The Ratway

"I can't believe," Mori starts, voice blunt and full of sheer disbelief as he stares up at the gigantic hunk of junk metal that was taking up the vast majority of space in docking bay B-13, "that you bought a ship." That ship, more... precisely, considering that it looks like a good kick would bring down half the hull, and he should have expected something like this with Yuki, but well, he knows now. He taps the boarding ramp with the toe of his boot, just to reassure himself that at least part of it is more solid than it looks - not all that reassuring, really, considering, but, he figures, that's at least something to go on.

It's bustling and noisy as hell at the docks, and the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun is sitting directly across the back of his neck - heat pouring off the still cooling metal of the ship (scrap metal) in front of him, and honestly he's more interested in just sidestepping this whole... Catastrophic idea and heading for the closest bar to just grab a drink and pretend this is all just some kind of pollution-induced hallucination. Someone shoulders into him on their way past, and after he sends a frustrated glare at their retreating back, yeah, the ship's still there. So is the idiot that bought it, and he rubs a hand over his forehead.

"You bought that ship?"

The grin covering the other mans face is nothing short of proud. The ship cost him more than he'd like to remember, that is if he could remember. The buy may have been a result of a few too many drinks; and if it hadn't been for a rather hard to read message beside his bed, Yuki would never have known of his purchase.
But there she is. Standing there in dock B-13 like a majestic battle-mount. Sure she needed a bit of work done, maybe a bit of the sides here and there, but she was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"I bought this ship." He turns to his companion, the grin never once faltering. "And you get the job of fixing her up!" He speaks as if he's handing over a wonderful gift and not... well, maybe Battle-mount was too strong a word. But it was definitely better then a kettle.

It's like Yuki's asking him to turn a freaking kettle into a high-functioning space station, and he mutters exactly that under his breath as he steps in closer, brushing his fingers over a particularly rusty looking joint on the outer-shell and scraping off a piece of flaking paint that spells out Navigator-P19F7. He flicks the peeled paint to the floor and abruptly drags a hand through his sweat and engine-oil streaked hair, barking a laugh of disbelief. "Why did- No, no," He decides quickly before some hair-brained answer got thrown his way, "How, did you buy this ship? Last week," He declares loudly so as to be heard over the clamour around them, jabbing a finger at Yuki as he rounds on him, "Last week, you had to borrow bread. Bread."

As much as he wants to just, get the hell to the bottom of this whole thing, he knows how unlikely it is that Yuki's going to make sense anytime soon, and he's not sure he's emotionally capable of dealing with the nonsense bullshit that's likely to follow any and all questions right now.

And, really, when it comes down to it, he's seen much worse. He's fixed much worse. It's not as bad as it could have been, even if it's the one model of ship that's he's steadfastly advised anyone and everyone who will listen against even thinking about buying. Riding in. Looking at. Okay, so it's not good, and he has no idea where the hell this is going, but he's apparently obliged to listen. "Why am I fixing this? Why do you have this? What... Inspired this?" He quizzed, pinching the bridge of his nose and reluctantly dismissing the idea of just walking away.

Hands instantly came up, not to defend himself, but rather to emphasize his next point. "That is an excellent question, and one that I would love to answer, but first check out this engine!" Yuki can't remember a time he has been this excited. He feels like his whole body, every individual cell is vibrating.

He owns a ship. An actual ship. An actual flying, traveling to different worlds ship. And its all his.
Okay, maybe 80% his. Mori can have 20%. Since it was most likely his credits that paid for the damn thing.

The younger man begins to dance under the ship, and continues to do so until he reaches a small hatch. He reaches up, pulling himself in and then flipping around so that only his face is seen from the opening. The grin is back, full of the excitement he can't shake. "I'm telling you man. She's a beauty."

He really, really wants to snark and complain and nag for answers (and maybe bitch for a while about the paid jobs he could be finishing if he could only just get back to his shop) but the engine access hatch is open and Yuki's hanging out of it with a grin the size of his stupid head on his face, and he puts all that to the side so he can cross over to the hatch and clamber up, shoving Yuki out of the way like an errant apprentice mechanic as he does. It's pretty clear that whatever plans he had for the day - maybe, the week, or, more - are completely out the window, so he doesn't even protest and just goes for the first exposed parts he can find, thumbing open a safety cover and jamming his fingers underneath the casing to lift it up. It's stuck, disuse, probably, and he has to physically lean into it to force part of it open. Immediate grease on everything. Apparently his second favourite shirt's destined for the 'work' pile after all.

