A Fresh Start (Open!)

A Fresh Start

Players: Kajouka, Tambourine
Genre: Cowboy Bebop, sci-fi-ish
Rating: PG
Is this RP open or closed?: Open, but you must SIGN UP!
Notes: nope, let's have fun!


The bar was only moderately busy. Faye’s boots clunked on the wooden floor, heavy, sad. She and Jet had been stuck in the wastelands of Mars for two weeks while he repaired their zip crafts and Faye was finally glad to be free of that dump of a fishing boat. Not that she wouldn’t go back. The Bebop was the home she had to return to, although it seemed like a very lonely home with only herself and Jet. Spike had never returned, and while news was slow and scarce, they had received transmissions about the attack on the Red Dragon Syndicate. The details came in waves, sometimes many, sometimes few, but over the two weeks one fact had been painfully clear: Spike Spiegal had died. Reaction to what he had done were mixed: some praised him for toppling the powerhouse of the Red Dragon, others claimed it didn’t matter. Some other syndicate would rise up and take their place.

Faye agreed with the latter assessment. She told herself she hated Spike for wasting his life to kill men who didn’t matter, to destroy an enemy who would hunt him but whom they could elude. When Julia died, he should have left with them, instead of taking off on his suicide mission.

Yes, she hated him for destroying what was left of their little crew. Jet refused to speak about it, no matter that Faye tried, and he buried his head in the sand by working on the Bebop day and night. The only question Faye had left was if he still cared enough about her to come chasing after her tonight. She hadn’t even stolen any cash this time (but then, they had none!)

She sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, hoping that when it came time to pay someone would find her attractive and pick up the tab. she needed a job, a bounty, or some luck at the local track. But to gamble she’d need money to start and money meant a job. And she’d learned over the last year that hunting bounties with a crew was easier than going solo.

“I wish he was still here,†she muttered as she lifted the glass of beer. Hate him or not, one thing was certain. She missed Spike.

(Hey, I have a note…’I AM SUPER PSYCHED!’ That is all. :D)

One would think that a guy like Dirk would get tired of keeping an eye on his fool of a friend all night, but so far he seems to have maintained the same air of cool that usually surrounds the tall guy. At least one could only assume that his innards are as calm as his outers; yet he never gives any hint that they are not in sync. He sits at the table he had picked out for them, somewhere low key where he was hoping to keep on the down low (wishful thinking), watching the goings on like mother bear keep an eye on the surroundings just in case danger happens to show up.

Though, right now, not for the first time, he is wondering whether or not Blue really needs looking after or if it is his own personal need to be needed that has him clinging like this to his friend’s late night party hours. It feels like forever since the gang was all together, Blue was younger then (hell, they were all a lot younger) and Dirk knows this kid is no kid anymore; he can handle himself, right? Nevertheless, playing nanny for a group of people who were often too busy to take care of themselves had always seemed like his purpose and it is hard to give that up. Maybe his companion does not need a guardian anymore, but the connection hasn’t been severed yet and the mechanic does not want to leave until he is sure his job is done.

Blue, on the other hand, is completely oblivious of his friend’s inner turmoil as he sits at a card table playing poker with three old guys who keep going on about the old days, staring hard at his cards as he wills them to turn into better ones. He is not sure he can understand anything they are talking about, but he knows he is not doing well. Okay, so cards are not his thing. His thing is telling stupid jokes, doing stupid stunts, and flirting with pretty ladies (his record is three minutes without getting slapped; guess he does not have much luck with that either). His brow furrows and he looks up, saying, “Uh...go fish? I’m just kidding! Heh…heh…” He chuckles nervously, a stupid grin on his face.

Besides this momentary uncertainty about a game of cards, the young man has exuded a cheer in the past two weeks that he has not felt in a long time and, including now, it has no reached much farther than the surface of his being. All this time it has felt like he is just going through the motions, keeping up the façade that he has not changed and that he is the same fun-loving guy that he has always been. If the people he hangs with knew that he wasn’t himself, if he wasn’t fun, then they might start figuring things out and their opinion would change. Sure, they all think he is an immature freeloader, but he prefers that to what he is now. Dirk is the only one from the old gang that he has been in contact with for the past couple years and he does not have many other true friends to speak of; so he cannot afford to lose this one.

He glances over at his friend sitting all by himself and then around the bar thoughtfully while the game goes around the table. Just then his eyes fall on the good-looking woman taking a seat at the bar and ordering herself a drink. That’s what Dirk needs, Blue thinks to himself, as his fingers press the fan of his cards together into a stack and a devious grin spreads over his face. He tries to control the expression as he sits up straight and waves his hand, calling loudly. “Hey, Dirk! Get me a drink, would you?!” With any luck, he would be stopped by a conversation with the lady and that bored expression would be wiped off his face.

What does it mean when Dirk’s first instinctive thought when he hears his name called is that Blue had gotten himself into some sort of trouble that he needed someone to get him out of? Really, how much trouble can he get himself into playing cards with a few older gentleman? It is best not to voice these things outloud when they have a habit of working themselves out. He almost rolls his eyes at the lazy request, but reasons his friend out of the blame zone as per usual; he can’t exactly get up and leave a game, can he? That would be rude So he gives a nod and gets up, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn before striking out towards the bar, smiling pleasantly when he stops to leave the waitress go by.

