The Festivities of Fortune

[Ilana Logan]

"Hey, Ray," she said to get his attention.  "You make anyone cry lately?"

"Not lately." Ray answered with a smile and mocking disappointment. "Not since I got banned from the local abortion clinic. Some of those girls are so easy to guilt. I'm thinkin' of moving to alcoholic recovery meetings. I hear they're real moody there," he joked.

Then he laughed. "Why are you asking me if I've been making people cry? I'm not a Tear Vampire, I don't drink peoples sadness for sustenance," Ray said smiling.

She laughed then, and with an grin she said, "No, you don't drink sadness for sustenance, but I've seen you upset a good few people just by speaking.  Personally, I think you're funny, but I seem to be one of a small few."

"Small few?" Ray repeated, an eyebrow arched but a gleeful smile on his face. "Your breaking my heart Sunshine, crushing my dreams."

Why that particular conversation came to her then, she didn't know. Ray looked as confused as ever. He looked as though he were trying to think of something to say. That, or he was trying hard not to say something he was already thinking. There were several emotions playing over his face, but most of them she couldn't define. She'd never seen Ray with a look like that on his face. The only one she knew for sure was confusion. She could spot that pretty easily on any guy, it was an easy thing to notice.

She looked down at her feet again, and wiped under her eyes with her fingertips. She closed them and took a shaky breath, trying to force the tears to stop. She managed, albeit barely. He looked more confused than she'd ever seen a guy, she'd seen something like resolve pass over his face. She fought to keep her composure, the little she'd managed to regain, as he started to speak again.

"There's nothing wrong with either of you. When I called her an 'it' I was saying that...Y'know, pretty much what you were saying. She's got alotta...good stuff going on," Ray explained, sounding sincere. Making circle hand gestures to indicate his face as he was speaking. She took that to mean he liked the girl's face. He paused then, and she started to speak, but before she could, Ray started talking again. She was glad because she had no idea what she would have said.

"I was saying that she was so pretty that she-that she couldn't...that...I-I was doing a thing alright! I didn't know she was a mercenary! I didn't know you were going to act like this! I-I..." Ray said, his tone rising toward the end.

When his tone became more harsh, Ilana flinched and she felt her eyes burning again. She fought it back with everything she had. He looked impatient, and she wasn't sure whether he felt that toward her or himself, though she was willing to bet it was her. He hadn't hated the woman instantly. From what she understood of his explanation was he thought the woman was beautiful. Then why would he say those things? she wondered.

She watched as he visibly calmed himself. After a moment, he went on, his voice soft, "Look...if I knew what I said was gonna hurt you like this than I never woulda said it. I don't hate her and I don't hate you, alright."

She wasn't sure what to think of that. She knew she didn't know him very well, but she couldn't figure out why he would censor himself to spare her feelings. If he had known what he said was going to hurt her, he wouldn't have said it. But why? She wondered, not for the first time since she'd walked away from the group. She felt her face turn from hurt to confusion then and she wanted to speak. She wanted to ask him why he would stop himself from saying something, but he spoke first.

"What do you care what I think anyway?" he asked, and looked as though he truly wanted to know.

That's a damn good question, she thought. She didn't have an answer anymore than he did though. Not one she wanted to give him anyway. She wasn't sure if she could explain it even if she did want to tell him. He was part of her crew, of course she cared what he thought. But why? her mind insisted further.

"I'm not sure I can answer that," she said. "I just do. It’s hard to explain."

[Carl Davidson]

Carl had moved off in the direction that Longstreet had initially come from. He didn’t want to walk straight through all the guests, as that might make a bit of a scene. Though Carl was dressed in finer clothing, a dark colored suit and dawned a black cowboy hat rather then his everyday off brown one, he still wasn’t one of these people. Carl had the constant aching thought that he wasn’t one of the wealthy people there, and wasn’t a man of great power. He worked as an individual. He did as Longstreet asked of him, just as he had done for years and years, and always did so to the best of his ability. But he always knew they were not equals.

Though they weren’t in the same social or economic standing, Carl had never once been bothered by it. He was raised in a household that was respectful, and he had a lot of loyalty to the man that had always been his commander. It had been mentioned to him a few times that if something were to happen to Longstreet he would likely take over. If it came from someone he knew, Carl would just dismiss it, and if it came from someone he didn’t, he would likely hurt them a fair amount for even suggesting the idea.

As he appeared on the ground floor from the east wing of the house he put his finger up to his ear.

”Balkin.” He started looking over the crowd of people. ”You sure you seen him?” Carl asked and stopped. He adjusted his suit and he could feel the pistol at his torso move slightly.

”Sure of it.” a voice answered in his ear. ”Just walked in at the other end, he’s out by the food’n table. See em’? The voice asked.

Carl stretched his neck to see over the people, and finally caught the man he was looking for. ”Yeah, I see em’.” Carl said and then started to move forward.

