Elite roleplay: Citi Gateway

CITI GATEWAY

The Orbis station is a center of activity. Within the station a myriad of places can be found.
  • The Warrens: Where the poor plebs of the station live. It's is a breeding ground for the most unscrupulous. Keep an eye on your wallet when traversing the corridors of these areas.
  • Habitation Complex: For those workers and pilots that can afford it, this area provides closer to 1G gravity for more earth like living.
  • Commerce Divison: and Administration Where the larger corporations make their home. Station administration can be found here.
  • Industrial Complex: Where industry manufactures their various goods.
  • Entertainment: District Bars, theaters and night clubs, tattoo parlors and other establishments can be found vying for a commanders credits in exchange for a bit of fun.
  • Station Security: A high tech brig used to house law breakers until they can be tried, and or deported off station.
  • Medical Ward: Where commanders can get patched up, enhanced, or fix existing cybernetics.

General Roleplay Etiquette:

1. Control only the actions of your own character(s). (AKA: God Mode)
This doesn't matter how small the action is, even if it is as simple as scratching their nose or a direct reaction to something else that just happened. This applies to everything from casual conversation to full blown fight scenes. If you'd like someone to do something specific, PM that person, however keep in mind they are completely within their rights to say no. Especially if said action is inappropriate to their character and/or circumstance.

2. Don't brute force your way into another persons RP.
Approaching with a conversation starter is fine, or indeed some other small action. However charging in, guns blazing and disrupting the flow of another person/pair/groups conversation/arc is about as rude as doing so in real life. If something is going on that you'd like to participate in, be subtle about it. Put out a gentle hook for someone to take, but again, be aware that said hook may not be taken. If you fear it was simply unnoticed, PM the person or people it concerns. Or even leave a message in the OOC forums.

3. Good grammar and spelling is preferred.
We're not asking you to be perfect, but please at least demonstrate willingness. no1 iz gna tak u srsly usng txt spk. There's a wide variety of people here, many who speak English as a second, or even third language. There are even some with varying degrees of dyslexia and/or likely other issues that affect spelling/grammar. We accept them all here. However, people who aren't accepted, are those unwilling to accept polite correction. Remember that even a small thing like the placement of a comma, or the wrong use of there/their/they're can completely change the definition of an entire sentence.

4. Accept constructive criticism gracefully and politely.
If someone spots an issue with your writings, they may wish to help you improve that writing. They may do this through PM or even publicly air their thoughts on the OOC forum. If they have taken the time to be polite and explain what is wrong with your writing, the best way to behave is to respond in kind, using the same manner they have approached you with. It means they have taken an active interest in what you have written and wish to see more. Basically, you have a fan!

5. Don't take the actions or opinions of things done IN RP, to be directly relevant to the writers thoughts or opinions.
Basically, if some ones character calls your character a jackass, it doesn't mean the writer thinks you are a jackass. It's a ROLE they are PLAYING. Watch a movie. The argument between the characters isn't an argument between the actors involved. The same applies here.

6. It's not a popularity contest.
Your RP might be bustling with participants. You have 3 people off station in a fire fight, while another 2 are infiltrating the darkest areas of the station, meanwhile a group of 4 others are tracking your movements in an effort to stop you. Good for you, I'm sure it will be a thrilling read! But you know what? Sometimes the absolute BEST work, comes from two RP characters having a simple heart to heart. Both are valid, both are great, but NEITHER is categorically better than the other. Period.


Inara RP Etiquette:

1. Respect the setting and rules of the universe.
Inara is an Elite: Dangerous 3rd Party Tool. The RP Forums are set in the Elite: Dangerous universe. Elite: Dangerous has rules, as any fictional universe does from Lord of the Rings to Star Wars, or Game of Thrones to Star Trek. If you intend to RP within the Elite: Dangerous universe you are bound by the history and rules of that universe. Simply put, this RP forum is bound by the same rules as the game, so if it can't be done in the game, it is not permitted here. This applies to things from a 50Ly Jump Range on a normal, unmodified Sidewinder, to the destruction of entire stations.

