tampered | Log: Ongoing

Log: Ongoing

When; September 18th ( just after midnight)
Rating; PG ( for language )
Characters;

captain_hector Hector Barbossa
Summary; Scarab meets Hector for a drink now that all fluids are back to normal.
Log;

What a day...

It had started off badly as well.
Scarab's usual morning ritual was to stumble out of bed and immeadiately put the kettle on and start some tea. Then she would hop into ths shower and wake up the rest of the way.
The kettle would usually wake Frederick ( unless he had, *ahem*, 'overindulged' the night before) and he would take it off the burner, and pour out the hot water into the pot.
This morning, however, she had started the kettle, and not five minutes later the stench of boiling blood had nearly made her gag.

It wasn't just the tap water either. Sadly every liquid within the icebox had turned to blood as well.

Her shower was right out of the question after that, and the rest of the day she had been in a foul mood.

Thankfully midnight had tolled, and easily within the hour she was drafting company to head out to her new favorite pub ( fortunately it was also right down the street from another of her friends' apartement's; Alex and John's to be exact) and so she knew the way by heart.

Now she stood outside enjoying one of Frederick's old fashioned hand-rolled cigarettes and waiting for her newest aquaintence.
He seemed like an alright guy. A little old-fashioned, but that was probably just due to the fact she was born nearly 200 years after he died.
Someone said he was a pirate?
Well, that should mean he had some interesting stories, and to her that was good enough just now.

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He'd gone a day without drink without so much as losing a breath over it; worse had been placed upon his table before. Hector could likely be considered a twisted man, and even found a morbid humor in the day's curse. He'd laughed, remembered his lessons of the bible as a child.

No sooner had the curse passed when he was invited for a drink. He felt almost unusual whilst walking towards the designated meeting place; drinking with company, when he was almost sure that the conversation wouldn't involve business, was something nearly ancient for him. He could remember drinking with chums back in England, sharing dinner and wine with a young lady here and there, but those things were almost dream-like in their quality.

At the door, the lights, electric and neon, illuminated the figure of a young woman. To him, to the time from which he came, she was something of a sight to see. Dark-haired and exotic, she was a daughter of the Far East, the one who had invited him on this little excursion. "Scarab." He acknowlaged her as his boots thudded softly against the street. "I trust I didn' keep ye waitin' too long." He smiled quickly, looking distractedly up at the barsign. "They do like their electrics, don' they?" He had to practically squint against it, so bright at night...

Jack chittered quietly, leaning forward on Barbossa's shoulder as if to inspect Scarab. The monkey reached a hair forward, probably looking to pull hair or transfer rides. Hector's half-gloved hand reached up to swat the creature, though. "None a' tha', now. Must keep our manner abou' us." He chuckled low, reaching for the bar's door and holding it open. "Shall we?" He inquired.

Scarab looked up at the little monkey with an almost child-like grin.

" Oh wow!" she exclaimed, and tentatively reached out a fanger to touch it's fur.

" Screw manners, I don't mind if it grabs me...uh, what's it's name?"

He seemed intent on keeping the little thing under control, and probably for the best because she wouldn't be happy were the little creature to make off with one of her gold hair ornaments.
Well, they looked like hair ornaments, but actually the sticks she used to keep her waist length black hair up and out of her face tapered into wicked points, thus making them a hidden weapon should the need ever arise.

There wasn't much about Scarab or her appearence that wasn't practical.

She frowned a little when Barbossa told the little monkey to stay put, but gave way with grace and preceeded him into the pub.

'The Coloseum' (http://www.olamgadol.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/Vilnius%20Gate%20into%20Ghetto%20Antokolskio%20St.jpg) was a bit dark and frowsy on the inside, but she supposed after his comment on the over-abundance of modern electricity that Hector wouldn't mind much.

The bar itself was empty, but she decided on a slightly more comfortable booth for seating arrangements. ( It also kept her from the embarrassing moment of having to climb onto a barstool. Damned westerners and thier long legs.)

"Have a seat, and tell me what your drinking. I'm buying."

It seemed safer to regulate drink consumption this trip, because Scarab seriously doubted Faye would be pleased if she ended up having to drag another tipsy aquaintence back to Faye's apartement at some ungodly hour.

The monkey grinned at the woman, seemingly enjoying his moment of attention. "Jack's his name." Barbossa revealed with a wry smile. "Jack the monkey." He wasn't sure that Scarab knew Jack Sparrow, or would even relate the name, but he could still see the fun in the mockingly-named creature.

He was glad for the bar's darkness; it wasn't something like he was used to. It was comfortable, and he blended well. Sliding into the booth, he regarded Scarab for a moment. She'd practically ordered her paying, and he turned up another smile. True, she hadn't done anything forcful, but even such a affirm statement was something uncommon in the proper ladies of his day. She moved acutely; he could already tell that she was no fool.

