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Episode 3 Aside 3: Introductions; Cor and Rez
Topic Started: Nov 7 2015, 04:42 PM (1,590 Views)
ILEV Constable
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Somewhere on Board the IAV Albright

Waiting for the ILEV Constable to arrive, two members of the new crew have met, but perhaps not under the best of conditions.

Prisoners have escaped. Prisoners who, through the grapevine, were rumored to be extremely dangerous and responsible for the deaths of three soldiers on Kerry.

The next thing they knew was that more deaths were reported on the Albright since their escape. Two men killed in the med bay and another killed in another part of the ship.

So per standard operating procedure, the blast doors were closed in the area where they were thought to be and if anyone is caught there, well, they are on their own.

Here is where Corlain Wallace (AKA Cor) and Rasputina Elizabeth Zokirova (AKA Rez) come in.



OOC: Good luck guys! If you need me to tweak the intro, please PM me.
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Corlain Wallace
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Corlain sat up and glanced around his room in brief confusion. Insomnia wasn't something that troubled him often, but when it did, it didn't hold back. The two previous nights had been physically and mentally exhausting and Cor had finally given in to his body's demands and decided to allow himself a brief nap. After laying in a state of half consciousness for almost ten minutes, he'd just begun to drift off when a raucous coming from outside his quarters woke him.

The sound of shouts and rapid footfalls brought him to alertness and he shook his head, banishing any fogginess that remained. "What the guai…" the words were muttered to no one in particular as Corlain slid his feet off the bed and slipped his boots on. Grabbed his Colt .45 from under his pillow and checking it briefly, he slipped it into its holster and strapped it to his thigh. With a small groan which was an entirely futile attempt to express just how tired he was, Cor rose and crossed to the door. Opening it warily, he leaned out into the corridor.

Seeing three soldiers approaching at a run, he stepped out and caught the arm of the nearest, "What's going on?"

The man slowed just long enough to get out a rushed reply, "The prisoners have escaped, killed two in the med bay."

Corlain had only been on the ship a short time, but he was reasonably sure that he knew the way to the med bay; if that's where the trouble was, that's where he needed to be. Starting off after the soldiers he quickly turned away from following them as they headed in the direction of the holding cells. Running left, he followed the narrow corridor for several minutes before descending a short flight of stairs and coming to an intersection.

Hesitating only briefly before continuing straight, his pace slowed as he neared the vicinity of the med bay. Drawing his .45, he moved quietly forward, passing the doors of a couple more personal quarters. Two more turns and he'd be there.

A strained voice came over the shipwide, calling for lockdown. It was garbled, but familiar; belonging to the officer who had shown Cor to his bunk when he first arrived. Racing forward, Corlain reached the end of the hall just as the blast door closed, sealing him in. Bringing his fist up he pounded the metal in momentary frustration. He should have been faster, someone could be dying on the other side of that door because he wasn't there to help. True, he'd never actually seen them, but he knew that the prisoners were dangerous and the death toll was only rising.

Beginning to pace back and forth in front of the door, he exhaled slowly; letting his frustration leave him with the expelled air. Glancing about the corridor once more, he dropped his Colt into its holster and stilled his pacing. Crossing to the blast door at the other end of the hall, he looked it over and his shoulders shook with a silent chuckle. Of all the places to get stuck, he had to pick the smallest hallway on the whole, gorram ship. With the way his day was going, the quarters on either side were probably unoccupied as well. Leaning his back against the metal of the door, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes with a sigh. Now all he had left to do was wait.
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Rez
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Alarm. Noun and verb. The former generally leading, in her mind, to the latter.

It usually started in her fingertips. A throbbing. Her pulse racing from her heart and through her body and to the tips of her fingers and the tops of her feet. Then came the rapid breathing, the rapid motion of her eyes. Her eyes, moving so quickly, attempting to take everything in, assess the danger and determine whether it was imminent. After that, it was the trembling. Her hands, then the rest of her body following shortly after. If she couldn't calm herself shortly after that, the final step was complete breakdown. That is to say, of the 'curl into a ball in the corner' variety.

