On the Third Date You Get Arrested [Isaiah]

[Magdalena Lethe]

Aboard the Beacon of Broadcast
One week following the Silver Jedi Order Springtime Prom

The Heartline Project was at a standstill, which came as both a boon and a source of major concern for the Founder of GUIDE. Given the roadblock on the very first leg of their mission, Magda couldn't help but think it was an ill omen for the entire project. Haunted by the happening on that forsaken planet all those months ago - the one that had taken the lives of several GUIDE employees and nearly killed her as well - she found the need to take the greatest precautions moving forward.

Until they had a solid team and plan to overcome the starweird nest in the wreckage field they couldn't progress. The crew from CETO had arrived expecting to jump into action only to be told there was a delay. Scouts had been sent out to find willing parties to aid in their cause, but it was slow going.

Magda was getting cabin fever. Couldn't stand to sit idle on another person's dime, and the Confederacy was being exceptionally generous and remarkably patient.

It was, technically, 3am aboard the Beacon, and most of the GUIDE employ was asleep. Not Magda. She was out, pacing the halls like she normally did when she couldn't sleep, lost in thought and budding anxiety. Magda had a normal route she took whenever this happened, which was far more often than she'd ever admit. The route took her around the entire ship if she managed to make the whole thing.

Sometimes an eiphany would strike partway through, sending her off to some other area with the feverish intensity of a bee on a mission. Other times her thoughts would wend her path zig-zagging as the gears changed and the train of thought shifted. Tonight she found herself stuck on their predicament and stubbornly refusing to face the thought that they might just have to re-route the entire hyperlane. It was too late in the game for that. Booted feet carried her off course as a new mental side tangent began.

There had to be a way through the debris field - and if they couldn't plot it (they couldn't) then perhaps they could pave it. She was muttering something to herself about space stations and the Mara Corridor when she entered the Bridge, counting numbers off on her hands and gesticulating with an unspoken conversation when she nearly ran right into Izzy standing at the center command module looking at charts.

Magda yelped, stumbled backwards, and landed on her rear somewhere between the Comm Officer's podium and the Captain's chair.

"Izzy...beezus, you scared me. What are you doing here?"

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

Confederate space was getting more active by the day. It seemed like every other week their fleets were being moved and deployed across the Galaxy as they continued to expand and systems continued to join. He had mixed feelings about them, mostly because he couldn't tell what their deal was. Also because it meant that they had to keep moving around, which meant more moving for his team, which meant more work for him. He'd never thought he would be the kind of person to be up late working but here he was...At 3AM local time.

Something bumped into him and for a second he thought he'd felt that strange presence from Ichor again. His hand fell to his blaster and he spun around to find...He arched his brow and reached out a hand to help his, well he wasn't sure, up.

"Mags? What are you...Why are you up at the bridge this late?" The room was softly illuminated by the blue light from the holoprojector. A star map of local Confederate space was floating above the console with makeshift indicators of local Confederate fleet movements superimposed on to it alongside BOB's current course, his team's location, Creia's team's location, the original planned route of the Heart Line and about a dozen different new proposed routes.

He frowned.

"You really shouldn't sneak up on me like that with all the crazy poodoo that's been going on with this job."

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

A few years ago she would have responded to him with I own this ship, I can go wherever I want, whenever I want. The typical Boss cop-out to cover up what was really going on.

Now, accepting his help back to her feet with an uttered thanks, Magda dusted herself off and took a moment to consider her words. Also to look at him, but mostly to consider her words. Izzy wasn't just her employee anymore, he was a friend and confidant and ... well, something more, she just wasn't sure what.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted, lightly itching at the embroidered cowl covering her head with a hidden, sheepish smile as his next words, "sorry, I-" and then she noted his hand on his blaster and smirked, "were you planning to shoot me with that thing?"

Accusatory amusement - they didn't normally allow employees to carry weapons, but with their skeleton crew and all the crazy poodoo that's been going on, a few of the handbook rules had been bent. For security purposes, of course.

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

He grunted and turned back around before setting the datapad on the table. He didn't dignify the question with an answer. Oh he'd seen that smirk of hers and he wasn't falling for that dumb, cute smile.

"Did you at least bring caf?" He asked, slinking over to a chair and plopping down, the sudden weight causing him to spin slightly. He eyed her carefully, still with the skeptically cocked eyebrow. "What's bothering you." It was a statement, not a question.

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Arms crossed, her smirk followed him as he found his chair.

"You know I don't drink that stuff..." tea. She drank tea.

