~~Cutscene (Common) - Pokkén Tournament OST~~
Dawn Station, Origin Industries HQ, Payroll Department
Tuesdays were the busiest days in the payroll department. Or maybe just this particular Tuesday. Most employees preferred to have their weekly checks directly deposited to their account in the form of delicious, instantly available KS. However; there were those who had bank accounts back home on Nepleslia, or preferred their check to be a little more literal so they could convert it into the less traceable DA-- or even worse the occasional malfunction in the debiting system that led to the mysterious absence of any wages when one woke up in the morning with the noble intention of donating their entire check to some worthy cause. Rather, it seemed that people whose money had gone missing more often than not claimed to be planning a large donation of some sort. The implication being that the wicked folk in the payroll department were stealing from orphans or the disabled or possessors of rare space-faring diseases or the Freespacer Relief Fund or whatever charitable cause seemed most likely to get the money in faster.
As such, there was a small gathering of Origin Employees already in the payroll department where on a normal day there would only be the silent workers in their cubicles. A man behind the reception desk was tossing datapads and loose papers in either direction, only to occasionally pick up one of the thrown objects and take some information from it before hastily typing something out and producing an artifact of the distant past: the much-coveted paper check.
The last individual to snatch up his check and abscond from the reception desk with a hop in his step was one of the station's radio personalities, host of the midnight music hour 'Silver Sounds'. His Origin uniform was practically draped over his tall, lanky form and his smooth chocolate skin shon even under the artificial lights with elegant tattoos breaking up the glare from the array of golden piercings lining his features. Mark sauntered away from the desk with a soft smile-- he'd always gotten his check this way and didn't mind the wait. And the funds were welcome.
Meanwhile, coming from the intersection of another wing of the offices was the station's resident bundle of rage. Taela carried a light stack of paperwork and looked smug about it, her tail swishing behind her. She wasn't even clothed in uniform, the cur! Instead, she wore a loose tee and fitted jeans, with an unzipped hoodie to complete the "casual streetgoer" ensemble.
"Oh." She said, stopping in her tracks when she saw Mark. "Hey."
"Well, hello." Mark slid his check into an inside pocket and put on the most endearing smile he could find for the situation from his library of endearing smiles. "If it ain't Taela, out in the HQ for a stroll in her streets. You doin' some business here, Kitty?"
"Yeah, you could say that," she said, lifting up the top sheet of her stack. It clearly listed various legal jargon and pointless dithering, but the main thing that could be read was "Official Resignation Severance Package."
"I'm finally getting out of this shithole testing job," she smugly declared, tucking the paper back onto the stack like it was her pride and joy.
It wasn't certain whether he just did it to be friendly or the expression was genuine, but Markus reacted with a look of hurt shock. "Oh dear! You're leavin' me. I know we haven't spoke much since all that nasty business with, eh..." The smile was back. "But I guess you're at least holdin' out on me with some job leads, aren't ya? Where ya headed, sugar?"
"No clue, but I got a boat with my name on it. And I've upgraded my Impulse to help me run it with all the side shit." Taela responded, popping out her communicator and projecting an image of the Hime-Class Yacht that she was now the proud owner of. "Not sure where I'll go, but there's plenty I could be doin' besides getting shot at by giant robotic assholes."
"Wow, nice digs." Said the taller man, eyebrows climbing, "Way better use of your money than what I ended up with. So, you'll take passengers or...?"
"Eh, probably whenever I need more cash. Even after buyin' all this shit I still got enough for all the basics for a good while. The benefits of working a job that pays for room and board, I guess. Your money just sits there in a pile and gets bigger."
There was a low chuckle and Markus slid one hand onto Taela's shoulder to give her a good, friendly pat. He seemed like he wanted to say 'I'm proud of you', but that wasn't the kind of thing you said to an equal. At least, not a Yamataian equal. Instead of pondering this social difference, he decided to turn the pat into a squeeze and raise his eyebrows again to ask, "So, you been on a tuor of the place yet? Y'know, I got some stuff in my warehouse that might just help you fit her out. Alcohol, frozen fish, the works. I won a salvage contest."
"Just virtual tours. I'm gonna pick it up from the production yard later today. Gotta love that employee discount and- frozen fish? You won frozen fish in a salvage contest?" Taela's mouth dropped a little as she tilted her head in question. She didn't even shy from the touch.
"Eight-thousand keys of the stuff." Was the shrugging answer.
"More fish than the Ketsuruis got, I'm guessing. Yeah sure, I'll take you up on that now. My afternoon's free, after all! Ha!"
Taela was suddenly overcome with a light fit of giggles. This sudden mirth surprised Mark, though he didn't show it. He'd always seen her at least somewhat irritated, and now for the first time in-- well, it was more than a year anyway. For the first time since they'd met he was seeing a smile for a reason that wasn't related to relief.
"You're actually really happy, aren't you?" He observed, seeming a little bit happier for it. "You got a hell of a smile today, Kitty."
"Fuck yeah! I'm doin' something for me and it feels gooood!" the semi-neko pumped a free fist. "No corporate, no eldritch bastards, no corporate eldritch bastards, just me and a whole lotta machine! I even got a bike now!"
"Well, well, well..." For some reason, Mark had to shake his head here, like he'd just heard the most obscure and absurd joke. Then, he finally took his hand from her shoulder and jammed it into his pocket. "Why don't you go ahead and file this paperwork, then-- I reckon it'll take a while and--"
"Already done. This is the paperwork they gave me for handing in my shit."
