[I]I hope this is fucking legit[/I] Maverick sighed once more as doubt set in like the morning frost that beset the taxi cab's window. He palmed his face held rigid by his elbow on the car door, street lights illuminating his tired features. He figured the city would retain more heat, and he gave a worried glance at his potted pot plant nestled in his jacket on the seat next to him. Maverick then noticed that the taxi cab driver gave the plant the same worried look. Although obviously for different reasons. With New York not being a state that has recently legalized or decriminalized marijuana, Maverick was performing a felony by toting around his darling sinsemilla. Her name was Sydney, and there was no way Maverick was going to part with this plant. If he was going off world, [I]fuggit[/I], he was going to bring it and he paid the taxi driver well enough to be his accomplice. Cops were the last of his worries. He had given up all of his assets and his house, and his business which was erected from the ground up by his beloved brother. All his money went to charity, and he even broke up with all three of his girlfriends and told them goodbye, accompanying it with some cryptic story (a well bullshitted story) about how he was going to a foreign land for a dangerous mission. The break up sex was amazing. To him, it was technically the truth, or a version of it. Veracity wasn't his best quality. 

His instinct was steadfast however, and it told him that this opportunity was real. Still the doubt lingered like the early morning fog rising from the heated concrete. The taxi lurched to a slow stop. "Is this it?" 

"Yeh kid. What you're looking for is just a block or two up that way." 
Maverick nodded, grabbed his plant and jacket, and then retrieved his duffel bag from the trunk. He then proceeded to walk as the taxi sped away, likely glad to finally get rid of the illegal cargo it had previously been carrying. The young man was outfitted in a loose charcoal black NorthFace jacket, unzipped and open to reveal a blood red shirt with a black anarcho capitalism symbol decorating the front, and some practical dark leather colored cargo pants. His shoes were custom nike, yellow and gold, with the word [I]Debauchery[/I] along the heel. If there was anything about his character that painted him as a deviant, Maverick was positive it was the shoes. 

He began walking, closing in on his destination. At this point, he was just letting his instincts do the walking for him. 2:58. [I]Damn.[/I] It was getting close, and he wasn't sure exactly where he was. He stopped on a street corner staring at the signs. He was always bad with directions. The ambiance was nice though, and he took a moment to enjoy the faraway rumble of semi trucks, the mewing of a cat in heat up an alley, and the candid ringing of a donut shop door behind him... Including the stupefied yet aggressive, "Hey! Are you seriously carrying a pot plant!?" Maverick spun on his heel, which said [I]Debauchery[/I], and sights the buzzkill of two officers of the law. 
[I]This totally kills my high.[/I] They eyed his plant and his shirt, and began to approach him. So, he did what any level headed citizen would do. 
"GOONGALA!!" He chucked his duffle bag at the officers and sprinted in a different direction with his plant clutched tightly. There was no way he was parting with his baby. His erratic response to the officers would likely leave them stunned for at least a few seconds, enough to ditch them. They probably weren't even following him, just scratching their head over the crazy well dressed white kid that had just yelled something unrecognizable and chucked his belongings at them. 
He ran and he ran. At least for three minutes. 3:01 [I]FUCK! Where am I going?[/I] As soon as he began to believe he was lost, his instincts put it into clutch. [I]Oh hey.[/I] He rubbed his chin as the tennis court denizens encompassed his view. 

[b]"How... did you do that?"[/b]
 Maverick stepped onto the court and approached the alien and the admiring yet hesitant girl, slowly. He knew he was right. [I]Fuck yes. This is so cool.[/I] He giggled in his mind like a giddy school girl attending her first prom. Plus, the alien chick was kind of hot. In a scaly colorful way. Maverick physically shook his head to rid his male member of cognitive control, and began prioritizing. Sydney. He cleared his voice and began in a worried tone, "Errm hey... that's your.. ship right?" He motioned towards the ship, fully accepting the suspension of disbelief. To him, he had no time to question, no time for exposition, only for manly action on behalf of his sinsemilla, "You wouldn't happen to allow for plants right? I'm sure you might collect Earth samples or something right?" Cultured images and stories of alien abductions and the type of "samples" they collected flashed through his mind, stopping him in his approach. 

[I]What if this is a trap? To get my man juices and make genetic experiments,[/I] the thought horrified him, but slightly amused (aroused?) him, and he continued indulging, [I]Well if its done gently.... no anal.... I wouldn't mind. Alright, I'm still game![/I] 
His resolve tested and triumphant he continued, "You see, my plant here, her name is Sydney," the care in his tone exposed him, "She needs some warmth. Would there be suitable accommodations on your ship? Ma'm?" Sir? He didn't know, but the mystery of it all intrigued (aroused?) him. 
Life out in the Universe is going to be kick ass. 

And the sound of sirens somewhere could be heard.