Posted: Sat Feb 12, 2011 5:06 am Post subject: Paint Chips and New Arguments | Ishale
Worn duffel bag over his shoulder, Markus strode toward his new job. He moved through the crowd of Omega regulars at a leisurely pace. Five more minutes and he'd be officially late. But he was nursing a wicked hangover from the night before and running didn't sound too good to him right now. After he got to the Emor-whatever it was called, Markus would pop something for the killer headache. He wasn't trying to pay disrespect to his new captain and contract, but hurrying just wasn't on his morning agenda. He'd make up for it later.
After finding the new ship, Markus got his turian ass to the bridge. It wasn't a bad looking craft, for a batarian built. Could use a bit of work, though. He could already see a few changes he'd like to make, that is if the captain would let him touch her ship.
"Hello?" Markus called out. His duffel hit the floor and he stretched. "Anyone home?" _________________ [Original image]
It had been tempting to leave the turian, or perhaps make it appear like they had left. Ishale expected a certain amount of punctuality and obedience from her crew, not to the point that they were afraid to share their opinions, but enough so that they knew when she gave them an order, they were to follow. Esme and Xerxes had already been settled in their rooms, and she'd been working on the contract documents, tapping her toes angrily against the cool metal of the floor.
When the airlock sounded, she slipped her shoes on (for it simply wouldn't do for the captain to wander about her vessel barefoot, despite how nice it felt at the moment) and made for the bridge, poking her head out to make sure it was, indeed, the tardy turian.
He looked ill, and although she was naive for her age, that combined with the herd of asari he'd been with last she'd seen him meant he must be quite hungover. "Someone had quite the night," she said, leaning against the doorway with her eyebrows raised.
While no one was around to watch, Markus tipped forward a little. Don't ask him why, but it made him feel better. At the sound of the human's voice, he immediately straightened. He stretched again, acting like he hadn't been visualizing passing out on the floor of the bridge. He recognized the sound of his new captain's voice and wondered how long it would take for it to grate on his news. An hour? A couple of seconds?
"Does it show that much?" He asked, his tone all smooth humor. Markus noted that Ishale looked at ease on her ship. It fit her, this hunk of batarian metal. He wondered if she'd noticed his timing or she wasn't a punctual being. Never could tell with humans. _________________ [Original image]
Ishale couldn't help the smile that found it's way to her lips at the light lean to the turian before she made her presence known. Even standing up straight, he still looked slightly off balance, which was a bit of a scary notion. She didn't know if she'd be able to move his unconscious body off the bridge without employing the help of the other women. She still marveled at his size compared to her own; she'd thought that maybe her memory was exaggerating a bit, but nope, he was just as toweringly tall as he'd been yesterday.
"You look like you've been wrestling with a herd of varren all night, unarmed," she answered honestly. "But you'd think that a man of your stature wouldn't have such trouble fighting them off in order to arrive on time."
Markus made a big show out of wincing and scrubbing his hand over his fringe. He put his other hand on his chest, like she'd wounded him deeply. "An entire herd of varren? Really?" He grinned and shrugged his shoulders again. "Eh, hungry varren, hungry asari. Is there really that much of a difference?" Horribly inappropriate, offensive thing to say and Markus knew it.
Feigning surprise, he looked over his shoulder at the redhead. Red hair, what a sight. Hair was so... odd. "I am on time, Captain," he threw in, trying to be charming. He didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with his captain. Well, he pretended that he cared. Something told him that he was already too late to save his glorified turian reputation. _________________ [Original image]
Silently, Ishale cursed her fair skin. Although the almost invisible dusting of freckles across her cheeks had been called "cute" by the affectionate old women on the Citadel, it meant that when she blushed, it was obvious to the tips of her ears. But she refused to let her expression become uncomfortable, which she was fairly certain looked just as odd and unbecoming.
