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| Vergo Flux (SC RP); It's a working title | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 1 2011, 02:28 PM (8,272 Views) | |
| +CEMP+ | Apr 5 2016, 01:47 PM Post #181 |
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Clockwork Master
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(OOC: BOOM, POST :)) Lenna didn't fully understand why the merest sliver of a memory about the woman who had raised her hurt so much inside. She could only guess that it was something of a personal, intimate relationship, like most classic mother-daughter bonds. Yet what puzzled and disturbed her the most how there was a sudden spur of guilt, and not just longing. Guilt brought about by an ambiguous revelation, as though she had betrayed some hidden promise without realizing it until now. What that promise had been, however, completely eluded her. Despite these suddenly coiling emotions, the steely, 'Ghost' mentality still held steadfast within her, not allowing such illogical impulse overcome her. To some degree, she still held the analytical mask, albiet betrayed only by her tear streak. Yet none of this did anything to numb her against the strange discomfort in the eating the cinnamon bun. The food should have tasted sweet all the way, and the semi-crunchy texture become softer as she chewed. Instead, the taste gradually became bitter, and chewing it felt like chewing gravel. Gravel that she could easily crush like her jaw was a neo steel vice, but no less feel the rough texture in her mouth. And have it swallowed down like it her heavy, wet cement. It was only when the woman's thought seem to...clear partially that Lenna's expression actually phased with an arched eyebrow. In fact, she had not expected the genuinely friendly gesture, or the napkin for that matter. She hesitated with a quick glance at it before silently wiping away the tear with it, but otherwise not acknowladging where it had come from. The Ghost in her saw it as an exposed weakness, an embarrassment that became obvious in the way her hands now fidgeted on the table. It was becoming increasingly clear to Lenna that this whole conversation was beginning to make her uncomfortable. And in being given the answer to her previous question, she felt did not gain any tactical knowledge. Instead, what she gained was...an unsettling fascimily of herself. A reflection she did not want to see, let alone contemplate – a fact that became subtly obvious as her hands clenched at the mention of the word 'assassination.' At the woman's last few words, Lenna's face became sour. “No,” she replied, partially in denial, partially in truth, “no, I don't know what you mean.” Before she had the chance to add anything else, a small outburst occurred between...two people she recognized that had also come aboard the Hyperion. One she definitely recognized being the criminal woman she had confronted before. The other, however, was completely new to her, and as a result, she ended up refocusing her mind in that abrupt moment. Her face become more firm as she closed her eyes briefly, as if listening. And she was. Before now, she had simply tuned out most of the backgrounds noise of thoughts everyone's else minds generate – like they had been taught in the academy. But now she opened her mind to teep on the thoughts of these two people. Of course, she didn't need to be a teep to hear what was actually being thought, given that the two obviously had a quarrel and disagreement. But it was after the woman left that she picked out something odd. The bar itself wasn't jammed packed, after all, and it was easy enough to pick the man's very unique of thought. Which was to say, she thought she heard him, well, she wasn't sure it was the correct term, but 'praying' seemed to be the correct term. In the Dominion's day and age, religion was almost pretty much none-existant, with only the history tablet's to reflect these. Or backwater planets that existed far out on the rim. This mentality...strangely had her piqued. The 'why' was beyond her, only that the psychology here was...unique for this Terran mind. And although it wasn't exact tactically useful, it was still..intel in a sense. Psychological intel. Filing the oddity in the back of her mind for later, just as she was turning back to the woman before her, her gaze crossed Ghelm at the other table. By himself. Glaring at her. Lenna just looked at him with a annoyed face that silently went 'What?' In response, he simply tapped his his forehead before turning back to his food. Lenna stared at him dumbfounded before, in stunned realization, she turned back to the woman before with a disgruntled face. How...Had he – known she teeped that man's mind? she thought, if only briefly. Sighing, she