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                                                      It was a relatively dull day so far. And thankfully it seemed to be the norm for Sundays in the eighteen hundreds. It also meant that Caleb had time to go over books that if they were ever found would lead to more trouble than they were worth. But as he kept them in a secret compartment in one of his trunks under double lock and key there was little chance of them getting lost. Or stolen. The weather had kept him in his office, poring over the before mentioned books. He knew that somewhere in one of them there was information that he could use for how to extract plant essences. And with any luck he’d be able to do that with the means currently available to him.

                                                      As it was he had already spent two Sundays going over the one book, re-reading it in its entirety. There might be other things in it that could be of use to him in this time period. That and one of the books he had already re-read had been on late nineteenth century and early twentieth century medical techniques. Which was why he was incredibly glad that he had been born in a time where there was no such thing as female hysteria. But the people of this time clearly were still such vanilla sex people that he couldn’t even stand the thought of having to work with what some people came to see him with. If some of these husbands had enough sense in their heads to actually please their wives in the bedroom half the cases of so called female hysteria wouldn’t exist. Hell until one man had brought his wife in and they complained about it he had never even heard of female hysteria before. Which at the time made him seemed rather inexperienced as a doctor.

                                                      He had since had five more cases of female hysteria turn up at his practice and each time he had referred them to another doctor who did specialize in that. And he used the term doctor very loosely. Many of the doctors in this time period were complete hacks. They sold potions and tinctures like they were cure alls, but many had toxins and poisons in them. Which is why he was going through his books looking for all natural medicines that were proven in his time to work. But he wasn’t all that good at the actual mechanics behind getting the plant extracts and essences. Or if he was completely honest remembering which plants did what or could help when combined with others. Unless it was to actually poison or kill someone then he knew exactly what plants and chemicals to use. And how to make it. So to say the least this time period was more annoying than if they had landed in the twenty-first century.

                                                      Caleb sighed a hands reaching up and running through his hair. A habit he apparently picked up coming back in time, because he couldn’t remember having done it before becoming a member of the project. And nothing annoyed him more than ill practiced medicine and doctors who had no idea of what they were doing. He sighed and looked around his office. It was relatively small, almost cramped really but it was cost effective because it was located in the house the team was living in. Which meant he didn’t have to go out and rent a room from another place. Which also meant that he was free to look through his books and not have to worry about anyone from the current time period coming in and bothering him. He looked at the notes he scribbled down on a spare bit of parchment he had floating around on his desk. His handwriting was normally surprisingly clear for a doctor; but when he was absent mindedly scribbling down notes it looked as if someone had handed a chicken a pen and allowed it to walk across the paper. Caleb could understand it…barely but only because he knew his handwriting.

                                                      He circled a couple of things that he felt the book had helped him to remember before shutting the book and putting it in the drawer. He would put it back in his trunk later. Right now it was fine in the locked drawer of his desk. On second thought he opened the drawer with the book and placed the piece of parchment in there too before locking it this time. He doubted many people would be able to read what he had written down but he wasn’t going to take that chance either. He looked around his office again and sighed. It was clean, which meant that his Sunday just became even more tedious. He had cleaned the house yesterday, and he normally tidied his room up after seeing a client. Which meant he could go back to his room with the book and gather a new on or he could stay in here and be bored.

                                                      He was saved from having to pick between two equally boring things when he heard Bella’s shout of ‘Lunch is ready everyone!’ Happy to have something to distract him Caleb stood and slowly stretched. He groaned as he felt his muscles complain for having been in one position too long. He smiled though when he felt his spine pop, feeling better for it. He moved towards the door of his office and opened it, as he closed the door behind him he locked it. Not because he didn’t trust his teammates but because he liked keeping the work he was doing now separate and private. That and he was a private man and old habits died very hard for him. He only had to turn the corner and walk through the doorway at the end of the hall to get to the kitchen. He noticed that Aubrey was home, and that she had been wandering around if the water soaked hem of her dress was any indication.

                                                      “So what’s for lunch, as I for once haven’t had to make it.” Caleb asked as he moved into the kitchen to take a seat at the table there. The actual dining room was more of a…well for formal affairs and appearances. Most of them liked eating in the kitchen it was less formal and more their style. At least that seemed to be the reason to him. So far no one seemed to have a giant stick up their a** unless it came to their field of expertise.

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                                                                                          The room was dark except for the light cast by the clock near the bed. It showed in bright red the time. 4:34 am glared it’s light across the room. Giving the room a red hue, like a badly lit horror film. And true to that description the form on the bed was clearly not having a peaceful, restful, gentle sleep. The hands gripping and clawing at the sheets were insightful to that fact. Or maybe it was the whimpered words coming from her mouth, would have given any viewer that idea.

                                                                                          A hand wrapped around her throat, the pressure was immediate but shocking nonetheless. She seized up, stopping her breath mid-way on an exhaled cry. But as the hand continued to squeeze tighter and tighter she couldn’t help the desire to try to breathe. She needed oxygen, but the hand at her throat wasn’t allowing her any more than tiny little wisps of the valuable gas. Soon she knew she’d blackout, there wasn’t enough oxygen in her veins to reach her brain. Her hands grasped and raked at the hand choking her. Desperately trying to get it to stop, expending valuable energy derived from oxygen in the process.
                                                                                          It was a vicious cycle. She needed to breathe so she tried to free herself; but the more she struggled, the more she tried to remove the hand at her throat the more energy she used. And the energy she was using was derived from the oxygen she normally could breathe. But with the lack of it her body was trying to draw energy from other sources that also survived off of the oxygen in her blood stream.
                                                                                          Her attempts to remove the hand were slowing now, her struggling was becoming weaker. Just as her body was becoming weaker with the oxygen deprivation. But the finale wasn’t there yet. She knew there was more to come. Knew because otherwise there would have been two hands at her throat wrapping around it. They’d have to hurry now before she lost consciousness. If she wasn’t awake to see it happening didn’t it make it less enjoyable for whoever was killing her? Didn’t her killer want her to know what they were doing to her? And as she thought that it was as if her tormentor had heard it.
                                                                                          A body slowly came into view. It was relatively narrow, but tall and despite how thin it seemed to be there was no issue with strength. Instead it was if the person’s body had forgone fat in lieu of muscle. For now that the person was easier to see, it was clear to Esme that they had clearly worked hard to stay this fit. It was then that their face came into view. And if she had enough oxygen to scream she would have. As it was her whole body jerked, trying to throw the person off and get away from them. She desperately wanted away from him. Clearly male. So very, very clearly male. A face she would never forget. One she would never want to forget and the fact that he was the one killing her! Oh! It hurt her in a place that wasn’t her heart or her mind. No. It was much deeper than either of those.
                                                                                          And then there was a knife; oh she wanted to cry, but her body needed the oxygen so much more that she couldn’t cry. “Do you know why I am going to do this? Why I am going to kill you Smee?” The man asked, dragging the knife into her shirt. Cutting a hole in it. Smee wished she could answer, that she’d be allowed to answer but the hand at her throat hadn’t eased up. Only enough so that she wouldn’t pass out but not enough for a full breath. So instead she shook her head. Knowing full well that the man on top of her killing her would know that she meant more than that little motion signified. “Because you didn’t SAVE me. Because YOU my dear little sister KILLED me.” He said before plunging the knife into her chest…