He work boots clomp on the floor loudly as he takes his long strides, heralding him before he slips up next to Faye to lean on the counter and wait for the bartender to notice him from the other end. In the meantime, he drums his fingers lightly and whistles a few notes as he gazes around. His eyes finally fall on the woman sitting beside him and at this angle he can’t help but notice that she looks kind of down in the dumps. He leans forward and tilts his head to try to get a better view, not wanting to just assume and hoping he does not come off as some creepy guy in a bar. “Drowning your sorrows? You know, ‘people who drink to drown their sorrow should be told that sorrow knows how to swim’. Or so I’ve heard.”

(Ann Landers quote right there. Needed something good for him to say. I was going to go with something more exciting, but...I did not! I didn’t wanna seem cliché or corny. :D Not right away anyway.)

(woot woot!)


Faye glanced over to where the group of men were playing cards. Damn everyone and everything that she was broke. She would have loved to join them, to toss a few coins out on the table and distract them all with her chest while she bluffed them out of her coin. If there was anything in the world she couldn’t resist it was gambling. It was an addiction like none other, one that sucked every woolong straight from her pockets and into the hands of other people... or the casino coffers.

But alas, she had no money, not even a few woolongs on her card to pay for the drink she was now sipping on. She wondered if she could gamble something else, and then, glancing down at her chest decided against that. If there was one thing Faye was not, it was loose. Men could suck it if they even thought about that!

And then there was one of them, leaning over the bar. Faye laughed light, “If that’s your pick up line, you’ve got a lot to learn. Do I look like I’m drowning? Maybe you should find a way to make my life less sad than.” You could start by paying for my drink..

She tilted her body, knowing she could use it if she needed. “You over there gambling?” she asked, nodding towards the game. She wanted to play, oh yes, she did. Why was it no matter where she went, when she no money, there was the game right in front of her, taunting her, teasing her, laughing at her predicament.

“What are they playing?”

Dirk looks taken aback by her reply, even a little confused before he takes a moment to think about it. “Pick…up…? Oh!” It had not been his initial intention, to be honest, but he goes along with it just because it’s more interesting than what was going back at the table. “Much more original than ‘haven’t I seen you before’ or ‘what’s your sign’, isn’t it? It should be encouraging that I put forth the effort to say something more intelligent than that.” He chuckles lightly, smiling sincerely and forgetting that he was actually up here on an ‘errand’. “Well, maybe I’ll give that a shot, if you have the time for me to think about it here for a bit.” He usually does not do much flirting, but he’ll give it his best shot when a moment presents the opportunity.

She motions towards the game going on across the semi-crowded room, unable to keep the grin off his face at the sight of Blue hunkered over his cards like he could concentrate on them enough for their faces to change. “No, not me. I work too hard for my money to let someone else take it, but Blue over there doesn’t mind spending it for me.” Dirk knows that, for sure, he is going to have to bail his buddy out of some debt at the end of the night. He should be more irritated over it than he is, but he isn’t going to start being bothered now. He looks back over at her then, trying hard not to look down at her chest conspicuously angled to catch the eye; he likes to think he is more of a gentleman than that, but it’s kind of hard to resist when it would draw anyone like a moth to a flame. “Poker, is what it looks like.”

The bartender moves down to them from the drinkers at the other end of the bar and asks Dirk what he’s getting. “Same as before...I’ll take care of them and the lady’s before I leave.” The man nods and fills the order, setting it beside the patron’s hand where he picks it up by the handle and simultaneously reaches to take Faye’s drink as well. “Come on, then, you want to play don’t you? I’ll make ‘porcupine’ make room for you there.” And the blue-haired spike boy (er...not boy...whatever) will behave himself if he knows what is good for him. If Faye wants her drink bad enough she’d have to follow it.

(Hope you don’t mind the liberties. If you do, let me know and I will edit. I wasn’t sure where to leave it so cut my reply short. If you need me to ADD then I will do that too.)

“Original,” Faye responded, her lips curling into half a smirk, “But not inspiring. If I’m truly drowning in sorrows, I doubt that pointing it out will suddenly make me feel better.” She toyed with her glass as she tilted her face slightly towards Dirk, taking in his height, even as he was leaning on the bar. Tall. Like spike. She liked that about him immediately, even if she didn’t admit to herself why. His hair was opposite color of Spike’s and he was far more tanned and....

Faye blinked. She wasn’t here to think about Spike, she was here to drown away her sorrows in beer and maybe down the road a little poker. If she could get mr. white hair to give her a few woolongs. She shifted again, only slightly, so that he would have a better view if he wished. Yeah, she hated that, but she needed money and such tricks had always worked in the past. Faye Valentine, the con artist.

“I’ve got nothing but time. No where to go, nothing to do. Take all the time you need, but don’t expect your line to get you anywhere. I’m worth than a few words you know. Do you have a cigarette by the way?” She ached for one of those. She and Jet had run out two days ago and her body hated her right now. She could use a smoke (or ten) to calm herself back down, and she still had the matter of the beer that she couldn’t pay for. “Gambling is fun, you know, and sometimes you don’t lose your money, you win it. I happen to be quite good, actually.” Half the time anyway. Only when Lady Luck was smiling. The rest of the time she lost her money the same way Blue was probably doing right now. Blue. She knew his friend’s name anyway.

She paused waiting as the bartender took and filled the order. She sighed softly, relieved she wouldn’t have to rush out with her bill unpaid. Lifting her beer and she smiled, and the shrugged, “I want to play, yes, but I have nothing to gamble.” Oh, how she wanted to play. “And I wouldn’t want to lose more of your money than Blue already does.”

(I thought it would be easier to distinguish between Blue and Dirk's dialogue if I put Blue's in...well...blue! Hopefully it'll help clear up any confusion.)


