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Who: Tara (OS19 Wichita) and OPEN. Feel free to start your own bar threads!
Where: OS19 bar, "The Osiris Oasis"
When: Today.
Warnings: None.

[OOC: Wichita is part of a humanoid alien race known as Syranids -- I'm totally borrowing from Mass Effect and Warhammer 40k. Their bodies naturally promote the generation of static electricity, rarely capable of harming folks, but often able to scare away potential opponents. They're like fireflies, hurrrr. Uncommon enough that their natural defense system often works, but common enough that she is armed to the teeth.

She dabbles here and there in various shady trades, her specialties being drug distribution to the Syranid community and procuring unpaid dues from 'clients' of Sirius Black. She's notorious for having been in and out of prison on multiple planets and stations, an for her brutal methods of interrogation for getting folks to pay their unpaid debts to Black. Tara is charismatic when promoting various illegal substances and other items, and able to turn it on at any moment -- basically the same level of deception she possesses when she's herself on the Barge.

PB is Jia Jem as Jack from Mass Effect 2.]

Orbital Station 19 was one of Tara's favorite places in the universe. It was so easy to disappear in to the diverse crowd of residents; something that Tara desperately needed right now. Twelve unanswered warrants and sixteen unaddressed charges scattered across the universe. She figured between all of the jail time -- subtracting any potential charges from escaping prison -- she should only owe half an explanation for all of those allegations brought against her. Even still, that kind of logic didn't appeal to any of the governments she had managed to piss off, and so she had found a home on Orbital Station 19 for the past three years. It wasn't so bad. There were plenty of her kind to make it feel like home, and plenty of folk in general to make them an easy way to profit.

Today was a day of relaxation. No limbs to be lost at the blade of her knife. No knee-caps to be shattered by the bullets in her gun. Just her, watered down gin, and some decent human jazz. She could dig that vibe. Jazz promoted relaxation. Tara took another sip of the gin and scanned the busy window behind the bartender, people watching. This was the life.

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Slater was in the crowd, a pirate, not particularly vicious, just enough to get by in this game. He's smooth, smiling with the customers, flirting with women and selling to men.

This is place is clearly like a kind of home to him too.

Slater was a semi-familiar character to Tara -- not at all above her enjoyment. His comfortableness with his position as scoundrel and pirate was of constant enjoyment to her. Anyone who didn't pretend to be anything they were not was always welcomed around this part of OS19.

Plopping down at the seat next to him, she watched his animated conversation with one particularly beautiful woman. Whether or not the story he was telling was real was up for debate; Tara just enjoyed listening.

Slater was retelling his adventure with seven Kljorian raiders (there had been three) having surrounded and how he used a old scrapyard to throw them off only to be attacked by a living ship the size of a planet (it had been no bigger than a moderately sized transport) when he adjusted his position to include Tara, only too happy to have his audience grow.

"It had clearly been abandoned by its owner, and it weren't too pleased to have it's broodin' interrupted."

Stephanie was hard at work two seats down on a small compact device that may or may not have been highly illegal. It was hard to tell with these things when they were all taken apart.

It isn't until something zaps her and she yelps in surprise that she looks up and narrows her eyes at the alien.

"Hey! You mind scooting down a few seats? You're going to fry my hard drive!"

Techies were always a problem with Syranids. Very few of them were even able to work with it without eventually frying what valuable hardware made the damn stuff function. This made them ideal yes-men and bounty hunters; they were rarely educated in social and technical sciences, which were usually always married in one.

It tested her temper to be talked to in the way the woman had addressed her, but on the other hand, the glimpse that she had caught made it clear that the techie may not have the most social grace. Tara decided to give her a few more strikeouts before deciding her honor and self-worth was being tested.

Waving her hand lazily about in a sort of apathetic way, she mumbled, "Sure, sure, whatever you want, nerd.", and began to scoot down a few seats.

"This 'nerd' keeps your fragging world running, Sparky," she muttered to herself, turning her attention back to the hardware. She connected a few wires, and sure enough lights started dancing across the entire thing. It wasn't too badly damaged.

"Get some damned rubber on you and maybe you'd be able to use crap like this."

The laugh that came from Tara was stiff and unflattering. It wasn't something she did often, to her credit.

"Rubber? You think that's all we need to get close to that shit you make a career out of?" Tara had moved far enough away that she had to raise her voice, though it sounded almost jovial. "It's more than that. This organic electricity that we generate is a bitch to contain. Don't know how you geeks and freaks spend all day inside sittin' down, anyway." Taking a sip of something that had been haphazardly thrown her way by the bartender, she felt the burn in her mouth and made a face. Whatever it was, it was more than she was accustomed to.

"By not being reduced to the stone age by our choice in fashion, that's how," she shot back, never one to back down from an argument. She disconnected the wires that made the thing light up before anybody could get a good look at it and set back to work, still muttering angrily to herself when the barkeep slammed her drink next to her and shot her a nasty look.

Edited 2011-06-20 12:27 (UTC)

Black is out on the town with his posse, because that's how he rolls. Keeping close to him was Zarbo, his ten foot tall manservant/bodyguard/BFF, who dragged about a dazed looking half-human female. Every time she moved to protest or even groan, Zarbo sprayed her in the face with a tiny, heart-shaped vial. When the burst of pink spray hit her nostrils, she grinned and went right back into her stupor. She might even be a little bit in love with Zarbo. With his rolls, girth, and three dozen eyes, who could blame her?

There seemed to be a lot of ~~cattle~~ new blood in the OS19 on this fine evening. Black took in the bar scene from behind his new pair of Lenzez. This pair was Kaleidoscope Plus, which not only made everything he looked at vibrantly colorful, but it also scanned the room for weapons, authorities, and suspicious activity. This was his third stop of the night, but it wouldn't be his last. He shrugged off his floor length purple fur coat and handed it over to one of his posse members.

