[center][h1]A Treacherous Game[/h1] [h2]Alana and Cal[/h2][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5M2xGq0.jpeg[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/pg6Bb2R.png[/img][/center] [sub]Note: The following JP takes place around noon on Day 2[/sub] Alana was tending to a small cut on none other than herself as she had been clumsy enough to lose a war with a knife. A [i]knife[/i] out of all things, the cutlery that had a protective handle. [I]Please remember to keep knives and other sharp objects away from children[/I], she mused in her head, applying the disinfectant. Luckily for her, no one had been in the vicinity to witness her mishap. Not that she would have been subject to any sort of mockery as she had seen others engaged in in the past. This current crew was decent enough... After cleaning the wound, Alana bandaged it up and called it a day. The whole thing only took a brief moment, making the clean-up take longer than the fixing. Not that she had much to do save for getting that belly of hers to stop begging and growling for something to eat. Alana smiled at the thought of shutting it up, putting the last piece of equipment away before leaving the infirmary. Seemingly distracted by the idea of having a bite, she blindly turned a corner only to come across the captain, nearly running into him had she not stopped dead in her tracks. “Whoa, close call." Cal stopped himself just in time, his hand telegraphing to Alana’s arm to brace them both. “Close is right,” he said, taking in the dazed look on her face. “You feelin’ alright, Doc?” absently, his hand still lay on her forearm. “Say,” Strand began, “I’m headed into town; you need anything? Supplies, meds?” Realizing their close proximity, he retrieved his hand, making a show of reaching for his cigarette case. "Yes, I'm good," she nodded with a brief smile, "just patching up a cut I unwillingly gave myself." Alana watched as he went for his cigarettes, giving the question some thought while she ran a mental checklist. "Well, I don't necessarily need any one thing, but I could use some food, and maybe a drink or two... Care to join?" She began walking with him, her expression growing slightly more serious. "I'd like to talk to you about the incident that occurred yesterday, if you have the time that is." “Well, I was going to pick up a catalyzer,” he began, scratching his chin, “but a drink or two sounds like just what the doctor ordered.” Habit won out, and once the well-worn movement of fingers on silver casing started, Cal found himself with one of his last smokes in the corner of his lip. Cal thought about offering his arm but instead fell into step beside Alana, answering her serious tone with one of his own. “You did a great job patching up Abigail. She ain’t one to complain, even if she looks like hell.” She appreciated the joke, a smirk brightening her features momentarily. Looking down at the ground in front of them, Alana listened as he went on, and a half-hearted nod followed in response. "What can I say, you're right about her, you know. She's one of them brave ones and in a way I've become fond of her because of it." She glanced at him monetarily, her eyes fixed on the cigarette in his mouth. Not to say she wanted one, but she wasn't bothered by it either. It was just...there. "I've suppressed the urge to ask any of the crew for details, but Cal, why...why exactly was she shot? What went wrong down there?" A loaded question, sure, but Alana did not care for half truths at the moment, not when one of their own had gone down. At that, Captain Strand settled the internal debate on whether or not to light his cigarette. As they walked toward Pensacola proper, the light from his flip lighter caught his grave expression under the shade of his wide-brimmed hat. For a minute, perhaps, the Captain was silent as he drew on his smoke. Ahead of them on the path, thickets of buildings started to crop up around them. “What went wrong was a stowaway Fed tried to arrest a passenger--Badger’s woman, Ms. Baker. He fired a warning shot, but then wheels were in motion. Things escalated, and Abigail was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Cal thought on that for a moment, “Lucky it was just her [i]pi gu[/i], but she can scratch being shot from her bucket list.” He drew the cigarette to his lips, looking up at the shop signs which were looming into view. If he was still going to grab the catalyzer, he’d better do it before they got to drinking, just to be safe. "Those gorram Feds ain't never up to any good, always sticking their nose where it don't belong and poor Abby had to pay the price..." Her blood was practically boiling, but Alana kept her composure. She looked up to glance at the town approaching when her foot hit something like a solid rock, which was something she wasn't expecting. Alana stumbled forward, though before all hope was lost she instinctively braced herself by reaching for Cal's arm and using it to steady herself. Once