The problem is, he does not exactly wish to look down the woman’s shirt. Okay, so part of him does, but she would for sure notice and then he would look like he is just any other guy trying to hit on her. And, just to clarify, he never intended to sound the way he did. Yet, that’s where not thinking things entirely through before speaking gets you. Not that she is not good looking enough for him to be interested because she is definitely attractive and he… Anyway! Besides the fact that he would be completely embarrassed if he were caught in the act of doing any amount of leering, it just would not be very gallant of him and he takes pride in the fact that he is kind of, in a way, the gentleman sort (he supposes he could consider himself something along those lines).

’I’m worth more than a few words you know.’ At that, believing in that statement absolutely, he smiles and nods his head, shrugging down a little more over the counter. “I never said you weren’t and I’m sorry if anything I said came off that way. But...I did have to get you to talk to me somehow; that much worked.” There are lots of people out there today that Dirk is sure do not get the credit that they deserve. He would not be one of the ignorant ones who shortchange them, at least not on purpose for he is not exactly eloquent with his words and when he tries it tends to flop real bad.

When she asks for a cigarette he instinctively reaches for his pocket only to pause halfway through when he realizes the truth; he quit that habit already. He brings his hand back to the counter and shakes his head, looking regretful. “Nah...sorry, gave that up two months ago. I can get you one in a bit.” He glances across the room at Blue, knowing he has one or two packs on his person right now that he will just steal once he gets in arms reach. What is his friend going to do, argue about it? Not a battle his spikey friend would win, the tall guy can guarantee that much; the thought of which brings a grin to his face that he tries to quickly squash.

So...she’s a smoker and a gambler. This girl is starting to be bad for him already, he thinks to himself, more than a little amused by it. “It’s fun alright, maybe too fun.” He says it with a laugh, a hint of embarrassment on his face. “Another habit that is better if I don’t pick up again, but you’re starting to make me feel boring.” It’s half tease and half true, really, but smoking is one thing and gambling is another for him; not a road he really should turn down again but is more tempting than the death-sticks he had been hooked on, no doubt. Yet, here she is, bringing to the fore all his detrimental inclinations, and he is finding he really does not mind at all.

With drinks in hand, he steps away from the bar as if luring her to do so also, assuring, “Well...you said you were good at it didn’t you? Then I should have nothing to worry about. I’m cheering you up, remember?” He gives a wink and then a motion for her to follow him to the card table, very pleasantly aware of her presence behind him. Once he sets his friend’s drink down, he easily shoves him over far enough to make room for another chair. “Move it, Blue, make room,” he grunts, adding with a mutter, “You’re getting fat...you need to stop loafing around and drinking beer.” He doesn’t miss Blue’s disgruntled look that he tried to hide behind his cards.

His head jerks up then and he tries to hide his cards against his chest like some secret love letter as he stares up at the two with open surprise. “Hey, wait! You actually talked to her?! And she didn’t ignore you?! Special girl...” He snickers a little bit and Dirk scowls a bit as he snags a chair from an adjacent table, spinning it around to face inward and stepping to the side to give Faye room to sit while he pushes it in for her. “She’d have smacked you...” he says, matter of factly, sounding too certain of it to be joking. “Low blow... So, introductions?”

Dirk smacks himself in the forehead. “Duh!” He knew he was forgetting something, but he didn’t think it was something as crucial as names. “I’m Dirk, by the way...” and he adds quickly, “and we call this one Blue.” Who he had already mentioned already through conversation, he muses to himself, feeling rather sheepish for such an oversight of common, basic etiquette. Blue just smirks and offers her a greeting nod. “He doesn’t get out much, sorry.” This time Dirk cannot help himself; his hand flies on his own and smacks his friend upside the head, who frees one hand to rub the spot ruefully. “Keep that trap shut for once, would you?”

Faye watched his expressions shifting. She was also impressed that he had tried so hard not to look at her chest. Most men couldn’t resist, and while her looks were a tool she used when needed, today she wasn’t up to that task. Faye actually did appreciate how gentlemanly he was trying to be. So few men tried. And most who did failed anyway. She’d give this one some credit. He deserved it. And that was so rare from her as well. Had regaining her memories changed her that much?

The girl you used to be would have been so happy to talk to him.

“No need to apologize,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Trust me, you could. Have said much worse. I’m not offended. No point in that.” Not when the man she’d spent a year loving and hating had just gone off and died. Faye didn’t have the energy to be her normal wonderful lady of a self.

“I wish I could kick it she,” she muttered, nodding at his reply. But she wouldn’t. She was far too addicted, and smoking was one of the few connections she had with Spike. The fond members involved sitting together with a cigarette in silence. (Because the moment one of them opened their mouths to speak, the peace was broken). She raised an eyebrow and laughed lightly. “So you don’t gamble or smoke anymore. What do you do?” Drink, apparently, as she looked at the glass in hand. She picked up her own to follow him, moving with the same sleek grace she’d always had. Even the sadness that weighed on her could not change her stride, and she was approaching a table of gamblers. That mean putting her pain on the back burner and slapping on her poker face.

Faye waited as the two men interacted and then took the seat she’d been offered. She set down her drink, her eyes taking in each of the men, before turning back to Dirk and Blue. “I’m Faye. Faye Valentine. What are you dealing, Blue?”

When his eyes follow the dismissive wave of her hand the action is unconscious but he takes the moment to notice the delicate details of her hand: the softness of her palm, the gentle hills of her knuckles and the elegant slenderness of her fingers down to the tip of well-manicured nails. It’s not hard to see by the smallest glance that she could probably have any guy she wanted wrapped around that little pinky of hers. It makes him wonder why she is here, what could possibly bring a girl like her into a place like this? And all alone? He knows it is not his place, so he tries not to foster any feeling of responsibility and protectiveness. It’s not his place... “That is kind of you,” he replies, recovering from his thoughts without missing a beat.