"Then, this is uh," Mark smiled bashfully, "Well, I was gonna pop out and go rent a truck to load all this fish onto. Meet you at your ship? Maybe we could break out some of the booze and have a little going away party. It'll be like old times except fun."
Taela couldn't help but laugh at the last comment. And laugh some more. But eventually she stopped and nodded, wiping away a tear. "Yeah, yeah, sounds great!"
"Alright! That's what I like to hear." Mark flipped out his communicator and gave it a few pokes and sweeps. Then, he quickly wrapped Talea into a one-armed hug. Before she could question this sudden flare-up of emotion, she felt the vibration in her hoodie pocket that he'd been looking for. "Seems like you still got my number. Give me a call when you're headed to the shipyard, sweetie."
"Er, yeah will do!" she responded, clearly a little off guard from the hug.
-Some Time Later-
Six thick wheels left black tread marks on the smooth pathway where hover vehicles normally zipped back and forth as some sort of smoke-belching machination sputtered its way through the loading dock. Workers and ship owners alike turned their heads with wide eyes, not at the disgusting vehicle which was uncommon but not unheard of; but rather at the heavy and incredibly sexy bass pounding out of the box truck's speakers. As he trundled up to the freshly christened Princess-class Yacht at the end of the line, Markus pounded out the beat to his music with one arm smacking the side of his door and his lips drawn into a passionate overbite while his head bobbed in perfect rythm. Fortunately for the people around the dock, when he backed the beastly machination he was driving up to the Princess' loading dock, he turned off the music and hopped out with a distinctly bottle-shaped paper bag tucked under one arm. Standing with his parcel and leaning an elbow against his truck, he took a long glance at the expansive length of the yacht and let out a whistle.
"Hot as ice." He said, his voice a low moan almost drowned out by the distant sound of haulers and beeping lift trucks.
Taela waited outside the loading dock (Well, one of two, really) on the side of the Princess, and waited for Mark. Unfortunately for the both of them, she was waiting on the wrong side. Or maybe Mark drove up to the wrong side.
Thankfully, she is a being that possesses ears, and heard the very Mark-esque music playing on the distinctly opposite side of her new vessel, so she walked straight from one side to the other and opened the hatch. "Huh, you weren't fuckin' kidding about the fish, were you?" she greeted, eyeing the truck.
"I would never lie to you, baby." Markus jutted a thumb over his shoulder to the truck as he approached and handed the paper bag to Taela, "This old girl was the only thing on the lot big enough to even get all of it in one trip. It burns ethanol and cooking oil, how about that? I brought some other goodies, too."
"Nice. A good bit of booze is always nice," she said gesturing into the ship. Her custom Impulse came out and wandered over to the back of the truck, popping open the roller-door and began to pull pallets of fish out. The benefits of military-grade power armor showed themselves, it seemed as it managed to carry each one of them with relative easy, even if it didn't have the advantage of forklift arms. "It's a handy one, isn't it?" she said, waving for Mark to follow.
Markus gave the armor a sidelong glance as he followed Taela into the ship. 'Sure, it's handy,' he said into the silence of his mind, 'But it doesn't know how to turn on grav pallets, either... not that it needs to.'
"Damn, Kitty," Was what Markus felt safe saying out loud when they ducked into the clean, freshly built corridors. "This ship is clean as hell, like freezerburn incarnate."
"I mean, it is a yacht, after all. That and it literally rolled off the factory line like last week and has been airtight-sealed since. No dust anywhere. And I'm gonna pick up one of those cleaning drones to make sure it at least stays shiny-looking. I want this to be something I can take pride in! Well that, and maybe airbike races on Nepleslia Prime. Those look pretty fun."
"I covered a few in my time," Provided the former journalist behind her, head on a swivel to take in every inch of pure, clean geometry, "They a'ight. S'possin' you don't slam your pretty head into a divider."
"That's why you wear helmets!" she laughed, guiding him to the lounge area. Which was in-fact, up a floor, so they had to take an elevator up - and it still had its preset generic elevator music still enabled ("Remind me to change that later"). But soon enough, they were in the cozyish room. It had all the basic amenities, but it didn't quite look lived in yet, the way a fine lounge is supposed to.
"Huh, comes with the trifecta of uh. . . seat-ware." the neko commented, pointing at the one-seat, two-seat, and three-seat versions of the same thing.
"Was always a sectional man, myself." Admitted Mark, loosening his tie. He folded up the length of silk and slid it into the side pocket of his green and black Origin coat before hanging the coat up on a rack next to the door. Then, rolling up his sleeves and fanning the open collar to let his chest breath, he pulled a flask and a pack of cigarettes from the coat and started to pace around the trifecta. Always at home in anything that could be called a 'lounge', Markus made an easy circle of the place while he waited to see where Taela would sit-- after all, he wanted her to be the first person to really relax in her new ship and there was a feeling that receiving her free fish was the last chore before the first night as a free woman.
She made a run onto and over the back of the couch, occupying one and a half seats as she landed neatly next to one of the armrests with her legs almost splayed out on the seats.
"Well, certainly feels like luxury furniture. Really goddamn comfy!" Taela commented, sinking back into the mysteriously nondescript fillings of the cushions.
"Oh, wait until you break it in." Mark assured her as he worked his way around the couch to take up a cross legged position at her feet; allowing them to engage in the sitting configuration that had been a classic of girls' nights since the dawn of couches: The Rowboat. He settled his things on the provided coffee table and without an explanation untied Taela's shoes. "Things like this are what make the good life good. Fast cars and big houses don't mean anything-- it's the little stuff that seals the deal."
