[Log] Molotov cocktails and calculus brawls...

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Crew Commons, Grace O'Malley [Persephone]
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Crew Commons----"Evenin', Ronnie," says Saienne cordially as she steps into the commons from the portside quarters. She is dressed even informally than is usual, a loose cream shirt and a pair of baggy crimson fishermen's trousers, and her feet are bare. "You surely missed one hell of a party the other night. Molotov cocktails an' everythin'." She doesn't look entirely overjoyed at that, and she veers into the galley without slackening her stride.


Ronnie chuckles a bit at that notion, "If'n there were molotovs, I ain't sorry to have missed it. You know good and well my feelings on violence and such. I'm agin' it, cuz of I ain't no good at it. Call me when there's a calculus brawl on the docks, I'll clean gorram house, with a smile on my face." He smiles at the courier, "Ye wanna beer? I don't leave the ship much, but since Ara declared we wasn't stocking beer, I been heading off at each drop and laying in my own stock."


Saienne smiles a lop-sided smile at Ronnie. "Now you're speakin' my language," she says to the engineer. "A beer'd be real good." She leans down to open the door to the fridge, but pauses: "They in here?" she asks. Waiting for his response, Sai's expression gains a wry quality. "Well, I wasn't exactly singin' from the rooftops neither when all hell broke loose. As far as I'm concerned, the party was swingin' just fine an' dandy with Cosmopolitans an' Singapore Slings." She straightens, and shrugs in Ronnie's direction. "Certain folks seemed to disagree with me, though, ain't it so?"


Ronnie raises an eyebrow at the first question, "Who you mean by 'they'? I dunno, glad you wasn't all crazy-happy to join in the tossing of bullets and drawing of guns. Somebody'll get their eye put out with the kinda shenanigans this crew often gets into..." Popping his personal food-locker with a wave of his fob-key, he tosses the odd courier a brew and grabs one himself, "So, folks pissing you off started the fireworks? I mean, frankly, I always been into you a bit, but dunno that I'd go to shooting off firearms over it or nothing, what's the story?"


"Not who - it." A beat; a questioning glance as if that explains it all. "The beer." As Ronnie opens his locker, she leans away from the fridge entirely and settles back against the galley counter. "Reckon not, then," she says, with an easy grin. She grabs the bottle and twists the cap off using the edge of the counter, immediately looking a little concerned. "Good gorram, don't tell Josephine I'm abusin' the furnishings in such a manner..." Ronnie's questions cause her to shake her head emphatically. "Hell no - nothin' to do with me. I just stumbled into the crossfire comin' home from the party - wearin' a gorram skirt and high heels, would you believe it?" She shakes her head. "Don't have a clear idea of why it blew up - no clearer than the news on the Cortex, anyhow, an' we all know how far we can trust that." She smiles a lop-sided smile at his other comment, but does not otherwise respond to it.


Ronnie laughs aloud, heartily, "Can't say I've ever had such a negative experience with such. Seein' as how I don't wear high heels. Maybe skirts occasionally. Sarongs being so comfortable and all, and what's sarong with that?!" Smiling warmly at her abuse of the furniture, he notes, "Uh, we've got a bottle opener, you know? I have one on my keychain, along with a sparkplug gapper. So, what all went on out there, anyway? I don't leave the ship much, I'm vaguely paranoid I'd get left, and besides that, it's dangerous out there...." his voice trails off, as his PDA begins playing 'Knockin' onHeaven's Door', the original, Bob Dylan. Whatever Ronnie may or may not knowabout Earth-that-Was, he's a longtime fan of the music of that bygoneera/planet.


"Reckon you did the wisest thing stayin' aboard..." Sai begins; but she soon shakes her head and amends her statement. "No. I didn't mean that, truly. The dancin' was lovely, an' all the ladies looked fine an' fancy..." She breaks into a little chuckle at Ronnie's joke. "That was gorram awful," she says. "An' I ain't in the habit of causin' myself difficulties by wearin' skirts an' heels neither, but the occasion called for it. Just coincidence my dressin' up happened to coincide with a gorram riot." She looks down at her bottle and then again at the counter somewhat dubiously. "Force of habit," she mutters, "Don't know what came over me." She takes a swig of beer and strides over from the galley to the benches set around the dining table.