“If you have a reason to quit it’s probably easier.” And he had his reasons at the time; one of them being the extra expense when he was struggling financially. Beverages in hand, he waits for her to have hers ready before he makes to cross the floor. He grins back over his shoulder at her inquiry. “I’m a mechanic, by trade and hobby. Cars are okay, but not very exciting. I prefer zip crafts, that kind of thing. You get lots of practice when your friends mess theirs up doing stupid things for an extra buck.” He opens his arms a little and shrugs his shoulders disarmingly, trying to look indifferent. “I’m not as boring as I first seem to be, or I would like to think so anyway.” At that point they reach the table.

His steps are long and heavy, but behind him her movements were smooth and fluid, almost effortless. It makes him all the more nervous, suddenly very much aware of that wrinkle in his shirt or the crudeness of his work boots (or the jerk companion sitting at the table who will surely say something incredibly stupid). He distracts himself by pushing in Faye’s chair and stealing Blue’s cigarette’s and lighter out of the younger man’s pockret; while the blue-haired varmint objects half-heartedly. Dirk pats the pack against his hand absent-mindedly as Faye introduces herself. “Pretty name,” he muses the compliment quietly as if it were partially a thought to himself. Her name suits her, he thinks, somehow.

Blue grins cheekily at her, then watches to see where his precious cigarettes are going when Dirk pulls one out to hand to Faye and lights it up for her with the cheap, convenient store lighter. “Texas Hold’em. You know how to play, little lady?” his flirts (or attempts) shamelessly as he folds his cards in his hands. The taller of the two rests his hand on the back of Faye’s chair and leans slightly on it, shaking his head. “Do you, Blue? Don’t underestimate a woman’s intuition.” He passes her a knowing grin and a confident, secret wink. It would do Blue a world of good to get his butt whooped by a girl.

He is a little too confident for his own good, which has been a big factor in a lot of the trouble that he has gotten himself into in the past. He should know better than to judge a book by its cover, but he has never really cared much for reading and getting to know people is such a time-consuming challenge for someone who prefers immediate results. He also does not seem one to take the advice and subtle hints from his companion, which could save him a lot of embarrassment. Blue is just the kind who always has to learn the hard way and this time will be no different.

At that she raised an eyebrow. Jet was an extremely good mechanic. He’d done well for them over the years. But the Bebop was clearly become more and more unstable and they had their share of mishaps that tore up their zips from time to time, considering how many bounties went awry. Would they even still bounty hunt? Faye wasn’t sure, but they had to make money somehow and frankly that was all she was good at these days.

What was she thinking? She’d just met this guy and here she was already wondering about the future? She wasn’t here to start the future, only forget the past, but then, the future was looming and Spike would never be part of it again. Ever. Just her and Jet and whatever the skies held for them. But the pair of them needed help and they both knew it. Jet and Spike had been fine together for three years, but Faye and Jet alone? Faye shook her head and took a long drag on her cigarette. “Well, I have enough reasons to quit myself, but I won’t. I can’t. And I’m not sure that deep down I really want to bother. Something has to kill us right? Might as well enjoy our vices while we can.”

Faye shot a nasty glance at Blue. “I think I know that one, but call me Faye. I’m not a lady and never will be.” He should only have to look at her to know that! Dressed in hot pants and a top that made her chest size more than obvious to every man sitting at the table should have been enough, but top that off with her sly smile and the cigarette streaming smoke across the table and the picture was clear. Maybe he was being polite, but when had men ever been polite to Faye Valentine before? Not since one conned her and broke her heart, teaching her that polite men were not to be trusted. At least you knew who the jerks were.

“Deal them out,” she laughed then, her eyes meeting each man at the table, sizing them up and yet letting them think she was just there for a laugh. “I get two cards right?” she asked, playing half dumb. Let these brutes think they could take advantage of her at the table. If she played her cards right, both she and Dirk would be eating something tasty tonight.

Dirk couldn’t help but to grin at her choice of words; he thinks he thought the same thing once upon a time. That statement, ‘once upon a time’, makes him feel old, but maybe he is getting there with thirty just around the corner to snap him up. He isn’t getting any younger and he is more like in the air with his feet running but his body not getting anywhere. Once upon a time, though (and there’s that saying again), he was just as crazy as the rest of them even if he didn’t show it. He took risks that would have some of the braver ones writhing in the pains of heart attacks. Maybe it’s age that’s wearied his courage because it sure isn’t wisdom doing it to him. “You have a point there. Live a little I guess while you have a life to live.”

Blue looks at him with an arched brow and picks one of his cigarettes from his spare pack, snatching his lighter from Dirk’s hand to set it alight. “You’ve gotten awfully pessimistic all of a sudden,” he observes with a frown. “You’re dampening my mood, dude, so lighten up and get that pensive look of your face.” His gaze flickers from the table up to his friend, waiting for a reaction. Dirk just looks surprised, apparently oblivious to the fact that his expression had gone sullen for just that moment, long enough for his perky friend to notice. The man’s wide grin returns and he sticks his tongue out at Blue. “So, I should be more like you? Fat chance.”

The porcupine blanches a little in surprise at the look on Faye’s face when she looks at him in response to ‘little lady’. He was only trying to be friendly in his own way, but apparently she took it the wrong way. “Faye it is then! And two cards for you!” He deals her the cards and Dirk grins, knowing that his companion is falling into the trap that the woman is setting for him. Blue is good at what he does when he’s on the job, but he is pretty lax on his observances when he is in a more laid back setting such as this. Can’t blame a guy for just wanting to have fun and enjoy himself during a game, but he should do it on someone else’s dime. “Now! What happens is...!”