He stayed very close to the side wall of the room. He absolutely didn’t want to be in anyone’s way. He was a very large man it wouldn’t take much for him to knock into someone and have them fall to the floor. Carl could probably handle such an occurrence with little issue, but he’d feel embarrassed, and it just seemed easier to try to avoid it altogether.

He finally came up from the other side of the table of food. He looked over at Marcus, who was flanked by other members of his group. The only one Carl remembered by name was Ray, but that was because he’d been working under Longstreet for years. ”O’Terra.” Carl called out, but not too loud as to disturb anyone. ”Colonel’s callin’ for ya, needs to introduce ya to someone.” He tilted his head back and looked up to the balcony on the second floor towards where Longstreet was standing with Marleque.

[Ray Hudson]

A straight answer wasn't given. Ilana said that she didn't think she could answer him but she cared what he had to think it her reasons were difficult to explain. Ray looked away from her unable to cope with the red in her eyes. This was his fault and he didn't want to face it. He was beginning to suspect that not even she knew why she was so upset. Ray started to regret going after her. He thought that if he just let her go he would at least have some time to think of something before he saw her again.

When things calmed down.

Ray started to pick her words apart. "I'm not sure I can answer that." Said the woman in the gold dress. "I just do. It's hard to explain" She continued. He wondered what she meant by all that. Did she know the reasons but she didn't think she could put it in words? Perhaps she didn't feel that Ray deserved to know. Maybe she didn't think she was in an emotional state where she could explain. Ray still wanted to know and her answer only made him more curious. He was aware that he would never know the truth until she told him herself.

There were options. Ray tried to decide on what he should do next. He told himself that he was already here, might as well keep trying. Another part of him said 'It isn't worth it' and he could always just throw his hands up and walk away. Ray had a tendency to walk away from things that proved to difficult, why should this be any different. Ilana was causing a problem, making him question himself. Why shouldn't he just leave her in a puddle of her own issues, why should he give up his own coat? He thought about what he should say next or if he should say anything at all.

"Don't waste my time with your excuses! I've had enough of you're SHIT! You're getting up and walking away, understand me?! Get up and walk away." Screamed the Guide, livid with Ray's resistance.

Ray held the girl in his arms, the girl with blonde highlights in her hair. He was in a cabin on a large red ship, sitting on the edge of a bed. Her brown and red uniform was tired, ragged her wrists were covered in several different bracelets from a variety of worlds. Ray was holding her with sincere concern and he wouldn't let anything hurt her. She sobbed into his shoulder for the good part of an hour and Ray didn't mind in the slightest.

That night, mutiny was discussed.

"Ilana, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." Ray gave a heartfelt apology. No planning, no second guessing, he just let out an apology. He rarely gave a sincere apology to anyone. Most of his apologies were filled with grudging enthusiasm or sarcasm. Ray was unsure if even this apology meant anything but it sounded gracious and he told himself to believe that it is.

[Ilana Logan]

Ray looked frustrated with her lack of response. She saw a multitude of emotions pass over his face. He seemed to settle on curiosity. Ray was curious. She thought on that one for a moment, then realized he was probably curious as to what she didn't tell him. Why she couldn't explain it. Maybe even what it was that she didn't think she could explain. He seemed to withdraw into himself, and Ilana thought, I lost him with that last one.

She regretted that, but she didn't know how to explain herself, nor did she truly want to. She didn't like being vulnerable, and she thought she'd fulfilled that quota for a lifetime tonight. If it would have brought him back to where he had been when the night began though, she would have told him, but she knew it wouldn't have, even if she'd told him when he asked. She knew what she felt, but she had never been good with putting her feelings into words. There was no way she could explain it to him in a way that wouldn't make her look like an even bigger idiot, or make him run away as fast as he could.

She saw regret on his face. Her heart sank and she hated herself even more. He's probably regretting my existence right about now, she thought.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" The man in white shouted at her.

She felt tears spilling down her cheeks and she turned to walk away from him, hating herself for crying in front of him, in front of anyone. He grabbed her arm and turned her back to face him. His face was only inches from hers. His anger was so strong that she would have been scared if she had room for anymore emotions inside her at that moment.

"I wish you'd never came here," he said in a quiet, but fierce voice.

"Please don't say that," she said through her tears.

She reached for him and he grabbed her wrist, inches from his face, to stop her. His grip was painful on her arm and she fought not to wince. "Why do you hate me so much?" She asked, hating the sound of her own voice.

"I only wish I hated you, Ilana," he said. He flung her arm away from him and said, "Get the hell off my ship."

She felt the tears coming again, and turned away, running out of the cargo bay toward her bunk.

Ilana shook off the memory of that day on the Savannah and saw many different emotions passing over Ray's face, almost too fast to identify. The only one she could spot for sure was resolve, though she wasn't sure why she would see that look on Ray's face at that moment. Truthfully, she could have been wrong about that too. That's just what it looked like to her.

"Ilana, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," Ray said, sounding sincere.

