wearin' more than a towel."


"I hope it is not a general problem with the cabins onboard the O'Malley." Sirah looks between Saienne and Tyr, contriving to look lightly concerned. "I am not sure I would appreciate my newly-rugged floor converted into a pool. But now I know whom to call, at least, if there is ever a leakage; not that I would change any of the wiring myself."

She quirks a smile and empties her glass, placing it upon the counter. Her gaze then turns to Bishop, and she queries:

"Have you just one set of clothes, then? You should ask Captain Aradia to pay you more."


"I have more than one set... jut all my sets are wet right now." Bishop explains then smiles to Sai, "And I'm still trying to fix the wiring as it were, but I'm not getting rid of the disco ball just because its a little wet. Now, who is ready for round three?" He asks, pausing to smile at Sirah.


"Aw, no," says Tyr. "I mean, I'm high and dry in my cabin. Love my cabin. It's one of the doubles, but it's only got just me in it for the time bein', so I got plenty of space." He chuckles. "And sure, Sai. Gimmie the list."


"Well I ain't never got rained on in the middle of the night neither," Saienne says, smiling slightly at Tyr. "So I reckon you'll be safe enough, Sirah." She waves her empty glass towards Tyr and nods. "In the mornin'. When we're nursin' hangovers set to split our heads in two." Sai grins crookedly. "Best time of all to do the messy an' horrible jobs, ain't it? Why waste a good day doin' them when you can waste a miserable one?" She mouthes the words 'disco ball' into the air and, sighing a little, nods to Bishop. "What're we drinkin' next, then?"


"Safety from water-leakages is an important thing. I am very pleased to hear you say so," the woman's lips crease in a warm smile at Saienne. "And I shall never worry about a fire, either. It sounds as if the sprinklers onboard are quite exuberant. So, you have a double cabin, all to yourself, Tyr. Very comfortable, I am sure."

Sirah sends a thoughtful look at Tyr before turning to her empty glass -- nodding at Bishop.

"I am. Your drinks taste just fine, very fine."


"Well. I'll still be up and doin' my job. It's what the Cap'n pays me for. But I may just have a bit of a head ache." Tyr shakes his head slightly, but then casts a little smile towards the Companion, perhaps trying to figure out if she has any other meaning there. "It's pretty shiny," he agrees, tentatively.


"Very fine. I'm going to need to put that on my business cards." Bishop says with a lopsided grin before he sets to pouring again. "This is one of my favorites, it's actually called the Persephone, I developed it while working there. It's a spin on a Martini." He starts mixing the drinks together, the vodka, the necessary ingrediants before shaking it up in the mixing device.


"Havin' any kind of bunk to oneself is blessin' enough, ain't it?" Saienne asks, to no one in general. "Spent too long sharin' with folk who snore or talk in their gorram sleep or somesuch." She watches as Bishop mixes the latest drink. "The Persephone," she says. "Is that so? All nice an' shiny an' bright on top, but concealin' a dark an' dirty underbelly."


Sirah's eyes follow the drink curiously as it is mixed, taking note of the ingredients that go into the mixer. "I wonder where the rest of the crews is," she muses with a glance at the stairway. "I think I recall Sander saying he might attend later. And does anyone know where Aradia is?"


Tyr shakes his head. "I don't know, myself," he confesses. "Seems like the Cap'n is always out makin' deals. Heck, I don't even know what planet we're on half the time."


"Business. And Ariel." Bishop says with a slight smirk towards Sirah before pouring the drinks, ironically pouring for the companion first then filling the other glasses. "Now, this martini will have a bit of a kick to it. And actually close Sai. I call it the Persephone because, first off I came up with it while working there. But second, it's clear... but despite the crisp clean look it's got that bite to it that can sometimes make you grimace."


