Should you Hit him, or Should I? (Vitale)

[Deleted]

OOC: I couldn't find a better place to put this, and since the brig is on the level three anyway... eh it works.))

Desmond shoved Corvey into the chair, zip tying the man's arms to the chair "Alright Mr. Corvey, we've got a few questions for you. And you're going to answer them all." Only after digging his fingers into the pressure points on both the man's shoulders, did he pull off the hood and toss it aside. He left the gag in for the moment though, he wouldn't need to talk right away. Just as a hint to what he would be receiving throughout their time together, Dez punched the man right in his kidney, not hard enough to hurt the kidney, but more than hard enough for Corvey to feel it.

Dez removed the gag from Crovey's mouth and then stepped to the side, letting Vitale take over for the moment. Drawing his knife and starting to nonchalantly clean his fingernails. "Remember, I get his ear this time." He stated with an almost board tone of voice. Of course the gunsmith wasn't really going to cut off the man's ear... unless he really had to. He didn't want to give Ros any more work than she really needed, especially not for this man. He didn't exactly deserve to get fixed up after they were done with him.

"Now Mr. Corvey, my friend here isn't as patient as I am."

Desmond couldn't help but smile as he stepped closer, not bothering to taunt Corvey with the knife that was still in his hand, just held it at his side for the moment. "Now Mr. Corvey, you and I are going to have a nice chat. You're going to answer our questions." Naturally Corvey disagreed with Desmond, which caused the gunsmith to smile and sheathe his knife. His smile didn't faulter of fade either, up until Desmond punched Corvey. He started with a right hook, then a punch to the gut, followed by several more seemingly random punches to Corvey's body.

Dez grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. "Why don't we dope you up, then throw you to the wolves. See how you like getting reamed by men you don't know." Desmond threw the man to the right, knocking him off balance and letting Corvey fall on his side. Resting his foot over the man's kidney, Dez rested his weight on the his foot, "So how about answering?" Desmond could keep going, he'd had to kill several people today, he wasn't happy about that. Not one bit.

[Deleted]

"Cordoba, Matheson." Davis said, entering the Peerless and giving orders, as everyone said their peace to the rescued hostage. Vi didn't exactly dislike her, but between the adrenalin of the job, and Keller's name change, his mind just wasn't on a woman who couldn't possibly alter the outcome of the next few hours. "Show Mister Corvey to his quarters and make sure he's comfortable." At least for the next few hours, he could concentrate on this job, this guy, and grind away his frustrations. Vitale hadn't been trained to interrogate soldiers, but he'd learned by experience. Watching people get hurt, and being hurt himself. The war on Seph wasn't as big as the real war between governments, but it was every bit as brutal. He would know, he'd seen both.

They took Corvey down through the stairwell, and then on into the brig. It wasn't as big as he'd have made it, but then, that was probably the point. After all, how many people did you intend to bring aboard as prisoners? At one time anyway. It wasn't much larger than his portion of his and Nate's room. It only had a metal chair, and as per their order's from Davis, the three stooges had painted the room in a 'dark gun' metal color, and cut down on the lights. It did not feel at all inviting. Of course, Corvey couldn't enjoy how much entering this room differed from the rest of the Peerless, which was like a cross between a military compound and a spa, because he had a bag over his head. Not just any bag, this was a torture bag, or a bag with a headset in it. Like two small cloth speakers, that played this loud tone in your ears. Desmond and Charlie had shown it to Vi and Ollie not long before the mission. He and Ollie had put it on to see how well it worked, and Vitale could attest, the thing made you near nauseous, you couldn't hear anything, and couldn't see. For Vi, it completely removed his sense of balance, which Desmond had said was the point. Without your equilibrium, you were vulnerable, and scared. He hadn't been scared, but only because he wasn't zip tied, and being taken by force. Corvey he imagined, was terrified. And Dez was helping to make it worse, by slamming him into the wall of every turn. So when they opened the door and he could see the glib, claustrophobic, dark and surprisingly accurate representation of what Davis had demanded as a brig, he was fairly impressed by Kyle, Luther and Del' Marco. The room looked absolutely morbid, and old. Hell, it didn't even smell of paint or freshness. Vi kind of felt like it was a shame that Corvey couldn't appreciate the effort put into his 'sense shocking', but, it was all part of the plan. But again, the room was rather condensed, and there was really no way to separate people, and though there were many other rooms they could duplicate, they didn't have the personnel to guard more men. Not that it really mattered, by the time this was all said and done, they might acquire enough prisoners to have too many, but then, they had an airlock, Davis could always make space.