Took up the spot he'd been standing at in front of the holoprojector, blue light gleaming off the glass of her mask. A sigh followed, gloved fingers trailing across the command module to zoom in on the contested portion of the route at the heart of the debris field.

"I hate waiting. All the Pathfinder Teams are itching to go and we're stuck waiting on a hope that Miss Matson will return with a cadre of help. I feel like I've missed something."

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

"Maybe," he started, leaning back in his chair. "You're just thinking too hard. The CIS is getting into fights all over the Galaxy and that Starweird nest has put a dampner on our plans but...You can't let that get to you." He shrugged. "Hyperlanes don't appear over night."

Tea. How could he forget? She drank tea. Could she even drink the tea that was around here? He'd have to make sure whatever she could drink was around.

"Maybe you just need a vacation." He know he damn well did. It had been nothing but work besides that Silver Jedi function they'd gone to. He didn't like thinking about that night...Drunk Izzy had said some things that bordered on insubordination and he'd rather not revisit those. He'd also said some things about Mags that...He couldn't tell if she remembered or if she expected him to remember. He hoped that she thought he'd just drank enough to forget everything.

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

"True," she said to the first part, fingers drumming over the edge of the table as she studied the map, "but they don't appear at all when no work is being done."

Time spent doing nothing was time wasted. Maybe they could use this time to start in from the other end. She'd thought that an option before and struck it from the record because Magdalena Lethe did not work backwards. But what if it wasn't backwards? What if it was forwards from the other end? The bigger issue was the other end wasn't in Confederacy space, and therefore wasn't sponsored by them. They needed the sponsorship to get the job done, and they were counting on the CIS quadrants to be finalized before those beyond, when they had solidified further sponsorships with proof of a 3/4 run.

So they couldn't afford to skip forward, which left them right where they were-

"Maybe you just need a vacation."

-waiting on [member="Loske Matson"] to return with good news.

Waiting.

"A vacation?" she blinked, looking back at him over her shoulder, "And where exactly am I supposed to do that? I can't exactly go to the beach in this getup."

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

Izzy shrugged.

"Why not Corellia?" he said rather sheepishly. It was where he told her he'd taker her on their next "date" though he still hadn't determined if she was just piking fun at him for being drunk or not. "People wear all kinds of weird clothes in that sector, nobody would even look twice at you." he said and then cursed himself.

"That's-That's not what I meant. You look great in that suit! I mean-" well....Now he'd done it.

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

"Corellia?"

What an odd place to suggest for a vacation. Wasn't that where he said he'd almost gotten arrested? She could have sworn he-

Blink. What.

"You think I look-" a mixture between a grimace and a pout sat on her face. Thank the Force he couldn't see it through her visor, but he might be able to hear it through the tone of her stereo-projected helmet-voice, "-weird?"

Welp, Izzy managed to hit what had become an exceptionally sore spot for Magdalena Lethe over the last several months. She'd never thought herself beautiful, but she'd taken pride in her appearance. And now ... now she looked like this. All. The. Time. And things weren't any better when the suit came off.

"Well then I guess I'll fit right in won't I. Thanks for the tip Izzy," cue storming off stage left.

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

He cursed under his breath as he stood up from his chair. Now he'd done it. He knew that suit was a sore spot for her right now, and likely the way things were going for the rest of her life. With a thud his boots hit the floor and clanked as he tried to catch up with her.

"Mags," he groaned, "MAGS!" He jogged to catch up with her storming speed. How did she move so quickly while walking? He growled under his breath at his screw up and reached out to grab her arm.

"Mags, that's not what I meant and you know it."

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Hadn't the fortitude for running anymore, but she'd become quite adept at speed walking to get places quickly. Honestly by the time Izzy reached her she wasn't even sure why she was so upset. He was right, of course, that greater diversity cut down on stares and whispers behind her back. In a sea of aliens, she fit right in. But it didn't make her feel better about herself and Izzy remarking about her appearance seemed to cut twice as deep.

Magda relented as he caught her arm, coming to a stop with a low frown and a heavy sigh. It's not what he meant and she knew it.

"Sorry, I-" was all worked up because of everything going wrong? On edge and suffering from cabin fever? Worried about letting everyone down again? "-maybe you're right. Maybe I do... need a vacation."

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

"Sorry," he stammered and let go of her arm. Nervously he scratched his shoulder and gave a sheepish smile.

"I promised I'd take you there anyways," he murmured, testing the waters to see if she'd even remembered or taken his proposal seriously. He didn't wait for her to respond but turned around and started walking back towards the bridge.

