TEST DRIVE #6 - The Bridge and Ten Forward

[ten_fwd_mods]

Option 01. Ten Forward: The first thing you see is a bar. A large, lively bar filled with many different faces and many different smells, sights and sounds. This is Ten Forward, the Enterprise's off-duty lounge; feel free to get acquainted with your fellow travelers and try to find somebody who's in charge: this is your new home now, after all...





Option 02. The Bridge: Well, aren't you a lucky duck? You've found yourself in hallowed quarters. Wherever you were before, you're not there anymore. Now you're in a room that could be some kind of command center or control room; there's a captain's chair flanked by seats for his chief officers, computer panels and stations at each interior wall, and before you a broad viewscreen that shows the wide expanse of space rushing towards you. Have you ever wanted to be a starship captain for a day? Well, here's your chance. Feel free to roam around, but try not to touch anything shiny.


[OOC: The Bridge isn't usually available for in-game posts, so if you've ever wanted to play there, here's your chance!]

Comments

[ikissdhimbck]

She arches her eyebrows, interest piqued.

"S'that right? It's not mine, either."

Which makes her kinda unique around these parts. Her eyes sweep over Booker in kind, as if examining his mettle, and once satisfied she smiles. Slow, and sly.

"The pleasure's all mine, Mr. DeWitt. Let's get you some britches 'fore we see what the Good Lord gave you."

She sees shades of the kind of men she works with back in Texas — and that of the men she fights, all the same. So long as he's not drawing on her, she'll do the courtesy of not drawing on him; besides, it's hard to say what he's hiding under that towel, but it's probably no match for her 7 1/2-inch barreled Colt SAA.

She nods over his shoulder, in the direction of the bar. There are banks of food replicators along one wall, one of which she approaches.

"I'm still gettin' used to these things, but they're easier t'use than some computers I've seen. What's your measurements? 'Bout a thirty-two, thirty-three?"

[just_dewitt]

"Yes. A few times in my home, and then twice more after my death. And revival." Booker chuckled. He had lived an odd life. "And now this one." He grinned at her, a smirk in his eyes. "Makes a man almost feel special." He was joking, but he was definitely not the type to take himself too seriously.

That sly smile brought an answering one to his face, and he grinned wider to her. "I've a feeling it's the sort of thing that has plenty to be spread around." It was entirely possible that Booker was flirting with this woman. Maybe.

Booker followed her glance, then her form, enjoying the view, rather a lot, before focusing on the machine she indicated. "Thirty two, last time I was measured. " Which, mind you, was not that long ago, in Portland, but he had no idea if that held here.

[ikissdhimbck]

She looks over her shoulder a touch sharply, though it's surprise at his earlier words — after my death — that shines through in her eyes. There's something there, something that takes her a million miles away almost wistfully, but after a moment she blinks, and the surprise clears into another wickedly half-cocked smirk.

"If not special, then at least lucky. However, whether it's God-endowed luck or not, we're not gonna find out tonight."

If she doesn't outright wink she at least nearly does, but she's turning back to the replicator before anybody can linger on it too awful long. If he's to flirt with her, she'll flirt right back — but he best watch out. He doesn't know what he's flirting with.

"Computer, can I get a pair of trousers in a thirty-two waist? What-ever style is handy."

There's a brief chirp, and then a high humming noise as the replicator produces the requested item, as if out of thin air. Kate reaches in and unfurls the pants, light and silver but well tailored, and then turns her attention back to Booker.

"Think all of you will fit in these?"

Given the pointedly arched eyebrow, she's probably teasing him some more.


[ooc: on reflection, I don't think the replicators in Ten Forward can make anything else but food and drink, but I'm not sure and I already committed myself so WHOOPS. ^^;]

[just_dewitt]

"Sounds like a plan, ma'am." Booker was smirking as he watched her. And the replicator stole his attention for a moment, reminding him of magic, of other days. Good and bad ones, really. He shook his head. So much had happened. In Way too many worlds to count.

Booker eyed her, and then the pants she held up, but not out to him. "I might. Hand them over, then?"

And yes, he might just be planning on putting them on in front of her, at the moment. His eyes held a mischievous and flirtatious smirk, as did his mouth.