"Could be worse," He allows cautiously, peering over the connections and wiring, and he rubs his thumb over the part number to clear off the dust from the lettering. He throws a quick glance to Yuki over his shoulder after a few more moments of just looking over the immediately accessible parts. "You going to tell me how the hell you landed a ship that might actually be capable of flight?"

"Another fabulous question." Yuki grins from the wall he currently leans on. "And another that  I would love to answer, but first. We need to find someone who can fly this ship." He pushes himself away from the wall and walks over to Mori. He plasters what he hopes is a child like innocent look on his face. "As the only person I know who has legitimate contacts in the ship like business, would you have any wonderful recommendations?"

And it was true. If Yuki took a moment to be honest with himself, the chances of him actually obtaining this ship from a legitimate source would be slim.
Incredibly slim
Like piece of paper falling through a slim crack slim. But Mori doesn't need to know this. No. Yuki plans on keeping Mori blissfully unaware until the last possible second, or until he checks his bank balance.
But by then a pilot will have been hired and escape will be easier and Mori will never be able to find him.
Because he has a ship.

"I could ask around," Mori accepts almost grudgingly, glaring down at the valves jutting out of the compressor to the side like they'd personally offended him. "But before any of that, you need to at least tell me what you're expecting out of this, because if I'm fixing this thing up, and you're after a pilot, I'm not going anywhere with you unless you can tell me that you've got something solid actually lined up to pay back-- Whatever you spent- I'm not going to even think about that. You need to give me some kind of base outline on what you want here, before I even consider looking for someone."

He leans further forwards over the parts, prying away a cover here and checking for an oil level there, and it's not possibly too much to ask for just that much. Besides, if he'd going to be roped into something that Yuki's come up with, then it's going to have to be damn well good enough for him to pack up shop and gamble his nearly non-existent savings and stability - and frankly, he didn't think this bucket of bolts would get more than a single day out of the docks before something disastrous went wrong. He barely had a choice but to go along.

"It's going to cost a fair bit in parts, just from what I can see here, and that's not even considering the rest of this thing," The man adds with a raised brow, wiping his hands clean of the black grease on his jeans. "Or the fact that I'd be asking wages for whatever you're plotting. I'm not going to just fly off without a job."

In an almost impossible move, Yuki's grin grew and his arms flew out wide in an excited fashion. This stance was a position Yuki took whenever he was about to share some news. Some possibly illegal news, news he knew Mori wouldn't like or news that the younger had not quite thought out.
"Well, you're in luck, my greese monkey of a friend. You're in luck because I-" his hand places itself over his heart as he steps forward. "You're wonderful, fabulous and ridiculously good looking companion has already managed to line up a job! A good job. And yes, a legal job. 100% well paid, half up front job!"

After discovering the note detailing his drunken purchase, Yuki was aporoched by a incredibly well groomed man who had a proposal for him. Deliver a package to the other side of the quadrant.
That was it. The conversation had lasted a while, mostly because Yuki found it hard to believe that an unknown street rat, who had only recently obtained a ship, was being offered this job.
It was only after a large amount of credits had been placed in front of them that Yuki agreed. All they had to do was collect the package from the were house and fly. No danger. Nothing.
And Yuki chose not to question it further. The upfront payment was enough to make a man rich. The second payment could set them up for life. It was perfect.

So after collecting the completly legal paperwork outlining the job, Yuki collected Mori and showed him the ship which brings them to this moment.

Yuki pulls out the papers from his back pocket, the wide grin never leaves as he hands the contract to his friend.

Mori snatches the papers and spares Yuki only a second's worth of incredulous staring before his eyes drop to the page in front of him, quickly skimming over the contract, the stupid amount of fine print, and he's not at all convinced. Deliver a package? So they were going to start a postal service now, was that it? The snort he gives at that thought is utterly graceless, and he flips over to the next page; deliver the cargo, ensure that it's in good condition upon arrival... Half up front, half upon delivery including travel expenses, equalling a sum of-

He blinks, stares down at the page.

