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"Well, in that case," Valerie says dryly, "Congratulations, one of you can be our new medic." She steps out from the gallery she'd taken cover in, offering a hand briefly to each of the two newcomers, before turning her attention to the dead suits, claiming herself a pistol and ammo. "Better late than never, Cap'n," she winks, handing Anton back his older, more battered sidearm, and trying to figure out how to stop the earbugs from transmitting.
Not too bright. That's good, Val thinks, ducking into a gallery and trying to yank Anton out of the line of fire as she does so.
Jumping back only slightly as the two women crash through the mangled vent, Valerie decides to take advantage of the distraction. "Good, the backup's here!" she calls to no-one in particular. "Best you be running now, boys. These two you don't want to tangle with!"
When Anton frisks her, for a moment Valerie assumes he's looking for his sidearm, strapped to the small of her back and hidden (mercifully) by a lightweight jacket. What are you doing, Captain? she asks herself in bewilderment, watching the suits closely, trying to read them for any sign of hostility, a distraction already forming in the back of her mind.
I'm back, folks! Vacation was pretty great, and it's time for me to kick jetlag in the butt and start posting again. Bear with me!
And sloooooowly getting back into the swing of things...
The Sweet Doomed Angel:
"Tell you what, first thing I do when I'm getting paid is calling a stop to some rock with a few nice boutiques, and get some new duds," Val mutters, shaking her head. "We will be getting paid soon, right? I was expecting a little more than a bit of slinky satin from the last job." With the confidence with which she speaks, particularly of her pay, it's almost as if she's meant to be part of the crew rather than a tag-along. Anton:
As Anton heads to the cockpit, she follows, catching him in one of the many small corridors and halls of the ship (the one with the leaky pipe and the clean rectangle where some godawful drawing had hung not too long ago by what had once been a form of adhesive but had likely been reduced to sheer stubbornness, and which she suspected now resided in Aurora's room). "She's not human upstairs, captain," she reminds him with perhaps a little more edge to her voice than is necessary. "Don't think I didn't catch you staring at her back there. As it is, 'Ora reckons the two of you are beginning an 'inevitable courtship phase' or something - left me a rather detailed paper on the subject - and who you choose to fool around with may be none of my business, true. But while her body's human, sure enough, what makes her tick sure ain't. Don't go leering at the poor girl." Her demeanor changing as she takes a step back, half-turning to head back to the common area, she looks almost apologetic - as apologetic as someone who's been bending and stretching the truth since she set foot on the Angel can look, anyway. "Sorry for stealin' your clothes again," she adds stiffly, staring at the wall. "You'll get 'em back eventually. Or I'll just keep taking 'em until you've only got those pants left. You wear 'em well." With a smirk, she turns to head back down the hall. "Holler if you need me to 'make the talky' to anyone," she calls over her shoulder. "I've got some explaining to do to 'Ora..." Aurora: Val doesn't choose to make her presence known straight away, instead electing to stand in the doorway until Aurora notices (which could take some time). Once spotted, she fixes eye contact, in the manner usually reserved for marks. "So. Care explaining to me exactly why you think I'm the 'courtship expert', why you saw fit to send me that rather detailed paper, and, oh yes, how you know about The Perils of Pamela?" After a moment of long silence, her face contorting, she adds, "And, if you'd be so kind, whether you thought Pam should have been with the rancher or the tailor's son?"
The Sweet Doomed Angel: Valerie's first port of call is to the captain's quarters, specifically Anton's wardrobe, eager to get out of the dress and into something for comfortable. After leaving the offending garment on a hanger - it was rather nice, she had to admit, even if wearing it was akin to torture - she helps herself to a shirt and the loosest pair of pants she can find, which are still less-than-flattering, but better than nothing. "So, Sirus," she says to the engineer as the crew prepares for the next trip, "Mind reminding us exactly why we're flying out to this particularly charming destination?"
I'm sorry for my absence. A few things have come up that have made it difficult for me to maintain focus and get into character. My ex has continued harassing me, including sending a string of rather explicit messages, and it's escalated to the point where police involvement sounds like the way to go. On a lighter note, I've also been getting ready for my first solo overseas trip, which brings its own set of stresses. I'm trying to get my head back in the game, but right now, I'm scattered and not feeling particularly safe, so I'd appreciate your patience.
So what does it say about us that Val was inspired by (not based on, but inspired by) this looker? :P
Val's about 5'8", on the curvy side, with a few freckles and a small scar through her left eyebrow, otherwise looks like her avatar, with longer hair. Last seen wearing black slacks, heavy boots, a light khaki jacket, and a white men's shirt, untucked, with the top two buttons undone. :P
Getting Paid:
"Let's get this over with," Val mutters, stepping into the Stylotron and getting changed accordingly. "Right, so what know, Fran-swah?"
Gettin' Paid:
"Anything to get me out of your clothes," Val comments dryly to Anton, nudging the captain in the ribs. "I'll even go next, if nobody else bites. No skirts," she adds to the robot, with a warning look. "We seem to do a lot of runnin', and skirts ain't too great for that. Our friend there," she nods to the AI, "just wants something nice and simple. Never liked much attention. You want to do fancy, you can do it on 'Ora."
