Difference between revisions of "Suitable Digs"

Latest revision as of 19:35, 17 August 2013

Ken Pennebaker is currently shoving a hoversled with a few crates on it toward the main office, while a white-furred goat with brown scruff crouches on the deck, chewing as it quietly regards the human through black eyes.

James Sterling ducks into the Starcross office. He takes a look around the place, noticing the goat with mild surprise. "Hey, there," he calls toward Pennebaker, mostly due to the fact he knows he doesn't remember the man's name properly.

Ken Pennebaker stops the progress of his hoversled and turns toward the new arrival. He brushes his palms together, nods toward Sterling and says, "Afternoon." The goat swivels its snout to look at Sterling and says, "Hope you brought me a snack."

Sterling smiles at Pennebaker. "G'day," he adds, automatically. "Good t'see you back 'ere... news was you mighta been in some strife." He glances down at the goat. "Eh, y'weren't kiddin' about th'talkin' goat, I see."

The documentarian grunts. "Never quite connected with the Opodian. Guess that was a lucky break." He looks over at the goat and says, "Otis, this is..." He tilts his head, pondering, then returns his attention to Sterling. "I never did get your information, did I?"

"The luckiest, from what I've heard." Sterling shakes his head to Pennebaker's question. "I tried sendin' y'somethin' but it must not've made it to ya." He takes his PDA out of his inner jacket pocket. "I c'n jus' transfer th'file to ya now, though."

"So, uh, no snack?" the goat grumbles. But Pennebaker nods, gesturing toward the office. "My PDA is charging in there," the documentarian replies, "but I can review the information in a bit. Doing well, otherwise?"

"Me? Yeh, I'm fine." Sterling glances at the goat, raising an eyebrow. "Er, I reckon not." To Pennbaker, he adds, "Say, you were thinkin' about hirin' REM t'do somethin' for ya before y'left, if I remember right. You still need that job done?"

Ken Pennebaker chuckles at the goat, then says, "Well, the main job was trying to recover Otis and the rest of my belongings from Lord Fagin the Pirate King. That idea didn't get much traction, so I paid the assholes off and got my stuff back more or less intact. But now I need some liquidity. REM might come in handy for that."

Sterling frowns. "Sucks y'hadda pay 'em off," he opines. He and Pennebaker are standing about in the lobby, conversing, while a white goat looks on. "But if y'need REM t'do somethin' for ya still, sure'n Joca'll be interested t'hear all about it." He grins. "An' I'll be interested in hearin' about it, too, 'specially if it involves the application o' justified violence." He cracks his knuckles as if to punctuate the statement.

"Ottis," cries Micky as he clasps his free hand over his heart. He's got a suspicious case in his other hand. It looks like luggage for the musically or criminally inclined. "I'm so glad you made it out alive!"

Ken Pennebaker nods. "Well, violence...I hear that might come in handy on Aukam, although the foes you'd face are mostly botanical in nature." The goat regards Micky with a suspicious munch of the cud and asks: "Did *you* bring a snack?"

Sterling glances to Micky, smirking, then to the case he's carrying. "G'day, Micky," he says. He tilts his head at Pennebaker. "You plannin' on goin' t'Aukam?" he asks incredulously.

"Uh," replies Micky after a long moment. He eventually produces a flask. "You a drinkin' man, Ottis?"

Ken Pennebaker laughs. "Me? I'm no adventurer. I leave that to my interns. No, I'll be coordinating the effort and taking a share of the net proceeds from the job." He nods to Micky, then scowls at Otis, saying, "Glutton. You've been eating all afternoon." The goat, meanwhile, seems to take an interest in the flask before replying: "Doesn't matter. Looks chewy."

Sterling grins. He stows his PDA back in his jacket pocket. "Well, be sure t'talk t'Joca if y'wanna have REM fellas helpin' y'out with that." He chuckles at Pennebaker's comment to Otis. "Watchit, Micky," he says, "he might go ahead an' eat that flask. I hear goats'll eat anything that won't eat back."

Looking slightly mortified, Micky repockets the flask protectively and then tosses some sort of meat jerky produced from another random pocket at Otis. He says, "I was down to pluck ol' Fagin's beard myself, but we had a lot goin' on, I guess. Our people didn't talk to your people."

Ken Pennebaker shrugs. "I talked to some of your people. Or friends of your people. I don't know. Fagin's deadline raised the risk-reward concerns too high. Better for me to spend the credits and cut my losses. Figured I could make money again somehow." He looks toward the now-frowning goat. "Otis isn't so easy to replace."

The goat sniffs at the jerky. Sniff. Sniff. Snort. "Doesn't smell related." He nibbles.

"I better get back t'the barracks," Sterling says. He extends a hand to Pennebaker. "Good t'see y'back safe," he says. "Hope you'll have a bit o'time t'look over what I sent ya, tell me what y'can, yeah?"

Ken Pennebaker shakes the offered hand. "Good to be back. I'll be in touch."

"Avian," shrugs Micky before he attempts to pass the case off to James.

Ken Pennebaker is shaking hands with James Sterling, while Micky appears to be focused on a goat that's chewing jerky.

