.04 Scars are just places where I used to bleed

[touchofrogue]

Who: Rogue
Broadcast: Text
Action: A corner table in Varrick’s bar on the Iskaulit
When: January 17th

[Around 10 this morning as time is measured, this text goes live across the network, the numbers set to anonymous:]

**Wanted** Pilot with a pilot augment willing to risk a little trouble. If interested, interviews will be held at the Space Bar from approximately 3-6 today. Compensation for time and trouble to be negotiated.


Action
[Rogue sits with her back to the wall with a decent view of the door. She’d asked the bartender to inform anyone who came in and inquired about interviews to point them in her direction, and Nami had graciously agreed. This had been in her mind to determine for a while, but Loki's disappearance had just given her the proper motivation to try it. There is a determined set to her shoulders even as she tries to relax and nurse her drink. This would be what her friends would call reckless if they were feeling kind about things, which would be why she didn't plan on telling them.

...Ugh, waiting for interviews was not the best. Maybe she should have brought a book. She pages absently through her communicator instead.]

Comments

Action!

[mikangirl]

[Nami's at the bar on the business side, doing very non- bar work-- it's a quiet early afternoon and people aren't bound to turn up for at least another hour. When Rogue arrives, she's plotting points on a grid with the help of a small notebook. Making maps via other people's notes is kind of... something she's done much of her life, so. Why not?

She does look up straight away, though, offering Rogue an unrepentant grin as she folds the notebook away.]

Bad day?

Action!

[touchofrogue]

[A small smile in return.] I've had worse. [And then cutting to the chase.] Listen, I'm gonna set up camp over here for a few hours, okay? Do me a favor an' if anyone asks 'bout interviews, point 'em my way?

Re: Action!

[mikangirl]

[Ah! Comprehension.] You're the one behind the anonymous message, then.

I can do that. Though I should mention I'm also a pilot.

Action!

[touchofrogue]

[A bit of an eyebrow arch.] Yeah? You're interested?

Action

[resnipstance]

[ Ahsoka isn't normally the sort to seek out trouble-- or so she'd like to think. Trouble just finds her! Usually.

But this is definitely a case of seeking out trouble on purpose. She can't deny that. Normally she'd steer well clear, but in this scenario... "trouble" might align with her own plans. She doesn't know. She'd have to attend the interview to find out. ]

Hey. You're the one who posted the ad for a pilot, right?

[ She recognises Rogue, vaguely. They've talked once before. Not enough to be familiar, though. ]

Action

[touchofrogue]

[And indeed, Ahsoka is kind of memorable for a normal earth girl such as Rogue. She nods in response to her question.]

Sure am.

[A gesture to the seat across the table.] Have a seat.

[resnipstance]

[Ahsoka nods and sits.]

So, what's the job?

[Straight down to business. She doesn't waste time.]

[touchofrogue]

[A quality Rogue appreciates.]

Just somethin' they keep tellin' us is impossible. I wanna see if we can get on the Marsiva. [A shrug.]

[survivalistcookbook]

[Eugene reads the broadcasts, so of course when he sees that someone's giving his workplace the Mos Eisley Cantina treatment, he can't help but creep. When he sees it's Rogue, he tries to play it cool. For a few minutes. Five. Maybe ten.

. . .okay, ten minutes is about what it takes to make a batch of cheese-and-chicken croquettes, which he brings over to her once he's done, setting the plate off to one side.]

Hey there. Are you hungry, or is a free appetizer going to ruin the whole secret agent mystique you've got going on here.

[touchofrogue]

[Pfff, Eugene.] I never say 'no' when handsome men bring me free appetizers.

[And picking up a croquette for emphasis.] Besides, if I'd been doin' a secret agent thing, I'd have included a code. Or worn a trenchcoat. Put a rose on the table. Somethin'.

[survivalistcookbook]

Ooh, noir chic. Very nice.

[He glances at the door to make sure no one else has come in (they haven't), then takes a seat. He can hang out a little until a likely-looking recruit strolls in.]

I don't suppose I could wheedle out of you why you're looking for a pilot on the down-low, then.

Action

[lostthebet]

[He didn't exactly fit the profile, not a pilot and therefore not what she was looking for, but reckless behavior was his jam and if there were any way to get in on it, he'd take it. There were times even the Tower seemed busy in comparison to his ship and he'd always crave excitement. He inquires about the interviews and gets directed back to Rogue, and starts talking even before he slips into the seat across from her.]

Stop I'm not a pilot but hear me out; whatever it is you're up to I've got qualifications. I can be discreet.

[Hell, screw it. He takes on an over dramatically pleading tone.] Please tell me you can squeeze me in, I would really love the action, it's been way too long!

Action

[touchofrogue]

[...oh gosh, this poor person.]