2. Respect the characters created by others.
We have a wide variety of characters already here. It's expected that some will be similar, just as it's expected that two characters will be vastly different. Opinions of each persons character will naturally be varied, but all are valid provided they follow the rules of the universe. You are allowed to interact with, or avoid interaction with, any character in the RP forums. But you have no right to belittle others for their creation. You are not an authority figure on writing, nor are you directly affected by another persons imagination. You might not like it, but you MUST respect it.

3. Be caught up on current events before joining in.
You need basic things like character descriptions in order to interact with them. You also need to know what's going on in the surrounding areas. This is simply because the people you are hoping to RP with, might be gearing up to something that you might not want to be part of. Or simply that the most recent post, out of context, could leave a different impression on the goings on than if you gather that context. We don't expect you to read every single post from the beginning of the forums, just enough to get that basic understanding.

4. Either subscribe to, or frequently check, the Roleplay: Q&A and OOC forum.
People may be discussing something relevant to you there, or even discussing you directly. Perhaps someone asked what the general consensus on the existence or non-existence of a certain object. Or we're just chatting about random gibberish. Either way, be aware of it and use it. If you're unsure about something, such as how guns would look and or behave, or even the music selection, use the OOC forum to ask. We don't have all of the answers, but the collective knowledge and logic usually allows us to overcome an issue and come to a decision on what should be allowed. Frontier Developments, and even David Braben himself, don't have the answers to every possible question that can be asked.

5. Large Scale events exploding out of nowhere are a complete no go.
We get it. Everyone wants their character to be noticed and for people to be tripping over themselves to interact with them. In some audiences, an introduction involving you blasting in for landing in a fiery wreckage of a ship, before cart wheeling out and sword fighting 35 Ninjas before whisking off with the local celebrity for a glorious night of passion, is in fact, cool. This is not one of those audiences. It is generally considered better to build your character up slowly over time. Eventually, you might even have a legitimate excuse to fight those Ninjas. Maybe even with other RP participants by your side.

6. Perfect characters are boring.
The point of a character arc, is that it is in fact, an arc shape. One who is morally unquestionable, fully kitted out and an infinite fountain of knowledge, cannot go through an arc. Give your character flaws. Be it a tendency towards befriending the wrong people, or a bad knee that frequently gives out at inopportune moments. It gives readers something to latch onto and empathise with. You can give your character exceptional capabilities at something, but it requires balance. She's a damn good pilot with no equal, but can't drive an SRV for peanuts. It can lead to some very interesting moments between characters, be it heartfelt or comedic.


Other Notes:
It should be noted that there can be exceptions to these points. For example, good grammar when a character is speaking is actually rare. Few people in real life actually speak with perfect eloquence after all. Or previously arranged actions during a fight scene, such as someone stumbling back after a punch. What's key to remember is context.

All in all, remember this is purely for fun. We have some seriously talented writers here, and others whose writing history starts and ends at high school. But many are willing to help out in whatever way they can. All it takes is that you ask nicely.

Also keep in mind that many people who RP here, also have logbook stories related to the character, or characters, they portray. If it looks like there's an "in joke" going on that you're unsure of, it's probably in those.

In fact, some users have even gone to the trouble of creating "alts" to RP with. If you read back far enough, it's usually pretty clear who has and hasn't, and which ones are the "alts". It's therefore not unheard of to see the apparent seizing of control of other characters. If you do spot one, point it out in the OOC section. If intervention is needed, it will be sorted quickly and (hopefully) politely.

