[Log] The same, but different

=============================================== Eavesdown Docks - Persephone ===============================================
Saienne saunters around Eavesdown with the air of someone operating in a dream world. She squints up at ships from beneath the broad brim of her hat, only to set the feather dipping and bouncing as she shakes her head. "Same but different, ain't it?" She leans back against a pile of crates that are stacked between two of the market stalls and pulls her PDA out of her coat pocket. "Course they ain't likely to be  here."


The door to Kal's Custom Weapons is open and a couple of camping chairs have been set up outside under the awning, shaded from the noonday sun. Carmen sits in one, wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a neon green tank top. Large sunglasses with brown-tinted lenses are perched upon her nose, the blue eyes behind them indistinct as they survey her surroundings, watching people come and go. Every now and then she catches someone looking her way and offers them a warm smile. The chair beside hers is empty, but a stony-faced fellow with the look of security about him stands nearby, apparently holding up the wall or something.


The crates are positioned facing Kal's, and Saienne finds herself watching the woman with the sunglasses sitting there and greeting those passing by. She appears to contemplate for a few moments, her face lost in the shadow of her hat, and then she stands and takes the few steps across the dock to Carmen's door. "Afternoon ma'am," she says, glancing mindfully at the stone-faced gentleman. "Don't suppose you sit out here often?"


The fellow by the door seems to notice Saienne before Carmen does. His brown eyes study  her appraisingly as she approaches, but he makes no move to intercept her unless she  makes a threatening move. Carmen looks over at her a moment later and smiles, an automatic response but a seemingly genuine as well. "Afternoon," Carmen greets, pushing her sunglasses up to rest atop her head amongst her golden curls. The eyes revealed are a pale blue, like ice but with considerably more warmth. "Not often, no... been pretty busy lately, but I do like to when I have a chance." She doesn't stand from her chair but she does offer a handshake. "I'm Carmen."


Saienne most emphatically is not threatening. She is... diminished. Up close, her shoulders slope and the crowsfeet around her eyes are deep. She reaches down to take Carmen's hand. "Saienne Olaeno." Saienne's reply is automatic, and she grins lop-sidedly once she has said her name. The patter has run out. "Once-upon-a-time I was a courier, but now I'm just a name." The smile fades and she shifts uncomfortably. She puts her hands in her pockets, then draws them out again to rub her palms on her trouser legs. "I'm looking for some folk is all. I wondered, if you're often sitting out here taking the air, then you might have seen them." She looks up, then, at the chaos of Eavesdown. "But I reckon it's wishful thinking and all. Ain't there but thousands of folk coming through Eavesdown every day? No way in the 'Verse you'd spot them all." She sniffs and puts her hands back in her pockets.


Carmen shakes the stranger's hand. Her grip is firm without being overly so; there is definitely strength in this small woman, as her well toned arms suggest. "Nice to meet you, Saienne." she says, figuring she might as well be on a first name basis with a woman she's only given her first name to. But then she spoils the logic by supplying, "Carmen Shamaria. Local business owner, of a sort." She gestures toward the weapons shop with a nod of her head, and her blue eyes twinkle a bit as she releases Saienne's hand and sits back in her chair again, propping one ankle up on the opposite knee. "Looking for some folk? Well, I'll help if I can. Who are you looking for?"


Saienne casts an appraising eye over the shopfront, an odd echo of the bodyguard's appraisal of her. She looks back down at Carmen. "Of a sort, is that so?" She smiles crookedly again, but her tone is serious. "I'm looking to get my own business off the ground again, so if you're ever after a reliable courier won't you keep me in mind? Got a track record going back some twenty years and only one black mark in my book." Her face has been eager, but an expression of embarrassment causes her to look to the floor, to hide under the hat brim. "But less said about that the better, I reckon." She glances over her shoulder at Eavesdown. "I'm looking for a ship, really - the Grace - and the folk who fly with her." She shakes her head, setting the feather ducking and bouncing again. "I've been asking around for a couple of days, but no one's seen her in a long while."