(I thought maybe we could sort of do a flash forward, considering I have no clue what I’m talking about as far as cards? >_> If this is not okay with you then I’ll edit if you want and do my best. )

Faye picked up her cards. They were actually good, which almost surprised her. Poker was more about skill than luck, but perhaps with her new friends this was her lucky day. She eyed the men across the table, and looked back at her cards, as though she were trying to judge if she should stay in. The bet passed around the table and she hesitated, and then finally picked up her chips and tossed them in. “Call.”

The men were grinning. “Glad to see you’re playing, lady. I wouldn’t want to have scared you off.”

Faye shrugged, “I can’t get better if I don’t try!” The cards were dealt then, the bet passed around the table, and then then it was time for the cards to come out. Faye slowly lowered hers and smiled, “I think that’s a full house!” She pulled the money again, “Again?”

Then others grumbled a bit at her luck, and then another few rounds passed. Faye folded on some, played on others, won quite a few until finally it was clear to the others that she was actually fairly skilled at the game. Two rounds later she took out two of the players on a head-to-head all in. The last man looked at his watch and decided it was time to jet. Faye glanced at Blue, who was the only other player still in.

“Somewhat silly to use your friend’s money to take yours. Call it done?” She waved Dirk over to sit in the vacant chair next to her and gestured to the pile. “How did I do for you?”

Dirk watches the game, most of the time leaning on the back of Faye’s chair and observing from over her slim shoulder with keen interest. It does not really take Blue that long to realize that he may have been duped and that this woman knows her way around a deck of fifty-two better than she was letting on. It does not deter him from trying and he looks like he might have started to concentrate a little more, even, but the efforts are in vain as she continues to pretty much rule the table. His companion finds this amusing the whole way through the came as if he had known this all along.

The two men observe the other players dropping out fairly quickly and Blue grins at her when she utters an observation of her own. “Well, I may not be a humble man, but I know when to beat a hasty retreat.” He says it with a laugh, proving that there are no hard feelings involved in his loss in the least bit (not that he had anything to lose but his pride, anyway). As Faye changes her direction of conversation to Dirk, Blue sets his mind on gathering the deck up into a neat pile.

In the meantime, the tall guy moves to take the recently vacated chair Faye gestures too, leaning forward to set his empty beer down and wiping the condensation from the mug on the leg of his jeans. He grins from ear to ear at her and nods his head. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were good at it, that’s for sure.” He laughs when Blue shoots him a look and starts muttering, ‘I knew it, I knew it, damn traitor, I knew it’ over there as he flicks his lighter on and off. “We should celebrate the success of this partnership, don’t you think?” Whatever troubles he had previously on his mind are momentarily forgotten.

Blue drains the rest of his beer and sets the empty glass down loudly. He stands, the legs of the chair screeching a little bit on the floor, and he stumbles to the side as his alcohol lands a blow to his balance before he rights himself. “I wouldn’t be seen with you two’s type. You know...the conniving behind a guy’s back and ganging up on him type.” Fingers tense and curled as if holding a round object, he brings them towards each other at the latter part of that sentence as if illustrating an attack from both sides. “And here I thought we could be friends. I hope you and your girlfriend will be very happy together.” He sounds serious, but his joviality is hard to hide completely as it is more than obvious he is trying to hide a smile.

His companion shakes his head and leans his chin in his palm. “Oh...you’ll be back. I’m not worried.” He grins a little bit. “You’d rather go fly Ethelwolf, anyway. Don’t shoot your foot off…you got damn close last time.” Blue wrinkles his nose and waves his hand. “Bah! I haven’t drank that much, mind your own business. I’ll see you later, pretty lady...er…Faye!” He makes a motion as if tipping an invisible hat and then gives Dirk an exaggerated wink (followed by a nod towards Faye) that he does not even bother to hide. (The white-haired man blushes and hides his face in his hand for a moment, promising to punch his friend the next time he sees him.)

Dirk peeks through splayed fingers when Blue walks away whistling loudly, shaking his head. “Sorry if he offended you at anytime. He’s not that bad of a guy, just, wellll…an idiot.” He grins at that and takes his face out of his hand, cheeks still a little red. “So, how about it; a celebration or something? What should we do with our extra pocket change?”

Faye watched the exchange the two made silently, using the moment to observe their behavior, how they spoke to each other and interacted. No matter that Blue tried to chide her taking his money, she could tell he didn’t much care, especially because she had teamed up with the other, Dirk. Yes, she realized, he cares for this one. That wasn’t a bad thing. She cared for her shipmates too. She knew that now more than when she’d had them all around her. Now she had only Jet. At least she knew Ed and Ein were out there somewhere on Earth, finding the place they belonged. All Faye had left was a busted down ship and a sullen shipmate.

Still, at least now she could get off the rusty boat. Before, when her own zip had been broken, all she had was Jet. Now at least she was having a little fun. She waited as Blue completely left before turning her smile full on to Dirk.

“Oh that’s easy,” Faye replied with a little laugh. Her stomach was already rumbling at the thought of food. “Something to eat!” How long had it been since she’d had something other than a few peppers? She had Jet had scrounged the whole ship after the last of them had run out. They had found a few candy bars, old but edible, and a some noodles that looked like they’d seen better days. Otherwise, they’d been hungry. And now that the promise of something to eat lurked just around the corner, the hunger that had gnawed at her bones all week was returning full force.

