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Comments
"Norvell, get your arse over to the bar, and buy a blazin' drink. The rest of you blazebrains can either spend some blazin' jingle, or cook off, and get the fek out of my bar!"
With that, I storm back into my office, grab my knife, a pair of pants, and my shirt, and head back out into the bar, fumin'.
Sasha flinches when you yell, and Norvell and the others gape up at you, then pretty much avert their gaze because, you know, naked guy. Norvell heads for the bar, telling his guys to head off "for a bit". JD serves him a stiff drink, which he doesn't touch.
"Let's get one thing straight here, Norvell — you don't own that drill any more than you own me, or this fekin' bar. You don't come in here, demandin' shite from me, and mine. You got cooked 'cause you've been minin' fekin' Borax, when there's blazin' oil to be had." I take the second shot, and huff a sigh. "How long've we been doin' this, Norvell? When are you gunna stop blamin' me for all the shite that goes wrong with your operation?"
I stare him down, daring him to cause shite. I'll gut the cooker here and now — presuming JD doesn't end him first.
Let's see you Go Aggro here, Esco. Curious how this pans out.
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 1, 1. Total: 4)
Somehow you telegraphed your move, Esco. You reach for your blade, and Norvell's grabbing a spike from his belt, and the guy's fast for an old man. You can see it, in your head, playing it out like some Battlebabe Samurai master might picture the fight as it's happening. You pen an artery and he punches a hold in your shoulder, maybe your chest. You end up fighting each other for time lying on your back in Fleece's clinic.
But that doesn't happen. Norvell saw only you. He zoned in on stabbing you before you cut him deep. He missed the double barrels of metal coming up behind his left ear. He never even felt his brains passing out the right side of his skull. He falls hard, the spike hits the wooden floor a second after his corpse does.
What do you do?
I pause a moment before sheathing the blade, and looking over to JD with gratitude... "I'll get her. Save me a brush."
JD nods and moves the bucket around to start work on cleaning up the mess he made. You head out of Diamond, passing by Sasha, who is gaping at the body that use to be Norvell. When you come to the door, there are a half dozen miners heading your way. They heard the shot, and they're coming to see what the fek happened. What do you do?
"You might wanna go chat with Eats about a payin' job."
Sounds like you're Manipulating these guys with a promise of work. Let's see dice. With a 10+, they'll head out to find him. With a mixed success, they're going to ask for some concrete assurance, or maybe a bribe or barter.
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 4, 4. Total: 10)
They do indeed head out to find Enough-to-Eat. And with that, the Borax mining operation is effectively at a work stoppage. We'll see how that turns out.
Esco, you come up to Fleece's clinic. The lights are on, nobody's outside. What do you do?
"Fleece? You here?"
You see that she has a microscope on her exam table with a number of slides laid out carefully and a small journal where she's taking notes.
I laugh to myself, "just messin' with you. Do you have to wear that thing? Don't get me wrong, it was kinky those times in my room – but now it's just makin' you hard to understand."
My head cocks involuntarily when she mentions Sierra being good with a mop. Is this what she's been doing 'til now? I frown, and shrug it off. "you need a hand with any of that?"
She picks up the wheelbarrow by its handles, then looks around to you, "Partnered with Sierra, hunh?"
As you head down the side shaft together, over the squeak of her wheels, Fleece changes the subject, "Why did you have to bring up those times in your room? Will I never hear the end of my foolishness?"
That bit about our time together puts a smile on my face, though. "Is that what I am to you? A mistake?"
I wet my lips, and shift my toothpick over to the other side of my mouth. "Those were different times, Fleece... We grew up, and we grew apart. That doesn't mean we've gotta hate each other — that we can't look out for each other... We just gotta remember why we stayed here. Eye on the prize, Fleece... Eye on the prize."
She picks up the wheelbarrow and starts pushing again.
You turn around the bend and head up towards Diamond. Hate to tell you, Esco, but that wheelbarrow's going to track in mud and shite inside the Diamond.
She can track mud and shite into the Diamond. Fleece gets that privilege. Few do.
Fleece puts her mask back on and wheels her barrow into Diamond. Rufe is mopping up now, looks like JD put her to work on it. Rufe, to her credit, is working without hesitation, but she is working around the big corpse that's spilling more blood with each minute.
Fleece comes in, taking over, shooing her away and getting to the business of lifting the body up into the wheelbarrow. She uses leverage and training to lift a much bigger person without hurting herself or dropping him.
Marigold comes up to you, Esco, she wants to talk, but away from the others. What do you do?
"What's up?"
Wanda was reapplying makeup. She laughs when you kick her out, she's not bothered by trifles like that, but she doesn't want to hang out in the bar with the cleanup, so she heads off down the hall.
"Out with it Marigold," I say softly, with only a hint of impatience. "What's up?"
Then she reads the irritation in them and gets on with it, "What does it take to, ah... leave?""
Does she?
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 1, 2. Total: 4)
OOC: Asking my one question while preparing for the worst: What does Marigold intend to do?
Two knocks at the door, then it opens. It's Sasha. Marigold stands up straight, startled.
My eyes narrow, and I hold up a finger. "I wanna continue this conversation — but now ain't the time. If you stay put as a favor to me, until we can talk, I'll consider whatever you owe us paid in full. Deal?" It can't be that much anyway...
I look ot Sash, not any happier about this than she is. "Round up the girls, and have them go back to their rooms... We gotta get our new security boys seated at the tables, looking imposing... Is Sierra still here?"
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 3. Total: 7)
Seems the only person here who knows who sent Pixel to Sierra would be Pixel. I march past Sash for the stairs... Time to find our little Pixel.