Sorry, the shuttles only fit two people. That's just room for me an' the pilot. [A little smile.] Besides, the point's ta try an' keep out of trouble if possible, I'm just acknowledgin' that it could happen.

[She slides over a still warm basket of cheese-and-chicken croquette in compensation.] Goin' stir crazy, huh?

action

[cajunspice]

[Having gotten himself over to the bar finally now that the fleet was back on it's path across the stars, Remy had planned to grab a drink or two, relax, catch up with anyone he knew or catch the ear of anyone who looked entertaining, and just enjoy himself.

That was the plan, until he spotted those distinctive white streaks across the room. Grabbing a second drink for her, Remy strolled over to Rogue and without waiting for an invite, put the drinks down, grabbed a seat, and pulled it around to be to her side rather than across the table she sat at.] Fancy meet ya here.

action

[touchofrogue]

[Well, look who was getting cozy? She gave him a pointed 'Mind my space, Cajun' stare and then settled back in with a wry sort of smirk.]

It's a small captivity after all.

[Is that second drink for her? Because she will so totally take it.]

[cajunspice]

[And that look went ignored as Remy pushed the extra glass in her direction with one of his fingers, before taking a drink from his own.] Well, gotta work with what ya got, [Before he grinned and went for the obvious joke there.] As ya well know.

action;

[firstrebel]

[ It's a simple enough request. Hera kind of doubts that she'll want to take this job from a stranger, but the invitation is enough to pique her interest in whoever wrote it. It sounds like someone who may have a plan of some kind, and if so, Hera at least wants to know about it. Wants to know who around here has plans, period.

It's just another recon mission, really.

So, she finds the bar in question, and arrives at the appointed time, unsurprised to see yet another human behind this. ]

Hi, my name's Hera. [ She sits, with no more preamble than that. ] I hear you have a job offer.

action;

[touchofrogue]

[Hera is not the sort of figure that is easy for a human to miss, but Rogue is used to the unusual. She nods when the other woman sits.]

Rogue. I do, if you're a pilot.

action;

[firstrebel]

[ 'Rogue' sounds less like a real name and more like a code name, but that doesn't put Hera off. If anything, it makes her more interested. ]

I am, and I'm used to being sneaky. What's the job?

action;

[enshields]

[He's not answering the ad. Truthfully, he doesn't even know there is an ad, given his aversion of the Network. Instead, he's just looking for a quiet place to sit that isn't the veritable hamster ball of the Bloodsport, and the bar's decent enough. He even orders a beer, and when he turns away from the bar he spots Rogue several chairs down.

He hesitates, and then with some deliberation, goes to join her.]

Miss.

[Still not an apology. But it's something.]

action; \o/

[touchofrogue]

[...how does one respond to 'Miss'? 'Sir'?

Rogue looks up at Steve over the rim of a mostly untouched soda-and-whiskey. Whiskey substitute. Whiskeyish thing.]

...hello.

[Pleasantries observed? That is that? She has no idea, but she's been waiting here for about an hour and is both bored and antsy, so she's not trying to shoo him off.]

[enshields]

[He clears his throat at length, and then gestures to the empty stool beside her.]

Mind if I sit?

action » the night before

[mucked]

[ tonight, peggy and rogue's appointment with a bar-table has absolutely nothing to do with the covert message she'll send the next day. nothing to do with any sort of false-happenstance or bumped-into-serendipity. instead, this is a meeting well-arranged. one (did it matter which?) had called the other up and asked to share drinks. it isn't a desperate sort of request -- although both women could likely desperately use the company. they meet as almost-friends. it's amicable. ]

All I'm saying is that this nonsense purchasing of upgrades and better sinks and bloody doors for our billets: it's the Atroma, moving goal-posts. Gets us caught up in chasing a minor achievement for a slight adjustment in comfort, and draws attention away from any sort of meaningful strides towards...towards...

[ she trails off. they'd been bandying about this topic for the better part of an hour. peggy took a long sip of something amber-coloured, but not whiskey. not exactly. ]

Something else.

action » the night before

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue gives Peggy a wry sort of smile.]

Somethin' like tryin' ta band together an' find a way home? [She shakes her head.] I only wish it was that simple. 'course, it's not fair ta keep comparin' this place ta Luceti, but I can't help it. Ya know we had ta restart the timeline just for a shot at gettin' home? An' then this [a gesture around them] happens. I don't even know if it's the same universe, but I can't help thinkin' that the Atroma are a sight nicer captives than the Malnosso. 'course, the Mallies were at war most of the time...

action » the night before

[mucked]

Towards thwarting them. By any means.

[ she concludes. eventually. ] And perhaps that doesn't mean finding a way home -- but it certainly means finding a way out of a pattern the Atroma have decided for us.

[ still, she has to concede one point: ] Even if it isn't an entirely unpleasant sort of pattern.