said, “That man,” she said, to Travis, “do you know who he is?” After another moment, she added, “Come to think of it, I don't even know your name.” She began eating the rest of her cinnamon bun, which still tasted bitter and heavy. But she ate it all – and not entirely because it was just for nourishment. ---------------- “Hrrrmm,” came the digital voice of Derad to Thea, as he analyzed the data she had sent to him about Alissa's nanos. The job of identifying the anomoly that Thea had picked up had been passed to him when Constantine didn't have the best scientific know-how to analyze it. That, and Derad was simply more specialized for this. After of process that was simply in a second of real-time, Derad said, “Well, given my understanding of their functionality you've outlined to me, I would say the new nanos machines aren't a threat. In fact, assuming they still follow their behavioral routines, I'd say they're an improvement above the original ones.” “By my understanding, these very 'cells' effectively survived the surge that destroyed everything else. A kind of 'survival of the fittest' shall we say. Come to think of it, I am curious if these machines were ever set with a kind mutation algorithm, if you understand what I mean?” |
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"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death." — Monty Oum | |
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| ~Alissa~ | Apr 14 2016, 03:19 PM Post #182 |
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Alissa smirked a bit at Lenna, unsure if the woman was deflecting or not. Alissa was still pretty sure of her read on the woman especially after her mention of assassination, but there was not a lot she could do to confirm anything at the moment. If this person was keeping a secret she had her own reasons, and so long as it didn’t endanger her friends Alissa was happy to let her keep it. She glanced over her shoulder at Travis a moment before looking back to Lenna. “That is Travis Clark….we arrived together” she said before extending her hand toward Lenna “My name is Alissa Achillies” She sat waiting for the woman to take the offered hand. -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ Thea quietly considered Derad’s explanation “They are still doing what they were meant to do” she said at last, virtual eyes still fixed on the schematics in front of her. “as for mutation…no. everything in their design was meant to prevent a copy error like that in the first place. It was only the lack of a working nanite for the factories to compare with that these….new machines were able to become dominant in her system” Thea paused a moment before waving away the image and considering the guest AI again for a moment “I will continue to monitor her systems but I see no threat. Protocol is to force a reset but that is unpleasant for Alissa, and seems unnecessary. Thank you for your assistance.” She paused after a time “perhaps I should expand my medical database…” |
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| +CEMP+ | May 23 2016, 10:03 PM Post #183 |
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Clockwork Master
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Lenna tentively took Alissa's hand with a disgruntled look, as if the simplest contact could leave her violated. It didn't, really, but there was once again the curious notion that Lenna was not entirely comfortable in shaking hands - if simply because it was like shaking hands with a mirror. That wasn't flat. Still, she was not without some hospitality, replying in kind to Alissa. "Lenna...Lenna Kensa." The words came out as if she hadn't spoken them in ages. As if...she hadn't openly introduced herself in ages. Once again these vauge, disconnected sensation of...who she had been before were unsettling to say the least. Yet as she let go of Alissa's hand - something that felt more human than it should have - her mind began to mull over the woman's last name. And this time, something did click into place. Not some nearly sporadic recall, but a distinct, ringing bell. "Achillies," she openly noted, "strange, but if my mythology is still accurate, that's the name of hero from Greek Mythology. Human mythology to be accurate - assuming you have any idea what I mean. Either way, it is an odd coincidence that you both share the same name despite apparently coming from another reality." ------------ "I would be happy to upload any medical information that I have which you don't," Derad offered, "In fact, I do have a few extra questions in regards to those nanos. It's based off some of the data I was given in regards to the Zerg we encountered - mainly, how adaptable they were. Now this is all just mere conjecture, but given their kind of programming, I've always wondered why the Olympus tech didn't create didn't create an evolution program for these machines. A kind of survival of the fittest, but on nanoscale, if you know what I mean." |
