This begins Chapter 3 of the Story

Portrait of Useful:

Vesper Roger-Exupéry is off-duty, in a hole-in-the-wall Den of Iniquity where Guildspeople mingle freely and a (silly) contest seems to be happening. There are two teams of contestants, two simple mechanical (clockwork) machines that have been cobbled together to Get from One End of the Room to the other. The room is a challenge because there are chairs overturned, and tables, rudimentary obstacles such as somebody’s Very Fancy Hat, a staircase made of unsteady scrap metal.

The Charioteer is nursing a shot of something sweetly pungent, local to Acheon, and she flashes one of the opposition a smile. “When Team Best wins, I hope you’re ready to show me how you did that splendorous trick with the cards, because I’m ready to learn, my friend, I am ready to learn and surpass and to carry the memory of your fingers wherever I go — go!!” At which point, her attention back on the game, she joins general clamor to shout, “Go! GO. C’MON, PANCREATOR WATCH O’ER! Oh flickering engines. Ratcrisp. THE MOUNTAIN OF BROKEN DREAMS — get over it! Go!!”

Jonas enters The Sink feeling increasingly apprehensive.

It's been two years since the events of the Spiral Serpent Scandal, with its adrenaline-fuelled conclusion and tragic aftermath. Two years since he buried his closest friend. And two years since he last saw Vesper Roger-Exupéry...

The tavern isn't crowded, but it still takes him a few moments to pick her out. Once he does, he finds his nerves evaporating and can't keep a lop-sided grin from creeping onto his face.

She's busy talking to someone (of course!), so he just seats himself next to her at the bar and nods at the barman.

"I'll take a glass of bourbon, straight, when you're ready, friend," he announces loudly. "Unless you happen to have any scotch?"

The chaos has died down by the time the Engineer rocks up. Because Vesper is so absorbed in the Cool New Card Trick, a full beat goes by before — well, wait for it. The body to her left orders bourbon loudly and there’s something about the voice. Vesper’s lashes flicker; she finds her focus wandering. When you're constantly traveling memory lane is lined in stardust and absences. Her expression goes twilight, which is another way of saying bittersweet.

But her ears are like we’re just as important as EYES, Vesper, listen up! and the body’s voice is saying friend. Unless you happen to have and it’s just gotta be. Doesn’t it just gotta be? Her card trick-teaching Charioteer buddy sees Vesper’s expression change. Gut-twist. Splash of adrenaline, surprise.

She swivels and, with casual theatricality, plants her elbow on the bar-top, cups her chin in the palm of her hand. Earnestly: “Don’t you know drinking Scotch without an old friend is a perilous sin, Jonas? And drinking bourbon straight? Treacherous. Don’t worry; I’ll fling myself between you and danger.”

Here: the sizzle of a hopeful grin, suggestion of an intrepid dimple. Genuine Wonder. “Of all the gin joints; Jonas Fischer. I feel like a star's just dropped into my drink and isn't it going to go down fine; blasterburn! How are you in Acheon? How are you?”

See, she just wanted the pleasure of saying his name (and fixing the reality of no really Jonas Fisher he is right there) aloud. The surprise has settled in; now she is a just contained ball of exuberance.
This message was last edited by a game editor at 11:20, Wed 12 Sept 2018.

Jonas lets the grin have free rein now.

"Well, as I recollect, it always did seem easier to face down peril with you beside me," he acknowledges, with a quirk of an eyebrow. "Leastways, it did when there was hard liquor involved. Better make that two whiskies, friend," he adds to the barman, then turns to Vesper with a twinkle in his eye. "For starters. We have a lot of catching up to do..."

Then his brow wrinkles into a frown and his voice drops lower.

"But I ain't gonna lie to you, hon: happy though I am to see you - hell, I can't even begin to tell you how happy! - this ain't strictly a chance encounter. Truth is, a mutual acquaintance of ours told me to look you up - mighty fine figure of a woman slash machine, goes by the name o' Lady Brass. And the moment she mentioned your name, I just knew it was fate conspirin' to bring us back together. So..."

He breaks off as the barman delivers their drinks, then resumes a bit sheepishly: "But before we get into all that... how've you been? Still harin' round the galaxy lookin' for trouble? Still sweet on that Griffin fella?"