"But fast cars and big houses don't hurt either," she snickered, kicking her shoes off once he had sufficiently loosened them to the other side of the room. "So you got some booze, what else you got? I mean, I picked up a snack platter on my way here from that little place next to that fountain on the spire. You know, the one with the phoenix guy on it."
He knew the place. It was his stop for breakfast after hosting his show every night. Still, Markus focused on answering the questions while he peeled Taela's socks off with a satisfied look on his face. "Oh, just some stuff for later. Going away presents, I guess. Things I won, but probably won't use or had a whole bunch of. Lorath Wine, some peppermint oil, a few mixed bottles of other booze. Y'know, creature comforts."
His idea of creature comforts was bizarre to say the least, but made a lot of sense when one considered that he was now giving Taela a foot massage with the same sort of casual look as somebody doing their weekly budget.
"I gotcha. I heard some funny things about Lorath wine though. Is it true about the whole aphrodesiac thing I keep hearing about?" she responded, flexing her feet tenatively but not hating the attention. She turned her neck to the hall and shouted, "Kikaider, bring the snack platter in, would ya?"
"I don't know if it works on Neko," Said Mark with a shrug, really working his thumbs into those tense muscles. Tense, but not like they'd ever been before. "It tastes pretty sweet, though. Maybe you could find out and let me know?"
"Hrm, that name doesn't feel right either. Gonna have to pick a new one from the hat later. . ." she mumbled before responding, "Heh, maybe I will!"
Her black Impulse with purple trim entered the room with the plastic-platter of goodies, mostly small sandwiches kept cool in the fridge, but also a lovely variety of Nepleslian veggies and dip. The platter was placed on the coffee table, and away the machine went.
Mark watched it out of the corner of his eye, but didn't stop working. He was the sort of person who found it more relaxing to work with his hands. The food could come later, when they were both that drunk sort of hungry that made everything taste better. Smiling, he started the conversation again with a playful stab. "Damn, Kitty, your little feet are givin' up on me early. Must be this good life you're startin' out on already softening you up."
"I'm just trying out this new 'happy' thing all the kids are talking about. Feels pretty good."
Mark took one hand to the table and pinched up the first bottle of booze with a smile while his other hand worked Taela's feet one at a time. Squeeze the left, then the right. Thumb the heel. Gently depress a pressure point. It was a practiced method. Soon, though, the stimulation stopped and was replaced with warmth. Mark leaned forward, pouring some whiskey into a glass and holding it straight cupped in his palm to deliver it to Taela, pressing himself against her knees so he could present it without her having to get up. "I gotta say," He told her over the edge of the drink, eyes twinkling, "It looks real good on you. You should stick with it. I love seeing you this way, 'smuch as I might miss us relying on each other in the cockpit."
"Yeah but that'd require a lot of getting shot at. And we all know how I feel about that!" Taela took the glass and took a sip, wincing a little at the strength but giving a thumbs up.
"Oh, honey I know-- but it's all about the bond, ain't it?" Mark shook his head and worked at pouring his own glass before clanking their glasses together with a smirk. "You don't make this kind of friendship in broadcasting. Or maybe y'do... But it's never as sweet. Y'know, we may not talk as much as we used to, but in a way I really treasure the time we spent together. I been shot at in much worse company, anyway."
"Oh? Do tell!"
"Well, there was this one time, back on Geshrintal..."
-Even More Time Later-
One of the glasses was broken and hastily swept to the side in a small pile. Fourteen half-smoked cigarettes were stubbed out in the ashtray and three empty bottles of different liquors were tilted over on their side or wedged into the cushions of the loveseat across from the couch where Markus sat. He'd unbuttoned even more of his shirt at this point, almost exposing his navel and certainly exposing the broad length of tattoos covering his chest. With his arms spread, he was gesturing in some way as to recreate a scene where two ships were passing by each other with guns blazing. The unlit cigarette bobbing up and down in his mouth was well beyond its smokable lifetime, all bent and crumpled from frequent setting down and picking up.
"And then that fat man I was tellin' you about earlier-- Stibley, he goes an' he be all like, 'Ya'll best git offa my ship afore Orisec gets here!' Hah, and that's when I finally tells him me and the moustache man is just journalists and the whole thing's just a big sham!" Mark's story came to a roaring ending, a tale of romance, betrayal, and treachery on the stars climaxing with a big space fight and a boarding party made up of employees of teh freighter owner's own company running in only to be confused when their ship wasn't even captured. It was, according to Mark, 'a typical Thursday night back in those days'.
"Hanako's cock, the hell did you survive all of that? Especially that bit about the elevator?" A now more-than-slightly buzzed Taela asked, dumbfounded.
"Are you kidding, baby?" Markus shot her a skeptical glance and threw an arm over her to pull her tight against his side, "I'm a journalist."
"Man. . . That's just. Wow. Wow."
"You alright, Kitty?" Mark asked softly, petting her hair and ruffling her ears just a bit, "You didn't accidently get into the Lorath Wine and now you're thinkin' about some girlfriend or whatever? I could go, 'n stuff. I could--" Markus took a second to level his head and bulge out his eyes, blinked three times, then reassumed his casual pose and kept talking, "I could go out to the truck an' take a nap-- come check on ya later and--" Blink-blink-blink. "n' stuff."
"No, I'm good it's just. . . how could you stomach that sort of thing? I mean. . ." she stared at the wall for a minute struggling to come up with the words. "You Nepleslians, you're a bit more mortal than I am. Why'd you go and risk your life so many times if you're only getting one shot at it?"
