Log:A Lothable Situation Indeed
[ Amallia Madine (Mollie) | 20:02:39 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
It's been a banner week for the Heliost crew. Karma must exist in this galaxy in some form or another, because after opting to drop off the metric truck-load of Alderaanian artifacts at a proper museum curator (for a fraction of the credits), they hit two extra-delivery bonus shipments of high quality spice in a row. The palette of alderaanian bubbly certainly didn't hurt, either. Hundreds of bottles of carbonated wine made from grape varietals that are literally extinct. It certainly takes the sting out of things as the crew careens through an extra-long hyperspace jaunt with their latest shipment of less-than-legal goods.
Mollie Madine is celebrating, lounging on the couch in a pair of green cotton shorts her very ugly (but festive!) live day sweater. Her hair's a bit of a mess, but the only person who probably cares about that is Phia. Mollie has one of those aforementioned bottles of Alderaanian bubbly in one hand and a coup glass in the other. She's waving both around as she speaks, communicating as much with her hands as she does with her words.
"And I was -good-, you know? Convincing and sexy. He had no idea we were fleecing him," she says. "I was a little nervous, of course. He's the scheisty sort, you know? I mean what kind of man only speaks of himself in third person? He says he's from Kuat, but nobody from Kuat that I've met speaks like that. Anyway, dumped all his creds into Phia's account. No way he finds us, though. What's he going to do? Look up 'Phia Ras Rajan' on the Holo?" Mollie says, and laughs.
Yeah, that's probably exactly what she's going to do.
She bites down on the cork between her molars and gives a tug It takes a bit of time and a lot of twisting, but eventually that cork comes undone with a -pop- that nobody who is any fun at all can resist sticking both of their hands into the air at. Mollie Madine included.
"Aayyyyyyy!" comes her voice, slightly obscured by the cork, which she spits from her mouth with a 'pffthoo!' onto the durasteel grated floor.
[PASS ( +13)] Zevin Daodhri's Entertain:cooking @ (100) diff.
[ Zevin Daodhri (Zev) | 20:14:58 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- A hiss comes from the kitchen as water hits a hot pan, some of the steam escaping before the ventilator can suck it in. Out comes the resident Mandalorian with two more of those glasses held by the stem in his right hand, and a platter of some green and yellow slices of a vegetable with a very light breading on the outside. They are stacked with paper towels between layers. "Hottest 're on top, take 'em from further down."
He holds out a glass for Mollie to pour into and slides one of the smaller slices into his mouth. "Mmmmmm." They are hearty, with a crunch to them still and very small seeds still here and there, while the breading has just a touch of kick. He sets them down on the table.
He passes the filled glass along to someone else and holds the other one out for Mollie to pour. "Wouldn't a' believed it if I hadn't seen the transfer, m'self, but y'all did it proper. Are we toastin', or just drinkin'?" =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
[ Trip (Tri) | 20:20:45 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Trip is a Kushiban passenger being offered (swindled) a ride on this wonderful vessel. For him, it might as well be a flying fortress, what with tall corridors and giant people every where. For his part during this quest, at least in the story, he's largely unknown. Without armor, Trip looks like any other Lagomorph, larger perhaps and he prefers to stand on two feet as opposed to the common 'all fours'. He has a long tail, biiiiig green eyes, and tall erect, and alert ears that droop from time to time and add to his expressive 'mood' fur, that changes color depending on his distress. For a neutral laid back situation like present, his fur is solid white, and his tail flicks idly as he sits upon the shoulder of Madine, his barefeet handing idly as he watches the effort made in opening the bottle of bubbly. "Why not toast /and/ drink, good sir? I daresay it does warrant the occasion." Oh, and he speaks, elegantly at that. Trip's bucktooth smile looks more akin to a smirk as he regards those present in the large berthing.
Amphia Ras Rajan, said beneficiary of the aggressive dumping of credits is lounging on the arm of the couch, distant enough to assert her own personal space while still being in range to steal some bubbly wine. Phia likes anything with bubbles in it, and she's got her own little bottle which she's nursing like it's a baby and she's a responsible adult with some sort of maternal capacity. Those dark eyes narrow at Mollie, though whether in affection or amusement at her antics is hard to tell.