When Jonas turns to the barman and says he better make that two whiskies, friend, Vesper holds her fingers up behind Jonas's shoulder and mouths Four. For starters, indeed. His lowered voice is her cue to lean in, attentive. Maybe Jonas knows Vesper well enough to see how Lady Brass' name strikes her like a tuning fork and see where her curiosity changes pitch, thoughtfulness gets scraped sharper. The way she looks at him stays warm and pleased, though. At least until the Griffin fella question.

"Levi?" she says, as if there was another Griffin she carried a torch for. "Nope." That's about as firm as a knife point thunked into a table. Evidently, there's something awfully interesting on the rim of her glass, given that she chooses this moment to pick her drink up and scrutinize it. "We're done."

"And you know the galaxy, it's so easy to stub your toe on trouble. Barely gotta look, but if trouble happens and nobody sees it, does it really happen? Say, Jonas, don'tcha think this color's a dreamy song of a thing? Looks like it just yearns to be fire."

Vesper drags her gaze away from the inanimate object and tilts her glass Jonasward. "Cheers. To mutual acquaintance." It's a serious cheers, given everything. Given the last time they were together. But her dimple flashes anyway, all sweet and irrepressible. "And fate too, why not?"

Vesper gives the Scotch a taste then nods toward one of the booths along the wall.

"Let's us go cozy up in a corner where we can really get intimate, huh? I'll tell you three true stories and one tale so tall you'll forget where it left its feet and I'll give you my new thesis on fate -- which I just came up with, Jonas, and I'm pretty darned proud of, you sparking muse! -- and you know I'm keen to hear what you've been working on, for pleasure, y'know, what you're proud of, what's lighting you up -- "

Vesper is decidedly not sheepish, but she knows when she's running on; she corrects course.

"I should square Bill away," hook of a thumb over her shoulder, at the Charioteer she was talking to when Jonas came in. She's remembered he exists now. "I'll meetcha over there and ... Maybe we ought first to talk about why Lady Brass is giving you my name?" Here's one of Vesper's tricks-that-isn't-a-trick. She's 100% sincere when she puts a hand over her heart and says: "I don't imagine she knew how happy your face would make me and we've got the whole starry night, or as long as you please, to go on about everything else. I'll be guided by you!"

Paavo returns to the spaceport and is relieved to find ‘Garm’s Fang’ refueled and ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Tic’s soot-covered face splits in a grin as he spots his captain heading up the ramp.

“Did you bring blue paint for me, kapteeni?” he asks, wiping his oily hands on his trousers. “I must paint the ramp to confuse the old spirit. He will think the ramp is the ocean and leave. Hah! Stupid spirit!”

Valentin appears from the galley and nods politely to Paavo. “Welcome back, Captain. I’m cooking soup if you are hungry. Will the others be joining us as well?”  The youth peers behind Paavo, trying to see if he has company.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:12, Fri 14 Sept 2018.

"...and then the Captain's head splits right in half and this... this... thing comes out - all spiky legs and weird eyes like some freaky giant bug! - and starts attacking us! And no only that: it's cackling away and talking in Harker's voice! You remember, the Reeve from..."

Jonas is in full narrative flow, accompanying his graphic descriptions with gestures and wild expressions.

He'd started their intimate little tête-à-tête by relating the story of how he survived the crash-landing of a sabotaged shuttle in a bug-infested jungle, defeated a giant black mantis by firing a plasma blaster at the shuttle's fuel tank, wrestled with an inhumanly strong Reeve - who'd just killed the pilot of a rescue ship and seemed determined to abandon the rest of the survivors - and then shot down the cargo hauler that he was trying to escape on.

After that rather overblown beginning, the story had seemed to be settling into an altogether calmer and more respectable rhythm when - Wham! Bam! - mayhem reared its ugly head again with the unexpected reappearance of the Reeve from the first act!

By the time Jonas has reached the conclusion of his tale - complete with the requisite mission into perilous uncharted territory, studiously-ignored potential love interests, implausible rescue of an innocent child in a crowded street, over-extended chase scene, a pantomime villain taking innocent bystanders as hostages, yet more gratuitous mayhem and a sinister Antimonist conspiracy to overthrow the Great Houses - the engineer is wild-eyed and flushed.