She knew he meant it from the look on his face, and the tone of his voice. She felt her eyes burning again. She swallowed hard and fought it back. She started to reach out to Ray, then she stopped herself, wondering if he would squeeze her wrist hard enough to bruise as the man in white had. Dammit, she thought at herself. Not everyone is like him.

She pushed through the doubt and reached up to Ray, gently touching her hand to his cheek. "Never apologize for speaking your mind. It hurt my feelings, yes, but only because I'm a stupid girl. Never apologize to anyone for being honest," she said intensely, meaning every word.

This is terribly awkward. This is why I hate crying, especially in front of people, she thought angrily at herself. She hated the awkwardness that came after someone saw her cry.

She pulled her hand away from his face and clasped it with the other one in front of her. She looked down at her feet again for a moment, and took a deep breath. She looked back up and met his eyes, her face set with determination, and she smiled a small smile for him. She thought carefully about what to say next, but in the end, she just decided to be truthful. Maybe it would make Ray feel a bit better. She could only hope it wouldn't make him angry. She felt uncomfortable again, embarrassed for making herself look like a fool, and nervous at what she was about to say.

She was too nervous to look at him when she spoke, so she looked back down at her feet. "I've been dreading this party ever since we were told we had to be here. That's what's so wrong with me. I didn't want to be here in the first place, and I still don't want to be here. I'm not comfortable at things like this, dressed this way," she said. As she finished, she plucked at the side of her dress, making the fabric swish softly. She looked back up at him then, the nerves faded just enough that she could look him in the eye again. She also wanted him to know she meant it, and staring at her feet was not the way to incite confidence in anyone. "It's not your fault, honest. Someone would have set me off either crying, screaming, or fighting by the end of the night anyway. At least we got it over with early," she said that last with a sardonic smile.


She pulled her hands apart and offered him her arm to show him she wasn't angry, and that she meant it when she said it wasn't his fault. She was still a bit curious as to why he had said he wouldn't have said it if he'd known it would hurt her, but she wouldn't ask. She only held her arm out to him, hoping he didn't just walk away and leave her looking like an even bigger fool than she already did, and asked, "Shall we return to our comrades and forget this ever happened?"

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus watched Ray go off to damage control his latest impact with Ilana. He wondered how that was going to work out. They were an odd pair of ship mates, hell they were an odd crew as a whole. Marcus sighed, but was distracted by the mass of man moving in his direction. Carl, the second in command to Longstreet.

He moved up to Marcus and told him curtly that Longstreet was looking for him. Marcus nodded. "Lead the way. Jay? Come along. Not leaving you alone to fend off all these fancy pants." He didn't think it right to just ditch Jay. If Longstreet wanted a private conversation, Jay could just excuse himself.

Marcus saw where Carl was looking, he could see Longstreet and another, older looking man. He nodded, but would follow after Carl's lead. He didn't quite know the layout of the place.

[Jay Fuller]

Before Marcus responded, or even registered that Jay said anything probably, a huge man came up to them. He looked familiar. Jay felt like he should have known him but he couldn't quite place it. Someone important, that's for sure.

He asked Marcus to come along with him. To which Marcus said, "Lead the way." Jay figured he was on his own again until Marcus added, "Jay? Come along. Not leaving you alone to fend off all these fancy pants."

"Coming!" Jay responded. He followed the two men across the room, wondering what the hell this was all about. He looked back briefly to see if Ilana and Ray had made up, but he didn't see them. Oh well.

[Carl Davidson]

When Carl realized that the doctor was coming with them, he thought about stopping him. He didn’t think it was a good idea bringing uninvited people to the summons, but that would have involved an unnecessary delay. It was already taking enough time to go around the guests, and Carl always tried to get things done quickly. ”Come on” He said tilting his head to the side.

In spite of the generally pleasant atmosphere, Carl maintained his very serious sort of expression. There wasn’t even the slightest hint that he was having a good time, which generally was the way he was in places like this. Everyone was enjoying the party, but Carl was still on the job. He was doing on the job when everyone was celebrating at and at ease, he was on the job when no one was around, and he was even on the job when he was asleep. If he needed to, he would do his best to serve drinks, but fortunately for him that wasn’t necessary.

”East Wing.” Carl announced tilting his head towards a hallway, though in his mind it was something like ‘lets go through this way’. ”I don’ wanna get’n the way a all them.” Carl said bobbing his head towards the large group of guests at the center. If the three of them walked at the pace Carl was moving at, they’d probably knock into something, and he didn’t want the trouble. It was just as easy to take the long way.

Once they got into the hallway that led into the main room, they walked a short while and hung a right to find a set of stairs. They only went up to the second floor, and it was a bit of a walk. Carl looked behind them, to make sure they were all there, and finished by looking over the two. ”You enjoyin’ the party.” Carl said as he put his foot on the first step, and proceeded up.

Though he was asking a question, Carl definitely wasn’t the sort of person that liked long and clever answers, a simple yes or no would do in his mind.