He didn't argue, only relaxed into his seat and spoke, "Dark rum, if ye would. Loveliest of drinks in the Caribbean." Even in his time, the drink had become a large part of the island economy, fast growing in the hearts and bellies of sailors and those turned pirate. He reached up to prod Jack's small arm, recieving a small screech in responce. "And a bit 'a' water fer Jack, if ye wouldn' mind." It wouldn't do the poor thing any good, but the creature acted out of habit, and Barbossa did the same when it came to caring for it.

Scarab nodded and made her way to the bar.
After a few minutes of waiting, she was provided with a laden tray, and soon was setting an empty glass and bottle of rum before Barbossa, and a tall slender LIT for herself.

She slid into the booth and held out a small shot glass of water for the monkey in hopes it would be enticed to come close enough to be pet. ( she was still rather taken with the little thing)
Her plan worked, and a giggle escaped her before she could think too hard on how it might look to Hector.( i.e. girlish & young)
In her time, pets were either cloned from originals or completly cybernetic allowing for the skin, fur, or scales that covered thier outer skins to be biological.
She had known of a few people who had dogs or cats, and she herself had kept a few fish, but an animal like this was very exotic to her, and brought her inner child's wonder to the forefront.

Still slightly preoccupied with the monkey, Jack, she dug in the pocket of her vinyl pants and came up with the battered pack of hand-rolled cigarettes. She offerred Barbossa one and asked; " Judging by your clothes, the comment about the caribbean, and this little guy --" she grinned and pet Jack agian for good measure "-- I'm going to assume your some kind of sailor in your homeworld, and it's sometime during the 1800' yes?"

He chuckled once she'd returned and coaxed Jack away with the water, "Ye'll spoil 'im, now. Careful, 'er he'll take te yer side and ne'er leave." Maybe that wouldn't be to her dislike, though, for all that she looked like a kid at Christmastime now. Still, he filled his glass and observed.

After a few short drinks, he took up an offered cigarette. He'd never been much of a smoking man, himself, but polite was polite, and each and every sensation he could get would certainly be a welcome one. He didn't think himself to have any matches, so he simply fiddled with the item for a moment before propping the end of it in between his lips.

The more unoccupied side of his mouth turned up at her inquiry, "Sailin' was a joy 'o' my youth. When plans go astray and life becomes routine..." He drifted off, this was the case of many a man in his day. "Pirate's what I am." His crooked grin broadened, "One 'o' the best, if I should say so meself. Free and feared, I was." That's what was important to a pirate, most often.

"And yerself?" He'd drawn the cigarette from his mouth again, flipping it amoung his fingers while he drank, and then regarding Scarab over the edge of his glass. "Ye move with something more practiced than normal folks. A gymnast, perhaps? A lover?" A pause, and he reached out to scratch absently at Jack's head, "A killer?" His eyes glared, and his smile curved in a way that seemed almost playful.

Scarab had shown polite interest to the revelation that he was a pirate back in his world of origin. Seemed to make a lot of sense, but raised the question: why didn't he bunk with that other group of pirates living on the coast in building 13?

She was just forming the question when his speculations caught up withher.

She froze. Not in the sense that a rabbit freezes when it understands the fox is staring it down, but rather as the fox freezes; A predator holding it's prey with the killing gaze.
The look that speaks volumes and communicates between hunter to the hunted that this will be thier end.
That death has found them.

With a smile that hinted at secrets best left untold, she looked him up and down with an appraising eye.
Granted the red of her eyes was due to implanted lenses that showed her body temperature, respiration, and could be shifted to see in infared, but the effect was most pleasing when a mark got a good long look at her blood red eyes.
Many a powerful man had been frightened of those ruby colored lenses when they stared down from behind the muzzle of a gun, and held no more emotion than the cold hard gemstones they impersonated.

" Yes." she said, affirming all three of Hector's thoughts on her nature.

Turning her attention back to ashing her cigarette, she dropped the harmless girl routine, and let herself relax.
Scarab had spent many years learning to imitate the reactions and idiosyncrosies of women who acted as she wished to portray. It was difficult at first, but now closer to second nature, and served well to cover her more sociopathic tendancies.
Most men would take her at face value, underestimated her, which of course was the point of the entire fascade.

" So, do you remember what brought such a fearful pirate like you to this madhouse in the middle of a desert?"

With a demeanor that locked for a moment then changed, smooth as the flow of water, Scarab stared him back down. He hadn't noticed the unusual eye color before, but only noted it with broader expression of his amused-seeming expression. She was certainly something different, and he found himself enjoying the company.

It looked as if they'd be posing questions back and forth, not at all unusual for people of little acquantance. What was it that had brought him here...? His amusement melded into a thoughtful look, his hand still absently scratching at his vested pet's head. He paused for another swig from his glass, looking to her once more, steadily for a moment, before he spoke. "Business, I suppose. The details are a little shady, but I have words and deals that I gotta' keep. I tell Tia Dalma that I'll find Jack Sparrow, and I end up here after him."

Jack stepped away from him, and his idle hand instead went to drumming knuckles on the table softly. "I'm not sure how I managed it, I'll tell ye the truth, but here I am." Another drink, topped off with a meaningless smile, "Yerself?"

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Log: Ongoing

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Uhhhh...trying that YET AGIAN >.<

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