Mixed Nuts
Mixed Nuts
Summary: An evening in Spotlights. New faces, introductions, baffling drinks, and bad jokes.
Date: 101 ACH
Related Logs: None

Spotlights Carina - Pyr Hotel
101 ACH 23797 Souls

In the sea of sports, there is a small island of non sports related propaganda. That is Spotlights. Hearkening back to bygone days of flatscreen projected images as entertainment, Spotlights is a dim place, the intimate tables never holding more than four people. The low lighting is broken from time to time by its namesake, occasionally a cone of light sweeping slowly through the area, though the effect on the air, laden with a harmless mist generator is more of the beam of the light visible than shining harshly on anyone. The air is quiet, with the occasional lone piano music heard drifting through the air. The bar is polished glass and chrome, catching and reflecting the light when the two meet, otherwise the subdued offset lights give the place a sensual glow. One wall holds a low curtained stage, which at times draws back, and the spotlights fade, and a classic film plays at scheduled times. The bar serves drinks and food, though the emphasis is on the drinks, and the food is limited. All the glassware is sparkling clean and of crystal. Martini glasses, whiskey tumblers, daiquiri glasses and Brandy Snifters, Spotlights has it all.

Nicholas is sitting alone at Spotlights, having commandeered a entire booth for one person. On the table is only a tumbler of clear liquid that has no bubbles and no lime twist. Perhaps it's just water. Legs crossed, settled back, he flips through a large folder braced in the crook of his arm.

Kevin Reidel enters and a small smile comes to his face. The dimness of this place is perfect. He had already attracted some stares and some curious looks on his way to this place. Even though the old addage was any publicity is good publicity, there were certain rules that he liked to follow. Glancing around a little, Kevin slides up to an empty spot at the bar and orders a drink. There is a bit of apprehension on his face, he isn't quite used to things yet, and anytime someone looks his way he wonders if the first thing that comes to their mind is "Hey, that's the guy from those funny comedy Vids!" and chat him up about the subject matter of those comedy vids.

Nicholas flips a page in the folder, a beautiful glossy photo of a woman in sepia tones that's clearly promotional. He smiles a touch as he taps it with his thumb and then lays it flat atop the others. Drawing the sort of breath that could only be called bored, he looks up and towards the other tables, then the bar. People have come and gone since the last time he looked.

Kevin takes the drink and downs it all in matter of seconds. Yeah, he's got to get over this somehow. He takes a deep breath and thinks. He grabs a napkin and starts to jot down a few jokes. It's all he has right now really is to come up with some way to make himself laugh. He writes down one and smiles to himself and turns to a patron next to him. "Hey buddy, we know the only good cylon is a dead cylon, but did you hear that they make good lovers too? No, it's true. I kid you not. As they say, 'Once you've had steel, you'll always squeal!'." The guy, who is probably drunk, ends up laughing at this rediculous joke.

Nicholas tips his head slightly, his light eyes giving the man at the bar a bemused look. He closes the folder over his fingers, letting it rest on his knee, and motions to a waiter. As he waits for the man to draw near he scribbles something on a torn sheet of paper.

Corinne emerges from the dressing room, her stride purposeful and pointed right towards the bar. Approaching the bartender, she leans in with her hands folded on the surface. Hello, cleavage. She crooks a finger at the tender, beckoning him close. "You know what I like, and that's what I want. Can't we just not water it down, and say we did?" She arches one dark brow.

Kevin goes ahead and turns back to the bartender and orders himself another drink. While not the best of efforts, it felt a bit good to laugh about something again, and of course, make someone else laugh. After getting the drink, he takes a sip and then works on writing down another joke or two, even if their terrible it helps build his creative juices again.

Nicholas hands the folded sheet of paper to the waiter as the uniformed young man passes by. A smile and small tip go with it. "Oh, Corinne," he calls across the short distance between himself and the edge of the bar. "Don't bother with ordering scotch, that's worth at least a blowjob by now. Go with the gin." The waiter, meanwhile, slips up to Kevin and passes him the note.