[Marcus O'Terra]

Carl didn't speak against Jay coming along, so Marcus presumed any disagreement would occur with Longstreet and his guest. But why should it? Marcus followed after Carl with a quiet smile, the cane helping as the soreness in his gut started to return. He wasn't sure what it was.

He met soldiers who'd walked with limps from wounds long healed and healed straight, but still felt the pains. Some claimed a bit of the shrapnel was still in there and they could feel it at night. Others said the doctors left something in their guts when they sewed up the wounds.

Both very likely, given the strain on medicine during the war, especially on the brown side of the line. Marcus didn't spend too much time on the ground, compared to others, but he remembered walking past 'Triage' more than once. It was gut wrenching to witness.

Carl led through away from the main party gathering. Carl spoke and the words didn't match the tone. Marcus looked to Jay with a smirk but spoke up. "Yes, Thank you." his mother didn't live long enough to teach him manners but he picked them up along the way.

He followed Carl up the stairs, the cane making a soft sound with each step, the underside padded for the sake of the floors.

[Carl Davidson]

Looking around once more Carl looked over the heads of the two behind him. He was in front of them, and so it wasn’t exactly a struggle since he was on the stairs. He was also taller then the both of them. He scanned the area behind them with his eyes quickly. He’d looked forward and didn’t see anything. ”Uh-huh” Carl responded, and his mouth stayed open just a little bit. They were about half way up the steps, and Carl whipped his whole body around so that he was at a profile view for Marcus.

Carl could feel the adrenaline run through him as he moved in that fraction of a second, and thrust his right arm out, and grabbed Marcus at the center of his torso. His hand hit hard and his fingers gripped every layer of Marcus clothing starting from his vest. Carl balled it up in his fist, and clothed his mouth. His jaw was clenched and tight and he gave a slight grunt as he turned Marcus to hit him against the wall.

Carl could feel his muscles work as he drove Marcus against the wall. The whole point was to work as fast as possible, and without leaving him the slightest bit prepared. As he smashed Marcus against the wall, he could feel his hand that was holding his clothing hit against the man’s chest. Carl knew that it might have hurt, but it didn’t matter too much to him right at that point.

There was a sort of burning protective hatred in Carl’s eyes, much like a dog that just watched someone hit its. Carl gave a jetting exhale through his nose as he had finished getting Marcus to the wall. His looking around had shown there was no one around except for the three of them there. He would have preferred not to have the Doc there, but it didn’t make much of a difference to him.

”Where the fuck d’you think you are!” Carl demanded in a quiet yell, so as to not attract any attention, but to get his general tone across. He didn’t ease up on Marcus clothing even a little bit, and he pointed his left finger forward almost like a parent scolding a child.

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus couldn't tell that was coming until Carl began to spin. For a moment he thought Carl was pushing him out of the way of a bullet or something, though Marcus couldn't think long enough to guess why he'd be shot at, in this setting.

He hit the wall and Marcus gasped for breath. He wasn't shocked out of his head or knocked out, but the situation wasn't what he'd planned on. Carl asked him a question, a real one, and one he was probably hoping for a real answer too.

"I'm in the home of my employer: the man whose done right by me since we met. More directly, I'm between a stair-wall of that home and that man's second in command." Ah. It clicked. Longstreet had asked for Marcus, not Marcus and Jay. "Was I overstepping myself?" He gestured at Jay.

Marcus didn't like the use of force between comrades, its what shook him up the most about that whole debacle at the compound. Marcus held up the cane. "Or is it this?"

[Carl Davidson]

He was talking. He was blathering on in a way that sounded to Carl like he was just trying to weasel his way out of what had just happened to him. The fact that he'd jumped up with an answer so quickly, and one that was so long, told him just that. As it was said Carl could hear the smart mouth words that had been dribbled from his lips like vomit from a baby. It was just something that couldn't be controlled, a natural instinct.

Carl didn't deal well with that sort of thing. He'd had people for years try to use words to justify actions. But to him he only defined people by actions. He didn't care what anyone had to say, it was reputation that built people, and Carl had a well known one. This wasn't the first time he'd had someone against the wall, and while the instinct of some was to use words to settle things "civilly", Carl's was to take the large knife in his coat and give them a poke.

"Shut the fuck up!" Carl said, pulling Marcus away and hitting his back against the wall again. He gave him a one inch punch that was hard along with it, though that was more unintentional. "You don't spit yer shit to me, you just listen." Carl jabbed. As he spoke he thought about grabbing the cane and snapping it in half. He didn't doubt that he could do it, but he kept going.

He stared straight into Marcus eyes like he was a bull ready to charge. "Yer here, in this fuckin' house, representin' the Colonel. This…" Carl pointed at the ground. "Is the Colone's fuckin' house. His God damn home! Not some fuckin' whore house!"