Taela sidled up to Mark, leaning her back into him.
"I dunno," Mark shrugged into her, settling his arm lower to the curvature of her hips with his hand resting on her stomach so it wouldn't just hover ominously over her chest after she turned. Pulling her a little bit more, though, he did just barely graze the edge of her hip bone with a stray finger-- that sort of calculated intimacy that was always around to let her know to just be comfortable. "I always thought, y'know, even with soul transfers... Like, if that version of you dies, you're dead. Or like, if the first version of you died then you're dead. Like, every time you switch bodies you're just somebody else with the same memories n' shit. It's like you're made for those of us left behind. We still get to love and cherish, butcho ass is dead."
"Huh. . . never really gave it much thought. Never had to res myself. It's weird. . . I kinda just take it for granted. . ." Taela mumbled. She settled her weight onto mark, looking up at him. "But still, it's way more dangerous for you. You can't just slap on a pouch of hemosynth and call it a day for your problems, you gotta contend with disease and bleeding and stuff. . ."
"Disease ain't so bad, and bleeding--" The former journalist looked down at the edge of a scar poking out from behind the fabric of his shirt and traced its shape with his eyes until it ran up into the loose strands of Taela's hair cascading down over his shoulder. "We stop bleeding eventually. And really, it's just pain. Ain't nothin' a little opiate can't correct. Besides, a lot of folks don't even have real bodies, don't know how things feel. A machine body couldn't smell your hair right now, or understand the warmth of our bodies and shit-- it'd just be like, particles in the air and tempurature readings to them."
"Like a Freespacer? Never got to know that one that joined us all that well. . . Can't even remember her name."
"Like, Switchbreak, or Jailbreak, or some kinda somethin'." Mark shook off the attempt at trying to remember. In his current state, his detail-oriented mind was vague set peice-oriented at best. For him, even through all the stories, all that mattered at the moment was relaxing and helping Taela relax. After all, he had to remind himself, he might not see her again after this. "Yo, uh, how often do you think you might visit, Kitty?" He asked, not sounding sad, but rather hopeful, "Just, y'know, I don't run into you around the station anymore and I don't really talk to anybody else that much. They guys and gals at the station are sweet, and lunch with Kelly every now an' then is a thing-- but I kinda feel bad we stopped talkin'. I never realized how much I missed having you next to me until tonight. We used to really be a team, didn't we?"
"Yeah, guess we did. . . Sittin' like this is kinda like how we used to pilot. But I will remember to visit, don' worry." She rested her head under his chin, sighing comfortably. "Might not be every day, but I'll visit."
"Hell, maybe I'll get some brat to sub-host for a while and come on an adventure or two with you." There was just a hint of laughter in Markus' tone. He chuckled a little more and pulled her up right against his back with both hands intertwined over her stomach and whispered in her ear, "Where should we go together? Check out some races on Delsauria? Maybe get back to Geshrintal and go sit in a tea-house? Fight crime like vigilantes on the streets of Funky City? Honey, you take me along with you somewheres and the galaxy is our oyster-- our sweet p'tato pie-- a whole family-sized bucket of fresh, steaming and greasy fried chicken with a side of mashed p'tatoes and gravy."
"That sounds fucking awesome!" Taela began laughing. And continued laughing. And laughed some more and cried. And then cried some more until she'd devolved into sniffles.
She was quickly turned around to face the chocolate colored man behind her. He looked at her with concern on his features. "What's wrong, pussy cat?" He asked softly, taking a thick thumb to paintbrush away the tears on her cheeks, "You ain't gotta take me anywhere you if you don't wanna-- I was just s'posin' is all."
"N-no it ain't that. . ." she mumbled, trying not to look him in the eyes. "I just. . . Things haven't really gone that well in my life. I have happy bits, but things just. . . happen that are worse. . . I don't want this to be like that too."
"Well it ain't gonna be like that. Let me tell you a secret." Markus pulled Taela up a little bit and lowered himself, hunching his back on the couch so he could get right in her face, like a coach giving a pep talk or a marketing director sharing a hot tip about a new client. "What always made you beautiful was that you were strong, no matter how mad life made you. You never fell over, just took it and marched with it. And now, you're strong and independant. You got control over this life and you can take whatever you want. There's nobody alive who can stop you from bein' happy now, and that's a garauntee."
Taela sucked in a sniffled and nodded. "What'd I ever do to make you so nice to me?"
"Remember that first time we went out together in the robot?" Mark knew she did, so he didn't wait for an answer. "We had to get out in our suits in space. I was real scared. I always have been scared of spacewalks-- that vacuum is too big for me. It's like some people are scared of heights. Well, I told you how scared I was and you just grabbed me up and took me back to the ship where we were supposed to be-- real firm like, tellin' me we had to get to Yoshiko and save her. You were a hero, and you made me a hero too." By this point, Mark had run his hands up her back so her could pull her just the short few centimeters between them and deploy the most gentle kiss to her forehead before finishing, "That was when I knew-- Everybody is beautiful, and your special beauty is your strength. I'd do just about anything you said, b'cuz I trust you that much, baby."
Taela sat in silence for a minute before wrapping her arms around Mark tight. And then continued being silent for another five. When she finally broke the silence, she had a question.
"Can we just sleep like this tonight?"
"You add a bed to this equation and we can sleep like this every night, honey." Mark whispered to her, "Otherwise, I might start getting upset about my legs falling asleep before I do."
