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[h3]Smokes and Sunscreen[/h3]
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JP featuring Penelope and Cal between [@Aalakrys] & [@wanderingwolf]

No sooner had Captain Strand nodded his goodbyes to the deckhands than he caught the eye of his pilot on the bay catwalk. He paused a moment, considering, then with a jerk of his chin he summoned her down from her view on-high. 

As Penelope had been taking in the goings on, mostly lost in her own thoughts as she enjoyed the warmth wafting in over the smell of sea and brine, she caught sight of her captain’s beckoning gesture. It was obvious he was indicating her as no one else was lingering along the railing, so she stood to descend the stairs. Once she was close enough, the usual easy-going expression leaving her more relaxed than she felt in truth, she ribbed him in her way. “If you’re thinkin’ Sam and me’ll be plottin’ in your absence, don’t worry - your toes are plenty safe from the frost on Greenleaf. Might want ta check your boots for other things ‘fore you go puttin' ‘em on though if ya fancy goin’ barefoot outside the ship.”

Cal’s expression was serious as he let a simple smile reach his lips, “Walk with me.” As the pair fell in step together, Strand thought on what lay ahead for them tomorrow evening at Hafez Nadal’s party. For Penelope, a reunion of sorts, for Cal a chance to pay the piper. Having never heard of Hafez in his travels, Cal felt left in the lurch. He wouldn’t go so far as to say the devil you know is better than the one you don’t, but he’d be damned if he didn’t do his homework. 

A minute of walking saw a pandemonium of parrots pass overhead, looking for perch on the buildings and queen palm trees that towered above them. The birds’ constant chatter was both interrupting and engaging, and Cal’s eyes watched the flock move for a moment before he simply stated the object of his concern, “Hafez Nadal.”

Penelope had taken in her captain’s expression and posture as he walked, so she had been expecting the break here soon. It came as she watched the parrots squawk, fluffing out their plumage as they took purchase wherever they like, and begun grooming their feathers. She’d been all over since her last stop here, but nothing was like home. Though she hadn’t planned to leave the ship anytime soon, the captain’s need to hash things out had her stepping after, and she was glad for it - even if that meant they were going to have another one of those talks. “Feels like I’m always on this side of that tone, Cap’n.”

She’d stretched as she’d spoken, Penelope none to worry much about the present. But, she didn’t hold out on him and what he was after. When her arms fell back down to her sides and she’d gotten a deep breath of what she could over the landing docks, she turned her gaze to him. “Sam had the right of it. Hafez is the face of an enterprise, with hands to do his work.”

He chewed on that a moment, his hands buried in his pockets as they continued their path into the throng of buildings and businesses in the style of Greenleaf’s iconic and money-funneled architecture thanks to big pharma on the planet. “Uh huh, but what about your history? Which hand did you play, once upon a time in Greenleaf?” Strand’s tone was inquisitive as he gauged her response. If she knew anything about the sort of work Hafez got up to, or any clue as to what job might be awaiting them at the end of the festivities tomorrow, Cal had a mind to know the measure of the man. 

The street opened up to main thoroughfare now, and they fell into sparse crowds gandering after wares or bustling from one shop to another. People of working class stood out by their clothes, and the pair of them were just different enough to stick out—save for Penelope’s gate, of which Cal took notice, she seemed like a fish in water. They walked past a bazaar off the central path, and several beggars turned chin to the pair, palms open. Cal fished for some creds from Dupree’s pouch and stuck one in each palm, before turning back to his companion and the road they traveled. 

Penelope had been given all the time she needed to think, and as she watched the captain passing over coin with a gentle smile on her lips, she found herself grateful he was her captain. Not only was he a decent sort, even when he tried not to be, but he understood her in a way few did. So, when he turned his attention back on her, ready for her answer, she was ready to give it. “Remember when I said I’d been on jobs without knowin’ it before and I ain’t keen to fall back into the dark? My captain back then was one of them hands, turned out, so I only knew our host in passin’. Cap’n had left the RFID with the bodies, so he was the one that found Jun an’ me in the forest when another hand came lookin’ for his haul. I was his guest for some time ‘fore he put me in touch with O’Malley; couldn’t live all cooped up on an estate so close to my home. Needed soil an’ sky more than anythin’ else could be offered, anyhow.”

