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[center][h1]The Captain and the Companion Pt. 2[/h1][/center]
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Quill studied the Captain. All-in-all, he appeared exactly as written. Quill could see his gaze, stern and observing, glance over her. He was reading her like she was reading him. Two people faced with uncertainty in front of them, unsure if the other could be fully trusted or not. He said he hated secrets, but didn’t everyone have a breaking point? Did he wear his heart on his sleeve or did he conceal it in his chest for better protection?

“I don’t want to push unnecessarily, Captain, as I am thankful for you allowing me passage to where I need to go. I’m sure a man like yourself, with apparent years of experience, can understand the need to have at least some of the cards on the table. After all, how would you know when to call, raise, or fold?”

She placed her hands on her hip as the tour paused. Anyone else might have felt awkward at having caused this brief intermission, she did not. “Secrets are a necessary evil, Captain. A way of protecting yourself and others. We can wax eternal about how honesty is the best policy, but,” she gestured towards the cargo hold, the room he said she should not enter without a crew member, “I’m sure even you can appreciate the need to not let it all out in the open.”

She tilted her head to the side a bit, catching the Captain’s eyes since he made it easier now without his hat, “How about a game then? I ask you a question and you answer honestly. Then, you can ask me one and I’ll answer honestly. This is, of course, assuming the both of us are honest people.” she grinned wickedly. “Sound fair Mr. Open Book?”

Cal considered her words concerning secrets being a necessary evil. Talk like that was a sure-fire signpost for the modus operandi of a person. She weren't wrong. Ship like the China Doll had all sorts of nooks and crannies for smuggling things, and Cal found it less complicated to keep payin' passengers with pryin' eyes out of spittin' distance. "Well now, we may have a misunderstandin', darlin'. Cargo bay's a dangerous place. Lots of things could shift in transit--crush'n and maimin' if one strap snaps. It's my job to get you to Pelorum in one piece, best I can."

“Whatever you say, Captain,” Quill said with a hint of humor on her lips. While there was most likely some truth to that, she also figured it meant keeping nosy passengers out of places he didn’t want them. “As I said, no going in the cargo hold for me. Don’t see the need anyway.”

There were visible changes in the way Quill Cassidy held herself, almost like water flowing over an obstacle, she shifted her weight here, or narrowed her gaze there. The woman before him was, by all indicators in his gut, a master negotiator. In the past, when Cal had matched wits with someone like what he felt here, he'd often walked away with the short straw. When information was currency, Cal wagered, the opponents ought to match up...

He tilted his head to copy Quill. The beautiful woman before him was shoutin' all sorts of subtext through those eyes of hers. [i]Yeah,[/i] he thought, [i]let's dance.[/i] Way she was actin', he could stand to learn whether there was hornswogglin' on display that might bring danger to his crew. 'Course he could just send her packin' but if nothin' else, she were nice to look at while she stood there like a statue.

Cal leaned against the catwalk railing, "What's your question?" he said, considering the breadth of the term 'honest people.'

Quill knew she was playing with fire. The Captain could see this tête-à-tête as hostile and send her packing. But, if she read him right, the Captain was no pushover. He most likely had a long history of working on a Firefly and dealing with all sorts. That meant he dealt with the good, the bad, and the ugly. And if she had to put her money on anything, it was that he saw a lot more of the ugly than the good.

So she hoped he saw this as more entertainment than anything else. She meant no ill-will after all. They had kindly offered her passage.

She pretended to give it some thought, but she knew the first question she wanted to ask. “How long have you been a Captain, Captain?”

When the question finally came, Cal's eyes blinked wide. His posture relaxed, but his eye still glinted as he watched her.

"Long as I can remember," Strand parleyed. The nature of the question, though seemingly benign, pulled at the thread of a much larger lie that spanned not one, but two life spans. Captain Strand had always been at the helm of the China Doll, so it seemed, almost in perpetuity, if the length of his contracts and standing indicated anything. Having taken his namesake from the dying hands of his previous captain, Cal knew when to parry this line of questioning. "I'm older than I look," he added with a wink, which probably wasn't true, given his penchant for smoking.

Quill let the “half-answer” slide. She truly didn’t expect full honesty from a man she just met. “Well, you look good for your age. Who does your work? Would love their number when we are done here.” Her voice lilted with humor. Hopefully, the Captain was taking this conversation in stride.

“Well, your turn. Make it a good one and know I am judging harshly on what you choose to ask.”