Log Date: 10/20/98 Log Cast: Jonathan Webb, Shenneret Veery, Brouillard, Venus Log Intro: If one is in a sympathetic mood, one might remark that Corellians are persistent individuals. If one is _not_ sympathetic, one might remark instead that they don't have the intelligence to recognize "no" for an answer when they hear it. On any given day Shenner has to admit -- though she's not about to admit this to anybody but herself -- that she's ambivalent about Corellians in general and one Corellian in particular. But she's not so ambivalent that she's unsure whether she wants to encourage the attentions of one Loren Jarnes, drummer at the Sandbar. And on this particular evening she's averted his interest in a manner that's gotten him undeniably out of her way, with the side benefit of leaving _her_ feeling no pain, even if it does mean Shen has a bit more difficulty finding her way home than usual.... ---------- Webb can be found, at this time of night, sitting upon one of his deck chairs outside his front door, leaning back and gazing up at the clear patches in the sky. This is not the ideal time of year for stargazing on the planet Caspar, it seems. A voice begins to wend its way down the street, a single husky tenorish voice warbling out, of all things, what sounds like some kind of sea chanty. "Ohhhh, mother, doncha worry so, I'm bound to the quay, you see me go..." The owner of the voice wanders into view after a time: Shenner, ambling along with a lazy sort of gait, her voice a bit blurred of sound, a bit less precise than it normally is. She's got her usual leather knapsack slung off her shoulder, and one hand hooked up around its strap. Yes, the voice does strike our skyward gazing Marine as quite familiar, and he snaps out of his state of contemplation, slowly turning his head looking for the source of said voice. One side of his mouth pulls up in a momentary lopsided grin as his eyes finally spot the person who would be the source of the voice. From up on Webb's deck, you hear hands clapping together in a moment of applause for your vocal talents, as a now broadly grinning Webb has risen to his feet and is leaning against the rail of the deck looking towards you. Wha--? Not expecting the burst of applause as she goes, Shenner stumbles a bit to a halt, turning around slightly unsteadily until she locates the sound of the clapping. "Who's that?" she calls up, her voice a trifle slurred in speaking as well as singing. Webb arches his eyebrows slightly, having previously not noted the signs of possible intoxication. Still, he wears a warm grin upon his face, and raises one hand in a wave, "Taking the long way home, Shen?" "Huh? Oh... hiya!" The girl wobbles back a little, squinting up at the waving figure; Webb successfully identified, she tosses a haphazard wave back up at him. "Yeah, er, well, somethin' like that." Webb moves to the steps which run down the side of the building in which he resides, and starts to take a few steps down towards the street. Seeing as your tipsiness does seem to be affecting your abilities to get from point A to B he inquires in a slightly concerned tone, "You alright Shen? You seem a little... wobbly." Shenner straightens up to her full height, and nods, very sagely. "I'm absolutely fine, thanks. Absolutely. How're you?" Her green eyes are a bit wide, giving her an almost... _almost_, but not quite... guileless look. Webb nods his head slowly as he looks you over saying, "Doing pretty well tonight, actually." He reaches up for a moment to scratch his chin, wondering just how close you might be to toppling over, if you are in fact that intoxicated, "Just enjoying a quiet, contemplative night." Under that subtle scrutiny, Shenner stands perfectly still, with that sort of precise care that someone who is fairly drunk often exhibits over their own motor functions -- demonstrating that she isn't so drunk that she's lost awareness of those same functions. She doesn't _smell_ drunk -- at least, she certainly hasn't spilt any alcohol on her clothing; whether or not the smell of it is on her breath can only be determined by smelling it. But still, there's that slight rumpled look to her hair and her shirt, her collar open at the throat, her silver-and-brass necklace glimmering faintly there. And there's that slight guileless look to her expression, too. "It's nice," she agrees brightly. "Not raining for once. Good night for walking." Webb reaches the bottom of his steps and approaches you upon the sidewalk. "Yeah, indeed it is. I think I could use to take a walk myself. You think you could abide a little company on your trek?" He flashes another grin. He isn't exactly interrogating you about your state of intoxication. In fact, he's now content to shift the topic of conversation well away from that subject. Then again, his attempt to accompany you just might be a shameless attempt to insure that you get to where you're going in one piece, not that this is exactly an unsafe neighborhood to wander. "Oh, sure, no problem, I was just headin' back to Rekkie's anyway," Shenner says wisely, bobbing her disheveled russet head. and