Chance Meetings

Posted on Monday May 13th, 2019 @ 23:30 hours by Mercy & Tobie Fitzsimmons

Mission: Pixie Dust
Location: Station Promenade
Timeline: MD04 - 1640
941 words - 1.9 OF Standard Post Measure

It was only a matter of time- Tobie reminded herself- before she'd be off station and hooked up with another ship. She tugged at the hose she was wearing where it was bunching at the back of her knee and crossed her legs at the ankle again. Only a matter of time. All dressed up like some rich brat's prom date, sitting on a crate of stock that she'd be hawking next once the fruit ran out. It certainly wasn't her favorite gig, but it was something bringing credits in since the Onassis pulled into port and died gracelessly like it did. If she had more pride it might have burned her to be dressed up so to pimp out halfway gone fruits and vegetables, but who had that these days?

The clientele that wove through the base was mostly an empty-eyed lot. They came and went with no idea what was outside of their deviated path, meaning Tobie had to be a little loud to get the point across. Spotting a head well over the other in the crowd, she singled that one out as her next target of opportunity. "Excuse me! You! Yes you! Do you need more fiber in your diet? Have you been feeling a little like the scurvy's tugging at your toes? What you need is some fresh fruits and vegetables to nurse you back to health!"

There was only one head that stood significantly above all others, and keen triangular ears flicked in the direction of the voice, heard over the murmur of the crowd. It took Mercy a moment or two to realize that the voice was talking to her, only coming to that conclusion when she looked over in curiosity. Large form turned, heavy footfalls carrying her through the crowd towards the source of the voice. Once there she took in the sight, offering a smile - though careful not to show too many teeth. Humans tended to have a fear response when she did. She'd learned this many years ago, early in her Starfleet Academy days.

"Hello there." she mused, her voice thick and warm, tail giving a lazy wag. Truth be told though her people were consummate carnivores, they could handle fruits and vegetables - in small doses, and over the years she'd grown to appreciate the fresh, juicy taste. "What do you have for sale? Any Trimerian Brown Fruit, by any chance?" Small, flavorful, no inedible skin to peel off and no small, hard seeds to remove, it was the perfect snack fruit.

Fitz grimaced. "Sorry, sweetheart. Nothing that fancy I'm afraid. Everything here was grown on world in a convent. I'd love to tell you they were coaxed to life by buxom nuns, but if you've been on world, you know there's buxom nothin'-"

"Hey! I hired you to sell the damn fruit, not talk!" Came a growl from the back of the booth.

"Talkin' is how you move merchandise, chum. Simmer down a bit." Tobie rolled her dark eyes before fixing Mercy with another grin. "Those there white strawberries are the juiciest you'll find around here. Try one. See if it doesn't take you somewhere nice for a moment."

Mercy flicked an ear at the growl, glancing up in its general direction for a moment before turning her attention back to Tobie. "Ah, sure. I'll take a few of those." as she reached into a pocket to pull out her wallet. "How much for three? Sorry, I don't need more, I'm primarily a carnivore. Sure you can tell."

"It's okay. I'm happy to sell three even. You'd think fresh fruit would go a little better for space-faring folk eating retextured protein three meals a day, but nah. They'd rather kill their guts with booze that eat well for a moment. Where you heading to if you don't mind me asking? Somewhere warm? Somewhere lively?" Fitz flashed the amount over a chit scanner before passing it to Mercy.

Mercy in turn swiped her card over the chit scanner to pay. There wasn't a lot on that card, meant for small purchases, and she didn't really care that much how much they were. "I was hired as an engineer on a freighter. Just wasting time before it's time to report in." she mused, her voice warm and remarkably low for a female, a product of her size. "Be glad to be away from this place, that's for sure." she added, popping one of the strawberries into her maw, contemplating it for a moment. "Nice. Juicy."

Tobie leaned in a little closer, her hand artfully covering the dip in the dress's sweetheart neckline with her hand as she did so. "Yeah, me too when I can. Be a pal and think of me if you hear of any ships taking on crew, will ya? I've a strong back and a good sense for business."

"Fawkes. That's the boat I'm on. Groumal class freighter." Mercy flicked an ear again, speaking in an even more hushed tone, so the owner of the gruff voice in the back wouldn't hear. "Can't guarantee the cap'n's hiring, but it wouldn't hurt to check." the Sirran concluded with a nod.

"I'll check it out. Thank you, sugar." Righting herself again, Tobie's voice went back to sunshine and flowers. "And thank you so much for your purchase today."

"You're welcome." Mercy smiled, tail giving a lazy wag. She tossed up the second of the strawberries, snapping it out of the air with her maw, even as she gave a wave and headed back into the crowd.



Tobie Fitzsimmons
Froot seller extraordinaire

&

Mercy
Engineer