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This woman certainly didn't like to waste time; just like Detlef, given that time is money. So he eagerly headed towards the ship until he stopped dead for a moment. Didn't he forgot one little detail..?
Then he remembered like a lightning went through him: The hold was still a mess from the beverage and Marti wouldn't be fast enough to clean it up in time. On the other hand, the captain didn't want to ruin this opportunity by letting her choose another ship.
He quickly put up a shining smile and said, “Naturally, we'll get right to it!” He placed himself next to the entrance, looked inside for a second and sweated a bit since Marti was still cleaning up. Nevertheless, Detlef tried his hardest to not let his client show his worries and asked, “Follow me inside, if you please.”

Twirl Star Bar

"Hey, hey, hey, can't we talk about this?" the giant eyeball being spoke as he raised his stubby arms up and his back up against the the old bar top of what clearly is a dive bar, from the dankly look of the place and less than reputable looking clientele. The man with his five o'clock shadow and beer belly stood in front of the stranger with a mean look as he rambled " No we can't, outlander! You were looking at me funny" as he looks at him estranged. The rather eyeball looked at the man completely straight and says "Look at you funny?! You do realize I'm a giant eyeball for a head? How can I look at you funny?!" just as he spoke a few glass cups began to float behind the man as he stepped forward.

"I don't know but you just do!" the man says visibly getting made at the odd fellow before him. "I just wanted an excuse to punch some alien twat!" he says as his fast came towards the odd man's eye. Seeing the punch, the giant eyeball head detached from the body leaping into the air as the fist that was meant for it hit nothing but air. The drunken man looks as the glasses behind came crashing down upon his head causing to him grip his own head for safety causing him to hunch over to protect himself which allowed the odd fellow's body to detach all parts and either float or scurr behind him reforming behind the drunken man.

He would soon feel a tap on his shoulder as the head of the eyeball reattached to the rest of his polyshaped body. As the drunken man would turn to see him, the odd fellow spoke "You know its not good to attack someone you don't know" and with that the odd fellow struck at him with his stubby arms but they didn't make contact, but the sheer force did though which cause the man tumble over feeling the power from the strike. He spat blood and says "You hit like a child!" as he quickly rushes to the odd fellow eyeball man. With almost like child like agility, the odd fellow danced around the drunken man as he swung fruitlessly, taunting him "Haha! Too slow!" as he continues to dance around him, dodging the attacks "Gotta try harder than that!" he taunts more as he continues to dance around him. Soon the drunken man tired himself out in which the odd fellow spoke "My turn" and with two jabs in which the sheer force made contact was all it was needed as the drunken stumbles back and is knocked out onto the ground. The odd fellow made a legit sounding Bell noise and raises his arms and says "Ding* Ding* I'm the winner! Magnus Arius! HA!" as he twirls around as the patrons of the bar clapped. Magnus looks at the bartender and says "What I had is on his tab" as he turns to walk out of the bar into the crazy, crazy galaxy.

The woman strides up the ramp with a mannish gait after Detlef, stopping to stand in the doorway, surveying the cabin with a slow and withering gaze. She runs her finger down the surface of the wall, her flesh and blood finger, of her left hand, and finding some dirt, rubs thumb and forefinger together with a thoughtful expression. "You've just come into port, yes?"

Yes! Another opportunity to buy time for his first mate! Just keep talking and hold his customer off!
"Yes, about an hour ago in fact. Finding the dock you've been assigned to and looking for the client surely took its time. And that's not including the time of finding someone to operate the cranes." Realizing with a slight shock that he already ran out of stuff to gain more time, her rubbing off some dust from the walls came into his mind.
With a confident smile, his chest filled with pride, he set himself in a heroic pose and said in awe: "What you've collected, isn't simple dust... it's the witness to long forgotten age where mighty ships, built of wood, conquered the seas. Even though I have no idea how long a trip took back then..."

She turns to look at him with a questioning expression "It's not actually made of wood though, right? I mean... it couldn't be, that wouldn't hold atmosphere..." She looks deeply confused, and continues looking about the place.

"Oh, don't worry", Detlef said shaking his head confidently and proceeded with a calm voice, "It's made of sturdy metal just like your regular spaceship and can take some abuse. Even the gunports come with forcefields to protect you from being sucked into the endless void when opened. Everything simply to give the ship the appearance of an ancient East Indiaman." Figuring that he can't keep talking like that forever if he doesn't want to wear out her patience, he carefully tried to nudge the conversation back to the important parts, "Now, I think we should use our remaining time for business, right? Maybe we can fill out the necessary paperwork first and when we're finally on route, we can continue talking about the good old times?"
He looked to the side a bit embarassed, realizing that the mention of the "good old times" might have came out wrong. So the man quickly added with a stutter, "I-I-If you want to I mean, like history if that's your thing..."

"I'm not much one for history... Or for paperwork to be quite frank... It's just not really necessary, is it?" She gestures between the two of them, declaring. "After all, what need is there to inform the authorities, about a simple business agreement?"

Now that sounded... weird. Detlef understood not being fond of paperwork - he knew from doing those damned tax returns -, but in the end it was still a necessary evil. Okay, not an evil per se, but after all an enormous hassle. And he nevertheless needed invoices to prove those tax officials that he wasn't cheating them out of money.
But given that he was pretty much broke already and the last job that didn't end badly was a while ago...