Her hands were trembling now. From what she could gather, there had been a prison break, followed by some killing, as these things so often were. The blaring klaxon had sent her into a spiral, visions of armed killers invading her quarters and putting an end to the girl who never knew best. She wanted a cigarette, and she'd never even smoked.

She knew she couldn't just stand there and be an easy target, rationality attempting to kick open the locked door of fear. It would have suited her overwhelming fear just fine to lie down and die, if not for the fear of death. That alone was enough to get her moving.

She'd only just arrived a few days prior, a brief stop while waiting for her ship to come in. Her new job aboard Constable, working a state of the art forensics lab. The excitement when she'd gotten the call causing her a twenty minute crying jag in the bathroom of her favorite bar back home. The alcohol hadn't helped. Albright was nice, although a bit more sterile than she'd expected; a bit more cold. She hadn't slept much, and found herself mid-nap when the first signs of trouble appeared. The waking start hadn't helped any.

As such, she knew the ship was a decent size, though she wasn't overly familiar with it. Venturing out could have proved as dangerous as staying in, but at least out there she might come across help. In here, she was all alone. That was the worst way to be.

She briefly considered stopping to change clothes, but the only thing worse than being cornered in her room and shot dead would be cornered in her room half-naked and shot dead, so she quickly dismissed the notion. Instead, she opened the door and peered into the strobing light of the hallway, in her long white Oaty Bar t-shirt she got from sending in box tops, a pair of short black shorts (not pictured, as they didn't meet the length of the tee. It was a very comfy tee) and a pair of black flip-flops she'd stashed in the corner for wearing after her showers. Super pro, Rez.

The coast was clear of any gun- or bogeymen, and she ventured out, the alarm blaring. It was a bit overwhelming, but she knew she had to find somewhere secure, somewhere behind a soldier with a nice big gun.

A gun. He has a gun...

There was a man up ahead, but she registered his ready weapon before she registered the man. He was moving down the hallway, a garbled communique running through the PA and making the situation that much more surreal. She instinctively ducked behind a stantion supporting the wall, hugging her knees to her chest and hoping not to be seen, just as the security barriers came down.

She heard a bang against the metal, causing her to jump in surprise. She stole an ill-advised peek around her safety to see that she was locked in with the man and his gun. The panic started to set in again as she ducked back around her corner, hoping he didn't come for her. She tried to make herself as small as possible, which wasn't that hard for her.

She heard footsteps approach, and her whole body started in its tremble. He moved past her and she saw that he'd put his weapon away, She thought he looked familiar, but didn't place it until he turned around, showing her his face as he closed his eyes and sat.

It was that guy. What's his name? Corvac?

She hadn't been seen, by some miracle. Maybe he just didn't expect her, and that's why he missed her in the half second his eyes were toward her. Either way, she knew he wasn't a prisoner. She began to calm, slightly.

"Hey..." She said it as quietly as she could, though she probably couldn't manage much louder, and her voice was shaky. She held her hands up in submission, hoping beyond hope he'd see she was no threat in the moment.

Her hands were trembling.
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Corlain Wallace
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A quiet voice reached his ears and Corlain started momentarily, opening his eyes and probing the darkness until they located the small, huddled form. His hand instinctively drifted to the butt of his sidearm, but when his gaze finally found the face hidden behind all that t-shirt, Cor smiled and let his hand go slack. Well, if it wasn't the other transfer to the Constable. How could he have missed her sitting right there? He was supposed to be observant of his surroundings, especially in times of crisis. Maybe he didn't realize just how tired he was. Perhaps it was even a good thing that he hadn't made it through the door in time.