"Yes, well, Kal's my husband." Carmen explains, motioning to the stenciled glass window over her head. Clearly she means the 'Kal' in 'Kal's Custom Weapons'. "The shop is his baby, but I help him out with the administrative stuff." she says, as her hand drops back into her lap, then reaches for a plastic cup tucked into the cup holder of the camping chair she's sitting in. "Hmm." she says, her features taking on a speculative cast to them. "You know, we really might be able to use a reliable courier. Do you have a ship of your own?" she remarks/asks, lifting the cup for a sip. The mention of a black mark doesn't seem to phase her, and she doesn't ask for details. Yet. "Hmm... can't say as that ship is familiar to me, but.. a lot of ships come and go at Eavesdown. Sorry I can't be of more help to you. Though, names might ring a bell if you'd like to have a try."


"Administration? There's an art to that, ma'am. No business'd thrive without someone to look to the administrative stuff." She shakes her head. "No ship," she says. "But I always found that having a ship of my own was more of a hindrance than a help when it came down to the dirt of it." She lifts the hat off her head and scratches with long fingers at the greying stubble beneath. "Ain't many captains will turn a courier down. Least that used to be the way it went." She listens as Carmen talks about the volume of ships coming through Eavesdown, and nods in agreement. "Ain't that the truth. I'd forgotten, I reckon, the noise and chatter down here." She shrugs her shoulders finally and places the hat back on her head. "Ah no, it ain't no bother. I reckon they all must have retired, and the ship gone for scrap. It's been a gorram decade."


"Ahh." Carmen emits an understanding sort of sound as she sets her cup back in its holder. "I've only lived on Persephone a few years." she mentions, resting her  elbows on the arms of her chair. She seems quite relaxed. "Hmm. Well, if you have a  few moments, why don't you sit a spell and tell me a little about your work history and experience?" She gestures toward the empty chair, then shifts in her own seat to wiggle her fingers into her pocket to extract her PDA. "Saienne Oleno?" she says, repeating the woman's name somewhat inexpertly. "Would you spell that for me?" She probably intends to make a note for a background or reference check. Saienne's mention of looking for courier work might have been offhand but Carmen seems to take it rather seriously.


"I ain't never lived here," Saienne says, glancing around the docks again. "But it seems to be the place I end up when I'm between jobs, or..." She trails off, and grins crookedly at Carmen. "Or when life don't go entirely according to plan. Say what you like about Eavesdown, it's always brimming with opportunity." Saienne takes the offered chair, folding down into it until she is comfortable. "Olaeno," she repeats. "O-L-A-E-N-O. From Boros, but my family ain't much to remark on." She blinks up into the afternoon sun. "You ain't serious about the work history? Because I could yaw on that for about a hundred years and still not be done." She tips her hat off her head again and balances it on her knee. "I been zipping around up there -" she looks up to the sky again "- for twenty odd years. I always delivered and I only got in real trouble once. You can look me up, although you might want to look beyond the official Cortex feeds while you're at it."


Carmen taps at her PDA screen a bit before dropping it into her other cup holder. Each chair arm has one, and all. With that done, she glances over at Saienne and listens, curiously, as the woman speaks of her history. A smile touches her lips when Saienne jokes about her work history. "Maybe just the more recent stuff, then." she answers, with a twinkle in her eyes. "Sounds kind of like a life in perpetual motion. Like one of those fish that has to keep swimming constantly or it'll die. Do you get itchy feet if you're in one place too long?" She seems merely curious, not judgmental about it in the least. "Hmm. Anything in particular I should be looking for, unofficially?"