"...And that's when she told me to look for you," he concludes.

He belatedly notices the untouched drink in front of him, downs it with a single gulp, takes a deep breath and then fixes his gaze on the tabletop.

"So... would you like to come to the party they're throwing in my honour?"

She'd been a good audience -- invested, expressive, encouraging. She usually tries, knowing what a difference it makes from personal experience, but Jonas made it easy. See where Vesper's eyes widen, eh? See where she covers her mouth with her hands; or where she covers her eyes and says, "No!" or "St. Paulus!" or "Moteurs souffrants!"; or when she leans forward, lips parted, then jumps outta her skin as one of Jonas's wild gestures takes her by surprise. She asks Jonas to repeat a point or two, seeming especially keen/wistful when he mentions perilous uncharted space.

"You uncommon cleverness. That is the best story I've heard in a season!" Beat.

Vesper is a passionate young woman, but it took her a goodly number of seconds to condense her response to Jonas's story into that heartfelt naming and endearment. His tale has left her admiring, riled up, and considering. The mathematics don't please her: four dead Charioteers. Dying in a crash or because you've had your neck snapped is one thing, but having your insides scooped out and your skin inhabited by some bug-monster is another. But hey, one alive Jonas & Co., so that's dandy.

Vesper reaches across the table with her left hand, offering it to the Engineer. If he takes it, she clasps his hand in both of hers and squeezes. If he doesn't, she swipes his empty glass and puts it upside-down on the edge of the table.

"Are you really askin'? With all my ardent heart. Why, if I were standin' right now, do you know I'da swooned already? When is it?" Her eyes crinkle at the corners. Vesper pulls her hands back and pushes another drink in front of Jonas. Rests her chin on her curled up index finger and thumb.

"As for this scheme that's brought us together again, when can you get the names for me on somethin' that doesn't flicker, or let me run my eyes on 'em? I'll start considering how best to get the word where it needs to go. And... hey. Anything you want from this Held-in-Your-Honor party?"
This message was last edited by a game editor at 19:33, Wed 19 Sept 2018.

Jonas takes her hand without hesitation, but his grasp is awkward and somewhat tentative, as if he is frightened of breaking it.

"Party's s'posed to be in a couple of days," he tells her, frowning. "But Hückebein’s not made the arrangements yet - he's fixin' to send me the details at the Guildhall. Not sure I really want the fuss, if I'm honest. I'm not much for hob-nobbin' with the great and the good - think I'd rather face off against another damned bug! But I reckon I'd be safe enough if you had my back..."

"As for the names and stuff... best we have a word wi' Lady Brass about that. Don't want to risk letting hardcopy wi' that kind of gen fallin' into the wrong hands."

The engineer's face ripples with a too-fast-to-read sequence of micro-expressions, which like watching an abstract visualisation of his thought processes in real time.

"Say, do you need to get some kind of... um... party frock, to go to this thing?" He looks vaguely uncomfortable as he considers this, then his expression abruptly turns to horror as another thought visibly arrives. "Hells bells! They ain't expecting me to dress up, are they?"

Vesper takes a judicious sip of her scotch. Then holds up a finger, opens her mouth to speak; pauses, bites the inside of her lip and glances upward, thoughtfully, musingly; takes another judicious sip of her scotch, sets the remainder down, and steeples her fingers.

"Lemme ask you what you expect. Say there's this heroic and upstanding Guildsperson. That's you." Vesper winks. "In this scenario. Here's this Glitz thrown by the Glam because he did a dashing thing. Does he - do you - wear your workaday or do you flash it up a little? Comfortably. You're already clad in glory, after all. Really, Cleverness, just... Dress as who you are, and who you want to be. Think of your party as hob-nobbin' with free food that the great and good have provided to you, huh?"

Vesper does not choose to resist teasing Jonas; she hits him with a soulful look. "But ...Are you worried I'll be derelict? I guess I'll scrounge up somethin' party frock appropriate. Oh! We can trawl the markets together, if you'd like."

