Drakes, Stacmon and Quesadillas

((Some of the posts for the next few days will be in first-person, as they’re reposts from when I was doing first-person stories.))

The last few days have been fairly… fun to use a rather generic term that doesn’t offer too much information while explains everything. The problem with everything being as fun as it’s been is that I had begun to both miss solid food, alcohol only being a temporary alternative; and other various issues that while weren’t really things that were problems, they were…

Inconvenient.

I mean, I know those Minmatar men enjoy their scars and points and body modifications, but I can honestly say that I do my best to take care of my skin. It’s not that easy, considering my line of work and what hydrostatic pod fluid does to your pores, but none the less nicks, abrasions and in this case rug burn, isn’t really that appealing to me.

That said, jump clones are useful in this case as I was able to move to a less… worked… clone and allow the other to patch itself up while Logan and I went on a date of sorts, into Placid low-sec. Piloting a pair of Drakes, we decided to go and see if we could find some schmucks to shoot, or some schmucks to shoot at us.

Personally I was hoping for some Caldari or Gallente Militia pilots. They tend to be flagged as the majority of them that I have come across are criminals (under the CONCORD definition), and the militias don’t bother screening. I also think I would have take a slight bit of pleasure shooting some State yahoos. (I know I would take some pleasure in shooting Federal yahoos…)

The roam didn’t take long. A small Invicta gang Melmaniel decided to follow us and engage us. There were several ships, a Loki, Cynabal, Legion… They were flagged, but outgunned us, so Logan and I decided to split.

Wasn’t meant to be though. The Legion managed to land a point on me. I turned my camera drone towards him and then towards the Cynabal before locking them both up. The Cynabal was already bleeding into armor and was burning away. Despite the gate guns beating on these guys, without Logan I decided to simply outrun the Legion and escape.

The Legion was slower than my nano-fit Drake, but not by much. That wasn’t what was bugging me though. I was at 30 km. He still had me pointed. I was also into armor at this point. Now I was worried.

“I’m warping back.” Logan informs me.

“No,” I order, releasing my ECM drones on the Legion. There’s no point in both of us losing our ships, I think to myself as I begin to overheat all of my modules trying to burn out of the Legion’s range. A gate fire catches my eye and I notice an Arazu decloak.

Fuck me. I think as a scrambler hits me, deactivating my microwarpdrive.

Logan lands on grid. Chivalrous idiot, I grin. “Welp, roam together, die together, right?”

The Arazu switches to Logan.

The ECM drones land a jam.

I warp. 28% hull.

I laugh for a moment before realizing now Logan is fucked. However, he apparently came in at range, and perhaps the Arazu didn’t actually tackle him before taking his point off of me. I am not clear on this, all I know is after the Legion tackled him, his ECM drones managed to land a jam and Logan escaped.

The pair of us docked up. I spent several million repairing burnt out and broken modules as well as my seriously damaged hull and armor. I also needed to wait for the majority of my ships escape pods to return as I had no belief that ship was living. Abandon ship was sounded well in advance. The ship was nearly empty when I docked; just those who stupidly felt it was their duty to go down with the ship remaining.

When we undocked we returned to the gate to find our ECM drones abandoned, but otherwise unharmed. ”I am glad you told me to switch to ECM drones,” Logan smiled to me over comms.

I slow boated over to my drones. “They have impeccable timing, but they will save your ass.”

We drove around a bit more, finding most of Placid empty. Deciding not to push our luck to much and calling our roam successful, we returned to Stacmon, and I docked up Losagi and cleaned myself up.

After showering and making sure everything was out of my hair, I headed outside of the small apartment I rent on the station here. I open the door and walk outside and around the corner, smiling as I see Logan standing there, waiting for me. “You certainly do change quickly,” I pointed out.

He grinned wickedly at me. That grin has become… pleasant, to me.

“Less time spent changing is more time with you,” he extended his arm to mine. “shall we? The restaurant is close.”

I took his arm and wrapped my arm around it. Admittedly, I play the same game he does, only I am genetically programmed with different parts for the game. While Logan gives me the grin, or bears those eyes on me that makes me want to just knock him to the floor and…. Well, you know… I, while being his cute date can tease too.

I pull myself close to him as we walk, wrapping my arm tight around his and bringing it close to my chest, making sure he could feel the fabric of my shirt rub up against the bare skin underneath. My eyes moved up to Logan’s face to see if I got the reaction I was looking for.

He gives me a small smile. I return it. The game is on. My eyes trek downwards. There are other ways of determining whether I have achieved the desired effect, even if Logan refuses to acknowledge my victory.

