Lee, Scene One: The Imprintenating

[rassafraggin]

Lunchtime rush. Aroma packs the building, heavy spices and peppers breezing in from the kitchen. Tables fill up, bussers rush between them delivering and releaving plates. At the far corner of the lunch bar, Balt hunches over his stew. He takes two antacids from his pocket, breaks them in the heel of his hand, then sprinkles them into his food. With his spoon he stirs them in. He tries a bite and makes a face, but keeps eating. He stops occasionally and takes swallows from his coffee.

There is a rather distinct thud as boot meets door, light noise from the streets enter with the aid of Gabe as he makes his entrance. Making way to the weapon check in a vastly familiar way, Gabe props one open, taking a handgun from his back beneath the leather jacket he wears, only to toss it into one of the many revolving boxes. His business there done he lets the lid fall, stealing away a key from the side of the box before he gives it a push, causing it to spin into an entirely different place in noting his number. With a nod to the regular bouncer he walks his way past, taking a look around in working toward the bar with intent to drink, despite the time.

Baltimore spots Gabriel and offers a wave. "Looks like we keep a short leash, mate. Must not be on the job today, though you're dressed for it." He nods over to the weapon's locker.

Gabriel waves back to Balt with his own trademark grin before he calls out to the bartender in approaching it. "Saint Albans" is all he needs say in holding up two fingers before finally finding a suitable seat at the counter. To Balt he turns once again, offering a tilt of his head before replying rhetorically, "No problem in bein' ready now, is there?" In his seat Gabe relaxes, casually awaiting his drinks.

The door to the Retreat settles and rests several moments before grunting open again, gently this time as the weight of the next entrant leans into it. The fellow enters a tad too slowly, unconsciously broadcasting his unfamiliarity with the club. After a quick survey of the different services offered by the establishment, and a more laborious scan of the patronage, Lee wanders away from the safety of the exit, and threads his way towards the bar.

"Believe that's the slogan on Blue Sun adult diapers. Still, folk got a sense about the off colors. Folk wandering 'bout with crossed bandoliers and nunchuks," he notices Lee wander in, "or with soft, girlish hair and smelling like rose hips." He picks up his coffee and turns a bit on his stool toward the door. "Mate over there like as not knows my meaning."

Gabriel neither ignores, nor makes an effort to watch the door as it had opened, a possibly nervous entrant ammussed Gabe, but not for long before returning to his conversation. Beside him, accross the counter the bartender pours a bottle of distilled whiskey into two small glasses three quarters of the way before pushing them forward and leaving them be. Gabe offers a light chuckle to his statment, not bothering to turn to the man having entered once more. Reaching for the first of his drinks and bringing it to his lips for a short while. "You got an eye on you" Gabe comments to Balt in chuckling once more, his drink never leaving his lips for long.

Lee arrives at the counter largely unruffled, having noted Baltimore's glance but unable to catch most of his words over the lunchtime din, try as he might. The itching feeling that there's a joke on the table that he's not been let in on, brings his guard up enough to stare at the older gent questioningly, while poised in the act of stowing his two bits of luggage against the kick boards of the bar counter. "Alright if I take this seat?" he wonders aloud, one brow arching. He shifts his glance to Gabriel, pauses, then looks back at Baltimore.

Baltimore raises one eyebrow at Gabe. "Last check got me one for looking," he raises the other, "one I save just for winking. Accessorizes my strong silent type demeanor." He points a finger from his coffee cup hand at Gabe's drink. "Bless ya. Whiskey turns me ornery. Turns my guts tip over teakettle too." He waves over to Lee as he approaches. "Folk already schoolgirling over you, smoking cigarettes and whispering over toilet tanks, may as well pull up a stool." As the luggage comes to a rest Balt points at it with the tip of his nose. "Misses kick you out, or you all pink and nubile off the boats?"

Gabriel brings his first cup down to half before once again turning his attention to the reality of drinking through lunchtime as he catches a few glances from the room, likely a cause of his own entrance. He keeps his quiet as Balt talks, chuckling his way through bits of it before turning to the newcomer for a second time. After giving him a once over he grants him little more then a nod in greeting, letting the man get settled in before putting his own back into the conversation.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Lee to sort out the imagery presented by Balt, but he presently dredges up some attitude and responds with, "Just landed, right. But I ain't as green as you're suggestin'. Just a tiny on the thirsty side, so don't get teary if I pay more attention to the barman than you at first, right?" He ends it with a small grin, and pulls his seat closer to the counter, leaning in to make his order at the next opportunity.

"Don't mean to highhat you none, Mate," Balt pats a finger across Lee's shoulder. "Just you oddballin' yourself what with the suitcases and such. Still, I'll spare you. Let you order yourself a drink." He goes back for a moment to his stew, taking in a big spoonful before turning back to Lee. He talks with his mouth full: "make sure Gabe don't jaw your ear off. Might be playing the mute now, but sure he got it in him to politic about and kiss babies. Never seen it, of course, but a thing like that just shine's through." He pauses again for another spoonful. "Name's Baltimore," he offers into his meal. "Folk call me Balt. The wife calls me Baltimore. Up to you to figure yourself on the spectrum of those two."

