Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed]

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - Printable Version

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Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - Ghostly - 05-19-2015

While Alex either slept or died on the couch, an exact determination of which was somewhat hard to distinguish, Zasz waited. Patience was a virtue, and in certain regards he could be considered saintly in that aspect. There was little to do but stare at the smaller individual in curiosity at first, then boredom. They were not one of his marks. Out in the grand dark ocean that enveloped each and every star, there was bound to be another, maybe even several similar to this one. Without that one quality that made one stand out above all of the others, once Zasz fell past the initial interest, his concentration waned. From his coat a lighter and a crumpled pack of smokes were retrieved from less than graceful hands. An indistinct package without branding, custom ordered as they were perhaps the only cigarettes he had found thus far that could actually filter past the lining he'd had implanted in his throat as a preventive measure against ingested toxins. What was the use of smoking if he couldn't feel the sensation of his lungs being scarred by the heat? A horizontal split formed in the lower half of his helmet, allowing a several inch breach for him to place the death stick into his lips. The lighter happened to be a bit more modern, as those steel fingers of his would break any feeble flint ignition method, instead with but a press against an undetermined button caused a small flame to light the tobacco.

Hidden eyes turned away from Alex towards a horticulture book that he'd picked off of the floor, though book was an understatement. With its size it appeared to belong to part of an encyclopedia volume. Sticking out of the edge of the shut pages were an abundant amount of colored tabs that Zasz had to recall a reason for; at least in the case of this particular publication. There was purpose in what would otherwise be seen as a means to blow off time. Flipping through the thick chapters, skimming more so than reading, it wouldn't be until a halfway gone third cigarette that his speedy scanning stopped on a page with an almost neon yellow tab. With a hearty exhale of white smoke and a grin on his barely viable features he mouthed the word of this particular species.

Calochortus Somniatis

Most did not refer to it as such, though few even knew of its existence. In all manners did the slaver collect rarities, his garden one of his prouder achievements. What he called the Apollo Lilly was about as unique as they came. On its own, the plant was simply a beautiful orchid with a translucent stalk and glowing blue petals. To crush them up and serve it as a tea however induced a psychotropic trance that few drugs could even hold a candle to. A highly addictive experience that one had difficulty telling apart from reality, in fact the blending of both worlds was an almost indiscernible line. To keep his guest on this for a spell would have her out of his hair, that much was certain. The aftereffects, coming down from the quickly developed dependence would bring horrible consequences. Once Alex was on her own that would be her concern however, not his.

She stirred.

Closing the paperback with a loud snap, he flicked away the bud of nearly extinguished embers to the side to allow his mask the freedom to seal once more. His stowaway had survived, though continued on surviving would be a better term. Zasz wouldn't wait for her to finish any of the jumbled sounds her mouth and tongue were struggling to form before rising from his seat to his towering height, leaving his book behind. In any other instance she'd have right to worry about him, but for right now, all he did was step over to the organic replicator behind where he had been settled. "This is indeed my ship." He had managed to pick up on that statement from her, and as such replied with amusement lost on any but himself. There were perhaps few responses he could give that were difficult to take in a positive outlook considering that jarring filter they had to pass through first. The panel to the device activated in his presence, and provided a multitude of options that would fit the needs of most life forms. He'd use the same settings as himself for what he planned on giving the girl, as it was easier than standing there putting in each value that the device would then use to design, "the perfect, efficient meal."

While the machine initialized its routine, Zasz would add an amendment to his prior sentence while he pulled yet another item from inside the heavy layered jacket he wore around his armor. "Captain Zasz Fenris to your rescue." What looked like a blood packet was in his hand, though clear and filled with what was presumably water. It was best not to question just what he didn't have in those deep pockets of his. Turning, he'd toss the container that he did not expect her to be able to catch, but would definitely land on the couch she was laying upon. "Drink up."

With a ding, there lay a green block no larger than your average candy bar inside a glass cylinder that rotated to allow the opening to be accessed. Taking what could hardly be viewed as visually appealing in most circles would power down the food generator, but one took what they could get when push came to shove. Instead of throwing this like before, he's set it down atop one of the various novels covering the table between them then reclaim the seat he had.

"I'm sure you have plenty of questions, as do I, but seeing as all you've done since I've seen you is struggle to get anything coherent out, please take your time." Zasz was by no one's point of view, a friendly and or approachable fellow. Threatening and dominating, sure, even from his lax sitting position he gave off an oppressive aura. As big as he was and with no visible display of emotions, this was a natural effect he had on others that he accepted. Still, he felt with Alex, a reasonable conversation could be had considering he was not tying her up to a bed or shooting at her; that was to come later if pleasant dialogue fell by the wayside. From inside his helm, an audio and video log that he had yet to label was underway to keep record of past, present, and future interactions with his new "friend." Information was never to be wasted, and when he had to hunt down the cretin(s) that were in charge of the Diem Vuong, he would take all he could get. "Before that though, let me say this. I am not what most would consider a decent person, but we have in common that I am disgusted at what you've had to deal with on board the Diem Vuong. Take that for what you will." A fair explanation, Zasz saw it necessary to let the woman know she was not in the presence of an upstanding member of society. While he never lied, like just now he more than withheld critical details that she'd most likely wish to know about her savior.

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - danixiewrites - 05-24-2015

"Nnnnice-uh mee' ya Cat'n. Fennn. Ish. Fench." Alex coughed, then flailed in a genuine attempt to catch the container he tossed her way, despite the fact in her current state she had no hope of doing so.

Asshole.

Probably threw it just so he could watch that.

Frustrated, she grabbed the packet and tore into a corner with her teeth, ignoring the more serviceable, actual opening.

He thinks I'm useless already.

That was a mindset she had to change, and fast, because as much as she couldn't bear the term herself, being useless aboard someone's ship when they didn't want her there in the first place could be infinitely worse than a spiral of self-loathing. One-way-trip-out-an-airlock worse.

So no more trying to catch things. For now. And probably I should remember how to function in polite society on the quick, too.

At least the liquid was restorative, though once he insulted her clarity on top of her present agility, she sipped infinitely more slowly. No use giving him more reasons to think she lacked wits. It wasn't a matter of translation. She understood him just fine. Her own words must have been coming out a lot more garbled than she was hearing in her head.

Three quarters of the packet were gone and the room's ceiling ceased having a spinning, strobing dance club effect by the time she tried to process what he'd said. Words almost sympathetic, but lacking any inflection one would expect in accompaniment.

And had that been a warning?

She eyed the books spread all over the table. Couldn't be that bad a person. He had hobbies, for one, and hobbies that didn't seem to wholly focused on extracting information. A slob, perhaps, but unless they were hiding under a pile of butts and haphazardly strewn papers, she didn't see an assortment of plaswhips and hooks and implements used to torture a prisoner, all laid out for her to choose from for the day. In response, she gave an experimental shrug of her shoulders that felt like someone had pounded metal spikes into her shoulderblades and flames stabbed in a line down her sides. Her jaw clamped down, gray eyes watering until the pain had returned to its usual haze of tolerable.

Alex's tolerance had increased quite a bit during her internment.

Okay. So not a whole lot of moving right now. That's...fine. Just fine.

"Thank you for the rescue." The words sounded the same to her brain as they had earlier, so she'd have to take his response for an indication of their coherency. And plunge forward anyway, because the reality of not being strapped down was glorious. "Truly, Captain Fenris. I'm Alex. Alex Winger."

Had she already given her name? No matter. He'd given her a last name, and she could respond in kind. Alex did indeed have questions, it was just that she couldn't decide what to ask first. What system am I in? What's the date? Has my father put out a ransom--no, better not ask that. What are you? Is that a suit or are you a robot--frag. It's been so long since...reasonable people.

She asked nothing instead and finally scooped up the bar he'd set before her, turning it over and over in her hands as if trying to make sense of its purpose. When she finally deigned to put it in her mouth, she almost instantly recoiled. Almost, only because her reaction time was still lagging, her muscles worn out and unwilling. "Seven bloody moons of Detrionn," she muttered, and what happened next might be assumed to be the result of months of lock-up and lack of meaningful sentient interaction. It wasn't. Licking the back of her hand to scrub her tongue clean out of old, neanderthalic habit and sheer misplacement of manners, she realized she was coated in...undesirable goo. And a vastly more undesirable flavors.

Hr tongue left a streak of clear, faintly freckled skin in its wake and she blinked at it in what might have been unrecognizing shock for a moment before returning to the problem at hand. She took a swig from the remains of the liquid, swished it around, and then, not seeing anywhere to spit without having to get up, she backwashed into the container with a grimace.

Shaking the offensive green block at him, she demanded, "What the frag is this supposed to be?"

A pause, and then an explosion of rapid problem-solving. "Is your replicator broken? Your tastebuds? I can fix at least one of those, if you like. I'm really good with my hands and it seems like something nice to offer to someone's rescuer, right?"

Stop, Alex.

Questions spilling forth had no true bearing on her current situation, reflecting her analytical nature instead, her thoughts retreating into the familiar engineering troubles--things she could control--instead of her life--and the fact she had no idea what came next.

And then, because those weren't the only two options: "Do you not know how to make it pump out edible things? Do you not like edible things? Do you not need to eat? Frag..."

STOP, Alex.

Her head dropped until she was staring at her hands, unseeing. "What if my tastebuds are broken?"

