Home Alone (a/k/a The Great Glassware Hunt)

I tried several times to ignore my body’s attempt to wake me, each time it proved unsuccessful. Despite that I was decently hung over and not really that chipper, I just couldn’t sleep any more. I’d managed to go back to sleep once Logan left, and slept for…

I wasn’t sure. I rolled over slightly, looking for a clock on the wall. There didn’t seem to be one. Needed to make a note to myself to buy Logan a clock for his bedroom. With my eyes still partly shut, I squirmed towards the edge of the bed and fished around in the pile of my clothes that lay strewn about. Not exactly sure why they seem damp, nor do I really think I want to, but whatever.

I finally find my portable NEOCOM and check the time on it.

14:29 NEST.

“Impressive,” I comment to myself. While I couldn’t be sure of the exact time we got back last night, I knew we came home early since he was leaving early. To manage to sleep so late… Reminded me of my State War Academy days.

I tossed the NEOCOM back onto the pile and slithered back under the bedspreads, still not really wanting to leave the bed we shared. I felt myself slowly drifting from one side of the bed to the other; rubbing my skin up against the sheets, purring contentedly. Strange feeling this is; this overwhelming desire to be with, to feel someone even when they aren’t here. I moved my head to his pillow, my tangled hair flopping over my face as I inhaled deeply. Not sure if I was imagining things, or if it was real, but I was pretty sure I could still smell him.

It made me happy.

Pretty sure I stayed there, grinning like an idiot for another half hour or so before I was forced out of bed by my body again. After I was done and went ahead and showered and did the usual things a girl does in the morning… or mid-afternoon, I walked around the apartment, taking in the scenery.

Logan was not like me. He wasn’t a neat freak, but he was tidy. That’s not to say there wasn’t some room for improvement. There was still the issue with the broken glass over in the corner. Still not sure what the story behind that was; likely none of my business to begin with. I looked around a while for some cleaning supplies before simply getting pissed off at not being able to find any and calling a service to come in and clean the apartment.

I was pretty sure they were annoyed by my constant hovering, but you can’t trust anyone these days, and the last thing I needed was one of these laborers to make off with something of Logan’s.

Once they were finished, I decided that I would scamper back to my place and see if I had any glassware that Logan would like. Halfway back though I realized that of course I wouldn’t. All his decor was Matari in design, whereas my stuff was either Caldari or Gallente made.

“Where the fuck am I going to find Matari dishes here?” I asked out loud in the corridor. Luckily I was alone, as I am pretty sure the majority of the people I tend to pass on a daily basis already assumed I was crazy and that would have likely confirmed it. A light quickly went off in my head as I grabbed my NEOCOM and began to type out a message, while moving towards the common area of the station.

I sighed again while leaning back on the bench underneath a very large tree. A dog on a leash looked at me before growling. I resisted the urge to growl back and simply smiled to its owner who pulled it away from me.

I really didn’t think I was THAT scary looking. 165cm… No jacket on, but you couldn’t see my jacks or my gun from the front… I guess it was more anti-Caldari sentiment. I sighed. Thought border politics ended, well, at the border. Certainly didn’t think their dogs would pick up on it.

My NEOCOM finally beeped. I reached into my pants pocket and pulled it out, and smiled at the ‘new mail’ icon.

Sorry for the delay. We can probably work something out. 
Meet me at Foth’s Deli at 17:30.

I put the NEOCOM back into my pocket and clapped my hands together. “Things are all coming up Usagi today,” I giggled to myself as I hopped off the bench. I acknowledged that I had about an hour and a half to kill though, and I didn’t really want to spend all that time in an Amarrian deli. I headed in that direction none the less, walking through the station’s shopping district, slowing my pace as I approached one of the shops that was decorated in red and black, with pictures of many scantily clad women in the windows.

I eyed a few of the pictures for a moment, a sly smirk crossing my face. “He might like that.” I mumbled, turning and walking into the lingerie shop.

I wander out about twenty minutes later, bag in hand. I wasn’t expecting to have bought as much as I did, but they had certain items that I am assuming for some sake of modesty, they decided not to put on display in the front window. I cut through a promenade before slowing to a stop again. Out of the corner of my eye another display caught my eye. I slowly turned and noticed a rather trashy looking Gallente female model on display, wearing an equally trashy looking dress. I thought back to the conversation in The Last Gate when Morgane told me she was going to take me dancing and I realized that if I was going to go anywhere… nice… I couldn’t look like my usual, tomboyish, self.

Plus, maybe Logan would like it?

I looked around, apparently checking to make sure no one I knew would see me, and scurried over and into the store. Again, twenty or so minutes later I walked out, another two bags in hand. I was beginning to wish I had brought someone with me, as I still had a clock and glassware to purchase.

Speaking of a clock, I looked around. No clock stores. Though there likely weren’t any stores that sold only clocks. There was a shop that made digital photo frames though, which caused me to giggle.

“A clock with my boobs in it,” I laughed as I walked towards the store.

“He’d like that.”

I came out a couple of minutes later with a picture frame, clock combo. I decided that I would let Logan decide what he wanted to put in the frame. I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want it to be my boobs, but men are all different.

I all but skipped the rest of the way to the deli, humming to myself as I zig-zagged through the late-afternoon, early evening crowd. When I arrived, I looked around, but didn’t see Tara anywhere. I checked my wrist-watch and saw that I was still about fifteen minutes early.

“What can I get you?” A tall, Amarrian waiter asked me in a deep, grizzled voice. I quickly glanced at him, glanced at the menu, then turned back to him.

“Black tea,” I requested, not bothering to ask if the place served alcohol. He nodded and walked off as I set my bags down under the table. I glanced over the menu a few more times before decided on what I was going to order. My eyes then began to wander around the restaurant, checking out the people here. All the clientele appeared to be Amarrian or Khandid. A few Ammatar, perhaps. I glanced towards the cleaning staff.