As she lifted her hands in what could possibly have been the most helpless gesture Cor had ever seen, he spoke up reassuringly, "Hey... Rasputina right?" It was something in which he took pride that he never forgot a name.

Her hands trembled and he lifted his, mimicking her gesture. I'm not going to hurt you, it's me: Corlain. The WPA Marshal." Taking a step forward, he flicked a hand toward the door, "And nobody's getting through that, it's made for situations just like this." Well, someone probably could, given the right hacking skills and mechanical knowledge. But if they did, Cor could easily subdue them in such a small space, so he didn't mention the possibility. She seemed stressed enough as it was.

Actually, stressed was probably the wrong way to describe her; she was a mess; definitely not a fighter. He logged that piece of information away in the back of his mind. From the way she was dressed it was likely the alarms and commotion had woken her as well; that was never a nice way to wake up. Realizing he was still in pajamas himself, Cor took a glance down at himself. A white tee that fit him far better than her's did, and loose fitting cargos. Well, at least he was wearing a shirt, that could have been awkward.

Dropping his hands he continued in the same, reassuring tone, "All we can do now is wait, they'll open things up again when everything is clear." Twisting his mouth ever so slightly to the side, Cor tried to think of something funny to say which would set her at ease. Instead, his mind came up blank. So he just grinned and said what he was feeling, "Kind of a let down actually, getting locked out of the action like that. I hate feeling useless."
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Rez
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Despite all of her caution, the first thing he did was reach for his weapon. She guessed it was only natural, at least for other people. "Lay down and die" wasn't really an option for the general public. Her heart attempted to leap out of her throat as his fingers brushed the handle gently, but then he held off, a look of recognition in his eyes. Her breath caught for a half second, and then she managed to remember how to breathe, exhaling slowly. Calming. Be calm.

"Hey... Rasputina right? I'm not going to hurt you, it's me: Corlain. The WPA Marshal."

Go se, of course, that was his name. She hated how bad she could be with names. She was much better with faces. She gave him a nod of confirmation, as he continued and attempted to assure her that no one could get through the heavy blast door. This, of course, was a hollow assurance. She knew that there were plenty of ways to get around any given problem, that door being no exception. But still, it was sweet of him to try. She could tell that she looked a total mess, and probably seemed like she needed to be talked down.

"All we can do now is wait, they'll open things up again when everything is clear. Kind of a let down actually, getting locked out of the action like that. I hate feeling useless."

Her face twisted into a slightly disbelieving expression. "Yeah, it's a real shame you not getting to shoot someone, or get shot, right?" Her voice was maybe a quarter confident, shuddering like a leaf in the wind. She closed her eyes, hating the sound of it. She also realized how much of a biao zi she came off as for saying it. Her hands reached up to rub her eyes, the heels pressing against them and making small circles, giving her that feeling of relief you could never describe, but everyone knows when they feel it. "Duibuqi, that wasn't... I didn't mean to say..." Her hands dropped back to her sides, and she opened her now slightly reddened eyes.

"I'm not very good at this. The, umm, talking but also the.. the.." Her finger pointed at the ceiling and made a few small circles as she searched her scattered mind for the word. "Crisis."

She shifted slightly in her corner, going from less of a 'dear god please don't let him find me' stance to more of a relaxed one. Not too relaxed, mind you. This wasn't the time for that. Besides, she was dressed like a thousand teenage sleepovers and her hair looked like a dead rat. Even putting the alarms aside, her confidence was around -237. Still, she fought for a way to normalize her body, forcing out the slightest of smiles. "I mean, an employee mixer would have been just fine if they wanted us to get to know one another. This seems a bit extreme, really."
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"Yeah, it's a real shame you not getting to shoot someone, or get shot, right?"

Corlain's brows drew together into the faintest frown. Had he really come across like that? That certainly wasn't what he meant. Shooting people was a horrible necessity and getting shot was, well… his frown deepened ever so slightly at the memory of the times he'd taken a piece of lead. There was really nothing like that feeling.