There was more to the story, but she wasn’t one to go into details unnecessarily - at the base of it, that was the truth. And being back on her world gave her clarity for what her captain was really after. “From what I did see while I was his guest… he is like the lianas of the rainforest, Cal. It was wrong of me ta compare him ta a spider, when he operates more like the wooden vines that wind their way through an entire section of trees to reach the canopy. They control everything in the section of the forest they occupy, and yet the forest an’ its wildlife become dependent upon it. And, only a few would know when it’s toxic or life-savin’.”

The comparison had been told in her slow speech, the sadness fading as she visualized what she was saying as the words left her lips. The Barefoot people revered the lianas, and it was evident in her tone that she did as well. 

Toxic or life-saving. That boded all sorts of complicated, and the way his pilot spoke, he couldn’t suss if it was the man himself who had earned that respect, or if it was the metaphor from which she drew to paint a picture of him. Cal rubbed his chin in thought. Nadal was a player, that much was for certain, and he commanded the respect of Penelope. For him, and for now, that would be enough. Penelope had done a daring thing in both telling her tale and in bringing him Hafez in their hour of need. He set his jaw, deciding the ‘Verse was telling him it would all be alright. They’d just been paid for a job and set down on a beautiful locale. He glanced sideways at his pilot, today had enough to worry about on it’s own. Tomorrow could worry about itself.

“He took you in when you needed it. Makes sense that he’d be the one you call. And, Penelope,” he paused to furrow his brow earnestly, “I appreciate that you did. Saved us big on this job, and that ain’t something a lot of people would do. So…” Captain Strand offered his hand for her to shake, “Thank you.”

Now Penelope’s bright smile shown through as she gave a little tilt of her head and took his offered hand. As her slender fingers encased what they could on his hand, she shared her soft delight. “Well now, Cap’n, don’t know if I ever earned a handshake before. Glad to be of service.”

“Now, I need a cigarette ‘fore I do any further dealin’ or it’s guaranteed to go sideways, mark my words.” A bodega sat nestled on the corner, and neon lights flashing on the eaves advertised Cal’s favorite brand of cigarette, ‘Letrot.’ Letrot was made of the absolute chaff in synthetic cigarettes, but was widely favored among grifters and drifters across the ‘Verse due to its availability. In fact, the only places Strand found that didn’t stock his tar of choice were Londinium and Osiris, a matter which caused him no love lost when he considered what sort of people lived there and where he’d rather be. The Captain tipped his hat to Penelope before approaching the proprietor with a nod.

As her captain walked away to get stocked up on his habit, Penelope turned her eyes back to those birds, her hands folding together behind her back naturally as she watched. There weren’t nothin’ for her at the stall. All her wares were to be traded or scrounged, or at a specific delicacy shop across the burg, but that was if she made it that way. For now, she was content to let the humidity in the light rain starting to fall coat her soul. Rainfall in the jungle was more steamy, but this was a warm shower after the frozen flight from New Melbourne, and she would let it soak her through if she wasn’t careful. When Cal finished up his business and turned back, she hadn’t moved. Only then did she draw her eyes away from the huddling parrots to look at him, mist alight over her curtained, curling hair and bare shoulders. “Hey, Cap’n, I know you got wrangled into spending some of your shore leave with my old acquaintance, but did ya have any other plans in your downtime? Hope ya ain’t gonna join Hook in no shootin’.”

She’d spoken in the same manner she had when they’d first met, carefree and at her own pace, at least until she mentioned what she’d overheard while on the catwalk of the ship, watching the fish unload. The idea of hunting on Greenleaf made the natives ill, considering most came for trophies and sport rather than need. Wild boar for meat was one thing, and maybe that’s what the deckhand meant since he was keen to cook, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt - that he meant to go get in trouble instead, which was less a crime than hurting any critters in Penelope’s mind.

