______________________________________________________________________ [b]Episode Two:[/b] Mass Rave ______________________________________________________________________ [i]“Tipbuktu!”[/i] Was that even a word? Thus began Yeva’s wary squinting. Sure she listened to Gray, sort of, but her mind was already running the charts and diagrams on this situation: All results indicated “not good.” From what the old man had described, a “Rave” sounded like something that was going to be full of sweaty people, too much drum and or bass, and something she would need to get drunk to even tolerate. Look, Yeva had convinced herself that she wasn’t an alcoholic. She liked to think of herself as something of a “social drinker” which, loosely translated from Bullshitese, meant that she was a binge drinker. Ah yes, there were the glasses of wine while cooking and the occasional beer but, for the most part, Yeva didn’t drink enough to form a tolerance. When she went out drinking it was with a group and it was to near blackout, followed by months of sobriety, simply because she didn’t go out much. Aside from the Hunter’s Lodge on Callisto, Yeva couldn’t find a bar she liked enough that wasn’t filled with people looking to fight or people that were just too [i]energetic[/i]. And now Gray wanted them to go to a bloody [i]Rave[/i]. As the video of the tattooed fellow began playing on the Gray-face-screen, Yeva squinted up at Poole. While she definitely knew she would feel out of place in a Rave, Poole most certainly would too, no doubt. Maybe he would tell Gray no? Or maybe the pull of bounty money was too much-- if this Beeftips fellow had a high price on his head then Yeva assumed that Poole would likely check the box for “discomfort be damned” and go after him. This made Yeva feel something very close to irritated but she mistook it for hunger. Beeftips actually sounded like a savory meal-- oddly implied but not actually implied cannibalism aside... Unconsciously her eyes drifted toward the exit, inadvertently sounding the silent alarm that clearly broadcasted, 'Yeva’s Trying To Ditch You Again'-- well, if Poole and Gray were familiar enough with the behavior, that is. Indeed, Yeva knew she had a number of viable reasons as to how she could avoid going to this: They could handle this while she went to fetch a few spices and ingredients for cooking-- surely they didn’t need her, right? Or she could just walk out the door and drift into crowd-- claim separation and getting lost in the labyrinthine tunnels of Venus, which was a pretty solid excuse. But then, echoing from deep within her soul, came the voice of her Aunt Helia, rough from shouting, scolding Yeva-- [i]“A Calicat never leaves it’s young, even if they’re crippled or staring death in the teeth...”[/i] But Yeva’d be damned if she hadn’t witnessed Aunt Helia leaving a box of kittens in front of the Veterinarian’s office. Was Yeva going to perpetuate the box of kittens abandonment? Were metaphorical kittens just as important as real kittens? The people that raise you shape you, don’t they?! Why were her inner questions suddenly screaming?! [i]“Forget the Ginseng, let’s get some Beeftip!”[/i] “Bollocks,” Yeva muttered, raising a hand to rub at her temple. Whoever it was that bought all the stupid Ginseng was the one that needed hunting, honestly. Who in the mountain of Megabear shit needed to purchase an entire planet’s worth of Ginseng? Again, Yeva felt something close to irritation but, she determined it was probably days of her life-span being scrubbed off by the sudden stress she felt-- an oddly liberating feeling that was kind of like taking a pee from. The... uh… soul. Sure, that sounded quite right. “Ginseng,” Yeva hissed, completely at odds with whatever anyone was saying-- Yeva was so deep into her own thoughts that she felt herself thinking while she was thinking. Her fist clenched, holding tight this forming grudge, and pressing it into a diamond of quiet rage. Said diamond of quiet rage would fetch a pretty decent price, even if diamonds could be mined from asteroids. This was a large metaphorical object that Yeva added to every now and then with every event that forced her into her own little world. Inward debate about wither or not said own little world qualified as a meditative state often raged within, coming to no conclusion whatsoever each time. Then, like the completely zoned out person she was, reality would come trudging back to her like a drunk person to a breakfast pub at three in the morning. “… what?” Yeva mumbled, “Huh?” As she looked up at Poole, the crowd slowly began to fade into existence. Yeva’s eyes went wide as she shifted focus onto the moving people nearby. The Ginseng shop was apparently a long time gone at this point. Part of Yeva had no idea when and how they had got here but, she knew they had to have walked of course, and that she was possibly responsible for guiding them to this area. A voice in the back of Yeva’s head reminded her that there was probably a name for occurrences [i]like this[/i] that some doctor somewhere probably knew. At least nothing of note had happened on the way over here, right? Hold on-- where was here, even? “I [i]said...[/i]” Poole began gruffly, having apparently been talking to her-- but Yeva found herself missing his words yet again. Before them was a tall set of metal doors that stretched from ceiling to floor, a set of numerals flashing at the top, and a large peeling painted Q on the wall next… to… [b]wait--[/b] “Blimey, it’s a lift,” Yeva mumbled in confusion. The glare of light off of something reflective caught her attention. Yeva looked over and found that Gray was maybe staring at her like she had two heads-- Yeva couldn’t tell honestly, so she assumed he was always giving her a weird look anyway, assuming he had eyes to look with, of course. And… a face. A body. [i]Something.[/i] Part of Yeva wanted to ask him about his anatomy just then but, the greater part of her was distracted by the soft boop coming from the elevator before them. Was the tone really necessary anymore, given the fact they could hear the scraping and grinding of the elevator’s approach? Lost, Yeva asked the three, “Where we headed again?” When they stepped into the crowded elevator, Yeva's fist clenched... again. Next she knew the doors were opening. [hider=Summary] Yeva immediately hates whoever bought all the Ginseng, doesn't want to go to a rave, and experiences a dissociative episode after being forced to go to said rave. The trio navigates to an elevator that goes exclusively to level Q. Yeva ignores everything Poole is saying and is also suspicious of Gray's facial expressions. [/hider]