“I’m staving!” She batted her eyes lightly, mostly in jest. Dirk seemed full of humor and she needed that for the moment. Anything other than the somber aura that had been the last few weeks. “Treat me to a meal?”

The residue of Blue’s antics quickly fade as the two become too much involved in their own conversation to worry about the spikey haired clown; especially when talk switches to that of food. Dirk isn’t a culinary artist, has never claimed to be, but he still holds to the belief that he learned from the best (mom) and has put what he has learned to good use over the years by feeding a crew of hungry soldiers and hunters. Yet, when it comes to actually dining out, the man is a complete failure. Something that most people would find easy and convenient ends to the problem of foraging for sustenance has always seemed like such a waste when he could probably make the same thing for so much cheaper. His friends always called him a spoil sport and a homebody; and they were probably right almost every time.

“Sure! I think I know a place you would like.” And yet he is agreeing, and vowing to have fun, just because he promised to make a certain stranger smile tonight. It is a noble effort definitely not out of character for the tall man. “And it’s not too far from here. We could walk if you’re feeling energetic.” He chuckles in good-humor when he hears Faye’s stomach rumble, but tries to stifle it lest he offend or embarrass his companion; that would not be very nice, would it?

A couple blocks down is a little restaurant someone thought to squeeze in between two buildings, giving it the amusing appearance of a little guy compacted by two larger on either side of him. The two front windows are like twin yellow eyes with eyebrows of arched words across the top of their panes: food, drink, and music. The door is wedged open and from it, as if it were its mouth, pours forth the sounds of music and chatter. The restaurant’s name blazes through the now dark hours of the night in various neon colors that looked like they had been haphazardly thrown together: Bamboozled.

Dirk turns to look at Faye before they enter, smiling sheepishly. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but they have good food.” At least food is good enough that he cannot complain much about it. Him and his friends, when they went out to it, usually finally agreed upon this place because they knew Dirk would less likely nit-pick about the taste and quality of the meals. If it can please him, then it’s a good place. “If you’re not happy we can find somewhere else,” he assures as he steps aside to allow Faye to enter first, since he cannot hold the door open for her.

Jack Luciter, former hitman and enforcer, carefully moved down the street. His black dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and that red tie was loosened from it's hold around his throat. In his lips the remnants of a cigarette, all but gone now. He took the finished cancer stick from his mouth and flicked it under his path, turning his foot on it as he passed by. He wore a black coat over him, hiding the two .45 pistols that hung on each shoulder. He peered out over the world with intense, calculating blue eyes that hid a quick wit and a even quicker temper. His hand would move up to shove the graying black hair on his head back into a more presentable place, as his feet carried him swiftly towards the nearest bar. He had a small gash on his cheek, and it was already starting to bruise. The man that had given him that wound was lying in a gutter somewhere, bleeding out. Before he'd lost conciousness, Jack's foe had given him one more piece of information that would lead Jack closer to taking down the men whom not only double crossed him, but also killed his father.

His eyes looked up as the spikey haired man stumbled - if only ever so slightly - out of the bar's front entrance. Those eyes would then flick to the side to notice the group of teenage hoodlums that were assembled nearby. Said hoodlums eyed the man with malice and intent. "HEY! Old man!" one of the gang called out. "Yeah you, with the spikey hair." The same voice crowed. Jack sized up the intended target of the gang. He looked like he was quite capable, even inebriated. But if there was one thing Jack couldn't stand, it was an unfair fight. And seven on one seemed a bit unfair. So, Jack sped up his pace, right hand slowly moving into his jacket for a moment. When it returned to the light, a pair of brass knuckles caught the light, sparkling ever so slightly. Already the group was encircling the spikey haired man, like a pack of wolves. Jack wasn't worried the man would be harmed, he was only concerned that he wouldn't arrive in time to get a few blows in on the little punks.


((Note: If any of this doesn't jive with what you had in mind, Tambourine, just let me know. I tried to leave it well open for you to move around in with Blue.))

(Please duly, and kindly, note that I have no knowledge of fighting. All I know is from what I’ve read or things I’ve picked up from movies or whatever. So, not everything I write in these regards are realistic and maybe not easy to understand? But I try. <_<)

“Well, what am I going to do now?” he asks himself with a sigh of boredom as he pushes the bar door open and shuffles out, one hand leisurely shoved into the front pocket of his faded blue jeans. He steps forward and stumbles down the only step leading up to the front door of the business. “Whoa! Who put that step there!” he exclaims with slurred surprise as his trip leads into a hundred eighty degree spin and two scuffling, veering steps backwards. He stares at the step for a moment as if doing so much help him decipher the meaning of the universe, or at least the devil who installed the single stair while he was inside drinking, gambling, and being merry (before his friend hooked up with some hot chick and ditched him).

He points at the said step of aged, chipping cement and opens his mouth as if to accuse it of some diabolical deed when a couple of voices catch his attention and he looks up dumbly. He looks left, then right, then turns a little to look behind him before pointing to himself and looking mighty confused. “Me? Are you talking to me? I’m not ooold! If I’m old…then aren’t you up past your bedtime.” This makes him snicker after having amused himself with his own joke. In the meantime he is enclosed by the ring of little thugs, but there is nothing about the spiked-hair man that seems at all put off by this development.