                                                                                          Esme jolted awake with a cry pouring from her lips. Instantly wide-awake and then she started to shake. A litany of why? and Jasper came falling whispered from her lips. After a few minutes the shaking stopped. And she turned to look at the clock. The colour; that violent, vicious red offended her. And before she could stop herself she picked it up and threw it as hard as she could across the room. It hit the adjacent wall and broke into several places. The sound of shattering plastic easing the ache in her chest slightly. “Lights on, thirty percent power.” She said before tossing the sheets back. She rolled her head and neck around sighing as a few cervical vertebrae popped before standing.

                                                                                          She cast a glance at the wall opposite the doorway and to the analog clock there before groaning. ‘Four fifty-seven AM. ******** forty-five minutes. s**t.’ She thought as she saw the clock half wanting to crawl back under her covers and fall back asleep and realizing that, that was never going to happen. She sighed and took a seat on the floor. Knowing that allowing her nightmare to affect her today would get nothing done. Instead she grabbed the watch from her bedside table and set an alarm. She didn’t want to be late to work because she needed to get a handle on her emotions. And then she focused and everything fell away.

                                                                                          The next thing she noticed was the sound of a very annoying, very obnoxious, shrill beeping. ‘Oh the alarm.’ She thought before pressing the button to make it stop. Her watched showed that it was now 5:45 am and time for her to get ready for the day. Her mood had improved, but just barely. She was still hurting over the twist her dream had taken, but it had dulled now. The desire to rage, scream, cry, and break things was no longer there. But it felt barely contained like any single thing would set it loose again. Instead of focusing on it though Smee forced herself to concentrate on the actions of moving. Literally every action from move your feet so they are flat against the floor, to now push yourself up using your quadriceps, to straighten your spine, to put one foot in front of the other.

                                                                                          Doing that allowed her to regain a certain amount of control over her emotions and mental state of wellbeing. She made her way to her shower, manually turning the lights on. Blinking as her eyes had to adjust. It never took her long to shower. She had so many other things to do with her day. But today she gave herself the luxury of twenty minutes instead of her normal five to seven. She needed those extra minutes. She finished quickly and walked to her closet, letting the air dry her instead of a towel. Her clothing was simple. She really didn’t feel like getting overly dressed today. Instead she pulled on a black cashmere mock-neck sweater, a pair of well word but loved faded grey skinny jeans, thick socks, and her black knee high steel toe boots. Smee threw her hair up into a ponytail and tightened it to the point that her scalp started to complain.

                                                                                          She looked at the clock and shrugged before grabbing her work tablet and her communication device. She left her room and headed towards the bridge. It was almost always one of her first stops in the morning. Her science labs waited until she had dealt with the more pressing matters of the day. And then she heard it: and we regret to inform you we will be experiencing delays; engines six, eight and fourteen have stalled. Outwardly the only change to her demeanor was a small frown and a quickened pace towards the bridge. Hoping (doubtful she did know what day it was after all) to beat Elle to the bridge.

                                                                                          And of course she didn’t. Don’t ask her how she knew (okay you could the answer was fairly obvious) but she knew Elle was already on the bridge and probably working her way to enraged. Today was never a good day for anything to go wrong. So she took a few seconds to brace herself. To push everything bothering down as hard and as far as she could, then made sure that she projected her normal peaceful, happy appearance. Even if she felt anything but doing that, before walking through the doors and into the bridge. And before she could even make a sweeping glance at who all was present Elle was coming her way with a…well quite frankly she looked very murderous. And OH! Smee’s head snapped to the other side from the force of Elle’s slap. The pain in her cheek flared bright and sharp, making her eyes want to water. “Where the hell is my pixie dust?”

                                                                                          Smee took a few seconds to collect herself. Crying was not allowed. Crying was for sissies and she was not a damn sissy. And it wouldn’t be appropriate to turn around and slap Elle in turn. So she straightened her head and willed herself not to cry, and more importantly not to run from the room so that she could hurt in the peace of her own room. Smee walked to the nearest communications console and pressed a button. “If I could have a moment of everyone’s time. This is First Officer Deveraux. As of twenty-one hundred hours the presence of Pixie Dust has been banned and removed from the ship. This is in affect until further notice; please look to your notice box on your work tablets for further explanations and information. Thank you.” She said before removing her finger from the button, having effectively sent that verbal notice ship wide.

                                                                                          And if her eyes were bright with anger, her tone more clipped than usual, and her words delivered in a colder tone than she normally used then she didn’t care. She didn’t feel like pandering to everyone’s image of her. She didn’t have the energy to do so when all she wanted to do was lash out at someone and make them hurt like she was hurting. She took another minute to slowly and methodically straighten herself up one vertebra at a time before turning back to Elle and Lemon, her smile back on her face and her eyes still bright. But hopefully they would confuse rage with the pain she still felt radiating from her cheek. Because god help the next idiot who said the wrong thing to her.

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                                                                                Sleep. He recognized that bodily need before promptly ejecting it from his mind. He was fine. He had at least another two days, fifteen hours, and seventeen minutes before he should give sleep some serious consideration. And then another twelve to twenty-four hours after that point before either he slept by his own choice or because his body choose for him. Either way he was good and could continue on doing whatever it was that he was doing. What was that?....OH YEAH! Cleaning. More specifically, laundry. He really, really needed to do laundry. Somehow it appeared to be copulating and breeding at an exponential rate. Or it might be because it got piled on top of something else.