Desmond practically 'throttled' their prisoner into his uncomfortable metal chair, and re-secured him, while Vitale reached over, and killed the torture mask's sound thing, nodding to Dez silently, to let him know they could be heard. Dez started immediately, "Alright Mr. Corvey, we've got a few questions for you. And you're going to answer them all." He started with the name, and it sounded kinda eerie, even to Vi. He logged that one, and committed it to memory for future usage. Dez yanked off Corvey's hood, and slung it aside, as though it were diseased from being on his head. Rather than let him answer out right to a question he hadn't yet been asked, Matheson went to work on his kidneys, bringing out the very best of punches determined to cause pissing blood.  Corvey looked ill, he was disoriented, and in pain, and for all intents and purposes, very surprised at his sudden climate change.  Dez gave his cue early, by backing off, and making grotesque comments about trophies and the like.

"Now Mr. Corvey, my friend here isn't as patient as I am." Vitale said, using his name like Desmond had, and trying to sound just as creepy. He looked into the man's eyes, and gave an expectant stare, as though it was Corvey's turn to speak, to agree to talk. Of course, it was way too soon for a twenty year man to turn on his own company, but then, it was all just steps in this dance. Desmond moved closer again, his next part of the tango, "Now Mr. Corvey, you and I are going to have a nice chat. You're going to answer our questions." Corvey spit in their combined direction, and said something in Chinese that was too incomprehensible to be translated, but the inflection was clear. Dez didn't even slow down enough to change facial expressions, he just started hitting the man, and with each hit, he seemed a little angrier. This turned from a few well placed blows to places that the body was naturally defended against, to several shots that would likely leave a bruise, and even one shot to the solar plexus, which could actually have killed the man, depending on how hard Matheson had hit him. Dez yanked him by the collar and drew him in tightly, and angrily adjusted the man's attitude, "Why don't we dope you up, then throw you to the wolves. See how you like getting reamed by men you don't know." Corvey closed his eyes and ignored everything, pulling towards that inner light that those trained to withstand interrogation reach for. Desmond had an answer for that, and picked the man up, chair and all, and flung him across the floor, sending him sideways to a stop, his head hitting the carpet-less panel underneath. Matheson was right back on top of him, his foot on the company man's already bruised kidney, and he taunted him again.

Vitale walked over calmly, and stood over the pair, Corvey was trying to keep his face serious, and in control, refusing to believe his situation was as bad as it actually was. So far, Vitale's only real orders, were to 'try' to extract information from the man. If they failed to accomplish that, then they'd had other rocks that they could kick over. Also, at the very least, they would have still upset the balance of order that Marcus Lee had put together. So if Dez really went overboard and killed the prick, then that would be "Too bad", but it wouldn't be game over. Vitale squatted down so low, that the backs of his thighs rested on the backs of his calves, and he had all his weight on his toes. He rested his elbows on his knees, and calmly, almost absently, wiped at his stubby facial hair, and he spoke so easily, he might have been asking about an old, fond memory. "You could just nod you know. It really doesn't have to be this way. All I want," Vitale purposely used the pronoun, "Is for you to tell me a few..." He mused silently, while Desmond put more pressure down, "Well. Nothing that would get you killed Mister Corvey. In fact, there is really no reason that you should have to die. I can keep you alive here. But, I need your help, you need to be more accommodating."

Vitale was emulating every criminal he'd ever seen at their most scary, most intimidating, most despairing looks and mannerisms. Usually, he was the hammer, doing what Dez was doing now. Here, today, he was in charge of the actual information extraction. Davis and he had talked about who would be the one to do this. Vitale had been shocked to find out he would be the speaker again after his SNAFU with Chevy.  But Davis had, had confidence in him to get the job done right, and that was oddly empowering, like encouragement from an older brother or something. But he had a good plan in his head, barring any unexpected issues or problems.