Gabriel looks over at Lee through the corner of his eye with a chuckle as the man patiently awaits the barman. With a whistle and wave of his hand Gabe resummons the bartender in a rather swift manner, and points over to the man at his side. Thanks be to the gods for most having a sober lunch hour. In the meantime he downs the last of his drink rather swifter then intended, though he forces himself not to cough as the noisy earbud on him begins to speak loudly, but mainly not understandable for those on the other side of it. He frowns for a moment as he stares at his second drink, before pushing the distilled irish whiskey in front of the newcomer before nodding to him. As he rises from his seat he waves to Balt, "Sorry Balt, seems I'm on call." And without a second more he heads to the weapon check, gets his gun, and hits the door before heading out once more to the street.

Lee pauses for all of three seconds before settling back in his seat and pulling the whiskey closer with a appreciative smile for Gabriel. "Well thanks. That Baltimore guy said you had winnin' ways - an' guess he weren't kiddin'." One last nod, and he turns back towards Balt with eyebrows lowering thoughtfully. "So your missus likes all of you, while the other's just 'ppreciate you 'bout half-way?" he jests. "Balt, it is. Maybe I'll add another letter or two when I get a better sense of you." He lifts the drink for a cursory sniff, not really so bold as he talks apparently, and says, "Lee," before trickling a few sips' worth down his throat. He then lets out a few reluctant coughs.

He watches as Gabriel leaves. "Seven words and one conjunction. New record." He turns back to Lee. "Your mother happy with you when she hollered your full name? Though maybe yours ain't so much a problem-Lee being short for Lee and all." He swigs a bit more of his coffee and makes a face. "Cold," he says to no one, and swallows another gulp. "Question is, why'd you and a set of suit cases shuttle into Persephone? Port like this, seems good only for jawing and working."

Lee eyes the yellowy depths of his free drink a moment before deciding he's too dehydrated to care. Down the hatch it goes, and after taking another few moments to compose himself, the young man rasps, "Turns out the boat I sailed in on didn't much fancy me for a passenger. Which's fine, since I was getting tired of hiding in the stockroom with nothin' but powdered protein to dine on." He pauses, thinking about how that sounds out loud, and adds on a bit more, "Captain went spacenuts, I mean. That's why I hid. That's why I got out at th'first stop. Here."

Balt nods as lee talks. When the bartender passes he motions to his coffee cup for a warm-up. He swallows some before he speaks. "Black sometimes cranks out a man's ringer, wears his gears down. Buddy back in the service revolvered off a finger rather than crew up on another boat." Balt frowns. "Still, brings to question a few things. Meaning why's a young man like you passengering off 'cross the verse anyhow and how you plan to get there now?" He sets his cup down. "Works about for them that wants it, and not all of it involves trigger blisters. Especially for those maybe disappearing from something. If it fancies you, I could put a word in with folks. If that's what you're looking for."

"Appreciate the help," Lee says, startled a bit by the offer. He muses cautiously, "Was just thinkin' to myself that I'd leave off flyin' for a spell and spend some quality time with the soil again. Been out tourin' the black for years now, oh, gettin' on about six years, I figure. Triple that in number of ships I've passengered on." He stops abruptly, and reaches out to snag the passing barman for a plain water, then gazes levelly at Baltimore. "You some kind of... hmm... Big Fish here?"

Baltimore turns back to his stew. He finishes the last few spoonfulls as he talks. "No big fish, more like an eel. Maybe a lamprey. Still, Lamprey attaches himself to a big fish, and big fish swim in school, if you follow. Plus I spend a few days a week right here," with a finger he sweeps the bar, watching them that slides by. Round these parts pays to have a neck made of rubber and a flapping jaw." When he finishes, he slides his bowl forward and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. "Leaves to question, disregarding whether or not you're on the dodge, what it is exactly that you do other than saving the messhalls of the world from protein powder and tap water."

Accepting the little jab with a small laugh from his throat, Lee looks his acquaintance over with a reassessing squint. "Well. I can cook a fair meal whenever I can get my hands on more than just the dry mix, any rate. I can find my way through a data system without trashing anything important. But mostly I... y'know... perform." He nudges his boot gently into the propped instrument case. "So y'can probably see why I don't stick around on a ship as crew. Can't pilot or fix worth a damn."

Baltimore says, "Question still remains if a ship ain't found a use for you why you spend your time playing mariachi to an audience of a dozen. Might be your better suited for work with your feet planted in the sod." Balt finishes his coffee then drops a few credits next to his plate. "Tell you what. Law firms been signing my pay checks. Law game requires a different sort of contractor-not everything's hooting while shooting pistols in the air. Plenty of folk with white on their collars, and plenty of folk with chatting on their resumes." You get tired of trucking luggage behind you, you can wave Wilson (the big fish in this situation) for a job." He stands up from his stool. "I conversationed ya. You can tell him that." Balt straightens his coat. "Money to be made here, for thems looking. Happy to help you find it, if you like. Happen to know Wilson's looking for men and there's happenings with happenings-related bonuses within the next forty eight. Could be a start for a man without a storage locker."

Lee absorbs the advice solemnly, after shrugging off the 'question still remains'. Questions always remain, don't they? "Think I'll get on that, Balt. I just metcha, but I got a feelin' you're steerin' me in a good direction." He raises his glass in a brief toast, stating an easy farewell for now.