Log Date: 6/20/99, 6/23/99 Log Cast: Webb, Shenner Log Intro: After having a vehement argument with her sword-teacher Jairen in the Sandbar, a deeply shaken and upset Shenner fled up onto the bluffs around the city, bent on letting herself vent her feelings and cry in private... but as it happened, she discovered her soldier friend Jonathan Webb already in the little nook to which she'd headed. Stressed and worn down himself by recent events, the Marine encouraged Shenner not to run away from him, and the soldier and the singer found themselves taking comfort in each other's presences... but once Webb made the mistake of implying that Avy Laarken wasn't doing her job and might have to be removed from the office of President of Caspar, Shen grew furious all over again. Insisting that anyone who wanted to go against Avy could fling themselves out an airlock, and that if the planet wanted to turn its back on Avy then Shenner might as well leave it, she stormed down off the bluffs, leaving a disturbed Webb behind. The distraught singer has since then returned to her apartment, and after calling the Sandbar to alert them she won't be in to sing, she's shut herself up in her rooms with brandy, chocolate, and a holo for company. But she doesn't know that Jonathan Webb has remained troubled by their encounter all day, and has decided to come and do something about it, even if it's now fairly late at night... ---------- As a gear-laden Ranger striding through your apartment might attract a bit of undue attention, Webb's chosen method of entry is somewhat less... direct. It might take a few moments to figure out that the knocking sound that you hear is upon one of your windows, rather than your front door. A bottle of Corellian brandy, almost gone. A box of the most expensive chocolates she could get her hands on, finished off half an hour ago. And a rented holovid player, currently obediently playing the recently released _Thieves of the Sacred Scrolls_. These have been Shenner's companions of the day, and in her darkened apartment, she has watched the holovid three times in a row, with only enough time in between to get out Rekkie's twelve-stringed guitar and strum plaintive chords to the walls around her. Now, with the guitar propped against her secondhand couch, Shen is lying slouched there watching the holographic image of Thane Grayson currently engrossed in poring over the sacred scrolls of the holo's title. She's been mouthing the lines along with the actors this time through the movie, and at the faint knocking at her window, her brow crinkles in irritation at the interruption, not caring what it is. "Shuddup!" she bellows raggedly, while the tense soundtrack swells from the holovid player. It might be an unusual thing for a Ranger to knock before entering through an apartment window a good distance from the ground, but nevertheless, Webb knocks again, quietly rapping a gloved hand against the pain of glass, before he lowers himself down a little more to scrutinize the window, attempting to ascertain the least destructive way of opening it. What, another knock? Deeply perturbed, Shenner barks "Pause!" at the holovid, freezing the intrepid Thane Grayson just as he is confronted by the villain of the adventure, now that the scrolls have been found. The young musician lurches up to her feet, shoving one hand through hopelessly disheveled russet hair. Whatever that noise is, she intends to shut it the kark up so she can continue watching her holo. Blearily, she stumbles into her little bedroom, where the the larger of the apartment's back windows can be found. Having defeated the locking mechanism after only a bit of minor tampering, Webb slowly coaxes the window open wide enough for him to ease himself through, so by the time you make your way into the bedroom, you find a camouflage clad individual standing before the window, steadily easing off his helmet. Though at least two blasters are visible upon his person, neither is actually in his hand at this moment. Shenner gets only as far as the door of her bedroom, the narrow doorway swishing open just long enough for her to get one look into the room -- and to see an intruder within. A blistering oath escapes her, and she stumbles back the way she came, intent on diving for the gun belt she'd taken off upon reaching the privacy of her own dwelling. The belt and the blaster in its holster are right there on the table where she'd left them by the brandy bottle, though, and her reaction time is slowed; even as she dives for the gun, she slams her shin into the edge of the low table, and another oath escapes her. Webb slowly raises his hands, opening them in a gesture of... well, not exactly a surrender, but one intended to demonstrate a lack of intent to draw his armament. Beneath the shadows