The prick gave him a smug look, and mouthed a curse, which was more than Vitale needed, and exactly what he expected. He sighed for show, but it was sold very well, and he looked up at Desmond, then nodded, and then stood back. Dez grinned like the devil, and raised his boot just high enough to pause and see the sudden fear in Patricio's face, before he brought his heel down hard, and snapped Corvey's head against the floor with a loud CRACK! He was unconscious as soon as the sound faded, and Vi tilted his head watching. He exchanged a glance with Desmond, and then said, "Check him." Dez double checked the prisoner's pulse at the neck, and then gave Vi a nod, and they both visibly relaxed. The mood changed in the drop of a hat, Vitale becoming his usual joking self, and he clapped Desmond on the shoulder with a smile. "What! Dude, you chucked his whole chair!"

Desmond joked back, and if anyone not in the know had been in the room, it might have confused them. As they smiled and began chatting about old fights that scars had long since healed from sheer time, a knock came from the door. Vi was still chuckling when Dez went to open it, expecting to see the Captain looking for a progress report. He looked back from the door saying, "Visitor!"

”Already? But he just got here,” He answered with a smirk, propping his right leg on the stainless steel leg of the chair Patricio was tied to.

"For you," He said, opening the door to reveal Officer Gunn. "We need to talk," She said subtly, but not so subtle that Desmond didn't take the hint. He walked out, still with a trail of humor following him. The crew was resilient to everything, if you could say nothing else about their little team, they were fucking tough.

Vi stared daggers into Keller as the door shut behind her.  He gave one more look to Corvey, to be sure of a steady, rhythmic breathing that indicated unconsciousness, and satisfied, he took his leg from the chair, and walked in a semi-circle from the middle of the room, Gunn doing the same, so that they were quite literally sharks, and each were the prey.  "Let's start with the truth I was promised."

"The main point is I'm not working with the feds, I wasn't planted here by anybody other than Onas, and I'm not trying to take down the Peerless." She answered, still circling with his slow steady stride.

"No," He answered so hard that the venom in his word was enough to draw blood, "The main point is that you are a plant. Who are you? No more games."

"My name was, is, Abigail Gunn... and I'm no longer a fed." She said it like it was almost the final answer. It was not.

Vitale nearly screamed, that tendency to shoot first and ask questions later creeping up his spine. "Last chance," He said, finally stopping, and turning towards her. His pistol in its holster, just begging to see who could cross draw faster. If it had been a movie, a tumbleweed would have rolled between them, and the tune would be playing right then. "You answer, or you die." When she hesitated a hare's breadth to long he added,

"No."

"More."

"Games."

[Deleted]

Dez blinked as Corvey's head hit the floor with a resounding CRACK! after a glance from Vitale and the other man wanting Dez to check Corvey, he felt for his pulse at the bastard's neck. A nod indicated he was still alive and and caused the mood to imediatly change from anger back to their usual joking attitudes. "What! Dude, you chucked his whole chair!" Vitale's comment couldn't help but make Desmond laugh himself, "Well what can I say? I had to scare him, when we wake him up from this he's gonna have a hell of a headache." He couldn't help but laugh again and nudge Corvey with his boot.

Dez and Vitale spent the next few minutes passing old war stories back and forth, comparing scars and fights they had been in. "OK, so we were entrenched just outside this forest during the war. This big idiot starts running at us screaming something about his mother. Next thing we know-" His story was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Every time I tell that story I always get interrupted" He said with a laugh, opening the door and seeing Keller standing there, telling him she needed to speak to Vitale. "Visitor!" He yelled into the room, opening the door and replying to Vitale, "For you." There was a second that passed between the two that caused Dez to leave the room and mumble something about checking something that wasn't awkward elsewhere on the ship.

Desmond looked around after the door closed behind him, then starting off toward the infirmary, he'd grab them some adrenaline to wake up Corvey. And maybe some snacks for him and Vitale. With any luck Jeri was cooking, or just finishing something delicious. Aside from being good, it might be something else that could annoy Corvey. Though chances were that Corvey was going to be in so much pain that the smell of food wouldn't even effect him at all, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. First things first however, the adrenaline. With that thought he sped up his pace slightly toward the infirmary, his thoughts already on the prospect of getting something to eat before he returned to work.