Corinne makes quite the show of eyeing up the bartender after Nicholas' comment. "I'll have a scotch," she says, without missing a beat. The man across the bar grins crookedly, then reaches for the single remaining bottle of the stuff. "Just put it on Nick's tab." She jerks a thumb in the direction of the promoter, and the bartender stops. Slowly, he replaces the bottle on the rack. "You know what? Just get me a glass of water."

Raises an eyebrow as the bartender gives him a note. Quickly he scans the note and cocks his head to the side. He hmmm's quietly to himself before writing a brief response and instructing it be sent back to whomever sent it to him. In the meantime he catches an eye of Corinne and tips his head to her, and offers a smile. Always pays to be kind to the ladies, it's his motto.

Nicholas rolls his eyes dramatically at the bartender and tsks. "Corinne, come and keep me company. It's chilly over here." He tosses his folder on the table and looks up as the waiter returns with Reidel's note. The response makes him smile and he scribbles something back to be carried over. This is starting to look suspiciously like sixth grade.

Corinne collects her water from a very dejected looking bartender, then meanders over to Nicholas as the waiter brings back a note for the promoter. She glances in Reidel's direction, returning his smile with a quick one of her own. "Did he check yes or no?" she wonders aloud of Nick.

Kevin gets the note and nods. Finishing off his glass, he stands up and heads towards Nicholas and Corinne. He offers a smirk to the man, "I feel like a young kid trying to keep secrets with other kids on-set with the tutors. Seems you know my name already but would still be rude of me not to at least still make the introduction. Kevin Reidel." He extends his hand to Corinne first (ladies first and all), before doing the same with Nicholas.

"Yes, apparently," Nicholas tells Corinne with a brilliant smile. "Sit, darling. There's plenty of room, and we have a celebrity guest." He gets that out before Reidel reaches the table, and turns his attention to the new man, waiting his turn for a handshake. "Mr. Reidel, it's a pleasure. Nicholas Luma. I can't say I'm terribly familiar with the comedy circuit as it was, but I do remember your face. What a surprise."

Corinne shakes Reidel's hand, then withdraws it to regard Nicholas with both brows arched. "Oh?" Turning to look at Reidel, she sweeps her light gaze up and down the man before tilting her head. "Comedian?" she inquires.

"Sort-of, kind-of." He gives her a grin, "I've done my share of comedy vids and comedy short vids, if you will. But it feels like it was a million years ago to be honest with you. But definitely a pleasure to meet you Mr. Luma, and please call me Kevin." He takes a seat and glances at the folder, "Do you own this joint?"

"My goodness, no." Nicholas waves a hand. "Merely keep it in business. I set up their entertainment, is all. Corinne here is a regular performer, perhaps you've seen her? Our lovely songbird."

"That's me," Corinne replies, her tone sardonic to match her smile. She has a long sip of her water, then places the glass on the table before finally settling in next to Nicholas. She takes her time in getting comfortable.

Kevin taps his chin with his finger. "I honestly can't say that I have. But things have been a bit of a blur, I'm afraid. I'll have to catch a future performance though, I enjoy a wide range of music, so I'm sure I can find an appreciation for her talents, artistically speaking."

"Oh, lovely." Nicholas gives Reidel a pleasant smile. "I think you'd well enjoy yourself. Unless you're one of those performers who can't stand to watch another on the stage." He touches his fingertips to his temple and grimaces. "My gods, I knew too many of those."

Isabeau comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Isabeau has arrived.

Something about this conversation darkens Corinne's expression somewhat, but she doesn't say anything. She continues to sit, listen, and sip at her water as if it were some alcoholic beverage. Old habits die hard, it would seem.

Kevin returns the comment with a bit of a shrug. "Yeah there are, or were, people like that, but that's not how I view things. If it's good, it's good. Why look at it any differently? People who nitpick others are most likely nitpicking things they aren't comfortable with themselves."