She swallowed hard at the horrible thought. Maybe they were out of shape from not actually tasting anything but blood--her own, filling her mouth during particularly rough sessions.

"Not that I have room to complain," a soft admission, now that her brain had connected an engineering problem with a living one, "They had me on IVs on that ship."

STOPSTOP.

Undeterred by a brain that was practically screaming her--second--first impression in a place of even temporary freedom was going to be insulting his tech, his intelligence, and also probably his ability to be an organic being at all, she shook the bar, lifted it toward him. "A babe gets out of the bowels of a space worm's stomach, she wants a burger, not a fraggin' brick."

Probably the visual needed as much work as her manners and her adjustment to reality, as Alex considered her hasty words and then wrinkled her nose. "You know what I mean." Her shoulders sagged as her brain finally caught up. "And I'm sorry. For complaining."

Stars...I need to remember how to talk to people.

She curled into herself, a willowy form sinking deeper into the worn couch cushions like they could swallow her up and protect her from any impending punishment, clothes in tatters, skin smeared with unfortunate things, and face draped in a look of forlorn defeat.

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - Ghostly - 05-26-2015

Zasz sat there in silence for the the entirety of her tirade, eying her carefully behind a visor obscuring a rather amused grin. The slaver couldn't be upset at her outburst of movement and exclaimed disgust at the nutrient bar he'd offered. Of all the reactions he expected from her, this had not been one, and for some odd reason he found such a display better than any other might have been. Alex Winger, a captive aboard the Diem Vuong, a blacklisted vessel assuredly that pried information out of the tortured wails of it's victims. Now she would be a guest in the Greenhouse, Zasz Fenris's treasured garden that traveled the endless abyss. This was undoubtedly the better choice of travel to take part in, but when the secret of the captain's person cargo came to light. Well, then the real fun would begin.

Only when she finished and slumped into a defensive curl did he let out a monotone laugh through his filter, which would have sounded less dry than it actually was. What had to be to her surprise, he didn't move to beat her, or pull his shotgun off of his back to unload a rapid fire of shells in her crumpled form. Just that short few bursts of sound, then nothing for what would be a longer pause that was probably necessary. There would his sick sense of humor show for but a moment, his own means of torturing at one's psyche. Whether or not it was intentional he'd never let loose from his lips. It would be broken all the same with a raise of his hand, beginning of what was going to be one of many long winded expositions to come.

"Better. There doesn't appear to be any mental trauma that was keeping you from speaking properly, just a bit of dry mouth." Another chuckle at an awfully timed joke, but he continued without much more than a second of self delight. "The bar isn't meant to taste like much of anything. The point is to cram as many essentials into your malnourished body so you don't collapse under the lack of energy like you did earlier. It's efficient." With every sentence he spoke, Alex would be privy to a growing realization of just what she was dealing with. Not that she could tell yet, but under that disguise of wires and plates was indeed a living breathing man, never satisfied with his own limitations. Zasz strove to be the best he could possibly be, and that required ripping out all that would hamper progress.

Rising from his seat, the man removed the strap and shotgun he had wrapped around his torso and set it on the couch as he'd rise from his seat. At this point he did not think her so hostile as to attempt a coup. He'd take those slow and heavy steps away from where they were having a conversation. "I understand though, you've been crammed into a box of a room, fed through an IV and beaten within an inch of your life--repeatedly. Each and every luxury has been stripped from you, and all of your secrets were laid bare." Even with the new distance between them, which was only about a couple dozen feet, his voice reached where she'd presumably keep sitting. What would appear to be a kitchen was his destination, though it was a rather simple design like most of what made up the interior. Parallel to the wall was an island where all of the basics were, mainly the oven and stove as well as a grill along side it. Hanging from the low ceiling were cabinets to hold the various utensils. From behind was a series of containment units that slid out on command from a central console, a contained module that was open to the rest of the area around it. "I still suggest you try and get what I gave you down, but I'll cook you up something proper. I can't make any promises that it will be much better since I eat those bricks regularly." There would be no hint of amusement like there other terrible jokes he had given so far, but he did in fact take pleasure in it all the same.

Zasz Fenris was by no measure a chef. Like he said, he consumed those condensed organic meals on a daily basis. Cooking was like riding a bike, wasn't that an old saying? He sure hoped so. Even if he hadn't a clue, there was more than enough material he could retrieve from inside his helmet's database, at least a few basic recipes. If his taking up of horticulture had proven anything, it was that Zasz could read a book and follow instructions, and that is what primarily made up cooking in his mind. His attention turned to the screen embedded into the counter, tapping a handful of commands into it whirred mechanisms behind him to action. Several storage containers opened up to reveal a selection of various vacuum sealed ingredients. Bags of indistinct contents were pulled in a hurry to allow doors to seal shut, only he was left staring at them on the surface before him. A steak and a few sides, he could do that much at least.

Thick digits awkwardly brought pots and pans down from overhead, handling a knife with trouble to make delicate cutting motions. The preparation was done in concentrated thought, and only after everything was set in place to heat up did he turn his visage towards Alex in the background. He'd wave her over to sit at a stool behind the counter while he chimed in once more. "Not that I want to speak for you, but you probably want to wash up, or just soak for a while--after dinner that is. While you do that I'm sure I can scrounge together some clothes that fit you." Now what a man that spent the majority of his time encased inside a metal suit would be doing with even the slightest semblance of female attire was food for thought in its own. The answer came quite simply, if one knew his hobby though. Considering he couldn't very well have his collection wearing the same drab outfits day in and day out, every now and then Zasz needed to adventure out for awkward shopping ventures; that or take their wardrobe along for the ride. The latter a rather difficult and less probable venture more often than not. Though she wouldn't be able to tell, he had his gaze on her again, perhaps for the best as his obsessive stare was unnerving at the best of times. "You say you'd be able to fix my replicator? So I'm to assume you're good with a plasma torch? I'm not pushing anything on you, but this hunk of junk is always in need of a mechanical eye."

Never was Zasz to let an appraisal of an individual's worth to him pass by.

The slab of seasoned meat sizzled on top of the grill which had no flames to speak of, in the pot next to it were a mix of greens, and another filled with some kind of red fluff. What was done was done, and though he couldn't smell what he prepared, by the directions it should be complete. Zasz piled the collection onto a plate without finesse and placed it over to the open section of the island where there was room to sit as well as another container of fluid from his coat.

"This should be miles better."

This had to have been quite the sight; the massive, daunting figure that Zasz was, slaving away in the kitchen to feed a scrawny red head who had more enthusiasm than her feeble body should have been able to put out. Company rarely suited the the hunter, but he could live with this strange woman for a little while anyways.

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - danixiewrites - 05-27-2015

Despite her internal resolution not to cringe, when the captain laughed and lifted a hand, her body had other plans. A rush of ice invaded her veins. She shrank further into the cushions as if deflecting a blow, and hated that she did so even as she forced herself to straighten, to lean in to whatever punishment might come. But he wasn't turning on her for her obstinacy. Oh no. Fenris was...laughing at her.

Ordinarily, not a reaction she found pleasing. But thanks to the rash of "Kill me now? Yes/No" scenarios running through her head, entertaining one's maybe-decent rescuer was infinitely more pleasing than getting offed without so much as a word.

Not that getting offed with words is really a preferr--geez, brain. Just shut. Up.

"It's inedible, is what it is, but it's good to know I wasn't captive so long that all food is now...this," she said under her breath. Energy was energy though, and Alex needed everything she could stomach to get her body working right. Righter. More righterer. Moons, this is going to suck like a Delmarrian jungleoid hyped out of its tentacles on shrooms and mistaking tourists for pollen... Staring down at the green brick of 'essentials', she stuck out her tongue. Done making faces--for now--she steeled her mind and taste buds for a nibble of one of the corners. After she choked the bite down, she said, "The IV may have been more humane. Not that I want that again. I don't. Just. Thanks."

She subsided, nibbling reluctantly while he walked away. As he spoke, she stared at his feet, trying to make sense of the sound that should have been there with a construct so clearly heavy.

He knows what happened. Moons...how can he say that so fact-like?

Curiosity was both boon and curse to Alex--though she didn't usually connect unfortunate results directly to her inability to sit still when there was a puzzle to be had.

In this particular instance, she very much did not want to think about being 'beaten within an inch of her life' or her 'secrets laid bare'. Especially not spoken about in that mechanical, clinical tone, as if it'd happened at some point in history and not just the other day. Curiosity came to a galloping rescue. But rather than wonder what he was doing with all those cabinets, it had her focusing on feet. She leaned forward, head cocked to the side, trying to see if the boots had a reason for their tapping sounds rather than loud, clacking thuds she expected. His heels lifted slightly when he moved. So that helped. And she could just about tell if...Frag. He stopped. Well maybe I can...oops.

WHUMP!

He was busy pushing buttons and making things move in the kitchen space, coming to a stop in front of a counter that looked remarkably clean considering the rest of the ship when Alex overbalanced into a sprawl on the floor. She'd been bent at the waist with her head nearly upside-down as she considered his footwear, and so first she smacked her head on the table. Then her already weak legs failed to stop her fall. And her arms had the tensile strength of the tattered shirt she wore so attempting to catch didn't go so well, either. She rolled, her hands sticky and leaving twin streaks on the floor, the green bar in one fist--of course--not-so-miraculously intact.