"Master suite is just down the hall," she replied in kind.
Dawn Station, Origin Industries HQ, Payroll Department
Tuesdays were the busiest days in the payroll department. Or maybe just this particular Tuesday. Most employees preferred to have their weekly checks directly deposited to their account in the form of delicious, instantly available KS. However; there were those who had bank accounts back home on Nepleslia, or preferred their check to be a little more literal so they could convert it into the less traceable DA-- or even worse the occasional malfunction in the debiting system that led to the mysterious absence of any wages when one woke up in the morning with the noble intention of donating their entire check to some worthy cause. Rather, it seemed that people whose money had gone missing more often than not claimed to be planning a large donation of some sort. The implication being that the wicked folk in the payroll department were stealing from orphans or the disabled or possessors of rare space-faring diseases or the Freespacer Relief Fund or whatever charitable cause seemed most likely to get the money in faster.
As such, there was a small gathering of Origin Employees already in the payroll department where on a normal day there would only be the silent workers in their cubicles. A man behind the reception desk was tossing datapads and loose papers in either direction, only to occasionally pick up one of the thrown objects and take some information from it before hastily typing something out and producing an artifact of the distant past: the much-coveted paper check.
The last individual to snatch up his check and abscond from the reception desk with a hop in his step was one of the station's radio personalities, host of the midnight music hour 'Silver Sounds'. His Origin uniform was practically draped over his tall, lanky form and his smooth chocolate skin shon even under the artificial lights with elegant tattoos breaking up the glare from the array of golden piercings lining his features. Mark sauntered away from the desk with a soft smile-- he'd always gotten his check this way and didn't mind the wait. And the funds were welcome.
Meanwhile, coming from the intersection of another wing of the offices was the station's resident bundle of rage. Taela carried a light stack of paperwork and looked smug about it, her tail swishing behind her. She wasn't even clothed in uniform, the cur! Instead, she wore a loose tee and fitted jeans, with an unzipped hoodie to complete the "casual streetgoer" ensemble.
"Oh." She said, stopping in her tracks when she saw Mark. "Hey."
"Well, hello." Mark slid his check into an inside pocket and put on the most endearing smile he could find for the situation from his library of endearing smiles. "If it ain't Taela, out in the HQ for a stroll in her streets. You doin' some business here, Kitty?"
"Yeah, you could say that," she said, lifting up the top sheet of her stack. It clearly listed various legal jargon and pointless dithering, but the main thing that could be read was "Official Resignation Severance Package."
"I'm finally getting out of this shithole testing job," she smugly declared, tucking the paper back onto the stack like it was her pride and joy.
It wasn't certain whether he just did it to be friendly or the expression was genuine, but Markus reacted with a look of hurt shock. "Oh dear! You're leavin' me. I know we haven't spoke much since all that nasty business with, eh..." The smile was back. "But I guess you're at least holdin' out on me with some job leads, aren't ya? Where ya headed, sugar?"
"No clue, but I got a boat with my name on it. And I've upgraded my Impulse to help me run it with all the side shit." Taela responded, popping out her communicator and projecting an image of the Hime-Class Yacht that she was now the proud owner of. "Not sure where I'll go, but there's plenty I could be doin' besides getting shot at by giant robotic assholes."
"Wow, nice digs." Said the taller man, eyebrows climbing, "Way better use of your money than what I ended up with. So, you'll take passengers or...?"
"Eh, probably whenever I need more cash. Even after buyin' all this shit I still got enough for all the basics for a good while. The benefits of working a job that pays for room and board, I guess. Your money just sits there in a pile and gets bigger."
There was a low chuckle and Markus slid one hand onto Taela's shoulder to give her a good, friendly pat. He seemed like he wanted to say 'I'm proud of you', but that wasn't the kind of thing you said to an equal. At least, not a Yamataian equal. Instead of pondering this social difference, he decided to turn the pat into a squeeze and raise his eyebrows again to ask, "So, you been on a tuor of the place yet? Y'know, I got some stuff in my warehouse that might just help you fit her out. Alcohol, frozen fish, the works. I won a salvage contest."
"Just virtual tours. I'm gonna pick it up from the production yard later today. Gotta love that employee discount and- frozen fish? You won frozen fish in a salvage contest?" Taela's mouth dropped a little as she tilted her head in question. She didn't even shy from the touch.
"Eight-thousand keys of the stuff." Was the shrugging answer.
"More fish than the Ketsuruis got, I'm guessing. Yeah sure, I'll take you up on that now. My afternoon's free, after all! Ha!"
Taela was suddenly overcome with a light fit of giggles. This sudden mirth surprised Mark, though he didn't show it. He'd always seen her at least somewhat irritated, and now for the first time in-- well, it was more than a year anyway. For the first time since they'd met he was seeing a smile for a reason that wasn't related to relief.
"You're actually really happy, aren't you?" He observed, seeming a little bit happier for it. "You got a hell of a smile today, Kitty."
"Fuck yeah! I'm doin' something for me and it feels gooood!" the semi-neko pumped a free fist. "No corporate, no eldritch bastards, no corporate eldritch bastards, just me and a whole lotta machine! I even got a bike now!"
"Well, well, well..." For some reason, Mark had to shake his head here, like he'd just heard the most obscure and absurd joke. Then, he finally took his hand from her shoulder and jammed it into his pocket. "Why don't you go ahead and file this paperwork, then-- I reckon it'll take a while and--"
"Already done. This is the paperwork they gave me for handing in my shit."