Nicholas smiles. "Well said, Mr. Re-…er, Kevin." He looks over at Corinne, reaching over to pat her hand in sympathy. Perhaps he knows her various expressions too well. Looking back at Reidel he asks, "So were you up here on a performance circuit? Or…?"

The door to the club opens and Isabeau steps in. She looks around, her eyes taking a moment or two to adjust to being indoors rather than the artificial evening deepening outside. Stepping in a few more paces, she notices a cluster of people yonder and; after a moment's indecision, angles toward them.

Reidel shakes his head, "Really I was on a vacation of sorts. We were going to start filming in a few months so before the stresses of a filming schedule began I wanted to get a bit of R&R in. Booked a room on the Destiny under an assumed name and well, things sorta went from there. Sorta held up in my room for a bit, going out here and there, but mostly just trying to cope with everything that happened."

"An assumed name?" Corinne asks, lowering her water. "My. He must be quite famous." She turns her head to smile pleasantly at Nicholas as she says this.

Nicholas leans over to say to Corinne in stage-whisper, "You still have better breasts than him, dearheart." Straightening up again he gives Reidel a nod. "Understandable. What a shock it was to everyone. Goodness, no use using past tense, is there…what a shock it still is. Well, that you've made it from Destiny to the Carina is a fine step. I know some people who still haven't even made it out of their apartments after three months."

Kevin shrugs, "It's more for safety reasons. I hate traveling around with security like some folks do and there are some really… dedicated… fans out there. Perhaps you saw my first major Vid: "Stop, Drop, and Toast?" There've been others sure, but that one was always my favorite. I can understand it if you haven't heard of me, not everyone has the same sense of humor. Maybe you heard of my father, Tychen Reidel? He was in far more vids than I could have ever hoped to have been in."
He turns to Nicholas and nods solemnly. "That's sort of where I was at. But thinking about it, and seeing the somberness that people are still having over things, I've sort of come to this realization that I needed to get started living or get started dying. Morbid perhaps, but it serves me no good to hole up in a room, no matter how comfortable it is, while there are people working hard at trying to keep the same standard of living going."

Nearing the cluster of people, Isabeau slows in her approach as her gaze plays over each of them. Finally, she settles on the one person she knows. Clearing her throat, she takes one more step forward before speaking, "Excuse me, Mr. Luma." As she speaks, her eyes remain upon the man, though when she finishes, they flicker from face to face, "All. Would you mind if I join you? Or…?"

"I'm impressed, is all," Corinne answers Kevin, turning that pleasant smile back onto him. As the tragedy is discussed, that expression fades, and she refocuses on her water. A sip is taken, and she makes a face. "Gin it is," she informs Nicholas, sliding out of her seat. Glancing at Isabeau as she rises, she gestures to the spot she just vacated. "By all means. Nick'll get chilly without someone next to him, and I'm going to take a trip up to the bar. Be right back."

Corinne leaves for Dressing Rooms [DR].
Corinne has left.

"I've heard of your father, of course." Nicholas gives Reidel a smaller, but no less friendly smile. "I'm sure I've seen your vids…you'll have to excuse me, I've a terrible memory for film. But I do agree with you." He draws a breath, running his fingertip along the edge of the table to mop up a tiny drop of water. "What was that old poem's ending…'The first day after a death, the new absence / Is always the same; we should be careful / Of each other, we should be kind / While there is still time.'" His eyes flicker up to Isabeau and he smiles. "Miss Aragon, please. Do sit down."

"Sounds fitting." Kevin nods. He smiles to the woman joining the table. "Ms Aragon is it? I am Kevin Reidel, a pleasure to meet you." He thinks a moment and glances back to Nicholas. "I'm tempted to offer up a show for the military folks as a way to kind of say thanks for doing what they do. Might need help in getting it set up. Some stand-up comedy, nothing hard hitting but.. " A pause as he thinks, "Maybe stuff like: 'So a woman reports her husband missing to the authorities. When asked if there were any messages to give him when they found him, the woman responds with: "Yes, tell him Mother didn't come after all."'."

[Intercom] Attention! Set Condition Three throughout the fleet.