gesturing off down the walkway before she jams her hands into her pockets. "Takin' my time. Wanted to walk a bit." Webb nods his head a little and glances off down the road in the direction in which you point, "Sounds good then. I could use a little company." Perhaps he's had enough of staring at the sky for a while. After all, there's only so much time one can stand being alone with one's thoughts, generally. "Did you sing at the Sandbar tonight?" "Yeah. Yeah, we were all there," Shenner answers readily, though a touch distractedly, her gaze roving all up and down the street and skyward as well, before eventually coming back down in time to prevent herself from stumbling over her own feet as she strolls. "We did okay, mostly...!" Webb's pace is fairly unhurried as he walks along beside you, glancing at you rather frequently. Were you fully sober, the signs would probably be readily apparent that he is in fact watching out for you. The signs are subtle though, and the haze of intoxication might just blur them away, "Mostly?" If Shen knows she's being looked out for, she's not showing any sign of it. She grins broadly, lopsidedly, and observes as she wanders on down the street, heading for a corner, "Well, 'least until Loren thought he'd try to drink me under the table anyway!" Webb ahs an guesses, since you are still fairly mobile in your present state, and he's certainly seen people in worse condition after a night of boozy activities, "Aha. He got the losing end of that, I assume?" Shenner gives forth a husky, slurry kind of chuckle. "I got him," she proclaims proudly. "I made 'im drink three whole Corellian Suicides. In a row. Without stoppin'." She snickers, as she wanders around the corner, apparently confident of her way despite her inebriation. Webb ahas and emits a quiet chuckle, though he doesn't really admire that sort of thing really. Still, he is amused by the idea of Loren getting the worse end of things after issuing forth his little challenge. "Loren's the band drummer, right?" He thinks he remembers who you're referring to. He also seems to remember that you find Loren to be a touch on the irritating side at times... assuming he is in fact thinking of the right individual. Shenner bobbobs her head, several times. "Mmrmm," she affirms, by way of unnecessary punctation to the nodding. And she snickers again. "Some Corellian he is. Can't even hold his liquor." Webb tilts his head slightly and grins, "Doesn't exactly live up to the stereotype 100 percent, does he?" Webb's gaze shifts skywards again for a moment as he tags along aside you. As a faint gust of wind hits from a seaward direction he comments, "Rain again..." Well, of course it's going to rain again soon. If one were to arrive in Caspar in this season, one would think that's all it ever did here. He probably means soon though. The air does seem to have taken on a slightly different feeling, and quite abruptly at that. Shen snorts aloud, grinning broadly, a bit foolishly, eyes glinting half with sardonic humor and half with an equally sardonic satisfaction. "I'm sure he'll have it down in a few more years. Already got tall 'n' sexy. Just hasta kiss a few more girls, learn how t' drink, an' learn how to fly. Maybe he should get a Wookiee..." She trails off, blinking owlishly and peering up into the breeze as the rain-scented gust riffles her hair. Webb arches his eyebrows slightly as an image flickers into his mind momentarily of a certain Corellian who might fit that stereotype... though the image doesn't stay in his mind long enough for him to really recall just who you have described. He seems to remember it was someone who was supposably important though. Oh well. He'll figure it out later. Somehow though, he can't help but seem just a little amused. As raindrops drift a little on the wind, Shen lifts a slightly unsteady hand to turn her collar up along the back of her neck; the hand comes down to fidget a bit with the necklace half-hidden by her shirt. Her steps are still more or less steady, though she has to squint when a passing skimmer's headlamps momentarily blind her. "Aigh," she pronounces, stopping a minute, swaying. Webb stops next to you, turning to glance at your face as you stand there swaying. It does take him a moment to figure out just why you've stopped. The headlamps didn't really seem to have much an effect upon him, but then again he doesn't look as if he peered into them. "You alright?" Shenner blinks a few more times and then looks up at her companion. "Wha...? Oh... yeah... mmmm. Bright." She rubs a hand across her eyes, then stops and considers, peering intently to her left and then to her right. "Which way was I goin'?" Webb umms quietly, and looks back and forth with you, before eventually raising a hand to point to the left, "You looked like you were going to turn that way, I think." He shrugs his shoulders a little, because in your present state of wobbling and meandering, it could have merely been a big wobble which made it look as if you were about to head that way. Shenner considers this, peering around again, and then frowning in an