Jonas looks thoughtful, then vaguely troubled, and finally panic-stricken as the implication of her teasing words finally sinks in.

"What? No! I meant... I didn't... Hells!" He runs a hand through his unruly hair a feww times... and then stops, fixing her with a suddenly suspicious gaze.

"You're messin' with me, ain't you?" he grins. "No fair! And there I was fixin' to spend some of my hard-earned cash on you too. Shame on you!"

The engineer seems to collect himself. "But you're right about one thing: if I'm attendin' this here 'revelry', then I'm goin' as yours truly, and I ain't apologizin' for it to no 'distinguished guests'. I had more'n my fill o' masks at the last party..."

He climbs to his feet, looking a little unsteady, and then fixes her with a decisive look.

"Now... the truth is, I really do have a heap of firebirds burnin' a hole in my pocket," he confides, sotto voce. "But I'm gonna break with tradition and  not blow them all on some sweet new tech, seein' as how I still owe a not-so-sympathetic Reeve for the last few times I indulged my ah, passion for self-improvement." He flexes his fingers meaningfully, making the servos on his cybernetic enhancements whine softly.

"And you know what?" He looks down critically at his outfit: a long leather coat worn over rumpled and stained work trousers and a once-fashionable shirt that's definitely seen better days. "I reckon could use a new shirt or two, to complement my fine coat. And maybe we can find something for you too, if you behave yourself."

He gives her a genuine, easy smile, a rare gift that disappears almost as soon as it registers, to be replaced by his customary concentrated frown.

"But then I really do mean to bank the rest o' my ill-gotten gains, to help keep the blood-suckers from the door."

Then the grin is back. He holds out his arm theatrically.

"Well my lady, shall we repair to a different establishment?" he ventures in a ludicrously stilted, upper crust accent. "One that might stock appropriate accoutrements for a debonair young gentleman and his winsome companion?"

Vesper, who'd given Jonas a laughing-eyed look when he'd cried 'No fair!', sits up straight with an air of vaguely military attention when he gets that Decisive Look. Stays at attention all the until behave yourself, then she slouches back into her seat and takes a wee sip of the spirits left in her drink.

….debonair young gentleman and his winsome companion?

"Oh! Is that my cue?" Vesper says with a laaanguid drawl, buried within which is a cinder-y spark of (touched) amusement. Theater must be met by theater, after all. And she is touched that he'd meant his party invite should come with a wardrobe-gift, once the novel idea - that Jonas actually does have a flock of firebirds to let fly - sinks in. St. Paulus! Wouldn't Cam have loved to see Jonas with the feathers to spend on something, then spend it on something that didn't whirr or click or sit there all rustified and waiting for the electrical kiss and elbow grease that'll bring it back to life?

"That is an awfully fine coat, Sirrah. Mind if I look for a maker's mark?" That was a thoroughly rhetorical question, unless Jonas responds quickly to the contrary. While she has the back of the Engineer's collar turned inside out so she can look for aforementioned maker's mark and her wrist is resting on his shoulder, she says, "Do I still get a prize if I just behave like myself?"

"Don't worry. I'll do my best."

If there's no mark at the jacket's back she'll want to check the inside of his sleeve-cuff, and if there's nothing there, she'll leave it for now, a touch disappointed. Vesper the Merchant, Purveyor of Fine Things, Vesper the Interested in Handy-Craeft, or Vesper the Flirt: choose your own adventure. (All. The answer is all.) Vesper brushes Jonas's shoulders off, thoughtfully gathers up their glasses to take back to the barkeep, and is ready to hit the markets.

--

Once they're on their way to Sorry We Interrupt This Space Opera For An Acheon Agora Shopping Montage, she wants to know, "Hey, tell me what this captain of yours is like? The one who's gonna take you all the way out to the Perilous Uncharted Yonder?"

Jonas and Vesper leave the Sink and head towards Vladimir’s Way for a shopping spree. The Planetary Agora is a two-kilometer long shopping street flanked by towering malls, warehouse-sized department stores, posh little boutiques hidden away on lazy side streets, specialists’ shops, banks, workshops, rental services, parlors, and clinics. It runs above the West Road, connecting the Zebulon’s Tower district with the westernmost of Acheon’s downtown arcologies, and intersecting Basin Bridge.

