SD241709.28 - Joint Duty Log - Sails & t'Riuurren - "Take a Closer Look Mr Sails"

Posted on Wed Sep 27th, 2017 @ 7:17pm by Sails-at-Dawn Mr

1,865 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Test Mission
Location: SB Versailles

=^= Turbolift =^=

The lift was packed, though not for lack of space.

A drunk with long, stringy hair was unconscious on one side of the turbolift; nearly colouring the air with the various odours seeping from every corner of him. Every time he exhaled the crowd flinched, and pressed harder into the opposite side of the lift. A small child started to cry as the drunk passed wind, and his mother held him tight and tried to reassure him, despite her rising gorge.

Sails, fortunately, was not the unconscious drunk in question. He was a little tired after a long day of minor repairs and babysitting, but he wasn't drunk, and he definitely wasn't asleep yet.

Dreams didn't smell this vile.

Eventually, the door opened, and the crowd surged for the exit. Choosing not to wait for his stop, Sails left as well, leaving the drunk behind. Before passing through the door, he thumbed a door control to report the disturbance to Security, and let the doors close behind him. Hopefully Security would find the guy before someone else was stuck in a lift with him, or the poor sap died of alcohol poisoning.

Speaking of which, Sails realised he had absolutely no idea where he was. The fellow lift survivors seemed equally lost, and were generally drifting away in all directions. Picking a corridor at random, the handyman strode off to try and find a map, regretting that his padd was out of battery power.

A minute later, Sails hadn't found a map, but he had found something better.

=^= The Weeping Somnabulist =^=

The Weeping Somnabulist was all white tables, chairs, the bar and every single wall as well. The lights were a brightest shade of white. "Welcome to the Weeping Somnabulist, may I ask who told you about this establishment?" An exotic looking women asked.

"Wow, bright." Sails winced, shading his eyes for a moment as they struggled to adjust. In a world of black space and grey walls, the white was really hard to get used to.

"And nobody told me. I just followed them." he continued, gesturing to a small cluster of swarthy-looking chaps who were already at the bar. Sails had overheard them talking about "hitting the bar" outside, and had simply followed them in.

"Is this a public bar?" Sails asked, suddenly struck by the elite feel to the room. It didn't really come across as a place where groups of random people could simply drop by and snag a pint of something.

"Private, very exclusive. Again may I ask who referred you?" The women asked again.

Getting the hint, the handyman nodded slowly.

"I don't have a referral, and I didn't know this was a private bar. My apologies. I'll go." Sails acceded. Some times he could talk his way into a job during misadventures, but this wasn't striking him as one of those times. With a little bow, he took a step back and prepared to leave.

This was when another exotic beauty walked up. "Ah.....madam t'Riuurren welcome back." The hostess said giving the woman a nod knowing that she didn't say much if anything when she came.

K'ehleyr looked at the man who was trying to enter. She was bored, ".....he's with me." She said silkily giving the man a odd smirk. The hostess just nodded as she permitted both of them.

Surprised by the largesse from the newcomer, Sails decided to roll with it and accept the offer.

"Thank you miss." he said, following her into the blindingly white bar. Between the elite aesthetic, the hostile bouncer lady, and the way he felt like a sore thumb here, this place was starting to feel like a country club; members-only, paupers allowed only on sufferance.

"Ihhai." Eaun a female Vorta said the new head mixologist for the Weeping Somnabulist. K'ehleyr just nodded knowing that her table was getting set-up as they walked towards it Remaining silent until they were seated and their drinks were poured. ".....so tell me why should I allow you to stay." K'ehleyr said enjoying this game.

Pausing for thought, Sails took a draught of the free drink. It was probably best to enjoy a taste now, as he assumed he wouldn't get another chance if his answer proved less than entertaining. He found the beverage sweet, yet potent; like a fruit cocktail laced with absinthe.

"You shouldn't." he declared, "I'm a menial labourer in a club for the elite. You should have me removed before word spreads that you invited a commoner inside. What would your peers think?" he added with a gesture at the room, innocently dropping that last comment like a person might drop a live mouse in front of a rattlesnake.

K'ehleyr crossed her legs and leaned back into the couch nodding for the lights to be dimmed slightly. Turning her attention back to the man giving him a sly smirk for drinking before talking. "Does it look like I care?"

"Yes." Sails replied. Though his initial response had been to test the waters, he was now growing more confident that his "sponsor" enjoyed a little verbal sparring. This gave him a theme, and a good handyman always tried to go with the theme.