"You told him his chest hair was fluffy." She reminds Mollie, sounding partially exasperated and partially charmed. She plucks at the cork of her own bottle, but it's already been opened and she pries the cork away with little fuss, taking a mouthful of the wine and crinkling her nose in enjoyment. Monsigneur, we've bottled the stars. If only.
Phia watches the cork go flying, a perfect brow arching---she herself has deigned to wear a strappy tank top, tight-fitting black shorts and her usual silk kimono---her hair has been piled up on her head, and there is a definite bruise on one collar bone that is a very vibrant indigo against olive skin. Another mars her elbow---she moves it as if it's tender when she lifts the bottle for another swig, but there are no outward complaints---her face remains serene and controlled as always.
One long olive leg extends to prod at the captain, but it's quick to retreat after she makes contact with a shoulder, nose scrunching in amusement. "He did seem to enjoy being complimented on his chest hair though. Is that a thing for men? Inquiring sources want to know."
"I mean, it was work though. I still have rug burns. Tragic." It truly is. Her arm curls around her bottle in a protective manner when glasses start coming out---first it's an offer, and then it's people judging you for taking your liquor honestly and by the bottle."
[ Amallia Madine (Mollie) | 20:39:00 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Mollie immediately leans forward to grab the topmost fried vegetable cake and recklessly take a bite. It's an instantaneous regret, of course. The crunchy, delicious exterior yields to a soft and absolutely molten interior that burns her mouth. She quickly tips down the coup filled with champagne and tops it off with the bottle. As she swishes it around in her mouth, she glares in Phia's direction.
"I didn't!" Mollie insists as she pours out some bubbly for herself as well as some for the Kushiban on her shoulder. Has she introduced him? Probably. He's sitting on her shoulder, after all, it'd be a bit weird if nobody knew his name. "I said his chest hair was -hairy-. It's totally different," she says, and passes the bottle to Zevin to pass around amongst the crew. It's not like there's a shortage of them, though. On the table adjacent to the sofa that she, Trip, and at the very least Phia are resting on, there are several other bottles with a frosted sort of chill on their outside.
"Oi," Mollie says, laughing at the prod of the foot against her leg. Any follow-up to inquiring sources and their want to know is interrupted when an overhead alarm triggers. The lights dim, and a red lamplight begins to slowly strobe. Mollie wrinkles her nose up towards it and shifts in her seat. "That's odd," Mollie murmurs.
She swings off the couch in a way that makes it easy for Trip to remain on her shoulder and... ride her... across the floor and towards a nearby diagnostic station. Her head tips to the side, chin-length blonde hair caressing across her jawline as she puzzles at the readout.
"Unidentified life forms detected in the cargo bay?" she says, upward inflection and all.
"...Unidentified life forms detected in the cargo bay?!" she repeats, and immediately closes the distances to hide behind Zevin. She lifts her index finger to point towards the cargo bay doors, peeking out from behind his arm. Ah, the fearless captain Mollie Madine.
"It's the mynocks, isn't it? We didn't get them all and now we're infested," she says, voice small and distinctly traumatized. She was nearly bitten, after all.
"You're the Mando, Zevin. Go and... go and look," she says. Is she ordering or is she pleading?
[ Zevin Daodhri (Zev) | 20:50:33 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Zevin sighs. He pops another two vegetables in his mouth, crunching on them, swallowing, and then washing it down with some bubbly. Only then does he walks towards the cargo hold, grabbing his helmet off the table and snugging it down in place. He vanishes out of sight before there's the sound of scarcely contained electricity and the hiss of the door opening. No signs of fighting immediately ensue, but he's gone for about ten minutes before his voice comes over the intercom. <"Good news, and bad news. No mynocks or hostile boarders."> Then it cuts off.