"There's no need to inform the authorities, you're right about that", he said with a friendly nod. "But we still need an invoice so that those officials won't rise an eyebrow and get the idea about checking on us thoroughly." Then he, however, watched his surroundings carefully, before holding his hand next to his mouth and whispered, "Of course, we can still arrange that as some sort of favour. That kind the officials don't necessarily have to know about, if you know what I mean. In that case I'll have to politely request that you'll keep your lips sealed on that..."
Detlef already knew that his first mate would probably scream at him. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

She waggles a finger of her bionic hand at him. "Now that's what i like to hear." Her grin reminds him of nothing more than a shark smelling blood. She taps her thumb against each finger in sequence, almost too quickly for the eye to follow, middle, little, ring, index; turning away from Detlef, appearing to inspect an old, slightly shabby repair job. "So, all thats left is to discuss price, then?"

Meanwhile Marti should have finished cleaning up, but at least now Detlef won't have to delay Sasha anymore. The following negotiations surely will provide enough time for his first mate now.
"Yes, so I would highly appreciate if you could produce a list of your cargo and passengers including the place of delivery, so everything from the transfer to preparing the accomodations can be prepared properly." He then added after short thinking, "And unfortunately I'll need papers, but for my personal files."

"I can have some papers put together, if you need them. Cargo, But I can't give you names." She crosses her arms, something in the set of her eyes says that this is non negotiable. "Some of my friends are quite shy."

Her tattoos, up until now, haven't caught Detlef's eye, but now, they seem rather... Gang related. The patterns geometric, with only a scant few actual images among them. A far cry from the going fashion of swirling organic shapes. Then he spots the image of a cracked void suit helmet, a jawless skull leering from within, peeking from behind the fabric of her vest. A well enough known symbol of lawless types, and pirates both.

Suddenly Detlef felt something encroaching around his stomach. First small, then getting more intensive every second passed. This uncomfortable feeling that one unspecific thing about this entire situation wasn't entirely kosher. The way Sasha was hesitating about giving more info could only mean that she was hiding something. He then grumbled and looked to the side, pretending to be thinking, but in the corner of his eyes, he spotted her tattoos. Admittedly the captain wasn't entirely versed in the different cultures, spending most of his time in space, or sea, as he often put it jokingly. Didn't the pirates who robbed him once have similar ones?
Or maybe she just liked their look, living the life of a hardcore punk who acted tough but in reality was a kind soul...
He had to risk it.

His expression lightened up once more, he grinned, put his thumbs up and said excitedly, "Excellent, then hand over your papers as soon as possible, while I will get right started!"

That sharkish grin flashes again, predatory. "I'll go have something written up." She turns, and walks back towards the loading ramp, stopping at the doorway, and half turning back. "How long will you need to sit in port? I want to be gone as quickly as possible."

He let a small sigh of relief out, forcing himself trying not to expose himself as some desperate merchant who was willing to take everything or else he could give up his ship, his profession, his dreams, basically everything he had worked hard for.
This truly had to be his lucky day, still being hired after failing his previous client. Time to put up his best impression!
"I'll instruct my first mate to build up hammocks, while I'll prepare the cargo hold. Shouldn't take an hour, everything else should depend on the number and size of your cargo."


"An wot do ya' MEAN by tha' RIDICULOUS offa?? I ain't gettin' you some fancy, high-tech dagga' fo THAT proice! Tha's sheer ROBBERY, pal! Tha'sa real fancy knife!"

The anonymous figure on the other side of the communications screen sighed. "Frelio, everybody knows you're desperate for money. Everybody in this whole smuggling business knows that you're the best at your trade too. Honestly you sneak into places that nobody could ever dream of. That's the perk of being from a raced so oppressed as your-"

"Lissen, we dun'need to talk about me past, ay? You can shut yo' mouf whennit comes ta speakin' bout me people. Ya wonna strike a deal, o' wha?"

The anonymous figure was quieted. He was desperate, whoever he was. There was an urgency for the item. A big need.
He composed himself. He thought well about his offer.
"Four-hundred poly-tokens"

"I won' do it fo' less than foive hundred."

"Do you KNOW how much a poly-token is worth?"

"You know hao' much I'mma be riskin' me life fo' this kitchin knife o' yours?"

There was a long pause. It wouldn't be an easy task, that was for sure. The buyer knew that Frelio was the only kind of person to perform such a task.

"Five-hundred poly-tokens. You have my word, you glowing freak."

Frelio smiled and sunk his hand into a bag of his favorite crisps. "Deal, then. I'll be lettin' ye know when I got it."

The communication channel closed. Frelio stuffed his mouth with the salty bits from the bottom of the bag. About time that he had work to do. The Galaxy had been quiet. REAL quiet. Like, too quiet even for a runaway laborer.

Wiping his hands on a rag, he whirled around in the cockpit seat of The Scattercrow, his personal ship of choice and making. It had a long history in this galaxy, passing from rich businessmen, to space-mobsters, to space-empires, to a lowly junk planet. Frelio, of course, had modified it to his liking. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was fast, agile, packed a punch, and stayed off tracking-devices galore. It was everything he had ever wanted. Punching in the coordinates to the planet of Neozolis and powering up the warp drive, Frelio was once again a man on a mission.

"Stinkin' rich guys. Who wants an atomically thin mono-molecular sword-thing when ya' could jus' buy some neato gun and finish it like that fella whatsisface Jones... Sendin' me of all people into danger jus fo fun..."

Punching a neon green button labled "This is the warp button you overdone fish-n'-chips" (and it was honestly a miracle Frelio could find any button in his control panel as ALL of them lit green), and The Scattercrow lurched into hyperspace and then into the skylines of Neozolis.
Then, flipping a switch labled "Disappearin' act", The Scattercrow cloaked itself as it entered the atmosphere and landed, concealed inside of an old smugglers cave. With his ship hidden, his tools prepared, and Frelio himself finally psychologically prepared for the task at hand, he stepped out of the cave and into a Neozolis winter.

"Alright, then. Now I jus' gotta locate me one o' these blades, and quick!"

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