"Captain's out on a job, far as I understand it." Saienne says, and, without missing a beat, turns to Tyr and says: "Nature of the game, ain't it? An', Tyr, I reckon you need to get out more. Ain't we supposed to be goin' to dinner some time?" To Sirah: "Josephine's off visitin' someplace." She looks thoughtful, at that. "An' I miss her, an' all," she says. A pause, and Sai shrugs - a fluid roll of her shoulders: "But I ain't got no idea where any of the other folk are hidin', mind. I expect they'll make their way up here when we're three sheets to the wind already an' all kinds of amusin'." She nods with a sagacity that could only be born of experience when Bishop explains the naissance of the Persephone: "Well," she says, pulling her glass towards her, "Sounds just like my cup of tea, don't it?"


Sirah lets a hand lift the 'Persephone', regarding the drink with a composed expression.

"It is clear, but things are oddly obscured when you look through it. Drinking it likely will not change this fact!" A head is tilted at the lucid liquid, an almost fond smile given at the sight. She takes a sip, then, but this time - this time - she stops sooner, leaving half of the drink in the glass. The companion blinks, once.

"Very nice," she croaks, and clears her throat. A quick smile is flashed at Saienne, her voice soft as ever: "You can count on Sander sitting in his cabin and reading from his religeous texts, I dare say." "A bit of a kick, huh?" asks Tyr over to the Companion, taking a long gulp of his own. Wince. Wow. "So. Uh. Are you with us for long, ma'am, or are you just hitchin' a ride for now?"


"If you're just hitchin' a ride you'd best beware," says Saienne seriously. "I was doin' just that - Verbena to Persephone as I recall it; nice steady run - an' I ended up stayin'." She pauses and smiles out of the windows into the middle distance. "Been nearly a year now, ain't it?" She sips her own Persephone a little more delicately than Tyr managed and licks her lips. She grins a crooked grin. "Now we're gettin' closer to my kind of drink."


"It is very strong, yes." Sirah smiles at Tyr and lets her glass rest on the table, hand still loosely curled around the drink. "And even if I would like to stay for longer," a nod at Saienne, "then I could not. A companion can only travel onboard one ship for so long, then we are assigned to another vessel." A light shrug is given, as well as a regretful half-smile, and the lady sips from her drink once more.

She manages to half the contents again, leaving a quarter of the liquid.


During the conversation, Bishop is already getting to work, constantly moving now. However some of the ingrediants he pulls out are rather interesting. Cocoa powder, tobasco sauce... and a lot of very very heavy strong liquors start getting mixed together as he works in silence, a rather serious look in his eyes of concentration.


"Oh. Well. I suppose so," agrees Tyr with a nod of his head, digging out that small nugget of information from the back of his head. "So you're -- uh. Assigned to us for now?" he asks.


"I didn't realise," says Saienne, "That there's a time limit on such arrangements." She pauses, considering: "But now I think on it, it makes good business sense, don't it? The more ships a Companion contracts with, the more of the 'Verse she'll get to see, presumably - an' that ain't never goin' to be bad for spreadin' the civilisin' word an' all." Saienne peers over at Bishop and the new collection of ingredients he has gathered at the bar. "Good gorram," she murmurs. "Tour ain't the half of it. This is goin' to turn out more like safari."


"Yes," Sirah laughs for the first time since she entered the bar. It is a pleasing sound, much as the nod that she gives to Tyr. "I am assigned to you, or you are assigned to me. It is all a matter of perspective. And this is exactly the reason, the very nature of this arrangement."

The companion lets a warm gaze light on Saienne, frowing softly at the mention of a safari. Her gaze swivels to regard Bishop, and the ingredients that he mixes; a sight that makes her say, politely:

"I am sorry, but I may not be able to stay for the whole tour."


Bishop chuckles and grins a bit at Sirah as he starts mixing the choco and drink together. After several minutes in the shaker getting shook up, he adds the tobasco sauce in. "This... this is something I have never served before but I am attempting for the first time for you folks." He explains to them. "I call it... The Gorram Witch who Shattered my Heart." A final swirl of the drink and Bishop starts pouring it into the shot glasses. "It should be sweet at first, flavorful, and then there hopefully will be a bit of a bite that'll open up your taste buds to reality. Just like that piece of..." Clearing his throat, Bishop smiles. "Enjoy."


