driftfleet | .05 if i live the life i'm given, i won't be scared to die

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.05 if i live the life i'm given, i won't be scared to die

Who: Rogue and anyone, really
Broadcast: Video, why not?
Action: The Star Space Station
When: Basically all week, Video Sunday afternoon

[ Video ]

[Rogue doesn't really like addressing the fleet at large, so she keeps it brief.]

Alright, folks, here it is - one of the best places we've been yet ta stock up. What's on your 'must bring back to the ship' list an' [more importantly, maybe] how are ya plannin' on storin' it?

[She's got her own list, but she knows the way these things usually go and she doesn't want to forget anything in case it winds up being a long, long dry spell before they hit another place this good.]

[ Action - All week ]

[Sooner or later, Rogue always falls into a routine. She's too well known in the fight circles now to make any real money, so she's taken to working as a chef/bartender at one of the middling-to-fancy restaurants. When not there, she is either 1) shopping (thank you, space gods, for a place that finally carries lipstick) 2) in the 'datary' checking out books to be 3) read in the garden. or jogging in the garden. Let's be honest, being around actual plantlife feels amazing after the desert planet, the frozen planet, and let's not forget -- space. Garden, reading, ~~wine~~ whiskey, chocolate, lipstick -- a good day. And then it was time to start it all over again.]

[By the time Rogue had given Kitty directions to where to meet, she'd had time to get... nervous about it. Which was dumb, but true. They'd talked fine enough over the communicator, why should meeting in person be any different?

In any event, Rogue hopes that Kitty will like the place. It was one of those middle level spots that she could easiest afford, and she's found a table that would let them both have their backs to the wall, let them both keep an eye on the door. She waits, gloved hands curled around her coffee.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rogue. Fancy hitting the shops with me?

[ -- she doesn't bother with a list. or, indeed, with answering rogue's direct questions. but there will be time for that later. ]

Sure. [Shopping is more fun with company.] Where do ya wanna meet?

You've been slinging drinks at one of the nicer spots, haven't you? [ don't ask her how she knows. ] We could meet there. Easy landmark, like.

Sure. [Rogue doesn't question these things. At this point she's more surprised if someone doesn't know something than if they do.] Meet ya in an hour?

I'll be there. [ and will be punctual. ] I've got credits out in cold hard chips if you're between pay-outs.

[ although it may sound like charity, it isn't. peggy has a halfways decent read on rogue by now. she can imagine the other woman would do no less than repay any loan as soon as she could. peggy doubts she even needs to suggest it.

and that's about the only reason she's so comfortable offering. ]

I should be alright s'long as we're not goin' anywhere too pricey.

[And so Rogue is there, well bells on! Well, not really bells, but wearing shopping shoes.]

Hey.

[ peggy's shopping shoes are much the same as her nearly-everything-else shoes. barring some parts of war and the occasional breaking-and-entering. she's dressed much as she usually is, but this time has a leather jacket zipped over her blouse. she approaches rogue at a briskish pace, and smiles. ]

Keeping busy, I hope. [ a cheery sort of greeting. peggy's in good spirits. ]

Doin' my best. [Boredom: The curse.] Ready ta head off?

Gagging to. [ she turns on a heel, wasting no time in their stroll together. ] What's your priority, then? Fashion or supplies?

Ya say that like there's a difference. [Rogue follows along easily, taking confident, long-leggged strides.] I did make up a supply list, but the basics are harder ta find than most. An' I'm thinkin' of gettin' a haircut.

[ a haircut. well, that merits a second glance. as though (perhaps) she's mentally tying out different styles overlaid on rogue's current hair. ]

A change. [ ... ] Not a bad idea, from a philosophical sort of angle.

[ stagnation is the devil, after all. ]

"Or a 'crowded ship, no increase in resources' sort of angle," Rogue said cheerfully. Well. Cheerfulishly. "Plus, I never meant ta let it get this long in the first place."

"It'll make shampoo day a little easier," she agreed in her oblique fashion. Peggy smiled. "If only one of my crewmates was half so conscientious with his own hygiene."

A glance over at Peggy, "Who?"

-- Hm. Peggy chewed on her words before she spoke. "He's yet to tell me his name, actually. Not that I haven't gleaned it from all the bloody paperwork that now comes across my proverbial desk, but...I'm waiting for him to say it himself, yes? Seems like the polite thing to do."

She shrugged. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with the admission, but rather that she didn't think Rogue needed to see 'how the sausage was made' when it came to how Peggy handled the people around her. Carefully, and with more thought than she liked to betray.

"He's the one who got himself donated a basket of grooming goodies lately, in case you caught that monosyllabic performance."

You know -- the guy who is good looking beneath all that grime.

"Oh yeah," she remembered that. She hadn't paid it too much mind, there was so little point. "Then it sounds like you're not the only one who thought it'd be a good idea for him ta clean up."

"It's starting to become a morale issue."

"Mama always did say cleanliness was next ta godliness," Rogue drawled.

Her laughter is abrupt. Hardy, but sharp. Nonetheless sincere. She crossed her arms while they walked -- and considered the idiom. Peggy wondered whether it was something Rogue's mama truly did say, or whether the fiction merely suits the joke.

"Then this man must certainly be the devil." Idle thought. Idle tone. "But -- no, actually. He's quite remarkable in his own right. Quiet. Prickly. But remarkable."

Remarkable, eh?

But Rogue is not normally one To Pry. "Glad ta hear he's got some good points underneath all that scruff."

"God, me as well. The Starstruck boasts a decent crew, and until recently we haven't had too much in the way of disruptive behaviour. The same can't be said for some of the other ships."

Especially the ones who air some of their more bombastic problems all over the network -- whether by accident or design. Peggy was old-fashioned about her discretion. Some attitudes weren't meant to be advertised.

Rogue shrugged, "Seems like there's a disproportionate amount of nice folks in this place ta me. Then again, seems like that's usually the way."

"Nice and disruptive needn't be mutually exclusive, darling." Her smile was slight. "Just a few weeks ago, there was an awful ruckus over -- blenders, yes? Noise. High emotions. Nice people, but they..."

She wet her lips. Rogue, she suspected, understands this sensibility better than most. "They certainly don't hold back."

"A blender? Really? ...I mean, I get that supplies are short, but..." Rogue shook her head, then confessed: "I can't say I pay much attention ta the feeds. Skim them once or twice a day, maybe, but not close enough ta follow blender blow ups."

"I find myself rather hooked. Maybe it's the augment," she tapped her neck. Comms, after all. "Or my work at the..." Phone company. But her nose crinkled, and it seemed like a poor lie to tell Rogue.

"Well, whatever the reason. I find myself rather glued to the broadcasts at times."

What a great way to learn about people.

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