"Then, this is uh," Mark smiled bashfully, "Well, I was gonna pop out and go rent a truck to load all this fish onto. Meet you at your ship? Maybe we could break out some of the booze and have a little going away party. It'll be like old times except fun."
Taela couldn't help but laugh at the last comment. And laugh some more. But eventually she stopped and nodded, wiping away a tear. "Yeah, yeah, sounds great!"
"Alright! That's what I like to hear." Mark flipped out his communicator and gave it a few pokes and sweeps. Then, he quickly wrapped Talea into a one-armed hug. Before she could question this sudden flare-up of emotion, she felt the vibration in her hoodie pocket that he'd been looking for. "Seems like you still got my number. Give me a call when you're headed to the shipyard, sweetie."
"Er, yeah will do!" she responded, clearly a little off guard from the hug.
-Some Time Later-
Six thick wheels left black tread marks on the smooth pathway where hover vehicles normally zipped back and forth as some sort of smoke-belching machination sputtered its way through the loading dock. Workers and ship owners alike turned their heads with wide eyes, not at the disgusting vehicle which was uncommon but not unheard of; but rather at the heavy and incredibly sexy bass pounding out of the box truck's speakers. As he trundled up to the freshly christened Princess-class Yacht at the end of the line, Markus pounded out the beat to his music with one arm smacking the side of his door and his lips drawn into a passionate overbite while his head bobbed in perfect rythm. Fortunately for the people around the dock, when he backed the beastly machination he was driving up to the Princess' loading dock, he turned off the music and hopped out with a distinctly bottle-shaped paper bag tucked under one arm. Standing with his parcel and leaning an elbow against his truck, he took a long glance at the expansive length of the yacht and let out a whistle.
"Hot as ice." He said, his voice a low moan almost drowned out by the distant sound of haulers and beeping lift trucks.
Taela waited outside the loading dock (Well, one of two, really) on the side of the Princess, and waited for Mark. Unfortunately for the both of them, she was waiting on the wrong side. Or maybe Mark drove up to the wrong side.
Thankfully, she is a being that possesses ears, and heard the very Mark-esque music playing on the distinctly opposite side of her new vessel, so she walked straight from one side to the other and opened the hatch. "Huh, you weren't fuckin' kidding about the fish, were you?" she greeted, eyeing the truck.
"I would never lie to you, baby." Markus jutted a thumb over his shoulder to the truck as he approached and handed the paper bag to Taela, "This old girl was the only thing on the lot big enough to even get all of it in one trip. It burns ethanol and cooking oil, how about that? I brought some other goodies, too."
"Nice. A good bit of booze is always nice," she said gesturing into the ship. Her custom Impulse came out and wandered over to the back of the truck, popping open the roller-door and began to pull pallets of fish out. The benefits of military-grade power armor showed themselves, it seemed as it managed to carry each one of them with relative easy, even if it didn't have the advantage of forklift arms. "It's a handy one, isn't it?" she said, waving for Mark to follow.
Markus gave the armor a sidelong glance as he followed Taela into the ship. 'Sure, it's handy,' he said into the silence of his mind, 'But it doesn't know how to turn on grav pallets, either... not that it needs to.'
"Damn, Kitty," Was what Markus felt safe saying out loud when they ducked into the clean, freshly built corridors. "This ship is clean as hell, like freezerburn incarnate."
"I mean, it is a yacht, after all. That and it literally rolled off the factory line like last week and has been airtight-sealed since. No dust anywhere. And I'm gonna pick up one of those cleaning drones to make sure it at least stays shiny-looking. I want this to be something I can take pride in! Well that, and maybe airbike races on Nepleslia Prime. Those look pretty fun."
"I covered a few in my time," Provided the former journalist behind her, head on a swivel to take in every inch of pure, clean geometry, "They a'ight. S'possin' you don't slam your pretty head into a divider."
"That's why you wear helmets!" she laughed, guiding him to the lounge area. Which was in-fact, up a floor, so they had to take an elevator up - and it still had its preset generic elevator music still enabled ("Remind me to change that later"). But soon enough, they were in the cozyish room. It had all the basic amenities, but it didn't quite look lived in yet, the way a fine lounge is supposed to.
"Huh, comes with the trifecta of uh. . . seat-ware." the neko commented, pointing at the one-seat, two-seat, and three-seat versions of the same thing.
"Was always a sectional man, myself." Admitted Mark, loosening his tie. He folded up the length of silk and slid it into the side pocket of his green and black Origin coat before hanging the coat up on a rack next to the door. Then, rolling up his sleeves and fanning the open collar to let his chest breath, he pulled a flask and a pack of cigarettes from the coat and started to pace around the trifecta. Always at home in anything that could be called a 'lounge', Markus made an easy circle of the place while he waited to see where Taela would sit-- after all, he wanted her to be the first person to really relax in her new ship and there was a feeling that receiving her free fish was the last chore before the first night as a free woman.
She made a run onto and over the back of the couch, occupying one and a half seats as she landed neatly next to one of the armrests with her legs almost splayed out on the seats.
"Well, certainly feels like luxury furniture. Really goddamn comfy!" Taela commented, sinking back into the mysteriously nondescript fillings of the cushions.
"Oh, wait until you break it in." Mark assured her as he worked his way around the couch to take up a cross legged position at her feet; allowing them to engage in the sitting configuration that had been a classic of girls' nights since the dawn of couches: The Rowboat. He settled his things on the provided coffee table and without an explanation untied Taela's shoes. "Things like this are what make the good life good. Fast cars and big houses don't mean anything-- it's the little stuff that seals the deal."