of his helmet, a sympathetic wince can be seen as your 'intruder' observes your rather graceless, apparently painful dive. "Uh. Hi." Webb says as he leans over your prone form. It's the voice, then, more than any other attribute about this late-night intruder, that makes Shenner recognize the man who's followed her out of the bedroom... but recognition doesn't kick in till after she's seized the gun, wobbled to her feet, and whirled around to face him with it. Her hand quivers ever so slightly as she points the weapon, and when Webb speaks, she frowns blearily. The gun begins to come down, and over it, Shen lets out a low annoyed growl. "Kark it, Webb, I coulda shot you! What the bloody hells're y'doin' climbin' in my window?" Webb unhooks the abseiling line from its harness, freeing himself from the line upon which he lowered himself. "Got worried. Thought I'd check up on you," he answers plainly, as if he hadn't just come in through your bedroom window. "Woulda come in the normal way, but I've had to be creative lately. Had a few goons /trying/ to keep track of my movements." Taking your lack of blasterfire as some form of invitation, he begins to remove his helmet. "I'll admit to having been a little... worried." Another wince crosses his expression, this one because he has good reason to suspect that you might not be fond of people worrying about you. Shenner's features crinkle up into an expression somewhere between pout and scowl. Now that she's staggered more or less erect again, the gun coming down at roughly the same rate as she's regained her feet, she eyes Webb balefully in the faint light cast off by the frozen projection coming out of the holo-player. "'Mfine," she grunts, leaning slightly onto the leg she hadn't just slammed into the table. "Y'can go now. Out the way y'came in if you don't like the frekkin' door." At about this time, Webb catches wind of the scent of Corellian Brandy, confirming his initial suspicions that a significant quantity of it has been consumed in these parts. His nose wrinkles up faintly, though he rather quickly recovers, "Uh. Look. After all of the other stuff that happened, I think we need to talk. There's things you need to know about the situation... if you intend to protect Laarken." If the smell in the room wasn't enough evidence, the near-empty bottle standing on the table -- and the way Shenner's movements seem perceptibly slower and looser than normal -- is potent testimony to the fact that she's been communing with a fair amount of alcohol. Her half-scowl expression deepens into a full scowl, and she waves at the bedroom irritably with her blaster before flopping down on the couch, jamming the blaster back into its holster and pointedly fixing her gaze on the frozen image of the Corellian adventurer over her holo-player. "Nothin' I can do," she growls thickly. "She's got bodyguards an' advisors. She's karkin' got a Jedi lookin' out for her. An' I don' wanna talk to you. Go 'way, I wanna watch my holo again." Webb flops onto the couch next to you, in a decidedly unceremonious manner, made even more preposterous by his attire, "Yeah? What are we watching? By the way, the dead Admiral turned out to be a clone... minute discreptancies in what a doctor friend of mine refers to as 'junk DNA'. Taylor had pretty impressive security, yet somehow he got replaced. Starting to see what I'm up against?" At the impact of the Marine's body upon her beat-up couch, Shenner starts and edges uneasily away. For a moment, the musician's brow crinkles in consternation and half-comprehension, as she tries to follow the shift from the first question to the information on Taylor -- a clone?! -- to the last question. Finally, she demands, her voice rising, "What part o' get the kark outta here do you not understand?" Webb answers plainly, "That would be the part. What? You don't like people who share your stubborness? Anyhow, add to the fact that Madame President's spy agency has been running amok..." he shrugs casually as he leans towards the screen, and abruptly shifts topics again, "Who is that guy anyways? Want me to make some popcorn?" Whoever the fellow on the screen is, he's ruggedly handsome, sporting a five o'clock shadow, a deep tan, sandy eyebrows over piercing blue eyes, and some sort of desert-dweller's burnoose swathed about his head, concealing his hair from view -- but if the few locks escaping concealment to drape fetchingly down across his brow are any indication, his hair's probably a rich golden brown. Despite the fact that she has been watching this particular fellow through two and a half viewings of _Thieves of the Sacred Scrolls_, Shenner is now oblivious to him, however. She surges up off the couch, standing there eying her unexpected visitor with an odd expression building in her eyes: part dismay, part fury, part fright. "Get out," she repeats hoarsely, beginning to sound suspiciously desperate. "Don' wantcha here! Get out!" Webb shrugs his shoulders, then starts to slowly rise to his feet, tucking his helmet under one arm, as he inquires in a business-like tone, "Still leaving?" That manages to throw Shen off-balance. She staggers a little, wrestling both with her ability to comprehend the comment and her ability to keep the room from spinning around her; the combination tugs one end of her mouth down into an anxious, uncertain frown. "Wha...? No... no, _my_ place. I stay. You go. You hafta go!" Webb groans faintly and smacks his hand lightly against his forehead, "The planet, not you're apartment. You kinda seemed to find me reprehensible enough upon the beach to mutter some remark about leaving the CDU," he says as he starts to make his way back towards your bedroom. With a shrug of his shoulder he remarks, "Sorry about the leg." Shenner frowns more deeply, her eyes growing troubled, her face visibly falling. "I... I don' fin' you... reprehensible," she mumbles, after a second or two of effort to try to get that multisyllabic word out in a reasonably coherent fashion. Volume drains out of her voice, turning it small and bereft. She doesn't turn to watch the Marine go, though, as she adds, "Nobody'd miss me if I went." Webb exhales a soft sigh as he looks back over his shoulder at you with eyes that suddenly seem much more tired than they did a moment ago, "Really? Why was I here then?" In a vaguely defensive posture, Webb crosses his arms across his chest. The young woman's shoulders have slumped; her head's bowed a little, and she's lifted a hand up to her brow, eyes closed, as she tries to will the room to stop moving around her long enough to rally her senses to do something intelligent like oh, say, lie down. So she misses that tired gaze turned back to her, but something in the question prods at her, insisting on attention regardless of the amount of brandy she's put down tonight. "I dunno," she mumbles at last, defeatedly, the misery of earlier in the day only magnified by the alcohol, beginning to leak out past the stoic rasp of her voice. "Don' need me to stay. Sandbar don' really need me 'cept I can sing. Nobody needs me just 'cause I'm Shen. I--" And then, sharply, she cuts herself off, realizing dimly she's said too much. Webb is silent and motionless for several seconds, apparently in the process of reconsidering what was to be his departure. In a softer tone than his earlier words, he asks cautiously, "You uh... still want me to go?" Another pause follows, just long enough to carry a touch of awkwardness, "I'll be quiet... behave myself." With an effort, Shen lifts her head. That accomplished, she begins to try to turn around, a decidedly vulnerable expression in place now on her haggard features. As if she's only capable of doing one action at a time for the time being, there's a second or two of delay before her mouth starts to work; this, too, takes effort. "I... I'm drunk," she says unsteadily. "An'... I-I'm lonely, pal.... prob'ly... smarter if you go, but..." Webb arches an eyebrow faintly though only at the word 'but' that hangs on the end of that last sentence. Even as he nods in understanding, he has begun to approach once again, reaching out to grasp your arm once he is within reach, seeming intent on tugging you back in the direction of the couch. "A-are you gonna stay?" Shenner blurts, uncharacteristically childlike now, giving a big slow owlish blink. Apparently entirely unaware of the about-face she seems to have just executed, she lets her arm be taken, lets herself be guided back to the couch. "You wanna stay?" Webb shrugs his shoulder faintly and murmurs to you, "Sit," as he reaches the couch. Somehow, he sounds more as if offering a suggestion, than giving an order, before turns about to mysteriously disappear into your bedroom again. Shenner, indeed, sits, sinking down onto the couch into a straight-backed sort of posture that suggests she's focusing as much of her attention as possible on the simple act of sitting. Her brow crinkles as Webb steps off out of the room; then, though, her gaze drifts back to the holo image, Thane Grayson still immobilized, faced off against the villians arriving on the scene. "Sit," she mutters. "I can do that..." Webb emerges from the bedroom shortly thereafter, blanket draped over his arms. With a single deft, flourish he shakes it out of its folded state, causing it to billow out as he drapes is carefully over you. He smirks faintly and inquires, "Now, you'll forgive me for sounding like I've been living in a cave for the last decade, but what are we watching?" as he moves around to sit down next to you, after shedding various holsters, harnesses, and