The Syndicate was tolerant, but slavery was not allowed. Technically he was being paid. I am sure it wasn’t much. And I am sure he wasn’t free to quit. Him or any of those likely working in the back.

I sighed. Logan would be ashamed of me if he knew I was here.

The Amarrian returned with my tea. “What would you like to eat?”

“Just the tea, thank you,” I replied, my appetite suddenly gone. “I am waiting for someone.”

He nodded quickly and walked off to attend to other customers. I sat at the table, my shoes occasionally hitting the bags below me, as I nursed the tea for a few minutes as I waited for Tara to arrive. Finally, he did.

“Usagi, I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” he smiled, extending his hand.

I shook it, as well as my head. “It’s fine, I was early.”

“Have you eaten?” He asked. “The food here is great!” He picked up a menu. I slowly took it from his hand, and set it back on the table.

“If you’re hungry, I’ll take you somewhere else.”

Tara followed my eyes to the Brutor who was busing a table left filthy by a group of Khandid business-folk that just left. He turned back to me.

“Slavery is illegal here, you know.”

I just looked at him.

Tara nodded in understanding. “Well, I have no interest in alienating one of my favorite and most beautiful associates,” he grinned. The Amarrian waiting meandered back over. Tara simply ordered what I had, then set a large box on the table. He opened it, exposing four, amazingly beautiful, brownish-orange, glasses. Each with a unique design on them.

“These glasses are straight from Matar. They were hand crafted for a general during the Rebellion, and have been passed down from generation to generation through that General’s family,” he explained.

I eyed the obviously recently made glasses, picking one up and inspecting it, before looking at Tara sceptically.

“I, uh, don’t have the certificate of authenticity with me, but I can have it sent over.”

I continued to eye him.

“For, uh, something this valuable, I think we’re going to be looking at ISK for a payment,” he chuckled, looking at his own datapad. “Twenty million seems reasonable.”

“Are you fucking high?” I laughed.

Tara smirked. “Ten?”

I rolled my eyes. “I tell you what,” I said, putting the glass I was looking at, back in the box. “I will give you five-hundred thousand for your troubles and I won’t cancel all our other deals for you trying to bullshit me on a bunch of cheap Gallente made party-wares.”

“It’s authentic!” He protested.

“It says ‘Made in Cat’ right on the bottom of the glass,” I snarled. Tara blinked. “Yes,” I explained. “I am fluent in Gallentian.”

Tara nodded. “Five-hundred thousand it is then!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I transferred him the money. I was paying more for kitchenware than I did for some frigates. Amazing.

“What the hell is that crap?” A voice behind me asked. Tara looked up to him. I turned slowly to see a lanky Amarrian standing over me.

“We’re having a conversation,” Tara explained. “Move along, please.”

“I know you,” he snarled, looking at me. “I saw you hanging around with that slave.”

“Oh boy,” Tara grit his teeth, as I slid out of my chair. The Amarrian towered above me, but I stared at him, not pleased at him or his tone.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“You’re that egger who hangs out with that slave,” he repeated.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I keep an eye on things around here to make sure they are moral,” he replied.

I scoffed and turned away. “You ready?” I asked Tara. Tara nodded to me and began to gather his things. I started to go for my bags when the Amarrian began to speak again.

“I wonder what kind of mongloid an egger Caldari and an egger slave would make?”

I snapped.

I grabbed both the knife set on the table for myself and for Tara and the fork set there and spun around, first delivering my first directly to his nose. He was so pleased with his insult, he was too busy gloating to see it coming; allowing me to score a direct hit. Blood gushed from his formerly smug face. My entire body launched on top of him, knocking him onto a nearby table, causing food and dishes to go in every direction, and causing the people sitting there to scurry away to avoid becoming collateral damage.

Once I had him on the table, I jammed one knife into his jacket sleeve, pinning his left arm to the table. I repeated the process with the fork and his right arm. With my right hand I took the knife and held it to his neck while pulling out my side arm and looking towards his friends.

“Stay. Out. Of. This.”

They wisely backed up.

I turned back to the Amarrian and narrowed my gaze. The knife I had crossed his throat, breaking the skin ever so slightly. “Listen to me and listen to me carefully,” I spoke quietly and deliberately. “No one, including your so called ‘god’ gives you the right to speak that way about Logan, do you understand me?”

“What you are doing is immoral!” he spat. “He’s inferior!”

I moved the gun to his face.


I grumbled, climbed off the Amarrian, pulled out the knife and fork, grabbed him by the neck and started to drag him towards the exit. “Tara, can you please grab my stuff?”

“Sure…” he called out after me.

I drug the Amarrian to a semi-secluded area where he and I could be somewhat alone. I was getting slightly annoyed as the bastard was bleeding all over my hand and it was making it harder to keep a good grip on him. I guess I cut him worse than I thought I did.

“If you kill me, it won’t make a difference…” he gasped.

“No,” I acknowledged, shoving him on to some boxes. “But it will make me feel better.”

I put three rounds into his head. Shot him once in his dick as well because, well, why not. I probably should have done that first for maximum effect, but I guess when you’re pissed off, you really aren’t thinking straight. I walked back to where Tara was waiting and smiled at him as I took my merchandise from him.

“I’ll go ahead and drop that other 19.5 million into your account if you clean this up for me. I don’t like having to deal with the police.”

Tara laughed. “Payment in advance please.”

“Half now, half if I’m not in jail tomorrow.”

Tara nodded, I transferred the ISK, and headed back towards my apartment, waving to a police vehicle that went screaming past.

Bookmark the permalink.