                                                                                But he doubted that as he would have noticed if something he needed was underneath the…five…no six, there was a small pile under the bed itself…Piles of laundry his room currently held. When exactly did he get all of this clothing?! John paused at the pile he was currently attacking with fervor to think about that. ‘I left home with…ten shirts; of which there were four tee shirts, one tank top, two polo vests, two regular button down shirts, and one silk button down belonging to my suit (it is not a tuxedo). Twelve pairs of trousers; five of which were jeans, two pairs of sweat pants, three regular trousers (one in black, one in dark navy blue, and one in grey), one pair of shorts, and my black (silk/Egyptian cotton blend) suit trousers. Six jackets; two relatively lightweight jackets (one with a hood), two suit jackets (of the non-formal attire variety), one cold weather jacket, and his suit jacket (definitely formal attire, like the matching trousers. Jet-black, silk/Egyptian cotton blend and tailored. Yes definitely formal attire.) And ten ties, seven were of moderate quality made for the 9-5 working class business man (varying hues, shades, and prints), and three were bow-ties (because frankly bow ties are cool.)’ He thought before shaking his head to focus back on his task.

                                                                                Which is why he was curious as to why he had so far dug out fifteen ties, ‘Must be borrowing them from Teddy, wash and return them.’ and three tops he had never seen before in his life yet fit him perfectly. ‘Remember to check finances later. See if any purchases made recently as I clearly do not remember them.’ He had also unearthed two different pairs of shoes that were missing their mate. But they were familiar to him so he knew they were his for sure. He would have been vaguely concerned if his persistent (read: annoying) crush on Teddy had led him to taking various items of teddy’s in a rather stalker like manner. ‘Good Lord I hope not. How embarrassing would that be? But honestly outside of myself, Teddy would be the only other person on board who would wear ties like that. So I must be borrowing them from him somehow.’ John thought as he riffled through the pile.

                                                                                Clothing was wadded up and thrown at the laundry cleaner (handy, handy thing to have on board the ship. Kept from having to dedicate a large section of the ship to a laundry room and the hundreds of people needed to keep up with all the laundry this ship could produce). The lid kept open so that it wouldn’t start until he had thrown everything in he wanted washed (it was going to take more than one load. John admitted to himself). Anyway the reason why he was cleaning (and had managed to work himself into one of his manic states on top of it) was because he couldn’t find his damn throwing knives.

                                                                                And he NEEDED to find those knives. It was very, very important that he should do so and soon. He had an appointment to keep and he did so hate to run late or keep someone waiting. It was incredibly rude, and one of the few things he couldn’t tolerate. (Bills on the other hand could kiss his sodding arse. Because he couldn’t be buggered to care about those. That’s why they had accountants to do things like that in the first place.) John noticed belatedly that the laundry cleaner was already overly full so instead of throwing more in there he threw the dirty clothing towards it to sit at the base and grow into another pile there. And so it was by sheer dumb luck that he barely kept from slicing his palm open when one of his throwing knives revealed itself from a wadded up towel.

                                                                                ‘Not very old if the scent is anything to go by. A day…three tops. Lacks that distinctly…’ His attention was caught by the several pieces of shiny metal that had been revealed when the towel in question had been thrown at the laundry cleaner. John crowed in glee. Oh, he had found them. Well…not all of them he had two sets but he had found the entirety of one set. Besides when he found the second set later it would give him another reason to stop by Pearl’s workspace and chat with her. And she needed someone to talk to that was glaringly apparent, and quite frankly Mr. Evans ‘Lemon. What kind of ******** up person names their kid Lemon? I mean really, why stop there he could have been named Lemon Parsnip Evans. How horrible would that have been? I have to admit whoever named him (mother most likely a father wouldn’t do that to his son) clearly was spot on about his personality.’ isn’t the best company I mean he’s so uptight, and that’s the kind of company Pearl needs. Someone who knows how to let loose and have some fun. He thought as he stood up and did a quick stretch.

                                                                                He heard a few joints pop as he stretched before relaxing and moving over to his closet to find something to wear. He very nearly cried when he saw that the only thing clean was in fact his very nice, very fancy suit. He detested wearing that thing. He really did. But a quick sniff test showed that the pyjamas he was in were not clean enough to be worn outside of his room. And not wanting to do a sniff test on each piece of clothing he had found thus far, left him with only one choice. To wear the suit. And because it was a nice suit that meant he’d have to shower. Well he could use one anyway but he would have preferred to have a proper reason to shower. A prank covering him in evidence or something like that. But as it was he’d have to avoid pranks today. He refused to ruin this suit. Even if he hated wearing the damn thing.

                                                                                So he took a quick shower, used the air jets in the bathroom to dry off and quickly got dressed. He didn’t really slick back his hair, only because it wasn’t as if he was attending a black tie event. So his hair was in its normal array. It was longer than he liked (next time he was in port he’d have to get it cut) falling past his ears but an inch or so away from his chin. Far, far, far too long in his personal opinion. Otherwise he’d do it himself…It would be an interesting experiment to say the least. John shook his head before straightening the tie and tucking it in so it laid underneath the suit jacket before throwing on the first pair of shoes he could find (trainers, neon blue) and grabbing his knives before leaving his room.

                                                                                People were running around, all helter skelter. Which means that something last night got ******** up in some manner. Which means no one was likely to have a good day. Not to mention King Ebeau least of all. Her parents died on this day several years back and it was her birthday. So perhaps his wearing the suit was quite apropos after all. John made sure to avoid coming into contact with anyone that looked like they even carried a single particle of dirt on his way to the Weapon’s Workshop. He had no desire to allow a) their dirt ruin his suit or b) let their stupidity come into contact with him right now. After all it could be contagious.

                                                                                He made it down to the Weapon’s Workshop without incident. Quite thankful of that fact. He had money he could access but doing so to buy a new suit, (which would require at least three separate fitting sessions for correct tailoring) was not something he could readily do at this time. So when he walked into the workshop he found Pearl immediately and smiled. She had just dropped an armful of items before he had entered the room and so far none of her subordinates were trying to rectify that. Instead they were all staring at her like the idiots they were.

                                                                                “Pearl! Here let me help you with those!” He said, going straight to her side before picking up the items he was least likely to get injured by or ruin his suit with before gently placing them down on the nearest clear workspace. “You didn’t hurt yourself on anything did you?” He asked, genuinely concerned. The reason why he was there temporarily forgotten while he helped her out. “Did anything break?” He asked. Some of it already looked dismantled including a few security cameras that he knew were installed through out the ship. He filed that tidbit away to look at a later date. “If I’m interrupting I can come back later. I mean…you know how my schedule is.” He said with a small laugh.

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                                                                          Sleep had been an elusive quarry for many years now. First with the war, then with prison, and now with being the only pilot onboard The Neverland; it wasn’t easy, not at all. And she didn’t fully trust the autopilot system. It could mess up and it couldn’t know how to properly get out of a potentially dangerous situation like she did. Which is why Ami or Nibs as everyone here had a tendency to call her; had made a makeshift bed on the floor in front of the main consol looking out at the stars. It wasn’t much; a couple roughly sewn together tatami mats, a single foam cushion cut to size, and blankets with a pillow for her head. But it was her bed and allowed her to sleep where she was most comfortable. In the cockpit, where she could easily reach some of the most important buttons or levers on the console.