The door hisses open again, and out comes the Mandalorian, weapons put away, helmet still on, carrying a crate. <"Th' bad news has some good news too."> Something's moving, visible through the holes in the side of the crate. <"Good news: they're adorable."> There are little sounds, too soft to make it out until he takes the lid off. He lifts out a Loth cat gently. This one is a tuxedo, black and white with white on the paws and underside and wide, vulnerable eyes. He holds it cradled up against his armored chest, and it mews as he scratches behind its ears. He pulls a datacard out of his belt and sets it in Mollie's hands. <"Bad news, one a' those pallets is full a' these boxes, and they ain't goin' to no pet store or wildlife sanctuary.">
With the top off, kittens are starting to peek over the side. Some go tumbling over onto the grated floor. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
[ Amallia Madine (Mollie) | 20:54:13 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The datacard presented to Mollie Madine is ordinary and easily accessible. Mollie, however, seems far too interested in the mewling loth-kittens within the crate to bother with it. Instead, she sets it on the table in front of the couch in a spot that could be accessed by any of the curious crewmembers.
[ Phia Rajan (Phia) | 20:56:33 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
You know how sometimes you just aren't equipped to deal with something that's happening to you? That's sort of how Phia feels at the moment. Alarms start going off, because of course they do, but this does not feel like a thing she's equipped to handle when she's half a bottle into a bender and not interested in getting bitten or killed. She actually makes this little whining noise of irritation as she sets her bottle aside, and stands to go hover near the big man and his hang-on captain and the cutest passenger ever. She's not yet drunk enough to try and ask if she can cuddle poor Trip but it's an inevitability.
And then cats happen. Phia actually gasps and her face lights up in this just. Sort of horrifying manic glee---they don't really have pets on hapan. They have fashion statement pieces. But this thing. She wants to touch it.
[ Trip (Tri) | 20:59:00 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The Kushiban continues its perch atop Mollie's shoulder and observes what transpires. His fur changes from white to a light grey bordering a darker shade each minute that passes and there's no word. What could fell a Mandalorian?! Trip's clawed paw lightly taps the pommel of his knife/sword, the only weapon visible upon the creature that was fed through the elaborate leather baldric worn upon his torso.
Zevin's return yields concern, too, and the Kushiban's ears drop from their erect orientation to laying down his back as his eyes take in the sight of the creature, correction, creatures that tumble out. "The foulest beasts, these things. Playing with their prey, batting with their clawed paws. They will not find me so easily bewitched with forlorn eyes and cute mannerisms." The Lagomorph draws his steel in a short rasp and points his weapon (whilst staying atop his ride). "Have at you feline predators! As luck would have it, I am in need of an expensive coat." Trip's fur begins to turn black.
Trip draws his Combat Knife - 14216.
You summon a Mercenary (Cheap) named Sweet Widdle Woth Kittens and it appears in the room with you!
-(OOC)- Zevin Daodhri says, "Oh god" -(OOC)- Colo Nell says, "oh no" -(OOC)- Phia Rajan says, "I'm very tense."
[ Amallia Madine (Mollie) | 21:10:15 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Mollie is padding towards the crate full of Loth Kittens that come tumbling out when Trip begins to speak. "Oh, come off it," she starts to say in an attempt to interrupt poor Trip, but it's to no avail. He continues through his summary and indictment of the adorable felines mewling and helplessly stomping about, still too young for proper coordination. When the Kushiban draws his blade beside Mollie, the woman makes an audible 'ack!' sound and tries to lean away. Trip is, of course, on her shoulder. When she leans away, he's actually likely to slip a little closer towards her neck.
"Easy!" she says, and reaches the hand of the shoulder he's perched on to stay his little blade. "Nobody's makin' a coat out of 'em," she insists, and turns away to let the others scoop up the stumbling kitty cats while keeping Trip safely out of harm's way on her shoulder. She's moving towards the datacard she'd set on the table and examining it. "Hmmm, a contact card," she says out loud, and slips it into the holoprojector seated just behind the table. The universally known but indescribable in the english language sound of a holoprojector dialing fills the air and, eventually, it broadcasts a the image of a Dug with spectacles atop the table.
"Woordcha's Fur Coat Emporium, how can I be of servi--," he begins to say, and then drops his glasses to squint at the projection being relayed to him.
"Ahhh, I see you've discovered our latest shipment of raw materials," he says, and clasps his hands together. "Is there... anything I can help you with?" he asks.
"Ahh, kark," Mollie says and immediately reaches her hands up to rub her eyes.