Most, if not all RP participants here have Logbook stories pertaining to their character(s). These are for the reading pleasure of anyone who wishes to do so. While it can be useful to read them in order to gain a bit of backstory on a character you wish to interact with, it should not be assumed that your character shares that knowledge. Within the E:D Universe, these Logbooks either don't exist, or are private diaries kept by the characters. Either way, without explicit statements to say otherwise from the writer, your interactions should reflect that your character is in the dark about any information you, the writer/reader, have gained from reading the stories.
08 Jun 2017, 5:19pm
"John Mathurin," he said, returning his attention to the flashing job offer, which he considered for a moment before tapping at the screen and putting the kiosk into standby mode. The words "WELCOME TO CITI GATEWAY" flashed on the screen.

"No, I think I'd rather take you up on that drink," he said, then tapped his chin. "Crimson... Crimson... Oh! I remember now. They took control of a station in the Ross 720 then went to quiet while consolidating their position - not much use for us mercs after that, as I recall." He shrugged at her before motioning for her to lead on.
14 Jun 2017, 7:24pm
John retraced the route to the InGaBa he had taken with Jem, and found himself back in front of the same computer terminal he had perused before. A tap at the screen woke the system from standby, and the same job - the one requiring panda pelts - flashed back at him. Making a face, he backed out of that one, then swiped downward, hard. This caused the job entries to scroll by rapidly, and he jabbed at the screen, selecting one at random. The new entry flashed at him, and he tilted his head.

"Just as good as any other," he murmured, and after checking that the Oberth had the required cargo space, pressed the "ACCEPT" key. That done, he turned around and re-entered the docking area.
20 Jun 2017, 6:57pm
Cartlidge jerked suddenly as he woke, his face marked with a red imprint of his palm. Ten was sitting casually on the other end of the bench, deeply engrossed in whatever she was reading.

Swearing, Cartlidge brought his hands to his face. "You let me fall asleep?"

"You haven't slept in at least two days. Your body needed the rest," Ten replied.

"How long have I been sleeping here?"

"Several hours."

Looking at his datapad, Cartlidge swore again, knowing it would be impossible to figure out where the doctor had gone by now. Letting out a sigh of defeat, Cartlidge stood up.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here."
24 Jun 2017, 8:58pm
People of action? Sure. Claire looks up to one, but they lack greater perception and ground mindset. Assuming her views differ to that of Dr. Jones, her definition of the individual is considerably... tasteless.

Doubtful, of course, she scours the bobbing heads below. What do they need? And more importantly, what could an ordinary citizen like her provide? Her escapade into a discovery of potential has been a spiral. The Doctor figuratively failed to help as opposed to literally. His excessive charm rushed her composure, it was difficult to endure yet she appreciated his savory fashion for food. No distaste there. she thought.

o


The Doctor's palate appeared healthy and refined to which their origin puzzled even Claire. The portions were small, he had room for this and that. Wiping his delighted grin at the corners and often flicking his eyes at Claire. He asked if the food were to her taste, she replied with a satisfied nod then sipped her wine. Claire was just glad she chose what sounded like pasta.  


Last edit: 29 Jun 2017, 10:34pm
17 Aug 2017, 10:42pm
The lift doors open, revealing a walkway with people going about their business. John looks to the map displayed on the wall across the way. Noting the direction of the entertainment district, he double-checks his pockets for his data pad and starts walking.

Best fried chicken I've ever had. And the girls they have servin' there? You ain't seen no one like 'em. Mose's words come back to him as he walks in the direction of the recommended eatery. The smells from various food carts reach the commander and cause his stomach to growl. His last few meals of salted fish and unsweetened tea weren't very satisfying. Yes indeed, a large meal of fried goodness would do his tired soul some good.

"Hey, John! John Fool! Where the hell you been, man?"

John looks to his right and sees a man vying for his attention from behind a small booth. A few nearby patrons shuffle aside to give John room to approach. "Hey, uhh yeah sorry. I've been away on business for a while. Something I can help you with?"

"Yeah, you can help me by finally taking your property off my hands. I've racked up close to 100k in hanger fees the past six months!" The man pulls a crumpled slip of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and squints at the faded lettering. "We completed your order within three weeks of you placing it. But we only offered to cover a week of the reserve hanger."