                                                                          But what was most surprising was the fact that she was surprisingly warm. Normally heating in the cockpit was shitty. She was good at controlling her temperature, but when she went to sleep she had a habit of pulling on an extra layer or two. But today? She was warm and deliciously naked. And currently quite happily sleeping underneath a couple of blankets next to a wonderfully warm heat source and even better was that the heat source was a deliciously naked man. She wasn’t dreaming, but she was in that state between sleep and awake. That lovely warm fuzzy space where you could go either way. Either back into a deep slumber or become awake slowly to enjoy the day. And apparently today was going to be one of those slow to wake days. Because Amira’s sense of smell kicked in and noticed the scent of breakfast goods cooking away. And while she was quite content to stay right there for at least another hour, (She deserved it damn it she never got enough sleep.) the rumbling that came from her bed partner’s belly let her know that soon enough he would be up and moving.

                                                                          Ami almost sighed when Timothy finally got up and pulled the blankets in tighter around herself. If she was losing her heat source she wasn’t going to let the warm blanket go to waste. Warmth was something she hadn’t had while sleeping for quite some time and gorram it she was going to enjoy it. She had just started to drift back asleep when Tootles ran his fingers over her rib cage. Her incredibly sensitive, touch it hard and with directness otherwise I’m going to howl and shriek with laughter ribs. She wanted to groan, she really did. She was just about to fall back asleep and now there was no way for her to do that. Her ribs were alight with sensation trying to figure out if they still needed to freak out or if they could calm down. She moved started to move at a sluggish pace after he said. “C’mon, breakfast is ready.”

                                                                          She had barely gotten to standing up when she heard his yelp of “Sonuvabitch!” Where she was for once very glad that she was on the shorter side. Because everyone over 5’6” had to freaking watch out for that beam. Coming or going it had a habit of getting people in the forehead. Ami stood slowly and moved to pick her clothing off of the floor and got dressed. Her body was wonderfully sore, the kind of sore you get after having a good bout of extra curricular nighttime activities. The feeling brought a pleased and satisfied smile to her lips. Pulling them upwards at the corners, smiling but just barely past the point where it could be considered a grin or a smirk. Oh yes, she planned on having at least another night (or day she wasn’t picky) with the good doctor. And if it went on for longer she wasn’t going to complain.

                                                                          After all her dry spell was officially broken, and damn the man he was a very good bed partner. It was a good thing she could focus at several things at once otherwise she’d never be able to fly this piece of 'Jung chi duh go-se dway.' Ami sighed and left the cockpit. She wouldn’t be gone long. Long enough to take a military shower, get food, and come back. So maybe a grand total of fifteen minutes. With that in mind she practically ran to the bathroom and locked herself in. She didn’t shower very often and when she did it was always a quick affair. She didn’t want to waste any hot water. Or water period for that matter. But there were days where she would kill to have a long hot shower, or even better a nice long soak in a scented oiled bath.

                                                                          She finished her shower in less than five minutes and dried off in quick economical movements before getting dressed. Her pants were black and fraying at the knees, her tank top was a faded well worn almost threadbare favourite, and she decided to ditch the bra. It really wasn’t worth it right now. And well…she wanted to see if she could entice Tootles. After all a girl has to have her priorities. She threw on her normal thick (even if the toes and heels were starting to get holes) socks before throwing on her normal boots. They were two sizes too big for her but until the next time they hit port she couldn’t get anything that fit.

                                                                          Ami brushed her teeth before leaving the bathroom and heading to the kitchen. She noticed that everyone had gotten there before her but couldn’t really be bothered enough to care. Hell she didn’t even care if everyone saw what she was about to do. Ami came up behind Tootles where he was sitting and coaxed his head back before kissing him almost chastely on the lips before feathering a kiss over the red spot on his forehead where the beam had hit him before straightening and grabbing the last available plate. “Thanks for the food. I’ll bring the plate back later. Morning everyone!” And if no one had figured it out already. Yes Ami was a very, very happy girl and not even Peter’s black mood (well hidden but please she could still tell when men were pissy) was going to change that.

                                                                          With those words she laid another chaste kiss on Tim's lips before sashaying (yes she knew what she was doing with her hips.) from the kitchen on her way back to the cockpit. She really didn't like leaving that space for too long. It was her space, and it was her job to make sure that everyone on this ship was kept safe. Between Tink's efforts of maintaining the ship and her piloting skills they did a damn fine job of it. And despite that they were in space there was a shocking amount of debris to handle and deal with. Mind you the war between Peter and Elle had created more debris for her to remember and plan around. Or on occasion have to skillfully avoid when it came of out nowhere. And yes space debris could and would appear out of ******** nowhere leaving one to swear like crazy as it was avoided. Ami practically sighed as she reached the cockpit. It was if something righted and settled itself in her mind and body. This was her element. This was where she was at her best.

                                                                          She took a seat in the pilot's seat and disengaged the autopilot before tapping away at a few screens to draw up navigational information, charts, and atmospheric reports. They would be coming to a port soon and she needed the most up to date information to make sure she could plot the appropriate approach trajectory. Not to mention see if there was anything too look out for. Then she opened a separate communication line. She encoded it first before typing in her message. 'Ry. Be in your area soon. Need two pairs of size 12 men's work boots. Do this and your clear in my book. ~A' Ami sent the message knowing that it'd get to the right person.

                                                                          She had contacts all over thanks to her years working with her father. And this particular one had owed her a huge favor. He'd been working it off for a while now, but this last one made him clear in her book. Clean slate and all. She used some of her contacts to help the crew of The Neverland and some were purely personal. She still hadn't contacted her father, simply because she didn't want him to be targeted because of her. Though she knew he'd do anything he could to help her it just felt wrong to drag him into this. And some of the messages she sent were simply for herself. Items she needed or desperately wanted. She had more than enough money to pay for all the stuff she wanted. "Thanks mom. You are saving my hide." She said out loud. Her mother's profession had paid her well. And that was before you could look at all the jewelry and other items her clients had given her. Ami was set for life thanks to her mom. The work with her dad paid off too. But she had learned early on there was something more powerful than money. Favors.

