Drinks and Economics
Drinks and Economics
Summary: Drinks, rumors, and discussion of the fleet's grim supply situation.
Date: 95 ACH
Related Logs: None

Corinne is sitting at the bar, a glass of burbon, half-empty, by her elbow. She looks introspective.

Its been a while since Paris was by the lounge, but it doesn't diminish the sense of casual familiarity that he projects as he ambles in. A quick glance here and there, but his objective is clearly the bar, and he quickly makes his way there. A signal to the tender when he arrives, and the man's drink arrives fairly quickly after, golden-brown liquid in a rocks glass. He lifts it, takes a sip, and then glances down the bar. Corinne, of course, is fairly recognizable. Given her thoughtful expression, he just contents himself to watch her, for a few moments, before ambling down to say hello. "Hey," he offers with a salute of his glass. "How's the 'biz?"

Corinne glances down the bar at the voice, lifting her own glass to mirror Paris' gesture. Her smirk is distant, thoughtful. "That remains to be seen. Show's in a few days." She takes a sip. "How about you?"

"Oh yeah? Well, it pulled in a great crowd last time, I'm sure it'll be fine." Paris is encouraging! Although he continues to regard the woman in a way that somewhat reflects her own distant look, if perhaps a little more curious. "Though I guess traffic to the ships from the military folk has been down since the incident." He puts one elbow on the bartop, leaning a little weight on it. "Things are kind of up and down. Dead quiet on the Destiny. But the tight rationing, the dwindling supplies have made for some good business. Good while it lasts, anyway - until everyone runs out and we're eating cardboard."

Nicholas has arrived.

Corinne sets her glass down, leaning into her folded arms on the bar, her head turned in Paris' direction. "Yeah. I'm hoping it picks up a little, there's nothing I hate worse than performing for a scant audience. It makes me feel like…" She makes a general gestuire with her hand as she attempts to come up with an analogy. "I don't know. A stripper at two in the afternoon." She rubs at the back of her neck, then squints her shrewd blue-grey eyes at Paris, considering something.

Nicholas pulls open the door to Spotlights, carrying a few sheets of folded paper in hand as he heads into the place. Tapping the folded side against his palm he starts for the bar, with a brief pause along the way to speak to someone seated alone at a table. Smiles are exchanged and a brief handshake, and he continues on his way.

"Hey, I make sure the strippers have business at all times of day!" Yeah, at times, it seems like Paris lives in there. He's at the bar, naturally, drink in hand, and chatting amiably with Ms. Cougar. "But I get what you mean. Its not a show without an audience. And things have been pretty dead. I dunno whether to be happy I don't have military people breathing down my neck all the time, or worry over the loss of business." When Nicholas approaches, he lifts a hand in greeting. "Yo."

Corinne's gaze follows Paris' as Nicholas arrives, and she gives the promoter a lazy smile of greeting. Her attention flits back to Paris. "I might need to do some business with you soon, come to think of it. I just get so awfully tired sometimes…" Her eyes roll dramatically towards the ceiling, and she pats a hand over a feigned yawn. "If you have anything that will keep me alert and energized." Her tone is lowered, naturally.

"Hello sweetheart," Nicholas speaks as he approaches the bar. "And Corinne." He flashes a brilliant smile, slightly teasing as usual, but it fades. "What a trying day."

Mention of business, of course, piques a different sort of interest in Paris than the usual dirty-minded sort. "Yeah?" He waits a moment, curious what exactly she might need. A slight nod after she actually explains. "Doable, probably," he answers in a nonchalant way. He glances back toward Nick and can't help from grinning at the greeting. "You too? Seems like we're all in a bit of a funk." He hoists his glass. "Nothing like a depressant to drive the blues away."

"Good," Corinne answers Paris with a pleasant enough smile on her face, before she turns to really look at Nicholas. "What's going on with you?" she asks, not bothering to lift her glass towards anything but her mouth.

"Had my ear to the bubblings around the fleet today." Nicholas shakes his head slightly, dropping the folded papers onto the bar counter. "Military's in quite the tizzy. Can't say I blame them. And what's on with the two of you?"

Paris takes a sip, and likewise a few moments to watch the other two interact. But he cuts back in when Nick gets to what's likely a more pressing subject. "Yeah I'm not surprised things are a little chaotic. Can't say I really know what was going on - you think they had a mutiny or something?" He'll cut right to the rumormongering! "I mean one second we have military people rushing around the Carina, and some weird rumors for them about people staying here on permanent leave, of people deserting and crazy stuff like that, and then there's that announcement out of nowhere. I figure something big had to have happened - the guy doesn't just drop dead for no reason." Plus, mutinies are more fun to gossip over than logical things like heart attacks.

