driftfleet | 03 // Audio;

Who: Ladon Ceto and yooooou~
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Waystation, near a non-fleet ship.
When: Prior to leaving the waystation/VRD area (obviously)

[ There's a sniff when the feed kicks on, like someone with allergies or a slightly runny nose. When Ladon finally speaks, he sounds a bit out of breath. ]

Anyone wanna make some quick dough? Need some help loadin' a shuttle. By the red and black ship, one that ain't ours. Might pay extra if you don't go askin' too many questions.

[ Action; ]

[ Ladon can be found loitering around a non-fleet ship with an open cargo bay and one of the Tourist's shuttles. The ship appears to be outfitted to carry cargo, a good seven large crates of which have been brought down to the end of the loading ramp.

Ladon himself looks a little worse for wear. The sniffing appears to be the result of a bloody nose, which he keeps mopping with a handkerchief. His one eye is starting to turn black and blue, and there are a few spatters of blood that have likely ruined his new white t-shirt, along with a tear at the shoulder.

More observant parties might notice the taste of electricity in the air and the subtle smell of some sort of gasoline/lighter fluid-like chemical. Whoever the crew are for this ship, none of them are around. There are a few smears of blood on the loading ramp, but nothing large enough to indicate anything too nefarious.

Something's fishy, but that's why he's offering extra money for no questions asked, after all. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And you must be the one looking for help, then?

[It's no chance that Oren is passing by, and he announces that fairly easily. He also doesn't bother to hide the glance he takes around the area-- to the ramp, the ship, the cargo, all the way to Ladon, who he looks up and down.

He doesn't say anything. Extra, right?]

Still need it, my friend? What should I load?

[ Ladon looks up, caught off guard from attempting to stop his bloody nose. He nods then, gesturing to the large crates he's standing near. There's enough to fill the back of the shuttle, and each is large enough to make the lifting job difficult for one person. ]

Oh, yeah. Yeah. Still needin' help. S'a shipment of booze, delicate stuff. [ He taps the top of one crate and there's a faint rattling of glass. The bottles are secured but dropping the crates would likely result in quite the mess-- and worse, the loss of some decent alcohol. ]

Booze. And what a fine shipment it is!

[He's sort of wondering if he can make off with a bottle of it as part of his payment, but he'll save that for the end. For now, he steps over, crouching down to grip the sides of one of the crates and lift it carefully. They clink together slightly, but his grip is solid.]

Onto this one, over here?

Ran a bar at the station I was trapped on before. Hopin' to get one set up here, too.

[ Ladon helps with the other side of the crate. He's not terribly strong, but he can definitely provide some stability in getting the crates onto the shuttle. ] Yeah, should all fit no problem.

Ah, something always in high demand.

[Not a bad idea, really... Wherever he got this booze from. The signs are this way and that, but he's not going to focus on that. Instead, as they work to move the crate to the shuttle, he looks to Ladon.]

Let me know if you get it running. I'll be one of your first customers. There's a surprising lack of alcohol on my ship... I believe the others beat me to it.

Booze brings folks together, yeah?

[ Or something like that. Ladon's philosophy on Sacrosanct was that people who found themselves stuck in space needed a way of coping. And alcohol can help with that. Considering the fleet isn't too different in that aspect, he figures a bar can't hurt. ]

Sure, sure. Could even give you a bottle to sneak back with you, yeah? Won't go tellin' your crew if you don't.

Will you? Why, I'll have to come to your help more often.

[He won't argue against a bottle, not at all. A few more careful steps, and they manage to set this crate into place on the shuttle. He doesn't waste any time heading back out for the next.]

My name is Oren, by the way. I can't recall if I gave it to you the first time we spoke. [Or if he remembers the first time they spoke, but it's no loss if he doesn't. He was being a little passive aggressive...]

Might not be as well off here as I am at home, yeah? But I can always go payin' folks back in drinks or smokes. [ Largely because he seems to always have both on him. His addictions have a way of attaching themselves to him regardless of where he ends up. Now all he needs is a tool kit and selection of small, shiny things to pull apart and put back together. ]

Ladon. Good t'meetcha. Sorry if our first conversation wasn't so swell, yeah? Had a lot on my mind. [ He's well aware he's not the most pleasant person when he's in a broody or dark mood, and whether to go after someone who has hurt others in another timeline is a heavy subject. ]

Worry not. My mind was full of many things, as well, as I'm sure you noticed.

[He wasn't very much sprouting his usual subtlety that post. He scratches the side of his face with a sheepish laugh at that, stopping at the crates to reach for another.]

You'll have to forgive me, but just what do you mean by that? "Smokes?"

Ah, y'know. Cigarettes. Tobacco. [ Before taking up the other side of the box, he pulls a little tin out of his pocket and opens it to show off the row of cigarettes inside. ] They're called Slicks back home, but they sell somethin' similar at the waystations. S'good, too, get real fuckin' grumpy when I ain't had one in a while, yeah?

[Slicks. Cigarettes? Tabacco. His world has nothing of the sort, and as such, he's leaning in as much as he can with great curiosity. Little sticks, from the looks of it.

Why call them smokes?]

I'm afraid I'm not familiar. Are they so good as to create a bad mood in their absence? [He laughs a little sheepishly in his uncertainty, trying to cover up his lack of knowledge with what he thinks to be informed questions or comments.]

They don't seem to be smoking. [So... Why call them smokes? For that matter, slicks brings to mind a whole different set of associated words.]

[ He lifts his brow in surprise that Oren doesn't know what they are. He'd thought tobacco smoking was a universal thing. Or, well, in this case, multi-universal. He puts one of the cigarettes up to his lips and mimics smoking it. He's still not willing to risk lighting his own face on fire by actually doing so. ] S'because you light 'em up, smoke 'em yourself. S'probably for the better you don't start, though. Cousin thinks they're ruinin' my lungs but...

[ He shrugs. ] Somethin' they put in 'em, makes you crave 'em. Nerves get all jangled if I go too long. So you can imagine, other smokers never mind bummin' one or two.

A risk to your health and a craving in your mind! You've sold me just by the appeal of them, certainly.

[He's joking, amusement lighting up in his eyes as he watches with clear curiosity. Strange. What is the appeal, he wonders? But he can take a few guesses. The taste, the smell, the feel. Something good.

He's not interested enough to try one anytime soon, but perhaps he'll witness someone smoking at some point in the future.]

[ He shrugs. ] Fell into the habit 'cuz of the fellas I worked with. Aza's been ridin' me 'bout quittin', but that's easier said.

[ He's not sure why anyone who didn't have to cover up for natural smoke would start smoking, he supposes it's something having to do with the image. Most the actors and actresses in the flickers have a cigarette at some point, and it's all over the billboards and flyers. ]

I'd imagine so.

[Addictions are a powerful thing. He may not know cigarettes but he knows alcohol and he knows demons and there are plenty of things he can base comparisons on as far as addiction goes.

Again, they maneuver enough to set the crate down.]

A battle either way, I'd say.

03 // Audio;

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