Val's somewhere between "we should keep her with us so we know where she is" and "we should leave her on the Angel to avoid questions". Also, waiting on an answer to the same question Aurora and Sirus have asked.
"Told ya'll I know a guy!" Let's get this show on the road =)
"Not the best," Val shrugs, "But I know a guy who might know a guy."
"Contraband? Illegal cargo?" Valerie replies, her demure, slightly confused tone juxtaposed with her wry smirk. "Not at all, officer. Just a few crates of foodstuffs." She raises an eyebrow at Anton, mouths, Nuclear weapons? and rolls her eyes, allowing herself a silent chuckle.
"It's harder to work my magic over the comms than it is to do so in person, Cap," Valerie grimaces, relinquishing the seat again. "Make sure you get us out of here in one piece, and hopefully get us someplace I won't be shot at again."
Valerie slips into the captain's chair and leans closer to the comm, eyes fixed on it as if making eye contact with the other speaker. "Charlie Foxtrot Zero Niner, this is the Sweet Doomed Angel. No idea where you're getting your intel from, as we're outbound and have no medical emergencies at all on board. Is that clear?"
Sorry, website was down during my prime posting hours. I'll get to it tonight. -Posted with Wayfinder
Val glances at her comm, sighs, and heads up to the cockpit. "Whose eyes do you need me to pull the wool over now?" she mutters.
"Welcome to the Black, kid," Valerie grins, placing a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder and shooing a warning glance at Aurora. "Personal space, 'Ora. Folks don't much like strange people getting up in their faces, 'specially when they talk about eyeballs."
With 'Elizabeth':
"Right," Val mutters, shaking her head in disgust. "Well, I know the Captain's talking about dropping you off somewhere, but if I have anything to say about it, it won't be anyplace they can find you easily, if at all." It's at that point her comm starts buzzing in her pocket, and she sighs as she checks it. "Speak of the devil," she mutters. "Looks like I'm needed out there. Just lay low, and if you hear anyone at the door who doesn't knock five times first, just hide under the bed, alright?" "What seems to be the problem, boys?" Valerie asks, striding into the cargo bay just as Anton finishes his second frantic message. "Already gone through our routine inspection not twenty minutes ago; don't tell me you need to keep overseeing the entire process? Sure you got better things to do with your time."
Per Anton's instructions, Val keeps the new girl in her quarters. Finding it difficult to talk to someone without a name, she takes to calling her 'Elizabeth', promising to pinch a data pad from someone else and help her choose a different name later - "Plenty o' names out there, and you can pick anything what takes your fancy," she points out with a grin. In the meantime, though, there were card games to be played. Of course, someone with a computerized brain would pick up the rules relatively quickly, which is why the time quickly turns to Val teaching her how to cheat. "So, what can you tell me about that AIGT program?" she asks between hands.
"So you're an AI, then?" Val asks, raising her eyebrows as if in surprise despite Sirus' earlier heads-up. "Artificial brain in an organic body, huh? So what was so bad about it? Just didn't like being used as an object, or was there something more terrible going on?" Glancing around the room, she adds, "How 'bout I untie those laces, take you to the kitchen, get you fed and you can tell me more, 'kay?"
"'Ora can't make up a lie like that to save herself - no offense," Val shrugs. "Sure sounds as though you said that." A smile plays at the corner of her mouth, before she turns back to the girl. While watching her face and body language for any signs she might be less than entirely honest, she pats her reassuringly on the arm. "Don't you worry now; I'm sure our Doc can fix you up just fine. Don't want to go puttin' you places GalSec can find you easily. Reckon you can tell me why they want you so bad? And why you came to our modest vessel?"
Sighing, Valerie nods to Dax and strides past Anton, crouching in front of the girl. "Hey," she says softly, trying to keep her voice gentle and calm. "You said you don't have a name, but I do. I'm Valerie, but most folks call me Val, so you can as well, alright?" She leans in a little closer. "Now, the captain's talking of throwing you to GalSec, but it seems there's folks here who don't want that to happen, so I don't want you to fret too much. Just stay calm, and answer our questions, and we'll treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, okay?"
Sorry to see you go! Feel free to lurk, and I'll see you in other games :P
The Ceresian's Dive:
"Right you are," Valerie agrees, letting Puck know where the Angel is docked. After gathering the leftovers in convenient takeaway containers that are even mostly clean, she motions to Tavid and heads back to the ship. Upon entering the common room, she stands still for a few moments, trying to take in the scene before her, before handing out the leftovers and perching on a chair. "So would someone care to tell me what in the black is going on here?"
Those at the bar: Shaking her head, Valerie decides that wrapping up the business can wait until the show's over.
"Mr. Puck," Valerie sighs, pressing her fingers to her left temple, "I assure you this is not normal behaviour for our crew. We are trained professionals, after all."
Within the span of a few minutes, Dax is off on his datapad, Anton and Sirus have left in a rush, and Noreen is on the stage dressed as a Space Pirate Queen. Valerie stares at her drink suspiciously for a few moments, before knocking at back and tapping her finger on the rim of the glass in the universal sign for 'another of these, please'. "Neither did I," she says in bewilderment, shaking her head as she digs into her Kevakian curry. "You seem to know quite a lot about ancient music, though," she points out. "How do you feel it stands up to today's offerings?"