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"I believe that the human spirit is indomitable. If you endeavor to achieve, it will happen given enough resolve. It may not be immediate, and often your greater dreams is something you will not achieve within your own lifetime. The effort you put forth to anything transcends yourself, for there is no futility even in death." — Monty Oum | |
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| ~Deadly Aim~ | May 30 2016, 05:24 PM Post #184 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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(OOC: lemme know if this is okay, Jefe; took a bit of liberty) "Heh, 'Captain America', eh? That's a new one... Come aboard, Grace; I'm not sure how Travis going to feel about my doing this, but... I believe there is something that you should see, and I imagine you'd rather have this discussion in private. Indeed, I imagine you would rather not appear to be talking to a spaceship." To what Constantine imagined was either her surprise or her incredulous feelings, the ramp of the Arctic Storm was opened and the security systems were partially disabled to allow her safe passage into the cockpit cabin. Inside, the gunship was as always in a state of careful repair and cleanliness; Travis was known to be particularly meticulous with his own possessions, though hardlight fields had been deployed over things such as the cockpit controls and dash, the interfacing holopanels along the star-board side of the gunship, and a random assortment of other things that Constantine wasn't sure that Grace could identify, but he wasn't about to take any chances. "Beverages or refreshments? Help yourself to the kitchen in the back," The Gi offered, appearing from a projector nearby; he had chosen to materialise at full human height, so as to have a more personable conversation with Grace. "I know that there isn't exactly... 'friendly' history between you and I, but you'll be surprised to hear that I personally believe that perhaps neither of you are being entirely fair to one another. And before you ask, yes, I heard everything; Travis is carrying his wrist device; essentially, I go where he goes. "Feel free to borrow a chair once you're settled in and comfortable; you may find that we'll be talking for awhile," Constantine gestured back towards the dash, to the huge black pivoting chair in which Travis usually sat. "It's comfortable, and if you want I can adjust it for you. So... you want to know why Travis is so rigid? Fire away; what do you want to know?" ========= That feeling... there it is again. The one that makes some of my hairs stand on end. Travis had been busily wiping the contents of Grace's drink off of his person when he felt a strange... "prickling". It wasn't anywhere on his person, per se; he didn't itch, he had bathed that morning. No... this prickling felt.... almost otherworldly, surreal. It was like that strange guy who had been staring at him earlier. It felt like he was being watched like a bug in a jar, and it felt downright intrusive. Travis exhaled uneasily and went to go back to eat whatever was left of his food that hadn't been inundated in alcohol. Despite the dust-up, he had been remarkably quiet in not saying anything, even with just about everyone and their brother listening aboard. Perhaps they were intimidated; they didn't know Travis, and although he wasn't a wall of flesh he was relatively imposing; Was it the way he carried himself and the way his gaze swept through a room? The well-defined frame that could be seen along his body that marked him as a fit young man? The thud of his well-polished Federation military boots? He looked around and noticed Alissa talking to a woman he presumed to be part of the crew, along with Kachinsky just trying to mind his business with other members of the crew. For right now, all he wanted to do was eat in peace and get back to work. Grace had stormed off in a huff, and it was clear she wasn't going to hear anything he said because she had apparently convinced herself that Travis saw nothing good in her and thus he wasn't worth her time. And as much as he felt for her and prayed she'd understand, Travis knew that he was probably not the best person to 'play therapist' in the matter between the two of them. Travis sat and put another bit of food in his mouth; he wasn't about to talk about her outburst, but neither was he about to give these people any more reason to be afraid of him; that was the last thing he needed. Edited by Deadly Aim, May 30 2016, 05:25 PM.