Nicholas sighs. "I know, isn't it just awful?" And by 'awful', clearly his tone means 'awfully interesting'. "I have no idea. I'm sure I know what they'll do, though. They'll give us some bland statement about how they can't talk about it, and some other asshole will take over the fleet who's either a corrupt wanker or a bleeding heart who'll get us all killed. I swear the military hasn't got a balanced man among them."

Paris can't entirely supress a laugh at the other man's tone, and quickly nods his agreement. "Its fishy, that's for sure." And yet another nod. "Yeah, that all sounds about right. Don't expect to ever get the real story. But I figure it's gotta be something like that. The timing is just… its just too convenient for it to be something random. And I didn't see any cylons around to do the shooting." WIth his glass lowered, held beneath his hand, he slides it around a little. "Course once that fuss died down, its back to things being awful quiet around here."

Corinne has left.

"For now." Nicholas draws in a breath, eyes narrowing a little as he looks around Spotlights. "Have you been watching all this dry up, Paris? Back home if the supply lines were cut you just…went around them. Traded under the table, got your goods from whoever was selling without permission. Now the supply lines are cut, and, well. There's just no more supply." His mouth draws into a line. "I may not be privy to every list of items we have in this fleet but it doesn't take an accountant to know we're running out of time."

No immediate answer, but Paris is obviously considering the question, staring into his glass as he pushes it around. "Oh, things are definitely running low. Right now, I'm doing good business, because everyone is desperate and I have a little stocked up I can leverage. Surprising what I can trade a couple smokes for." Signal the other shoe: "But its not gonna last. Its gonna get to the point soon where eveything seizes up, where people are hoarding what they have and there's no margin to do business in. And then… yeah, I figure after that, we gotta wonder how long it is until things -really- run out, and until the military types start deciding who's worth rationing to."

"What makes you think they aren't already deciding it?" Nicholas asks, raising an eyebrow. "Commodities are power, far moreso than money. Then again the military doesn't control it all. The Destiny alone has more by way of supplies than the military does on both its ships. Granted if Salizar actually decided to throw some negotiating weight around, the Genesis would likely storm in and take it over, but…"

"Sure," Paris agrees, lifting his glass for another drink. "I just mean when it gets to the point that we stop getting stuff." He's contemplative. "Its -our- power, so long as we can hold on to it. Apart from the living supplies on the two big ships, there's the tylium ship as well. What we gotta be sure is that we're not ready to just hand it over when they come asking."

Nicholas shrugs one shoulder. It's a graceful, slow motion. "Salizar is the Destiny's captain. Their population trusts him far moreso than any military storming about. The Genesis takes that for granted with every day that goes by."

"You're right, he's good people. We just gotta make sure we don't let 'em bully us around. I mean, they've got guns, sure. But what, are they gonna start blowing up their own supplies?" Paris sighs, rather long and exaggerated. "Either way, it won't be long until I'm pretty much out of business. Gotta make the most of the crazy hoarding when it happens, I guess."

"Blowing them up? No. Demanding them, yes." Nicholas frowns, flicking the edge of his papers with his thumb. "But there is little we can do."

Corinne has arrived.

Its clear Paris is in something of a discontented mood. "Could make it trouble for them if we put our minds to it, hold the stuff hostage, basically." A sigh. "But yeah, in the long run its not a lot of good options. No matter who gets what its a finite supply anyway." Another sip. "Wonder if they've got any plans to try and resupply. Find some planet with at least some vegetable life on it or something." Thoughtfully, "Though I guess if we had that we might not even need to bother with the ship. Ah well." He smirks. "Guess I can have some fun with it, until it runs out and we all starve."

Corinne stepped into her dressing room to 'freshen up' - one can take that how one will. She reemerges, indeed looking refreshed, and retakes her seat at the bar, casting a glance between Nicholas and Paris.

Nicholas smiles a little at Paris and settles his hip against the bar as Corinne reappears. "Darling, welcome back. I missed you."

As the liquid at the bottom of Paris' glass dwindles, he holds it up to the light. A metaphor for their whole situation, contained within the glass. As he's doing this, Corinne comes back from her freshening, her image distorted before he lowers the glass again. "We've just been discussing the end of life as we know it," he informs her.

"I would have missed me too," Corinne informs Nicholas, leaning over to pat at his hand twice. She resumes drinking her drink, letting the glass linger at her lips as she considers Paris' words. "Is it a bang, or a whimper?" she asks, finally lowering the drink.