"No, that's not what… I didn't mean..." he started to explain himself but faded off as she spoke.

"Duibuqi, that wasn't... I didn't mean to say…"

Gos se, what was he thinking? She was a civilian, of course she'd interpret his words in the plainest sense. Not only that, she was in a high stress situation; she could say pretty much whatever she wanted and he couldn't hold it against her. He had to try to look at this through her eyes. Trapped with a lone gunman in an area where there were criminals on the loose.

"I'm not very good at this. The, umm, talking but also the.. the… Crisis."

Letting the frown vanish from his features, he walked over to the stantion opposite her and sat against it. Shrugging, he spoke simply, letting his exhaustion make its way into his voice, "Honestly, crisis is something you never get used to; it just surprises you less… and I'm not really good at it either, I just fake it. So far that's worked out okay."

As Rasputina settled herself, Cor watched her face. He hadn't given her more than a cursory appraisal when they'd first been introduced, but there wasn't any better time than crisis to study a person. She was - of course - scared and that made itself quite evident. But there was also an intelligence in her eyes that was bared by the fear; made more easily noticeable to the casual observer. It made sense, she was a forensic scientist, after all. He just hoped she'd be calmer on a crime scene than she was now.

At her comment he laughed out loud, "I suppose, I've never been a fan of those. Everything seems kinda forced." Putting on a serious air, he nodded to himself, "But you're right, definitely extreme. Maybe we should lodge a complaint with Captain Murch…" Tilting his head in concession he continued, "On the other hand, I could have just put in earplugs and stayed in my bunk." He chuckled, "I think I'm quickly coming to the point where I'd gladly be killed in my sleep as long as I don't have to get up."
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Well, this is off to the expected start... She had anticipated nothing less than the total awkwardness that comes with off-handedly implying that the man across the walled-off hallway was totally into shooting people. If there wasn't a bar, music, and a dress that fit oh-so-right, she was flopping about like a fish on dry land. It was too bad, because Corlain, as she came to learn his name actually was, seemed like a pretty nice guy.

"Honestly, crisis is something you never get used to; it just surprises you less… and I'm not really good at it either, I just fake it. So far that's worked out okay."

He was trying to reassure her, trying to make her feel like she wasn't alone in feeling the way she felt. He was absolutely lying, of course. This was a guy who was an expert in just this sort of situation. Now that his presence had managed to calm her, just a bit, she was starting to get her thoughts in order. Corlain Wallace was, as introduced, a man who worked in Witness Protection. If that wasn't crisis after crisis, she didn't know what was. Witnesses testified in trials all the time without needing much protection beyond the odd police detail. Total relocation was reserved for the worst of the worst case scenarios.

This was a man who could probably handle just about anything.

"On the other hand, I could have just put in earplugs and stayed in my bunk. I think I'm quickly coming to the point where I'd gladly be killed in my sleep as long as I don't have to get up."

Humor, now, but another lie. She smiled slightly at the joke, managing that, at least. "I don't believe that for a second. Guy like you can't wait to get in and be the hero. That's admirable, but I can't really relate. I'm more the curl-up-and-die type. You're the one who runs in, throws everyone on his back, and carries them out." She tilted her head, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Corlain, but you're not going to fool me. I know who you are, I knew the second I saw you running down the hallway... err, after I realized you weren't looking to kill me, anyway. It's a science."

Her toes curled slightly as she spoke, and she could feel herself finally coming down off of that shaky high. He'd managed to put her at ease, and she was eternally grateful for it. He also was nice to talk to, and that was a good thing. Who knew how long they would be stuck inside this tiny little bunker?

"It's like my great-aunt Durdona used to tell me: Agar kitob o'qish mumkin kabi osonlik bilan bir kishini topish mumkin. 'You can read a man as easily as you can read a book.'" A fully formed smile came out now, impressed that she'd hit all the accents. "Of course, usually I just skim a man. Sometimes I miss a few details, but I think I'm not wrong about you..."
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Corlain Wallace
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His words elicited a hint of a smile, that was a minor victory in and of itself; even if he hadn't been trying to be particularly funny.