A sum of how many damn points exactly?! He huffs again, the noise caught somewhere between shock and, well, what was inexplicably anger; head snapping up to look at his friend for a split second before he goes back to the page and flips through the pages, looking for something, anything, that would make this some kind of- Some kind of fraudulent, deceitful- Just a scam, it must be a scam. But the seals were good, and while he hadn't heard of the company before, he'd seen enough of these things during his time, and this was legitimate. This was legitimate, and, all they had to do was drop off some cargo - admittedly, a fucking long way away - and they'd have more points than he'd know how to spend.

Clearing his throat, he shoves the paper back at Yuki, barely waiting for the other to catch hold of the pages before relinquishing his grip. "You're kidding. What the hell is this parcel, then? Going by that price, there's no way that's legal." He says immediately, but his full attention is on Yuki now, weight carefully balanced and curiosity obviously peaked, almost to the point that he'd stopped caring about the fact that this whole little expedition was only possible because of the mysterious ship Yuki now owned.

Yuki nothing short of shoves the papers back into his pocket, already turning he begins to make his way to the hatch to freedom. Freedom from this suddenly very tight room.
Yuki hadn't thought to ask what the package was. It never even crossed his mind. He saw credits, he saw riches and the promise of paradise. Beyond that he hadn't cared. Hell, for that price he would have agreed to be the guinea pig for some seedy fat man in a speedo.

Clearing his throat, the younger man offers a simple grin at him friend. "Before we get into the finer details, we need to get a pilot. So hop to it!!!"
He jumps out of the hatch and lands with a thud and a flail of limbs. The sound echos through the dock and the ship.
Yuki stands, dusting himself off and waving cheerfully to the others in the bay who had the honor of witnessing the less than graceful display. "I'm good!" He exclaims loudly. He pays himself down carefully. "Yup! I'm good!"
Note to self: Use provided ladder for next avoidance.

Mori makes a point of dismounting with some level of grace, landing solidly and firmly on the floor and replacing the hatch door, spinning the lock into place and ignoring the fact that far too many people had stopped in their day-to-day activities to watch the commotion that was Yuki making an idiot out of himself, the guy still grinning in that utterly unsettling and disturbing way that meant that he was out of his depth, a way that's almost enough to make Mori want the papers back for another look. But the proposed payment is still flashing behind his eyes, and the decision to just pull out of this whole thing was quickly loosing out the the idea of having even a tenth of those credits.

"Lock her up, then," Mori says against his better judgement. "Because you're going to start looking for a medic, with actual credentials, that's interested in this terrible idea of yours, because we're not going anywhere unless we've got someone that's actually capable of putting people back together." He starts off past Yuki, giving the man a firm clap to the shoulder on his way past, shaking his head, "I'm going to go talk to some people about a Pilot, we'll meet tonight with anyone we find, and tomorrow I'll tell you exactly how long it's going to be before I'm happy that it's safe to fly out." This he calls over his shoulder, already falling into line in the endless stream of pedestrians on the docks.

"Meet me at 21:00 in the Ten Forward bar so we can talk more. Don't do anything else stupid before then!"

After a pointed salute to his friend, Yuki spins on his heal and walks out of the bay. In charge of finding a doctor? How hard could that be? He is sure that there would be hundreds of doctors lined up for a position on a ship.
Right? Right? On second thoughts maybe not.

Though the planet Yuki calls home was more high end then most industrial planets, doctors were still in high demand. What with the pollution, factories, pod races and other such buildings and activities.

Yeah, this was going to be hard. Leave it to Mori to get the awesome Job of finding an awesome Pilot of awesome. Big thanks Mori. Now Yuki had to deal with clinics and sick people and blood and broken bones and... Yeah, this wasn't going to work.

Paper. Yuki needed paper. And maybe a pen. Yes, a pen would be a good idea. Paper... pen... paper... Cardboard! Yes, that would work fine. He grabs a discarded piece of box and tucks it securely under his arm.
The pen wasn't that hard to find. A passing dock worker practically offers it to the young man. If offers means has it firmly in his back pocket.
Yuki always believes that if someone doesn't want something taken then it shouldn't be in plain sight. The worker shouldn't miss it. He didn't even feel it as Yuki slid it from his pants.

As he walks down the street, passing the rickety wooden buildings of the poor, he uses the time to write down a quick "For Hire!" sign. That should do the trick.
All he needs to do now is stop by the market, place the sign on a wall and then he has the rest of the day free. With an amused scoff Yuki grins to himself. And Mori thought this would be a difficult job.