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| ~The Boss~ | May 30 2016, 06:19 PM Post #185 |
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Native Son
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If Constantine was trying to put Grace at ease, he failed miserably. It wasn't his fault, though. He had no way of knowing just how uncomfortable AI - any AI - made her. They were, in fact, one of the things she feared most. And the hologram certainly didn't help matters. She tried to be as polite as possible though, hiding her discomfort as best she could. Grace took a look at the chair, but instead sat on the floor, up against the wall. For a long time, she said nothing, just sat there, staring straight ahead. Part of it was her trying to gather herself in the presence of a sentient computer program, but part of it was also the fact that she was still shaken by her conversation with Travis. And she wasn't sure she completely understood why. "It's like he doesn't even see me," she finally said. "Doesn't hear me, doesn't acknowledge me, nothing. I look at him... and it's like there's nothing there. No human connection to be had whatsoever." She caught herself. Was she talking about Travis or was she talking about Jimmy? "I just talked to him about stuff I don't talk to anyone about. Not my boyfriend, not my stepdad, nobody. I mean, here I am, opening up to him, baring my soul like I never have before... and all he wants to do is tell me how horrible I am. As if I didn't know. I don't need him to tell me that." The whole time she talked, she stared either at the floor or straight ahead. She couldn't make eye contact with Constantine, not just yet. Maybe eventually, but she'd have to work her way up to it. But it was in the process of not making eye contact that she happened to notice a paused video on one of the screens. A very old video, one she actually knew quite well. "Omigod, I love Audrey Hepburn," she said. "Would you... would you mind starting it over?" |
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| ~Deadly Aim~ | May 30 2016, 06:54 PM Post #186 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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I would leave it open on the screen... but, I suppose my forgetfulness here isn't such a bad thing. "I can certainly do that for you," Constantine offered Grace a smile, doing as best he could not to make her feel any further discomfort; the expression of her face at the atmosphere on board the ship were enough for him to determine such, let alone the timpani rhythm of Grace's heartbeat that he could measure through the sensors. "As a matter of fact, why don't you settle in and I'll get it going for you. Would you care for popcorn?" This was a chance, Constantine realized; a chance for him to see beyond "Grace the deviant" or "Grace the murderer"; a chance to put a human face on the woman many thought to be nothing more than a lawless monster. There's too much rough history between Grace and Travis for them to understand each other on a personal basis by themselves; they've done much to harm one another and try as he might, Travis is a man who has a strong sense of justice, and because of that he's having difficult time letting go of what he's holding her responsible for on Nuyaii Prime. But I can reach Grace in a way that he cannot; short of the few... unpleasant moments between her and I, I have no such history. Hehe... Ivan, you old fox, you may yet succeed where the boy has failed. That was it, Constantine decided: this was a chance to understand Grace better, and he'd take it, Travis' approval or lack thereof be damned. As it was, he figured that it woulds be best for the two to remain separate; Travis likely needed some time to think on his actions, and Grace was emotionally upset and needed insight. Without these, it would be impossible for the two to at least have some form of mutual understanding that didn't involve sharp words, objects or guns. Constantine rewound the film and darkened the cockpit, and the movie began. Edited by Deadly Aim, May 30 2016, 06:55 PM.
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| ~The Boss~ | Jun 2 2016, 09:11 PM Post #187 |
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Native Son
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((I'm not sure about this, kinda feel like I'm repeating myself, but I hope this works)) "No thank you," Grace said softly, politely refusing the popcorn. She sat there watching the film with a wistful smile on her face. There were those whom Grace considered to be goddesses. Billie was one. Nina was another. And so was Audrey. This film was one of her favorites. She knew every line by heart. Still, even Audrey Hepburn couldn't keep Grace quiet for long. At some point, her lips were bound to start moving again. She talked a lot about Meghan, Henry's biological daughter and her chief nemesis before Travis Clark became Deadeye, as well as, according to Grace, a dumb bitch and a stupid whore. The two girls hated each other with a passion, fighting bitterly about nearly everything, stealing guys from each other, and just generally being a pain in each others asses. To Constantine, it sure must've sounded like Grace hated her stepsister almost as much as she hated Travis. And yet, there were those moments when they actually got along great. In particular when they used to watch Pretty Woman, essentially the same film, which was why she had thought of her in the first place. They'd snuggle up under a blanket with a big bowl of popcorn or maybe some ice cream, and Meghan would cry at the end every time. Grace despised Meghan. And yet somehow, she also loved her dearly. That much was obvious. The same almost seemed to be true when it came to Travis. She wanted very badly to understand him, but just couldn't. And it wasn't just that he didn't understand her, either. She was convinced that he didn't want to understand her. "He doesn't have to approve," she said, as the horse race scene was getting underway. "He doesn't have to forgive me. He just... maybe he should try and put himself in my shoes. Think about what it would be like to be scared of the good guys before he was old enough to understand why. I mean, really, truly scared. Doesn't mean he agrees with me, just... empathy, you know? Does he even have any?" Edited by The Boss, Jun 2 2016, 09:50 PM.
