Hᴀɴs Gʀᴜʙᴇʀ [Dɪᴇ Hᴀʀᴅ] (
exceptionalthief) wrote in
lastvoyageslogs2017-08-15 02:03 pm
Entry tags:
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Who: Hans Gruber and Anyone!
What: Weapon procurement mostly, maybe also a nice suit and a few other luxuries.
Where: DS9, any of the locations mentioned
When: Throughout the port
Warnings: None likely?
Ports are not a thing Hans has experienced as yet on the Barge; it's only been fairly recently he's heard of the possibility at all, with the very idea of it a bit of a surprise. Inmates were allowed to leave the ship? What were the chances of a successful escape? He doesn't make any inquiries in that respect (for obvious reasons), instead spending some time searching back through the network until he finds mention of a stopover in Stockholm a while back—which is very encouraging needless to say, that being Earth and all, and a familiar-ish time period to boot.
So, imagine his disappointment when he finds out the present port is a 24th century space station, orbiting a planet in a galaxy he's never heard of. Well, doesn't that just figure. All right, so the idea of escaping suddenly became a bit less desirable, but possibly he could still profit from this somehow.
After a mostly uneventful and unproductive stroll around the Promenade squinting at futuristic alien weirdness, it doesn't take Hans long to find the local watering hole, a place called Quark's Bar, and settle in for a while, sipping a green beverage known as Aldebaran whiskey while he keeps his eyes and ears open for any information about the possible procurement of a handgun, if such things still exist in the future.
After getting a few vague tips, he finds himself in Garak's Clothiers getting more specific tips, helped along in part by his purchase of an expensive not-too-weird-looking suit (at least it's a perfect fit), eventually ending up in the Docking Ring, where he meets a contact in an abandoned cargo bay, and after payment is made, becomes the proud new owner of a... phaser. Which hopefully, he can figure out how to use.
What: Weapon procurement mostly, maybe also a nice suit and a few other luxuries.
Where: DS9, any of the locations mentioned
When: Throughout the port
Warnings: None likely?
Ports are not a thing Hans has experienced as yet on the Barge; it's only been fairly recently he's heard of the possibility at all, with the very idea of it a bit of a surprise. Inmates were allowed to leave the ship? What were the chances of a successful escape? He doesn't make any inquiries in that respect (for obvious reasons), instead spending some time searching back through the network until he finds mention of a stopover in Stockholm a while back—which is very encouraging needless to say, that being Earth and all, and a familiar-ish time period to boot.
So, imagine his disappointment when he finds out the present port is a 24th century space station, orbiting a planet in a galaxy he's never heard of. Well, doesn't that just figure. All right, so the idea of escaping suddenly became a bit less desirable, but possibly he could still profit from this somehow.
After a mostly uneventful and unproductive stroll around the Promenade squinting at futuristic alien weirdness, it doesn't take Hans long to find the local watering hole, a place called Quark's Bar, and settle in for a while, sipping a green beverage known as Aldebaran whiskey while he keeps his eyes and ears open for any information about the possible procurement of a handgun, if such things still exist in the future.
After getting a few vague tips, he finds himself in Garak's Clothiers getting more specific tips, helped along in part by his purchase of an expensive not-too-weird-looking suit (at least it's a perfect fit), eventually ending up in the Docking Ring, where he meets a contact in an abandoned cargo bay, and after payment is made, becomes the proud new owner of a... phaser. Which hopefully, he can figure out how to use.

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"That looks toxic, Gruber."
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"I rather thought it might have some resemblance to crème de menthe at first glance," he says, taking a small sip and lifting his eyebrows in a shrug. "I was wrong."
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"Creme de menthe is for queers anyway," Harry says, blandly. He's brought over a glass of something dark and slightly bitter that bites the back of his throat.
"You been keeping yourself busy?"
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But he simply says, "Too much of that makes my teeth ache anyway. This, on the other hand, is actually whiskey. Much more appropriate to drink to excess in bars."
"Not really," he adds in response to the question. At least, up until this distraction."
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"Mm. You done any shopping?"
Harry gives him a brief, meaningful look over the rim of his glass which says he's not talking about the stores on the Promenade.
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He swirls the emerald colored liquid around in his glass.
"What about you? Pick up anything nice?"
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"Not yet." He scoffs quietly. "Give me any bar on Earth and I could tell you in five minutes, who's in the know. But this..."
He shakes his head. This is not Earth.
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"Perseverance, my friend," he says amiably, the whiskey and being surrounded by aliens making him a little more companionable than usual. "I feel optimistic in this case."
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"Likewise," Harry says calmly. "I imagine we got about a week here? Time enough, time enough."
He sips his drink.
"I'll pass on anything worth hearing, if you'll do the same courtesy?"
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"Any chance of getting left behind?" Not that he's all too sure he'd want that.
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"Nah. Once the Admiral decides it's time to leave - week's a guess, mind, it's about average - he'll scoop us all up no matter where we happen to be."
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"Yeah, he's a cunt," Harry ages readily. "There's a few places I'd have like to have been left to my own devices."
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Harry nods over a sip of his drink.
"Yeah. I'd take anywhere on Earth, frankly, as little as we get to see any version of it I'd recognise. Only got to hop on a plane, don't you."
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"Enough gelt gets you anywhere," Harry says, confidently. "Don't matter the time or place. All you need is cold hard cash and someone who wants it."
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She gives the man a curious look. His green drink matches her green hair. "That any good? I've had some bad space drinks in my day, so kind of want to know what I'm getting into here before I order something." Her tone is friendly.
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Glancing up at the woman addressing him, his initial impression was that she fit right into that varied species category, realizing after a moment it was the hair color giving him that impression; it's not as though her skin was green.
"It's fairly potent, but smooth," he replies, his accent German, his English precise. "They call it Aldebaran whiskey."
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"Hmm.." Almost as if she's considering -- truth is, she's already made up her mind. "Welp, I'm goin' in." She declares before ordering some herself. She starts with a shot of it, and once that's tossed back quickly, she turns back to him.
"I'm Lorna Dane." She extends a hand, officially introducing herself.
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"What constitutes a bad space drink? So I know what to avoid," he adds conversationally, with a little smile.
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"Why not simply order a rum and coke?" he asks, ever practical. "Or a generic version thereof."
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"...While I had the chance there in space with some X-Men -- not aliens, a team I was on -- I wanted to be more 'adventurous'." Complete with air quote marks at the last word, yes. "There are limits, apparently, as that was too much adventure for my soul."
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Travel into outer space? Yes, good. Drink a beverage potentially made from insects? That's a big no.
"Something tells me you're unlikely to be a fan of deep-fried tarantulas in that case."