"But fast cars and big houses don't hurt either," she snickered, kicking her shoes off once he had sufficiently loosened them to the other side of the room. "So you got some booze, what else you got? I mean, I picked up a snack platter on my way here from that little place next to that fountain on the spire. You know, the one with the phoenix guy on it."
He knew the place. It was his stop for breakfast after hosting his show every night. Still, Markus focused on answering the questions while he peeled Taela's socks off with a satisfied look on his face. "Oh, just some stuff for later. Going away presents, I guess. Things I won, but probably won't use or had a whole bunch of. Lorath Wine, some peppermint oil, a few mixed bottles of other booze. Y'know, creature comforts."
His idea of creature comforts was bizarre to say the least, but made a lot of sense when one considered that he was now giving Taela a foot massage with the same sort of casual look as somebody doing their weekly budget.
"I gotcha. I heard some funny things about Lorath wine though. Is it true about the whole aphrodesiac thing I keep hearing about?" she responded, flexing her feet tenatively but not hating the attention. She turned her neck to the hall and shouted, "Kikaider, bring the snack platter in, would ya?"
"I don't know if it works on Neko," Said Mark with a shrug, really working his thumbs into those tense muscles. Tense, but not like they'd ever been before. "It tastes pretty sweet, though. Maybe you could find out and let me know?"
"Hrm, that name doesn't feel right either. Gonna have to pick a new one from the hat later. . ." she mumbled before responding, "Heh, maybe I will!"
Her black Impulse with purple trim entered the room with the plastic-platter of goodies, mostly small sandwiches kept cool in the fridge, but also a lovely variety of Nepleslian veggies and dip. The platter was placed on the coffee table, and away the machine went.
Mark watched it out of the corner of his eye, but didn't stop working. He was the sort of person who found it more relaxing to work with his hands. The food could come later, when they were both that drunk sort of hungry that made everything taste better. Smiling, he started the conversation again with a playful stab. "Damn, Kitty, your little feet are givin' up on me early. Must be this good life you're startin' out on already softening you up."
"I'm just trying out this new 'happy' thing all the kids are talking about. Feels pretty good."
Mark took one hand to the table and pinched up the first bottle of booze with a smile while his other hand worked Taela's feet one at a time. Squeeze the left, then the right. Thumb the heel. Gently depress a pressure point. It was a practiced method. Soon, though, the stimulation stopped and was replaced with warmth. Mark leaned forward, pouring some whiskey into a glass and holding it straight cupped in his palm to deliver it to Taela, pressing himself against her knees so he could present it without her having to get up. "I gotta say," He told her over the edge of the drink, eyes twinkling, "It looks real good on you. You should stick with it. I love seeing you this way, 'smuch as I might miss us relying on each other in the cockpit."
"Yeah but that'd require a lot of getting shot at. And we all know how I feel about that!" Taela took the glass and took a sip, wincing a little at the strength but giving a thumbs up.
"Oh, honey I know-- but it's all about the bond, ain't it?" Mark shook his head and worked at pouring his own glass before clanking their glasses together with a smirk. "You don't make this kind of friendship in broadcasting. Or maybe y'do... But it's never as sweet. Y'know, we may not talk as much as we used to, but in a way I really treasure the time we spent together. I been shot at in much worse company, anyway."
"Oh? Do tell!"
"Well, there was this one time, back on Geshrintal..."
-Even More Time Later-
One of the glasses was broken and hastily swept to the side in a small pile. Fourteen half-smoked cigarettes were stubbed out in the ashtray and three empty bottles of different liquors were tilted over on their side or wedged into the cushions of the loveseat across from the couch where Markus sat. He'd unbuttoned even more of his shirt at this point, almost exposing his navel and certainly exposing the broad length of tattoos covering his chest. With his arms spread, he was gesturing in some way as to recreate a scene where two ships were passing by each other with guns blazing. The unlit cigarette bobbing up and down in his mouth was well beyond its smokable lifetime, all bent and crumpled from frequent setting down and picking up.
"And then that fat man I was tellin' you about earlier-- Stibley, he goes an' he be all like, 'Ya'll best git offa my ship afore Orisec gets here!' Hah, and that's when I finally tells him me and the moustache man is just journalists and the whole thing's just a big sham!" Mark's story came to a roaring ending, a tale of romance, betrayal, and treachery on the stars climaxing with a big space fight and a boarding party made up of employees of teh freighter owner's own company running in only to be confused when their ship wasn't even captured. It was, according to Mark, 'a typical Thursday night back in those days'.
"Hanako's cock, the hell did you survive all of that? Especially that bit about the elevator?" A now more-than-slightly buzzed Taela asked, dumbfounded.
"Are you kidding, baby?" Markus shot her a skeptical glance and threw an arm over her to pull her tight against his side, "I'm a journalist."
"Man. . . That's just. Wow. Wow."
"You alright, Kitty?" Mark asked softly, petting her hair and ruffling her ears just a bit, "You didn't accidently get into the Lorath Wine and now you're thinkin' about some girlfriend or whatever? I could go, 'n stuff. I could--" Markus took a second to level his head and bulge out his eyes, blinked three times, then reassumed his casual pose and kept talking, "I could go out to the truck an' take a nap-- come check on ya later and--" Blink-blink-blink. "n' stuff."
"No, I'm good it's just. . . how could you stomach that sort of thing? I mean. . ." she stared at the wall for a minute struggling to come up with the words. "You Nepleslians, you're a bit more mortal than I am. Why'd you go and risk your life so many times if you're only getting one shot at it?"