Carl looked to his right, down the stairs to make sure no one was there, and quickly came back to Marcus. He was at a point where he felt like he could just snap him in half. "The most powerful fuckin' people on the rim are in this house, right now!" Carl pointed out, he put his teeth around his lip for a fraction of a second and continued. "And how's it look to them, when yer out on the balcony fuckin' a whore!?" Carl demanded.

He wasn't going to tolerate Marcus trying to lie his way around things. He knew that Marcus knew what he'd done, and he wasn't going to take semantics. This was very unacceptable, and Carl trusted the word of the witnesses an infinite amount more then he did the man who he had against the wall.

[Jay Fuller]

Jay followed Marcus through the crowd, then down a hallway and up some stairs. Jay was looking around at the structure of the place. It was massive, like something you'd see near the Core. He loved it, but he wondered if he could ever live in a place like this. It was posh, that was for sure. But Jay wasn't quite that fancy. He enjoyed visiting and acting all proper, but deep down he was a much more simple person. He wanted the farmhouse on several acres of property. The family, the seclusion from the rest of the world. Yeah, he wanted to experience things in his life, but when he was ready to settle down the simple life is what he wanted.

"You enjoyin' the party?" Carl asked. Jay looked up and nodded with a quick, "Yeah." Marcus shot him a glance and Jay returned it. Jay wasn't sure what to think of Carl. He was very...rigid, it seemed. When they got further up the steps, Carl responded with a quick uh-huh.

Suddenly, Carl whipped around. He swung his arm and grabbed Marcus by the torso as he shoved him against the wall. "Where the fuck d'you think you are!" Carl shouted at Marcus.

Jay jumped a bit. He opened his mouth to speak, but Marcus beat him to the punch. "I'm in the home of my employer: the man whose done right by me since we met. More directly, I'm between a stair-wall of that home and that man's second in command...Was I overstepping myself?" He gestured to Jay, and he realized. Obviously he wasn't welcome.

"And you know, asking me to leave could've sufficed," Jay added, not hiding his angered tone. Perhaps being a smartass might agitate Carl even more, but Jay was getting damn tired of this shit. They couldn't have one night without people attacking them, shooting at them, or bringing up some sort of ridiculous drama. They'd only been out of the hospital a month, after all.


Carl continued, "Shut the fuck up! You don't spit yer shit to me, you just listen. "The most powerful fuckin' people on the rim are in this house, right now! And how's it look to them, when yer out on the balcony fuckin' a whore!?"

Oh.

Jay glanced to Marcus. Well that explained a lot. He raised an eyebrow at his captain. Did he just go and poke a Companion on the balcony, or was this some random chick he picked up? Or maybe it was someone's wife that he didn't know. It must have been that girl he walked off with earlier.

Well, this is awkward, Jay thought. He shut his mouth and put his hands in his pockets. Looked like Marcus was on his own with this one.

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus actually blushed when Carl explained exactly why he was so furious at him. That made sense now. Certainly Marcus had chosen a nice secluded spot. He'd kept his voice down. The party was far off and away, and had done his level best to be discrete . Still, he'd been caught red handed.

"I imagine I look like a overdressed dog out of place." Marcus said, flatly. His voice was dry, the usual devil-may-care attitude absent. He'd once again tread on toes trying to find some enjoyment in this life. Once again he'd misapplied the context of his life.

He could probably say somethign to Carl about how Marcus lacked the fortune to have met any great men during the war, even less fortune to follow them. He'd known good men, and women. They'd fought well hard and true, but they lacked Longstreet's clout or prestige.

Marcus wanted to let this be a brawl, to get his ass whooped, again; so maybe some of this would sink into his head. But he said none of those irritating things, and looked Carl straight in the eye.

"If your gonna discipline me, sir, do it." Marcus threw words out there sure enough but it rarely resulted in much. He was gonna get a punch to the gut to be sure. Lucky thing he brought the cane.

[Carl Davidson]

Even hearing him speak made Carl angry. This wasn't good. It wasn't that Carl was prone to blind fits of fury like some would imagine, he generally had very good control over himself. What did tend to happen is he would hit things harder then he normally would. If it came to that point, it would just be a single shot, and it would be hard. Whether it was with a bullet in the brain, a knife in the heart, or a fist to the kidney. The part that made it scary for some was those incidents weren't exactly uncommon.

His absolute problem with Marcus though, was that he didn't even accept he'd done something wrong. He wasn't begging forgiveness, he wasn't trying to lie his way out more. Those things were what Carl expected. Those were what he wanted. Instead he got Marcus' submission. His acceptance that he was going to be punished, and seemed to have not the slightest understanding of what it was that he did. From Carl's point of view that was a fact.

He felt his grip tighten on Marcus' clothing, the more words he said, the more angry Carl felt. It was the moment Marcus gave order that Carl's hatred peaked.

"Oh I'm gonna." Carl answered, so quick to him it almost felt like it was part of Marcus' sentence.