Ronnie smiles warmly again at Saienne, chuckling a bit, "Well, it's a very, very old joke, and what's sarong with that?" Snorting softly, he continues, "Anyway, yeah, it's a very functional mode of dress when I don't have to work, and it's hot as hell out. Like those big robe things Muslims wear. Shame I missed girlies all dressed up, but if it ended in explosions, perhaps was for the best, ha!" he notes with significant humor... "So, can just anyone see you done up, or does shit have to explode for it?"


"Djellaba," says Saienne, absently. "Or mayhap you mean a kaftan? Either way, plenty sensible for hot weather." She shakes her head at Ronnie. "We weren't dressin' up on account of the burnin' buildings - rather, on account of the dancin' an' the music an' the drinkin' an' all them other things folk do at posh parties." She grins crookedly. "An' to be straight an' true with you, I don't do much dressin' up unless there's dancin' promised." She looks seriously at Ronnie. "I surely would prefer it if you didn't blow things up on my account." A pause. "Blowin' things up used to be my job, more or less, an' the thought of it still makes me somewhat nervous." She grins crookedly. "Seein' as we're talkin' about uncharacteristic behaviour, Ronnie, what would it take to get you dirtside for a day or so?"


Ronnie seems confused at first, "What's a kaftan or a djellaba? I don't know all these fancy names for dresses, I just know the kind I wear is a sarong. Mayhap you know more about such'n me." Shaking a head a bit at her explainations, he notes, "Dancing ain't something I was ever any good at, sadly. I know women are all into it, the 'verse over it seems. But I never was any count at it. As for hopin' I don't blow shit up on your account, that's a foregone conclusion. Last time I even suggested blowing shit up, Maxwell pitched a hissy fit over it. And I was just talking about doors then." Inhaling a bit, he adds, "Getting me dirtside? I dunno, mayhaps the arm of a beautiful woman would do, it's done for stupider things, after all. Aside from that, I'm all for staying onboard, though. It's safe here, see?"


"What Muslim folk wear -" Saienne starts to elaborate, but decides against it and sits herself down at the wooden table. She sets her bottle of beer down on the surface and traces a long finger along the label. "I reckon that was Maxwell talkin' sense..." she says, regarding his response to Ronnie's explosive tendencies. "Safe?" she asks, with a crooked grin. "Ain't no where safe, really, least of all a ship zippin' around hell-for-leather up there." She glances upwards at the ceiling, then, as if she can see straight through the layers, through the blue skies and atmosphere, all the way to the star-specked space they are currently flying towards.


Ronnie smirks a bit, "On a ship's pretty safe, all in all, awful lot of tons of armor plating. Plus Ara does her best not to get us blown up, and that's awful good, as far as such goes. She only crashed us once, after all, and I fixed it. Despite a bear mauling. You were lovely in all that, filling in as my physical part, truly. And then once Lu got me patched up (and doped up) I made an ass of myself... Sorry about that. I didn't know where I was or what I was saying, and Kael, whom I'd trusted to take care of me... well, he was happy to laugh at me running around making an ass of myself. Can't say I'd do any different in his shoes, still, though. Forgive me? Want another beer?" Having finished his, Ronnie's returned to his food-locker (which seems to be full of beer, worthy of a Dr. Dre video) reaching offeringly for another bottle.


"Well, I ain't never been entirely comfortable with the thought of sittin' in a tin can in vacuum." She pauses, looking around fondly at the Grace's familiar interior. "Don't get me wrong, mind," Sai says by way of clarification, "She surely beats any other tin can I've ever ridden in, an' beats them soundly an' all." She listens to the rest of Ronnie's statement: "That's true," she says, nodding. "An' as I recall it, it weren't exactly the Captain's fault we ended up on that moon, what with all those EMPs causin' all manner of havoc." She smiles fondly. "An' you an' Ymir surely did get us patched up real swift." She shrugs. "Ain't no bother, Ronnie. Had to make myself useful somehow, an' you bein pounded by a bear did at least make it easier to find myself a job." She shakes her head, grinning: "I have no idea what I'm supposed to be forgivin' you for," she says, evenly. "But I ain't got no objections to forgivin' anyhow." She waves her still fairly full bottle in his direction. "Plenty left, thank you kindly," Saienne says. "An' I better not get too squiffy as I got some waves to be sendin' soon."