"You didn't say what's got GalSec in a tizzy," Valerie points out, barely touching the menu. "Don't suppose that's information you'd be privy to, Puck?" When Anton asks What could go wrong? she's tempted to remind him of the last job, but thinks better of it for now. Best allow the contact to think of them as highly-skilled professionals.
"Well, Puck-" Valerie begins, before cutting off her words and staring as the man takes her drink. After a moment, she decides to let it go, though doesn't touch the drink again. "One of our number ended up under the table last night, and as such couldn't be with us today, and the other seems to have been swept away on a tide of adoring fans. Rest assured, we can handle business without them."
This is the most absurd game I've ever been in (yes, Salsa, even more absurd than that one I played Vivian in) and I'm loving every moment of it. Aurora, you're killing me.
Valerie takes a moment to consider the fate she's abandoned Noreen to. Only a moment, though. She'll be fine, she tells herself, taking a swig of her drink. When the contact sits down, she nods at him over her mug. "That'd be us, Mr...?"
"Sorry, boys, got things to see, people to do, you know how it is," Valerie chuckles, her biggest fake smile plastered across her face. She tries to drag Noreen from the stage, but when the other woman puts her foot in it, her opportunistic tendencies kick in, and her grin turns all too real. "She actually does look like Ori, doesn't she? Uncanny resemblance! Hey, why don't you go see if Tim has that costume; I'm sure she'll sing again all dolled up. As for me, though, I really must be going..." When she slips back to the table where the others are seated, she's smirking, all but rubbing her hands in anticipation. -Posted with Wayfinder
"Wouldn't want to keep Mr. Johnson waiting, would you?" Valerie puts in, jumping on Anton's phony explanation. "Very important man and all; why, if you keep us held up here much longer, he's likely to be very put out and, well, we'd have to tell him all about the fools who wouldn't let us in with what he wants!"
"I'm going to kill him," Valerie mutters to Noreen, glowering after Anton's retreating back. "I'm going to strangle him with his own tight pants. You can be my second-in-command when I shove his body out the airlock and take over the ship." Glancing toward the stage, she sighs, shaking her head. "Let's get this over with. At least I won't be embarassing myself quite as much as you, being your back-up."
I've previously mentioned that Valerie has a small hoard of trashy romance novels, the kind that use words like 'swollen' and 'turgid', which she managed to acquire before the drop-off of the last job. It's entirely possible one of them has been stashed in one of the common areas. Now to figure out how she feels about being assigned karaoke back-up...
Valerie arms herself lightly and simply with a handgun - more of a sidearm than anything else. She buckles it to her hip and spends a few moments in front of the mirror adjusting the sit of her jacket over it. She briefly considers sweet-talking one of the guys into lending her a coat, but decides against it. She was already borrowing the shirt and the gun; that would do for now.
Thirded. You won me over with "do things whole bunch more betterer".
Tasks look good to me. Aurora, that's sucky news. As I said elsewhere, I'm free if you need to vent to me about that s**%, but otherwise, just do what you need to do to get it sorted. Hope it works out quickly.
Valerie, as one of those infuriatingly active morning people, is already showered, dressed, and in the kitchen drinking synthetic tea when Anton staggers in. She watches in amusement as he downs his sludge, coughing politely and flicking her eyes down to remind him of his half-dressed state. It was such fun to watch him bolt from the room like that. Not having much else to do (that was one of the advantages of joining in the manner she did; she wasn't usually expected to do much), she simply wanders the ship, chatting with the crew and making sure everyone's in a good mood. In particular, she makes sure Aurora's sober - as sober as can be, anyway - and patiently begins explaining the effects that alcohol has on the body the morning after.
When Anton seeks her out, she smirks, leaning against the nearest wall and folding her arms over her chest (currently concealed in one of his shirts, unbuttoned to just below the collarbones). "Drunk enough that you can't remember," she points out. "Drunk enough that you thought giving Aurora a combination cube was a good idea - she's done a lot of babbling about 'applying the basic algorithmic principles' to just about everything. And drunk enough to leave Sirus in charge of closing the deal, when you know fully well that I would have been perfectly capable of convincing Zuckerman that our standard rate was seventeen thousand instead of fifteen." She sighs, shaking her hair back over her shoulders, her face growing more serious. "'Ora's hungover and hating the world right now, so I'm gonna go make sure she's alright. You better not go taking advantage of that girl, Captain. You know well as I do she ain't sure of how everything works outside of books. She may be all sixes and sevens, but I worry 'bout her."
Do I get points for knowing exactly what the important launch device was without clicking the link? :D
Valerie stays a little longer than Sirus, telling more tall tales over the rest of the meal. Many of them are of the former exploits of herself and the other crew members before they all came together, and many of them are, of course, heavily embellished. They're convincing enough, though - or perhaps it's just the wine increasing her confidence. When Sirus leaves, she does so as well, already mentally working on her words to Aurora.
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