all was said and done, she wasn't sure whether to burst out laughing or reprimand herself for her own stupidity. "Damn sabotage that was," she spoke up, patting Cal on the arm in appreciation. "Can't even badmouth them without paying for it." Cal’s eyes met the doctor’s, his own arm having wrapped around Alana to steady her from meeting the ground. She wore her vigor against the Purple Bellies on her sleeve--that was certain--and it was something he could get behind. Cal liked a woman who spoke her mind, but he could tell something was going on beneath that appreciative pat on his arm. “Lucky I was here, really,” he said, reaching for his cigarette now clenched between his teeth, “so all that Alliance karma doesn’t rack up another ‘unwilling’ accident.” Drawing himself up, and by association, Alana, he wove her arm in his own, “See yonder?” He pointed to a bar called ‘Peces En El Mar’ judging by the faded blue and white sign hanging above the door. “Why don’t you hold on to me, and we’ll see if we can make it.” He chucked, a glint in his eye betraying his candor. “We’ll set you down with somethin’ to eat while I run a quick errand. Then I’ll join you. How’s that?” Cal glanced at those eyes beneath those bold brows of hers for confirmation. She became a little warm from embarrassment, her cheeks reddening in the afterthought. Silently scolding herself, Alana nonetheless smiled up at Cal in response to his statement. "What would we ever do without you?" Part ego-stroking, part sarcasm. She let herself be escorted towards the locale he had mentioned. Walking in step adjacent to Cal, her gaze diverted to the former which held minimum visibility in the distance. "Fish in the Sea," she added, thanks in part to her limited knowledge. "Alright, I'll bite." Though not personally a top pick she would have made, Alana was hungry enough to eat a horse, and so her fastidious nature usually present at the dinner table would be absent that day. "I sure hope they have a pool table because I'm feeling competitive...if you're up for a wager that is. If not, it's good all the same," she smirked with a slight jab of her elbow. "I'll be mindful of any apprehension." “You’re on, Doc. Just so’s you know, I won’t pull any punches--even on account of your balance, or lack thereof.” Cal flashed a debonair smile as he opened the door wide for Alana. “I’ll be along; why don’t you go ahead and warm up?” "So honest but so refined," she smiled, also thanking him in the process. "We'll soon find out whether you're a worthy competitor," she added, waving at him before losing herself in the small crowd engaged in some personal festivity. Alana walked past them, spotting an empty table out back. Perfect. With that, Cal bid the doctor adieu and headed toward “Maurice’s Shipworks” just up the street which had the China Doll’s catalyzer on hold for payment on pickup. As he walked in the warming sun he considered the situation in which he found himself. A beautiful woman had fallen all over him it seemed, and twice in one day as fate would have it. Now he didn’t doubt his skill at the game, but it was different when he wasn’t even playing. “[i]Ta Ma Duh[/i],(Damnit)” he said under his breath, an idea dawning on him. If he weren’t trying to play the game then it stood to reason that the game being played might be him. Way he saw it there were two options. Option one, Doc was a might lonely, looking for a friend, perhaps more. Option two, Alana was laying the foundation for something, perhaps more self-serving. That thought soured his smirk as he entered “Maurice’s” with a quick rap on the door. [i]"Well how's about that?"[/i] Alana turned her head to the side to see who was addressing her. [i]"Someone with her head in the game makes a presence but she was seen off by her husband,"[/i] the man then glances down at her hand, [i]"or should I say, boyfriend?"[/i] he added with an inquisitive shrug. "Oh, um, no that was—we work together." Ideas crept in her mind. Her and Cal? Sure, she was naturally drawn to him and his personality, despite not knowing him all that long, but would it even get past their playful banter? Given their positions, she couldn't guess how he'd react. "He's coming back, sorry." The man raised his glass in response before downing the rest of his drink. [i]"All's good, I ain't the type to get in between two lovers."