[ikissdhimbck]

Once he snaps himself out of his reverie, he'll see Kate looking back at him with every bit as much curiosity. She quirks an eyebrow, but obediently holds out the trousers for Booker to take hold of.

"Looked like you'd wandered off there for a minute."

Are you trying to imply Kate just isn't all that interesting, Booker? She's hurt, truly.

Then again, she notices that smirk on his face and is sharp enough to guess at what it means. Without losing an inch of that pretty smile of hers, her eyes take on a scolding look.

"Am I gonna need t'find you a privacy screen?"

[just_dewitt]

"I reckon. Replicator seems a lot like magic, and that I've known, a lot." He chuckled, eyeing her as he stepped up to her.

"A privacy screen? Why ever for?" And yes, Kate, the towel dropped, right there, shielded from anyone else's sight in Ten Forward by you, but not shielded from your sight. Oops. But not oops, really.

he turned slightly to pull them up, but not in a hurried fashion. There might just be some teasing going on from his side, too.

[ikissdhimbck]

Well.

Catch her on a bad day and she might have blustered, panicked, or turned away. He's been toe-to-toe with her since he first winked on this ship though, and that is as good as challenging Kate to a duel. So what she does is keep those pretty blue eyes of hers on his, lips slowly tugging into a smirk.

"It's a shame, really."

Her voice is even, and just as sweet as punch.

"Here I was enjoyin' your company, an' now it looks like you'll be hauled off for indecent exposure. If y'like them replicators, you should see a phaser."

The teasing hasn't stopped any, even as her cheeks turn a little pink.

[just_dewitt]

Booker chuckled as he moved to dress and shook his head. "They'd have to catch me, and make me go, first." He cocked his head to the side. "Nudity rules are dumb, and an echo of church controlled times." he shrugged. he had an issue with churches, a little bit, a lot, really, all the time.

He smirked at her, stepping up to her as he slid into the pants. "Would be easier to get into these with your help tucking things away." His smirk was wider as well, and there was heat in his eyes as he invaded her space even more.

[ikissdhimbck]

Those pretty red lips twitch a little bit more, her smile turning from crooked into something a little mischievous. He's certainly interesting, and no mistake. That he thinks he could outrun Security shows his inexperience with the Enterprise; that Kate believes him shows that he's a fella worth knowing.

"An' I suppose polite society an' common decency don't mean a lick to you either?"

Her voice takes on something of a singsong tenor, betraying her chastisement for what it really is. She's a polite woman, well bred, and her belief in propriety runs deep, but it doesn't much matter a lick to her either. Not now, not with the life she leads.

She doesn't back away as he brazenly approaches, and though the pink hasn't left her cheeks she makes a show of arching an eyebrow and glancing down at his manhood once it's securely tucked away.

"I reckon it would."

And no, she isn't moving to help at all.

"You must either be terribly confident in yourself, or a fool. Care to venture a guess why?"

[just_dewitt]

"They mean something to me. But Polite society and what they call common decency would likely not want to hear what they mean to me." Call him a renegade, a rude man, and a barbarian if you will, but Booker DeWitt will shy from no fight, nor from stating his opinions. It won him across a city and rescued a girl once from durance vile, and worse. A girl who turned out to be his daughter.

And he would walk that path forever, no matter the cost.

His eyes met hers, a little compassionate, and he smiled. And when he spoke, an old time southern drawl colored his voice like it belonged there. "Because I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death, dear lady, and I am afraid of no man, woman, nor destiny. Beliefs are sacred, and meant to be defended, held, cherished. If you wont defend your beliefs in the face of others looking down on you? Well, you're not very much of a person, in my opinion."

And he finished getting dressed, stretching his hands, and flame flickering along one hand, lightning rolling along the other, and almost a flicker of water around them both. He stood like a gunslinger, or a cowboy, or a soldier, and his gaze was both admiring and unafraid.

"Care for a drink with a confident fool?"

[ikissdhimbck]

If it's hellfire he's slinging, let it be true. Kate don't care either which way. Either he's an outlaw or a demon, a magician, a rogue, but all have their uses in one way or another. Because Kate hasn't only defended her beliefs, she's worn the blood of her lover on her skin as the town she once called a home murdered him just inches from where she sat; she's held God's fury in her hand and rained down death on the crooked pig of a lawman who let it happen, and if this fella is going to pontificate like some apostle of justice either he's her ticket to hell or they'll go down swinging together.