"I don't believe that for a second. Guy like you can't wait to get in and be the hero. That's admirable, but I can't really relate. I'm more the curl-up-and-die type. You're the one who runs in, throws everyone on his back, and carries them out."

Cor shook his head internally. He was no hero, he didn't want to be a hero and didn't like anyone thinking of him as a hero. The shoes of a hero were too big for him to fill and frankly, anyone who thought of him as one had a let down in store somewhere along the line. He was just a man who'd learned a long time ago how to take doubt, fear, worry and reasonable self preservation, and shelve them in times of crisis. They were still present, he just ignored them. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was really open to debate.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Corlain, but you're not going to fool me. I know who you are, I knew the second I saw you running down the hallway... err, after I realized you weren't looking to kill me, anyway. It's a science."

Well now, that made him smile. A science. He opened his mouth to reply, but waited as she continued.

"It's like my great-aunt Durdona used to tell me: Agar kitob o'qish mumkin kabi osonlik bilan bir kishini topish mumkin. 'You can read a man as easily as you can read a book. Of course, usually I just skim a man. Sometimes I miss a few details, but I think I'm not wrong about you..."

"Not all books are easily read," his head dipped in concession, "but I will concede that many are. If, however, you skim a difficult book, you might come under the illusion that it is needlessly complicated or entirely frivolous." Cor intertwined his hands and rested them on his stomach, reclining as he did so. "Even psychology is forced to admit that there will always be those who defy the model."

Pulling his mouth to the side he shrugged. "I won't argue any of your assumptions about me, but I do warn that often the way we perceive others is shaped mainly by what we want them to be, mixed with first impressions, rather than what they actually are. I've known people who to this day believe me to be something I'm not, simply because they won't let their initial perception be shaken."

Letting a grin make its way across his features, Cor went on, "For example, my first impressions might be that you like to wear overly large clothing and enjoy," he shuddered in mock horror, "oaty bars." Finishing, he waggled his eyebrows at her in a 'how about that?' fashion. Despite her protestations that she knew exactly what he was doing, it was working nonetheless and she was calming down enough to make ordinary conversation. Corlain would gladly talk for hours about anything and everything if it meant keeping things calm and at ground level. Even if that included the oaty bar. To his mind, board would always trump panicked.
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He continued on with his modesty, and she watched his face for any sign of falsehood. She didn't find any. This wasn't some 'aw-shucksy' fakery for her benefit; he honestly didn't believe he was a hero. She knew that a lot of folks in the military and law enforcement felt exactly the way he did, so it wasn't a surprise. But still, she figured that he wouldn't run headlong into danger if he didn't have at least a little heroism in his genes.

And then came his fashion critique.

”For example, my first impressions might be that you like to wear overly large clothing and enjoy oaty bars.” His shudder was a perfect piece of punctuation, directly demonstrating his derision. It made her a bit self conscious again, and she curled up a little bit tighter, into the shelter of the overlarge shirt. Her toes were just barely peeking out from under the hem.

”Hey, now... do you know how many box tops I had to collect to get this shirt? Do you know how many bars I had to eat? This right here is the fruit of so much hard work and digestive regularity, and I won't have your sass about it!” She laughed at the end, trying to make sure that he didn't think she was completely serious or even at all offended. She knew how divisive the Fruity Oaty Bar could be.

So he didn't like them? Nobody was perfect.

”Anyway, yes, I was asleep when the alarms went off. Of course, I'm in an unfamiliar place, so I haven't really been comfortable yet. Which I guess is lucky, because if I were comfortable, I wouldn't even be wearing--” She stopped the motor of her mouth right there, though she was certain that the message had been delivered loud and clear regardless. Her cheeks flushed again, feeling like Queen Idiot for putting that image into his mind.