"There ain't no recent stuff," Saienne says, bluntly. "I've been locked up for the past seven years." Her expression is mixed - anger, certainly, but tempered with a generous dollop of shame. "When you're in my kind of business, the only thing you got to trade on is your name, your reputation. Spent a gorram lifetime building that up and now it ain't worth a cup of water in a rainstorm." She closes her eyes and basks for a quiet moment in the bright sunshine. "I took a job I shouldn't have," Saienne says, her eyes still closed, her voice quiet. "And I paid for it, and that's what you'll see in the Cortex archive. The rest of it, the twenty years building the business, you'll only find in the background." She opens her eyes and looks straight at Carmen. "Life in perpetual motion? I ain't sure about that. I just reckon that home is where I say it is, and it's with me, so if I need to move about to keep fed and warm then I move about."


What sort of reaction was Saienne expecting? Shock? Horror? Disgust? Carmen is surprised by this revelation, of course. Her pale brows lift, but she nods in acceptance rather than giving some sort of cold shoulder. "Everyone makes mistakes." she says, reaching for her cup again. She's quiet for a spell, listening to Saienne's words and sipping her drink. Nodding here and there. "What'd you go away for? If you don't mind my asking." If she has any ideas, she doesn't let on. Seven years is a long time, but not long enough for it to have been something like murder. Maybe that's why the small woman hasn't fled inside the shop full of weapons yet. Though, at the mention of a jail sentence, the eavesdropping security guard looks Saienne's way again.


Saienne is not projecting the image of a dangerous criminal. She looks old and a bit broken down, specially slumped as she is in the chair opposite Carmen. "Well, hell, that's kind of you to say so." She smiles her lop-sided smile. "I traded in stolen goods," she says. "But they were very stolen and very valuable and mistake don't tell the half of it." She shrugs a shrug that speaks of years of regret. "Crime of stupidity more than anything else." Her lop-sided smile brightens. "Folk who knew me would be amazed it took me that long, to be honest." She leans forward in her chair, slowly though so as not to spook the guard. "So much of couriering is taken on faith, you see? And most often it's the courier taking the risk."


Carmen gives a slight shrug of one shoulder, not seeming to think herself overly kind but accepting the compliment with a gracious smile nonetheless. When the crime is revealed, Carmen nods her head again, expression thoughtful. She chuckles when Saienne makes a joke at her own expense, the corners of her eyes crinkling a bit with good humor. "Yeah, a business does need to be able to trust their couriers not to just... run off with their goods, and such. But moving around the 'verse can be a risky proposition at times. Depending on how you elect to travel, of course, and the circles you run in." As she says it, she gets an odd look, as though a thought has occurred to her. "I know it's been a while, but did you ever do any trading on Freehold Station?"


"Oh, indeed," Saienne says, nodding. "Had a regular run between Newhall and Paquin for a couple of years, and I used to make some shorter runs en route. Only went to Freehold twice, I think, but I surely have been there." Saienne considers. "You spend some time there, then? I recall you said you've only been here on Persephone for a couple of years, ain't that so? Itchy feet and all, is it?" She grins her crooked grin and sits back into the chair again, quite running away with her assumption. "Reckon I would've chosen Eavesdown if I had to, and all."


Carmen's expression turns more than a little interested when Saienne mentions having made regular runs between Paquin and Newhall, with occasional visits to Freehold. Though, she blinks at the suggestion that she herself might have been a frequent visitor of the station. "Er, no... I've never been there, actually. Information on it is kind of scarce. They seem to be pretty private people out that way." Fingertips tap idly against the arm of her chair as she considers Saienne. She doesn't elaborate on her own history, more out of sheer distraction than any desire to be evasive. "But, with your experience, even being out of the world a while..." she trails off, the thought not quite completed aloud. Then she tilts her head. "Are you on parole, or did you serve your full sentence?"


"Private's right," Saienne says, with a short nod. "I ain't got the slightest idea what I was delivering, but I got paid well enough not to ask too many questions." She smiles a wry smile. "Ain't going to be making that mistake any time soon, I can promise you." At Carmen's direct question, Saienne straightens. "Full sentence," she says. She looks around Eavesdown with a suspicious expression and smoothes the feather on her hat down. It springs up when she lets it go. "I would be naive, though, I reckon, to think they won't be keeping an eye on me for a little while."