Isabeau nods a quiet smile to Corinne, then to Nicholas, "Thank you. Both. I do hope that I am not intruding?" The vacated seat is claimed, the woman curling into it like a cat claiming a particularly sunny ledge. Turning to Kevin, she inclines her head just a bit, "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Reidel." Lifting her hand, she brushes a lock of hair back from her shoulder and eases back to listen. One corner of her lips twitches into a faint smile, though it goes no farther than that, "I am sure that they would appreciate it." Her gaze slips to Nicholas, "Would you like to sort it out? I can assist, I think. If you wish."

Nicholas smiles politely at the joke. He settles back on the booth seat, crossing his legs. "I think they would well enjoy that, Kevin. We haven't had anything lighthearted in weeks, to tell you the truth. I do admire you; such courage it takes to do stand-up. I would well faint." He chuckles and motions to some vague space between his two companions. "I'm so sorry. Isabeau Aragon y Castile de Vargas, this is Kevin Reidel, and vice versa." He says with mock-whisper to Kevin then, splaying one hand close to the table. "Miss Aragon is a lawyer, so keep those jokes under the table for now."

He smirks, "A lawyer huh? Oh man. I can run a quick one by you at least!" He gives a little cough to adjust his throat. "A lawyer named Strange died, for his epitaph his friends suggested the following: "Here lies Strange, an honest man, and a lawyer.". The inscriber felt that would be too confusing for most people so he suggested an alternative, to simply put "Here lies a man who was both honest and a lawyer." So when anyone walked by they would say, "That's Strange!". And that's just one of the more lame ones if you will! But, on a more serious note, if something could be worked out I'd be glad to do it. If anything people can laugh at me acting like a complete fool, and it'd do 'em good."

Magus comes in from Hotel Entrance.
Magus has arrived.

Isabeau half smiles at Nicholas, "Oh, that is quite alright. But, thank you." Turning to the comedien, she nods, "A lawyer, yes." She tilts her head to one side, her expression faintly curious. When he finishes the joke, she smiles, "Congratulations, Mr. Reidel, that is one that I had not heard, yet. It is clever." She looks between the two men, then refocuses on Kevin. The three are seated at a booth, somewhere in the club. "Do you know why the crocodiles in the swamps of Tauran did not eat the lawyer when a boat submirged?"

Nicholas pretends to wince at Kevin's gag this time, but it's goodnatured. "I'm sure I don't know," he tells Isabeau, smirking. "Why?" He picks up the simple glass of water he'd been working on, taking a sip.

Kevin grins at the woman. "I faintly recall, but I for the life of me can't get it off my tongue, go ahead and refresh my mind." Lawyers telling lawyer jokes, always one of those things that you have to let happen.

The door to the Spotlight is pushed open slowly, allowing the light from outside to spill in from outside, and a new patron enters in. His clothing instantly marks him as a member of the Genesis crew, dressed in their Olive-Green duty uniform, but has a leather satchel slung over his shoulder — an item which looks quite full. Just inside the door Magus pauses for a moment, letting his pale eyes wander across his new dimly lit surroundings, his lips pressing together into a thin line as he does.

Isabeau smiles, though it is a limited thing of no real duration, "You are now humoring me, sir. But, the answer is: Professional Courtesy." She slips a glance to Nicholas, a twinkle almost hidden in the depth of her gaze. It does not linger, for she turns to glance over at the bar, "I think that I will get a glass of water. Would either of you like a refill?" Her gaze flickers over Magus, though she does not seem to recognize the man.

"Hah." Nicholas snorts under his breath. "That's just awful." Another sip of water and he shakes his head. "No thank you, I'm perfect…" He glances past Isabeau as she looks at Magus, assessing the man. Then to Kevin he comments, "Up for a little test, then? A military specimen, even in uniform. Can you make him laugh?"

