“So there I am, sitting in my patrol car, when my partner radios in ‘I think I just saw a cardboard box move.’ And I tell him to stop screwing around and look for the perp.” Lynnette said with a wide smile on her face, one that was almost mirrored by the large freighter pilot she was chatting with. “And next thing I see is a cardboard box run out of the alleyway with my partner in close pursuit!” The pilot chuckled before taking a sip of beer. When Lynnette had first approached the man she had struggled to elicit any response from him whatsoever. After a few minutes, whether because of her charm, her being a woman, or simply because he wanted someone to speak to the pilot had quickly warmed up to her. She had been hoping that he might have heard rumor of pirates or something else that could lead to the crew’s next job, but no such luck. After their last screw up they could use a straightforward job.

“Well…” She said as she rose to her feet, putting the pilot on the back, “I better return to my friends.”

“Yea. Catch you around.” The pilot raised his beer in salute.

She gave the man a second pat before turning back to her crewmates, her smile becoming slightly strained. Despite her jovial appearance, she felt especially bad about the botched job. She had made a career of catching criminals and bringing them in alive and had been damned good at it. If anyone was at fault, it was her. She knew that it was truly impossible to completely guard against a detainee committing suicide, but it was very easy to make it much harder to do. She hadn’t even stood guard, instead allowing Quayhoggr to stare at the man like some sort of creep. If anything it was [i]that[/i] which caused their prisoner to commit suicide.

“Why don’t you put a shot or two of vodka in that milk?” She suggested when the man occupying her thoughts ordered a drink for himself and Jeremiah. “I’ll even pay.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. In all honestly she just wanted to see what the man was like with a little alcohol in his system. She settled into the seat next to Jeremiah, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

“Maybe you should make this your last glass, eh?” She asked the engineer. He seemed a bit… off. She decided not to think about it with a mental shrug. It was probably just the sum of his drinks and the group’s screw up eating away at him. “I’d love it if you were cognizant enough to play some poker later so I can take your money.”