He’s a sneaky one though. He stops us, and changes our direction, moving me slightly in front of him. I mentally applaud him. He’s a skilled tactician in space, and an even more skilled on station side.

I quietly pout. So many wasted nights.

“Well this might turn out to be the less exciting part of the night after our roam.” He continues to smile. I picture the fire from the venting oxygen, hydrogen and plasma flying from the back of my Drake as limped away from the Melmaniel fight.

“I fucking hope so.”

Logan, who I think knew exactly what I was thinking about, nodded as he held the door to the restaurant we arrived at open for me. “Ladies first,” he smiled as enticing smells drifted from the doorway.

I sauntered ahead of Logan wearing dressy black pants that, if I may be so bold, fit me quite well, and a black shirt that barely reached the top of my pants. I inhaled deeply as I walked in; some of the smells were nice, though most of them were coming either from me, Logan or from the bar.

Logan inhaled as well. He seemed to enjoy it more. I guess he likes Gallente food. I will have to make a note of that. He followed behind me as we headed to one of the tables towards the back of the room, a small booth, U shaped; the U faces towards the front of the bar, giving easy view of the front door, kitchen doors to the right of the table. An easy exit.

Logan sits down in the booth. I sit down across from him, sliding into the booth, slowly scooting next to him. I look at him quickly, calculating my next move. I cross my left leg over my right, allowing it to go all the way across one of Logan’s legs. I may have slipped my boot off as well in the process…

Logan slides his hands around my leg, using his fingertips to trace up and down them. “What would you like to drink?” I just grinned and snapped at the wait staff. One of the waiters, who appeared quite annoyed turned to me.

“The biggest bottle of wine available!” I demanded. I slowly turned to Logan and grinned, my leg and foot moving around slowly, “and what would you like, dear?”

“Two glasses, and a bottle of something, and if I read that twinkle in your eye right, a bottle of tequila.”

I nod to the waiter-boy, then turn back to Logan, the grin on my face moving between something of a smug grin and that of one of a more manipulative type. “Tequila is a good choice.”

Logan laughed softly, then mock-pouts a little. “But tequila always gets me into trouble!” He ‘complained’ as he leaned back a bit, the waiters delivering a large bottle of white wine to the table, and a smaller bottle of tequila next to it with two pieces of stemware, and two shot glasses.

Logan’s fingertips trace up her my leg as he looked over towards me, handing her one of the menus on the table with his free hand. “They have some good food here, anything you fancy?”

I buried my head in the menu, faux reading it. I gazed at Logan over the very top of it; his eyes catching mine. I am certain he was laughing at me on the inside for being such a silly idiot, but it was really okay. If one could not have fun with their prey, what, pray tell, was the point?

“Nothing I want I am allowed to eat here.” I finally muttered, the menu hiding the fact that I was biting on my bottom lip.

Logan ran his fingers farther up my leg. My eyebrows raised slightly. “We could just take the bottles,” he smirks, moving his eyes over towards the glasses, “and the glasses and head elsewhere.”

I looked at Logan over the top of the menu for a few seconds; my eyes to be barely visible over the menu as I raised my eyebrows as high as they would go. Logan could sense victory.

Then I flipped the page. I turned to the waiter-boy and snaps at him, bringing him to the table.

“Can we get a quesadilla?” I asked. “Steak?”

The waiter nodded and began to walk off. I looked to Logan who had a look between ‘seriously?’ and the usual ‘fuck me’ eyes he normally gave me. The ‘fuck me’ eyes won.

“TO GO!” I yelled after the waiter.

“Make that two!” Logan also called out. He turns to me and discards the menu from in front of me, pouring me a shot of tequila and then one for himself. “Bottoms up?” He offers me the shot, smiling a little.

I watch the shot slide across the table and stop in front of me. I smile and pick it up, but instead of drinking it, I puts it in Logan’s face and ‘coax’ him into drinking it. I then proceed to ‘remove’ the excess from his mouth with my tongue, before turning to a couple of the staff who were watching.

“Drool is unacceptable.” I informed them, before drinking some of my wine. Logan looked to me and shivered partly from the tequila, the other part, obviously, from my tongue. Numbly taking the other shot he pours two more shots in front of himself. The waiter arrived soon after with our food, which we quickly took back to Logan’s temporary quarters.

“USAGI!” He yelled at me from his bedroom, the agitation in his voice obvious.

I sighed, picked up what was left of my quesadilla and headed towards the darkened room across the way. As I walked in, holding the last piece of the bit mouth, I dropped the remaining clothes I was wearing and thought to myself, Even though I am losing this game, I still feel like I am winning.

Bookmark the permalink.