"Well," she muttered to a haphazard pile of books when she could breathe again, "that was graceful."

At least his back's to me...

Hoping no one would notice when she found herself in a particularly ridiculous situation was another remnant from her childhood that she hadn't been able to shake. She supposed because, however much of a habit it had become, it was quite often grounded in truth. Whether because she had no wish for this, too, to be entertainment, or whether she simply didn't want someone's pity offer for help, she couldn't say. Alex did know she didn't want the big lug of a captain over the stove to see her face-first on the ground in her own--and maybe others'--filth.

Because she'd suddenly realized part of the bar's flavor had a bit to do with her own smell.

Okay. Step one: Do not cry. Step two: Get the frag up. Step three: Find the cleanser.

Somehow before he turned around she managed to ease herself upright, climb her palms up the front of the couch, and then wriggle up the worn surface so her butt was perched on the edge of the seat.

"I would like...okay." She'd been about to ask after the soak he mentioned regarding a more immediate timeline. She had. But that smell, even a just-emerging scent of it was worlds better than her recent revelation. Her stomach growled.

Step three: Find the cleanser. Eat real, solid, glorious, incredible meat.

"Meat. Oh, Captain Fenris." She pushed herself up and didn't think she did too poorly a job hiding the pain her most recent fall had heaped atop her form. Scooting across the room to the counter at a pace and gait best likened to a floundering shuttle, she added, "You're a saint. A deity on some backwater forest moon, aren't you?"

On a good day for her, the stool would make a good lounge chair--combined with the counter. Like hanging out at a port bar with all the local xenos and humans alike. But right now? She was possibly the exact opposite of spry, and definitely the exact opposite of coordinated. A sluggish nod was sent his way as she used the last of her present determination to hike herself into a stool too tall for simple sitting. "Mechanical engineer, yeah, I was, before they bagged me. I can fix anything. And if it doesn't need fixing, I can make it...better." She paused after that vague-yet-bold statement, her eyebrow going up as she saw her elbow had rudely smeared goo on the counter. "Except me. More of a machine fixer than a doc for biologicals. Though, have you ever seen a doc sew himself up? That'd be a sight, right? Or maybe you have and it's actually pretty gross...now that I think about it, it's probably really fraggin' nasty. I'll stop putting that image out there now."

She chattered, deciding the green block of stuff really had helped a great deal while the smell of meat grew enough to overpower her other concerns. Mostly. Pain was still a constant companion. And when a plate settled in front of her, before she'd taken a single bite she was thrilled. Alex stared at it like he'd offered her a holy relic, gray eyes huge in a gaunt and dully freckled face. "Thank you. Thankyooou. I would kiss your feet but I already tried to figure them out once and it didn't go so well so I better stay up here. What are you using, anyway? Hydraulics? Dampeners? Or are you just WAY lighter than you look?"

OH GOOD. Now I've also insulted his weight. Fan-fraggin-tacular Alex. High-fraggin-five.

"Uhm," she said, as if by continuing to speak it'd negate any earlier misunderstandings. Turning the plate in a 360 circle, she tried to decide what to shove in her mouth first that would result in less idiotic words leaving her face. "So what kinds of things need fixing around here?"

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - Ghostly - 06-02-2015

Most of what Alex had to talk about while waiting for the meal to be served went over without much comment from the often stoic figure, far too focused in his effort to cook to provide a witty dialogue in return. He did however, enjoy the imagery put into his mind of a doctor trying to perform surgery on himself, which assuredly had happened a time or two. If fact, he had been required on occasion to replace malfunctioning or worn down implants when no other service could be called upon. Needless to say, Zasz did not have a delicate touch, but he did get the job done until he could have an appropriate technician work on him. After plating the thrown together dinner, he'd go about trying to clean up the mess he'd created; which ultimately came down to throwing dirtied dishes into a flash cleaning unit.

"Quite the inquisitive gal you are." Like most of what the slaver had to say, it came out as a blunt statement rather than holding any sort of inflection that came along with normal conversation; clearly neither of the pair could be considered "normal." Her speaking in a matter of fact manner held much less of a chance to insult Zasz than say how a little green plant woman that he had encountered on Radius months before. Only after his attempt at blowing off her hand did he find out her name, Kreska. The off hours bounty hunter still kept a grudge against the abrasive, rude attitude he had dealt with. There would be a special dark hole to throw that spry spitfire in when and if he ever came across her again. This was neither here nor there though, the moral of the story was that despite how Alex felt her words might have been taken, she was perhaps in the best of company for just that.

"I'm certainly not as light as the noise I seem to put out." A mechanical chuckle to follow, and if she were to stick around the man for extended length she'd learn to pick up on his true feelings even through the vocal modifier. There was no simple way for Zasz to show off just how his suit operated without opening his flesh up for display, and despite his interest in the mechanic, their relationship was nowhere near on that level. Even Rocket rarely glimpsed at more than the neck up over drinks, and she aided the man in fixing up his armor after a few bad scuffles. "A mix of both." With surprising dexterity considering he was encased in a metal shell, Zasz would slip his arms out of the winter coat to let Alex see intricate work that made up the torso piece. "Underneath the plating is a superfine cushion layer that serves as a general sound dampener. There is a hydraulic system in place as well; to conserve energy, beyond that it's merely an assistive tool such as controlling the feedback from my joints impacting surfaces." Zasz could talk for ages about just the enclosure he was situated in to fill several collegiate theses on the subject, having another individual that actually wanted to listen only allowed the topic to flow seamlessly. Unfortunately, both had far more pressing affairs to deal with than body modification.

First off, his ship was practically held together with tape and string. Even though he had a more than reliable mechanical engineer on call to make repairs, her patience had long since worn thin with the demands Zasz kept in terms of pricing and time to complete said repairs. These days he called on the strong armed lass for her expertise, and more so for consulting on how to go about getting someone else to fix with his technical woes. Also, if she ever challenged him to a drinking contest, he was down. The score was forty-nine to seven his favor, yes he was keeping track, and yes he was cheating with how liquor was filtered out of his bloodstream before ever having the negative effects, not that he'd ever let Rocket in on his secret.

Always a schemer, Zasz eyed this rescue as a potential boon to bring in fresh blooded talent to fit his ever growing needs. Whether or not Alex Winger would be the right match was yet to be determined. At a glance he definitely admired her determination and personality, but her underlying motives and actual skill with a precision torch and circuit boards still was to be discovered; even with her boasting about her abilities before. It was always best to err on the side of caution till proven otherwise. With her asking what actually needed a looking at Zasz beamed quite the grin from under his helm. What a good girl.

"What doesn't is a better question. Right now, my concerns are on finding a way to cut back on electrical draw that the generators pull when not in a low power standby mode. I sometimes have to cordon off crucial infrastructure just to make a quick jump." Shrugging at the issue, Zasz phrased it as though it couldn't be helped, or that he had been dealing with the problem for a while now, because he knew full well what ate up the ship's energy; his holding units that Alex was by no means privy to yet. "What I do need to have checked out though are the stabilizers that I'm pretty sure are close to non functional at this point. Last time I tried to dock I nearly collided with the station." Needless to say, the port officials were less than pleased in the disaster he could have caused, but were at least thankful it had not gone down that road. "Probably wrecked them in a rough skip I made a few weeks back. Been told I need a new heating coil for the engines because of that as well." If Alex were to spend an extended stay aboard the Greenhouse, then surely she'd find countless run down or outright busted components in dire need of an overhaul.

Whatever choice she'd come to, Zasz wanted it to be natural, not because of any arm twisting from his perspective. "I'm just talking to talk though, I'm not putting any of this on you. What I do want you to do after you clean off that whole plate, is head down that hall. Second door to the right will be personal facilities you can get that grime off of you." Motioning with one of those massive gauntlets to one of several exits to the room while he spoke, Zasz glanced at a notification on the edge of his HUD.

Exiting spacial warp in: five...four...three...

"I'd take hold of the counter." Would be the only warning the captain gave to the redhead as his magnetic attractors on the bottom of his boots activated to secure him where he stood. Opening a rift in the pitch black of the void, the prison ship peered into view it's sizable length taking a moment to exit before the wormhole closed behind. While looking graceful from a distance, inside would be a sudden jolt from what had been a calm ride prior. Even clamped to the floor Zasz upper form shifted to the side, causing him to take a firm grip of the surface closest to him. All of this lasted but a few seconds, but at the end of it Zasz said the obvious. "Whatever is the reason for that needs to be looked at as well."

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - danixiewrites - 06-07-2015

Alex offered a shaky smile at his laugh, the kind that dissolved into beatific wonder as he shoved the coat from his shoulders. With her left hand she began to test the food on the end of a utensil. Her right slowly stretched across the counter toward the tech he was presently explaining. Her fingertips hovered at his sternum, tracing seams and rivets in the air, moving toward his shoulder and then toward his neck. The distance kept was a combination of things, the length of her arm being a strong deterrent, as it hurt to lean her midsection against the counter. But both not wanting to smear gunk on a stunning suit of tech and not knowing how her rescuer would react to a stranger mauling him in the hands-on, lost-in-fascinating-things world Alex had a tendency to embrace were cause to stay her hand as well.

Yes, probably it was a very good thing she wasn't close enough to lose herself in running her hands all over his suit.