”Uhh, yeah, anyway... I'll, umm, I'll try not to put too much faith in you, if you don't think you can pass muster. Wouldn't want you to feel any undue pressure on my part.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, looking around. Anywhere but at him. Yep, same hallway as before. This was a nightmare.

”So... where did you come here from? What brings you to Constable, I mean?” That ought to do it. Steer the conversation back toward him, and as far away from her and her sleeping habits as possible.
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”Hey, now... do you know how many box tops I had to collect to get this shirt? Do you know how many bars I had to eat?" Now there was a mortifying thought. ”This right here is the fruit of so much hard work and digestive regularity, and I won't have your sass about it!”

Cor shook his head forlornly, "It is truly a grave mystery to me how a company can attain so many devoted followers when offering such an ersatz product. But perhaps it is the shirts, I had never considered them before."

So he'd been right about her sleeping and, oh dear… Well, on the bright side, at least she stopped herself from finishing the sentence.

Perhaps he'd underestimated how nervous she still was. The situation had calmed down substantially so it was likely it was him who was making her nervous; something he hadn't even considered previously. But now that he thought about it, it did make sense. She was - after all - in a vulnerable position and alone with a stranger in a strange place, dressed in pajamas. Cor kicked himself for not thinking of it before because - now that she'd almost said what she had - there was no way he could gracefully offer to guard the hall while she got dressed. It would just be awkward.

Her voice broke his train of thought, ”Uhh, yeah, anyway... I'll, umm, I'll try not to put too much faith in you, if you don't think you can pass muster. Wouldn't want you to feel any undue pressure on my part.”

"I always say it's best to expect very little from people, then you'll be pleasantly surprised if you're wrong and won't take a hit if you're right." he smiled faintly. As Rasputina glanced awkwardly about, he quickly decided to change the topic. She beat him to it by half a second.

”So... where did you come here from? What brings you to Constable, I mean?”

Good choice, people like talking about themselves. "Well, I'm from Bernadette originally, but I've been pretty much everywhere. Did a stint as an ordinary ole' Marshal before the WPA picked me up, and travel is just part of the job. Hm…" he settled needlessly and stared in silence at the wall above her head for a long moment before continuing, "I guess it's something I've taken for granted. Some people never get off-world at all. Anyway, as far as the Constable goes, the WPA asked and I said yes. They have their reasons and I have my suspicions what those might be," he grinned, "but if I told you those I'd have to kill you."

His gaze settled once more on the wall as his mind wandered. Starting rather suddenly from his reverie, he looked at her once more, "Howabout you?"
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"I always say it's best to expect very little from people, then you'll be pleasantly surprised if you're wrong and won't take a hit if you're right."

Well, that's depressing... It was such a sour outlook, and yet so many people lived that way. Just expect the worst of everybody, and you'll never be disappointed. But the thing was, you constantly thought the worst things about everybody, and wasn't that disappointing? She just didn't get why anyone would want that as their life philosophy but, hey, to each their own. It wasn't her place to tell anyone else how to live, and she wasn't about to start with this guy.

His abbreviated life story came next, basically detailing his career. Nothing much about his family life, which was telling, though what it told she wasn't exactly sure. The bit at the end about killing was a bit disconcerting, and made her toes curl up slightly again, but she tried to remind herself that it was just an expression that people thought was funny... for some reason.

"Uhh, well, I'm from the Core, mostly. Parents were professors on Osiris, I was the little wunderkind. Fell in love with science, so that's what I decided to, um, do. Went to school, got my PhD in Biology, worked in pharma before I started doing this because it seemed... interesting."

She shrugged. "I just wanted to do some good in the world, whatever that means. If there's one thing of mine that I think requires constant maintenance and validation, it's my sense of self worth. So, if I can put this beautiful brain of mine to work catching bad guys, then I guess that's what I should be doing. I think that the dead deserve... justice."