                                                                          Ami sighed as she closed the message center down and tucked into her food. It was good. No one could say that Riley couldn't cook. The woman was great at it. Ami just couldn't figure her out. Why would someone of such privilege decide to give up her cushy life and help them out? It made no sense to her. Why give it all up to live like this? Ami wasn't living this badly even when she was living with her father on the ship he worked on. The ship was kept in tip-top shape, if something broke it was normally something small like the autochef. And thusly easily fixed. And it wasn't as if this ship was the worst thing out there. It was just...it took a lot of work and love to keep her going. And it seemed that something broke once a week. And it was never the same damn thing twice. Plus Peter didn't seem to care about it as much as he should. Ami sighed and moved her empty plate to the top of the console and pressed a button. Instantly AC/DC's Highway to Hell came blaring out of the speakers. The sound floating out of the cockpit and into the adjacent corridors.

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Aedan’s head was swimming. It literally felt like he was trying to stay afloat in the middle of an ocean during a storm. Every time he thought he had everything under control it was like another wave would rise up and try to drown him again. He wasn’t a strategist. He was the brawn, he was the battering ram. The tool. He never planned anything. He was quick to action but mainly because he was reacting to whatever was going on around him. Everyone else was the thinkers and the planners. He…he couldn’t make a plan and follow it if he tried. That was his mother’s, Cadence’s, and even Dorian’s area of expertise. He was the one that followed after them.

But Cadence wasn’t here and he could barely keep the images at bay. Those children, before they were taken. How they were before he shot them, how they were now after he had shot them and hacked away at them. He didn’t want to go back out into that fray. He didn’t want to face that carnage again. He…he couldn’t. He was strong, god he was strong. He could take a lot, but those children? He couldn’t think of them as things, even if that’s what they were now. They were children. Twisted damaged, mutilated, tormented children. And all he could keep thinking of was the fact that he was continuously killing someone’s child. Just like Lacy had killed his daughter. Okay he could admit the circumstances were drastically and radically different. Lacy killed cause she was ******** crazy, he was killing them because he had wanted to spare them of what had been done to them.

It didn’t make him feel any better knowing it. After all, the parents of these kids would never see them again. Just like he would never see his daughter again. As a parent he knew how much it would hurt. He knew how much it would destroy those parents. His thoughts were thankfully, blissfully broken by Anna’s words and actions. She and Sara would need a knife. Sarah would need a gun…He had both. And plenty of ammo. Anna’s words rang through his skull “I think I might remember where he headed”. It was like it was on repeat. If she could remember what way Cadence had gone then maybe, just maybe they could find him before something else was unleashed on them. There were still plenty of kidnapped people in this building. And after what had happened to the missing kids he was ready to piss himself at the thought of what might be coming their way.

And then Sara was talking and moving. Aedan tried to pay attention, he really did but his thoughts were chaotic, and there was still the pressure on the door coming from the children on the other side. He vaguely answered no to the few questions that had his name in them. It was the sudden lessening of weight against the other side of the door that shocked him out of his mental fog. Immediately he was standing, the duffel full of weapons and ammo digging into his side. Jolting him into even more alertness. “Here.” He said pulling the knife from his boot free. It wasn’t as long as his hunting knife was but it was still wicked sharp. It was perhaps the only item of his father’s he had kept. The military issue k-bar.

Like the hunting knife it was serrated on one side and smooth on the other. Allowing for more damage. He handed it to Anna before pulling the gun at his ankle free and placing it firmly into Sara’s hands. “Clearly guns won’t kill them but it puts them down for a little bit. Use that time to get free and find someplace to either hide or keep running from them. They seem to be slow enough. Don’t get caught in a group. And for God’s sake only use a single bullet at a time.” He said before opening the bag and tossing a few clips at Anna and Sara. “Aim for the head. Shoot them through the eyes. It’s another kill shot. It’ll keep them down long enough to give you time to move…” He was stopped by the sound of a children’s nursery rhyme. Three Blind Mice. He had been with Cadence long enough to know a talented voice when he heard one, but he was…God. It was so ******** up.

And then the song was finished. He was terrified of what could come next. He pressed his back even more firmly against the door. The voice was adult, which meant that the singer could have a chance of opening the door. More so than the children. But god he wanted to move from the door. He didn’t know what the person was like on the other side if they were as horribly mutilated as those children had been. But he didn’t want to give them free access to the room either. And then the words he didn’t want to hear came. “You may as well come out now, you barge into our home without invitation, the least you can do is show yourselves.” He looked at Anna and Sara. Sara’s words annoyed him.

What was out there? Clearly not the monster that killed and mutilated those children. That voice had been decidedly masculine. By the words it spoke it wasn’t one of the missing women. It had said our home so there was another monster in this building. “Another monster. Because nothing else could stand by as someone did…what was done to those children. And those children seem to respond to it. So Sara I’d say another ******** monster. The only question is how bad is this one? Or potentially how many more monsters live here?” Aedan said, his voice was low. And he couldn’t keep his annoyance out of his words. But he didn’t want the creature on the other side of the door to hear him either.

If they had to come up with a plan he didn’t want it to know it. He couldn’t risk it telling its friend their plan. But before he could even contemplate coming up with a plan he heard it. Music. Beautiful, talented, wonderful music. Being played by a pair of skilled, terrified fingers. ‘Oh god. Cadence.’ Aedan thought, his mouth falling open before snapping shut. He would recognize Cadence’s work or skill anywhere. He knew Cadence’s music at the very depths of his ragged soul. Before he could even stop himself, before he could even remember that they needed to stick together he had the door open and was sprinting down the hall.

If the children or the other monster grabbed at him Aedan couldn’t tell because he was back at the entry. He paused for a few precious seconds trying to get a sense of where the music was coming from before he bolted up the stairs. Not the ones the other stupid man had bolted up but it’s twins on the other side of the entry. Unbarred and so far free of bodies. His legs moved him up the first flight of steps easily and quickly. He paused at the landing once again listening. The first song had ended and now another had begun. “CADENCE!” He bellowed, his voice almost drowning out the music and echoing eerily through the hallway. ‘Cadence, Cadence, Cadence. Please don’t stop. Please lead me to you. Please, please, please be safe.’ He thought following the notes of the second song. Only at a more sedate pace. He was in unfamiliar territory.

This was a new floor and he didn’t know if it was booby-trapped or if there were more mutilated bodies coming for him. He didn’t know if the creator of those children had placed anything up here to send after him. He couldn’t help but wonder as he moved if this was all some sick twisted game for the inhabitants of this building. His heart was pounding out a rapid beat in his chest, and each time he opened a door to sweep the rooms as he moved through the hallway his heartbeat increased exponentially. He wasn’t as cautious as he could be. He didn’t know how many songs Cadence would play. And he couldn’t risk getting lost trying to find him. He knew how to get back down to the entry. What room he had left Anna and Sarah in. God he hoped they were okay. That they had barred the door shut once he had barreled through it. He hoped he left them with enough ammo. That even though he was now on his own that they would stick together.