He laughs at the joke, "Yea, I've heard that one but it's much more amusing coming from the mouth of a lawyer. I'm afraid I myself actually need to be heading out." Kevin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pen. Writing down on a slip of paper, he slides it in the direction of Nicholas. "This is my contact information. We should definitely discuss options about what I proposed plus maybe some other stuff as well." He smiled and arose from the booth. "It was a pleasure meeting the both of you, I bid you both a good night." He turned towards the entrance, nodding to the military man as he passes him by.

Reidel has left.

Magus steps away from the door, his booted feet falling lightly upon the floor, as not to break the quiet atmosphere of this place. His hand wanders across the wooden table as he passes by, a rare sight to him these days — the Genesis a world of cold grays and steel. His legs carrying him in the direction of the bar, and when he gets there he looks over to the bartender — his gaze focusing somewhere beyond the man. "Hey Chief, what's this place got left on tap? First timer here."

Isabeau pauses to let Kevin past, "It was good to meet you, sir." For a moment, she watches the celebrity walk out the door, then turns to Nicholas, "Do you suppose I should have asked for his autograph?" A brow lifts, lingers for a moment, then returns. She rises, finally, and walks across the floor toward the bar. The bartender is busy talking to Magus, so she folds her hands and waits her turn.

"Oh, he'll be around," Nicholas waves a hand easily, then picks up the paper Reidel left. It gets slipped into his pocket. "A performer never loses the desire to perform. He'll be back onstage in no time." He settles again, comfortably, and looks idly towards the bar as Isabeau heads there. The bartender lists off some items to Magus, some of which are new concoctions dreamt up with their dwindling stores in mind. Some sound potentially lethal.

Magus stares blankly at the bartender as the list is rattled off, and then blinks once as the man finishes. "Surprise me." He intones deeply, wetting his lips afterwards, and then adds, "Don't tell me the name. I dont wana know." It is probably best that way for the Raptor Pilot. Hearing the approach of Isabeau, he glances back over his shoulder towards the lawyer. His frozen blue eyes look into hers briefly, but really seem to focus beyond her. "Ma'am," he says politely with a nod — looking back forward. "Suddenly, I feel very underdressed." He says to no one in particular, as the bartender finishes his drink.

Isabeau listens to the bartender spout of drink names that wander from the sublime to the rediculous. Magus is given a look when he turns her way. "Sir." The bartender lifts his chin toward Isabeau and she speaks to him, "Water, please. No ice." As that is simple, she is passed a glass quickly. "Thank you." Turning to the pilot, she adds, "Luck with the drink. You are braver than I." He is given another nod and Isabeau makes her way back to the booth and reclaims her seat. "I suppose so. I understand that performing is in the blood."

"So they say," Nicholas replies to Isabeau, lofting both long brows with amusement. "Let's hope talent is as well, hmm?" He glances over at Magus and the bartender, as said tender mixes the drink somewhere Magus can't see it. Safer that way. Once the glass is plunked in front of the pilot, Nicholas comments wryly, "Sometimes helps if you light it on fire for a second or two."

Magus's gaze wanders back to Isabeau at her offer of encouragement, and he nods his head slightly — a thin smile quirking up the corners of his lips. The drink is slid down to him, but the Pilot's gaze follows the lawyer back to the table — though he doesn't leer at her. Just watches for a moment. Looking back to the drink, his attention is caught by Nicholas, and grabbing the drink he moves over towards the table. "I feel like being dangerous, Sir." He offers softly, the words falling from his lips slowly. "Mind if I sit and have a drink here with you two? Drinkin' alone is the second step towards alcoholism. The first one is the end of the world." He drolls with dark humor, but adds a little more lightly a moment later. "If'n it's a private conversation, I'll find a nice place to sit and drink this fuel."

Isabeau says, "We can hope. He has his timing down, I will give him that much." She lifts the drink to her lips, though only takes a sip. Looking up as the pilot approaches, she pauses. She might answer the man's query, but turns to the gentleman sharing the table with her, "It is fine with me, if you do not mind, Mr. Luma." Returning her attention to the pilot, she twitches a quiet, briefly ghosted smile, "Ah, yes. Myriad social and private catastrophies can be laid at the feet of apocalypse. Please, sit. Unless Mr. Luma objects, of course.""

