"Ye keep yer eye on that 'un." nodding towards the stranger, "An' yer hand close ter yer pistol, aye?"
Turning back to X, his sly grin seeps into his beard.
"Well lad, I'll tell ya, " He says, straightening his worn leather vest, "I've been enjoyin' Colonial lodgings, fer a time."
//reference the last post in bio link above signature//
"T'were no bloody vacation, I can tell ye." here, he cricks his neck, bones crackling "An' I got some unfinished business in the Taus 'cause of it."
His grin becomes both melancholy and evil as he daydreams about what is to come.
"But I've finally gotten me albatross ter fly, Ef ye follow me. An' I'm fixin' ter fly on over in 'er and settle some old scores. Dropped in fer a drink to see me old associate," He grins at his bipolar friend. "on the way, ya know...."
The tavern wench delivers a bottle of scotch and three shotglasses. Finn pats her on the hindquarters and shoves her off in the direction of the bar.
"Ya joinin us there, son?" A raised eyebrow indicates Doc Death.
Dr. Death brushed off the dust from his shoulders, and walked towards the pair. He stopped at the bar and scrutinized the bar stool, then shook his head,
"I prefer something more comfortable."
The Doctor slipped on a pair of gloves, and pulled some slimy green ooze from one of his pockets. He placed a drop of the ooze on the bar stool and watched as it disintegrated,
"And now for a more luxurious sit, rather than that formidable stool."
He pulled a tiny box out of the same pocket and placed it where the stool once was. Then Dr. Death pressed a button on the box, and a chair fit for a billionaire emerged,
Tim nods towards the seemingly bottomless pockets of the enigmatic, and quite clearly insane Dr. Deaths.
"Anything in yer pockets that gets rid of LRF pilots and maybe turns Colonials inside out? Slowly? And amplifies pain in the meantime? Should be worth a tiny fortune, that.
He knocks the neck off the bottle of scotch against the table edge in a cloud of glass fragments, then sloppily pours into, over, and around the shotglasses.
"Oh, dinna let me ferget, need one fer the bloody SCRAmblers too."
*fumes*
"Everybody's a bleedin' moralist these days! Gettin' ter be so'z a man can't make a dime on human misery anymore..."
He leans over and gives the commander a knock on the arm.
"Eh, what? Ya oughta know ya miserable human."
"Ok, ok, human-ish...."
Tim knocks back a shot of scotch, slamming the dripping empty glass upside down on the table, a salute to lost compatriots uncounted.
"Ye feelin' allright there lad? Strikes me a' yer engine mounts come loose a bit."
He looks up to see that Kelley and Murphy have this sociopath covered. Kelley nods affirmatively, arching his own eyebrow.
"Ya worry me lad. Tis no' healthy carryin' that kind'o damage around. Lit'rally nor fig'tively."
He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest and kicking a boot up onto the table, splashing scotch.
"An' I think I can exact me own revenge, come ter think 'o it. Yer methods disturb me, laddy. I've no blinkin' Idea where they end. An' I expect ye don't neither."
"Now, 'fore anyone sets ter tossin' flares at hydrogen tanks, how bout tha' drink?"
Tim nudges the two sloshingly overfull glasses of scotch in the direction of his compatriots.
"Hehehe. Don't flatter me. I was merely 'joking.' Which is something i do not do often... So relax. Although.. Anything, and i mean anything, can be achieved through science. And if what i was saying were true, wouldn't i be ruler of Sirius by now? Hehehe. "
Dr. Death chuckled slightly to himself, and stood,
"Mr. Tim, would you mind having your little puppies look elsewhere. I have the feeling they think poorly of me. And that they quite possibly just might think of doing something stupid."
The doctor pulled out a pair of gloves from yet, the same pocket. He shuffled them onto his hands and started waving them around in the air in front of him.
"Aye laddy," Finn replied, "I'll 'ave me boys relax a bit, sure. But ye understand that thier livelyhood depends on me survivin', so theyre not bloody likely ter relax thier guard fully..."
He nods at Kelley, whose hand slides from the butt of his pistol back to his pintglass.
"Aye, an sorry to've disturbed ye, theyre overbearing I know.."
Just then Finnegan's communicator burst to life
*hiss* "...Cap'm, We've a bit of a problem..." *crackle hiss*
Tim sits up straight, and looking to his compatriots says,
"ye'll excuse me wont ya?" and taps his comm button. "Better bloody well be important, lad."
*crackle* ".. Aye cap, 'tis. Got some feller yappin on 'bout the Wake, an 'ow 'es gonna take it from ye, name o' this rat is Kuraine, says 'e 'olds some weight with the gods or some such nonsense. Wants to talk to ye, Cap'm."
"Bloddy 'ell, send down the shuttle, O'Malley. Tell th' rat ter 'old is bloody 'orses." Tim turns to the Doctor, and X, "Lad's, bit of a muck-up in me face 't moment, Need ter fix this an' quick. Sorry to run out on ya, but there's plenty cash at th' bar. 'Elp yerselves."
Tim stands, scotch spilling from the glasses as he bumps the table. He motions with the back of his hand to the bartender as he passes his crewmen, and they stand to follow.
"Keep th' bloody change lad, and see that these two 'r taken care of, aye?"
As the three fade out the door, Finn's voice can be heard, shouted over his shoulder.
"Keep th' faith lads! Profit before scruples, an' if they get in yer way, crush em like bugs! 'Till nex' time...."
A young woman with black hair that stopped just below her under arm and wearing what looked like an armored dress, black as her hair walked into the bar and looked around. Cautiously she examined the room for any possible threats, seeing none, she slung her rifle (which was a customized Plasma rifle made to look like an old fashion weapon) over her shoulder and walked toward a booth in the far back corner of the bar.
A barmaid slowly approached the young woman, holding a metal tray close and up to her face, as if to shield it from possible violence.
"M...Miss? what will you have to drink? We have...uhm...we have quite the sel--"
The young woman sitting in the booth held up a hand clad in an armored glove and looked to the barmaid.
"Just give me whatever the strongest thing you carry is...I don't care, just leave me alone..."
The barmaid nodded quickly and scurried off to fetch the requested drink.
The barmaid bumped into a handsome young man as he strolled over to the armoured lady,
"Sorry sir, won't happen again sir" she said, hastily picking up her tray,
The man helped her to her feet and smiled a charmers smile,
"Sorry gorgeous, I'll take what she's having" he indicated towards his collegue sitting down at the table.
He then turned his elegant red coat and proceeded to sit down by his assosiate. He too was armoured, his chest and legs particuarly, and he boasted a large pair of high calibre pistols strapped to his legs.
"Fancy seein' you here darlin', why the long face?" his face displayed his handsome, warm smile again.
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