Post by Vincent on Jun 15, 2007 3:04:33 GMT -5
The crew congregates in the galley, Rafee in the kitchen mixing up another goulash. Miguel places out the silverware, plates, and glasses, lastly putting a full decanter in the center.
The crew stand by their seats as Vincent walks on deck, they wait for him to sit first then take their own seats. Vincent is seated at the head of the table, the rest line the sides as Rafee places a tray of goulash down in the center. He then takes his own seat, pouring himself some liquor from the decanter before passing it around the table.
The room stays somberly quiet as they eat, the only sound is the scraping of cutlery against china and the bang of glasses hitting the table.
Finally, Tresk speaks up.
"Captain, if I may."
"Go ahead, Tresk, what is it?" Vincent replies back, an almost sharp bark in his voice.
"When do we... you know, go after Loci again?"
Vincent picks up his glass and swirls the liquid around. "When Infinity returns." He takes a sip.
"Oh..." Tresk returns to eating, staring down at his plate.
"I can't take this anymore!" Miguel yells out, banging his plate down. "This is too damn quiet! Put some music on for the love of gods and all that is holy!"
Vincent abruptly stands up, knocking his chair quickly away from the table. "Miguel! Another outburst like that and you can eat in your quarters."
Miguel eyes Vincent with daggers, then in defiance, knocks over his plate to the deck and storms out of the galley. Vincent watches him leave, his eyes narrowed.
"Capitan?" Nahla asks. "Should..."
"Let him go." Vincent interrupts. "He has been on edge lately, I noticed it when he was in my quarters earlier. This situation has gotten to him more then I would of expected." Vincent sits back down. "This whole thing has got us irritable, though, someone please put on some classical. Relieve some of the tension in here at least."
Rafee stands up, walking over to a panel on the bulkhead, fiddles with a few knobs then the room erupts with some mellow instrumental ensembles.
"Much better." Mutters Vincent as he takes a bite of the goulash.
The rest of the dinner continues on like this, in an awkward silence. Outside the portholes, the atmosphere wasn't much different. As night set over the land, so does it appear that the world now looked entirely dead.
Elsewhere, inside his cabin, Miguel lays in his hammock, staring out at this desolate world. His gaze is fixated and intense, never diverting from the world beyond the glass. His tail hanging loosely out of the hammock, softly sweeping the deck, as he begins to hum to himself with a slow mellow tone before breaking into a soft song.
"Wrap me up in my old oilskins and jumpers, no more on the docks I'll be seen, just tell me old shipmates I'm taking a trip, mates, and I'll see you someday in Fiddler's Green."
As he sings, his hand slowly reaches under his jerkin and pulls out a pistol. He rests it on his belly, his long white fur hiding it well.
"Just tell me old shipmates I'm taking a trip, mates, I'll see you some day in Fiddler's Green."
The crew stand by their seats as Vincent walks on deck, they wait for him to sit first then take their own seats. Vincent is seated at the head of the table, the rest line the sides as Rafee places a tray of goulash down in the center. He then takes his own seat, pouring himself some liquor from the decanter before passing it around the table.
The room stays somberly quiet as they eat, the only sound is the scraping of cutlery against china and the bang of glasses hitting the table.
Finally, Tresk speaks up.
"Captain, if I may."
"Go ahead, Tresk, what is it?" Vincent replies back, an almost sharp bark in his voice.
"When do we... you know, go after Loci again?"
Vincent picks up his glass and swirls the liquid around. "When Infinity returns." He takes a sip.
"Oh..." Tresk returns to eating, staring down at his plate.
"I can't take this anymore!" Miguel yells out, banging his plate down. "This is too damn quiet! Put some music on for the love of gods and all that is holy!"
Vincent abruptly stands up, knocking his chair quickly away from the table. "Miguel! Another outburst like that and you can eat in your quarters."
Miguel eyes Vincent with daggers, then in defiance, knocks over his plate to the deck and storms out of the galley. Vincent watches him leave, his eyes narrowed.
"Capitan?" Nahla asks. "Should..."
"Let him go." Vincent interrupts. "He has been on edge lately, I noticed it when he was in my quarters earlier. This situation has gotten to him more then I would of expected." Vincent sits back down. "This whole thing has got us irritable, though, someone please put on some classical. Relieve some of the tension in here at least."
Rafee stands up, walking over to a panel on the bulkhead, fiddles with a few knobs then the room erupts with some mellow instrumental ensembles.
"Much better." Mutters Vincent as he takes a bite of the goulash.
The rest of the dinner continues on like this, in an awkward silence. Outside the portholes, the atmosphere wasn't much different. As night set over the land, so does it appear that the world now looked entirely dead.
Elsewhere, inside his cabin, Miguel lays in his hammock, staring out at this desolate world. His gaze is fixated and intense, never diverting from the world beyond the glass. His tail hanging loosely out of the hammock, softly sweeping the deck, as he begins to hum to himself with a slow mellow tone before breaking into a soft song.
"Wrap me up in my old oilskins and jumpers, no more on the docks I'll be seen, just tell me old shipmates I'm taking a trip, mates, and I'll see you someday in Fiddler's Green."
As he sings, his hand slowly reaches under his jerkin and pulls out a pistol. He rests it on his belly, his long white fur hiding it well.
"Just tell me old shipmates I'm taking a trip, mates, I'll see you some day in Fiddler's Green."