I placed an order...? "Oh, for sure. I'll pay whatever I owe you. If you don't mind though..." John extends his hand, accepting the slip of paper from the merchant. He looks down to see nearly illegible chicken scratch. At the top of the slip though, the words Viper MkIII are identifiable.

"By the way... your new hand looks way more realistic than the last one." The merchant is looking at the hand holding the slip of paper. "I'd almost think it was real if I didn't know better."

John's confusion regarding the situation melts away as the sudden realization of who had placed the order is made clear. Only six months ago? I'm getting closer. He thanks the merchant, keys the necessary payment details into his data pad, and heads back toward the docks.
29 Aug 2017, 1:44am
The search for an appropriate passenger has Claire discouraged. Her frustration grew at the thought of passengers who are invasive, fiddle with things they shouldn't or take the whole ship at gunpoint. No, she wouldn't want a bold person whose daring endeavors meant that they must take the stick, they have to be the hero. A scowl escaped her and imminently appear on the dimmed PDA.

Claire snaps out of thought and leans back seeking into the crowd. The room reflects on the wide window before her. As neat and spacious as it seemed, she can't help but worry about the price. Nothing wrong in indulging for quality of life every now and then but it was time to move easy with the credits she had left; repairs for Cassio, food, souvenirs and a passenger cabin to be fitted. This prompted her fingers to fumble back to her PDA. There has to be someone she can trust for the fly back home.

While her thumb rapidly fling up and down, a contract caught her attention. A woman looking for immediate flight, prefers to meet the pilot before going, friendly and secretive. Contact for meet-up Claire is suspicious that she had no picture, but of course "friendly" was sufficient. Without hesitating she sends a message to the potential client.

Claire: Hello, looking for a pilot? I'm passing by your destination.
N: Yes, meet at Ingaba.

That was quick.

Claire: May I ask how much?

Since you're so hasty.

N: Discuss in person.
Claire: Sure, see you there.

She was glad the meet-up would be in person and at Ingaba, if something was off about "N" there would be plenty of people around if anything were to happen.


Last edit: 30 Aug 2017, 4:55pm
28 Sep 2017, 5:28pm
Phisto follows the young woman out of the elevator. Taking a look around, he breathes in deep and savors the aroma of the common area. He starts slightly, appearing to pick up the same smell as his elevator companion.

Is that... seafood?

Turning to the young woman, he nods in the likely direction of the odor's source. "I think we just found lunch. How about it? My treat." He motions with his hand for her to lead the way.
01 Oct 2017, 2:46pm
The commons area was bustling, filled with people from all walks of life getting on with their daily routine. The height of the ceilings were impressive, enough to fit buildings with a number of floors, some even reaching the floor above (or below, depending on how you orientated yourself) and continuing on into the next level. The smells were intoxicating, food from all over the galaxy mingling together, an appetising mix of savoury aromas that couldn't quite be pinned down until you were close enough to single them out. But one smell prevailed over the rest, seafood.

Citi, orbiting around a water world, was awash with seafood from the planet below. Some native species, some locally farmed species from humanities home worlds. All of them smelled delicious.

"If you're talking about that grilled shellfish smell that just assaulted my face, I think you're right." Dasha replied, sniffing the air as her company spoke about offering to pay. She paused for a minute, thinking over the costs she had just amassed for repair of the Corvid. Taking a meal from a stranger wasn't something she had done for a long time, not since the early days setting out amongst the stars with nothing but a sidewinder and her wits. Still, he didn't seem like a bad person. You never really could tell though, appearances could always be deceiving.

Nodding towards a rather bustling "open air" establishment, Dasha chose not to respond to the comment of pay. Arguing it would have been awkward.

A large collection of tables and benches sprawled a little haphazardly in front of the small building with a large crab-like sign bolted to the front reading "Artie's Seafood Shack". The building itself looked a little run down and seemed to house nothing but a kitchen and an order desk, but the busy seating area showed popularity, which could only mean good things.