In that instant his left elbow began to pull away from him. He wondered where it was going. It just began to leave, like a swing drifting back. It went quickly, like it was tired of it's position holding his fingers up. But just as that happened his index finger bent down and fell into line with his others forming a fist. Suddenly his elbow stopped moving backwards, and had full thrust moving in the opposite direction. Like a speed rail train, it charged forward, with his fist at the lead. It came in fast, and it was hard.

The strike gave a dull thud the moment it connected as it broke any defense that might have been in it's way, right at the belly. As all the energy in the strike was unleashed Carl released Marcus' clothing. As he did he stopped looking at what had happened. He knew the result of what he'd done, and he didn't need to continue to watch his progress. He simply turned around to face Jay.

He looked at Jay right in his eyes, the anger still boiling inside of him. He took a breath in through his nose and let it out. "Colonel's up the stairs and to the right." Carl revealed. He knew that the look he gave Jay would make him feel like he was next, but instead he just began to walk down the stairs. He moved quickly, and hit the seventh step. He kept looking in the direction he was going, leaving Jay and Marcus behind him. "Make sure he don't fuck anyone else on the way there!" He yelled still looking forward, as he hit the ground level and turned down the hall he'd came from to the main hall.

[Jay Fuller]

Jay watched the scene continue. He jumped when Carl thrust his fist into Marcus' gut. Jay cringed. Then, Carl turned to face him. He looked straight at Jay, and Jay resisted the urge to look away. It was honestly a frightening sight -- the man was taller, stronger, and could probably snap Jay in half with just his index finger and thumb. But Jay didn't look away, even though he probably had the deer-in-the-headlights look. He almost wish he'd brought a gun. Oh well.

Carl exhaled through his nose, reminding Jay of an angered bull. "Colonel's up the stairs and to the right." Thankfully, Carl walked past Jay and down the stairs. "Make sure he don't fuck anyone else on the way there!"

Jay then looked at Marcus. "Really?" he asked, looking at Marcus as if he was stupid. Which, according to Jay, he was. "Since when is sex in a public place EVER a good idea?" Jay honestly didn't understand what some people did, or why they thought it was a good idea. Things like this, or any other thing that common sense would say is a terrible idea. Jay wasn't legitimately angry with Marcus, he was more annoyed that the situation happened in the first place. He was tired of drama.

[Ray Hudson]

Pride was one of the many factors in Ray's journey towards self-destruction. It held him back, caused fights and lost him friends. Despite his awareness of his complete incompetence he still feels the need to do some things on his own. He will refuse any form of help if he feels insulted by the issue. If he feels his intelligence is insulted or if he feels his character insulted then he will make the situation very intimate. If Ray simply feels that he is in the right, he will not acknowledge the other sides legitimacy and demonize them almost immediately if they continue disagreeing with him.

For Ray to apologize without thinking he did anything wrong was a big deal for him. He didn't think he had done anything that warranted tears to stream but he apologized anyway. The uncertainty is what got to him most. He didn't know if what he was doing was the right thing to say, he didn't know if he was making a positive change and he didn't know if he really wanted to change. He had no clue how his life got here and what the people around him were thinking.

Ray had no idea what was going to happen if he tried to save himself.

Ilana started to reach out to Ray but she hesitated. Ray didn't move and when she continued she put her hand on his cheek. He wasn't used to such gentle gestures and he just stood there, listening. She told him to never apologize for speaking his mind, regardless if it hurt her feelings. Ilana told him to never apologize to anyone for being honest.

'Ray, I just like your brother a little more than you.' Ray's large, round uncle said, staring at the road as he drove down the beat up street. The town was filthy and impoverished, homeless people everywhere and it had it's own scent of 'poor'. Ray silently sighed as he sat in the back seat, feeling like the biggest failure in the world. His large, round uncle like his brother more than him and the news made his chest feel like it was being weighed down by stones. Ray had just turned 11 a few days ago and he was in some filthy town filled with pickpockets and prostitutes. Now he was learning that yet another person was aware of how pathetic he was. 'It's just...he understands what's appropriate. You just say whatever, and don't care.'

'But I'm telling the truth!' Ray shot back. How could he think that's a bad thing. He was honest. Honesty, that was a positive trait. That's what he was taught.

Honesty was a good thing.

'Well most people don't want to hear the truth.' His large, round uncle responded.

Ray loved his uncle but his uncle had sorted his loved ones into tiers.

So Ray would too.

Ilana's advice didn't help him. He thought he was doing something right. Everyone told him that he just said what he thought, uncaring of what people thought. It was a flaw, it made him weak, undesirable. He was making a positive change. Ilana removed her hand from his cheek and looked down on the floor.

The uncertainty is what got him most. He was fixing himself, he wasn't wrong to apologize. He made a mistake and he was making it right. When you offend someone you apologize, regardless if you feel like you were in the right. Ray was flawed and he was fixing himself. What was the point in changing if he will always be in the wrong? He felt his face burning and he could hear his own breathing. He tried to control himself, shutting his eyes for a moment and telling himself to relax. He regained his composure and looked at Ilana.