"What can you tell me about the place? I mean... I know it's been a long time since you were there, for obvious reasons. But what was the climate like when you were there? Was it dangerous?" Carmen asks, curiously. Of course, a lot of things can change in seven years. Especially on the Rim. She nods when Sainne reassures her that her days of dealing with stolen goods are over, but didn't seem *too* worried about it. After all, seven years is a long time to think about the error of one's ways. She doesn't  fail to notice Saienne's reaction to her blunt question, and she smiles at the woman in effort to soften it a bit. "One of our employees is on parole, so we're familiar with the sorts of restrictions that often come along with it." That statement alone is revealing. Maybe the Shamarias are the sort that believe in second chances.


"I don't recall it feeling dangerous, exactly, and I've been to my share of properly dangerous places." Saienne considers. "It had a code of conduct - I reckon that's the best way to describe it. I felt that if I stuck to my business, conducted my transaction, kept my nose clean, then I wouldn't have no problems." She purses her lips and regards Carmen carefully. "And you could say my alleigances ain't historically been federal, so mayhap that had something to do with it and all." She pauses and appears to be thinking. "I reckon if you might have problems if you were otherwise inclined." Carmen's smile draws a crooked smile in response, and a softening of posture. "Well, I ain't got none of those restrictions. Just watchful eyes whereas previously I might've run beneath the radar."


Carmen listens carefully to what Saienne has to say about the place, her eyes lingering on the other woman. Fortunately she has the security fellow to keep an eye on the surroundings, or a runaway mule could be bearing down on her and she might not notice. Wouldn't be the first time. "Interesting." she says, then nods and smiles a bit when Saienne mentions federal allegiances. "Gotcha." she says, taking another swallow from her cup and then putting it back in the holder. "Well, here's the thing Saienne..." she says, elbows resting on the arms of her chair once more. She laces her fingers together across her stomach. "One of the reasons why we're in need of a courier is that our ship was stolen... about a month and a half ago. We have reason to believe that is on Freehold, and we've reported that to the Alliance but... it's been a few weeks since then, and we're not rightly sure they're going to do anything about it. If you'd be willing... I'd like to hire you to go out there and snoop around a little bit under the guise of a delivery. There's no shuttle service, you'll have to find your own way out there."


As Carmen makes her proposal, Saienne's attention is fixed on her. She listens, unblinking, her feathered hat balanced on her knee. As the other woman finishes, Saienne lifts her hat and places it back on her head. The broad brim shadows her face again. "You did hear what I said about codes of conduct and keeping my nose clean, right?" She purses her lips again and considers. "I ain't got the slightest probem finding my own way out there - ain't hardly a hardship - but you're asking me to go snooping around a place renowned for being secretive and suchlike." She pauses, and leans forward again. "You going to make it worth my while if I do?"


The man's feet scrape across the road as he makes his way through the stalls and toward the edges where the actual buildings live. One of his hands holds onto a strap that's attached to a duffel, the duffel being a wonderful olive green in color with stains upon it. His clothes look well lived in, or at least well traveled in. His opposite hand holds a small cylinder between his index and middle fingers. It has an orange glowing tip to it and with a click of his thumb to the back of it, he knocks free some of the ash at the head of it. His hand pulls up, taking a solid drag from the cigarette as his feet continue to push him to the outskirts.