"Dasha, by the way. I'm Dasha." she said casually with a smile to her company, introducing herself before finding a place to sit.
01 Oct 2017, 5:49pm
As Dasha found her seat Phisto looked over to the large menu posted above the order desk. Seafood was a rare treat for him, and since spending more and more time on Citi Gateway he was excited to sample the local fare.

He turned to Dasha with a nod and grinned. "My name is Phisto." He cocked his head back at the menu. "What looks good? I'm thinking a couple baskets of the fish and chips."
02 Oct 2017, 3:39am
Caleb stumbled out of the elevator. He had had the bright idea of heading "down," away from the spin axis. As a result, he was having even more trouble walking than before due to the higher gravity, making his goal of finding a place where he could get off of his feet even more urgent.

He spotted a small establishment, practically a cubbyhole in the hallway's wall, that appeared to cater to pilots needing a place to sleep during layovers. Caleb limped unsteadily into the "hotel" as it called itself, and caught the attention of the receptionist manning the desk.

"I'd like a room for the night, please," Caleb asked, slurring the words slightly. The receptionist appeared unfazed by Caleb's drunkenness- presumably he saw a lot of pilots in similar condition. "Just one bed?" he asked. Caleb simply nodded, immediately regretting his action as he swayed slightly on his feet from dizziness. The receptionist took no mind of this, simply asking for payment, after which he left Caleb to ponder how exactly he was going to get to his room, as it- and all the other rooms- was upstairs.

Caleb decided simply to take his time, studiously ignoring the receptionist as he struggled up the stairs. The receptionist, for his part, also ignored Caleb, despite the fact that the inebriated pilot took several minutes to climb them.

Once he arrived at his room, he was well and truly worn out. Not even bothering to undress at all, he simply flopped into the bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
02 Oct 2017, 4:40pm
At the Assay Office, Duke Nigelo quickly filled out a data pad with information regarding a sample to be verified. Once complete, he turned in the data pad along with the sample of nearly luminescent crystal he carried in his tailcoat pocket. It might be several days or a week before the Assayer would be able to verify the sample, though he suspected it might take even longer. With that complete, he left the small office and proceeded to the station Administration office.

The Administrator's office, like most station Administrator's offices, was over-decorated, overly elaborate, and under-efficient. He checked in with the Administrator's assistant, a moderately-attractive-to-someone woman, with an unnecessarily long title that sounded much more impressive that "Station Administrator's Secretary", He took a seat and waited to be called. While he waited, he made mental notes of things he noticed around the office that caught his eye, including the legs of the woman filing forms at the far side of the office.

When he was called, he proceeded to the Administrator's personal office, which, like the rest of the office itself, was overly lavish, done to make station Administrators feel even more important than they actually were in the grand scheme of things.

"Duke Nigelo, what may I do for you?" The station Administrator prompted with all the professional sincerity the job required him to muster.
"Two things, Administrator. First, I have a formal request from the Imperial Ministry of Science." The Duke stated with a matching professional sincerity expected of his station, as he lay the sealed packet on the Administrator's desk.

He gave the Administrator a few minutes to open and review the documents contained therein, though most were were mathematical formulas, charts and diagrams.
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand what the Ministry is asking here.", the Administrator stated and he leafed through the papers.

"To summarize, the Imperial Ministry of Science is asking, that within the next three months, a very minor adjustment to this station's pitch be made, .023 degrees to be exact. I realize this doesn't sound like much of an adjustment, which is why I'm certain there won't be any issue making such an adjustment. The reason for this request is, as I'm sure you're aware, a comet will be passing very close to this station in around three months time. It will pass close enough in fact, that the gravity of the station will have an effect on the comet's trajectory as it continues its path through the galaxy. The pitch adjustment will lessen the effect the station will have on the passing comet, causing it to divert by .014 degrees rather than .022 degrees. Again, these all sound like very small numbers, but the Ministry's long-term projections indicate that, following the original trajectory, the comet's path will, if uncorrected, cause it to pass through the upper atmosphere of an Imperial moon, where agricultural research will be entering its final phase when the comet passes. Passing through the upper atmosphere, the comet will shed fragments, in the case of this particular comet, fragments rich in strontium, which will have an adverse effect on the work at the agricultural center."