"Thanks, mate," Sterling says to Pennebaker. "Hm?" After a moment's hesitation he takes the case proffered by Micky. "Ta, Micky," he mutters, turning for the door.

"Purty sure you're stuck here," notes Micky. "But, I guess you gotta try, anyhow. Keep hope alive. Later, Sterling."

With a moment of hesitation just before, Subhan passes through and into the Freight offices soon to be turned studio, violet eyes a bit wide with reservation. In her arms she clutches a paper wrapped bundle, soft and squishy enough looking to safely assume it to be clothing or something similar. She pauses just inside, shuffling sideways a bit as James begins his march towards the door, nervously calling, albeit quietly, "E-Excuse me?" The former noblewoman pulls the package away from her chest, to look at a label attached to it, "Uh... I have a delivery?"

Ken Pennebaker looks toward Subhan, tilting his head and knitting his brow. "Delivery? I wasn't expecting a package." The goat crouched on the floor perks, though, remnants of jerky peppering the brown fringe of its beard: "More snacks?" the animal inquires.

"I can help you update the sign," volunteers Micky as he pulls out his flask. "Quite the artist." He shrugs over at Ottis, "Next time I'll bring my famous fifteen alarm chili."

Subhan appears flustered at this news, and by general appearances seems the sort who may get flustered fairly easily in many situations. She looks at the package again, making worrying noises to herself, "It... it was ordered months ago. This- This is the address I was given." Considering the stark absence of visible technology, she may very well live in a bit of a bubble where the news of this place being procured hasn't reached her yet, "It- It's a custom made suit? I- uh.. I never saw who it was for. They just wanted me to make it from their measurements. It- uh. It was a bit odd."

Ken Pennebaker scratches the side of his face as he ponders the woman with the package. "Updating the sign sounds like a really good idea," he mutters to Micky. The goat wonders aloud: "Would it fit me?" To which Pennebaker scoffs, saying, "What? Ready for *another* nightclub misadventure?" He returns his attention to Subhan and says, "I was told the previous occupant departed months and months ago. Some kind of Consortium super spy who wanted to get access to his very own time travel toys. Maybe he'll show up six months before today and pick up that suit?"

"A goat with fashion sense," muses Micky from the sidelines. He drinks some more while adjusting his tie-dye t-shirt. "Goat after my own heart."

Subhan's brow furrows, "Oh." The package clutched a bit tighter a moment, she remains silent to take a breath and try to ease her nerves, shoulders releasing a smidgen of built up tension, "Well, it was paid for up front, so if any of you would like to try it on, you're free to keep it if it fits. I don't mind making adjustments for free if you like it." She steps forward once, slowly offering her hand forward as if she's still, after all this time, not used to the idea of shaking hands with strangers, "I'm Subhan Lomasa."

Ken Pennebaker shakes the woman's hand. "Ken Pennebaker. Mostly not contagious." He gestures toward the other man and says, "This is Micky. Mostly sober. I think." Finally, he jerks his head toward the goat, who introduces himself with a haughty sniff: "Otis."

"Sure," agrees Micky cheerfully.

"Ah. Master Pennebaker, Master Micky and Master Otis. A pleasure." Subhan intones, a certain degree of nobless remaining with her always, "Despite all the strange things I've encountered here, I do believe this is the first time I have met a talking goat." She takes a moment to unwrap the package, revealing a steel-toned grey suit, with lighter grey pinstripes, a moment taken to look between Micky and Ken, "I do believe it would more immediately fit you, Master Pennebaker. If you would like it."

Ken Pennebaker considers the suit. "I do like the color," he concedes. "Thank you, Miss Lomasa. I'll try it on once I get unpacked." The goat grunts skeptically. Pennebaker shoots a look at Otis, then looks around at the boxes waiting to be unstowed. "The new sign should say 'Pennebaker Studios.' Two n's. In Pennebaker, not Studios."

"Your lucky day," notes Micky as he starts to leave. "Got your friend back and a flash suit." Over his shoulder as he hits the door, he asks, "Hey, you didn't take up that Opodian explorer on his offer. Did'ja? Pennybanker Studios, got it."

Subhan offers a half-curtsey towards Micky in farewell, head inclining slightly and resuming it's normal position as she returns focus to Ken, "If it needs adjustments, i'm currently located on Pyracan." A moment taken to reach into her pocket, she produces a card with a fairly simple, but striking design that gives her address but also indicates in addition to tailoring, that she's an artist and musician. It does have a PDA number on it as well, "I was actually looking into purchasing the now-closed Alternative Clothing Design store and making it my own, so t'would be no trouble to come here if that would be easier."

Ken Pennebaker nods, still considering the suit. "I like the lines." He narrows his eyes, pondering. "I'll get you to take it in some if this diet works out." That gets a laugh from the goat. "Anyway," Pennebaker presses on. "A pleasure meeting you, Miss Lomasa." He tucks the card into his pants pocket. "I will be in touch."

A gentle smile and another half curtsey, "Very well. T'was nice to meet you as well, Master Pennebaker. Until then." With that Subhan turns to depart and carry on whatever other business she'd planned on doing while on Comorro.