[/i] And with that he was off to rejoin the group by the front. Alana shook her head slightly, amused by the exchange. She leaned on the bartop once more to finally put in for a fish fry basket for her and Cal and a drink. Now that business had been conducted, Captain Strand was free to conduct less businessly business. Catalyzer nestled in his satchel, Cal pushed open the doors to the ‘Peces En El Mar,’ and the smell of food and liquor hit him just right. Peering into the darker interior, he removed his hat, looking to spot Alana. Getting some credits ready to play the first round, Alana noticed Cal had made his way back. She called out to him, waving him over to the corner she was at. She’d found a table after all--that made Cal smile. It’d been a few stops since he’d played pool, but to his eyes, even in a fisher town like Pensacola, the green felt of the table looked mighty inviting. “You ready to put your money where your mouth is, Doc?” he asked, setting down his cargo. Strand had settled in next to Alana as they waited for the table to open up. Placing his hat on the table, he added, “So, you mentioned a wager; what are you putting up?” Cal’s inquisitive tone matched his arched brow as he glanced into those blue eyes of hers. She met his gaze in silence for a moment as she considered some options, and it was when she smiled that she finally had a response for him. "Alright, I have a couple of ideas..." She leaned in closer as to not project her voice so much. "We could make it so the loser has to give the winner a 10-minute backrub, you know, melt away any stress lingering around from the job. Either that, or we keep up with tradition and the loser has to buy the rounds." She paused for a moment to gauge his reaction, leaning back against the chair. "So, what do you say?" Alana wasn't sure which route he'd take, but at least she had afforded him the option to pick for himself, though she obviously favored the first choice because taking the loss wouldn't be all that unwelcomed. “I say: if’n you wanted to give me a backrub, you coulda saved your quarters,” with that he picked up the closest cue and chalk, “Bein’ captain’s a hard gig,” he watched for a roll of her eyes. “I mean, there’s a ship what needs tending, crew needs orders, jobs need linein’ up,” as the table in front of them cleared, he laid the cue down, rolling it across the felt. “It’s not like bein’ a doctor; kickin’ up your heels, pullin’ bullets out of [i]pi gus[/i] all day.” Cal swapped his cue with another one in the rack, hefting it aloft. “You wanna rack?” Arching an eyebrow, arms crossed in front of her, Alana listened to him go on about himself. "Well, you can certainly do a whole lotta talking, but that must come naturally given your job primarily consists of a bunch of delegating and not much else," she chimed in, reaching for her drink to take a sip. "But as much as I would [i]love[/i] to continue this conversation," she smiled, her voice oozing with sarcasm, "I'm eager to find out whether you're as skilled with your hands as you are running your mouth." Alana then selected a stick for herself, chalking it up as she walked past Cal to ready up for the break shot. "It's time to humble you down some." Setting up took her a few moments, and it wasn't long before it was all in place. Concentrating on power and not so much aim, she took deep breath in and leaned forward, eye on the cue for a second or two before proceeding to take the shot. Alana immediately stood straight to witness the action and watched as a solid disappeared in the upper right corner while the others spread out. "Don't you worry none, I promise you'll get your turn," she announced without looking at Cal. As luck would have it, Alana missed the next shot given she'd underestimated the angle. She shook her head in disappointment and faced Cal with a shrug. "Guess I'm just feeling generous today." Cal smiled into his beer as he appreciated the doctor’s form stretched out across the table. As the cue ball cracked, his attention dropped to the pockets as she sunk one on the first shot. Her cool assertion that he’d ‘get his turn’ warranted a muffled chuckle from Strand as he chalked his cue. When she shrugged in his direction, he replied, “Mighty kind of you.” Lining up, he focused his attention on a precarious “10” which required him to lean with the cue wrapped around his back, left-handed. He grew silent as he visualized the shot, then, exhaling, he let go and the “10” rolled into the opposite bank pocket. “Don’t you worry none,” he parroted, “anyone ever tell you, you get this dimple when you concentrate. It’s endearin’. They got a clinical name for that, Doc?” Captain Strand arched two fingers on the felt anchoring his stick for the next angle. Closing one eye, he exhaled for a long shot this time, his English just short of pocketing the “15.” Straightening, Cal waved Alana in, cupping his hands over the hand chalk before reaching for his beer. The "miracle shot" impressed Alana, and she took another sip of her drink. She had managed to pull off that same move a couple of times in the past, though just once with her weak hand. At the bare minimum, Cal was going to be a challenge, which she certainly welcomed. "Why yes, I believe that's what we refer to as infatuation." Alana then watched him miss the tiebreaker shot that would have put him in the lead. No doubt at that point it was anyone's game. She looked over the spread for a brief moment and found her next move, which looked easy enough, then made her way over to Cal. The man towered over her, especially when she leaned against the side of the table using