Eriadu is where we catch Rimma

[Ereza]

"No," came the straight-faced reply of the Noghri.

Amore pursed her lips, eyebrows high in shock. She slowly -very slowly- turned away, immediately snapping on a cheery expression as the barkeep returned.

The barkeep glanced at the heated staring contest currently underway between the two Assassins before leaning down towards her, "Should I call security, Highness?"

"Actually," Amore responded, "I would very much like another round for myself and this gentleman. Oh, do you have any snacks? I'm feeling rather peckish and I'm loath to leave a warm seat for a restaurant."

"Nuts," replied the Keep, unamused and passing another glance at the pair.

"Thank you."

Drinks served cold, Amore lifted her own to Sarge, "Whiskey solidarity, I'm afraid, is as close as we'll get while my mother signs his paychecks. Cheers."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Exhaling slowly, right side of his mouth down-turned in apparent disgust, the man leveled a withering gaze at the Noghri. "Sorry for trying to be... personable.", he retorts dryly, eyes never leaving the xeno. Although he hadn't realized he was doing it, his right fist was clenching in a way that may trip the parasites embedded in his forearm.

Once those were out, well, that was the end of any good mood he was going to be in.

But to say he didn't hear Amore was an understatement; it was like she didn't really exist right now.

It was him and the Noghri, and that's all he could see.

 

[Ereza]

Statuesque as ever, Kefka remained vigilant.

"Hello?" Amore peered around the Noghri once again, curious as to the silence on the other end of the line. A frown formed on her lips as she looked from him to Sarge and back again.

Not again. She sighed, this time truly exasperated.

It wasn't the separation that got to her, Amore had no lack of social life. It was the strain it put on others. Palpable tension was not a taste she had ever liked, and in fact it made her nervous. Where she often buffered it with light-hearted humor, and usually it worked, there were times that it simply couldn't put out the fire of a slighted individual. She hoped this wasn't one of those times, despite how awkward this whole situation really was she was enjoying herself.

Clearing her throat loudly, she mustered up the remaining confidence she had.

"So!" she exclaimed much louder than she normally ever would, "You know my title, but I do not think I caught yours?"

And where are my nuts?

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Daggers crossed the distance between alien and human, and if it weren't for Amore raising her voice then the tension would have kept on growing. Clearing his throat, the man adjusted his seat so he could lean on the bar. "I've no title anymore. I used to be Assassin, then Sergeant Major, then Second Lieutenant, then Sergeant Major again, and now? Well, I'm just me. Call me Preacher."

It was a named he'd last used centuries ago, so it was safe; it was no longer tied to Sarge.

 

[Ereza]

"Preacher," the title was an odd one, but she was glad to hear it nevertheless. He was speaking again, which meant she could distract him from tall, grey and grumpy next to her.

"Interesting, what is it you Preach?" Amore perked a brow, he couldn't have a name like that without a reason.

"Nuts," the Barkeep returned, placing a bowl of mixed, salted nuts on the bar.

"Napkin?" the Princess mouthed to him with a placating look.

"...napkins," smirking, the Keep pushed a free-range dispenser down to her and moved off.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Death, I imagine." He retorts dryly, cradling the glass of the refilled drink that was now in front of him. "But mostly... I tend towards being good with words, I guess." Frankly, it was a nickname his uncle had given him years upon years ago when he had said grace for a large anniversary party.

Apparently he'd spoken quite well, and had seemed a natural.

So the name was coined.

But that was hardly an interesting story.

"Sorry I couldn't have a shade more interesting story for you."

 

[Ereza]

The Princess paused mid-sip, frowning slightly at his reply.

Death? What an awful thing to preach about. She supposed there were ways to make it less-than-depressing, but Amore felt a nagging doubt that this man spoke of the wonderous journey that death could be. Likely his sermons were far more dark. She coughed gently, glancing to the stain of lip-paint on the rim of her glass absently before looking upwards at the back of Kefka's head.

What a pair these two would make, she thought to herself as that sip finally made it to her lips. The sour taste served as the boost she needed to chance the tune of their conversation.

"No need to appologize. I can hardly imagine my own life to be of any entertainment for others. This is why when asked, I simply devise a less than exact tale of things."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Not a literal preacher, mind.", he says, catching the strange look she had on her face which could only be explained away one way. The man found himself grinning at her next statement though; one that was the exact opposite of what he could be doing right now. Having lived so long, experienced so much... he could tell tales for days of the things he'd done in his time.