It only takes Mori an hour of careful navigating into the poorer quarters of the city before he finds the first fenced off street, what was once the old CBD that's been long since abandoned and left behind for newer, richer districts, leaving a plethora of old derelict buildings and factories in its wake as the city sprawled outwards and away from the old structures. It starts getting more crowded the further in he gets, and then he hits the final makeshift barrier along the old highway, just in time for the blast of sound and what felt like a solid wall of wind as the racing pods tear around the curve and off along a side street.

Not necessarily legal, per-se, but it isn't as if this side of the city is all that well policed to begin with, and if those kinds of legal issues came up, the whole race would be disbanded in minutes - it was just one of the risks. But as far as brilliant pilots went, the young woman that had almost definitely been in the blur of colours that soared past moments ago could barely be matched. A little young, yeah, and frustratingly hot-heated and stubborn, but unerringly brilliant when it came to this kind of thing.

He pushes through the crowd of spectators and gamblers to get through to the make-shift pit stop to wait for the race to finish, mentally running over a checklist of all the stuff he'd have to try and haggle out of the vendors around here at some point soon.

If nothing else, the speed and rush of the race is worth it. Her pod, though banged up and small, was one of the fastest on the track thanks to a few modifications. Mods weren't strictly in the rules, but since the whole race was technically illegal a lot of the time they were looked over.

The track was narrow, but it was designed that way. The more bumping, crashing and general chaos that ensued was what brought the people around. The bets that took place on the side lines weren't just about who would win, but also who would fail, how they would fail and how long it may take for them to achieve the failure.

Abby had been racing for three years on these tracks. She knew the inner workings of each race, racer and track. She knew about the shady deals, the pay-offs to lose and of course, how to win. And she always won.
Well, not always. That is something that causes her teeth to grind. She hates losing. Especially against the men and women who enjoyed these races.
Just because of her age they turn their noses up at her. But no longer. She was going to beat the crap out of everyone here toda-

The girls head snapped up as someone rammed into her pod. HER pod. Her precious baby of a machine. Someone actually thinks that ramming into her pod is a good idea? Think again mother fuckers! Evasive maneuvers!

Her hands grip onto the panel tighter, her knuckles almost turning white at the pressure. Sharp right! The pod moves, crashing back into the offending vehicle and bouncing back.
Her speed increases. Her focus sharpens. The other pods become almost still in her eyes as she swerves between them. At one point her pod rides for a few seconds on its side as she goes.
Then someone rams her from behind. Then the side. She's forced up against the wall. Despite her best efforts, her pod remains trapped.
There's a sicking sound of metal reshaping. They're crushing her pod! They're actually crashing her damn pod!

They move. Abby has a second to think before they're back. But it's not enough time. Her pod is shoved into the wall so hard she flips over the other vehicle. She's on the rack. Pods are flying over her, knocking into her and pushing her to the side.
She's out. Even if she could free herself, the other pods have moved on. There wouldn't be enough time to catch up to them.
She lost and its all because of stupid fucking-

The girl manages to pull herself free from the scrap that was once her racer. She throws her helmet off in a rage, her auburn hair blowing around her as she kicks it onto the track. Profanities spew from her mouth before she makes her way offside.

At least she'd have a pay out. Other then betting for herself to win, she also bet that she would lose.
A small pay off, nothing like the winners fee, but at least she wouldn't go home empty handed. Though it wouldn't be enough to pay for a new pod.
Stupid no good bullies knocking her pod off the track! If she saw them....

Still muttering angrily to herself, Abby made her way to the betting window.

"You just cost me thirty credits, kid," Mori comments loudly over the yelling and constant noise and squabbling between the stake holders and those suddenly desperately out of pocket as he nudges through the crowd to draw up beside her, a brow raised high on his forehead - he'd spotted the spectacular crashed and immediately charged over as close as he could get - not that he'd admit for a second that he might have had a wild moment of panic there.

These things were dangerous, and she just looked so young. It does give him a way to catch her attention though - with her racer out of commission, and her own savings likely nearly scrapped from building that pod up from nothing but scrap metal, she'd likely jump at an opportunity to get her hands on some credits.

Or her hands on the controls of a full-sized ship.

And maybe it's a good way to keep an eye on her too, if he can manage that much. She's as bad as Yuki, when it comes down at it; the same sporadic energy and sheer, terrifying spontaneity that's landed him in this exact of situation. The relief that she's in a good enough way to at least throw a miniature tantrum after the crash is enough to make a momentary smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "I've got a job offer for you, and I'm sure it'd pay a heck of a lot more than whatever you put on your pod being torn to pieces," There's still smoke in the muggy breeze from the crash site, and people are dragging lumps of metal off the track before the racers finish the current loop.