"No, no, no." Nicholas waves off any objection with an easy tone. "Have a seat. Private discussions are best left for someplace other than bars, and this third seat seems particularly oiled to revolve tonight. Your turn, sir."

Magus nods his head ever so slightly, accepting the 'invitation' which he went and garnered. "I think we all brought our own social and private catastrophies to the appocalypse." Says the Raptor Pilot, in a little more thoughtful tones, as he takes a seat — the drink sat in front of him. "Still, I don't think liver poisoning, or alcoholism is what the Fates have in mind for me…"

Isabeau leans back slightly, her gaze flashing between the two, then settling on Magus, "I am Isabeau Aragon de Castile y Vargas. Welcome to the Carina." Her tone is light, quiet, with an authoritative edge to it, "This is Mr. Nicholas Luma." It is her turn to manage introductions, then. Lifting a hand, she offers it to the pilot, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Nicholas is eyeing the drink rather than Magus, suspiciously. "My gods, what did Henry put in that. Have a sip of that and let me know if you can still feel your tongue."

"Miss Vargas, Mister Luma." Intones Magus in greeting with an ever so slight nod of his head — taking any offered hands into a firm shake. "A pleasure to meet you. Doubly so since neither of you are wearing a uniform." He admits, his thick fingers spinning the glass of dangerous liquid in front of him. "I'm Lieutenant Magus Anastasius, Raptor Pilot. Might bump into me if you ever need shuttled about — we taking folks on board occasionally." He pointedly does not offer his callsign like so many other pilots might. Lifting the drink then to his lips, he takes a long swig, and then slowly sets it down on the table.

His eyes water for a moment, followed by his hand coming up to rub his throat, and then the Lieutenant coughs loudly a couple times. "If only it made things numb…."

Isabeau says, "Miss Aragon, please. I know that it is confusing, and I suppose my mother would have issues with it, but…" She pauses, her gaze darkening at some thought that she leaves unvoiced. "That is the way it is." Her grip is warm and strong enough, though brief. Looking down into the glass, she flashes a glance to Nicholas, "You probably have a fairly good idea of what went into it. Frankly? It looks frightening." Then, her attention is caught as the pilot actually tries the stuff. She waits to see whether he is going to spit flame or keel over. When he does not, she nods approvingly, "How does it taste?""

Nicholas blinks slowly and smirks at Magus' reaction. He quietly clears his throat. "Enough of that and we'll be holding up matches in front of your mouth to use you for a functional blowtorch. Dear oh dear."

"Like Tartarus itself," answers Magus when commenting about its taste, still coughing out the words, while his eyes continue to water. Still, after a few seconds he begins to force the coughing down, and then looks back to the lawyer. "Miss Aragon then, my appologies." Silence follows briefly after, with the pilot's frozen eyes flicking between the two. "Well, it is quite obvious what I do for a living, I guess… What about the pair of you?"

Isabeau flashes a smile at Nicholas, her chuckle startled and as brief as it is bright. When it dies away, the brightness in her gaze dies and she clears her throat as though embarrassed. "Oh, please do not apologize, Lieutenant. It is quite all right." Lifting her glass, she turns it slightly before taking a sip. "I am a lawyer, Lieutenant. Specializing in military and constitutional law." Her glance flickers to Nicholas so the man can answer for himself.

Nicholas smiles pleasantly at Isabeau, then looks back at Magus. "Ah. Well." He idly glances at the drink of doom glass, one brow lofting. "Livings are hard to make without functional currency, I must say. These days the paper an MBA was printed on is worth more than it is…least you can burn the paper." He smirks. "I do some organising of events in here." A finger idly indicates the bar.

"And these days?" Magus asks a moment later to Isabeau. "Are the survivors attempting to set up some sort of court system?" He asks, the military pilot ignorant of civillian affairs it would seem. The Lieutenant turns and glances about the quiet lounge, his brow furrowing ever so slightly for a moment. "Gods, and the military complains they have it bad… Truth is little changed for most of us anyways."