But he chose not to. He chose not to speak of himself, of his accomplishments, of his glories; he only did so when the time was right. "I tend to just... not talk about myself, really."

 

[Ereza]

"How nice that you have that option," she said in turn. When one sat upon a figurative pedestal it was often the focus of conversation by those bearing the weight.

"I much prefer the same. I was told once that-" Amore sat up, though it was difficult to straighten already perfect posture, and coughed into a fist, "you must, and I quote, 'be interested to be interesting!'" A sharp, pointed finger gestured to the ceiling for emphasis.

"So I took it upon myself to be interested in everything I could. The strange thing is that I often find I must be too interested because most people only ever want to talk about me where it is that I really would like to talk about them. So I think to myself, perhaps I must be less interested so that I become less interesting, and then maybe I'll steer this conversation right. But then I fear I've become rude and so my first instinct is to ask questions and develop dialogue wherein I once more become interested because I am showing interest. So here we have this cyclical thing, this Möbius of exchange waxing and waning in some eternal struggle of propriety and want where a simple 'hello, how is your wife?' turns into a strategic, intimate discussion of what my goals are when I gain the throne to mask some play to gain favor of the Monarchy -"

Amore heaved a loud, dramatic sigh, "when all I really wanted to know was if the man's wife would like to go have waffles with me because I'm pretty sure I overheard her saying she liked them a week before."

She grimaced, finished her drink and for just a moment allowed her shoulders to hunch, "talking is so hard."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

A low noise emanated from the man's throat, a bass rumble that grew in volume with a steady pace, before finally it reached climax and it became clear that the man was laughing his ass off. Or rather, would have been, had he not devolved into one of the most horrendous sounding coughing fits this side of the Triple Zero.

Several dull thuds heralded his pounding of his chest before he composed himself and wiped some tears from his eyes; not tears of laughter, but tears of pain from the fit that had just paralyzed his body for a few moments. "Sorry.", he grunts with a hoarse voice that was almost impossible to hear.

"Talking is only as hard as you make it. Talk when it pleases you, not when it pleases someone else; that's the best I got."

 

[Ereza]

"Easy for you to say," though clutched by a bought of concern for the man who sounded as though he were choking on his own lungs, Amore leaned over the bar to look at him, smiling dolefully at the small funny she just made, "I hear whiskey cures what ails ye." Batting her brow towards his glass-half-full on the bar, she chuckled before drifting from her stool.

"You'll have to excuse me, I need to visit the Ladies Room. Don't wait on my account, I'm loathe to keep anyone from an adventure." Striding past the man she gave him a winking smile, leaned, looked about, and meandered to the hallway at the far back of the bar.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Har-karking-har.", the man says with a roll of his eyes, finding his gaze drifting downward as she walked over. Once she was out of sight, he rested his forearm across the bar and set his forehead down on it, taking in a slow breath. That was his sickness come to haunt him again, if it could even be called that. It wasn't contagious, not by a long shot, but it was still an embarrassment.

Slowly, he raised his head and asked for a glass of water, giving a brief glance to Kefka.

 

[Ereza]

Amorella did not seem to be in any hurry. Though quickly done with the Ladies Room she did not make any effort to return with haste. A sidelong glance down the hall showed her the entrance to the kitchen and, more importantly, a back exit to Force-knew-where. She sidled through the open doorway, managing to pass unnoticed by a cook far more interested in a flickering holoscreen what with how slow business was today.

She gave a quick sniff at a pot of simmering-something on the stove, dipped a finger into a bowl of what she assumed to be salsa and strode out through the back exit door. It opened into a wide, covered hangar that was just as busy as the main court of the station. Here, however, was the back-end of the business. Batches of products and luggage shuttled about, droids of all kinds and aliens of every race milled about in uniform.

"Hm," said the Princess with a gleam of interest, allowing her gaze to trail left to right where it landed on the dish washer boy on his break. Her brow shot upwards and disappeared into her hairline as she eyed him in silence for a beat, "Hello, do you know who I am?"

The boy blinked at her and shook his head, looking slightly dumbfounded at her sudden appearance. He glanced back in through the doorway to the kitchens as though that might answer his question of who she was and where she came from and why she was there.

"No? Ok good. I'll pay you twenty credits if you fetch me a caffe from Starluck's inside," she said with a smile, digging into her pocket.

"Uh..."

