They kept walking. They only now reached the administrative areas, passing more elegant and furnished interiors than the previous cold bulkheads.
Chanteloup had to restrain several snorts along the way. Something big, he says. Miss Hookier "working" for him. She found this technique of rhetorical juxtaposition interesting, and thought it was most likely an attempt to destabilise her. Then she reasoned that it was probably just who Vertiga was... Both answers were equally destabilising. That amused her.
"Quite right. As I told miss Hookier, it's not every Curacoan runaway that ends up at the command of a modern warship bristling with state of the art weaponry. Well, for Sirian standards... My interest... That is, Gallic interest in you was always peripheral, monsieur Vertiga. What you call a faux-pas was an interesting opportunity, I think for all parties. Your usefulness was noted, as was your ownership of the aforementioned warship." Chanteloup let a moment pass as they went up a small flight of stairs, a taxing undertaking under her condition. The conference room was mere moments away.
"Gallia has no shortage of enemies, including people with warships. Let's just say you were a peculiar enough fellow with ample means at your disposal and a numerous... Entourage." She chuckled knowingly. "So when part of that entourage came knocking at my door, I seized the chance to ensure that the Vertiga company wasn't an immediate threat to me. She did an admirable job at protecting you... And in so doing, confirmed my initial feeling. Which is why she was let go, and why you're in this station without cuffs on."
They had reached the door, which she opened, and gestured Vertiga inside.
"Come. This won't be long. Coffee's on the table."
(06-14-2019, 12:25 PM)Sombra Hookier Wrote: If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.