oddly childlike sort of way. "Kark it," she mutters, "where the heck's 'sa right corner?" Webb peers at you curiously out of the corners of his eyes before he asks, "Where did you want to go again? Your friend's house?" Of course, Webb wouldn't necessarily know just where exactly it is that Rekkie Sheldon resides. Webb You see before you a human male who you would guess to be approximately in his mid-twenties. He stands just a touch under six feet tall, with a rather wirey build. His eyes are grey in colour, with just a hint of blue. His hair is of a shade somewhere between blond and brown, and could appear to be either depending upon the light of the room. A few small scars dot his face, though other than that his complexion is perfectly clear, though pale enough to suit some corpses. He is dressed rather casually at the moment, wearing a simple green t-shirt, khaki coloured pants, combat boots, and a jacket made of some form of brown leather. A pair of sunglasses with small, rounded lenses rest upon his nose, and occasionally slide down far enough for his eyes to be seen behind them. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Combat Armor Shen's green eyes meet Webb's blue-gray ones, and she bobs her head firmly. Seven or eight times, as if repetition can strengthen her ability to relay the point. 'Yeah... yeah... 'swhere I'm goin'. Rekkie ain't home yet!" The young woman makes a little sniggering noise, confiding mischievously, "She an' Tethra hadda take Loren home." Webb smirks a little and gives a slight shaking of his head, as he asks, "Okay. So where does Rekkie live then?" in an attempt to help you find your way to where you're supposed to be going. This, too, receives due and solemn consideration from the young musician. It seems to take her a moment or two before she intones thoughtfully, "New... castle... Circle." Webb hrrrrrms quietly and looks about the neighborhood. After a scant two seconds of analysis of the surroundings, he turns and points back to the intersection that the two of you just passed, "I think we were supposed to turn back there." "Ohhhhh," murmurs Shenner, in tones of enlightenment dawning. She flashes her companion an enormous smile of gratitude, and promptly lurches off in that direction, intending to investigate. Apparently not bothering to consider that her current state might be responsible for the span of time it's taken her to get home thus far, she remarks as she goes, "You're handy. Better 'n' a map...." Webb flashes a rather broad grin at the last remark, and turns to follow along with you. That remark also illicits a rather amused, prolonged chuckle before he asks, "Oh? Am I?" "I don' think I could read a map right now, see, pal," says the girl, her tones drawn out and softened by whatever it is she's imbibed this evening. She cuts around the corner and wanders off down the walkway, her hair riffling in new directions as the wind fiddles with it, and once, she pauses at a spray of fine droplets blowing down into her face. As she does, her gaze lifts upward, and there's a hint of vivid appreciation in her features for the contrast of tattered clouds and stars adding interest to the expanse of city-lit night sky overhead. "I'm a l'il drunk. Jes' a little." Webb feigns a moment of disbelief as he asks quietly, "You are? Wow..." and looks off in the other direction for safety while a smart-assed grin momentarily crosses his expression. Once he has successfully reigned in that little impulse his gaze casts back to you, looking upon your expression as your own gaze casts skywards, as if there is something intriguing to him about that 'hint of vivid appreciation' that shows on your features. "Yeah," pipes Shen, "I had _four_ Corellian Suicides." Grinning absently, she wanders along, though half of her attention is on the windswept clouds overhead, in apparent fascination. Webb nods his head a little and inquires, "Ouch. You don't say?" though he's certain he's already heard you tell him that little tidbit about tonight's activities once thus far. Shenner can be heard to snicker, even as she peers down the length of the block, at the next upcoming street sign. "Kept 'im from kissin' me," she proclaims triumphantly. Webb ahs quietly and nods his head and says, "I thought the guy seemed to pay you an awful lot of attention." Indeed, suddenly your state of intoxication seems to have some form of half-decent strategy behind it... even if you wouldn't have been able to find your way home with any level of ease without assistance. Shenner's features draw together into something that, if she weren't so inebriated, might be a scowl. "He likes me," she mutters in petulant tones. Webb ahs quietly, then furrows his brows slightly in a moment of silence, before he asks, "Is he the one who you... um... hurt?" He seems to remember hearing something from Ariani once, about Loren ending up in rough shape after attempting to put a few moves upon you. Shenner lurches to a stop, finding it difficult to concentrate on approaching that street sign and listening to her companion at the same time. "Wha?" she asks