[h2]Home Sweet Shuttle Part 1[/h2]
[h3]New Melbourne, Day 2, Early Afternoon[/h3]

OOC: JP between [@Winters], [@MK Blitzen], [@Yule], [@wanderingwolf]

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[row][cell][/cell][cell][center][url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5276915][img] https://i.imgur.com/pg6Bb2R.png [/img][/url][/center][/cell][cell][/cell][/row]
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[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dneG0Ho32qU[/youtube]
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Cyd shifted the small lollipop from one side of her mouth to the other as the trio waited by the China Doll, business on the brain. The beach was kind enough to provide showers so the trio could wash off the surf and sand from the night before. She reluctantly returned the hula skirt and wore Isaac’s paisley button-up tied at the waist over a pair of dark shorts.  The kupe'e lei stayed on her ankle, she saved the second one, maybe Abby or the pilot or Hook would fancy it. 

She still wasn’t sure what to make of the Captain - the man who remained rather elusive to date. He was quick with small talk, but then again, so were they, and the debacle in the cargo hold was no place to play chitty chitty chat chat. Now though, they had babki, something to offer, and from the digging she managed, full-fare might be appreciated. 

Boots on the ramp of the China Doll, Cal breathed in the warming, moist air of Pensacola. The cries of oceanic birds circling schools of fish in the distance gave the impression that they were on a vacation, but Captain Strand knew better. Not a day went by that this old Firefly didn’t need some part or other, and it was for one of those parts that Cal departed now, at the former Ms. Baker’s behest. Before his heel touched earth, Cal saw the passengers he recognized to be the Skyes, thanks to Hook’s memory last night. With a tip of his hat, Cal intoned a begrudging greeting, still being a little sore, to Pipe, Ball-Bearings, and Blue--the mastermind of their latest accommodation arrangement, way Abigail told it.

"Is it too late to change our mind?" Mathias whispered to his sister as the mysterious Captain approached. There was a moment of silence. He looked to Cyd and shrugged. Normally there would be a 'How can I help you?' or 'hey you back are you looking to book another room?'. It made more sense now why he delegated the task. 

“Captain Strand,” Cyd said with a smile, ignoring her [i]older [/i] brother’s apprehension. “We were hoping we could have a moment?” 

"Or two if you can spare it," Mathias added jamming his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't fidget.

Tipping his hat back on his head, Cal slowed as he approached the three. “I hear we’re takin’ another leg together,” he began, eyes bouncing between the three. “What can I do for you?” Instinctively, his hand laid hold of the silver clasp containing his dwindling supply of cigarettes. With a flip, a slender, hand-rolled met the corner of his mouth as he laid eyes on Cyd.

“Oweh,” Cyd said, nodding in agreement. “A few, actually, if you’d have us. My gesin and I,” she pointed between her brothers and herself, “are thinking a bit more long term. We don’t so much have an itinerary, so we’re not picky about destinations.” 

Cal’s eyes widened, mouth occupied with a cigarette mid-light. Hand raised to catch a spell of coughing, he replied, “Sorry, just caught me off guard, you three wanting to stick around after the way things went… you know.”

"You mean when the Fed got his head blown off." Mathias said bluntly. 

“That’s right, and way I saw it, you did a real number on him with that pipe.” Cal shook his head in appreciation. “Doc coulda been diggin’ bullets outta more than Abigail’s [i]pi gu[/i] if it weren’t for you.” 

“It was a little bosbefok,” Cyd agreed, changing the subject back to business. “Well, more than a little bosbefok. But the verse sometimes goes sideways, after a while, you learn to slide off the rails yourself. Besides, I owe your cook a debt of thanks.” 

“You said it, sister,” he said, having no idea what ‘bosbefok meant. “See, I said the same thing, well--” He made an iffy gesture with his hand while he pulled on his smoke, “--more or less, to the pilot. ‘Verse is a dangerous place.” Captain Strand surveyed Cyd, Mathias, and Isaac as if he were making his mind up about something. “Glad we understand each other.”

“It’s a fact like a cow,” Cyd agreed, steeling herself for the question at hand. “We were hoping you were open to negotiating a shuttle for rent? It would give us a little more room, get us out of your hair, and the boys and I work odd jobs. We can’t always get so lucky as to have them be near port, ja nee?” 

Cal stroked his chin, cigarette nestled between fore and middle finger. “You weren’t kiddin’; how long-term we talkin’? Couple jumps? More?”
.
“Till we find something better or port of call pulls somewhere else.” Mathias chimed. 

“More than a couple of jumps,” Cyd said at the same time as her brother. “I got a good feeling about the China Doll.” 

“Uh-huh,” the captain followed along, “and these odd jobs,” his head tilted as he said the word ‘jobs’, “what do you three do?”

“This, that, what comes up.  Just yesterday we worked Ian Vanderhull’s jol… er… party,” Cyd offered. “Lekker tips from rich folk. Slinging drinks, waiting tables--”

“... And more coupons for free fish sticks then you can shake a chicken at … We get a kakspul of free stuff from those types of events.” Mathias explained.

“There’s a few sites post for temp jobs on the cortex,” Cyd continued, “We can always make bank, then for fun an’ extra creds, we’re buskers. Entertainers. Mathias here is probably the best street magician you’ll ever meet and Issac drums. Should’ve heard him last night with the steelpan,” she said proudly. “Great tips. I dance. Work crowds. So you can see where transportation would come in handy.” 

“Opens options up for better gigs at popular locations. Means more, easier money.” Mathias said, spelling out the logic.

“Ah,” Cal said, fighting a smile, “to be young and flush with coupons for fish sticks. Tell you what, just so happens the shuttle is for rent, but we don’t take coupons and fare ain’t the same as three bunks at half.” Strand took his last puff from the stub of his cigarette and dropped it to the soil, “If you’ve got it, I’m open to negotiatin’, but I’ve got some ground rules.” He’d never heard a tale so full of color--in fact it reminded him of a younger Cal who’d taken on the core planets all those years ago. If he hadn’t signed that indenture, and if he had any talent to speak of, maybe he’d have roamed from planet to planet on nothing but the wind sowing oats all across the verse. But he wouldn’t have that fancy accent.

“Lekker,” Cyd nodded in agreement, a smile crossing her lips. “We’ve got the funds to pay full up, but what sort of ground rules?”