[So Black is a flashy pimp of a dealer. It's kind of all LOL drugs what? He has lackeys do the actual WORK for him. He spends his time scoping out cool new drugs, strutting around the station, and stumbling upon slaves for Tiberius. Also, he's not even remotely English. Yeah. Stay thirsty, my friends.]

Edited 2011-06-18 05:35 (UTC)

Tara noticed immediately when Black had entered; the bar's entire tone began to change. The music halted and immediately switched from jazz to Black's more preferential genres, the drinks were mixed more quietly, and the guests began to chatter nervously. If she didn't know he had just arrived, she imagined it wouldn't be so apparent. She knew how he operated, though, and who he controlled.

It was only a matter of time before she approached him, certain that the majority of his pleasure business was taken care of. He needed a certain amount of relaxation to be in the mood to talk cash and product, and she felt good about the vibe he was allowing to circulate in the bar.

Swaggering past Zarbo and giving him a familiar tap on the elbow, she stood to the side of Black, waiting for him to address her.

Black was tapping away on the light-up comm device embedded in his palm when he glanced up and saw Tara. "Hey girl!" How he addressed his subordinates was often a matter of mood, and tonight he was in a jovial one. It wasn't uncommon for him to smack someone across the face or knee them in the junk on approach, just because he was pissed off. But he was rarely that way with Tara. She beat the crap out of people who had wronged him, after all, so how could he not be totally cool with that?

He finished sending a message, slid his finger across his palm, and the neon lights disappeared into his skin. He flicked the Lenzes up and peered at her with freshly dyed, purple and gold eyes. "How goes?"

Though he wasn't without his flaws, Black was easy to work for as long as you were aware of how he operated. His mood swings were things to avoid altogether -- not to be seen or associated with his distaste. Never fail hard enough to allow him to have anything to hold over your head or recall when he needed leverage. It wasn't a difficult set of rules to remember, and it all boiled down to one thing: failure is not an option.

Her smile came easily enough. This shouldn't be a difficult proposition.

"The community's growing. I need something new, exciting. I'll turn you the quickest profit you've ever had." There was a hint of a smirk, she couldn't help it. He had to have heard of the new boat that carried one hundred to two hundred of her kind to OS19.

[Assume awesome happenings of profit and bad assery?

Also, let me know if I'm needed ~LATER AT PORT~]

Rex was leaning over the bar, fiddling with his communicator as he nursed a drink of... Well. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it came highly recommended by the rather distinctive indigo woman sitting beside him, easily distinguishable by the mass of thin tendrils coming out of her head.

It was quite a look. She even had small, almost imperceptible scales. Rex couldn't help but stare a little in appreciation.

No, no, stop. He was supposed to be figuring out what happened to his former-girlfriend-now-nebulous-figure-of-great-affection, whose presence was completely missing from the Network. They were supposed to have dinner, and he couldn't allow himself to get distracted by a potentially reptilian humanoid, even if she did have the cutest little fangs and he had to wonder if she was venomous--

Rex cleared his throat and ducked his head to keep his attention on his communicator. He'd sent a few private messages to Wichita, hoping they'd reach her even if she had fallen overboard, and he'd even sent one to her inmate, just in case. This wasn't a small port, and he'd have a hell of a time trying to find her if she really did lose her mind and go native.

Or if she'd been kidnapped.

He really hoped she hadn't been kidnapped.

Tara had just finished her second job of the day and required refreshment. It wasn't that the work itself was difficult, but the waiting and tracking varied from day-to-day. She hadn't expected this much trouble from both of her potential clients.

Rushing to the bar as if her life depended on it, she made her way to the bar. Some kid was in the way of the ordering station, attention on some sort of electronic device. While generally conscientious of her ability's propensity to destroy precious hardware, she wasn't in the mood to sit at the far end of the bar and wait for a drink while this guy played MarioQuest26. Plopping down next to him, a few quick sparks turned to a jumping, blue light show that hopped between her body and his device. She ignored it, and flagged the bartender down.

"Oi, can I get some gorram service in this place?"

Rex flinched and dropped his communicator onto the bar when the sparks shot between the device and the woman beside him. He gave her a perplexed look, glancing between her and the communicator, then swiped it back into his hands and shoved it into his pocket.

"Think you could keep the sparks to yourself?" he asked, voice slightly snide, because he wasn't fond of being spooked and ruining his manly man facade. He picked up his drink and took a sip-- no, gulp.

Looking sidelong at the man, she shrugged with a slightly wicked grin. "Sorry, tiger, I got no control over the stuff. Ought to move over before it fries your little box, there. You're standin' in the prime spot to nab a drink from these busy, hard-working folks, and believe me, the traffic here's not the kind you want attention from."

Turning back to the bartender, she raised her voice even louder. "The hell I gotta do to get a drink around here? Black's gonna get a headfulla complaints about this place if you can't even get a goddamn drink on the table!"

Rex rolled his eyes and took another drink. "I think I can handle it, but thanks for the concern." So, so dry. It'd been a long time since Rex was free to get off the Barge act like a prick, and given everything that had happened recently, he wasn't in the mood to play polite and docile. If she had a problem with where he was standing, she could move.

At least, that was what he figured until he heard her say the name 'Black'.

"Black?" Pause. Oh please, please be an amazing coincidence; please be Sirius Black. "That name's familiar."

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Open to all and sundry

WIN

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Like a boss

SIRIUS LIKE A BOSS

Re: O HAI SUBORDINATE, WHAT UP?

JUST CHILLIN'. DOING YR DIRTY WORK.

Re: JUST CHILLIN'. DOING YR DIRTY WORK.

~LATER AT PORT~

~HOKAY~

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