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| ~Deadly Aim~ | Jun 3 2016, 03:11 AM Post #188 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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"No thank you." That may be the nicest thing I have ever heard her say. So that's what this was about. She wanted Travis to empathize. Perhaps, Constantine pondered, he could help begin to nudge Grace in the right direction... and perhaps Travis as well. "I would say he does have empathy, more than you might think... but, I would say that he's been awfully boorish about this, if I may say so." Constantine stroked a wrinkled hand through his beard, as if in thought. It may have seemed strange to Grace, but for him it felt completely natural. "For example, you are right... he is certainly unfairly holding the deaths of his comrades over you, and I know that for a fact because I have a copy of his mission records... and before you ask, I'll spare you the gory details. Perhaps... maybe I can shed some perspective on as to why Travis seems to feel the need to hold that over your head, but I believe I should address subjects other than empathy first." Constantine brought up a series of small holopanes so as not to disrupt the movie; in them were various photos taken aboard Cocytus during a furlough, a green planet somewhere with both men suited up in BDUs, a casual bar restaurant where the two were sitting and eating, a tattoo parlor (and the photo featuring a younger Travis' conspicuously bare chest along with a newly-etched tattoo upon the sternum, the ink so fresh that hints of blood could be seen on his flesh). Normally, these would be relatively unremarkable... save for the one commonality that Constantine wasn't sure Grace may recognize. Each photo contained Warren Stewarts and Travis Clark. "Grace... Travis and Warren Stewarts were close; indeed, they were like brothers, more like family than just comrades in arms." Constantine continued as he gesticulated for emphasis. "I believe that the reason that Travis is finding it so difficult to forgive you is that... well... they were out looking for you at the time. Now of course, I am in no way blaming you; you are not responsible for what happened to Stewarts. Indeed, nobody could have known that terrible beast was lying in wait with her brood, and indeed I believe you were very fortunate not to be attacked yourself. But I believe that Travis is struggling to find it in himself to forgive you for that reason. "As for why Travis seems to keep most at arms' length... I believe that it has less to do with your criminal history than you might believe, though I confess he certainly hasn't given you any reason to believe that to be true. While I believe the history between you two explains some of his hesitancy to be open with others, the truth lies in two particular tragedies. And he'll probably be furious to know I'm showing you this, but he'll just have to put up with it, you've a right to inquire. First," Constantine pulled up an image of a black-haired woman in a blue bodysuit. "This is Jessie Falcon... and I am certain you know of the whole mess concerning that terrible incident and her involvement. Ever since, Travis isn't sure Miss Falcon has survived her extensive hospital stay, and has resolved to assure there will not be a third corruption. He... misses her terribly, and blames himself for not saving her sooner." "Second," This time, Constantine displayed a photograph of a woman with brown hair. "This young lady... is Trishadarian Winters. She happens to be Travis' half sister due to an involuntary genetic donation by his father. Her fate has been particularly dark, and more recent... and of note, he didn't take it well; you may have noticed that he's been particularly more stalwart in recent times. Indeed, with her passing... he's alone, the last of his family. He has no one, Grace." "Now, as for empathizing... I agree, there is a ring of wisdom to what you say." Constantine nodded. "He has never experienced what it is like to fear the law from your perspective or feel the need to be afraid of it as you described. And unfortunately, not everyone within the Galactic Federation is exactly honest and straightforward... I suppose it is difficult for him to do, considering I know him to usually err to the side of the law. I don't believe that he is trying to shut you out on purpose, however, at least on this front; he just simply does not understand your perspective because he's never had to experience it. Although it doesn't help that his head is thicker than a giant sequoia tree." |
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| ~The Boss~ | Jun 3 2016, 08:33 PM Post #189 |
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Native Son