She closed her eyes then, rubbing her eyelids with her thumb and index finger, across the bridge of her nose. "I, uh, also get kind of sick, a lot. Weak constitution, I guess. So if I tend to look like crap, that's why. I promise, I try to take care of myself..."
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Definitely a Core-girl, she didn't have to tell him; reading people was part of his job and even without that it was plain as day… however plain that was out in the black. She just had the Core feel, it was never something Corlain could pin down - a softness, or tidiness or anything like that - it was just the way they seemed to look at the world around them. Perhaps it was just that he knew the people on the rim and those from the Core lacked something that they had. Whatever the case, he could just tell.

"Parents were professors on Osiris, I was the little wunderkind. Fell in love with science, so that's what I decided to, um, do. Went to school, got my PhD in Biology, worked in pharma before I started doing this because it seemed... interesting."

Well, if she wanted 'interesting', she'd found her niche; criminal science was as varied as the criminals who necessitated it. Sickeningly so, really. That was probably the part of it he hated most; seeing just how imaginative and twisted the criminal mind could be.

"I just wanted to do some good in the world, whatever that means. If there's one thing of mine that I think requires constant maintenance and validation, it's my sense of self worth. So, if I can put this beautiful brain of mine to work catching bad guys, then I guess that's what I should be doing. I think that the dead deserve... justice."

"Good is less of an ethereal concept than most think…" his words were spoken quietly, more for his edification than hers.

"I, uh, also get kind of sick, a lot. Weak constitution, I guess. So if I tend to look like crap, that's why. I promise, I try to take care of myself..."

Cor laughed loudly, "You? Look like crap? No; not even in that ridiculous shirt. A little harried, maybe. But not crap. Now me… I can only imagine. I have literally gotten no more than three hours of solid sleep in the last two days." Stilling his mirth, he gestured to her current outfit, "Now, I wouldn't really say that I'd wear that to the Bridge, but that's just my personal taste. Maybe Murch 'adores the Oaty'." he shrugged.

As he mentioned the Bridge, Cor found himself feeling useless once more. Standing suddenly, he moved to the closest blast door in a futile attempt to still the returning feeling of impotence. "I do wonder how long they're planning on keeping us locked in here. I was so close to the Medbay, I could have detained the prisoners, but now… they could have moved anywhere." He glanced back at her, "When lockdown is lifted, what are you going to do? Go back to bed?" His tone was anything but accusatory, driven by genuine curiosity.
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Rez
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He had a pretty good handle on things, that was for sure. He managed to deflect her self deprecation without going too far in the other direction, which she appreciated. Far too often, especially when dealing with men, beating down on your appearance led to panic on the masculine end, leading to 'Oh, no, you're beautiful, what are you talking about? You look GREAT.' It was kind of sad. A girl knew when she wasn't at her best. She supposed harried was a good way of describing her right now. So, he was a gentleman diplomat.

Then he described his own insomnia, and it was worlds more comforting than any false platitude would have been. To know that she wasn't alone in her lack of sleep, in her difficulty adjusting to the unfamiliar. She almost started to see him as an ally. They were drawn to this place, together. They were headed in the same direction, together. They were starting new work, together. And they couldn't sleep, together.

That last bit sounds weird, out of context.

He stood up, and she watched him move once again to the immovable object. The blast doors were heavy, and that was a comfort to her, as well. Whatever was out there was surely not getting in here. She could tell, though, that he wasn't content with the situation, and he even said as much. She wasn't sure what to say. She just kind of watched him, awkwardly, her pulse finally starting to regulate.

"When lockdown is lifted, what are you going to do? Go back to bed?"