"If you want to be technical, you're on time," she conceded, ignoring his comment on the asari women to the best of her ability. "But my time table is a bit different from most people's. Early is always better, and late is never an option."
All of his common sense was screaming at Markus just to nod in agreement, not talk back to his new captain. He'd never questioned a superior officer in the past, so why was he feeling this rebellious streak now?
But despite his internal warnings, Markus tilted his head to the side and said, "If you want someone to arrive at an earlier time, why not set the meet date for that time?" He shrugged his shoulders as he dug himself a grave. "If 'on time' isn't the time you want, then change the time."
Maybe he should find his bunk before he got tossed out of the ship. _________________ [Original image]
Ishale strode closer to the turian, her back straightened almost to an uncomfortable degree. The act of cocking his head to the side reminded her of a dog, and although she was supposed to be angry at him talking back, she smiled at the thought of the C-SEC officer as a puppy. A very big puppy, but still.
"On time is technically acceptable. If a function takes place at six-thirty, then six-thirty would be an appropriate time to arrive," Ishale said, absentmindedly brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "However, I prefer my crew to be early in order to account for anything unexpected. I feel this isn't something too much to ask from mature beings."
Could he really be blamed for only half-listening to her as she talked about time and responsibility and human haircare or whatever it was she was yammering on about? Females, whatever race, were all alike. They used more words than needed to get across a simple point. When he did that at least he was doing it with a bit of humor or when he was trying to sweet-talk his way out of a situation. He couldn't sweet-talk his captain, though.
Markus' attention snapped back into focus as she moved a piece of that strange hair out of her face. "You don't think I'm mature?" He asked, obviously amused by the idea. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I think I should be pointed in the direction of my quarters before trouble happens," he suggested. _________________ [Original image]
"I think you're mature," Ishale said with a quirk to her lips, motioning the turian to follow her as she disappeared from her vantage point in the doorway. "That's why you shouldn't have any trouble at all."
The woman led the way down the hall, down a small, curved staircase, to the crew's quarters. "Since there's only four of us right now, everyone has their own rooms. The other crew members all live on this floor, but I'm up the staircase at the end of the hall," she said, pointing in the direction she spoke of. On either side of the hall were doors, all but two of which had their door locks set to green. "You can have your pick, but they're more or less the same."
Grabbing his duffel, Markus jogged to catch up to Ishale. Why did he get the feeling she said she thought he was mature, but in fact she thought he was childish? Although, if she thought he was that immature, she'd kick him off her boat. He'd made a note not to accidentally run over her. His big, ugly Turian feet might crush her frail human body.
"Great, good to know," he said, nodding toward the stairway. With luck, he'd be able to avoid the captain's quarters. He'd avoid following that unusual red hair stuff attached to the pretty face attached to the petite human body. He'd avoid all of that, being professional and all.
Markus motioned to one of the four cabins. "I think I'll take this one," he said as he tossed his duffel inside. "When's my next time deadline, Captain?" _________________ [Original image]
Ishale tried not to flush at the feeling of his eyes following the movement of her hair. She reminded herself that of all the species, humans were the only ones who had hair. Although her kind found it bizarre when people had bare heads, she was sure that the copious amount of the stuff that most people had somewhat disgusting. An asari who'd been studying her unusually red hair had commented that a lot of aliens viewed it as unhygienic; it could appear greasy and unkempt. As such, she'd started paying a lot more attention to the state of her hair so that, at the vary least, she was viewed with disgust.
"We'll be leaving in about an half an hour," Ishale answered, making a note in her data pad. "The volus have a few last-minute adjustments to make, and we'll leave after that. I'll change the lock to work with your omni-tool when I get back to the bridge."
You cannot post new topics in this forum You cannot reply to topics in this forum You cannot edit your posts in this forum You cannot delete your posts in this forum You cannot vote in polls in this forum
FAQ
Search
Memberlist
Usergroups
Register
Profile
Log in to check your private messages
Log in