"Fantastic," she mumbled around a mouthful of something passable as roughage. "And is it merely super functional plating, or more? There's a lot of components...It's not like, plugged into you, is it? Or actually you? I'm not judging--I've seen both. Worked with folks in both situations, though you know, a lot of them don't talk much."

That might have been the reason she wasn't fond of the overtly cyborg look, for herself. Because however much she hated her freckles, however much she had to fight to have her accomplishments seen as useful, she did like being unassuming and small. So long as she didn't open her mouth. People overlooked unassuming and small and quiet and in most cases, it was just fraggin' easier to work when no one considered you important enough to bother. She also rather expected using tech as part of one's person changed that person. Made them...less human and more...whoever owned the patent. If she were ever to get implants, she'd want them somewhere discreet, and WAY less bulky than any part of the suit the captain was encased in. Somewhere not noticeable to someone on a passing glance or during a conversation; she'd both want and need the edge.

Unfortunately, depending on where in the galaxy one was, that didn't leave many places for modification, and since she had zero tact and no interest in shoving a computer up her hoohah, the Agency had given up on trying to sign her in for their elite programs. No sense dressing a mouthy danger-prone engineer up to mingle in nothing but a couple slinky strips of fabric and her hair to cover up, no sir. Baggy cargo pants and a tank top and an antisocial spot in some maintenance tunnel somewhere? All the way.

Of course, not letting the Agency stick their tech in anything but her tools also meant that she always had a way out if she wanted. One that didn't involve trying to find a chop shop in order to get some tracking signal cut out of her flesh.

"But you're talking a little. So I guess that's a moot point. What does this do?" She wiggled her fingers toward the side of his face. "And obviously you can see me, right? But can you see me, see me? Or is it some funky infrared screen? Or code? Or multiple vid screens funneling in like some kind of insect-vision? Or neon green with white dots to tell you where...it's not important. I...it's been a really long time since someone's let me...moons, I'm mangling this."

Because he hadn't gotten angry at her speaking or asking of questions, because he hadn't beaten her to try to make her speak or answer questions, now apparently even her chastising thoughts were going to come out of her mouth.

Alex wanted to beat her head on the counter. Maybe hide in the cleanser for a year. She did neither. She took a breath, and considered what actually was important as she began to eat in earnest. The list of things that needed done on the ship, for instance. Which was a lot. A lot of pretty fraggin' important things.

"So I've gone from one demolished ship to one that might very well become demolished on attempt to land?" She snorted, inhaled red fluff the wrong way, and wound up coughing. When she opened the second packet of liquid with as much finesse at the first, he'd probably have some inkling that her table manners left a little to be desired. Either that, or he'd assume she had devolved to living like an animal during her time on the Diem Vuong. Alex considered that after she'd stopped choking herself, and vowed to do better next time. "No, no, and I'm not insulting your vessel of rescue, I swear. It's just after that rinse the first thing I need to take a look are those stabilizers."

It hadn't occurred to her not to get to work on the things he brought up, even as he seemed to assure her it wasn't necessary.

"I'd also like very much to make sure we don't simply explode somewhere random. Especially after you went through the trouble of rescuing me. It'd seem like a waste, you know? ...Will we be aloft long enough for me to wash up? Or do you think that will be a problem?"

The latter two were rather cheeky questions, said with a grin that indicated Alex was feeling far more like her usual self than should have been possible. Yes, she was the sort to bounce back, but the degree to which she was shoving down her most recent experiences...

Even Alex was aware her brain and body and pain tolerance would catch up to her eventually.

She had hauled the plate close enough to hug and was working toward finishing off everything but a little more than half the meat--"Best for last," she pointed out, even if he could care less that she wanted to compliment rather than insult something, and may as well begin with his impromptu cooking--when eventually came far too soon.

Rather than take hold of the counter as he suggested--a suggestion she didn't actually register--she delighted in another piece of hot, real food. The hard knock of the ship zipped her thin frame right off her stool, plate, utensil, and drink packet following to the floor and adding to the already mess.

There was an unnatural pause in her body, the calm before the storm, she supposed. An unsteady, sobbing laugh escaped at the notion that this list of his must be damned endless...and then things went multicolored, gray, multicolored again, and red. Bloody, bloody agony, every vein, every nerve like she'd been forced out an airlock, her mouth gaping like a fish and her mind unwilling to shut down the swell of memories, questions asked, answers unable to be given.

Face down like this, one could see the lashes criss-crossed on her flesh, layers and layers of interrogation sessions barely hidden under ribbons of somehow intact clothing.

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - Ghostly - 06-13-2015

Eventually, if Alex was to take on the role of his personal mechanic for the less than legal endeavors Zasz often partook in, then she'd come to learn that he had quite the obsession, or rather a borderline fetish with implants and augmentation. Even more than his suit, he himself was a technical marvel. Numerous biological functions were carefully monitored and controlled, pace either expedited or halted entirely for optimal performance. That required circuit boards in the back of his skull, wires fed into brain tissue. Entire or partial organ replacement, his bones hardened through a process that wove titanium into the very structure of his skeleton; there was not even a description for the excruciating level of torment that treatment put him through. Needless to say he considered himself a work of art, and insisted that others feel the same. With how Alex was inspecting his armor with assumed fascination, he practically beamed with an unseen pride. Alex would get the opportunity to fully explore his enclosure, if she could improve it, then all the better. Beyond that, it was going to be so nice to not have to place his faith in back-alley surgeons to embed black market augments into him for quite the hefty fee. She may not have had any skill in mechanical to physical installation, but there would be ample days for her to be taught.

Her mood improved significantly with a plate of food for her to ravish at with gleaming eyes, this was the right choice by far, even if it had been an inconvenience. Her attention was amply split between analyzing just what he was made of, and stuffing down one bite after another. "I assure you, I am quite alive beneath this exterior, but it would become somewhat complicated to explain exactly where the suit ended and I begin." A vague statement followed by a shrug of his shoulders to show off interlocking plates that allowed for complex movements, but not providing too much of a window to strike at the more vulnerable mechanisms under the surface. These were questions he loved to provide answers to. An inquisitive mind like hers was always welcome, as long as thoughts did not stray far from where they were located. "I have a thermal, motion, auditory sensors built into the visor underneath the outer layer. I can see you just fine as well visually with two optical cameras that feed into my display." Her determined attitude in regards to urgently fixing up his craft was met with a mute response, not sure how to meet her eager desire. While he did want Alex to repair any an all issues she came across, especially the ones he himself gave up freely, she was of course going to wander. Unless he was to constantly shadow her wherever she went it was unavoidable that the freckled femme would discover his enclosures, and if he were to do just that it would arouse all the more suspicion.

This was a tough bind to be in without resorting to less than desirable methods.

Zasz had not expected the red head to be flung from her position to the floor in such a violent manner, as he'd never come close to such an outcome in all of the jumps he'd made. Thinking on it though, he did have a means to prevent his body locked in place, while she was simply as he saw her, fragile and in dire need of recovery. In hindsight, he probably should have known better, even attempted to keep her from ending up face down on the cold metallic panels at their feet. "Are you okay...no, probably not." Correcting himself mid-sentence, Zasz released the magnetic clamps holding his boots firm with audible hum of micro-generators dying down. Returning his winter coat to cover up his torso he'd step around the counter to find Alex seemingly crippled yet again. There was no stopping the man from giving a shake of that helm of his. Rescuing the poor thing was off to a bit of a rough start, that was for sure. This all had purpose though, he was to save Alex, garner unwarranted trust, and use her potential skills for his own benefit. Surely there was some boon on her end as well, but Zasz couldn't say for certain what that might be at this point in time.

He wouldn't ask for her permission before taking a knee before her crumpled figure. The slaver had seen the scars before, but now with an even more exposed view through tattered rags that barely constituted as clothing they were all the more laid bare. Whether he wanted to or not they'd be burned into an eidetic memory to fuel a revenge that he had no real part in fulfilling. As graceful as a man his stature could, he'd slip thick gauntlets under her chest and waist, hoisting the girl into his arms as he did when she'd been unconscious prior. "I can give you something for the pain, if you want that is. Maybe you're a masochist, I couldn't say." A dry laugh, even behind the mask at his own joke, poorly timed and awful in every way. Honestly, Zasz was never known for a decent sense of humor. Hell, he wasn't even positive she was coherent enough for a reply. Rising to his full height, he'd roll her in his grasp so that she had her front to his own, then he'd carry on down towards the hall he'd motioned at moments before.

Lights overhead flickered with a fluorescent glow as he passed under, and the door he'd mentioned would slide open with a press to the pad with an awkwardly outstretched finger considering Alex was still held securely against him. Inside was a living unit of sorts, completely barren of arrangements apart from a bland rug to cover the steel flooring. That was until a switch was flicked on. Like the storage units for the ingredients in the kitchen, panels from the wall opened up to allow basic furniture to decorate the room. It was still rather small, and now cramped, but it would serve its use, and was at least clean from his own disuses. Beyond one more closed entrance would be an individual cleanser facility; what it entailed he wasn't certain as it never saw use from the captain.

Alex would be set down upon the wool blanket of the bed, not sure what to do with her at the moment. Could he even believe in her ability to wash up without injuring herself further? "You can rest here for a spell if you want, or rinse off what must be an awful build up of filth." Pausing momentarily he pondered whether or not to stay. "Do you need assistance in that? I'd rather not have you collapsing for a fifth time." Yes, Zasz was keeping count: out of the ship, in the shaft, off of the couch, and out of her seat. This was likely condescending, but as she was under his care technically, he didn't see her as having much space to argue.