That silver cigarette case had scarcely closed before Captain Strand had one in his lip, “Captain’s don’t get downtime, Freckles.” He pursed his lips, shielding the lighter flame from the warming drizzle. His plaid maroon and green collar began to darken with the welcome rain. “But it just so happens that I do have plans for a bit of ‘R and R.’ I been meaning to ask you something’, matter-of-fact, seein’ as this is your world.” Cal took a long draw on his cigarette, his face instantly relaxing as he reluctantly removed it to tap ash.

His eyes were serious as he met Penelope’s, “See, I got a need to visit the warmest, driest, most shadeless beach near a couple clicks. Know anywhere fits the bill?” His eyes followed the cigarette as it met his eager lips yet again.

Penelope had been all ears before the captain even got to what he was seeking. She'd tilted her in thought, pondering as he spoke, and a smile spread at the inclination. "Now, what would a man such as you want with a sunny beach… you'll burn for certain. No, can’t have that. What you want is a lagoon, and I just so happen to know where one or two is that won't be occupied by them pesky tourists like over on the beaches."

She dropped the hand that had cupped her check as she'd been thinking, the smile on her lips made conspiratorial by the shine of her eyes. "It's a ways off the path, but coordinates and a shuttle can get ya there if you’re willin’, then you'll be right shiny, Cap'n."

It was an alternative offer, but she wasn't pressing. Either way, she'd tell him what he wanted to know, of course, but was fond enough of her captain to share a hidden gem of her home world. Greenleaf had plenty of lagoons, but not everyone was keen for the travel.

Cal turned to fix his eyes on Penelope, cigarette ember alight. “A lagoon, you say? Can’t say I’ve been to one, but a secluded locale suits me just fine.” He watched her eyebrow arch in interest, “I’ve got a bit of business sand-side with the good Doc, and a quiet spot in the sun is the perfect prescription.” Cal winked, obviously proud of his turn-of-phrase, his cheek occupied with another long drag from his slender, foul-smelling cigarette. “How’s my hair?” The Captain turned to show off the back of his head to Penelope. 

"Well," Penelope said with that light mirth in her soft voice as she raked a hand through the back to comb it just once. "I ain't a doc, but I think it's safe to prescribe a trim. Reckon the lagoon works with a nice bit'a shag, though, so ya can belay those plans in favor ah the better ones.."

So that was what had Alana in such high spirits the other day, was it? Maybe, maybe not. They both got themselves quite a catch though, Penelope thought, so she couldn't fault a one. The Doc's near giddiness and this side of her Cap'n. Was downright cute. 

“Shag,” he pronounced, following the path Penelope’s hand had traveled with his own. “You might be onto somethin’.” He was feeling in much better spirits now, having a clasp full of cigarettes and some excitement on the horizon. “How’re you with a pair of shears?” Captain Strand pulled again on his cigarette, tapping his Montana crease against his thigh as he hopefully waited for her answer. If not her, then maybe Abigail–seein’ as she grew up on a boat and such.

"Oh, depends on what I'm usin' 'em on." Penelope grinned, following where the captain was going but having to leave him disappointed. Wasn't her skill set - fabric wasn't near the same as a head'a hair. "My older sister took care'a the trims growin' up. I wouldn't wanna go ruinin' that roguish look with a sorry attempt. Not when ya got special [i]plans[/i]."

The gentle teasing was a sign she was quite enjoying herself, even if she was sorry she couldn't be of more help. Maybe it was the mist and the bird, the thickness of the air, or maybe it was just this friendly back and forth. All her nerves at being home seemed to subside, at least for this moment. "Be a poor way to repay ya for the nice stroll. Maybe someone on board can help if they ain't all rushed ashore to thaw out. An' who knows, maybe the doc likes a bit of scruff."

Her grin spread. Given what her captain said to poor Isaac when he was all hurtin' over leaving a girl behind, Penelope figured thinking too much on a romantic notion might be pushing it, but from how giddy the two were… might not. 

“Maybe she does,” and with that Cal closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and welcomed the jungle rain with a plume of smoke to the sky.