Mostly he hoped that they would understand. Cadence was his heart. If Cadence died or god forbid was…used like those children were he wouldn’t be able to survive it. Cadence was his reason for living, and each breath was Cad’s not his. By the time he reached the middle of the hall the song had ended and another started. ‘Thank you Cad. Thank you. I’m coming for you. Just keep playing baby. Keep playing and I’ll find you. I won’t let you go again. Please just keep playing.’ He thought willing his thoughts to Cadence. A flight of fancy, but he hoped that Cadence would hear them nonetheless. He didn’t see any cameras but he had his gun in his right hand and his knife in his left. He couldn’t allow himself to be ambushed or taken by surprise again.

He made it to the other end of the hallway when the fourth song started. He was going in the right direction. Every step he took the notes of the violin became clearer. Louder. But the hallway messed with the direction. All he knew was that he was closer than he had been even five minutes before. But not direction the music was coming from directly. Clearly not through the comms. It wasn’t distorted like the monster’s voice had been when he had spoken to them. And in the precious time he had taken to try to figure out where it was coming from resulted in him losing the one thing he had to find Cadence by. The music stopped. Aedan waited to see if a new song was about to begin but nothing came his way. Aedan stood in silence for a minute before he realized he had just lost his one way to find Cad.

He pressed his right hand to his head, the handle of the gun digging into his scalp. ‘No, no, no, no, NO! Don’t stop! Cadence please! PLEASE! Play something anything. Call out for me. Give me something please. Please.’ He thought, wanting to spin. Why? Why couldn’t he figure out where it had come from. And now that it wasn’t there he couldn’t figure out where to go to next. “CADENCE!!!! CADENCE! DON’T STOP PLAYING! KEEP PLAYING BABY I’M COMING FOR YOU!” Aedan bellowed, his voice carrying further now that it didn’t have the music to compete with. “I’m coming…just please baby. Please hang on. Stay alive for me. Please god let him live…”

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                                                                                          Pain fed her rage. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be angry. God she hated it. It left her feeling drained. But even the fact that she hated being angry was making her more upset. Today it seemed was going to be about vicious cycles. Like in her nightmare. The desire for one thing fed the other, and around and around it went. And she was desperately trying to keep everything in. Hell she had no desire to act out on the bridge. But soon enough she could leave. ******** her experiments or the painting she wanted to work on today. Instead she’d go to one of the rec rooms and find someone stupid enough to spar with. And if she couldn’t find someone she’d ******** with a sparring bot so that it wouldn’t hold back. She was in no mood to play nice, but she knew that she couldn’t let people see her give in and break Elle’s face open.

                                                                                          She felt like she was made for violence today and she didn’t care. ‘******** this. ******** them. ******** Elle. I don’t need this bullshit. I don’t care if it’s her birthday or the anniversary of her parent’s death. I’m tired of being the one who has to take everyone else’s s**t. So they can all ******** off and kiss my a**.’ Smee thought not looking anyone directly in the face, because she knew that those thoughts had clearly telegraphed themselves across her face as she had thought them. And no one, absolutely no one wanted to know that she was five seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out with her bare hands.

                                                                                          And then Smee made a mistake. Thinking she was okay enough to look up without giving anything away she made the mistake of looking at Lemon. Such a huge mistake, but she hadn’t wanted to look at Elle. Hadn’t wanted to see if Elle still looked like murdering someone or if she would strike her again. OH! Ooohhhhh she wanted to kill him. Wipe that hideous grin off his face in the most violent of manners. Rip the side of his mouth open so he couldn’t grin. She wished desperately that she had stopped at her lab first so she could throw some acid on his face and watch it burn and melt it into something horrific and grotesque. She knew whatever he was planning wasn’t going to be good for her. No whatever that man had planned was probably going to send her spiraling into complete and uncontrollable rage. But she hoped, god did she hope. That he would be wiser than that right now. Because she didn’t know if she would be able to stop herself from reacting violently to whatever that infuriating man was going to do.

                                                                                          She. Was. Going. To. KILL. Lemon. Literally kill him. To the rest of the crew it probably looked like he was following the newest rule of the ship. But Smee knew better. He was doing it to ******** undermine her. The real reason she had banned alcohol on board was because Elle was a ******** alcoholic. Functioning alcoholic, but an alcoholic nonetheless. And Smee was ******** tired of having to deal with it or even ******** worry that someone would find out about this vice and bring trouble straight to Elle’s pretty bedroom door. And Lemon knew as well, being Elle’s lover meant that he knew more than most. So he was blatantly throwing everything back in her face.

                                                                                          Did he think that maybe this would gain him more of his lover’s favor? Or cast him as a better ally to Elle? The man was delusional. And she knew, she knew the moment he pulled out his flask what was going to happen. And poor Rebecca Johnson his assistant knew as well. Clearly hadn’t planned on it happening, but knew how likely it was that the reaction was going to be less than pleasant. She probably would have been fine if she had just handed the flask over, but instead the man smiled widely looking straight at her. So she bloody knew he was trying to provoke her. But instead of reacting like he probably thought she would which was making some sort of scene Smee did the opposite. She stiffened her body as tight as she could, drawn up even straighter and adopted such a stiff military posture that anyone would have known something was wrong. And then she did it.

                                                                                          One: Wait until I am dismissed, my path of leaving takes me directly past Lemon on my right.
                                                                                          Two: As I pass strike him in the throat using dominant hand. Quickly, so he won’t have time to guess what I’m planning. Use his shock as an advantage. Quickly take the stylus pen from tablet and shove it into his right eye. Blinding him.
                                                                                          Three: While he is still reeling from the first two attacks and his sudden blindness; quickly grab him by the head and take him to the floor. He was in the military so expect generous amounts of resistance and plenty of specialized training.

                                                                                          His advantage is strength and years of experience. My advantage is my agility and surprising amount of knowledge with altercations and the human body.

