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Entry tags:

video | action

Who: Shai+open!
Broadcast: everyone
Action: Marsiva, if the new arrivals are so inclined.
When: Jan 26/16

[Not her first rodeo - being uprooted and tossed into the howling seas is sort of a thing at this point - so Shai looks cheery by all accounts. Have a wave, Fleet. When she speaks, it's with a strong accent that wars between being Australian and South African, with no discernible median point between the two, because #space shenanigans.]

So am I to brush up on my pirate brogue, or is this a respectable sort of kidnapping fleet?

[It's just amicable enough to hide the anger. She's rather good at it.]

At any rate, hello. Name's Shai Ebbisaryn, late of the Lattice and more recently of a quaint little place called Eudio. Give a gal a chime if you recognize either.

And, ah-- any word on whether or not we can get the Augments out without doing anything permanent? [A flash of a smile.] Asking for a friend.

[Obviously not, but it's said lightly.]

A; or, ❝bro, do you even lift?❞

[She can be found in the gym doing all manner of katas - obviously this is a lady who Knows Her Shit inasfar as sparring goes - and she'll be happy to invite you to participate if you look at all sturdy. Otherwise she'll strike up conversation for any number of reasons. Can you hand her that towel over there? What's your best bench press, sweetheart? Attractive, of-age (ie: over 18 at the very least and preferably somewhere north of 21) individuals of either gender might get a curious once-over and something like, 'Well aren't you a sight, darling' to the tune of playful flirts everywhere.]

B; or, ❝they call me mister farenheit❞

[She's definitely standing in front of that charming, large bay window idly letting a spark of electricity trail between her fingers. It's a bit like someone walking a coin across their knuckles, save that the electricity is more like a living little glob of plasma that drips and sparks with energy. It's a nervous tick, not that the rest of her body language gives her away. If anyone enters the room, that little plasma-looking glob will disappear in a hail of sparks (she's not trying to hide it, just being polite) and she'll give the newcomer a cheery smile.]

Don't know about you, mate, but I'm about ready to rip these bloody speakers clear off the walls.

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[She laughs at that ma'am. Faintly delighted, but mostly:]

Now, none of that, sweetheart. Captain's above my paygrade, last I checked.

[She's not one to eschew her rank in the least, but she'd rather not get ma'amed unnecessarily. And it is, technically, true.

To the last, she shrugs, an expressive sort of full-body gesture that starts with the set of her mouth and travels on to the upward swing of her shoulders.]

Any provisions in place?

If you say so, Ebbisaryn.

[ Just wait and get stealth ma'amed instead. ]

We can upgrade the ships to have more space, that's doing the job for now. The rest, we'll see what the Atroma have planned.

[Definitely starting to think that captain isn't ornamental. Which suits her just fine-- she's at her best among soldiers.]

How long until they toss us in a cage and have us battle to the death for their amusement, you reckon?

[ A soft sound, of amusement. ]

There's one on the large station you can see through your window. It's voluntary so far, probably will be for a while, given that it's technically illegal.

When has technicality ever stopped a soul, I wonder.

[But she does set off to find a proper window so she can take a gander at this other station. Once she does, she leans one shoulder into the glass. Her breath fogs it.]

Had a crack at it yet?

Only at the betting pool. Good money to be made — they froze our allowances just after we docked.

[ Not technically a lie. His other personas have been in the ring, and he doubles up for Winter, but that's only half, and not all of him. ]

— We get paid regularly, it fluctuates depending on the "ratings".

[You want to encourage illegal activity, that's one way to do it. Makes her wonder. Massive sting operation, or just one of the universe's little places that likes to thrive on corruption. She rests her right elbow against the glass and slides it up until she can rest her forehead against her forearm.]

Always wanted to be a dancin' man for the cameras with no say in the matter. Let me take a stab at it - drama's the equative currency?

[She's the public face of the Janes, the one that handles their media blitz. She's been doing interviews and fielding questions for a decade now, and despite the fact that damn near everyone knows the story, she's had only a handful of reporters ever lead in with a question that wasn't about Janirak's untimely destruction. Never let it be said she doesn't know the score.]

[ Agreeably, ]

Seems to be.

[A huff of breath, she smudges it away from the glass when she straightens up with the sleeve over her forearm.]

Fair. Mind if I ask the prevailing opinion on powers hereabouts?

Vast majority on the Fleet are fine with 'em — most of us aren't baseline humans ourselves. On the planets or stations, it depends.

[Really, it's the Fleet she's concerned with. The people she has to work with, presumably, to fight her way back home. Their opinions are the only ones that will hold weight, not those seen or engaged with on a temporary basis.]

That's good to know. I'm an electrokinetic, by the by. Learned it's best not to keep that one under my hat.

[She's never seen the point in hiding it, but to those that are skittish around the superpowered, an ounce of extended trust is an ounce of preventative cure. And given how Eudio's own James Barnes had reacted (badly) to what she can do, she'd rather not risk surprising this one.]

[ There's no change in his tone, it's still even. Nothing to be bothered by unless she decides to turn it against him, and his arm has some protection from that thanks to a nasty mission. ]

Cyborg.

[ Supersoldier he still plays close to his chest, but there's no hiding a metal arm. ]

[Not something anyone ever becomes by choice, least not where she's from. Her brow creases - it's not quite sympathy, but certainly understanding. Doesn't hurt either that he didn't denounce her on the spot. Not that the other James had done that, but when you've been hurt by something badly enough, a kneejerk reaction is plenty understandable.]

Quite the pair, us.

[-- Though as soon as she says it, something else occurs to her and her eyes narrow faintly.]

Wasn't a gracious contribution of Atroma, was it?

[ A darkly amused noise. ]

No, a generous gift from an old [ his tone turns venomous: ] friend.

[Ah. She knows the sort of friend. She's been the sort of friend. And not, she senses, a topic she should pursue. Never be said she doesn't know when to let sleeping demons lie quiescent.]

Bet you've got some clever party tricks to make up for it.

[It's lightly said. She's giving him an out.]

More than a few, [ he adds, agreeably, like just finishing her sentence. ]

Well when they let me outta obligatory newbie quarantine, maybe the two of us can take in a drink or two and you can show me what's what, Captain.

[It's only the tiniest bit flirtatious. Now's not really the time and place for it. She may not care for decorum, but he doesn't strike her as the sort that'd appreciate it. Leastwise not with a screen between them.]

I'd be happy to. You'll be on the Marsiva for a couple more days — only thing that ship has going for it is the chicken.

[A dry laugh.]

Pity I'm a vegetarian.

Strictly? It might be an issue. The last planet we visited didn't have much of a concept of not eating meat. I'm not sure about here.

Strictly.

[Her tone is gently firm. It's not a point she's willing to waver on.]

I can metabolize energy if it comes to that. Not indefinitely, but-- eh, long enough I'm not fussed over the idea of skipping a few meals.

[ He hums in thought. ]

Well, you can always talk to the two cooks on the Vanquish. They'll have something.

[Yeaaah she kind of had enough of relying on other people's charity back on the Ark, but he's only trying to be kind.]

That one've the littler ships?

Yes. The Iskaulit is the one with the bar.

Do folks mind strangers barging in on their ships as a matter of course?

[She's migrated to a table and sits down, propping her communicator against a glass in front of her, cupping her chin in both hands with her elbows firmly planted on the table.]

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