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - danixiewrites - 06-21-2015

Her ears were ringing and she could tell the man deep inside that glorious tech suit was talking, but she couldn't understand him to save her life. Maybe he'd resorted to a different language. She couldn't grasp the thought for long to consider what it might have been as pain continued its crashing with ever harder waves.

She was moved--scooped, really. The floor dropped out from underneath her, then the wall moved, then her nose came to rest in a thick jacket. The captain smelled of her recently cooked meal and cigarettes, and while she couldn't for the life of her determine why that seemed such a reassuring scent, she flinched through the pain and burrowed her nose in deeper. It wasn't like she knew him to enough of a degree to make that determination--all she had were his actions thus far and the direct comparison to her last shipmates.

It was nice, after all, that he didn't smell like things that reminded her of blood and rough hewn questions and impending death.

Plus she was alive with a full belly. Even if that living didn't feel too brilliant at that precise moment.

Slowly his words registered, as if it had taken her brain extra time to translate.

"You don't get many girls over, do you?" Alex panted through the hurt in a voice that scratched along the insides of her throat like a plas-saw. "Taking me to a bedroom and offering to drug me to oblivion: so smooth."

Wiping the back of her hand over her forehead left a sticky trail behind, but at least the sweat gathering there wasn't threatening to drip into her eyes any longer. She took gulps of air and her hands flexed as she tried to conquer the pain again, to haul it back in. Techniques that had worked under torture didn't seem to be working as well under this semblance of care. Her response continued in halting speech, understandable but jolting to and fro. "Do I want something for the pain: FRAG YES. But something that will make me useless? No, thank you."

Not that in her present state she was capable of...anything. She just didn't particularly want something that would make her feel like she was drifting. Nothing that would make her feel out of control in a situation that truthfully? Was completely out of her hands. That was another reason she'd agreed so swiftly to take on the repairs he mentioned: Nothing made her feel more competent and in control than working on tech. Then too, she remembered all too well that coming down off a painkiller while pain was still being inflicted hurt like she imagined it would to have a supernova shoved into multiple orifices at once. And Alex didn't want that, anymore than she wanted the pain or the fade. So a standstill it would be...unless the choice was taken from her.

Her fists curled tight. They spasmed open again on a swell of tormented nerve endings.

When he mentioned cleaning up again her freckles caught fire. No, she was in no shape to tackle a unit by herself. Of course she'd make it five. And frag it anyway but that comment meant he had seen her roll off the couch while he'd been working over her meal--or one of his cameras had. She tipped up a corner of her mouth in a rueful smile. "Nnn...Alex, could you be any more pathetic right now?" she asked, aloud and gruffly and frustrated, and then added to herself--she thought--Just rest. You don't need a rinse. Honest.

"It seems I've already destroyed this blanket," she joked in a rasp to Zasz. "So I might as well stay put."

It also seemed that nausea had been waiting for that statement to make itself known, and her stomach turned as if her body were rebelling physically against the decision. If she couldn't stand herself, it would make recovery even more time-consuming and she'd be all the more pitiful...and useless longer still. She grabbed for his sleeve, wincing as the pain threatened to drown the flesh involved with the fast movement in terrified screams. "I'm kidding, I can't--Please don't leave me lying here in this."

Begging was perhaps more uncomfortable than pain.

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - Ghostly - 06-28-2015

Zasz did not often find himself in these sorts of situations, rarely was he a savior in the literal sense; he saw himself as such naturally, but from an outsider perspective he was but a simple kidnapper. In this moment with Alex there was a strange coupling of feelings towards their current relationship, whatever that happened to be. The end goal was her trust, and or loyalty towards him, failing that, a practical business partnership where she'd pass an eye over his less than savory occupations and perversions. The offer to help wash the abused redhead up had been said personally as a slight mock to her present state, but with a feeble clutch to his coat and a pained plea from the girl it was rather difficult to deny her request, especially when keeping in mind how this could manipulate future interactions; Zasz kept a tally of checks and balances as though playing an intricate game of chess with another person's emotions.

There would come no relenting sigh, or chiding remark as the slaver had been doing prior. It wasn't fair, nor did it serve him any in digging further, and with how she had been acting since the second they had met, she clearly did not desire to show weakness without a grave reason. "I can't scrub away what they did to you, but at least you won't have to be covered in the remnants of that awful place." Mechanical in tone as always, even words meant in comfort had a cold designation, but as stated Zasz never much saw himself as the gentle, caring sort, though his next efforts would be quite contradictory. Kneeling down, he'd again hoist her as carefully as possible into his arms, this time holding her chest to the broad frame of his own upper body. Supporting the mechanic's insignificant weight by using his forearm as a seat for her, he'd take the several steps from one tiny box to another, door sliding out of the way without the input from a control console. This unit was stark white in its paneling, though kept sterile despite what had to be the same level of disuse as the living quarters.

Dividing the room was a ceiling high glass wall. On the entrance side was what appeared to be a sink and cabinet with a bin for clothing and what was assuredly a toilet in the opposite area of the narrow space. Slowly he'd lower he to her feet, though never let a sturdy limb out of her grasp for more than a brief spell in order to remove his thick jacket and secure it on a hook behind him; a cord held up solid black pair of fighting pants and they'd join his coat on the hook. Naked, but not quite, he'd then turn to Alex his visor refocused on her shaking figure. "I am in fact, on the farthest ring from smooth." In this he had to let a laugh go if only a quick and quiet one, as if to try and stress his intentions. "I promise, regardless of how I carried you to a bedroom, offered you drugs, am about to strip you down, and then stand by you while you're showered down. My intent is anything but what it may seem like." Metallic digits wouldn't hesitate in pulling torn threads over a pile of greasy, fiery locks, and the same would be done to what remained of leggings to let her step out of. The clothes were best burned, but would be otherwise ignored for now. Zasz was by no means a shy man, nor tactful when it came to nudity considering his occupation in collecting others for him to stare at. His gaze while obscured should not have been assumed in ogling over a battered woman's form, and it wasn't, but there was no way to not see her in such a pitiful mess all the same.

A gauntlet took hold of a handle far too small for his stature in the middle of the translucent barrier to pull open the door for the two to enter inside the actual cleanser. At a glance there was no gleaming how the the module worked, though if one knew Zasz it would be about as utilitarian as it got. "Been ages since I've used this honestly, so I can't say I quite remember how it goes." A pause came next as he scrolled through a significantly tedious list of ship commands. Most were forgotten about because in truth the captain only required a few inputs on a regular basis; the rest were either automated, or useless for a day to day purpose. Zasz didn't vocally mandate the cleanser program he decided upon when he did in fact find the program for the unit, instead he looked above just in time to catch a set of nozzles above them dropping down from formerly hidden slots. "Think of it this way, after all is said and done, you only have room to grow in my eyes." Never stopping with the horrible jokes, he laughed as hot streams of water fell from above in curtains to drench the two.

About as sealed as could be, there were no leaks in his perfect suit; as long as the pressure did not overwhelm the exoskeleton he could survive in the depths of an ocean for as long as his oxygen supply would last. Eventually he'd have an aquatic transfusion attachment installed to negate any submersible threat entirely, but that was a low priority. Clear fluid changed to a bubbling sea-foam green spray that was likely unpleasant to the touch, but designed to practically envelop an individual and separate oil, grease, and filth with the next cycle of water that rained down. What came next was a rotation of the hygiene phases, two times they'd repeat to insure at least a relatively successful procedure. After ten minutes or so the two were being dried off in what was essentially a wind tunnel of warm air being circulated around the square enclosure.

With a sudden silence of machinery, it was done, and Zasz shrugged at the entire ordeal. Were he not a man clad in metal armor, he'd probably have invested in a bathtub, but as it stood, this was as good as it got on the Greenhouse. There was no point in standing around much, letting her walk, but always allowing the support of his arm, he gave a motion with his free hand to his own pair of dry apparel resting on the hooks. "They'll be a bit baggy on you, that's for sure, but it will have to do till I find something more your size. Not like I need to wear anything anyways, I'm just a creature of habit."

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - danixiewrites - 07-02-2015

"Thank you," a bare murmur as she was bundled into the next room--a stark block of a thing that practically shouted clean, the unidentifiable, stinking goop that she consisted of made even more evident against scentless tile and glass. Alex winced as he set her down, despite his apparent precautions the jolt of pain caught at her skin, tugging at the edges of bruises trying to heal, and new ones from falling. She shifted on her feet and a sucking sound followed the movement so she stilled. Why did it feel like her feet even touching the floor infected the cleanser?

She snorted quietly as he left her clinging to his arm while he stripped.

Insofar as a man encased inside a metal suit could strip. The suit.

He's going to go into the cleanser in a...suit? Wait. Does that mean he doesn't bathe? Does that mean he never takes that thing off? How gross must it be in there... It was the kind of series of questions she'd normally have asked aloud. Curious yet insulting because it was Alex and Alex lacked a galaxy of tact despite her efforts to the contrary. Had Captain Fenris known her, he would have been concerned by her relative silence, even in the short term. She stared dazedly up at him and snorted again.