"I think you care. I think you care about wanting them to see you a certain way. I think you care so much you invited a blue-collar worker into their favorite bar, just to emphasise how much you *don't* care. Am I wrong?" he asked, taking another sip of his drink.

The emerald green liquid in the tumblr swirled at the bottom as the Kreel's index finger tapped gently on the outside. Her firey red eyes seemed to pierce the man's very soul. K'ehleyr than let out a callous laugh looking at the man. "You put too much faith in psychology. Take another look around the bar a closer look."

Humouring her, Sails looked around the room, and this time he ignored the attire and the attitudes. While they moved like businessmen and wore clothes to match, a number of those in the room had the pink faces of those for whom the dirt was so ingrained only a good pumice-scrubbing could get it all out. Same for their hands, which were all thick and rough; the hallmark of people who did enough manual work to build up muscles and callouses in equal measure.

"You see.....this isn't as exclusive as you might think. You just need to know the right people or have the right skills that some of certain members might require." K'ehleyr said taking another sip of her emerald green liquid.

"Oh, good." Sails replied, deadpan.

From what "Madam t'Riuurren" was saying, this wasn't a safe place to be. The level of danger in the room hadn't really changed, but his perception of it definitely had. At their worst, a businessman would either hire a professional to have you killed, or do something amateurish with a broken bottle or something. Now it seemed several of those "professionals" were in the room with them, so hiring one could be as simple as a gesture by the wrong hand.

He wondered if any of the calloused hands in the room had gotten that way through peaceful means.

"Ok, I give up. Why am I here?" Sails asked, curious.

Raising her left hand her clawed finger wriggled slightly as beautiful exotic ruddy with green undertones. "This umm.....my pet D'vyyh as you can see she is very different than the other pets in here." K'ehleyr said nodding to the men and women that had the callous hands. "Look again look where the people with the callous hands are sitting. Watch how they act with who they are with."

Humouring his sponsor again, and starting to feel a little uncomfortable with all this, Sails took a harder look at the blue-collar workers.

The first thing he noticed was the way many of them appeared to be tethered to the more affluent clientele by an invisible line. The visitors to a table would come and go, and then one specific person would move and the working-classers would be at their side in a flash.

It reminded him a little of his time as a personal assistant, where his employer liked to show off in front of guests by summoning him with a gesture. At the time, his employer had been a shipping magnate he knew personally, and the man had always showed respect. Here though, in some cases, the respect was either one-way or nonexistant. Some of the blue collars were radiating slavish obedience, and some were sweating with fear. Their white-collar counterparts, on the other hand, were either arrogant or openly hostile.

Sails had seen a similar dynamic before, usually between slaves and their owners. It was the point after the shock collars and pain sticks were no longer necessary, when a slave became a slave inside their mind. Psychological chains.

This bar was *really* not a safe place to be.

In the corner of his eye, the handyman noticed that someone was approaching their table directly. He turned his attention away from the room and focused on the newcomer, remembering what t'Riuurren had said about someone (presumably the newcomer) being her pet.

K'ehleyr could smell the fear, anxiety along with several other emotions truth was it smelled worth than body odor. "Why did come to the entrance of the club?" K'ehleyr as she gently stroked the olive green skin of her pet.

There was a slight reaction in D'vyyh's demeanor it was a odd mix of fear and reception. K'ehleyr right hand rested just above the light brown leather loin cloth her fingers ever so lightly tickling slightly below the hem of the loin cloth.

This was the point where Sails had completely left his comfort zone.

"I came here because it was the first bar I came across." he explained candidly, declining to finish the rest of the drink. If it was drugged, which was seeming increasingly likely, he was hoping to avoid the worst of it. Though the sensations were that of intoxication, he couldn't yet tell if a sedative was riding on the tail end of that.

"Do you get many...new recruits...simply showing up at the door to the club?" He asked, attempting to sustain civil conversation despite his personal discomfort.

"No no no....." K'ehleyr said with a chuckle, "with the steep price tag and insane background check most find it not worth it. The ones that do join enjoy the finer things that this universe gives us. Or where you referring to the......ummm......let's go with the word you used pets."

"...I think I'm going to go. Thank you for the drink." Sails replied, leaving the half-finished beverage on the table as he shuffled off his seat and, as politely as possible, made his way towards the exit. Though this was a little rude, he decided it was worth it. He didn't know if everyone here had the freedom to leave whenever they chose, and he didn't want to get mixed up in that.


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K'ehleyr t'Riuurren
Privateer

&&

Sails-at-Dawn
Civilian
Versailles

 

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