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In Your Eyes There's A Heavy Blue; The Izzy and Brooks Affair
Topic Started: Jan 11 2018, 10:37 PM (193 Views)
Isabel Cortes
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Not so long ago, in this same galaxy.

Isabel pushed her hover cart down the cargo ramp, boots clomping loudly on the metal. She didn't bother trying to hide her irritation. Yet another job had gone the way of the dodo, through no fault of her own. Now she was stuck on this crap hole of a planet until she could find a place on another ship. There was no telling how long that would take. Getting work here was likely to be easy enough. Work was nearly always available for a mechanic of her caliber. Especially one who came with her own tools. Tools she had nearly lost, thanks to the idiot now former captain, and had had to show documentation for to prove they belonged to her and had not already been present on the ship when she signed on. The obvious high quality and well-cared-for condition of the tools as well as their organization should have been enough to show the 'captain' had rut-all to do with them. She had come within inches of taking her biggest heaviest wrench and just braining the jackass who dared to cast his greedy eyes at her tools, and hauling them off the ship while he was unconscious. Fortunately, it hadn't come to that.

And maybe... just maybe... while she was stuck on this dirtball for now, she would be fortunate enough to not be stuck on it alone. Izzy parked her hover cart in a spot where she wouldn't be in the way, and leaned against it. She exchanged a few farewells with some of her now former crew mates who trickled out after her, a bag or two in hand with everything they owned stuffed inside. When the former captain walked past, however, he was met with a glare and stony silence. It was all his fault the ship had been seized and the crew ousted from it to be replaced with one already hand picked by the new captain. He had the grace to look ashamed of himself for a moment but slunk away when she didn't relent.

Finally, the one she had been waiting for made his way down the cargo ramp. The ship's handsome and highly charismatic pilot, with whom she had formed a fairly close friendship during their time on board. "I'm planning to find a secure place to stash my gear and luggage, then go get solidly drunk. Wanna join me?" she asked, flashing him a bright smile. Izzy wasn't one to get sloshed on a regular basis, but sometimes the situation warranted it. This was one of those times. She really didn't want to drink alone, so she hoped Brooks would take her up on her invitation. She would even pay for the first round.
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Brooks Bergstrom
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In all honesty, he was starting to lose track of how many this was.

So many jobs had gone away, evaporated. This was just the latest in the string. The dirty little rat of a captain had been accruing debt behind all of their backs, and ended up getting his ship impounded. No more ship meant no more crew, and so after packing up rather quickly, Brooks was ready to undergo the ritual.

He did the same thing every time the jobs went away: he took his savings account and gave it to a bar. What was the sense of making money, after all, if you weren't going to enjoy it? He would avail himself of the pleasures of wine, women, and song until he couldn't afford to anymore, and then he would find a new job. It was the cycle, and it had been working for him just fine so far.

He slung his heavy bag over his shoulder and made his way toward the ramp and fresh air and solid ground under his feet. Spending so much time at the helm had a way of making a man forget the way real dirt felt sometimes. His boots thumped against the deck, echoing through what used to be home. The latest of many, but not the last.

And that's where he found her waiting.

Izzy was probably his closest friend on the crew, this time. Pilot and mechanic were often tasked to work as a unit, and they had gotten one another out of a few jams over the course of the journey. That being said, this was the first time that someone had stuck around after one of these flameouts. This was something new. He liked new. He smiled at her as he descended the ramp.

"I'm planning to find a secure place to stash my gear and luggage, then go get solidly drunk. Wanna join me?"

He chuckled at this, pulling up beside her and her hover cart. "Well, that's a hell of an invitation. What warm-blooded man would ever turn down such an invitation?" He gave her a smile and ran his fingers through his hair. "That is to say: you read my mind. Do you mind...?"

He didn't wait for an answer, but found an empty spot on the cart to set down his bag with a soft grunt of exertion. He knew there would be no objection - the two of them had developed such an easy rapport while they'd traveled together that they'd do just about anything for one another. Crews were often like family, but that usually happened over long periods of time. They hadn't known one another for too long, but he already felt some sort of connection to Izzy.

"So, that was fun. Not my first marooning, either, let me tell you. That being said, I'm not sure I've ever been here before so if you have any suggestions on where I can set up residence until I'm broke, I'm all ears."

He grinned again, trying to look playful rather than pathetic. He knew how 'desperate bachelor' it sounded when he explained his post-work ritual. He normally didn't care, but with her he did. He hoped she wouldn't be to judgey.
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Isabel Cortes
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If it had been anyone other than Brooks, Isabel would have been long gone by now. She hadn't developed anywhere near the level of friendship with any of their other crewmates that she had with him. Most of them just weren't any fun in a social setting, though they knew their gose when it came to their respective jobs. He was different in that way. While he too knew his gose, he also knew how to relax and enjoy himself.

Her invitation hadn't been issued with any intention besides drowning their sorrows for a night and blowing off some steam. Speaking for herself, she was up for almost anything as long as it wasn't illegal and didn't put their lives and limbs at risk. "One who isn't interested in women, or in fun?" she replied to the probably rhetorical question, smirking and quirking an eyebrow at the movie-star-handsome man. "You know I don't" she answered the not so rhetorical one even as he was putting his bag down on her hover cart. The device could easily handle the relatively small additional weight. It could probably easily handle his weight too, but she wasn't going to tell him that. She'd probably never get him to get off it otherwise, and she was not about to be put in the position of pushing him around as though he were an invalid or a child in a baby carriage.

"Not mine, either, to be honest" she admitted. It was part of why she carried around documentation proving her very expensive and equally high quality tools were, in fact, hers. She didn't want anyone trying to claim them for their own, whether in an attempt to simply cheat her and take advantage of her or whether in an attempt to pay off someone else's debts. Even before she had left Sihnon, she had known full well there were plenty of unscrupulous people in the 'Verse who would stoop to such lows. "I can't say as I've been here before myself, but I do know a thing or two about choosing places to take up residence. Whatever rock you end up on, certain things are pretty much universal across the 'Verse." Reading people, places, and or situations was one of the skills she had picked up from her fathers and other companion or companion associated types. It had come in handy every time she had found herself on an unfamiliar world. No doubt it would do so this time, as well.

"C'mon. Let's go see what we can find" she said, putting her hover cart in gear and starting off, knowing Brooks would be right alongside her. She passed by the first few places, which made an effort to look appealing to the eye and high end but to anyone with the skills to spot it were in actuality obviously done up as cheaply as possible. The people who were 'employed' there were of a rather shady nature, despite their apparent gregariousness and friendly cheer. There was a certain predatory air about them. She passed by another that was clearly a brothel, one that was marketed as 'quaintly old-fashioned' but which was clearly ready to fall down around the ears of those inside at the least provocation and was probably infested with bugs of varying kinds to boot, and others that had one thing or another wrong with them. Things she pointed out to Brooks as they walked. "Let's check out this one" she said, finally, stopping in front of one of the places farther from the spaceport. What she could see of the building's outside areas and of the people who were both employed there and conducting business there looked promising. She would assess the inside when they got there.
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