“Listen fellas,” he says as he cracks his knuckles and neck, “I don’t have any cash or anything of value on me, so this is kind of pointless. I don’t want to have to bust you up, but that’s not my choice, it’s yours.” The leader of the band of misfits just laughs in his face at that, spreading his arms out to indicate his group of cronies. “What you gonna do against all seven of us, old man? Gonna wack us with your cane? You’re too drunk to even stand up straight!” He reaches out to shove Blue in the shoulder as if to prove his point and the man takes one stumble back while his blue eyes show the signs of being set ablaze with his prideful fighting spirit. He plants the foot he staggered back on and, as the teens have their laugh at their boss’s joke, curls his fingers into a white-knuckle fist. They aren’t even paying attention, too comfortable in their perceived superiority, oblivious to how their apparent prey coils like a spring.

Blue lifts his head and smirks at his ‘taunter’ just as the boy (that’s all he is, really) looks his way, saying, “Warned you.” He bounds forward, his uses the energy from the action to combine with his punch to the kid’s gut, doubling him over. His eyes flick to one of his closest opponents as he hears the click of a switchblade and throws out his leg to kick the offender’s hand upward. Grabbing his arm, he gives the wrist a sickening twist and the thug cries out in pain and drops the knife (which Blue kicks into the gutter out of reach the first change he gets).

(If this isn't good for you, Chron, let me know! I tried my best. >_<)

Faye followed him with ease. While her senses were up - experience told her that giving full trust to anyone, man or woman, was an exercise in being used - Dirk had been nothing short of a foolish gentleman. He’d handed her money to play the game with, without ever questioning her integrity. And in the past, she might have made off with as much as she could. She still might do the same, if Dirk proved to be less of a person than she wanted to deal with. But after months of having constant companions, even those she pretended to view with scorn, she missed having someone around. Faye gave a small measure of trust to Dirk, because she realized, she needed something to try to and fill the void that Spike’s absence had left.

And besides, she was starving. Now that food was an option, her stomach was growling so hard she had to fight it not to cry out. The hollow pit that had formed over the last few weeks as she and Jet had picked the Bebop clean, finding what would normally be considered inedible, was consuming her, reminding her that it needed real food now or she might not go much further.

What sense was failing to trust him if she would die of hunger anyway?

“We can walk.” she muttered. She’d walked enough today as it was, with her head up and her shoulders back, refusing to let the pressure of the last few weeks push her down. The one drink she’d had was starting to fuzz her slightly, considering her last of alcohol as well over the last few weeks. How had she and Jet managed without killing each other? she wondered. Then again, she’d needed the man to repair her ship.

They arrived, and she couldn’t care less what type of food they served. “I’m so hungry dirk, I’d eat rat at this point. Feed me anything. I just need to eat.” She hated sounding weak, but it was the truth. She entered, found the first table and half collapsed. “Really, this is going to sound horrible, but order a ton. It’s been a rough few weeks and I could really use something good.” She half smiled. “And if you don’t mind, the extra I’d like to take back to my ship, where a friend as hungry as I awaits.”

Jack's feet carried him towards the nearest thug, who had pulled out a chain at the sight of his comrade loosing his blade. "Bad move." his gravelly voice rumbled from his throat as his hand, clenched in a fist and brass knuckles slid on, impacted the kid's lower abdomen just behind his ribs. There was a crack as the boy's ribs broke and he dropped to the ground with a muffled WHUMPF. This drew off two more attackers from Blue, who turned to size up this new arrival. Jack smirked, and waved for the pair to come get him.

"Gut these fools." Said one of the larger boys, but obviously one of Jack's opponents had already got that idea when they produced a nice sized blade. Jack shifted his weight as the blade came at him. He parried, sending the boys arm and body past him harmlessly. The second of his attackers came at him with a billy club, but was caught by the arm and relieved of his weapon by a swift twist that broke his wrist. The first attacker, still with blade in hand, came back around towards Jack. His target, having knocked the billy club wielding thug out with a knee to the face, turned chuckling.

"You don't learn, do you punk?" That voice thundered from his chest. "Alright, let's do this."

The thug moved at him with a yell, blade looking to slash at Jack's chest. Jack caught him by the throat with his left hand, and with his right he punched swiftly in the boy's stomach. The air left the kid with a slight whoosh and then Jack would bring an elbow to the thug's arm, causing him to drop the knife. Then, he would be shoved back and kicked across the face with a roundhouse which would knock him out cold. Jack turned to those left remaining, who were already loosing their nerve against the pair of Jack and Blue.

(Going to keep up the order I put my characters in the same, if that is okay with everyone.)

There is something about a woman who does not seem all that uncomfortable just up and walking to an unknown destination with a man that she doesn’t know that Dirk is not sure he can place. He watches her out of the corner of his eye as they walk, allowing Faye to set the pace even if that means shortening the length of his longer than average steps. She does not look like the standard frail girl next door (in fact there is nothing like the women he knows around here), but he assesses that he could still overpower her if he meant to do her harm. So that leads him to believe that she is one of two things: either she is more capable than she lets on or she must really be just another silly girl in disguise. He would candidly admit he prefers the former, regardless if that means she is using him or not; that much he is used to anyway.

He laughs and leans over to pass her a grin at eyelevel. “Who said they don’t serve rat here?” he jokes while thrusting his hands into his pockets for something to do with them. There is nothing condescending in his voice, not an inkling of anything on his face that suggests he is lording something over her or thinking himself better than her because of anything she says or does. The man’s face is an open book, honesty and affability written in plain, bold ink. There is nothing he would like more than to have made a new friend tonight, someone he can proudly admit to have helped out when they needed him. “I’m just kidding, of course,” he adds as she walks in.

The music is coming from a jukebox sitting across the room, up on a stage set about ten inches above the main floor where a couple of local patrons are singing uproariously, at the top of their lungs, to the current song. There is a small bar at the back, nothing like the one at the establishment they came from, where the doors of the kitchen are. The rest of the space is full of tables and for being a small place it sure is busy. They are probably lucky to have found an empty table, possibly only recently vacated and cleaned off. Dirk is watching the two pouring out their hearts in song and shakes his head, thumbing in their direction, saying, “It’ll quiet down once those two get lightheaded from singing.”