Carmen blinks once or twice, slowly. "Yes, of course... I'm not asking you to do anything illegal. All we'd ask is that you go there, have a look around, see if the ship is docked there, just do some listening and watching. Find out what the atmosphere is like, and whether you think we would be wasting our time to contact the local authorities about our stolen property. And, of course if you *happen* to hear anything about the fellow that we think is in possession of the ship, we'd be glad to hear that too. But we wouldn't want you to put yourself at risk." she explains, absently tapping the pads of her thumbs together. Carmen is a small woman, ot quite five feet tall (when standing anyway) with a mop of blonde curls and features given to smiling. She's currently dressed in a pair of denim cutoffs, a neon green tank top and brown flip-flops. A pair of sunglasses are perched atop her head. "We'll pay you two hundred credits up front, and a bonus if you actually find anything out there that leads to the recovery of our property. To be clear.. we are not asking you to recover the ship or confront anyone about it. All we want is information."


Saienne frowns deeply, her crowsfeet wrinkling. Her head tips down, the brim of the hat hiding all expression. "I'm just trying to be careful," she says quietly. "You understand?" Her voice is a little muffled. "They'll have their gorram eyes on me, and I ain't comfortable with that." She shakes, like a dog coming up out of a river would shake. The feather dips and bobs and it's a small miracle that the hat stays firmly in place. When Carmen mentions the fee, Saienne looks up again. "That's generous," she says. "For information." It is clear from her expression that she is tempted by the offer.


A coupled more foot steps, then a boot drags across the the ground with a scraping sound. The sort of gravel on asphalt noise as his head is turning about, looking to the left and right and his eyes following in suit. Dyre's mouth pulls to a minor grimace as he pulls the cigarette up to his lips once more to take another drag upon it. The end flares into a bright orange, the smoke quelling for a moment until he finishes the inhale. Holding it in his lungs the cigarette drops back down to his side and he turns in place, the same scraping noise as his whole body turns, looking. Until he catches sight of it finally, letting out the gray smoke into the air so that it can dissipate into the ether.
Dyre sees a couple people out front of the shop, one in neon green the other-- a hat with a feather. I know that feather. Where was it from...? His eyes narrow, the grimace still upon his lips, looking at that hat with a solid intent to try and remember who owned that hat. His feet are carrying him toward the owner, so one way or another it'll probably be answered soon.


"Oh, certainly." Carmen says, "I wouldn't suggest it if I thought it would cause a problem." She smiles in a good-natured fashion, fingers unlacing so she can lift a hand to scratch behind one ear. "It could be said that Freehold might just be the one place in the 'verse where they *won't* have their eyes on you..." she suggests, with a little shrug. "But you don't have to decide right now. Take your time, and if you decide you want the job just stop by the shop and let us know." She nods a little bit at the mention of it being generous for information. "Our ship is valuable to us. It's been outfitted with a forge so that Kal can work from it. We could buy another ship but.. putting another forge in is just plain costly. Plus, the ship has sentimental value. We miss her." She smiles a bit sadly at that. Carmen doesn't seem to be aware of the stranger with the duffle heading her way, but the security fellow nearby does. He studies Dyre as the man approaches with watchful brown eyes.


"I ain't traditionally been motivated by lucre," Saienne says - although her subtext says something else entirely. "But getting the business back would mean..." She tails off. "Well, it would mean being self-sufficient again, ain't that so?" she turns to watch the ships and shuttles clustering Eavesdown, to the bustle of business. "Sentimental, is that so? I reckon I can relate to that and all." She breathes a deep breath, a shudder that runs through her from quivering feather to toe. "Ain't no reason to wait. Ain't got nothing else to keep me busy." She reaches out a hand for Carmen to shake. "Unless you want to do some more research first?" As she is speaking, she sees that the security guard's attention has been diverted. She follows the direction of his gaze and sees Dyre approaching. It is a vaguely familiar face. "Good gorram," Saienne says, more or less under her breath. "See what I mean. Eyes everywhere."