A small smile came across her face and she looked back down at her feet. She told him that she hated being at this party and was very uncomfortable. She said that was what was wrong with her. Ilana couldn't stand this place. She looked him in the eyes and said it wasn't his fault and that she would have lost it in one way or another, with or without his comments. She offered an arm to him and asked if they should rejoin the group.

Ray didn't want this to continue being a problem, and wanted it solved. He wasn't going to get into change and what's right and wrong about a persons actions with Ilana. He smiled at her and gently accepted her arm. He looked toward their group and saw Carl talking to Marcus. Marcus, Jay and Carl started walking away and Ray wondered about joining them. He knew the drill, if he needed Ray and Ilana, Carl would have gotten them. It didn't matter if Ilana was on the floor wailing and Ray was screaming for her to shut up, he would have gotten them anyway.

"We should probably leave them to it." Ray said, implying that they shouldn't follow them. His voice didn't hold a lot of energy, he would need a moment to recharge. "We could go back to where we were if you want." Ray suggested, looking toward the food.

He wanted more shrimp.

[Ilana Logan]

Ray hesitated for a moment and Ilana wondered what he was thinking. It seemed that she'd been wondering that about him more tonight than she'd wondered what anyone was thinking in her life. She frowned, her brow furrowing slightly in the middle, wondering what was going on in his head to make those expressions cross his face.

Then Ray smiled at her and gently accepted her arm. He looked in the direction they'd come from and she followed his gaze. She saw Carl, the large man that worked for Longstreet, talking to Marcus. After a moment, Marcus and Jay followed Carl away from the food table. She wondered at that, but said nothing.

"We should probably leave them to it," Ray said, sounding tired. Ilana took that to mean that they shouldn't follow Marcus and Jay. That was fine with her. Truthfully, she didn't much want to talk to anyone anyway. "We could go back to where we were if you want," Ray suggested, looking toward the food.

Of course. He'd been ravaging the shrimp right before I freaked out, she thought. He's probably starving.

She smiled a little and, sounding a little resigned, she said, "Sure. We can go back."

She was a little hungry herself, but at the same time, she was ready for the night to be over. She was done playing dress-up, and she was done trying to impress anyone. She was tempted to take her heels off, her feet were starting to hurt, but she figured people of this class might get a little offended by that.

She started to walk toward the table, assuming that since he'd taken her arm, he meant to walk with her. It felt like the table was a million miles away. She had a thousand thoughts running through her mind and she didn't think she could say any of them. The one that seemed to run through most often is What is he thinking? Closely following that one though were, I hate myself sometimes, and why would you pick this place to cry in?

Most of the thoughts were about how horrible she thought herself to be in that moment. There were a few random thoughts about people in the room though. Like the girl in the yellow dress, with the plunging neckline and weird scales from the waist down. It was the most hideous dress she'd ever seen. Then again, Ilana hated almost all dresses. For all she knew, it was high fashion.

The one thought that kept coming back, she could rationalize for herself, but came no closer to really explaining it to herself than she'd been when she first thought it. What is he thinking about? The only thing she could figure was that it had something to do with how horrible she felt. She knew Ray apologized, and she felt bad for making him feel like he needed to.

A waiter passed with a tray of drinks and she plucked one off the tray. She smelled it and she was pretty sure it was whiskey mixed with something sweet. She took a sip, made a face, then took another sip. Finally, unable to bear the deafening silence anymore, she said, "You said you're going to stay sober tonight.... Well, I'm not. I'll never survive this night sober. If at any point you feel like you should cut me off, though, go ahead. I'm not a mean drunk, and even drunk, I know how to take advice."

She downed the rest of the drink and traded it for another, similar looking drink, as they passed another of the waiters with trays. I only see one way out of this night, and loosening up a bit is it. She hoped she didn't seem like she was putting off her responsibility on Ray. She could handle her alcohol, and normally she knew when to cut herself off, but she wasn't always reliable about things like that when she was emotional.

All she needed was someone to tell her when.

[Ray Hudson]

Agreeing to go back towards the food, Ray and Ilana made their way there. On the way a waiter walked by with a tray of drinks, which Ilana helped herself to. She told Ray that she had no intention of remaining sober and if he felt that she had enough he could let her know. Ray knew from experience that telling someone they were drunk was like challenging their sexual orientation. People, in his experience, deny it entirely and can't believe how you could overreact so much. Everyones just a little tipsy, they're all good to drive. Ray wouldn't even try to tell her when she's had enough, despite her claims that she could take advice even when under the influence.

"Yeah, sure." Ray said, scoffing, his doubt obvious in his tone. "Two or three more 'pink sparklys' in ya and you wont even be able to stand." Ray accused. Ilana was short and didn't weigh much, so Ray didn't think she could hold her liquor well at all. In her apparent emotional state, moderation was probably scratched off the list. His reference of 'pink sparklys' was a jab at her gender, suggesting that since she was a woman she would be looking for whatever fruity drink she could find.Ray was teasing her, trying to make things a little more comfortable. A strange method but it was one he utilized.