Ronnie smiles readily and easily, "Well, I don't entirely remember my period walk-about while jacked up on all them painkillers, apparently I hit on every female in range, at the time. I'm not really like that, and I don't recall if you was there or not. Anyway, that's what the apology is about. If'n you was there and I hit on you, don't.... Take it wrong, ok? I was out of mind, Lu shot me so full of drugs after she re-set me spine." He looks around sheepishly, at the mentions of repairs after the crash, "I did me job, and nothing more, and as much to save me hide as anyone else's, don't mistake you. That you were a help in such is something I thank you for, myself. Freezing ain't on my list of ways to die, you know?"


Saienne laughs at that, a low and throaty chuckle. "Oh, I truly don't recall, Ronnie. I expect I was too worried about bein' stranded in the middle of nowhere on a lonely icy rock to pay too much attention to drug-addled rantin'." A pause. "Too worried, an' too gorram busy an' all." She lifts a hand to her forehead to tip Ronnie a lazy salute, and she smiles lop-sidedly. "At your command, an' all," she says evenly. "An' ain't it still so?" She pauses. "Only you got Tyr into the bargain an' all now, for which I am truly grateful on account of only havin' one back an' one set of legs."


Ronnie snorts, "Well, usually it takes no back or legs, as the hydraulics typically work. I don't remember Tyr being about much, but you were a trooper for it all. Worked like a damn dog picking up the crap I said needed to go somewhere else. Meant a lot to me. I felt useless and should've been in bed, really, but we needed to be able to lift and all, and soon. Somebody to be my arms and legs and back was greatly appreciated." Nodding a bit, he set a second beer in front of her and cracked a second himself, "Anyway, thank you, and I'm sorry if I hit on you while I was doped up after we lifted, ok?"


Saienne lifts her near-empty bottle from the table and tips it back, drinking down the last dregs, even as Ronnie plants a replacement in front of her. "Ah, hell," she says, peering at it for a moment. "An' now it's open an' all it'd be a gorram crime to waste it." She sighs, somewhat melodramatically truth be told, and reaches for the other bottle. "Oh, no, I don't reckon Tyr was with us on Haven. I was fairly new to y'all back then, if I recall correctly." She takes a swig from the new bottle. "An' don't keep apologisin'. I really don't remember anythin' untoward." There is a pause and she grins crookedly at him. "An' I reckon ten a penny I've heard worse, an' all."


Ronnie chuckles at the notion she's heard worse, "Well, likely, still, t'ain't my habit to go around harassin' all the womenfolk. Happens, I was drugged up and said all sortsa things." Sighing, he relaxes down with his own beer, "Glad I didn't piss you off. I figure I did plenty of folks, but I don't even remember who all was there, besides Kael laughing joyously. Again, not that I blame him, har, but still." Still chuckling, he continues, "Anyway, I see you're still with us, despite being a short-term messenger-passenger, eh? Like a disease, huh? Keep me appraised of your plans and all, ok?"


Saienne reaches up with one long-fingered hand to scritch at the stubble on the back of her head. "Like a disease, is that so?" she asks, smiling slightly. "What an image you're conjourin'..." She shakes her head. "An', indeed, here I still am. The Captain suggested a mutually beneficial arrangement, an' I do believe I made the correct choice in takin' her up on it." She swigs from her bottle of beer again and then looks dubiously at Ronnie. "I ain't got no plans to speak of. Been pickin' up jobs here an' there an' givin' the Grace her cut as an' when." From within a pocket in her trousers, a single clear chime rings out - presumably coming from her battered old PDA. "An' that'll be that wave I was witterin' about before..." She stands up from the table, picking up her empty and walking with it to the galley before she makes for the privacy of the portside quarters. "Much obliged for the beer," Saienne says, waving her bottle at Ronnie. "You pick this up on Persephone?" She peers at the label as she vanishes into the port corridor. "Must try to find this next time we're back there..." Her voice can be heard fading as she walks towards her bunk.


Ronnie shrugs, "I don't keep track of what I buy where, s'long as it's got booze in it." Wistfully he quotes, "I'll be in my basement room, with a needle and a spoon, and another girl to take my pain away..." before taking her empty and continuing, "Have a blast. See you around, eh?"