This snort turned into a gasping laugh, the kind that had her wincing into silence because the demands of irony versus her gut just wanting all the pain to stop NOW had a pretty clear winner. Forcing it back down her throat as he decided it was her turn next, she clung tighter to his now "nude" suit. Had she not been in such pain, she would have taken the opportunity to explore--he was occupied, after all, and surely wouldn't notice as she tapped and prodded at the human-encasing instrument.

But no. Her knees were like some kind of unset polymer, her vision was blurred, and her head felt like a vise were about to crush her skull inward. This was definitely not her best side, so she could only hope he'd come to view her through her engineering skills rather than "that stowaway who falls a lot".

Alex shook her head at her clothes with a flicker of a smile at his joke--recalling her earlier tease. Then she nodded at the ones he'd hung on a hook. "I hope you weren't attached to those...and I'm sorry you'll probably have to recycle them. After...this." She made a halting attempt at a sweeping gesture down her front and at the same time realized through the haze that she wasn't just motioning toward the filth on her skin that would have transferred to him as he carried her but also the bits that had managed to remain clean beneath fabric. A half-squeak, half-moan came out.

But it was far, far too late for modesty, wasn't it? After everything she'd been through on the Diem Vuong? Alex blushed like fire, a flush spreading up from her chest, flaring over her neck, and filling her cheeks with the blaze of embarrassment all the same. He probably won't notice the freckles. A small consolation while he maneuvered them into the cleansing unit. Then, Oh shit. He totally will when this thing does its thing.

So at some point between now and the end of the wash cycle to come, she had to get herself under control again.

Easier said than done, when a tsunami of actual water engulfed her in white-hot laser fire. She barely heard his words, his laugh...and she didn't find them funny. Especially coupled with pain. Too many memories flicked to life with the particular combination. Alex gritted her teeth and locked her knees, determined to get through the interminable humiliation without breaking down. Goop of a decidedly different sort coated her head to toe, but it took the rest with it, every shred of muck from her experience. As promised.

The air was far more forgiving but also revealing in its sweeps; now every mark on her skin would be visible to the naked eye.

Oh nonono! Why did I have to think 'naked'?!!?

The blush erupted again.

Alex followed his motion again toward his clothes. The wrinkle in the bridge of her nose came as slowly as every movement she made now, trying not to sabotage herself with another chain reaction that would land her face-down on the floor in front of him. "Uhn. Pass."

"I'll sleep like this, just so I don't have to touch anything from that ship again." She motioned toward the sleeve she'd been clinging to, and the lapel she could barely see against the wall where he'd hung the jacket. "Thank you," she winced at a sharp pain as she shifted around her footprints on the floor, "though, Captain."

Maybe not anything, she reconsidered after wrapping one arm around her waist. Could she? Her engineering mind was starting to pull at her again, trying to give her an escape from the pain, something more present to focus on than memory. She'd much rather be concerned with the suit under the fingers of her other hand than the Diem Vuong, but it was too late, her brain had already chosen a target, was running down blueprints against her will. He was contemplating tossing the ship out the airlock...but what if the repairs needed here are bad enough I really need the spare parts?

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - Ghostly - 07-04-2015

Alex was not entirely wrong that Zasz rarely separated himself from his suit in order to cleanse himself. Again, at this point how could he considering the extent that the captain connected himself between flesh and metal? Still, there were measures against the confinement filling with a foul odor from his body's natural excretions. First off, his internal faculties were so closely regulated by machines that even under extreme circumstances his body more often than not did not need to control his temperature by releasing sweat. In the same manner, his regimented intake of solids and fluids created, well, a minimal impact in terms of waste that could be discretely removed. Regardless of those, enhancements as Zasz called them, there was likely a stale air to be found inside his enclosure that was by no means pleasant, not that he'd notice with how much time he spent inside.

His potential engineer did clean up rather nice in his opinion, in spite of her personal misgivings. The slaver preferred them small, 'them' referring to both his few allies, and marks alike. Those blazing red locks went well with her skin tone and rather abrasive personality, not that he didn't understand that his own was anything but enjoyable to be around. The bruised she carried would heal in days, but the lacerations down her back would more likely than not scar over and likely would mar her form for a lifetime. If she desired there were procedures out there to replace one's skin with a dermal microfiber weave which in sense would serve as a sort of armor to protect one's spine. That was what Zasz would have done, anyways. If not then they gave Alex character, wounds to carry from here on out to spit in the face of her captor's best efforts to break the woman.

Clearly embarrassed, though over what the man could not deduce with her color, even the slightest of a blush shone like a beacon to match her hair. Zasz did keep his lips sealed for once instead of giving a quick chide in as they walked. Reaching down he picked up her tattered remnants of her attire while aboard the Diem Vuong in one hand and letting Alex take hold of him with the other. "Of course, I get that fully. I'll try and piece together and outfit for you to wear with a bit more haste then, unless you're fine prancing about with your bits out. There isn't another soul here, so I won't judge." There would be a brief laugh from the larger fellow, both at the thought of her doing just that, but also at the fact that they were anything but alone. With how low the pitch of his voice was though, it came through the filter as a series of hums. Momentarily, he let go of his mechanic to retrieving his jacket and pants before he'd head back into the living quarters, leading Alex back over to the bed. Collecting the blanket in the same grip as her filth covered garbs, he'd pace over to the wall opposite them to push in one of the matte grey panels. Tilting out was a chute to what likely would lead to either an incinerator or another cleanser unit. Everything but his coat would tossed inside before closing it shut, but he did venture back to the bed to sit down on it for a moment.

Without so much as an explanation, the said article's pockets were emptied onto the fresh linens, and those seemingly infinite voids were shown to have quite the varied cargo. Three more packets of water tumbled out, along with handheld device the size of a beauty mirror, a crumpled pack of cigarettes along with a less damaged one, and a worn leather journal with one silver pen hooked under plain black cover. What was remained were a collection of tiny glass vials, whatever may have been in them one could not say as they were nondescript in appearance with clear fluid inside, and a data-pad that Zasz snatched up as though it were the key to what he had been doing.

"From what I've seen, and from what you've said, you and I both know that if I were to lock this door it wouldn't very well keep a mind like yours contained here for long. You are not my prisoner in any way, and I can only request that you don't leave until I return. If you do please refrain from wandering any father than the common room you were in before."

Keeping matters vague was certainly not the smartest method in trying to passively detain someone, but with how she had to have felt and was acting, some rest without the threat of another beating looming on the horizon must have sounded like a prescription to be happily taken. While he had been monologuing, his fingers had been inputting commands into the tablet which he'd then give over to the woman. "For whenever you're ready there are the schematics of the ship to pick your brain with, so you an idea of what you'd be working with." Gathering up the belongings back into his jacket he left only the hydration packs, the tablet, and the circular device which he'd then tap with a lone digit. "Two way communication, just press the button on the back of it and talk. It's a big place, I'd like for you not to find yourself lost in it if something comes up." From there he rose from his sitting position and kept his coat tucked under one arm as he departed from the bedroom. "Try and get some sleep, Alex." Would be his parting words before the barrier closed behind him.

The blueprints he put into her care were indeed quite a detailed inspection of The Greenhouse, what would be a touch outdated were the holding cells that signified that this was either a defunct, or current prison vessel. What he didn't need her questioning was why just one sector of the ship had more advanced tech running than the entire collective. Zasz would go with an abated hustle than he usually marched with, thinking that his stowaway would stay put for but a short period of time instead of roaming about.

Zasz's destination would be the only place on the craft where one might find a pair of women's clothing, and that was the prior mentioned detainment units. Like before, overhead lights illuminated the spacious deck as he entered with silent steps, the soft glow from behind transparent walls lessened with a greater source of light. Who would fit Alex best? Likely not anyone with lace and frills, even though he so loved to see his pets in such. Passing by one chamber to the next his gaze wasn't met with the usual complacent peers captives. Instead every now and then he'd catch just a faintest curve to their lips, a fire behind eyes he was not expecting to see in those kept secure for so many cycles.

Something was awry.

A hand went to the side of his thigh to remove a baton camouflaged along with his suit. With a swing it elongated to full length of two feet. In this his stride became more of a sprint down the metal plates under him, until he came to a cell that made him grit his teeth from behind his mask. Apparently the princess he had captured had a bit more fight to her than he had been led to believe, and that he had underestimated just how much heat she could put out. As Zasz ran a hand over a opening in the clear polymer that had until this point managed to keep all others inside he cursed that he'd need to shell out even more credits not only to repair the damage, but to have something designed that could not be so easily torn down through extreme temperatures. Even the defensive measures inside had been scorched, blackened beyond designation. He'd have to review the tapes at another date, but he did set his hud to scroll through the camera inputs throughout the vessel to try and triangulate the Ifrit's location. A good start were the numerous feeds that simply rang back as dead, which meant they were either offline, which didn't happen, or destroyed like the one inside her cell.

Placing the markers of the cameras over top of a layout of the ship plotted a path of her scurrying about without a clear idea of where she was heading. It did lead back the way he came though, towards the front and away from the brig. Shit, his gun was sitting out in the open, not that it would hurt him per say, but he had another to think about right now.

"What a pain." Zasz grumbled turning on his heel to make a mad dash back to the common room.

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - danixiewrites - 07-16-2015

For someone so purportedly "not nice", he was being quite kind. It made her all the more determined to reclaim some space once they got back to the bed, which she did by scrambling up on the linens and pulling a sheet around her like she was working on fashioning a dress. Wouldn't do to have him get bored of the assistance--too easy to label someone who needed to lean on another as "useless", in her experience.