Taela sidled up to Mark, leaning her back into him.
"I dunno," Mark shrugged into her, settling his arm lower to the curvature of her hips with his hand resting on her stomach so it wouldn't just hover ominously over her chest after she turned. Pulling her a little bit more, though, he did just barely graze the edge of her hip bone with a stray finger-- that sort of calculated intimacy that was always around to let her know to just be comfortable. "I always thought, y'know, even with soul transfers... Like, if that version of you dies, you're dead. Or like, if the first version of you died then you're dead. Like, every time you switch bodies you're just somebody else with the same memories n' shit. It's like you're made for those of us left behind. We still get to love and cherish, butcho ass is dead."
"Huh. . . never really gave it much thought. Never had to res myself. It's weird. . . I kinda just take it for granted. . ." Taela mumbled. She settled her weight onto mark, looking up at him. "But still, it's way more dangerous for you. You can't just slap on a pouch of hemosynth and call it a day for your problems, you gotta contend with disease and bleeding and stuff. . ."
"Disease ain't so bad, and bleeding--" The former journalist looked down at the edge of a scar poking out from behind the fabric of his shirt and traced its shape with his eyes until it ran up into the loose strands of Taela's hair cascading down over his shoulder. "We stop bleeding eventually. And really, it's just pain. Ain't nothin' a little opiate can't correct. Besides, a lot of folks don't even have real bodies, don't know how things feel. A machine body couldn't smell your hair right now, or understand the warmth of our bodies and shit-- it'd just be like, particles in the air and tempurature readings to them."
"Like a Freespacer? Never got to know that one that joined us all that well. . . Can't even remember her name."
"Like, Switchbreak, or Jailbreak, or some kinda somethin'." Mark shook off the attempt at trying to remember. In his current state, his detail-oriented mind was vague set peice-oriented at best. For him, even through all the stories, all that mattered at the moment was relaxing and helping Taela relax. After all, he had to remind himself, he might not see her again after this. "Yo, uh, how often do you think you might visit, Kitty?" He asked, not sounding sad, but rather hopeful, "Just, y'know, I don't run into you around the station anymore and I don't really talk to anybody else that much. They guys and gals at the station are sweet, and lunch with Kelly every now an' then is a thing-- but I kinda feel bad we stopped talkin'. I never realized how much I missed having you next to me until tonight. We used to really be a team, didn't we?"
"Yeah, guess we did. . . Sittin' like this is kinda like how we used to pilot. But I will remember to visit, don' worry." She rested her head under his chin, sighing comfortably. "Might not be every day, but I'll visit."
"Hell, maybe I'll get some brat to sub-host for a while and come on an adventure or two with you." There was just a hint of laughter in Markus' tone. He chuckled a little more and pulled her up right against his back with both hands intertwined over her stomach and whispered in her ear, "Where should we go together? Check out some races on Delsauria? Maybe get back to Geshrintal and go sit in a tea-house? Fight crime like vigilantes on the streets of Funky City? Honey, you take me along with you somewheres and the galaxy is our oyster-- our sweet p'tato pie-- a whole family-sized bucket of fresh, steaming and greasy fried chicken with a side of mashed p'tatoes and gravy."
"That sounds fucking awesome!" Taela began laughing. And continued laughing. And laughed some more and cried. And then cried some more until she'd devolved into sniffles.
She was quickly turned around to face the chocolate colored man behind her. He looked at her with concern on his features. "What's wrong, pussy cat?" He asked softly, taking a thick thumb to paintbrush away the tears on her cheeks, "You ain't gotta take me anywhere you if you don't wanna-- I was just s'posin' is all."
"N-no it ain't that. . ." she mumbled, trying not to look him in the eyes. "I just. . . Things haven't really gone that well in my life. I have happy bits, but things just. . . happen that are worse. . . I don't want this to be like that too."
"Well it ain't gonna be like that. Let me tell you a secret." Markus pulled Taela up a little bit and lowered himself, hunching his back on the couch so he could get right in her face, like a coach giving a pep talk or a marketing director sharing a hot tip about a new client. "What always made you beautiful was that you were strong, no matter how mad life made you. You never fell over, just took it and marched with it. And now, you're strong and independant. You got control over this life and you can take whatever you want. There's nobody alive who can stop you from bein' happy now, and that's a garauntee."
Taela sucked in a sniffled and nodded. "What'd I ever do to make you so nice to me?"
"Remember that first time we went out together in the robot?" Mark knew she did, so he didn't wait for an answer. "We had to get out in our suits in space. I was real scared. I always have been scared of spacewalks-- that vacuum is too big for me. It's like some people are scared of heights. Well, I told you how scared I was and you just grabbed me up and took me back to the ship where we were supposed to be-- real firm like, tellin' me we had to get to Yoshiko and save her. You were a hero, and you made me a hero too." By this point, Mark had run his hands up her back so her could pull her just the short few centimeters between them and deploy the most gentle kiss to her forehead before finishing, "That was when I knew-- Everybody is beautiful, and your special beauty is your strength. I'd do just about anything you said, b'cuz I trust you that much, baby."
Taela sat in silence for a minute before wrapping her arms around Mark tight. And then continued being silent for another five. When she finally broke the silence, she had a question.
"Can we just sleep like this tonight?"
"You add a bed to this equation and we can sleep like this every night, honey." Mark whispered to her, "Otherwise, I might start getting upset about my legs falling asleep before I do."
"Master suite is just down the hall," she replied in kind.