Dyre sees the man as well and his gaze slowly starts to switch to him instead. Staring back at him with years of his own. His mouth pulls into a dry smile and the hand pulls up once more. He starts to take a drag upon it once more, lighting it up with the orange ember. He lets the smoke out in a gray cloud as he talks to the people now in front of him, "You're telling me, I just get back on this planet a day ago and I run into someone." His eyes shift down toward Saienne as he talks, a slow motion, as they settle toward her eyes in response.
The thought is broken, the comment back to her 'Good gorram' being nothing but a passing phase. He rolls the cigarette's filter upon his thumb, pinching it between thumb and index finger and with a flick sends it flying off into the street. For any that were watching, there would be an explosion of sparks as the embers impacted first. "But I'm actually looking for a Carmen - and I've heard that she works at Kal's Custom Weapons." As he says the name of the shop, his head nods in its direction.


"Well, you've already admitted to being an ex-con, if you've got even worse skeletons in the closet, I'm probably better off not knowing." Carmen says to Saienne, blue eyes  sparkling with amusement. When the hand is offered, she reaches over to slap palms and shakes the other woman's hand. "If you really want to rebuild your reputation, think of this as a step in the right direction. Prove to us that you're reliable and won't just run off with the money never to be seen again... we'll send more work your way. Even after we get our ship back." she promises. Then she's rising to her feet, moments graceful. "Do you prefer credits or cash? I'd have to visit the bank for cash, but credits I have on hand. Just have to step inside to grab a credstick." She snags her PDA from the cup holder while she's at it, stuffing it in her pocket. Right about then, she notices the direction Saienne's attention has drifted and turns to look toward the approaching fellow, offering him a smile and a little finger-wiggle of a wave. Her eyes follow the arc of the cigarette butt as it flies toward the street. "That would be me." she says, a little absently, before wandering off to pick up the butt. She grinds it against the ground to make sure it's firmly out, then brings it back toward the little gathering outside the shop.


"I ain't no one you need to care about," Saienne says firmly, as Dyre approaches. At Carmen's words, she looks a little offended. "I ain't never run off with nothing that I wasn't supposed to have." She waves her hand dismissively. "Least, not anything I knew outright to be dubious. Honour and reputation's the only thing I got to trade on. I ain't going to do anything to blacken that further." A beat, as she considers. "Credits are fine - ain't going to take much to wake up my accounts." She looks entirely relieved when Dyre turns his attention to Carmen - and then immediately concerned as the cogs whirr and she realises it is actually her new employer, the one off retrieving the cigarette butt, who is under scrutiny.


Dyre's eyebrows raise a little in an arc as he actually watches Carmen head off. His head tilts to the side and one of the eyebrows drops giving him a bemused expression. His mouth pulls into a grin, the smile of it reaching into his eyes. "That would be a first..." He comments, coughing a little to clear his throat and then shaking his head from side to side. A chuckle was rising and he finally continues with his reasoning, "I hear you run a custom shop, you do blades - I could use one."
Dyre's attention shifts back toward Saienne then, seeming to regain a reason for what he was looking at her for in the first place. His eyes shift first, head next till he's looking toward Saienne fully, his voice comes next - a little gravely from smoking and probably yelling, "Don't I know you? It's been going on 8-years now. But your feather, it looks so familiar."


Pocketing the butt, Carmen hooks her thumbs in her belt loops and stands there for a moment, regarding Dyre curiously as he explains the reason for his inquiry. "Ah! Well, you've come to the right place then. Kal forges the finest steel in the 'verse'." Somehow, she manages to project this as a fact and not mere braggery. "I need to step inside, why don't you both join me?" she suggests, with a little jerk of her head toward the shop. Though, before heading inside she takes a moment to fold up her camping chair. Leaving furniture unattended on the docks, even outside a reputable local business, is a good way to lose it.


Saienne stands up from the chair and, echoing Carmen's actions, folds it too. "Looks like you two have some business to conduct," she says with a crooked smile. "I'll come by again later." Saienne tips the brim of her hat at Dyre. "I've been around Eavesdown plenty," she says. "Used to fly with the Grace O'Malley." She breathes in deeply at that. "Although that was a long while ago now." Saienne looks Dyre up and down. "Eight years would be about right." She stands holding the chair, then, unsure of quite who she should hand it to.