                                                                                          Four: As best as possible, avoid all incoming blows are attempts for him to roll us over. By no means allow him to be the one on top. Use knee to groin once on the floor for additional shock and to prevent additional struggling on his part.
                                                                                          Five: Release head. Use left forearm to hold him at the throat applying ample pressure to slowly crush larynx. At the same time apply right fist to his face. Pressure should exceed no more than twenty-five pounds per square inch for optimum pain receptivity. Aim for cheek, nose, and eyes at least three times for each location.
                                                                                          Six: Remove arm from throat. The sudden influx of air should take precedence over injuries. Proceed to grab head on both sides and with as much force as necessary or available bash his head into the floor.
                                                                                          Seven: Ignoring any and all noises and movements made by the other officers on the bridge. Even ignoring the way blood will spill onto the floor. The force I would create from the upward jerk of his head to the downward shove of it into the floor would exceed ten pounds of pressure.
                                                                                          Eight: Ten pounds of pressure would crush the skull. First blow wouldn’t be fatal, between blows two and four bone fragments from his skull would break off. Severing the blood-brain barrier and Falx, potentially the Tentorium as well. This would lead to additional blood splatter and a decrease in mental capability and functions. Bone shards would continue to puncture the occipital lobe and would increase in size with additional blows.
                                                                                          Nine: Do not stop until all movement has ceased.
                                                                                          Ten: For good measure proceed to shove the heel of right palm against his broken nose sending deadly shards of bone and cartilaginous tissue into his brain.
                                                                                          Eleven: Stand up and proceed to brig.
                                                                                          Twelve: I cannot be convicted of killing a fellow military officer I am not subject to military law.
                                                                                          Thirteen: Upon stop at next port surrender myself to the justice system for appropriate action to be taken.’

                                                                                          She thought, still looking at Lemon. Anything he had said had been ignored in favor of her murder plot. And she was quite sure if anyone had looked at her they would have know she was tempted to murder him. So it really was a testament to her will power that she hadn’t already acted on those thoughts. Even if she couldn’t deny that she was very sorely tempted to. She took what was handed to her by rote. But any words that she knew came from Lemon’s mouth were completely ignored. She didn’t trust herself to hear him say anything lest it break her already tenuous hold on her need for violence. He really was providing a very tempting target for it was well.

                                                                                          Besides she would have time later to look over whatever had been handed to her. She doubted it would be the end of the world if for once she didn’t look at it right away. Hell Smee only barely noted the fact that Elle had placed the flask on the desk behind her. She was still rather enjoying the visuals her mind had supplied her. It wasn’t until Elle slammed her fist against a table that Smee focused on what was going on around her again. Elle’s words echoed in her head and her honest to god first reaction was to open her mouth and tell Elle exactly where she could shove her bullshit. Preferably up her cooch using an operating chainsaw. And ******** you very much SIR.

                                                                                          Smee’s second reaction was to say something childish like why don’t you get off your lazy drunk royal a** and do it yourself your HIGHNESS. Instead she went with her third reaction. She walked over to where Elle was sitting and as calmly, quietly, and quickly as she possibly could snatched the silver flask and vehemently with forceful rage threw it down the nearest incinerator chute. Before turning to look at Elle. She clicked her heels together before her wrist snapped to her forehead in a perfect military salute. “Yes Captain. Understood Captain.” Before striding from the bridge. Knowing full well her reaction was still highly childish and bordering on insubordination. She honestly didn’t give a ********.

                                                                                          As soon as the doors closed behind her Smee stormed for her room. And thankfully everyone seemed to realize that now was not the ******** time to approach her. Because they parted like she was Moses and they were the ******** Red Sea. She didn’t stop until she reached her room. As the door slid shut behind her she locked it. There was a vase on the table to her right. And her hands ******** itched to throw it and hear it shatter. Instead she stripped and changed into some ratty clothing before turning her music on. In a deafening cacophony of noise, Crooked Spoons by Otep blared out of the speakers in the room. The music even managed to overwhelm the soundproofing of her walls and doors and could be heard through them and into the hallway.

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                                                                                She wasn’t looking at him. It did make some amount of sense after all no one liked to be thought of as clumsy. So it was likely because of embarrassment. He’d have to let her know later that it didn’t bother him. He was on occasion rather clumsy himself. He didn’t want her to feel like her actions made her seem less important to him. After all he was the one who played pranks. People thought less of him than they did of Pearl. She contributed something truly useful, while all he had was information. Barely useable information at that as well. But soon everything as on the table. He had heard her strange yet entirely endearing apologies, he just ignored them. She was apologizing for something that wasn’t important (at least he hoped nothing that had fallen was important).

                                                                                And then she was looking at him. Well when he said looking he meant it in a very polite manner. Apparently his appearance shocked her. He couldn’t blame her the suit tended to do that. Despite looking very simple it was perfectly tailored so it did compliment his frame rather well. And then he was getting cameras shoved into his hands. The lovely ones that he’s seen around the ship and more recently in the engine rooms. High tech things, beautiful yet still child’s play to tamper with. He was sure he could use them for a prank or two. He listened attentively as Pearl told him about the cameras. It was her area of expertise, and clearly they had more capability than he had thought them to have. It was rather nice of her to give them to him.

                                                                                “I hope you won’t get into trouble for giving me these Pearlie.” John said, his voice staying relatively low. Before throwing in a “I won’t tell anyone where I got them from either. Our little secret.” her way as well as a genuinely happy smile. He really did like her, and she gave him unexpected gifts. And she was going to help him with his throwing knives. Plus when you took the time to get to know her she really was a lovely gal. Pearl was telling him about something else she thought he would enjoy when she cut herself. Before he could even make a fuss over it Pearl had her hand wrapped up (poorly done but functional at least). While Pearl had gone for the first aid kit John started to wipe up the blood on the floor with the handkerchief he had with the suit.

                                                                                When the worst of it was cleaned up and only the slightest difference of colour on the floor would denote where the blood had fallen, he stood and placed the ruined handkerchief on the tabletop. He didn’t care that he had just ruined an expensive accessory to his suit. He cared that there wasn’t a hazard for Pearl to potentially slip on later. And with how her morning seemed to be going the white piece of silk was a small sacrifice if it meant Pearl wouldn’t hurt herself. Besides it could get clean later…possibly. If not it’s not as if he needed the handkerchief. Nor did the suit need it. It was something he had on him. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman after all. And proper gentlemen had handkerchiefs.

                                                                                His attention was broken from the thought of handkerchiefs and proper gentlemen by the arrival of a small robot. He had seen the type around the ship before. Normally closer to the engine rooms. But clearly this one had been modified to deal with injuries in this specific workspace. Once the robot had done it’s job (Pearl’s hand was properly bandaged now), John smiled as she turned her attention back to him. He questions caused him to briefly look at himself. A periphery glance to make sure that there was no blood on his suit. “No, my suit is fine. No need to worry about it.”

                                                                                He said taking a quick second to straighten it out. He did feel incredibly awkward in it now. But it was still better than storming around the ship stark naked. He had no desire to land himself in the brig naked surrounded by other sailors. The knives…OH! Yes! The knives! John handed the package over to Pearl. He had wrapped them in a towel (clean at least) so that they wouldn’t fall out and catch on anything or anyone. “Like I said they’re a little heavier in the hilt so that tiny bit of weight means additional compensation when I throw them. I don’t know what you’d have to do to fix that but…I mean…if you aren’t to busy it’d be great if you could look at them.” He said, glancing around the room again.