As Criticorum is one of the most technologically sophisticated planets in the Phoenix Empire, and also one of the richest, Acheon is the place to shop for high-tech gadgets and services. While the famed Istakhr Market is much larger than Acheon’s agora and carries the greatest variety of goods anywhere, including a lot of truly exotic wares, for high-tech gear Criticorum’s Vladimir’s Way is the best option.


This message was lightly edited by the GM at 00:49, Tue 09 Oct 2018.

In reply to Vesper (msg # 13):

(There is an insignia in the collar of the coat; it's from an old, well-respected, but rather obscure maker, and the label itself shows significant signs of wear. Vesper suspects that Jonas acquired the garment second-hand and has no real concept of its provenance, but values it highly enough to take surprisingly good care of it.)

"Paavo?" the engineer says, in response to her question about the captain. "Not likely to win any awards for subtlety or empathy, but he seems to run a tight ship. Looks like he's been in more than his fair share of scrapes, and I reckon that's 'cause he can't help but go looking for trouble."

He frowns at her quizzically. "You heard of him? Styles himself 'Umpionen' and hails from Leminkainen."

"What, him? No! I mean -- do I? Sure." She sounds surprised at first, but then, why, Vesper's all airy nonchalance wrapped around a quick stab of adrenaline (tension). "Paavo Umpionen from Leminkainen: fights like a hull rat on blitzjuice, hobbies include cobbling boots outta the skin and teeth of his enemies or playing the balalaika with really dedicated zip, a pilot's pilot -- he and my pater go way back."

And now, she is fortified against the (imagined, mistaken) possibility of one of those aquaintances. Paavo Umpionen, Pavlo Enpymien. Vesper gives Jonas a sidelong glance: "Usually headsortails for me when a body goes way back with papa."

A couple of these observations make Jonas raise an eyebrow, but he nods sagely at her last remark.

"Yeah, I hear you. I ain't sayin' whether he's good people or bad people - frankly, I don't really know the man - but he's the kind of fella you'd prefer to have on your side - rather than t'other - if'n it came to blows."

He pauses for a barely perceptible beat, glancing at her.

"I'll introduce you later, after we scare up some decent threads. "

"Speaking of, do you know your measurements?"

With a sparkle in her eye, she gestures toward a shop where he can get them if he doesn't already know them. And so it begins.

--

'Ruthless' is unlikely to be the first word that comes to mind when one thinks of Vesper. Because look: sweet-eyed darling, all elegant swagger and bright sincerity; ready to like you and ready to look at you just the way the hypothetical you really yearns to be liked or really hopes to be looked at; happy to entertain, happy to make happy, full of ideas toward that end -- ready to take pleasure in life, her own or yours. And mildly buzzed Vesper is especially exuberant.

But Vesper does not screw around when it comes to buying and selling. Having devoted tonight to Jonas's quest, Vesper applies herself to the pursuit of the best duds money can buy -- preferably for less than market value.

How many purveyors of secondhand threads, peddlers of exquisite toggery, or merchants of swank attire is Vesper willing to pit her wit against? Infinite many. But tonight: as many as it takes for Jonas to end up with something he likes and makes him look good.

--

As they shop, some negative feedback voiced is:

"I wouldn't use that rag to clean the toilet at Snake Milk." "But look at the fabric, it'll catch on every hook and the first time you have to roll up your sleeves you might as well just go shirtless." "These crooked seams are an insult to navigation by needle. Whoever was sewing them must've been in tears." "Oh, come on; do you really want that cozying up to your naked body? It'll probably scratch you raw."

Some positive feedback voiced is:

"Oh, feel this. But with your eyes closed, Jonas, if you please, because isn't it good?" "Why! You look sharp as a new playing card." "Oh, flash - a color that really makes one ignore the shirt in favor of gazing wistfully into your eyes." "Nice cut."

--

And so it goes. Should Jonas veer toward some pretty flashy technogadgetry, Vesper is duly interested in it and in Jonas's reaction to it; but tries to be a good friend and lure him back on track.