other bits of gear that could get a little uncomfortable if one is trying to watch a movie. Shenner blinks a few times as the blanket is settled around her; still, though, she keeps sitting there obediently on the very edge of the couch. Then, however, as her companion settles beside her, she tentatively scoots backwards till she's more comfortably in place. "_Thieves of the Sacred Scrolls_," she answers plaintively. "I-I ate all my chocolate. D'ya want the rest of my brandy?" Webb hmms thoughtfully at the offer of the brandy, then shakes his head faintly, "Thanks for offering though... uh... when did this come out?" From Webb's curiousity and... uh... cluelessness, one might get the impression that he doesn't get the opportunity to see a lot of movies. Slowly, he leans back to get more comfortable upon the couch, then halts abruptly and reaches to remove one more item of armament that he hopefully won't need while he's watching the holo - a relatively unsophisticated combat knife in its sheath - and sets it upon the coffee table. "The holo came out b'fore the war," Shenner mumbles tinily, "but th' book came out years ago, there's a whole series of 'em." She draws her feet up under her, and peers down at her now blanketed self. Dolefully, she then appends, "I had the whole series till Rekkie's house burned down." Webb ahs softly at the explanation, and scoots over slowly so that it doesn't exactly seem as if the two of you are hiding at opposite ends of the couch together, though he seems somewhat mindful of the fact that he did indeed promise to behave... for whatever reason. Perhaps, though, for Shenner, this isn't a problem. As her companion moves closer, so does she, huddling up against the back of the couch, looking small under that blanket around her frame. Her eyes, turned towards the holo, reflect back its faint illumination. "I bought 'em all 'cause I know the guy they're really based on," she murmurs absently, her voice slurred and soft. And then by way of afterthought, she speaks up loud enough for the player's audio sensor to pick up: "Rewind, beginning. Play." The image whirs, resetting itself. Webb ahs once again, and slowly reaches out an arm to drape it about your shoulders... not exactly a blatant attempt at seduction, but certainly not cold in any fashion. Indeed, if anything, Webb seems to be finding your company rather relaxing, as would be indicated by his somewhat heavy lidded eyes. His brow furrows faintly in concentration, as it often does when an elusive thought is fluttering about evasively in his brain, "Uh, hmm.... Nighman?" he inquires. At the feel of that arm sliding about her, Shenner lets out a little whimper... and turns to huddle against the shoulder of the man at her side, rather than the couch's erratically upholstered back. As the holo-player dutifully commences the beginning of the vid, the image of an elaborate three-mooned starscape over an alien planet rezzing into life accompanied by the opening bars of a symphonic piece to set a tense and edgy mood, Shenner frowns unsurely. "Did I tell you about Paul?" she murmurs in puzzlement and a flicker of anxiety. A sudden tremor courses through her frame, more than enough to be felt due to her proximity, now. Webb shrugs one shoulder faintly and murmurs, "Only hints, I suppose. But his name comes up once in a while," his voice indicating that relaxation is steadily progressing towards sleepiness, until his head tips faintly to one side. Indeed, one might wonder just how long it's been since he's had somewhere comfortable to sleep. A faint yawn escapes his lips, and he more or less slumps as he dozes off. At first, Shenner doesn't notice her visitor's apparent drowsiness, her mind still occupied with the distinctly uneasy realization that she can't remember when she might have told Jonathan Webb the name of Paul Nighman -- or anything of her history with that particular Corellian. It's the brandy, she tells herself... but on the other hand, at the moment, she isn't entirely certain she cares. Even as the Marine drops off into a light slumber, Shenner snuggles up closer to him, slipping an arm around him as if she were a small and frightened child, he her favorite toy. As _Thieves of the Sacred Scrolls_ gets underway... and the Corellian adventurer, fortune-hunter and treasure-seeker Thane Grayson commences his attempt to break into a long-forgotten ruin on the three-mooned planet... Shen clings that way to the young man who's appeared out of the night. He'll go away, she thinks mournfully. But until then, and all throughout the holo, she holds him... a talisman against being alone in the dark. Finally, though, somewhere in the middle of the search for the sacred scrolls, she too drops off to sleep... still clinging to Jonathan Webb. [To be continued...]