"You see there's this alien fellow following me around in there and I think I gave him the slip by coming out here, but you know all I've wanted all morning since my ship stopped to refuel is a nice, hot caffe and, well, he's just creepy."

"...alright,"

"Oh thank you, you're terribly kind. Here you go and -" Amore looked down at his hand, "is that Telmenthe? Do you have another?"

By the time the boy left he was 25 credits ahead in life. He walked out through the back of the bar, muttering something to the Keep about being on break, and exited after giving the two stationed guards a wary glance.

Kefka eyed the boy as he walked through then turned to join the three Guards sitting in the booth, grunting something about how much longer it would take for the ship to be ready.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Quick enough for you to leave unmolested, I'm sure." Sarge says with a raise of his brow to Kefka. Humans, as common as they were, typically only knew Basic and one other language, maybe two if they were lucky. Sarge, on the other hand, had a giant cheater card; a tizowyrm.

A vong parasite inserted in the ear, it would translate any speech, no matter how alien, into one the person could recognize. It also allowed him to speak any language that his vocal chords could handle; that meant Rodian was out of the question, as he didn't have a weird snout for a mouth.

Normally, a question like 'when will the ship be ready' was a rather innocuous one, but considering the woman going to the bathroom and Kefka's obvious dislike of him, it didn't take a genius to figure out where this was going.

Slowly, his glass raised to his lips and he took a large gulp of water, brow darkening at just how childish up and leaving was. It didn't occur to him that he was shady, or that perhaps he should have approached things better... but a challenge from a guard was a challenge from a guard.

But if you didn't want to talk, all you had to do to was say so.

He was not happy. Not because she was gone, but because she'd not bothered to just tell him they were leaving.

 

[Ereza]

Kefka gave Sarge a short glance, not because of what was said but because of how it was spoken. There were very few humans he'd come across that understood Honoghran, and even fewer who could actually speak it. Had they not had a foul start he might've engaged the man with some interest - but sadly that friendship flower wilted in the seed pod.


Boy returned with a fresh, hot caffe, eyeing it oddly. He strode past the Keep, who eyed him oddly, because - well, the boy had never once bothered to get a caffe on break since he started working there two months ago. He disappeared into the hall at the back.

"You're a godsend," Amore greeted him from the box she was currently perched on, taking the caffe eagerly and gingerly sipping at it, "so good. What's your name?"

"Garen," he said, looking around as though he were afraid of being caught.

"Hello Garen, I'm Amore," she replied pleasantly.

" ...'lo."

"Tell me is there a scruffy fellow sitting at the end of the bar?"

"Think so, creepy alien in there too."

"Ohh-" Amore half-heartedly swung a fist, "shoot. That creepy alien just doesn't give up. I was trying to have a conversation with the scruffy fellow and he came in. Do you...do you think you could get a message to my friend?"

"Scruffy fellow?"

"That's the one. Here, give us a napkin .... come .... out... back ..." Amore produced a pen from her bag and wrote the words out on the napkin over her thigh, "is there a maintenance entrance to get out here besides this one?"

"Ere's one by the Tech Shop next door."

"Lovely ... use .... maintenance ...door... by...Tech...shop .... ~Maeeee," she held it up and nodded, "just...discretely slip that to him will you? You know, a fresh napkin under his drink."

And so the boy did that. On his way back out to the bar to collect dishes, he filled the napkin holders and, as casually as he could muster, replaced the soggy napkin beneath Sarge's glass with the note and a flick of his eyes towards the back.

Barkeep looked at boy oddly yet again, watching him progress along the backside of the bar to pick up any remaining steins and then as he disappeared with a full bin back into the kitchen.

"Strange kid."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge and the guards sat in a pained silence that spoke volumes about the tension that hung in the air like a shroud. Taking careful, measured sips, the tightening in his throat easing as more of the cool liquid worked its way down the passage, Sarge found his eyes wandering to the boy who came back in and headed to the back with the caf.

Considering the boy had been on break, he didn't much care what he'd gone to get to drink, but the boy retained his attention when he came back and began replacing the napkins. Sarge didn't like people moving about behind him that he couldn't see, and boy or no boy, it set the hair on his neck on edge.

And then, the boy replaced the napkin under his drink, perhaps noting that the glass had been sticking to it from the condensation that had soaked into the fabric. But, something caught his attention, and he down slumped his shoulders, staring down into his glass exactly as he'd done earlier.

The words were warped by the water already soaking through, but he could just make out instructions to go out back... and something about a tech shop.