The Duke paused a moment, allowing the Administrator to digest what he had just explained before continuing.

"However, by making a very minor pitch adjustment here, before the comet passes, the change in the course of the comet will cause it it to miss the upper atmosphere of the moon, preventing strontium contamination of the atmosphere and disrupting the research being conducted there."

The Administrator sat back in his seat, considering the Duke's explanation.

"Well, your Science Ministry is certainly thorough, aren't they?"

"They certainly are, and I do hope you'll be able to accommodate their request. After all, the adjustment to the station's pitch is quite minor."

"You can let them know I will certainly consider their request. I don't see any issues, and they've certainly provided more than enough evidence to support their position, though I will have to have their findings verified."

"Of course, Administrator. As long as the adjustment can be made within the next three months, and you can restore the station's pitch after the comet passes, or maintain it. Inbound pilots might find the change makes approaching a bit more efficient as well."

"I'll see what we can do. Is there anything else?"

"There is one other matter, more a personal request than anything. You see, I have a very tight schedule to keep, and am needed at regional summit in Facece, which I will just make in time, if you could have flight control clear me for a rapid departure."

"Rapid departure?"

"If I could bypass the departure queue, and final check, you see, I am urgently needed in Facece for a rather pressing mediation between some rather hostile regional governors. The longer they have to wait, the more tensions will rise, and I'd just as soon settle their disputes before the already tense situation degenerates any further and open hostilities start between them. I'm sure you understand."

"I do, however the departure queue is to ensure the safety of all pilots, and those large Imperial Clippers and Cutters..."

"I do understand, Administrator," the DUke interrupted, "but I'm traveling in a Dolphin, and I'll be piloting myself. You see, my regular pilot recently passed away, and if the matter were not so otherwise pressing, I wouldn't even ask."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps there is something I can do, if you could help me out with a little something."

"What might that be?"

"A small donation, to the station's famine relief effort?"

"I can do that. What do you need?"

"Two-hundred fifty thousand credits would get us back on track."

The Duke smiled, and produced a small data pad from his tailcoat pocket. It the bygone era of politics, these sorts of transaction were simply called bribes, but since the advent of deep space travel, and intra-system relations, that terminology had fallen into disuse and disfavor, and had been reclassified as Charitable Donations. The Duke tapped lightly on the pad, authorizing the Bank of Zaonce to transfer credits from his account to Citi Gateway.

"Consider it done, Administrator. Your famine relief efforts are funded."

"Excellent. I'll send a clearance request to flight control, and good luck with your summit. I'm sure your diplomatic prowess will meet with success."

"Thank you, Administrator, I certainly hope so."

With business concluded, the Duke left the Administrator, now a quarter million credits richer, and returned to the elevator. Using his authorization card, he put the elevator into bypass mode, and returned to the Marketplace. There were just a couple more matters to take care of before he departed.

[Continued in The Docks]
05 Oct 2017, 4:32pm
Smiling as the man gave his name, Dasha looked over shoulder towards the menu while trying to find an unoccupied table. Baskets of fish and chips did sound pretty nice, but something else had caught her eye, something she'd not had in a very long time. Her eyes lighting up at the thought, she shouted her order over to Phisto.

"Ohh! Calamari rings!" she grinned, sitting down at a table not far from the outskirts of the seating area. The last time she had eaten Calamari was just after she officially graduated from flight school. Sure she'd been flying for a few years before that, but the registration as a Pilots Federation Commander never hurt.