"Friend of mine's got a ship, needs a pilot for a delivery job. Fully funded, good money." He adds, ducking his head a little to make sure she can still hear him (the pods were coming back around), "Awful company, but that's why I mentioned the money part first. Couldn't think of anyone better to ask. Interested? Want to talk?"

The man is standing close. Very close. And he is offering up a job. A job after that horrific display of skill and the fact that she lost. Was he mad, or just plain desperate? Because either of those would work in her current state.

Abby offers the man a momentary glance as she hands in her ticket to gain her winnings. She remains silent a moment, thoughts circulating in her mind. It seemed shady that she be offered a job, but money was good. Money could pay for a new pod. Money could also pay for a nice house and some food on the table.

She watches as the credits are deposited into her account before she turns away from the counter and gives the other man her full attention. She had seen him before. He worked t that shop that offered her the spare parts, if she remembers correctly. He always seemed nice, if not extremely grumpy. What did he look like when he smiled? Did he ever smile? Did he actually know how to smile?
New mission. Make grumpy monkey smile.

Abby flashes the man a wide grin. "Feel like a pretzel?" the answer doesn't really matter. she is craving a giant pretzel anyway. If he is serious about giving her a job then he shall follow her to the pretzel car and eat a damn pretzel.
Seriously. The tracks pretzels are amazing.

She begins to walk to the vender closest to the exit of the track.

Mori frowns haplessly after her, seriously, pretzels, but there isn't much other to do than to follow her, so he shoves away from the counter and falls into step behind her. Was it really too much to ask, for just a single person, somewhere along the track, that answered a question with an answer, instead of another question, a bizarrely unwarranted expression or a string of Yuki's wild disclaimers that now tended to set off a pavlovian reaction of mild discomfort.

Yes, yes it was apparently too much to ask. So he shoves his hands into his pockets and gives himself exactly three seconds to silently imagine the cold glass of scotch he could have his hands on now, right this second, in a bar with a breeze, conditioned air, maybe, if he wanted to be indulgent, and just settle back out of the heat and think about working and maybe those specialised parts he'd been trying to negotiate purchasing for the best part of a month-

His sour expression upon being drawn back into the present by the ruckus around the frigging pretzel cart is, thankfully, exactly sour enough to discourage the man from actually trying to pick up a sales pitch aimed in his general direction, and he folds his arms and waits a bit off to the side for the young woman to buy the damn thing.

It's too hot out for this kind of crap.

He nearly says the same to the girl, not that she looks like she's listening to him over the calls of "hot pretzels!" from the vendor, but instead just cuts himself of and snorts quietly, twisting his hand around to work a loose thread free from the hem of his sleeve.

'Yes' and 'No' answers, he'd pay, to hear that, just once this year.

"Two please." Abby offers the vender a kind smile. Her winnings aren't much, but they can and will pay for these pretzels. She is even lucky enough to have some change left over. She hands over the credits, accepts the goods in return and begins to walk out of the crowd. She keeps both to herself.
The down side to her job was the people. Too many of them. Too many placing bets. Too many cheering. Too many buying and eating her pretzels. What they needed was a new plague.
There should be a hot-line that you could call to order a plague.

"Okay. So before I agree or decline anything I have a few questions." The girl begins as her mouth wraps itself around the delicious piece of food in her hands. "How much will I be getting paid, when will I get paid, Is the ship actually able to lift off the ground and how long will I be away? Oh! And how desperate are you?"
All reasonable questions. Abby offers self a mental pat on the back. Good job Abby.

As they exit the crowded area, the young girl detours slightly from the intended path. Sitting beside a derelict shelter is a small child. No more than six. Her clothes, much like the home beside her are filthy.
Without missing a step, Abby hands the second pretzel and the spare change to the girl before continuing on her way. She looks to the man beside her as she takes another bite of her food, her eyes prodding him for answers.

"Fine," Mori agrees, just a second before she starts firing off likely every question that came to mind the moment he said the word 'job,' which, okay, at least someone was asking questions, right? And answering them? That was rational, and acceptable, and even if Yuki was going to shut-lipped about everything that seemed important and highly relevant-

He blinks quickly, having lost track once more out of sheer frustration, and he shakes his head to draw back his focus as the woman passes off a pretzel to one of the street kids, thankful for the few seconds reprieve.