She blinked, looking up and realizing he was looking back again. "I, uhh... probably not. Maybe I'll take a shower. That seems nice. Get clean of all of this, you know?" She meant it literally and figuratively. The panic was sweaty, and sweaty was gross, and she was so glad that he was so far away from her right now. She probably smelled something fierce. But apart from that, the warm water would be nice and calming. A lover's embrace for the perpetually single. "Kind of like hitting the reset button on your day, right?"

It felt good just thinking about it. So good, in fact, that her brain took a walk on her and continued with the line of thought until it was too late to stop herself.

"Do you like showers.... too...?"

Baichi...
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Corlain Wallace
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"I, uhh... probably not. Maybe I'll take a shower. That seems nice. Get clean of all of this, you know?"

Made sense. He'd like to do the same had he the time. It would really depend on the state of things when lockdown was lifted. He'd likely head to the bridge and offer his services to the Captain, but if he was dismissed? Yeah, a shower would be awesome. "Kind of like hitting the reset button on your day, right?" He nodded, "Couldn't have said it better myself."

Her question was uncomfortable, but he really should have expected it by now. At least he'd learned enough about her to be relatively sure she wasn't being forward, just rambling - if one would call it that. Additionally, her expression was anything but seductive, which was good, because he'd only just met her and wasn't that kind of guy. Few things were quite as embarrassing as having to douse a forward party with a figurative bucket of ice-water. Given the circumstances, he simply had to be purposely ignorant as to any extra meaning behind her words. He was good at being purposely ignorant.

"Haven't met anyone yet who doesn't. How much I like them generally falls in step with how long it's been since I had one, if you know what I mean." He smiled, "I remember this one time I was out on the Rim; near Blue Sun. I was on a real clunker, I think it was called The Mudfish," he furrowed his brow in remembrance, "Yeah, Mudfish. Anyway, we were traveling right through Uroborus when our nav-system went on the fritz." Cor laughed, "We were out there for weeks putzing around in circles. The one saving grace was that the ship was a food transport bound for New Canaan, so we had plenty to eat. It turned out a wire or two had come loose. It was right under our noses the whole time." Leaning against the door he scratched the back of his head, "The ship barely had a sink, let alone a shower so when we got out of there, let me tell you…" he grinned, "That's what I think about when I consider how much I like showers."

He loved that story. At the time it hadn't been very funny, but looking back it was with fondness. A forced 'vacation' between cases, if one could call that misery a vacation.

"I wish I had time for a shower, but when they let us go, I'm going to head to the bridge. The Captain might need a hand in some way or another and I want to be present just in case he does."
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Rez
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She was surprised, really, when he took her stupidly awkward question and just... ran with it. He shared this ridiculous story about a ridiculous ship - who called their ship the Mudfish, anyway? - and put her right back at ease. He was good at that. Almost too good.

She was glad he was around. Being locked in alone would have been a nightmare.

"Of course, you're going to run right back into things. I get it. Wish I could be like that..." She smiled and pushed herself to her feet, bare toes wiggling against the deck. She straightened her posture and saluted. "Maybe I could go up there with you, like this. 'Sir, yes sir! Anything you need, sir! Forensic Specialist Rasputina Zokirova ready to gather fingerprints for analysis, sir!'" She had no idea why she was doing this, only that she was, and that she probably looked ridiculous. It gave her a fit of nervous giggles that she couldn't hold off for a moment. And it felt good.

She shook her head, dropping her arm back to her side. "You're a real boy scout, Corlain. I think we're going to be lucky to have you aboard... at least, I know who to go to when I'm half dressed and fully panicked."

She started looking around again. "The funny thing is, the people they're looking for probably never came in this direction. There are far more efficient ways to get off of the ship than to come down this way. Maybe they wouldn't know that, but something about this situation tells me that they would. In fact, I'm willing to bet they're already off the ship. This is all set dressing, at this point. The soldiers are doing a sweep to make sure they aren't hiding, but they probably know full well their fugees aren't on board anymore..."

She blinked, then turned her gaze back to him. "Ahh, that is, in my professional opinion."
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