[ Zevin Daodhri (Zev) | 21:19:28 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- <"First of all, yer suppliers need better packin' materials. One escaped, set off alarms."> Zevin is rubbing the kitten's belly with gloved thumbs. He's got it cupped in his hands now, so it won't be leaning against the cold metal of his chest-plate. <"Second, how /dare/ you! These 're helpless little critters who can feel and, in a cer-tain limited fashion, think. We don't even want your money if you're process 'em and wear 'em. I mean, look at 'im."> He extends his hand towards the screen, but also towards the others of the crew and Trip (from beyond knifing distance without a solid throw). Its eyes are big, its ears are oversized for his its head, and it's beginning to look comfortable on its back.
"Mew!" the Loth cat adds in a very high-pitched voice. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
[ Trip (Tri) | 21:22:35 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"Says you," Declares Trip, incredulously insubordinate in the moment. His hatred of the creatures was likely well founded as he turns a glare to the appendage used to stay his blade and halt his pursuit of justice. Trip's snout indignantly lifts, whiskers waddling up and down before he decides to find a new perch. He twists his 'sword' to release it from the giant's (Mollie's) grasp and slides it back home with a practiced retreat. Upon vacating the Captain's shoulder, he lands upon the surface of the table where Madine finds the holo-card she had deposited earlier upon the table's surface.
Normally wholesome and kind, Trip displays a different side of himself, but for good reason. A goodly number of his siblings were killed by these things, among other predators giants just loved to domesticate. Justice and vengeance are all words which echo in his mind, yet decorum stays his hand from exacting it. He honors his host's declaration that nothing was to die, yet there was nothing that said he had to like it.
When bid to look upon one of the foul things, Trip glares up at it with a palpable hate, his tail flicking from side to side in an irritated fashion and expression. His fur has changed from black to a fiery orange, and his eyes have narrowed a bit. Cute paws and arms cross over his chest and he deadpan stares toward Zevin with an expression that reads, 'Really?'
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- [ Phia Rajan (Phia) | 21:23:25 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Phia may not be drunk enough to try and cuddle Trip, but she is currently drunk enough that she's fallen to a kneeling position and has allowed kittens to subsume her. They have climbed on her and she's even taken one into her arms and is rubbing her face against its little face, making cooing noises. "Oh! Little baby, you're so sweet." She informs the cat who mews at her in response---Phia squeals in delight, truly pleased to be regarded by the little kitten even if its mouth is alarmingly wide and full of teeth.
The woman does look up when the man speaks, and there's a look of focus that flickers across her features---thoughts are struggling through drunkeness but she does manage a comment. "This doesn't seem like a good business model. Like, are you even going to get a full coat out of this materal? Maybe a cropped coat." She comments, unceremoniously falling back onto her back so that the kittens can climb her. One particularly friendly female with a black spot on her little nose mews and digs her claws into Phia's chest. "Ouch! You little needleblossom." She bops the kitten, who gives her baby eyes, and is immediately forgiven. "This is Needleblossom. She lives here now, but..." Phia blinks drunkenly at the other kittens. "I think your family is going to be turned into hats. So, sorry about that." She tells the kitten.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- [ Amallia Madine (Mollie) | 21:23:42 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The dug on the other end of the projection's eyes widen when Zevin accuses his suppliers. He makes an indignant 'huhnf!' sound and opens his mouth to speak, but his jaw tightens together when Zevin interrupts the words that wanted to spill from his mouth. When Zevin finally lets him have a word in, he slams one of his hands into the desk that he's sitting on. It's enough that his signal briefly distorts into a flurry of blue lights that re-focuses while he can be heard yelling on the other end.
"How dare I? How dare -you-! Our business is a legitimate one. Loth cat fur is supremely soft and valuable and while, sure, this -particular- coat pattern breed is a rarity, these creatures are a scourge of the galaxy," he says, and then gestures towards Trip, his image distorting with how rapidly he moves. "You see? Vermin," he says. The conflict between Trip and Zevin seems to be enough to calm him down. He folds his hands together and lets out a sigh.
[+NPC] You have renamed an NPC to Needleblossom.
[ Amallia Madine (Mollie) | 21:33:18 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The Dug continues to listen in on the conversation. While he seemed to, for the moment, be placated by Trip's hostility towards the creatures, he's beginning to see that the rest of the crew are some of the galaxy's worst type of people: animal lovers. Animal lovers who question his business model.