"Payment's yet to be sorted, but you could buy a stupid amount of houses with a small fraction of the delivery price they're paying; yes, once I've had some quality time with it; don't know - a while, and very, why, can you tell?" He asks dryly, and his lips twist in a not-quite smile that's still got some edge of amusement. "Abby - it is Abby, isn't it? Look, can't speak for the-" Captain? Hell no. "Owner, of the ship, but I'm hell sure that the pay's going to be worth a damn well lot more work than the cake-walk they're asking. You can fly an old model Navigator, right?" He asked in mock concern, drawing up still for a second before plowing on through the pedestrian traffic.

"I don't have all the details, I'm not interested in chasing someone around for an hour or three, I just want to see if you're interested enough to come back and talk to the guy about solid credit figures and see where we go from there. By the time we leave we'll have a medic on board, friend's a navigator, I'll stop it falling to pieces." He offers a shrug, feeling like he'd hit the end of his sales pitch. This was exactly why he let the apprentices hands the customer service side of things.

She pauses, lost in her own thoughts for only a moment. What did she have to lose, right?
Abby turns her full attention to Mori once more as she stops dead in her tracks. "Okay." She grins at him. "Once I see the actual credits and some kind of legal document outlining my share, which sounds like a lot, then I'm in."

The man had her at old model navigater. She hadn't seen one of those, yet alone touched one since her fathers old HN4-876 over 5 years ago.

"Just tell me when and where. Oh! When would we be leaving? Should I pack a bag? I'm gonna pack a bag."

"The Ten Forward bar on the south outskirts of this district at twenty-one-thirty, we'll have something drawn up by then. And some numbers for you," He answers easily enough, pocketing his hands again and regarding her steadily as he steps backwards. "We'll be leaving once I've fixed up everything that can't be dealt with on the go, so I'll have a time window for how long that's going to take by tomorrow. I'm Mori, the friend's Yuki."

He needs to pack too, or at least get everything together and hand the shop over to the least likely of his staff to burn the place down in his absence. Maybe get all of his shit out of his shoddy apartment before the landlord throws it out onto the street, which is exactly what's going to have happened if he just vanishes and expects to come back to a home at any point in the future.

"We'll see you there," He adds gruffly with a nod before raising a hand in a short wave and turning on his heel. "You better not steer us into a wall if the situation arises. I'll only have so many replacement parts."

"Oh Hardy Ha, Ha." Abby replies dryly, her face mirroring just how amusing she thought the man was. "'Don't go steering us into any walls. I only have so many replacement parts.'" She mocks under her breath as she starts her way towards her shelter. "I wonder how many replacement parts you have. Why I oughta...."

Her home is nothing more than a hole in a wall covered by a few discarded logs. Not the best door, but unless anyone knew what they were looking for then it would only appear to be a few discarded pieces of wood.
Inside is her bed (Which is nothing more than an old mattress), a few changes of clothes, a golden locket and a nice backpack for it to all fit into. The packing doesn't take long. Now she just needs to figure out what to do with the rest of her day.
She decides to nap. Because napping is awesome and after a crash, Abby loves nothing more than a pretzel and a nice nap.

----

A buzzing forces Abby about of her snooze. She lets out an annoyed grumble before picking up her communicator. (Standard issue. Allows for easy purchases, reminders, calls etc.) 9:13. Now in pompous I'm so awesome I speak in 24 hour time speak that means.... She has fifteen minutes to get her butt to the bar!
After a long string of words that would make even the direst pirate blush, Abby collects her bag and rushes out the hole and on her way to the bar.
She doesn't worry about placing the wooden panels back over the hole. If this goes well it will hopefully be the last she ever see's of it.

Luckily she manages to make it to the bar in record time (And with 3 minutes to spare.) After a mental pat on the back, Abby makes her way inside. Even though she is already looking for a broody alpha male, she finds it easier to spot him as the company he keeps i standing on a chair reciting in vivid detail about his escapades that afternoon.

Abby makes her way over easily and plops, not sits but plops into the seat beside Mori. "Wicked." She grins. "Drinks!" She grabs one of the drinks in the centre of the table and sculls it.

Yuki raises an eyebrow and stops mid flail to look over the newcomer to the table. He sits himself down slowly, never once looking away from the female. After a moments silence he asks, "Medic?"