They reached the food area and Ray tossed another shrimp in his mouth. Ray had memories of shrimp, while surrounded by finely dressed people. He was at a wake for his brothers, wife's brother, Chuck. Ray knew Chuck a little bit, got high in his car during his brothers wedding and the two got along well during get togethers. When Ray learned that Chuck had a brain hemorrhage and fell down dead one day at work, he got an invite to the wake and funeral from his brother. Ray knew they would spare no expense so he came prepared. During the wake, Ray walked over to the shrimp and pulled a paper bag out of his back pocket. He started throwing shrimp into it and when he felt that he had enough he put the bag in his brothers car. He wasn't all that discreet about it but he did make a small effort, looking over his shoulder to check if anyone was watching.

Sadly, someone did see him pillaging the little sea creatures and told his brother. Ray's brother scolded him but Ray didn't think he did anything wrong. They would never finish all the food and he figured he should help himself. He made excuses, claiming that it wasn't disrespectful and that it was a victimless crime. His brother just shook his head at him and walked away. Ray just assumed he would get over it, and a few drinks later it was like it never happened.

Ray was always very inappropriate and never really cared about what others thought. He acted on a whim and was very impulsive, not a lot of thought going into his words or actions. It was who he was and he wanted to change it. But when he thought about that time he stole shrimp from someones wake, using a bag he brought on his own, he couldn't help but laugh to himself about it.

[Carl Davidson]

Stomping through the hallway as he left what happened in the staircase behind him to memory, Carl made his way back to the main hall. He straightened his coat, and his black cowboy hat, and took a breath right before he entered. To everyone else it seemed like nothing had happened. Even looking at Carl you would hardly know anything had happened. His face looked as serious as it did when he’d left in the first place. In general no one would look at Carl like he was a friendly person and they were right to presume he wasn’t.

He looked up to see that Longstreet was still up at the top of the second floor balcony, and he was. That was good, it meant he didn’t have to worry about getting back up there. In some minds it may not have been a very good idea for him to let Marcus go there on his own, especially after having just knocked him around. But Carl wasn’t the only guard there, and he knew his presence would add tension to the situation that wasn’t necessary. He was more worried about himself saying something about it, and decided it was best to move away from the entire situation.

Carl wasn’t prone to drinking at these sorts of things, he needed to keep his head straight. He held his liquor well, but he didn’t need the problem. He needed to occupy himself for a moment though and made his way over towards the table of food that he’d found Marcus at in the first place. He thought that maybe eating a piece of fruit might help put him at ease. In spite of his breathing to calm himself down, he still wanted to tear Marcus’ head off.

When he got close he realized that Ray was standing there, with the mechanic from Marcus’ group. He didn’t remember her name, but he knew Ray’s because he’d been working with Longstreet for years. Though he was one of Morse’s people he was as established as Carl was there. So it didn’t bother him seeing him there, if anything their somewhat similar background would help Carl calm down.

He got over to the table, and looked over for something. He found large bowl that was filled with an assortment of shrunken fruit. They were a popular thing, to have mini apples and oranges that were half the size of normal fruit. He reached in and grabbed an orange and pulled it out. As he did a man approached him holding a platter of drinks.

“Drink sir?” he asked, obviously thinking Carl could use one.

”You wanna get the fuck away from me.” Carl said looking at him right in the eyes, with an aggravated tone.

The man was clearly scared instantly and moved away.

Carl began to peal off the skin from the orange and looked over at Ray and the mechanic. ”You gotta watch that fuckin’ idiot captin’ a yers.” Carl suggested to them. ”He’s up on a balcony fuckin’ some whore. Shit, he’s lucky he aint dead.” Carl was venting, but he didn’t think anything of it. He continued to peal the skin away from the orange, he wanted it all off before he started to eat it.

[Marcus O'Terra]

Marcus exhaled with the strike, let his body go limp, but it hurt. Damn it hurt. Another whipping, another beating, another flogging. Marcus took it and doubled over; the cane found a grip on the stair and kept up upright.

For a moment he only breathed and the world around him was of secondary concern, any other consequences were beyond that.

Jay's words broke in through his head and he sighed but didn't smile. "It's not. But when have I been one to take up 'good' ideas?" He groaned but straightened himself. "Glad I brought the cane." He took another step up the stairs. "Save the chewing out until later, you can even get Ilana in on it if you want." He rubbed his side.

He took several deep breaths as he walked up the stairs, and except for the cringe in his step, it would be hard to tell he'd just taken a lick. He fell into a stride and looked over his shoulder to Jay. "This isn't my scene, Jay. I'm a dirt-rock bar guy, not this diamond-glass stuff." He looked at him. "He give you directions?"

Marcus was asking Jay to lead, but didn't quite say it.