"There are several tons of these creatures hidden amongst your cargo. In all, the amount you're delivering will make us, mmmh," he says, and begins to read. "Twenty two coats," he says.
Trip's departure from Mollie's shoulder sees her square her body between the kushiban and the pile of ABSOLUTELY HELPLESS LITTLE KITTENS STUMBLING OVER THEMSELVES TRYING TO WALK????
"You're right, -says me-," Mollie says, crossing her arms over her chest. She's not very intimidating, but she does seem to be In Charge (TM). And she did offer to give the man a ride. "Put the knife down. No kitten is getting maime--," she starts, and then turns her head to look ver to Phia. "No kitten is gettin' turned to -hats- on my watch," she says.
"And you," she says, turning towards the projection.
"Why do you need 'em alive? Surely this is just some form of... cruelty?" she asks.
"The fur is better fresh. Besides, some of our clients prefer to watch the materials be harvested," he says, matter of fact.
"Alright, that's enough, you ugly toad. You're not gettin' these cats, or any other cats. We're going to erase your little operation from the galaxy and turn that ruddy, unmoisturized pelt of yours into a proper lamp shade," she says. Beep.
"I need options," she says.
Trip puts his Combat Knife - 14216 away.
[ Zevin Daodhri (Zev) | 21:40:04 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The kitten in Zevin's hand is small enough that he's able to grip it firmly between two fingers while he takes off his helmet. He sets the cat in it gently. "'m thinkin' an infiltration. Get off outside, eliminate security /quiet/, then take 'em and box 'em. Use their crates fer the cats we liberate, deliver 'em to some rescue group."
"A group that-" He inclines his head towards Trip. Without the helmet he's got black hail with wide silver streaks, and the beginnings of a beard with silver specks. "-ensures they only go to worlds where there ain't Kushiban."
"Easy peasy." He /might/ have casually missed the point. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
[ Zevin Daodhri (Zev) | 21:41:13 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The kitten in Zevin's hand is small enough that he's able to grip it firmly between two fingers while he takes off his helmet. He sets the cat in it gently. "'m thinkin' an infiltration. Get off outside, eliminate security /quiet/, then take 'em and box 'em. Use their crates fer the cats we liberate, deliver 'em to some rescue group."
"A group that-" He inclines his head towards Trip. Without the helmet he's got black hail with wide silver streaks, and the beginnings of a beard with silver specks. "-ensures they only go to worlds where there ain't Kushiban."
"Easy peasy." He /might/ have casually missed the point, and the fact that this is /not/ a group of Mandalorians, warriors, or mercenaries of any stripe. Except him and, ironically, Trip. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
[ Amallia Madine (Mollie) | 21:46:20 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Mollie folds her arms across her chest and exhales. Why are you such a loud mouth, Madine? Her eyes open and she turns to look at Zevin as he explains his options. Infiltration. Cloak and dagger skullduggery. Mollie nods. "It could work. We get in, quiet like, steal the kittens, scuttle their operation. I hated his face," she says, as if that's her chief motivation for the flashmob activism, "Would like to wipe the ugly smile off of it. Could use a new lamp shade."
Needleblossom is doing her best work at diplomacy by hopping up onto the far end of the coffee table that Trip is standing on. Instead of assuming any sort of predatory position, she flops onto her side and rolls back and forth. A few little mewls and chirps, with big eyes eventually widening towards the Kushiban. It's a little like those videos you see on the Holo with the Loth cats befriending a womprat. Cruelty is learned, you see.
[ Trip (Tri) | 21:49:51 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Trip's blade has been safely deposited back home, the ringlet fed through the leather baldric intended to hold his sword. Trip glances up at Mollie but offers little else in the fashion of insubordination. She was the Captain of the ship, after all, and he was complicit with her command.
When options are asked for, Trip's ears lift slightly, indicative that he's reinvesting into the conversation. Zevin's contribution of infiltration earns an exasperated huff. He gestures in his true genteel fashion afterward with a plausible solution, "Oooor, we could deliver them to their intended destination?" Shrug, smirk. Trip angles a look back at the Mandalorian, but it's not vindictive. The half-Echani did try to appeal to his better nature. "Though, the infiltration idea has the merit of a daring adventure."