"Pilot." She manages out through a mouthful of booze. Whatever was in that drink burns. Her throat! Her beautiful throat felt like it was trying to become the size of the peanuts on the table. "Oh! Peanut." She grins and grabs one.

Yuki's grin is slow to form. He turns his eyes away from Abby to the only other member of the table, his dear friend Mori. "Why you sly dog! What? I'm not enough eye candy for you, you had to go and get the youngest pilot you could find?!" His grin is one parts mocking, two parts amused.

Abby nearly choaks on her peanut.

Mori's still trying to not look too put out that she's skulled his drink when the comment comes out of Yuki's mouth and his entire face shifts into a deep scowl, brow twitching slightly in horrified irritation as he snatches at the remaining drink, downing nearly the whole thing in one go to protect it from being reclaimed by Yuki.

It's just fair, considering that it's all of a sudden like he's seeing double at the goddamned table, and it's such an awful idea, and if this all goes through he'd better have his own freaking space as far away from these two as he can possibly manage, or else he's going to actually lose his mind to their idiocy.

"She's not eye candy," He grouses angrily as he drops the empty glass back onto the table with a pointedly audible clunk, reaching up to press his fingers in hard against the inner corners of his eyes in the vague hope that it might reduce the impending headache. "She's your new pilot, and, before I regret defending her, she's one of the best out there." He says, nodding to himself - the faintest twitch of a smirk crossing his features. "If you ignore the results of today's race."

He wants a new drink, but he doesn't feel safe enough to leave the table end expect to come back to the same situation so soon after stealing Yuki's drink, so it's just a better idea all around to stay exactly where he is, staring forlornly at the bar. "So Yuki, you need to start talking wages and times with Abby here, seeing as you didn't bring a medic with you," He adds with a raised brow as he fishes out his communicator to flick through the messages from the workshop.

Abby takes her chance to leave the table, her chest fluffing up at the compliment the older man gave her, (Even if he did end it with a snide remark about the day and refused to acknowledge her beautifulness. Because that's a word, and a word she uses often.) She makes her way to the bar, ordering two drinks to replace the one she just stole. Or two drinks for herself. She hadn't decided yet if she wanted to share.
Chances are she didn't, but that is a decision to make at the table.

"Hey, have some faith my man!" Yuki exclaims, pointing a finger in Mori's direction. "My medic should be here any moment. Because I'm awesome, and totally scouted each clinic in the hopes of finding a medic and totally didn't post a single sign at all. Because I'm awesome, and I listen to what My main man says." He grins, his teeth fully on show. He notices the pilots absence, but takes it as his cue to pull out the contracts he had written up in his spare time. Something he wasn't too happy about doing, but hey if you're going to be captain of a ship you better make damn well sure no one will sue your arse.

"Excuse me?" The voice cuts Yuki off from his inner monologue, as well as his continued speech of awesome. He looks up and notices a woman of their age. Blond, Tall. Legs that went on for days. Yuki opens his mouth, ready to seduce the pants, or in this case rather short dress off the woman, but she speaks before he has the chance. "Sorry to interrupt, but is this the right table? I've been all over this bar looking for the crew in search of a medic."

"That's us," Mori says for Yuki, seeing as the man looks like he's floundering for a way to get back on track after she interrupted what was sure to be a trademark one-liner seduction speech. She's beautiful, stunning, really, and Mori wants to turn Yuki's own 'eye candy' speech back on him but just doesn't want to risk whatever the off the bat comeback of that might be. Still, he finds enough time to flick an irritated, and rather pointed look at his friend. "I'm Mori, mechanic and engineer, this is Yuki, ship owner and navigator. Abby, our pilot, is at the bar. Mind if I just ask what your qualifications are? Then he can talk money." He adds with a nod in Yuki's direction, gesturing her down to sit with the friendliest, not-quite-smile that he can manage, the whole while enjoying the immediate relief that this woman, at least, seems semi-sane.

Maybe they wouldn't just be a travelling bucket of lunatics after all.

Gods, why was this happening at all? He should be settling back with a drink and maybe calling a supplier or two about parts, talking to his apprentice about his upcoming promotion- Instead, instead he's sitting in a bar, wondering how the hell he's going to put a ship back together in whatever Yuki's ideal timeframe is, without a drink in his hand and no actual business work handled.

He really needs to do something about the shop.