[h2][i]dǒng ma[/i][/h2]
JP between [@wanderingwolf] & [@Aalakrys]

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“Fixin’ for some time in the sun, Freckles?” Cal called after the flowery pilot. He rose from the deck after loosing a crate from its constraints. With Abby down for who knew how long, the Captain had to get off his high horse and pick up the slack. With a lift of his hat, Strand coiled the cord around his elbow and thumb before approaching the woman. 

The normal smile permanently stitched to the woman’s face was missing, replaced by a pensive expression. If he didn’t know any better he would have guessed she’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed, but he did; and it didn’t take no art of deduction to read what’d soured the pilot. The blood from the Fed and Abigail was wiped clean, but where they laid on the deck shined brighter than the rest. He could only imagine what she might be feeling about it, but that would require asking which would require talking about it and the less they talked about it the better it felt in his estimation.

Still, there seemed a spectral weight on the woman’s bare shoulders, so the Captain asked of his pilot, “How you holdin’ up?” eyes rising from the ground to glance at hers.

Hazel eyes lifted from the spot the captain’s had gone to just in time to meet his searching ones, leaving her assuming that spot was where [i]it[/i] had happened. This was the first time Penelope’d ever been part of a murder, and likely that was what had her head in a bog. The question the captain asked hit the nail on the head. Her response wasn’t one she’d readied, but it’d come just as everything else did to her - fluidly, though her accented way of speaking had dropped as it had when first meeting Rex. “No amount of sunshine’ll make right being kept in the dark on this one, Cal. A man’s dead, and Abby could’ve been too, while I was flying the ship it happened on.”

The usual cheer in the her tone was absent, obviously, but she held his gaze as she’d spoken. There wasn’t accusation, or irritability. Perhaps a little bit of disappointment and sadness at the thought of people being hurt. She didn’t care about Alliance folk, not for all they’d done to her planet, but she didn’t like the idea of surprise gunfights that resulted in someone like Abby getting caught in the crossfire. Maybe if they’d known of the possibility, the danger, someone could’ve been on standby to protect her. It was a recurring thought in the reel that she kept waving away until she had sand under her feet, but here was the captain pressing play for her thoughts.

He watched her through steel eyes as she laid out what was on her mind. It wasn’t his first Fed, nor was it his first bullet-injured deckhand, but he could tell she felt a shadow of responsibility, “The verse can be a dangerous place, even for those just lookin’ to mind their own business. Reckon we saw first hand just how perilous.” Cal sighed, “You heard Sam clear as I did; we didn’t know who the Fed was, let alone whether it was a Fed what sent the wave. Weren’t no way of knowing how this’d turn out.” 

Captain Strand set down the cord on a nearby crate and fished for his silver cigarette case. With a flip, the slender white, cylinder was lit, and Cal turned back to Penelope. “You were flyin’, sure, but that’s like expectin’ the finch to know where every hawk is on the horizon. All the finch can do is worry about the here and now, and let nature run its course.” Strand drew on his cigarette, careful to release plums of smoke away from Penelope.

Appreciative as she was of the smoke not being sent her way, Penelope sighed out a bit of her concern with a glance away, but her gloved palms felt the press of her bare fingers as her hands tightened around the straps at her shoulders. She looked back to him, not able to let one little piece go. It was important - morals and all. So, with her brow set and her eyes locked on him, she continued the anology. “This particular finch ain’t so worried about the danger of a hawk, but more so who she’s flyin’ with and where they’re takin’ the group. Ya ain’t one keen on sharin’ details.”

“It was a gamble to hope a backwoods forester like me wouldn’t drive the ship into a star to save our souls from heresy when Sam came online.” Her eyes glinted a bit as she gave example, amusement returning to her despite herself, relaxing her grip a bit as she gave a little shrug. “All I’m tryin’ to say is... when it comes to a job, I’d like to know I’m on one ‘fore I’m in the middle of it.”

“It’s all part of the job, and we’re simple folk. People pay for what needs ferryin’ off world and we oblige. Everyone gets their cut; pilot included.” Cal took a drag, watching Penelope, “Sometimes the Captain don’t know all the details, righteous foresters included, and sometimes it’s safer if it’s only him what knows them.” Strand leaned against the crate, scratching the back of his neck. Lowering his voice he went on, “You mighta heard the Fed threaten to shoot a passenger, and you mighta heard the same Fed say he was goin’ to take us all in. On top o’ that, you definitely heard the bullets start flyin’ when he shot Abigail.” He shook his head, “Anyone who comes for my crew gets what’s comin’ to them. Simple as that.”

"Tha's more than shiny," Penelope said after a brief moment of considering his words. She honestly didn't have a problem with those stipulations as they were, but… "S'long as I get a straight answer on if we are on a job, details not always necessary, suppose it'll stay that way."

She said the last bit in her usual breezy tone, giving a little nod with her head as she winked and added: "Cap'n." by way of a departing gesture. Though, before heading off to enjoy some turbulent winds on the beach, she did wait to see if he did the same in turn to show she wasn't tryin' to push weight. 

Cal smiled at that, “S’long as you’re signed up, consider yourself ‘on the job,’ and paid to boot. How’s that for straight?” Seeing as Penelope looked to be on her way, Cal added, “Pilot,” with a wink back, and picked up the coiled cord again.

That pondering expression crossed the young woman’s features again as she lightly tapped the toe of a sandal against the metal grate she’d stood over. “Near-abouts anyone can fly the Doll, Cal. Ya know the difference of what I was meanin’.”

Again, it wasn’t a question, though her smile did return - albeit small. “Or this little finch gots more thinkin’ to do on that beach than she figured.”

“Whether I know the difference or not, Freckles, you and the whole gang will know when we get our next job.” He paused, maybe catching her meaning. Cal hired Penelope to fly to New Melbourne without telling her about the cargo they carried; hell, he’d [i]tried[/i] to introduce her to Sam, but, well anyhow, she seemed to get on with it just fine. Now the argument could be made as to whether the pilot ought to be troubled with nought else but the sky, but Penelope had a head on her shoulders--a good one, too. Nodding, he affirmed his promise. There were plenty of pilots in the verse, but something told him he, Penelope, and the China Doll could strike an accord. 

With that, Cal looked toward the stairs to follow Ms. Baker’s advice and squirrel Sam into a safer hole than in plain sight on the console. [i]The avionics bay ought to do fine[/i], he thought. Tipping his hat, Captain Strand added, “Enjoy the shore.”

"You know what they say after a storm like that passes?" The light of her smile returned to her eyes with the call back over her shoulder as she made way down the ramp. Lacking the gusto due to her natural disposition didn't curb the pirate flare in her spoken words delivered with a wink. "Thar be treasure."

Feeling all the ease in her breezy stride as anticipation of sand under her toes and wind in her hair, Penelope the pilot turned treasure-hunting, wild-wind seeking pirate when in the presence of the big blue. And she was off on another sort of adventure. But, with a departing glance up at the China Doll, her little smile wasn't a final one after all. She had plans set by a ship's departure. Though she loved the sea and her wind, there was reason the gal was a pilot rather than sailor - she was born to fly. And it seemed like she found a home doing just that after all.