Grunting at the barkeep, he set some credits on the counter and stood, sliding the glass forward - a glass the barkeep promptly took because he had nothing better to do. Evidence discarded.

Expecting some kind of a trap, the man reactivated his cloak and stepped out into the street, disappearing from view as he did so. The boy was strange, but Sarge was certainly a fair sight stranger. Turning to his left and spotting the tech shop, he disappeared into it and towards the back, moving with the sureness of a man who was used to not being noticed.

Pushing open a door and finding himself in what amounted to a massive maintenance hangar, the man looked around and spotted a familiar shock of red hair. Maybe this wasn't a trap.

Pulling his cowl down, the scruffy man began approaching, heedless of the goings-on around him.

 

[Ereza]

"What are you doing out here?" the Cook seemed to come to attention of the voices outside the back door.

"Oh, well hello there-" Amore looked up from her seat on the box, one leg crossed over the other, elbows resting on knee, hands cupping her caffe, "Garen here was just helping me get away from a rather unsavory sort in the bar. Hope you don't mind if I wait him out here."

"Authorized Personnel only, can't you read?" the Cook jabbed a finger over her shoulder at the sign on the door.

"Oh I know, I'm terribly sorry about that and all, I promise I won't cause a fuss. I just need five minutes is all ... by the way who made that delicious salsa in the kitchen?"

"I did-" scowling, the Cook lofted a brow of intrigue, "it is delicious isn't it?"

"So zesty! It's got just enough kick and then a bit of sour and then sweet on the end, what's your secret, I simply must know."

Cook eyed her, "Well I can't tell you that. Wouldn't be a secret if I did, but it's my mother's recipe. I make big batches for the Ballgames when we get a big crowd in 'ere. Never seem to make enough."

"Devil take it, if I can't have the secret can I at least get some to go?" the Princess gave a well-practiced sad face, "I've got a long trip ahead of me and no more rest stops. Would make a perfect snack."

" ... I suppose, you want chips or bread?"

"Whichever is less trouble, I'm not picky."

And just at that moment Amore noticed the flicker of movement off to her left. Super-human senses picking up on things the other two would not, she smiled cheerfully after the Cook and thanked her as she disappeared back into the kitchen. Amore lifted her caffe at Sarge as he wandered over, "See you got my note - good work Garen, stellar job - I thought this might be a bit easier without tall, gray and grumpy in the way, hm?" she flashed him a warm, welcoming smile and patted the box next to her while sipping her caffe, "hungry? I just put in an order for some fantastic salsa."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Gonna be honest, miLady, I figured you'd just up and abandoned me." That was true, and while he sounded a little dejected by the thought, he was used to it. Growing up, people had often just up and left because they didn't want him around but didn't have the balls to come to him and tell him themselves.

It was, with hindsight, part of the reason he was so forthcoming.

Sometimes it was better to know you weren't wanted and why that was, instead of trying to puzzle it out on your own. Those thoughts lead to depression; a problem he was keenly familiar with.

Taking a seat next to her, eyes shifting to and fro with the furtiveness one would expect of a man who expected death around every corner. "Sadly, i'm not much hungry, but that just means more for you, no?" Then again, he was rarely, if ever, hungry. He'd still eat though. Passing up food wasn't something he did often.

 

[Ereza]

"Abandoned you?" she frowned and did look rather concerned with this notion. The Princess bit at her lip and shook her head, "Well no, no not abandoned you. No one deserves to be abandoned with Kefka, ahaha-" there came that nervous laugh again but she tried really hard to cover it up with an appeasing smile, "but these sort of things have to be handled with care, you see. Dry as his sense of humor is, he's terribly perceptive. Matter of fact in a minute he's going to come check on me in the bathroom because I've taken too long and I'm going to feign being sick from drinking whiskey-sours on an empty stomach which will give me at least another ten minutes."

Amore eyed Sarge, smirking, and leaned to gently nudge him with her shoulder, "Clearly you've never traveled with a security detail on your heels." Her smirk broadened. She suspected he had a soldier's training, but had he ever needed a body guard?

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"I was the security detail. How do you think I knew how to follow you?" This time, it was his turn to smirk, the curling of his lips visible beneath that color bending fabric of his cowl. "Person I was in charge of protecting though... well, she was a bit more important than you, I'm afraid to say."

He wasn't about to brag about defending the Lady Protector, as there was little reason to. He was simply a stating a fact though, rather than trying to put her down. "I'd suggest not agitating your guard though; I've been in his position before."