Prancing around with her bits out, indeed. Alex snorted, her amused retort coming out in a drowsy drawl. "Duly...noted. But ritualized dancing around the bridge will have to wait until after I get a nap--THEN it's show time."

While it was true the rinse had done an effective job of restoration--at least mentally--he needn't have worried. For one, sticking to the route he'd outlined would be more difficult than he'd seemed to expect; he might have the suit for guidance, but she'd been so out of it she could barely remember the directions he'd given, let alone the path he'd carried her through. For another, she was exhausted, so she simply acknowledged his request with a nod. The bed might lack a coverlet but still had sheets, and she had every intention of taking advantage of a clean, cool place to sleep and no one oppressively waiting to rip her from her dreams and hauling her away to ask questions the hard way.

Or that had been her intent, until he started handing her tech.

"Schematics?" she visibly brightened, straightening from the sagged position she'd adopted on the edge of the mattress. Suddenly muddled directions didn't matter. Thoughts of rest warred with her ever-present curiosity, the latter rejuvenated simply from the touch of the device in her hands. "Thaaaank you. I'm looking forward to getting my hands on all her parts," she said and paused while perusing the tech, without seeming to realize how that might sound. After a moment she added, "Especially the ones that make the ship do that sideways jump thing. And the ones that might make it explode. Mmm...yeah, probably all..."

Alex promptly got lost in the screen, nodding absently as he said something about communications and then headed for the door. Her nose wrinkled when she lifted her head long enough to see he'd left with his coat slung over his arm, and she rubbed the freckles over the bridge of her nose once the door had sealed. "I hope you're taking that somewhere to get decontaminated!"

With a roll of her shoulders, the comm went under her pillow and one liquid packet was torn open, its contents swallowed without pause; the other two lay untouched by her side. She slid to prone on the bed. The tablet sat propped on her stomach where she could get a good angle on the screen.

"Okay. Then this direction would be..." Alex played with the device until she'd identified a few places that would be likely to house broken things, but exhaustion was a slippery thing. She wasn't sure when she dozed off, nor how long she was out, but when she came to the datapad lay off to one side on the bed with its screen off. So it had to have been longer than 5 of so minutes; without interaction it'd slipped into a power-saving mode.

She sat up, testing her threshold for pain. Pleased, then, she grinned that the bulk of it had settled down into a deep ache that fitted her bones. Anything was better than the jarring stabs of nerve endings that had lambasted her all at once. Of course no pain at all would be preferable, but given more time to heal aboard Captain Fenris's ship, the aftereffects of systematic torture would fade in time. She hoped.

Feeling positive with that thought and the tech once more tucked into her palm, Alex carelessly bounced off the mattress. A cringe tensed her entire body as her heels sent a jolt straight up her spine, but the pain passed--a reminder to explore her new home slooooowly.

More reminders would be forthcoming. Slow and careful were not states of being one tiny woman with a innately curious mind and a penchant for tinkering was all that familiar with.

Alex looked about. The room was as barren as before, the promised clothes not in sight, so she either hadn't been out that long or it was taking quite a while for a man who really had no need for clothes at all to find something suitable for a guest who was half or less his size. A grin crossed her lips.

"As long as one might expect, really," she murmured as she tabbed the screen on the schematics back on. "He's probably gotta have something made; 'less he's got some from prior salvage."

Her fingers wrapped around the two-way comm and with a laugh she decided it was better not to ask. Who knew why he'd have fished women's clothing out of a ship's corpse--but if he wasn't going to judge her wandering about nude, she probably had no room to question kinks.

Probably.

Wrapping the cool top sheet around her torso and waist, Alex knotted the fabric firmly between her breasts. She turned on the datapad and with her nose practically buried in its screen shuffled out the door in her toga.

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - Ghostly - 07-25-2015

Bare lithe limbs painted a brilliant crimson red practically danced through the halls of the Greenhouse, flowing hair ablaze trailing in her wake, though she knew now was far the time for celebration. Still, the princess couldn't help but keep that smirk of hers well placed on otherwise regal features. The woman had outwitted her captor in an almost too simple fashion, his enclosures meant for the likes of far more broken individuals that she had taken note of on her initial walk of shame through the prison. Did he not know who she was? Just who had hired this thug to steal the beloved Princess Russlion away from the throne? The mere thought of her being apart from her people seared imprints of her soles into the metal under now less flamboyant steps. Emotional outbursts of her kind were dangerous to say the least, even more so for those of the royal bloodlines. Orbs filled in an abyssal black glared upwards at another rotating camera and as if on cue glass shattered and the frame warped under what was some sort of pyrokinesis. She had not traveled back the way Zasz had led her, lest she run right into the man. He was still a threat even without the collar he'd slapped around her neck that jolted her into submission in the first place. Towering nearly two feet over the girl and clad in a suit of iron, he'd break her in two with even a single strike. The flames she could figuratively spit were mighty, but not strong enough to melt through solid armor. To cook him alive would take minutes in a conflict she didn't have.

Instead, a message needed to be sent out, a distress beacon back to the Russlion homeworld. If they could track where she was being held, their ships could pin down this vessel and force the slaver's hand. How long she had to perform such a miracle was only until he discovered her escape. A saving grace to Jallee's efforts was that it appeared that aboard this massive craft, just the captain remained the only one not in chains. She had free reign bar an unfortunate meet up with Zasz. Receiving a hiss from the another set of doors opening, she found herself in an environment with a stark difference in design from the inner corridors of the dilapidated Greenhouse. Unfamiliar to her was the spacious common room that Zasz had passed through not more than a minute prior on his way to where she had been; this was quite a spill of bad luck for the man.

Jallee looked visibly put off at the conditions her kidnapper seemed to inhabit, that someone of her status had been stolen by some sort of mercenary slob with a fetish for keeping small women locked up behind glass walls. An oddly specific depiction, but hers had always been a wandering mind. Trying her best to tip toe around discarded papers and half smoked cigarette butts, she stumbled over to a pair of couches where one item caught a gleam from eyes that were hard to judge the focus of. There lay right where Zasz had left it, his suppressant shotgun atop the cushion. Digits unsure of how to grasp the weapon wrapped around wherever they could take hold, pulling it up awkwardly to her naked chest. At certain points in her upbringing she'd been taught in matters that were not particularly befitting a princess, for instance how she felt confident in her skills at interfacing with the Greenhouse's systems to send out a call for help. What she had never been trained in was handling firearms. What was a relatively compact gun for one of Zasz's stature, served as a means to block a significant portion of Jallee's upper body. She didn't know what sort of weapon this was, so she assumed it to be threatening since it belonged to the slaver.

What she had to do was make her way to the front of the ship, to the cockpit so she could figure out how to get her location out to those that could send assistance. Somehow she'd managed to avoid the captain, and hoped she could keep it that way if only for a little while longer. With an apparent boosted confidence and a sway to the curve of her nude hips, she stepped forward without care of what smoldered under her heels.

It was quickly shattered as a strange noise was forced out from worn vocal cords when Alex wandered out from the hall and into the same area. The redhead was dead in her path ahead, not more than twenty feet with a face buried into the tablet. A shaky finger on the trigger, the woman hadn't intended to fire, but it came down to just that. The barrel was thankfully directed more to the side of the mechanic, so the pellets spread out to shatter whatever fragile panels in the background were impacted. Despite having a suppressed burst, the kickback was certainly enough to catch the unprepared Ifrit and send her to her rear, the shotgun clattering away out of reach. "Owww..." Dazed and confused and in a weary voice, she looked up to the other woman trying to determine just what was going on.

Zasz around this point was discovering that his "well made" plan had gone awry, and was on his way back, minutes away as he often seemed to be.

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - danixiewrites - 08-11-2015

Alex was utterly lost in musings over the ship's configuration and which areas might possess the parts she'd require to shore up the most critical points: namely, the parts of the ship that seemed likely to evaporate like smoke should they get within sneezing distance of...anything.

And over here could probably use some TLC. Is there a medbay? Hmmm...I can jury rig the boosters if the captain would let me dismantle smaller tech...but is it worth it? I mean, if the ship's in such piss-poor shape that it's literally clunking around space and threatening to fall apart underneath our feet, we might actually need the medical equipment intact...

It was a good thing the hallway was a straight shot from this point, or she'd have smacked right into a wall. She didn't register anything amiss until a weapon discharged in a wreath down the hall over her shoulder, and even then it was a severely delayed, startled leap against the same wall where the bullets had embedded themselves. Realizing that her instinctual reaction had been the exact wrong direction, Alex rebounded with a kick of her toes to the near wall and landed in an unfortunate heap--Oh, son of a fraggin' supernova! How many times is this, now?--against the opposite one. Had a second shot followed the first, she'd have been blasted in the head.

As it was, she was shuddering with pain--though less than before so that was a bit of a stars-blessed boon. Alex found herself cursing mentally over the damage to the wall, having already internally claimed his ship as hers to keep afloat in the vacuum beyond while she remained aboard to rely on it and had life left to do so. Finally, she fumed at her companion and rescuer aloud.

"Oi!" she shouted. "You coulda said you only wanted me around for target practice!"