foggily. "Oh... yeah... I punched him." She makes another of those near-scowls; in her condition, the expression is more like a pout. Webb forces a straight-faced expression as he asks, "Is it just me, or does he seem a little too persistent for his own good?" Shenner stumbles into motion again, her gaze fallen down from contemplation of stars and fragments of cloud as she weaves a course for the upcoming street sign. And she issues a disgruntled little snort, observing, "'Sa Corellian, 'sall. Don' wan' no Corellians kissin' me. Tried it. So I punched 'im." Webb blinks a few times after you mutter your way through the explanation, and attempts to decipher the slurring. Eventually it must catch, because a look of realisation dawns upon his face, "Ah. I see." The redheaded girl thrusts her chin out defiantly, though in defiance of what or whom is anyone's guess. She doesn't elaborate, at least for a moment, and finally staggers her way towards that sign. Stopping there, she wobbles a little on her feet, while squinting blearily at the script that designates the names of the streets intersecting at the corner on which she now stands. Webb taps you on the shoulder as you stand there trying to read the blurred street-sign, and points off down the road in the direction that we should be going to get to Newcastle Circle. Brouillard arrives from North Mergansar Ave. Brouillard has arrived. Brouillard passes between the two lampposts and walks up the driveway towards the Bluffs. Brouillard has left. Shenner blink, blinkblinkblink, blinks. "Oh yeah," she mumbles, and lurches about in the new direction. That's all she says for the time being, as more rain begins to moisten the breeze, blowing in sporadic gusts. Oblivious to the change in the water, Shen walks with one hand absently curling around her necklace, pulling it forth from her shirt. In contradiction to her lifted chin, her eyes go a little plaintive, and she hums snatches of something sorrowful-sounding under her breath. Webb's ears strain to pick up the tune as he wonders if it's anything that he might have heard before. Eventually he shrugs his shoulders a little and asks, "Don't particularly like Corellians?" Whatever it is, it doesn't sound like anything Shen's sung in the Sandbar before. She trails off then, and blinks at the young soldier escorting her, before blurting, "Didn't say that..." Doggedly, she keeps lurching along, the defiance draining a little out of her expression, the plaintiveness rising. Venus has arrived. Venus has left. Webb shrugs his shoulders a little and says, "Oh... Just not Loren when he's... ah... that affectionate then?" His questions are a little quieter now, and his... joking tone has perhaps faded a little with the rise in your plaintiveness. "Jus'... don' wan' no Corellians kissin' me," Shenner mumbles, her grip growing tighter on the necklace as she approaches another corner. Her gaze looks rather distant now; it might be anybody's guess as to whether she's actually paying attention to the direction she's lurching. Webb is however paying rather intent attention to the direction that you are lurching in, and occasionally supplies little cues as to which direction you should turn, steadily and surely insuring that you are going to get where you should end up. To that statement he just nods his head and says, "Oh." Somehow he guesses that this isn't /purely/ rambling brought on by the Corellian Suicides you had earlier. Under the subtle guidance of her companion, Shenner is, indeed, eventually seen safely to Newcastle Circle. The girl falls into haphazard humming again as she goes, that hand of hers still clinging to her necklace, her muzzy green gaze still occasionally roving all over her surroundings. Occasionally, she starts at the noises of passing skimmers, and once, at the barking of a dog in someone's yard. Webb looks at you for a moment. Webb takes a curious glance at the pendant that your hand clutches. Yes, he has seen you toying with the necklace before. One of these days, perhaps he'll figure out just why it is that you do that, but it seems to be that you often clutch the pendant while thinking about something rather intently. Of course, he can't exactly tell what you're thinking about. "One... two... three... one twenty-three..." Shenner eventually thrusts forth an unsteady slender finger, pointing out one of the houses on the quiet Circle. "Thas' Rekkie's house. I gotta go there. Home." Webb nods his head faintly, his eyes following the pointing of your finger, "Okay... um... you want to turn me loose here then?" He pauses for a moment before he comments, "It looks like a pretty nice place." Venus has arrived. Venus passes between the pillars and disappears south. Venus has left. Venus arrives from North Mergansar Ave. Venus has arrived. Venus smooths her hair, nervously but gracefully walking in the residential district. She eyes the apartments, looking for /one/ on particular. Venus has left. Webb has left. [A nice place it is, indeed, and after making sure that Shenner actually gets safely into the house, Jonathan Webb goes about his business. End log.]