Her eyes burn like a blue fire, lips quirked in a smirk that's not awful nice, but no less genuine. It's hard to say whether she's going to shoot him or eat him alive.

"Actually, the answer I was lookin' for—"

She presses her lips to his ear, bodies hugging, voice a sanguinous hum.

"—is because I only kiss the men that I kill. So tell me, Sugar; care for a peck?"

[just_dewitt]

Booker's lips curled and his teeth bared, and his smile was as savage as it was joyous at her words, and he looked to her, eyes lidded low with the eye lids, with a look of sheer lust and warmth and excitement, and challenge.

"Kiss me, woman, for some deaths are worth dying, and some prices are worth paying, if the prize is worth the cost. And no prize, I think, was more so, than that kiss you offer." It's plainly said and yet, out of those plain words, also somehow poetic. It is, well, Booker-ish.

[ikissdhimbck]

She laughs, and the sound is like bells on the breeze, gentle and melodic and cascading, nearly a titter if there were anything innocent about it. She places her hands on his chest, fingers sliding up to his collarbone. It's gentle enough to be inviting, but make no mistake, it's firm. If she wants to, she could turn on a dime and shove him away.

"Big words for a woman y'just met ten minutes ago."

She doesn't move back, but she ain't still, either. Her body is lithe and warm against his, powerful for how petite she is. She don't know him from Adam, but she thinks she likes him.

[just_dewitt]

Booker's hands, slowly and easily, moved to her side, hands coming to rest along her hips, and hot, very hot, as he pressed against her, eyes hot themselves.

"Not big words, just true ones. " And he kissed her, because it was right and it was now, and because, well, he was Booker.

[ikissdhimbck]

If his touch is keen, he'll feel the muscle beneath her layers, the way they tighten and sit poised for action when his hands pause near her guns. She ain't no fool. She knows intimacy makes as good a distraction as any if someone wants to, say, steal a weapon and cause a fuss.

She may be little, but she can handle herself in a tussle, and there ain't no God in this universe who'll have his side if he tries to take her Colt.

So the kiss comes at a small surprise, and though she returns it like a woman who knows what she's doing, a small part of her stays with his hands and her gun. She's chuckling when they break, teeth dragging over his bottom lip.

"Honey, you've got a death wish."

She yanks him back in for another, in part to make sure the job is done right, and in part because it's been a long time since anybody's kissed her like that.

[just_dewitt]

Those muscles were noted, and the tensing as well, and his hands moved away from her guns, not wanting to alarm her, but pressing against her more, hard now, even more than he had been. A strong woman, a beautiful one, and an armed one, damn.

He smirked at her, after the kiss, and started to speak, but met her kiss instead with equal passion and pushed against her, hands rising to her shoulders, to let her feel how strong they were, and how much they wanted to hold her.

When the kiss broke, his smirk was still there. "Not a death wish, Miss, but a willingness to take a chance for something worth it."

[ikissdhimbck]

Again she laughs, like a babbling brook.

She has to admit, having him all pressed up against her like that is intoxicating. She can feel that strength in his hands, and in other choice bits of his anatomy. But is she really willing to turn his public indecency charge to a shared one?

"Again, sir, I question your boldness over somebody you've jus' met."

Her tongue curls on the nicety, as if she don't really mean it. He's a scoundrel, she's willing to bet. No gentlemanly genes to be seen.

"On a ship. In space. Where you jus' showed up, stark naked."

If he ain't questioning his own sanity, Kate sure as hell is. Or perhaps he just thinks this is all some dream.

[just_dewitt]

Booker sighed and stepped back, wrinkling his brow at her and smirked. "As you wish, madame. I'm sure you know better than me." And if there was self-mockery in that, well, be sure he meant it. Booker was a man who had come far, but like himself? No, not ever and not close.

"I've shown up in worse, with worse. But I've never pressed my attentions where they were not wanted." And in the next moment, a transformation purely stylized, happened, as he drew himself up. As if a cloak were drawn over him, his stance, stare, and bearing changed, and he swept her a full court bow, to the ground and back up again.

"I'll beg your pardon and then bid you adieu." He turned, with that, and moved off, stride eating ground as if it was a ravenous man. And perhaps, it was.