If she'd stopped to think about it, past the panicked relief of not actually taking a spray of pellets to her front, she'd have realized Zasz would never have missed. The assumption dissolved when she peeked her head out around a sliver of molding and spotted a glowing heap of limbs and ember in the living area.

Bits of the floor were glowing with residual footprint marks, edges of the furniture were smoldering, and THERE IS SOMEONE ELSE ON THE SHIP. Who'd shot at her. Rude. Alex immediately flailed around for the two-way Captain Fenris had gifted her, patting through yards of white toga, scooting the datapad aside, tunneling through the sheet until the smaller device was trapped in her palm.

"Hey question," she began, her voice a little breathless with intermingled pain, concern, and surprise. "When you search transports for salvage, how thoroughly do you look for signs of life? Cuz you missed me...and I think maybe you missed others. An other, specifically, just now."

Unless, well. He'd said he was the only CREW...and that they were the only SOULS...so maybe this one was a soulless lady passenger with that fiery aura; maybe she was supposed to be there. "Unless I should have been expecting a...uhm. A bright red naked fire-lady with a...shotgun. Is that even a thing? I didn't know that was a thing."

And she'd been around. The numerous systems and ships she'd served or spied in she'd met and lived among some of the strangest creatures the universes over. But those had usually been commercial routes, she considered, and the stars were vast. Perhaps this one had snuck aboard from a people who came from more enclosed communities, or considered themselves too advanced to deal with humanity or the federations, or insulated themselves on their homeworlds and blocked themselves off from trade.

Whatever the case, fire-lady'd had terrible aim and didn't seem in much better shape than Alex herself at the moment. After a long moment, Alex lifted her head from where she'd bent it to the comm, then gray eyes met wide orbs of black so deep they were almost purple.

"I don't know where you come from...but I'm not sure I want to visit if your traditional greeting is a shotgun to the face."

Welcome to the Greenhouse [Closed] - Ghostly - 08-18-2015

Jallee all but assumed her fate sealed. A rookie mistake in believing a self-assessed solitude to her captor's operation apart from those locked within cells. If Alex was allied to Zasz then she'd strike the intruder down while her limbs still were shaking from the vibrations of the shotgun's recoil. There was no second shot to be made, and she doubted she could focus those oculars on the other woman to set her toga aflame. For better or worse, both were incorrect in thinking a followup attack was imminent, and this confused the crimson skinned prisoner. Hands clawing at the smooth metal floor, she tried to imitate Alex's maneuver of taking cover, making back over to the couch and hiding behind the smoke soaked cushions. Words were shouted out in a common tongue that she'd been taught as any one of her status would be. The Russlion empire was a secluded world that most would never even pass by, but there were diplomatic talks of sorts between certain groups which required a baseline level of communication; as would be her job after her coronation, whenever she could find a way back. Was the redhead dense as dense as she sounded in talking to herself? Though she couldn't understand the what she was saying at this distance, Jallee herself felt quite stupid in realizing that there was someone else to contact on this craft, and it caused her to press her forehead against the furniture in shock. So much for keeping to herself out of his path.

Zasz had been sprinting in relative silence, though his thoughts were racing faster than his feet. His suit glided like a well oiled machine, and his breath was steady despite the workout he was surely getting; a testament to the kind of beast he'd designed himself to be. The two way line he'd given to Alex pipped up with a notification on his screen immediately followed by a less than stable voice of the one he hoped to woo into his service as a mechanic. Verbose as always, Zasz quickly saw through to the point Alex had been trying to get across with passive aggressive insults to his skills. The princess had made a straight dash to the front of the vessel, for what reason he couldn't be certain. Any attempt at escape was futile, they were all entombed in this prison as long as it drifted in the vacuum of space. Avoiding the question directly while he gave himself a wide berth to come up with a logical excuse for encountering the Ifrit. "Most of what I salvage is quite lifeless, less intact than the Diem Vuong. Your case is an...outlier." Coming from within his helm his tone was without software modification, far less monotone than what most were privy to. Irritated inflections were now exposed, and his gruff, thick speech was very much foreign to the typical core wolds. "You were not expected to encounter her." A sigh, Zasz rounding a turn, he knew this ship like the back of his hand and was closing the distance between the two in record time. He couldn't tell the truth, he wouldn't, rather--not yet anyways. "I can explain more once they're subdued. Do not get near her, don't even let her look at you if you can help it. I'm on my way." That bought him precious minutes to find a way to bullshit the princess back into a new cage with adequate precautions. "She's...dangerous." He added as an addendum, one of the most blunt, and not to mention legitimate statements he'd made all night. The fact that she had gotten a hold of his weapon was proof enough his warning.

Taking it as though Alex was taunting the royal blooded maiden, Jallee stood up from behind the plush furniture with a sneer on her features that was most unbecoming. "You would be far from welcome since you keep company with a man like him. I'd have you turned to ash before you could even set foot on our soil." Stepping free of her laughable means of safety their eyes met, a pair most alien in every way focused on simpler greyed hues. Whether or not she had been completely serious in that threat was impossible to discern without context, but Jallee meant what she said with every fiber of her being. With a furrow of her brow and lips tightly pursed, the staring contests was broken as the Ifrit glanced over to the scattergun that had been dropped unceremoniously. If Alex was not to make the first move then it was her loss to be had, Jallee Russlion would take this woman barely more dressed than herself hostage against her hunter. If she was not behind a glass wall, then she had to mean more than those vacant gazers she'd left behind in their cages. The gun had been thrown backwards, landing closer to where luminescent girl was now pacing towards, her muscles were still somewhat strained from improperly firing off the shotgun, but she was far from in shock at this point, adrenaline kicking in with full force.

With the passing seconds the temperature would have been noticeably increasing from what had been a cooler climate setting, to a dry heat that seemed to suck the moisture right out of the air. Thin arms stretched gracefully down as she leaned to heft the firearm back into her digits. However, her attention would be shifted quite rapidly to the door at main entrance behind her, past where she had entered. What she saw did not surprise her so much as struck a unique terror in the bottom of her heart. Zasz was there of course, and the man had grown in such a short manner of time to be a greater nightmare than the frightening tales parents used to tell children back home to steel their emotions against wanton behavior.

Zasz had no such fears, wasting not a second in his movements as he took lengthy strides through the long room; that faceless mask of his was undoubtedly starring daggers into Jallee. His own tool was aimed at him and fired in haste, but without soft flesh to impact, the pellets were nothing more than gnats bumping into a window, ricocheting off into the various surfaces around him. In seeing no effect on against the slaver and him drawing ever nearer, she'd try her luck at another barrage, but by now her emotions were running wild, the weapon slipping through her now red hot grasp. With a gasp at her own error, she had run of of the gap that kept her safe from Zasz. Even if she though the gun would be of any use, she had not a second to pick it up from the floor anyways, and even if she did, the materials would just warp around her grip.

Like a rod of iron placed into a furnace, Jallee lit up like a small sun; she had no choice but to take him down here and now. 'Just avoid those gauntlets.' She thought with her pulse pounding through her skull, stance dropping low to dodge an outstretched grab at her blazing locks. Ducking under his legs she'd rake her fingertips across the back of his knees hoping to cripple him, but there was no opening to get through the plating, only having seared imprints to show for her effort. Despite his size, Zasz rotated on his heel without much more than a grind of his boots into the flooring and had his checkmate. Jallee tried to separate her from his immediate reach, but like before he made for a fistful of her shoulder length hair, only this time she was far from able to outpace her trained and augmented oppressor. Tethered by entwined strands in his grip, a violent tug brought out a cry from the woman, then a slew of incomprehensible screams in a language that sounded heavy and dark. When he finally turned her with one more pull he'd take hold of her narrow neck with his other hand and lift her off of the ground as though she were a feather. With contact made, electric current ran through her figure involuntary spasms wracking her while she cried out for help. In this desperate struggle, she was perhaps too bright to look at and the temperature around her far from comfortable.

White hot fingers were flailed up at Zasz while she dangled helplessly. In her last few moments of consciousness, she'd manage a slow dragging swipe across the frontal plate of his helmet; audible damage being done as circuits overheated and glass plates shattered under the surface, not to mention an ugly palm print left across his face. Once Jallee went limp, her skin returned to its original hue as though she were doused in water, and the heat radiating off of her dissipated as well. Zasz wanted to toss her like a rag doll, but instead slapped a flexible neon collar from his gauntlet around her bruised neck and placed her down on the couch.

Right, now came the hard part. In that he made to observe Alex who had been witness to far more than he hopped for her to have seen, at least at this phase of his plan. "About that explanation." Is what he attempted to say to the redhead as he began to walk over to her, but he came to a halt midway as his cracked visual sensors went out one by one, and he realized that the speakers had been shorted out. Reaching up, he unclasped his helm at the neck and lifted the ruined piece of hardware off of his head, holding it at his side while giving a less than pleased look at this outcome. "If anything, this answers that I am not a bot." He was always one for jokes, though usually behind the inscrutable mask he wore. Now his pale mug was out in the open; one green eye in the right socket, a mesh of wires wrapped around a blue lens in the other. A clean scar ran vertical up the side of his lip, but other than that he was free of any discernible marks; save for the augments plated into the back of his skull rather visible from his clean shaven head. "I'm sure you have questions, but first off, are you alright?" Zasz was anything but sensitive, but he did understand that this required a delicate touch and was not about to throw her into a cell just because he could.

Unless he had to.