"Depends what we make of it, now isn't it," Nicholas smiles at Corinne, winking at the hand-pat. He glances at Corinne's drink as though contemplating attempting to steal it, then promptly forgets about it. "You know what our problem is, aside from general poor taste in ties? We're inefficient. The vast majority of us are consuming without producing."

Corinne covets her glass during that small length of time that Nicholas' eyes are on it. As he speaks, one darl brow angles upwards slightly, and she mulls it over with another sip. "I produce," she says after a moment. "I just can't help it that my product is ephemeral. And I'm not about to take up brewing bathtub booze to compensate." She wags a finger, but regards the drink in her hand with a certain wistfulness. The next sip she takes, she savors.

"I think you can imagine my preference between those two," Paris answers Corinne, grinning. "I'm thinking, when things are too low for there to be any hope, we should just throw a big party. Screw conservation, may as well go out with a real 'bang'." Dirty fellow. Nicholas' comment is weighed a bit more contemplatively. "Well, sure, you're right," he has to agree. "But what's anyone gonna produce? We don't have a full economy. We have a stock of supplies, but none of your favorite Aerelon farm girls to churn out the basic foodstuffs. Heck, we don't have much in the way of materials unless we want to start cutting into the bulkheads."

Nicholas smirks at the farm girl comment. "Maybe we should cut into the bulkheads. The Carina has a capacity of ten thousand people," he says, looking between them. "It has about three thousand now, give or take. The Destiny has 4500 or so. We waste fuel every day with shuttles going back and forth between them. It would be tighter and Salizar would piss himself, but…what if we unloaded the Destiny to the Carina and stripped the Destiny's fuel and materials?"

Corinne can't hide her expression when Nicholas mentions possibly stripping the Destiny. Alarm and offense mingle with worry, and for a moment the lines on her face cease to be faint. She almost says something, but drowns whatever it was by draining her drink. With the hollow thud of the glass on the bar, she stands.

Paris isn't really the type to get too sentimental over a ship, it seems, and nods at Nick's estimation. "Yeah, you're right. It'd cause a heck of stir though, and…" It doesn't take long for the frown to return. "It wouldn't help with the food problem. Hard to get past that block. Its the base of any economy - people gotta eat so they have the energy to live, to work, to do all the other stuff. All the steel and tylium in the world won't change that."

Obviously Nicholas isn't attached to one floating hunk of metal over another either. "It wouldn't help with the food. But it would help with steel and fuel. Not doing means neither problem is helped. Not that I have the authority for it, so this is a moot point anyway." He rubs the bridge of his nose and smirks. "Though I'm flattered that Corinne seems to think I can accomplish such a thing."

"By yourself, no," Corinne replies, reaching up to pull her hair into a haphazard ponytail. "But you pitch the idea to the right person, and it's Bye Bye Blackbird, I'd bet." She takes in a breath, then straightens a bit of her halter's neckline. "Excuse me. I need to find Ronnie."

"True," Paris will agree, simply. "Still, I hope someone is working on the food problem. That's gonna get real ugly real fast, I think." The little exchange between the other two is not one he's going to join in, however. "I'll catch you around," he offers Corinne, with the subtle or not-so subtle undercurrent of her outstanding order with him left unsaid.

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Nicholas says to Corinne, well aware of the irony of that coming from him. He glances at his fingernails. "But go on, flounce off if you like. I'll see you later, my dear, " A nod to Paris. "Yes, I know. Well, we can take some comfort in knowing that military isn't going to let itself starve to death, and therefore probably not us either."

"Yes, I'll see you," Corinne replies to Paris with the faint flash of a smile. Nicholas? Nicholas who? Corinne turns on her heel and walks out of Spotlights, her hair tumbling out of its ponytail along the way.

Corinne has left.

A parting look after Corinne and a slow nod from Paris. "That would be the logical way of thinking about it, yeah. Lets hope they actually live up to it for once, eh?" He pushes his glass back across the counter. "Alright, guess I'm gonna go see what business I can scrape up among the desperate masses."

Nicholas smiles a little. "Yes indeed. Oh, and do update me soon on that little matter of the information I gave you?" He slides off the barstool.

"Eh, I can tell you what I've got, but it ain't much - basically I found a guy but he says he can't make much sense of it." Paris stands up, shrugging a bit as he gets himself ready. "Figured I'd give him some time with it, see if he can make progress on the crypto. I dunno." He sounds less than enthusiastic about it. After that, he swivels and heads out, offering a parting, "I'll catch you later."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License