                                                                                It looked like everyone was incredibly busy and he really didn’t want to take Pearl’s attention from something more important just to look at his knives. “I mean…I have another set I can use so it’s not like I’m in a hurry you know.” He said, hoping to make it clear he really didn’t need them back anytime soon. Which made him think. “You know; how about we get your hand properly taken care of before I let you get back to work? I mean with the work you do I’m sure it would be easier if your fingers were properly fixed.” He said hoping that it would make sense to Pearl as well. He was quite sure with all the work she was doing having her fingers be useable and uninjured would be a benefit. Even if it was likely she’d injure them again before the end of the day.

                                                                                He smiled at her before grabbing her uninjured hand gently. She did seem rather unused to having people touched her and he didn’t want to startle her. He gently tugged until she fell into step behind him. “I mean clearly with the idiots you work with they couldn’t care less unless you were going to bleed out. They didn’t even bother to help you pick up what had fallen! And in that kind of environment I wouldn’t want anything laying out of place for anyone to even potentially trip over. I mean if I were you as their boss I would at least reprimand them over this oversight in behavior. But considering the environment you all work in I feel you’d personally be better off firing those idiots and hiring people who actually know how to be useful.” John said before giving Pearl a small smile. After all he didn’t know how close she might be to her subordinates.

                                                                                He didn’t care if most of the other weapon’s officers heard what he said. It was entirely true. After all if he hadn’t cleaned up the blood from Pearl’s wound it would have served one of those officers right if they slipped on it and impaled themselves on whatever it was they had been carrying. But he hadn’t wanted that person to be Pearl so he had cleaned it up instead. But she should get those cuts properly treated. Which was why he kept his hold on her hand as gentle as possible while still moving them towards the infirmary. He knew one of the machines there would be able to cause her cells to regenerate. So hopefully within a few minutes the wound would be old history. And it gave John an idea of something he could do too. Later on at least.

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                                                                          The music was playing around her, giving her a soundtrack. It didn’t exactly suit her mood, but it was a good song nonetheless. Hell she liked all the songs she had programmed in, there were times though; that the ones she hadn’t programmed in would be nice. So instead she was humming the song she wished was playing while swiveling the seat back and forth lightly. Her focus was going between the consoles and the windows so she could see what was going on around her.

                                                                          Well…them really. She wasn’t the only person on the ship. But when she was flying it, she tended to forget that sometimes. Mainly because people didn’t really come in here. Well…Peter did on occasion to do his captain thing. But as he was the leader it wasn’t like she could bar him from the space. And every once in a while Tootles or Tink would come in. Slightly left her alone for the most part, even if she didn’t fully leave him alone. She did in fact take some pleasure in going into the observation deck, taking a few books, reading them, and then returning them to the wrong spot. Just to annoy his OCD a**. Cause honestly she was often far to busy in the cockpit to do anything else but that minor amount of annoying.

                                                                          Unless of course she had to pull and immediate evasive maneuver to avoid some sort of debris. But those were normally last minute, incalculable, and entirely not her fault. After all she did try whenever it was about to happen to give some sort of heads up. Not her fault if everyone didn’t get the warning. Ami smiled when she heard Tootles come in. She didn’t need to see him to know it was him. The sound of his two wrong sized shoes hitting the floor told her all she needed to know that way. And even if they hadn’t as soon as he was in the cockpit she could practically smell him.

                                                                          Ami smiled a bit more when he moved into her line of sight. He was obeying the rules she had posted. Even if last night they had fun breaking like half of them. But she waited for him to speak. After all he was the one who came in here, even if she had wanted him to do exactly that she wanted to know why he was here. Maybe Peter had sent him, who knew hence why she waited for him to speak. And then his words were incredibly vague and annoying. Ami shot him a look that clearly said please explain those last words because it’s too freaking early for me to get the man-language behind them. Basically annoyed female. But hey it seemed to work because she was getting an explanation.

                                                                          And before she could answer what was going on between them or more accurately drag his head down to kiss him, Peter entered and interrupted. ‘Kuh-ooh duh lao bao jurn. Go tsao de Hwoon dahn.’ Ami thought before turning to look at Peter. She shrugged even if the news of landing wasn’t shocking to her. “Already knew that tell me something new. Damn thing has been acting up even more than lately and as we all have a keen desire to not die anytime soon I figured either we docked soon or ended up floating through space dead.” Ami said her tone not quite fully sarcastic. But holding enough that it was like a subtle dig at Peter’s seemingly endless lack of care of anything one or anything other than himself.

                                                                          She didn’t particularly care if he knew that fact or not either. She detested how he treated Tink and more than anything else wished she could slap some gorram sense into him. Then again that was what you got when you were raised a certain way. Spoiled, treated you’re your s**t didn’t stink, believing you were better than everyone else. Yeah he could kiss her a**, his attitude never impressed her. She knew him for what he was the moment she had met him. She had grown up around that type; she had seen that type as they got older. They were all the same. Ami rolled her eyes before turning back to the console and punching in a few things before drawing up a map. “Yeah we’re a few hours out from the planet Persephone, and Port Miranda would be a good landing spot. Atmospheric charts look good so far, as do all the subwave frequencies. Nothing big going on around here yet. Should be plenty safe to land there.”

                                                                          Ami said turning back to look at Peter, as it also fell under his desire to stay away from anything tropical or overly hot. “Moderate climate, weather scans are coming back as a clear skies, sunny with a mild breeze, temperature is currently seventy degrees and holding. Anything else? Ami asked wrapping her hands behind her head like she really didn’t care either way. Hopefully they’d be there for a few hours if not more.

                                                                          Everyone needed to get off the damn ship anyway. They were all going a little stir crazy. But she made it clear that as far as she was concerned she had done her damn duty and now had a different matter to attend to. And to be frank she didn’t give a damn if Peter was there or not. Ami turned her gaze back to Tootles and grinned. “Clearly I don’t give a damn about what everyone thinks. Besides it happened and clearly I’d like for it to happen again.” Ami said shooting a look to Peter that in no uncertain terms said get the ******** out of my cockpit. NOW. If the man couldn’t take the non-verbal hint she’d give him the verbal one in a moment.

                                                                          Because right now she had a very delicious idea running through her head about how she’d love to have Timothy bend her over the console and fuc….Ami mentally shook herself from that train of thought so she could properly focus on what was going on around her. Because the second Peter left she was locking the doors and engaging the autopilot to have some more fun with Tim.

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