[center][h2]”Stubborn As a Mule”[/h2][/center]
[center]   [img]https://i.imgur.com/pdXomIc.jpg[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/mW6d7F1.png[/img]
[h3]Pelorum, Day 1[/h3]
[/center]

[indent]All those brownie points with whichever Almighty shepherded this stretch of the 'Verse amounted to beans once they'd set down in their Pelorum berth. That cold fury that nary permitted him a wink kept him from watching her go once the hatch was down; least that's what he told the blended piss he'd switched to, away from the mango wine. Their mango wine.

"Sam? You there?" he articulated cautiously.

"I'm here Cal," her tone was familiar, and a touch pitying.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, took another swallow. 

The pair sat in silence, Sam leaving open the static from the empty bridge. 

"Is she gone?" 

There was a beat before her reply, "Yes, Cal, she's gone. Abby saw her off an hour ago."

He shook his head. He only meant to fill his glass once.

"You might still catch her if you tried," the perceptible arch of her digital brow and her matter of fact tone was enough to set his teeth on edge.

"Makes you think I wanna do that? Huh?," having no body to face, he gestured wildly to his empty and ransacked bunk. "You think if I wanted her here, I'd just let her go? She don't wanna be here, and I ain't no tyrant. Anybody's free to go what wants to go." He was breathing heavy, he smoothed his hair.

"Anybody?" Came Sam's cool and cutting tone. He set down his glass.

"Any body." Cal collected his hat and wrenched down the ladder to the bridge cooridor. Like a tempest the Captain made his way into the galley, whipping open cabinets and drawers, jaw fixed.

Lyen, who had been reclining in the galley lounge rose to her feet, Lucky perched on her shoulder. The state of him rifling through the preciously laid cutlery Edina had just filed away after the onslaught of university students set the nun to cross her arms. Lucky let out a perfunctory sqawk before hiding behind Ly's braided hair.

"Anything I can help you find," the nun's even tone barely betrayed her mounting consternation.

Over his shoulder the Captain barked, "Cigarettes, Sister." He pried open a particularly stuck drawer, sending wooden chopsticks clamoring to the floor. "Just a little vice," his eyes flashed before returning to the crescendo of his work, toppling bowls and bamboo plates onto the counter, reaching toward the back of a cabinet.

"Okay, that's enough," Lyen said, stooping to the floor to gather some of the fallen wreckage of cups; Lucky took flight to a nearby chairback. Cal was on his toes still grasping for something behind the stove vent. "There's no need for all of this," Ly righted an overturned mug, miraculously unscathed, and straightened. "What's really going on?" He was approaching manic, she thought, the way his eyes flared.

"Cig-ar-ettes," Cal repeated in staccato, retrieving a burlap pouch and kicking his way through fallen jugs and bowls on his way to the dining table.

His blatant response caused her to bristle. "Uh-huh," Ly intoned, following him to the table where he took a seat.

"You'll come to find, if you stick around my ship--and any body's free to go what pleases them, hear?--you'll come to find I'm a simple man," he placed his hat beside him as he unwrung the cord of the burlap pouch and wriggled it open, pouring its contents onto the wooden table. A stack of papers for rolling and a cloth bundle of tobacco lay bare before the Captain and the nun. His hands got to work as he continued, "A simple man only needs a few things," out slipped a roll of paper. "He needs a place to rest his head," a pinch of uneven tobacco lined the edge of the paper. "A job to keep his hands busy," the tight roll spun toward the edge, and he lifted it to his lips. "And a vice for when he aims to misbehave," his tongue trailed the slip. He surveyed his work, then his lighter appeared and a plume of smoke rose to the ceiling porthole. 

"Interesting," the nun began, planting her palms on the table from where she stood, "a simple man has no need for a simple woman?" She wagered she'd sussed what got under the Captain's skin, though their knock-down-drag-out was on display for all to see not long ago. From heartell, the medic and the Captain had enjoyed a cautious romance, 'til Pelorum.

Cal wagged his finger, still breathing in smoke. "Simple women a simple man can handle; it's complicated women what jump at shadows and then tear into you for nothin' that cause him consternation." Pleased with his answer, the Captain reclined in his chair, maintaining his ember a magnificent orange. 

"Ah," Ly gestured toward the shambles of the galley kitchen, "and no complicated man would do a thing like that." Her brow raised as she folded her arms.

"How should I know?" He asked, smile breaking across the left corner of his mouth, cigarette hanging in the right.

"[i]How[/i]," the nun said, "You know," she said, gracefully seating herself opposite the conflagrating Captain, "I don't have much expertise in the matters of the heart, but in my experience the 'Verse has a way of working things out in its own time." (trans. 'Okay')

After taking a long drag, Cal exhaled and stood, "[i]Da Chung Wu Dahn[/i], Sister." He placed his hat on the back of his head, "You're welcome aboard my boat, but stow yer sermon for some soul less ragged, [i]dohn-luh-mah[/i]?" (trans. 'Impressive display, but no substance', 'are we clear?')

Lyen smiled, nodding her head, "[i]Nah Mei Guan Shee[/i]." (trans. 'In that case, never mind')

Cal made his way for the aft stairwell, but before he disappeared through the passage, Ly added, "Captain? Are you familiar with the concept of Anatta? No? It means no-soul. It is said that to reach enlightenment, we must come to the realization that we have no soul. [i]Yěxǔ nín bǐ nín xiǎngxiàng de yāo jiējìn qǐméng.[/i]" (trans. 'Perhaps you're closer to enlightenment than you think')

Without another word he quit the galley and rode the stairs down to the cargo bay two at a time. All he needed was another woman to set her sights on all the things wrong with him. Although his and Alana's fight ended hours ago and the cold numbness had set in, he clung to that fire to push him forward. No woman, digital or otherwise, could convince him he was in the wrong. 

The empty spot where the mule usually sat strapped in braced his mind to his task: to find another mule. Armed with a job to keep his hands busy, the simple man amazed himself with how quickly he could move on from one mule to another. With one last pull on his cigarette, Cal's boots touched Pelorum, and his mind wandered to his vices. [/indent]