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Date Posted: 22:30:51 01/19/02 Sat
Author: Cid von Sabra, Maureen Wright
Subject: Been busy, but I'm posting. Finally.

OOC: Warning for implied and spoken language. Cid is a dirty, dirty boy. Those of you who know this should be okay, but those who don't... you have been forewarned.
IC:

F***, I'd kill for a real drink.
Seated calmly under the four foot high cover of a haphazardly fallen pile of concrete and slowly eroding steel, a squat figure narrows his eyes at nothing in particular, seated with as much distance as he can from the others while still being within the radius that constitutes a "group". The dwarf - or half-dwarf, as one can tell upon witnessing the curved horn that sprouts from the point where his hairline meets the forehead - paws back some hair that has fallen into his eyes, pushing it back into an untamed, thick black mane. He is dressed simply, in a vest, black tee, blue jeans, and dun construction boots. His eyebrows lift in in a businesslike way at Pinky's approach, revealing slit pupils and cat-yellow irises.
He cracks his knuckles, contemplatively, popping the joint of each thick finger as Pinky addresses them. After a short silence of thought in which he slowly draws a small com from a vest pocket, he speaks, in the process exposing curved canines and a gravel-rough, low tone.
"...y'mean 'droids? Dammitall, I think I've got somethin' fer that. Hold on."

Maureen wipes the sweat from her forehead with an oily hand, before reaching back up into the innards of the hovercar placed on lifts above her. The man working alongside her in the warm workshop hands tools as she dictates, occasionally helping with the process as she attempts to put back into some semblance of working order the right-hand counterthrusters some idiot had busted on the thing.
She mutters over her shoulder, practiced enough not to need to constantly watch her work. "Prolly doing donuts in a lot somewhere... stupid bastards don't have anything better to do? Hold this up, eh?"
The man complies, stepping immediately next to Maureen and speaking up in a wearied tone as he lifts a coil of wire and tubing that would otherwise fall from the car.
"If it weren't for stupid bastards, you wouldn't have a job, Maur."
"True..." She finishes tightening something within the hovercar, sighs, and is about to start work on another segment of the backup fuel line (lucky he didn't blow himself up, driving on this piece of-) when the com she had thoughtlessly placed her pocket on 'vibrate' goes off.
Shit.
The man looks to the woman, whose hip in the close proximity touches his, and within a few seconds is riotously laughing.
"Somethin' you wanna tell me, Maur?"
"Bite me, bastard." Maura steps away from the hovercar, scowling, wiping her hands on the work rag tucked into a belt loop of her grimy brown coveralls.
"Ohho, an invitation. Really, Maura, if you really needed some, you just had to come to me."
"Asshole." Maura growls, stepping into a quiet corner of the repair shop and clicking on the com.
"Wright here."
"Took ya long enough, b****."
"Hello, Cid." Maureen recognises the snarling voice, tucking behind her ear a few strands that have escaped from her ragged blue bandanna and leaning nonchalantly against the wall.
"I need somethin' to take out 'droids. Dan prolly has somethin' for that."
He spoke two sentences without cussing. Record-breaking...
"Is this for the fight against 'Comp?"
"If I thought it was any of your goddamned f***ing business, I would've told you the m*********ing story."
"Fine. What if Dan doesn't feel like cooperating, though?"
"Make him. Screw him. You're a smart c***. And bring it here. I told you where I'd be."
"Okay-"
click, static
"...Cid. Shit."
Maureen holds the com between her teeth after closing the line, stripping out of her coveralls as she walks to reveal street clothes underneath.
"Changed your mind, Maureen?"
She takes the com from her mouth, putting it in her pants pocket carefully. "Go screw yourself." She speaks without heat now, as if tired of the daily bantering taunts.
"Beats half the whores in this damn city."
Maureen laughs, though the sound is a bit pale.
"Be back soon. Cid wants something done."
"Check."

Cid looks up from his com to the group upon closing the line, tucking it into one of the many pockets of his gray vest.
"Ninety percent chance I have somethin' to take out 'droids in the hour."

Should the other ten percent prevail... Maureen will in no way, shape, or form be happy. For a long time.

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