"Oh. Well." Tyr slides a hand through his hair, giving Sirah a shy smile. "It is very nice to have you aboard, Sirah. Real shiny." He nods, then reaches for the new drink. And he takes a sip. And his eyes begin to water.


"Can't say as I blame you," Saienne says to Sirah in response to her comment about not being able to stay for the messy end to this hour. "But Tyr ain't wrong - it is good to have you aboard." Sai peers at the small glass Bishop has provided this time round, bending down towards it to sniff. She looks up at Bishop, dubiously. "Smells... interestin'." Saienne picks the shot glass up and knocks the odd concoction back in one go. At first, there's not much response. Then, as the tobasco hits the back of her throat she lets out a bit of a strangled cough and a harsh: "Good gorram!" She coughs again. "Shattered heart ain't the half of it!" She tilts the shot glass and regards the tiny bit remaining warily. "That's... interestin'."


"Thank you," the Companion says with a fond glance at both Saienne and Tyr. "And ... a heartbreaking drink? This I must try, at least," Sirah daintily empties her glass and places it upon the desk to be refillled. The next drink is regarded with some apprehension on her part.

"She must have been a very special woman," she says with feeling at Bishop, looking down once more to regard the oddly-coloured contents with a frown. A deep breath is taken, then, the cloth of her golden dress shimmering in the wan light -- but her mien is far from pleased as she closes her eyes and swiftly sips from her drink. And there she stiffens, pausing with the glass still touching her lips, eyes widening. And then?

The glass is carefully, but firmly, placed down; a blush rising in her cheeks.


Looking at his own shot glass, Bishop nods to it. "Just like that piece of garbage said to me, 'Grow up, put some hair on your chest.'" Then he knocks back his own shot, slapping the bar extensively as it bites him all over, eyes watering and finally he smiles. "I need to fine tune that drink... but it's going to be a winner. Too much of the bourbon I think." Shaking his head, Bishop actually gets some more of the lighter fruitier drink ready again to follow down the previous heavy mind blasting shot. "I curious myself in wondering if you'd have thought you'd be taking shots with the crew." He inquires towards Sirah. "As for special, well, damn skippy she was."


Tyr manages to choke down the drink, nodding his head slowly. "It sure really packs a punch like a horse bucking you right over the fence," says Tyr, finding only that as an acceptable metaphor for what he's feeling right now.


Four drinks down in quick succession and Saienne isn't looking drunk, but her dark eyes do have that shine particular to the merrily tipsy. She regards Bishop's chest for a moment and comments: "Din't work, then, I can see." She leans back a little on the bar stool and grins crookedly at Tyr. "Ain't that the truth," she says. "Just that kind of a kick."


"Drinking shots with the crew? It is an experience, for sure," Sirah answers Bishop with a smile. "And yes, I'd have thought that I'd be drinking with the crew at some stage. But," the companion raises a finger, a sparkle growing in her eyes.

"My reasons are my own. It was enjoyable, everyone. Thank you for the drinks, if you don't mind I would save that latter one for...," she rallies, "later. Good bye fo rnow, everyone."

And then she slides down from her stool and turns around, leaving the room.


Bishop lifts his glass towards Sirah as she moves off then sighs, "responsibility screams at me. I should stop now, I think I need to fly us soon as Aradia gets done and I'll have to... well, be at least moderately sober."


Tyr raises a hand. "Take care, Sirah. I hope we can -- talk later." Which, while genuine, he seems to be realizing on the end that it sounds kinda lame. So he trails off.


"Duty before pleasure, an' all that," Saienne says cheerfully to Bishop. "No doubt there's some unpleasant job I was puttin' off that I feel able to tackle now my mood has so unexpectedly improved." She nods a goodbye to Sirah. "You take care, an' all," she says - somewhat unnecessarily as it's not a dangerous journey from here to the portside - to the Companion as she departs.