her wrist as her drink occupied her hand, while the other one remained wrapped around the cue stick. "And you know what they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," she added, looking up to meet his gaze. Cal met her gaze, leaning in, “You got it all figured out, huh?” His half-lidded eyes winked into hers. “So tell me, why’d you really sign up on my boat? And I’m not buying the nomad-medic angle.” There was that scent of coconut again, some mingling smell in her hair or her clothes. It cut through his own aroma of tobacco like a knife. Her lips pursed for a moment before she broke into a smile, shying away from his stare. "What's a girl gotta do to earn a little bit of trust around here, huh? Alls I was wanting was some room and board and decent coin for a job well done." Alana's voice remained low as she met his eyes once more. "Was it coincidental that the captain in charge just happened to be handsome?" she half-shrugged the question before nodding slightly, "Absolutely. You don't gotta worry about me Cal," Alana placed her drink down behind her and reached up to straighten out his collar as she went, "I'm not trying to seduce you for some sinister reason." “Ah, but you [i]are[/i] trying to seduce me,” Cal said, a smirk curling his lip. The doctor was doing a mighty fine job at that. Captain Strand could feel his blood quicken as her fingertips brushed the back of his neck. “Glad that’s out in the air; it’ll make winning this round all the more fun.” He arched a brow at that, a glint in his eye, along with a subtle nod toward the table indicating it was Alana’s turn next. Cal did in fact went ahead to win that game, however, Alana beat him in the next two back to back. In between turns, the pair enjoyed their food and drinks, the same level of energy carrying through the rounds. They would occasionally tease each other when the other missed, and the same when Alana sank the 8 ball in the third game. She downed the rest of her drink and walked over to Cal with a smug smile. “So, it seems I’ve bested you again to finally be crowned victorious. You put up a good fight, but unfortunately not good enough.” Alana placed the cue stick to rest on the underside, grabbing his in the process as well. "What do you say I pick up the tab? I think I’ve already tormented you enough... Besides, you know we’re [I]both[/i] looking forward to that back rub.” Cal had his hands raised in defeat, “Can’t fault a man for tryin’ to retain some semblance of dignity. I got the tab: least I can do ‘til it’s time to pay the piper.” Doc wasn’t wrong, any way this one went the price would be sweet. The medic had proved to be a fierce opponent, but he’d be ready for her next time. And there would certainly be a next time. Heading to the bar, he signaled the barkeep with a wave. After settling their tab, Captain Strand rejoined his medic at their table. “Would be surprised if Rex hasn’t marooned us here by this point,” he stooped to retrieve the catalyzer in his satchel. “Shall we?” "We shall," she smiled up at the captain, thinking none of it when her arm snaked around his given her inhibitions and the ability to maintain her balance had been lowered some. That, and she would be foolish to deny the level of attraction between the two. As if the situation wasn't complicated enough... Cal and Alana then left [i]Peces En El Mar[/i] and headed back towards the Doll, laughing and talking about any random topic as they went. A while later, as the pair neared the ship, Alana broke her hold on him. She still had some wits about her and she thought it best to avoid being the center of any form of questioning. That, and she also owed it to the captain to afford him such level of respect. Who knew where his head was regarding their spontaneous outing, and the last thing she would ever want to do was force his hand in the matter. The two walked adjacent to each other all the way til they reached the entrance to her quarters. "Well, Cal, this has been surprisingly pleasant. I'm not sure what 'captain-ly' duties you have going on right around this time, but if you can't pay up now, then later will work all the same." She smiled at him, waiting for a response. The doctor sure had a way about her, from that smile to those eyes. His jaw unclenched with herculean force as he dipped his hat toward Alana, “Powerfully sorry to say, but I’m gonna have to offer an ‘I-owe-you’ for now,” he glanced down into that forming pout, “no rest for the wicked, and all.” At that he couldn’t keep a straight face, “I need to get this part down below, elsewise we’ll miss our big debut,” he lifted the satchel at his side. “How about we reconvene once we make it to the black?” His brow arched as he took a short step toward the engine bay. Over his shoulder he added, “Hope you have some warmer clothes, ‘cuz it’s gonna get a might nippy.” Wait no, he really didn’t. His imagination ran rampant as he headed off in the direction of the engine bay, cold steel of the catalyzer in hand.