Welcome to Gaia! ::

For Serafima and Autry. (And Burgundia, just not directly.)


~~~~~~

Getting into the restaurant worked as smoothly as Autry planned: a small private booth towards the back, a few forged autographs, and a quick summary of the movie -- he went with Pirates of the Caribbean in Space to explain the uniform. Serafima was alternately flattered and amused to find she was playing the role of his co-star, Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Even more amusing was the fact that the restaurant staff did not catch on, for the resemblence was just enough to give that "movie stars without the makeup" impression. Autry ordered in flawless Italian; the waitress spoke only English. When the waitress asked, Autry dismissed it as "some Italian he picked up while filming in Rome."

Autry was clearly well-versed in this con, dropping just enough names to spawn gossip without seeming to force the issue of fame and requesting ever so politely that he and Ms Zeta-Jones be left in as much peace as possible and they would be happy to sign a few more autographs after their dinner. Despite this, they were still visited by each of the wait staff at least once and peppered with extras from the kitchen and the wine cellar: a bottle of the restaurant's finest, on the house. Autry insisted on pouring the glasses himself just to show off his pouring technique and make comments about the vintage, about which he seemed to know a bit too much.

"Michael Douglas," said Autry, for knowing the subject was essential to any good con. "I suppose that really depends on how Ms. Zeta-Jones and Mr. Norton behave at the table." He smiled impishly and raised his glass to her in toast. He drank a bit too quickly, too, which was never a good sign, nanopurges or not.

Apparently the no alcohol rule did not apply to fancy Italian restaurants, or Autry was not lying when he confessed to being impressed by the vintage. He set his glass down three-quarters empty and helped himself to the stuffed tomatoes courtesy the head chef. He seemed to know the precise method for serving and eating everything, but Serafima could not help but to notice a slight tenseness in his posture. As accomplished as he was, somewhere deep inside he was uncomfortable. It was an indication of a pretender so minute that only an eye for detail as exacting as Serafima's could have picked it up,

"Oh?" was all he said in response, lifting a piece of delicately roasted tomato to his mouth. He hummed with content. As good as the chef promised. He washed it down with the rest of his glass of wine and poured another. "We're movie stars. A bit of rumor-suggestion is expected. It pays for the extras to the meal. Unless it makes you uncomfortable?" His tone was highly suggestive, almost daring her to act. His insistence on her taking the lead was almost chivalrous. Just with the wrong motivation.

Autry scraped his fork against his plate and propped his chin in his hand, sliding his elbow foreward on the tablecloth, eyes dangerously half-lidded like a snake. "So I'm bad company?" He could have been remarking in amusement. Just as easily it could have been a threat.

Autry looked down at his plate, running his fork through the oil and vinegar. "It's not much of an investigation. I'm just here for the grunt work. Gunn and du Pont are the inquisitors. I'm supposed to be tracking down more witnesses, but my area's sort of stalled." He gave a small shrug and picked up another slice of tomato. "It's not as if this is an important or dangerous investigation." The slice disappeared and he savored the delicate balance of flavors.

"So far just feien," said Autry, as he had no way of knowing that Gunn and du Pont were already pursuing active leads with bonds. "Since the feien we're looking for all disappeared before we arrived on Gaia, I don't think the notice board is going to be much help." He stayed away from the topic of his specific tasking. If he revealed he had gone outside his orders it could be problematic.

That shocked Autry. "Dangerous?" He could think of a lot of reasons not to trust the Fleet, most of them ones he invented to justify the fact that he did not want to trust the Fleet, "Since when is anyone in the Fleet dangerous? Aside from those Specialist guys, of course." If the label could be applied to anyone in the Fleet, it was definitely the riffraff that belonged to the Specialist Corps. That included Autry's roommate, Caleb Manchester, and Dr. M. But even Autry had to begrudgingly admit that thanks to the Fleet the individuals assigned to the Specialist Corps were of no threat to him or anyone else, barring unforeseeable accidents.

Autry could not comment on Beckham; he had never actually met the doctor, though of course he knew of Beckham's reputation. His assigned doctor was Annabelle Castle.

"Weird," was all Autry said and finished off the piece of tomato. Swallowing, he mused, "I don't suppose these Gaians know how good they've got it in that respect, or how bad. There's no universal health care here, no free manufacturing services, no guarantee of security." When he said it that way, the Fleet sounded almost appealing. He was quick to play devil's advocate. "On the other hand, no one looking out for your health or property or security. You're free to kill or be killed as you want." Autry's smile clearly showed his preference for such a life.