He blinks when she speaks, his face blanking with his smile slowly returning the more she speaks. He leans his elbows on the table, folding his arms over each other. “Hey, I already planned on ordering a mountain of food, so don’t worry about how it sounds. I can really put it away when I want to, so there is no problem.” He tilts his head a little to get a view of the rest of the restaurant, evidently looking for someone in particular. “As for extras...sure, but wouldn’t your friend rather have something of their own? Leftovers are kinda like dog scraps, aren’t they?” He brushes something off the table absent-mindedly. “Good food shouldn’t be shared.”

A burly man with a big dark mustache comes up behind Dirk then and slaps him on the back hard enough to obviously knock the wind out of him. “Dirk! Long time no see! Did your kitchen burn down so you had to resort to eating at much place, huh, pal?” The man blinks his eyes over the top of his friend’s head then to see Faye. “Oh! I see!” he laughs at the recovering mechanic. Dirk sighs softly and straightens himself up then. “Do you have to do that every time you see me? I need my back to work, you know! And what do you mean, ‘oh! I see!’?” he asks with an arched brow and all the man answers with his a shrugs and a turning down of the corners of his mouth, followed by another laugh. “What can I get you two?”

The man does not even offer the menus that are tucked under his arm and Dirk does not ask for them. “The appetizer platter and the party bowl of house salad to start. Whatever the lady wants to drink and I’ll take my usual. Then, if you like pasta,” he asks Faye across the table before ordering, “that pasta thing with the ricotta cheese and Italian sausage? I think you can get that for two or four, right? Four, we’re hungry. Oh, oh! And an order of bread and then we’ll see after that!” He smirks at the baffled look on the owner’s face before the guy trundles off to give it to his cook.

***

Still unaware of the help that had just arrived, Blue yanks hard on the broken wrist in his grasp and knees the boy in the stomach, bringing his hand down on the back of his neck to stun him. As much fun as he is having, he feels all too aware of their age. Years ago he might have loved to beat them senseless as his misplaced rage was vented on those that could only be considered victims that stumbled mistakenly into his path, but he has matured a little since then. His head spins a little in drunkenness, reminding him only to think of one thing at a time.

He focuses himself just in time to look back and lean to the side to avoid the punch of the lead teen, which coincidentally connects with the light pole, a metallic ring trembling up the stem and causing the boy to grab his hand and cuss. With a sweep of his leg and a little help of a hand shoving down on a shoulder, Blue has the kid on the ground again, laying into him with a kick to the ribs. “Stay there, would you? I’m trying to keep my booze down.” That statement is not entirely untrue as he stomach turns threateningly.

The voices now register in his head and he spins around to check things out, standing still as he watches what could only be described a massacre (a titan against babes, really). Following the display, he steps quietly up behind the remaining pair as they huddle together, trying to psyche themselves up to do something. Before they can rush into anything, Blue’s hands flash out to grab handfuls of their hair to bring their heads crashing together so that they drop like stones. “Told you so…” he says triumphantly, short-lived, before he puts his hand to his mouth. “Oh god...” he mutters and bows forward a little and holds up his index finger on his other hand to signal that he needs a second to compose his stomach.

When it seems safe to assume that the contents of his gut is going to remain where it should be, the pale green color fading from his face and his confident grin returning, he addresses older gentleman. “I probably could have handled it, but the help is much appreciated! Nice work.” There is a moment of pause. “Though I think it was a more a practice of form on these kids.” It had been too easy for either of them, that’s for sure. He lightly taps one in the shoulder with the tip of his sneaker. “Oh well!” he chimes with a shrug,. “I warned them!” He shoves his hand toward Jack with a good amount of force, offering a friendly shake. “Blue is the name!”

Faye’s face crinkled slightly. God help her if they actually served rats. She might have said she’d eat one (and really she probably would), but she didn’t really want to. Rats weren’t the best tasting of meat. She knew. She’d stooped that low in the past when she’d had no money and nothing to eat. Starvation was a common companion of Faye Valentine. Just being in the place with the sight and smell of food – good food – food that didn’t come from a can or consisted only of mushrooms, made her mouth water and her stomach ache and her head scream for something of nutritional value.

“Well, if they served rats, they sure do a good job of making them smell like chicken and beef and fish,” she laughed, even though by now she could do nothing but think of food. When Dirk order, she didn’t questioned him. It all sounded like ‘food food food food and more food’ to her. The words blurred in and out so much that when the waiter laughed and left her eyes followed him like a starving puppy dog sitting and waiting and hoping and praying that the master was bringing back a bowl of chow immediately.

She had to wait a moment though. She glanced at Dirk and smiled for him, even as her stomach grumbled again. “I’m sorry. I’m just so hungry. Our ship crashed out in the open a few weeks ago and we’ve gone through everything we have. I haven’t actually eaten in days… even the table cloth looks edible right now.”

Oh, she was hungry. But she didn’t think Dirk wanted to talk about her hunger, and as much as she liked to distrust people, he had offered to buy her food after just meeting her (because really, she knew, the money she won gambling was really his even if she had every intention of stealing it). She wanted to attempt that thing called small talk, which Jet and Spike were both utter failures at. Faye had little practice herself.

“So you don’t gamble… what else do you do?” Had they talked about that already? They might have, but her mind was jumbled. She grabbed the drink set down in front of her, something with sugar in it, and gulped it down.