Isabeau says, "Uh. I am still a lawyer. I had a few cases when I worked for the JAG. Now that I am civilian, not so much. The court system will have to wait until the government is up and running." Turning, she nods to Nicholas, "If you want events organized, Mr. Luma is the man to see. He is quite good at it, even though tonight is a quiet one."

"'Survivors'." Nicholas smiles a little at Magus, though clearly not because it was funny. "Everyone's got their own word for us, don't they." He sips at his water, keeping it in hand.

The Gemenese Pilot turns his attention back to Nicholas now, lifting the drink to his lips, and then takes a long drink. He swallows, and places the glass back down lightly on the table. "What would you like to be called then?" Magus asks, delicately with his deep voice, giving the glass a small half turn.

Isabeau sips her water, her gaze flickering between the two men. Finally, she settles on Magus, "We are all citizens of the colonies. Or, perhaps more appropriately, citizens of the Fleet. You, Lieutenant, as well as all the civilians aboard the ships. All of the military. All of the civilians. If we are survivors, so are you. We really need to stop thinking of the military and the civilians as two different groups. We are all human. We are all fighting to survive. Perhaps in different ways, but… it is the same fight."

Nicholas smiles at Magus. "I don't believe I implied that I had a preferred term to use. I merely said everyone's got their own word."

"It is hard at times to think of us as joint unit. The civilians will set up their own government, in time… But the next question becomes, will the military follow it? Will they get a vote?" Magus muses thoughtfully. "It's hard because as a soldier, our movement is restricted, and some really don't have a high opinion of the civilian fleet — feeling that only the military is of any use around here." Another drink is taken, and Magus looks carefully between the two. "I myself enjoy those rare moments when I can leave the Military behind, but there are always those that'll cling to their guns and military ideals until the day they die."

Isabeau frowns a bit and that expression lingers longer than the smiles did. "Of course the military gets to vote. As I said, we are all citizens…" She blinks twice, and sets her glass of water down, "Lieutenant… I know that word went to the military ships to pay attention to the candidates who run for office, because I sent the word myself. Everyone gets a vote. Everyone's voice is important. It saddens and angers me that some feel that the military ships are the only ones of use and I hope that people have the good sence not to voice such a thing." Turning to Nicholas, she inclines her head, "If you will excuse me, gentlemen? I am feeling the need for some air."

Nicholas gently scratches the edge of his eyebrow with his ring finger as they talk. He, though, offers no opinion. "Oh, of course. Really, I should be moving along myself. I did promise Corinne I'd get a show set up for her, and that just takes /ages/. Lieutenant, pleasure to have met you."

The Lieutenant stands, allowing for the others to depart, and is respectful of their wishes to do so. It appears as if the Raptor Pilot may just let them all leave without a word, and return to his drink. He is infact already sitting down when he stops, and looks back towards the Lawyer. "Oh, Miss Aragon… I did get your message, and I believe in what you are doing. The sacred scrolls tell us that we all have a destiny. Maybe yours is to help us realize that everyone has worth, again… That everyone and everything has a purpose." With that he settles back into his own seat, letting his eyes slowly focus on something else — something that can only be seen by him.

Isabeau nods to Nicholas, then turns to Magus, "It was good to meet you, Lieutenant." She rises and steps away from the table. About half way to the door, she catches Magus' words and begins to turn. As the young man speaks, Isabeau's eyes widen and the blood drains from her cheeks. She blinks a few times in an effort to control the shimmer that springs to her eyes. A hand flies out to seek purchase and, for a moment, it is as if she has been struck a physical blow. Or, perhaps a metaphysical one. She clears her throat, seeking the detachment that has been stripped from her. Failing she offers a brief, almost smile, "Gods. I hope not, Lieutenant. If so, we are all doomed." Inclining her head once more, she adds, "Good night." Turning, her steps are more rapid now and she very nearly flees.

Nicholas lets Magus and Isabeau have their moment, slipping away towards the back area as the talk goes religious. He's gone before Isabeau's given her reply.

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