Barfly
Posted on Apr 02, 2015 @ 1:44pm by Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
Edited on on Apr 02, 2015 @ 1:45pm
Mission: Limbo
"Barfly”
(Continued from “The Shears of Atropos, Part Two”)
=/\=
“Girl, I know the grass is greener, just around the bend.
Got to say, ‘Goodbye!’ but don't you fear.
Though the road is dark and I might fail to find the end
I won't disappear.”
-The Monkees, “I’ll Be Back Upon My Feet”
=/\=
Location: LIMBO
Stardate: [2.15]0401.2024
Scene: The Sanctum
Eve walked aside the man who called himself Willis Baker, Xana, and Angus as they entered the Sanctum. The crimson lighting cast the entire area in sinister shadows. It seemed the perfect fit for a place riddled with the criminal element and the deeds associated therein.
“What’s the matter dear- never seen the inside of a club before?” Willis chided, pulling her shapely waist closer to him.
Her eyes came back to the dapper man who had ‘rescued’ them. She forced a demure, winning smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Not one with this much… ambience.”
If the patrons had any curiosity about the unusual group, they hid it well . Or perhaps they were simply showing far more concern in their own affairs than those of two humanoids, a Bolian hybrid, and a large canine.
“How does one come to find himself such a high roller in a place like Limbo, Mr Baker?” Xana practically purred at the man.
He gestured for a round of drinks before responding. “Banking, of course my love.”
Eve tried to place the man’s accent and found herself believing he was putting on some sort of phony British air and only partially succeeding. But his wealth and position here seemed to be more than a put-on. A tray of gray looking drinks approached the table with utmost haste.
Baker sighed with satisfaction before grabbing one. The two women followed suit. “What are these?” Xana asked.
“Risian Moontides,” he said as he quickly downed half of his in an unapologetic gulp. “Not passing pretty under this light, but the flavor can’t be dulled.” He was referring to the delicate iridescent lilac hue that the alcoholic beverage usually displayed under something other than the scarlet haze that filled the debaucherous place.
Not to be outdone, Xana downed the exotic potable in one swift motion. “I like a man who knows what he wants.”
Willis Baker kissed her azure cheek. “There’s my girl. Shall we have another?”
The dark haired woman took a cautious sip. Exotic fruit juices mingled with strong spirits. “Be careful,” she said aside to the former Secretary of Starfleet, not caring that their generous benefactor could hear as well.
Xana laughed. “Watch and learn…. Another round darling?”
“As you wish,” he replied as held his hand up commandingly.
Xana winked at her comrade while Baker was otherwise occupied. The elder woman knew with a certainty that the human would be drunk far sooner than either of them, and perhaps with that he would divulge some of his knowledge.
=/\=
Time Index: Several drinks later- I mean, what is time, really?
Xana downed another drink- she thought it was a Black Hole this time- and took a sidelong glance at Angus, who was obediently at his mistress’ feet, but still unsure what this place was about. He looked asleep, but occasionally his ears would perk up or he would open his eyes and survey the din around them. Xana coughed as a cloud of sweet smoke rose up from Willis Baker’s pipe. She was mildly impressed at how many rounds he had been able to handle. Then again, he almost tripped going to the lavatory less than ten minutes before. And he had almost passed out in her arms twice.
“We’re close,” she had said to her erstwhile partner while Willis had been busy traipsing around the club of ill repute. “He can’t take much more.”
“You said that two shots ago,” Eve had responded with an amused irritation.
Xana’s diplomatic background had proven handy in her congenial entertainment and schmoozing of the former financial advisor. She had him talking, and even though it wasn’t the jackpot of intel they were looking for, the fact that he seemed comfortable with them might lead to better things.
And, while the two of them kept each other company, the Counsellor scanned the room looking for anyone or anything interesting. “Hottie at nine o’clock,” she muttered without thinking.
A brooding, wistful looking man approached, with short black hair and just the right amount of matching stubble. Eve couldn’t decide if he was acting pissed off or apologetic. His gaze never wavered from the table that Baker commanded with his newfound lady friends, and the Cardassian born woman found herself regarding him with the same intent.
Baker and Xana were both laughing loudly and sloppily. The public drunkenness level was reaching a critical mass. Eve grabbed a glass, clumsily allowing some of the drink to spill on the onyx table, in an attempt to fit in.
"Willis! Willis my friend,” the ebony-haired man cordially stated, trying to gain the older man’s attention.
“Well look who t’is! As I live and breathe, it’s my old pal Simon. Have a drink will you?”
Simon DeWitt crossed his arms. His black shirt fell carelessly open at the neckline, and bloused black trousers tucked into worn boots. A small metallic earring caught the light. He had the rough good looks of a space pirate. “Perhaps another time. I’m here to talk business.”
Willis Baker snorted. “Still trying to unload your cargo?”
Simon sidestepped the question. “I hear there’s going to be another Shadow Market.”
The older man practically guffawed, holding his small gut as he laughed. “You’re bringing Benzite Stemmbolts to the Shadow Market? I suppose it’s your death warrant.”
Eve raised an eyebrow. If that was true, it was an unfortunate cargo, indeed.
“I’d gladly go to my death if you would just tell me *where* it is, you old drunk,” Simon retorted.
Their banter was interrupted by several holovid screens turning on in some sort of advertisement for the Pit. They had all been briefed about the unsavory blood sport arena and its proprietor, a Cardassian by the name of Daheel. Judging by the mention of Major Thytos as the ‘Butcher’, she had more than acquainted herself with the locale. The two outcast Starfleet officers weren’t the only ones interested. The cacophany of the night spot dulled slightly as people stopped what they were doing and craned their necks to view the advertisement. There were even exclamations of disbelief and disgust from the rogue’s gallery.
The women exchanged looks of thinly veiled concern. They had to get to that fight.
“It’s gonna be a madhouse there,” Baker slurred. “The fight of the century and the Shadow Market in one place… tonight?”
“And thank you very much, you pompous moob,” the hardscrabble trader said and turned to leave.
“Don’t go,” Eve blurted out, quick to follow him. They were both standing in front of Baker’s table.
DeWitt faced the sable-haired woman, clearly annoyed. “And what business is it of yours as to my whereabouts?”
“Souvenirs,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“Those stemmbolts are crap. Engrave or stamp them with something commemorating the fight and you might have a chance pawning them off on the crowd.”
“That’s ridiculous, Miss-”
“Eve… just Eve.”
“That’s ridiculous, Eve.”
She grinned politely. “About as ridiculous as trying to sell stemmbolts for a profit, Captain.”
“How did you know I was a Captain?”
“Well you’re certainly not a merchant.”
He took the mild insult with grace. “Will I be seeing you at the Pit?”
“You might.”
He paused for a few seconds, then realized he didn’t have the luxury of time. “I must be off. Possibly later, then?”
Eve nodded, then returned to her seat. “Xana darling,” she exaggerated, “didn’t you say you wanted to see something exciting while we were here?”
=/\=
Susan Ledbetter
Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
Cns
USS PHOENIX
