strangetrip | [EP] a rage against this toneless, flat, normal and sterile life*

Yasmeen "refused to be bored, because she wasn't boring."**

She'd read that in a book in Gotham. But then, Gotham had a library, bookstores, and her Lady. Not being bored was a lot easier. So, when the city opened, Yasmeen all but bolted through the portal into the wet jungle heat in search of anything interesting to do.

It didn't take long for her to discover there were no airships, no weapons modern even by her standards, and very little for non-natives to do. But there was always work in a port city, even in a river port, and she knew how to find it.

On day two, she met Ek Sothea, a young woman with a gift for spotting an opportunity. By day three, she'd agreed to front her the gold for a salvage operation in the river. It barely touched the reserves of what Yasmeen had with her when she arrived from Gotham, but it was enough to finance the operation and get Yasmeen a tip on a bar by the docks where Ek Sothea had gotten the initial information and the name of the man who'd supplied it. Soksan.

The third night, she staked out the bar and by the fourth, she'd met Sar Peou and his contact Hu Chariya who needed an ancient and valuable map retrieved from the business partners who'd kept it after a deal went bad. Early on the morning of the fifth day, she'd slipped into the third floor above the Phann Raksmei bank, picked the locks on the safe chest, and obtained the map. On the evening of the fifth day, she met Sar Peou at Soksan, slipped into his back corner booth and delivered the map in exchange for a healthy payment that covered her investment in Ek Sothea's salvage operation.

Business transacted, she bought herself an ale to nurse while scoping out her next job.

~*~*~*~
* Herman Hesse, Steppenwolf
** Zelda Fitzgerald

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A woman with the kind of confidence and swagger this one projected inevitably would draw Yasmeen's attention, since they were still rare in the world from which she'd come, and she'd learned to see in it the prospect of a kindred spirit. Yet this one arrived, did a deal, and went immediately to chat with Captain Cold. Even if she hadn't been in this particular bar when Yasmeen had received a commission for which she needed a crew, she would have been intrigued.

After waiting until the woman went to the bar for a fresh drink, Yasmeen approached and leaned against the bar beside her. "Friend of Cold's or just appreciating the scenery?"

"I don't know that he actually has friends," River glanced at the other woman, but for all that it was brief it was assessing. "Though the scenery isn't half bad."

Yasmeen chuckled at that assessment, and as young Max might have, replied, "Accurate. On both counts." And even less bad when naked; certainly not marred by the scars that told her he was more than what he claimed. "I've seen you around the Inn. Did you meet him there or before?"

She didn't need to see the scars to know Len was more than met the eye, but she probably wouldn't say no to a chance to see them.

"There's not much to do at the Inn, and we both like cards."

"Not much to do at the Inn and I don't bet for anything I don't want to lose," Yasmeen replied, the small curl of a sharpish smirk suggested they had bet, she'd lost and she'd been satisfied with the outcome.

"I don't have much I would mind losing." Very little actually, her diary and the sonic screwdriver.

"But I rarely lose unless I want to."

Little to lose, but very rarely lost sounded like someone with no place to store things. "A wandering, adventuring sort then?"

Because if Cold tolerated her rather than took her for ride (of the non-sexual sort), she'd be useful at something.

"Something like that," She gave the other woman another look, longer this time.

"Why? You looking for an adventure?"

"Adventure generally finds me," she replied and gestured back to the table where she'd been sitting. "Care to join me?" The question seemed as much an answer as anything, a suggestion that what she had to share wasn't for every ear.

"I think I might," she put coin on the bar to pay for her drink and turned toward the table. "Lay on, Macduff."

"Captain Corsair," she said by way of introduction. MacDuff meant nothing to her, so she assumed it was a substitute for her name. "And you?"

Would that there was a volume of Shakespeare at the Inn.

"Song, River Song."

Ah. The other would be a literary reference, too, then.

She draped an arm over the back of her chair and said, "So, you have an interest in being found by an adventure?"

"I don't usually get a choice." River selected a chair next to the Captain and settled in. "But if you're giving me one, then yes, depending on the adventure."

"I don't press-gang my crew. If they're executed for mutiny, they knew exactly what they were signing on for." Despite the mild tone, there was no smile to indicate humor--she was entirely serious.

"And if I sign on, what am I signing on for?" She wasn't really very good at being part of a crew.

"I've been asked to find a missing explorer with little more than a map of where he was going when he left. There may be dinosaurs involved, so I'd prefer not to go alone." She didn't know enough about this woman to sign her onto her crew, but instinct told her she'd be a useful companion.

"You had me at dinosaurs." Oh, she was in. She was still a bit bitter that the Doctor had taken Amy and Rory and her grandfather on a trip with dinosaurs on a spaceship - and with Cleopatra to boot. She was the bloody archeologist.

Yasmeen chuckled at that. "Seems I was right about you." She tilted her head and studied her a moment. "I trust you can handle yourself in a fight?"

"I make do in a pinch," though she honestly preferred not to fight. Thank the Doctor for that. "I have my own gun and everything."

Something in how she said it pricked Yasmeen's ears. Subtlety be damned, she asked pointedly, "Do you have problems with killing?" No qualifications, no sense of a correct answer, just a flat question.

"Like having a problem with drink? I would but I have this nasty murderous rage hangover this morning darling and I just can't." She laid a hand melodramatically across her brow, though she knew this wasn't what the other woman meant.

"Or do I have some moral object to the act itself? None that I've noticed. Though I do try rather hard not to murder indiscriminately. My mum and dad would not approve."

Yasmeen guffawed and slapped both palms to the table. "Yes, you'll do just fine."

[EP] a rage against this toneless, flat, normal and sterile life* - backdated

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