With a table found, and food on its way, Dasha fired up her holo-display and browsed over the various boards and sites. Everything was focused on one single subject, the "Alien Menace", so much so that even her bounty board feed was nothing but a trickle of low priority local vagabonds. They were no rumour after all... The galaxy really was at a tipping point.

Scowling at the events unfolding over the networks, Dasha flipped to the social boards to see the same stories floating through. Search and Rescue, unknown terrors, wreckage like never before. This could be bad.
06 Oct 2017, 3:57am
Phisto flashed a thumbs up back in Dasha's direction as he got in line to order. Breathing in deep, he savored the rich aroma of fried food. While his home planet had some smaller oceans, they were not known for an abundance of properly edible seafood. The waters were too hot and acidic to properly support life, he was told. Needless to say, since traveling the Bubble he'd grown quite fond of ocean born delights.

His mind wandered to his early days, fresh out of Pilot's Federation orientation. The old timer that taught his class had pulled him aside and offered to buy him lunch. When pressed, the man had simply responded, "Everyone needs a little pick me up now and again. Especially early on."

As he ordered his thoughts turned back to Dasha. Clearly a fellow Commander, she reminded him of himself all those years ago: worn, beat up, but still a bundle of naive energy. He shrugged to himself, paid for their meals, and then walked back towards Dasha.

Arriving at their table he placed Dasha's food in front of her. Taking his own seat he quickly picked up a piece of fried fish and grinned wide. He nodded up at Dasha. "Whatcha reading?"
09 Oct 2017, 4:26pm
As the lift arrivd at its destination, Luke braced against the wall for support. The increased gravity was already having an effect on his healing leg and he was seriously considering buying a cane for use in the meantime. Making his way through the crowds, his limp was more pronounced and he stumbled on several occasions as he bumped and jostled with people not paying attention to where they were going.

Finding himself at a food court, he decided it would be a good idea to grab a quick bite before heading to the bar, and so he pulled up a chair outside a small cafe. Placing his order with a nearby waitress he pulled out his dataslate once again and began perusing the bounty board and mission requests, specifically from Inara Nexus. It was tempting to run some passenger missions, but the Googleplex was still being repaired several systems over and would likely not be ready for a long while.

In fact, the crew that took delivery of it had thought it would just be getting scrapped, even going so far as to bring out the scrap metal crew to requisition what they could. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, forking over a very large sum of Credits to insist the whole thing was repaired and replaced where necessary.

The images of his unfortunate return from Colonia and Sgr A* flashed through his mind and he buried his face in his hands to stop himself from screaming out loud.
10 Oct 2017, 7:19pm
A ping sounded from his Dataslate that grabbed Lukes attention and bringing him out from behind his hands.

INGABA
-E < 3


*"E"..? Who was... Oh!!* A grin spread over his face. *Ellie*

Meeting her on the edge of the bubble on the way back was an, uplifting experience. Last he'd seen of her she was sound asleep as he snuck out of her ship. He had left his contact info with her, but wasn't expecting anything to come of it. How did she know he was in Citi Gateway though? Didn't matter. Maybe she was just hoping for the best?

His eyes caught an icon signifying an attached file to the message. His curiosity piqued and he opened it up.

*Wow... Umm...* He cleared his throat to disguise his sudden discomfort and promptly switched off the screen just as a waitress arrived with his order.

"Can.. Can I be a pain and get this to go instead?" He asked a bit nervously. The waitress gave a short quizzical look then smiled and went off to bag his order, returning a moment later to collect payment. Giving it over, he rose from his seat and slid his Dataslate into his rucksack before slinging it over his shoulder and heading for the bar, chewing on what was supposedly a sausage and egg roll. Despite his limp, he had a bit of a spring in his step now.

>Continued in The Galactic Bar<

Post a reply

You must be signed in to post here.
ROLEPLAY ONLY! Respect the universe settings!
If you are new here, please try to at least partially involve in the ongoing stories and conversations instead of establishing a completely different "arc". You can always turn it to a different story later.