Trip turns when Needleblossom finds his perch, and instinctively he looks for some where else to be. His ears fall back down as a defeated expression forms and no options avail themselves.
[ Phia Rajan (Phia) | 21:51:16 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"My mother used to do things like that. Like personally select which animal she wanted to eat for the night. Worst sort of person, really. Have you ever had to look an infant bovine in the face while your mother yells at you to hurry up so that someone can cook it? Traumatizing." Phia concludes, lifting Needleblossom into her arms and cradling the little kitten like a child. "You're a baby, and I'm your mommy." She tells the kitten, and then laughs drunkenly when it boops her nose with its little baby paw.
"We should just find a city and set them free. Let them run wild. Find their own destinies." She says, although the implication seems to be that Needleblossom will not be included in the tidal wave of cats that they are discussing releasing on a helpless populace. "You gotta be careful though because they could become an invasive species really easily, I think." There's a pause. "He had a bad face. Like girl, invest in some pore strips."
[ Amallia Madine (Mollie) | 21:58:45 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Mollie turns to look at Needleblossom on the coffee table. A quick flick of attention is given to Trip and his suggestion and she laughs. She scoops that kitten off of the table, though, and gently sets her back within Phia's grasp. She is, after all, the baby. And Phia is, after all, her mommy. "Pore strips and sandpaper. Face was a graveyard of dead skin," she laments the Dug's improper skin care.
She takes a step towards Trip once more and sort of drops her nearest knee. Her shoulder is lowered, offering the Kushiban his previous perch back, should he take it. She holds the position while she speaks.
"It -does- have the merit of a daring adventure," she says and stands up straight, either with a Trip on her shoulder or without a Trip on her shoulder.
"I need to think," she says, and steps back away from the sounds of mewling loth kittens and happy cooing. She rubs her eyes again and sighs.
"Taking them there is out of the question. They are -definitely- shooting us the second they see us," she says, hand idly reaching up to scritch the back of Trip's head but, like, only if he's there.
"Phia, I need you to figure out what they eat and how we can keep them safe and happy. I'm going to look at a place... anywhere... that will take them. Give them good homes. Keep them safe and away from other furry friends. Zevin, I need you to take this," she says, and tosses the data-card she'd run to call him. "To Sela Modonric on Nar Shaddaa. She can run a tracer and get you details. Schematics, hopefully. And Trip," she says, either turning to look at him on her shoulder or wherever he's found a new perch at.
"How's it sound? 'Trip, Savior of Loth Kittens'? Could be a daring adventure," she says.
[ Zevin Daodhri (Zev) | 22:09:06 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Zevin catches the datacard and slides it into a pouch. "Sure. I'll ask around, see if anyone knows somethin' useful about the company. Everywhere hires security somewhere. They might think they're too classy for Nar Shaddaa folk, but-" He raises one finger. "If the bean counters 're in charge, they mighta just gone for the cheapest." 'Cheapest' has Nar Shaddaa written all over it.
"Thanks," he tells Trip, "for not forcin' the issue. You got a look 'at says it's personal, an' I know the feelin'. I respect it." Back at the table, the tuxedo kitten has rolled his helmet over and is sniffing at the vegetable platter. "'ey now, 'at's not for you, little feller. He scoops him back up with the helmet and picks up another few cakes, popping them into his mouth. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- [ Zevin Daodhri (Zev) | 22:09:56 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Zevin catches the datacard and slides it into a pouch. "Sure. I'll ask around, too, see if anyone knows somethin' useful about the company. Everywhere hires security somewhere. They might think they're too classy for Nar Shaddaa folk, but-" He raises one finger. "If the bean counters 're in charge, they mighta just gone for the cheapest." 'Cheapest' has Nar Shaddaa written all over it.
"Thanks," he tells Trip, "for not forcin' the issue. You got a look 'at says it's personal, an' I know the feelin'. I respect it." Back at the table, the tuxedo kitten has rolled his helmet over and is sniffing at the vegetable platter. "'ey now, 'at's not for you, little feller." He scoops him back up with the helmet and picks up another few cakes, popping them into his mouth. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
[ Trip (Tri) | 22:14:06 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Trip's fur begins to return to its neutral white, and by the time Mollie presents her knee, Trip has abandoned his irrational and emotional anger to return to reason and idle quiet. He accepts her compromise and climbs up, using his paw to hook into the waistband of her trousers for leverage. The effort is minimal, and he returns to his perch, his tail comfortably curling/hanging around the woman's neck.