"We can leave tomorrow!" And this time, he wouldn't bring any alcohol.

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

The words I promised you struck a chord with Magda she hadn't expected. While he'd been waiting to see if she remembered that promise or took it seriously, she'd been doing the same. The whole prospect of it, a plan for a date while 3 sheets to the wind, hadn't sat well with her. She'd thought of bringing it up to him, but how do you remind someone of something they'd promise in a drunken stupor?

My word against his if he doesn't remember.

Didn't want him thinking she was forcing him into a date. Much as it gnawed at her, she'd opted to let it go ... rather, let it fester. Maybe he remembered and maybe he didn't, but she supposed if he was serious about it that he'd bring it up himself at some point.

"I-" words failed, only sounds with no conceptual meaning escaped, "mm ... ah-"

And then he was walking off. Leave tomorrow?

"We're taking my ship!" she called after him.


Tomorrow.

"Because," Magda explained while she walked down the ramp that connected the Beacon to the Magesteria through space, "your ship isn't set up for my ... needs."

Didn't feel like she needed to explain it any further. Izzy knew in order for her to eat properly and even get out of her suit she needed a sterile, encapsulated environment. The Magesteria was already set up with everything she would need.

"And besides, it's meant for luxury travel. It's much faster than the GUIDE ships. You'll have the guest suite. I'll have to program your access into the controls."

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

Her ship, he flew. Somehow it felt more like he was a Chauffeur than a date. He shifted uncomfortably in his armor, fully suited up so as to not contaminate her ship. With a sigh he fell slightly back into his seat and gripped the controls.

"We can't just share your suite?" he joked, before glancing at the dash. All green and the hangar crew had given them the okay to leave. He pushed the throttle forward and eased the vessel out of the ship.

"I'm...kidding if you didn't catch that," he muttered before confirming the jump coordinates and pulling back the hyperdrive lever. Stars peeled back into starlines as they were slingshoted into hyperspace. He flipped a switch and shutters fell over the viewport. While the rumors of hyper-rapture were more rumor than science he was glad her ship had the shutters to make the lure of hyperspace a non-issue. With a grunt he got up and headed to his quarters.

"Long trip ahead, I suggest we get some rest since this is probably the smoothest jump out of the few we've got ahead."

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Magda almost remarked on that first part but held her tongue, having caught the tone of a joke in his voice. Finally, seemed like she was actually getting to know him. There was a part of her that would have liked to joke back about it, but given the circumstances of her health it wasn't a good joke to make. With his ID entered in to allow him control of the ship, Izzy could now share piloting time with her. She watched him set their first jump destination and rocked gently on her heels as the stars lept into streaks along the viewport.

Her helmet tracked him as he stepped out of the cockpit, headed to wherever and she gently cleared her throat, "Izzy ... is there a reason you're wearing your armor?"

She frowned behind the tinted glass of her visor, "Should I be concerned?"

Isaiah Dashiell

 

[Isaiah Dashiell]

Izzy paused at the door and looked down at the old suit that he'd stolen so long ago from the Leventine academy then looked back up at her. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out so he closed it and folded his arms as if in thought. Thinking wasn't exactly his forte though and so when he couldn't pinch his eyes shut any harder he sighed and shrugged.

"I figured uh, I should be nice and sealed up like you to make sure you don't get sick or anything," Despite saying that the suit was probably the least sanitary thing on the ship. He often left pieces of it around the ship or wherever he was bunking at the time, there were still carbon scoring marks from blaster fights that had never been buffed out, specks of what looked like old, dried fluid of some sort spotted the black suit here and there....It needed a deep cleansing itself. But it was the thought that counted. Realizing all of this as he spoke however he realized he should probably go do some of those things while they had time.

"I'm, uh...Gonna go handle some....stufff."

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

"Oh."

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Isaiah was actually quite thoughtful. He didn't show it often, or maybe she just didn't notice it often, but the thought really did count. Magda smiled, glad he couldn't see the faint bit of color filling her cheeks.

"Thanks...but you don't have to do that. Only my room is sterile, the rest of the ship is ... normal. So just make yourself comfortable?"

She might come to regret saying that, as comfortable Izzy wasn't publicly acceptable Izzy half the time. At least so she believed. But if both of them didn't have to be in a suit the entire time then one of them should at least be comfortable. Nodding after him as he excused himself, she pondered the idea of getting some rest and decided against it. It was still early in their day, generally speaking. Maybe some tea - oh, she could make something for them to eat.

Food always made things better.

Off she went to the kitchen to spend a few hours doing just that.