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No family. No one. Grace often said that she had no family. Sometimes, she even believed it herself. And yet, she knew that wasn't true, not in the slightest. Her mother, the only blood relation she'd ever known, was long gone, but that didn't mean she had no family. The Callahans. Henry, Isabella, Henry Jr., and Meghan. A mom, a dad, a brother, a sister. She had Meghan's kids, Colin and Maggie. A niece and nephew, whom she absolutely adored, and they loved their Aunt Gracie. Saying she had no family was a lie. She had plenty of family. She had a man whom she loved, even though much of the time it sure seemed like he didn't love her back. No, if Jimmy loved anyone, it was himself. But then why keep her around for so many years, if their relationship was purely physical? Because it's also professional, she thought, even though that didn't ring quite true either. She had Jimmy's mother Linda, the polar opposite of the evil, meddling mother-in-law. His brother Rex, who was a colossal screwup and sometimes made Ronnie look like a genius, but was such a sweetheart. So really, she had two families. Maybe the computer was right. Maybe. She looked at the picture of Jessie Falcon up there on one of the screens. She had a picture of her, too. Grace had been in the grandstands when she took the checkered flag at Daytona, and afterwards she'd gotten to meet the racing legend/bounty hunter. She got her autograph and took a selfie with her. And even though Grace had already tangled with Travis a couple of times by then, she was 95% sure that, at least in that moment, Jessie Falcon had no idea who she was. Just another fan. As for her fate? Well, she hadn't heard too much about it, having been in prison for the past year and change, and she hadn't been following the news too closely. All she knew was it was bad. The other girl, Winters... she knew a little about that, too. A little. Back when she was still on the Salty Dog, in one of the most bizarre incidents she'd ever been a part of. For a while there, it seemed as if Grace had been losing everyone, too. First her mother. Her father had never been anything more than a question mark. Jasmine, a young prostitute who'd been the first friend she'd made out on the streets, disappeared after just a couple of months, her body washing up on the beach near Montauk a week later. That happened with frightening regularity out there. If they ever found the body. There was Jojo, the only member of Nick's crew who wasn't constantly trying to get into her pants, Nick included. The list went on. She knew a lot of dead people, too. But she still had the Callahans. She still had Jimmy. And Nick, and Ronnie. She had people who cared about her, who loved her. And Jimmy. Travis, not so much, apparently. "Maybe I can comfort him a bit," she said mischievously, though jokingly. "Not that he'd ever approve..." She snickered, knowing that was not likely to ever happen. "I try to be good, at least in the context of the world in which I live. I know you might not believe it, and I know he definitely doesn't believe it, but when it comes to criminals, I'm one of the good guys. Henry always told me, just because you're a crook doesn't mean you can't do the right thing. Doesn't always work out that way, but I try. I really do. And I'm trying now." Letting out a heavy sigh, she went back to watching the end of the movie, waiting for the man himself to return... Edited by The Boss, Aug 31 2016, 05:05 PM.
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| ~Deadly Aim~ | Jun 5 2016, 04:20 PM Post #190 |
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Deadeye '17, eager to move on from the slow-motion train wreck that was last year.
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"Eliza... where the devil are my slippers?" "Believe it or not... I'm glad to hear that you're trying to change; it's hard, but it's completely worth it," Constantine offered with a genuine smile as the movie ended, folding his arms into his robed sleeves. "Changing our very nature is the most difficult thing of all for us as individuals; we are challenging the very ideas that we thought fundamental and rejecting them to put something else in their stead. For you, as with all of us, that cannot be easy." "And regrettably, yes... I believe you are right." Constantine formed a frown through his beard, stroking his chin. "Travis, for the time being, has convinced himself of the idea that you aren't trying to change... but I see, Grace, that this simply isn't true. I don't know if you two will ever fully agree on everything... that's up to you two; but I do know this. Travis is a persistent and just man; I think that, faced with the facts and the time to consider them... he'll be the one apologizing to you." "Maybe so, Constantine... and Grace, I think... I think I've misjudged you, big time. I think the old man is right: I wasn't giving you a fair shake." GAH! When did he...? Constantine practically leapt off his feet, his hologram almost clipping into the ceiling of the cockpit cabin. "Ah, um... Travis! Good afternoon, I... I... I um..." "It's okay, Constantine; your bacon isn't going to get roasted for letting her in behind my back... she needed the privacy and the space." Travis appeared on a holoscreen, his eyes immediately meeting those of Grace; thankfully, to Constantine's relief, he didn't seem angry at all, although he suspected that Travis would be asking him to refrain from letting convicted felons on board of his vessel behind his back again. "Grace, I took care of what Swann had left for us to do with Kachinsky, and I was... I was watching my combat records while listening to you two as you were chatting in there and enjoying the film. And... I realize that all this time, I've not been fair or right to you. Can we talk, or do you still want me to give you some space?" Edited by Deadly Aim, Jun 5 2016, 04:24 PM.
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2:55 PM Jul 11