When Mollie rubs at the back of his head, his right foot involuntarily responds, bouncing slightly up and down. When asked what he thinks of the new title, he shrugs. "I reason it is difficult to betray the dead; they /are/ dead. Helping creatures find a caring home makes sleeping at night a little easier."
Zevin's comment and gratitude are met with a solemn nod. A wordless understanding between two warriors. Trip seemed to favor Zevin with a bit more respect, judging from the look that tracks the Mando's movements from then on.
[ Phia Rajan (Phia) | 22:19:23 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
While Zevin is being a responsible pet person, Phia is actively feeding fried veggies to Needleblossom. It comes from a place of doting, but it is happening nonetheless. The other cats gather round, and since she's been tasked with feeding them, Phia seems to take this as an opportunity to see how many veggies she can hide inside of these loth cats. By feeding them, but still. It brings new meaning to the phrase 'hiding your vegetables'. "Pretty sure they just eat meat, but we'll see." Yeah, they aren't /real/ interested in the veggies once they get past the crunchy bit, which apparently smells enough like fat from the oil to confuse them. It's kind of funny to watch though.
"Okay, but just so I'm clear, we're mad about murdering these cats, which, on board, but then our response to that is to murder a bunch of sentients." She says, letting it lie there. Because maybe that needs to sink in---she's not mad, she's just asking, but she's right and she should say it.
"Wouldn't it be better to just burn their building down in the middle of the night? I mean, we could even pull a fire alarm so no one dies." Is that not the line they're drawing? It seems like they've drawn a different line, but the line they're /describing/ is 'don't kill things'.
[ Azeezel Raj (raj) | 22:20:37 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"What...is all this noise...?"
From one of the dark quarters emerges a Zeltron covered in glitter. A lot of glitter. Like the amount of glitter that suggests either his dancer had a lot on, or she helped put some on him. Or, or - there is likely more than one. His skin is bright red, vibrant, harming any calm to speak of because the Zeltron is pleased. His hair sparkles. In one hand is a sleek, bronzium-plated Mandolin with a Mandalorian Helmet sticker on it. He does not walk straight - the other hand holding his face, where Tetan Glasses glow topaz. "..Do you all have any idea how much Spice I have had in a seventy-two hour per--"
Then those black eyes spot a kitten, glow Amber, and the red man's whole demeanor shifts. Wandering up behind Phia to offer a finger to the little beast and despite his UTTER GARBAGE skills with animals? Azeezel is gifted with copious amounts of...charisma.
[ Amallia Madine (Mollie) | 22:24:42 ]=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
"Good," Mollie says to Zevin, "Sela's an ace. Can probably write us a jammer as well as something to scramble their security." She sighs, a glance given to Needleblossom as the kitten chirps and bats harmlessly at Phia's fingers. "Thank you, Phia. I feel like," Mollie starts, and then shakes her head. "You know what? Never mind," she says. "No one's murderin' anyone. 'cept maybe that Dug. Didn't like his tone. Or face," she muses. She watches Azeezel approach and find one of the kittens who has already taken a sweet little shining to him. The little catman purrs and licks at Azeezel's zeltrony fingers, which makes Mollie smile.
"Sweet little things," she murmurs, making a point to do so sideways to Trip. Mollie is encouraged by the involuntary thump of that right foot as she scritches. "D'you know what else makes sleeping at night a little easier? Alcohol," Mollie says, and plucks an unopened bottle of bubbly off the table along with two empty glasses. "We've still got some time before our hyper jump ends. Could use some company while I wait," she says. It's either dumb luck or intuition that leads Mollie Madine out of the interior of the Heliost and into the Loth-Kittenless cockpit.
"Does your fur change color when you're angry? Could've sworn you went black as space when you were wavin' that knife all about. Thought you might kill little Needleblossom. Would've had me a haunted ship. Spools of yarn rollin' down the stairs while we slept," she babbles, voice slowly fading as the two of them disappear into the cockpit.