(no subject)

[complicatedliar]

Who: Anyone who wants to hang on the Iskaulit
Broadcast: nah
Action: Iskaulit mingle, darlings
When: All day every day (at least for the month)

[We're drifting, so it's a perfect time to make use of the many fine establishments on our common ship.]

Comments

[revengeofthemordsith]

Well, it doesn't have to be you.

[beathach]

Well - yes, I know that. But there's far more important things to be concerned over than the name of the planet.

[revengeofthemordsith]

I suppose. You're the one who has to live on it.

What's more important?

[beathach]

[his lips quirk]

We'd be here for a long time if I started listing what was more important. Let's just say - taking care of it is more important than the name itself.

[revengeofthemordsith]

Why? Is it in peril that often?

[beathach]

Often enough. [I mean, it isn't a lie]

[revengeofthemordsith]

[ She nods in understanding. ]

That seems to be a trend.

[beathach]

Mm, unfortunately. For one reason or another.

[revengeofthemordsith]

The reason is simple. Delusions of grandeur.

[beathach]

That's . . . frighteningly accurate. At least where I'm from.

[revengeofthemordsith]

Of course it is. People are the same, no matter where they come from or how they appear. Why should their nature ever change?

[beathach]

I wouldn't say it's in their nature, per say, but it usually is the ones who hold some sort of power that end up that way.

But there are people who don't. Who use what power they have to do good things instead.

[revengeofthemordsith]

I can't say I've met many of those.

[beathach]

You will. There's a lot of those types here.

[revengeofthemordsith]

I'll believe that when I see them.

[beathach]

Mm, that's fair enough.

What's your name?

[revengeofthemordsith]

[ She pauses, gauging her response. ]

Cara.

[beathach]

I'm Hank. It's nice to meet you, Cara.

[revengeofthemordsith]

I don't see how. I'm not very nice.

[beathach]

[both eyebrows shoot up]

You've been nice enough so far.

[revengeofthemordsith]

. . . You must not know a lot of nice people.

[beathach]

[a little dryly]

I know plenty of nice people.

[revengeofthemordsith]

Not enough, clearly.

[beathach]

Because I . . . think you've been nice?

[revengeofthemordsith]

[ She looks him over, assessing. ]

I suppose I cannot say otherwise. Though I've never been told I'm . . . nice.