[Abigail Gunn]

As cliché as it may sound, some feelings had a temperature. Where as terror was cold and chilling and pricked the spine and skin, guilt, worry, and uncertainty were red hot. She felt like she was in a sauna internally while she escorted Rosalind and their rescue to the med bay. She didn't comment as to the heat she felt or fan herself in any acknowledgment of the rising temperature, though. She didn't imagine they'd be privy that it was anything other than her exertion in the field, but she didn't even want to crack the floodgates as to what was in her mind lest the whole thing crash down and swallow her whole. She'd been exposed enough for a lifetime in less than a ten minute span. She still almost felt like Vitale's rifle was marching her up the hallway, stiff and rigid like a soldier made out of tin, and that reflected in her expression. She was trying to maintain a deadpan face, a stark contrast to her normal tone of liveliness, but she knew she most likely looked pensive already. Luckily, Rosalind had that sort of distance that professionalism granted. For this situation, it was a blessing. They weren't close enough for a doting hand, and Rosalind wasn't the What's wrong, honey? kind of woman. Neither was Gunn, for that matter.

She naturally hadn't been the most conversational of their little band. It was quickly determined that the girl hadn't been violated, but Gunn could have guessed that by her gait. Forced entry was more damaging than a person might realize. It didn't matter if you were eight or eighteen, it was a violent act with painful repercussions for a victim anywhere near as aware as this girl. She had her pistol holstered, but she was absent her rifle. If Rosalind thought about it or even noticed, she didn't let on that she did. Still, the girl was no threat to them. Her presence as a body guard was a formality more than anything. Roger and Rosalind insisted upon an examination, which wasn't a bad idea---if the girl was bringing any pathogens aboard, they'd want to know about it. They would be trapped in the Peerless with her for the duration of their trip, after all. Her fears were getting the better of her. She didn't foresee any danger from the girl. What she did have, though, was Vitale out of her sight with the knowledge that he had.

Would Vitale take Roger aside while she was up here? Would he be expecting her to send a wave for some Alliance sting operation and crack before they could hash it out? They'd spoken, when they had, of her lack of love for sailing the black, but he might toss that out of the window along with every other sentiment they'd ever shared in their short friendship and think that her presence on the Peerless was by design. She'd been planted by Onas on the Peerless; in fact, the ship took her further from her goals on Persephone, but she had no reasonable right to make a complaint about it. She couldn't exactly say I don't want to be stuck on a ship just in case I find the evidence that makes me decide to blow your gorram head off during our next briefing, so she'd had to accept the order. Accepting orders was how she'd gotten herself into the position of a person that Onas left alone with him. She walked into his office armed all the time. When she wasn't doing that, she was getting to know his crew. She was learning their stories, and through them, their past, and through that... she hoped to connect the dots to her father. And when she did? When she could condemn Onas? She'd be writing Gunn was here in his gray matter. But, she wouldn't be leaving Persephone. Silenced gun or not, Siobhan would be out for blood, and so would an entire and very far-reaching organization.

Judgment day was putting a bullet through each of Knox's eyes and unloading the rest into his head in the sickest fucking head-destroying “smilie face” they'd ever seen, then downing cyanide pills with vodka. She didn't know why that struck her as the way she was going to kill her boss... but vodka was less time-consuming than self exploration.

He'd die smiling.

She had several years of work and promotion under the Syndicate's watchful eyes... she had, in fact become the Syndicate's watchful eyes---a pair of them, anyway. That was where she stood with Onas and his. Vitale had made it apparent he had no particular love for the caliber of people at the top, but he couldn't know her intentions. He wouldn't, until she made them clear, and she couldn't if Roger put her out an airlock before she had the chance. It was better if she talked to Vitale than it would be if they came to tie her into a chair on the other side of Corvey. Every second that went by, though, she expected Roger to walk in with some of the rippers and weapons. It didn't happen, but every passing moment built her apprehension because she felt there was a positive correlation between the time and the likelihood of Vitale rethinking his decision to be her personal juror.

By the end of Rosalind's examination, she thought she'd counted every cotton ball pressing against the glass of the canister that set on the counter. She'd excused herself rather abruptly. Ros had a gun, even if she looked like she'd be more comfortable using it as a book mark than a weapon. Ros was armed, the girl wasn't, and, in the unlikely event that she turn out to be formidable in any way someone who looked a mature twelve possibly could, she would just trust that Ros had the capability of neutralizing the threat.

She headed down to the brig. She had thought of going to her room, of pacing or taking her mind off the stress, but her feet made a beeline for it. Desmond and Vitale were in there with their new guest, and the interruption would be nothing if not highly suspicious. She didn't feel like she could afford to lose the time, and she certainly couldn't stomach waiting for Vitale to change his mind. Every second was a second Vitale could have been pulling Davis aside and clearing his conscience. When she rapped on the door, she felt like her heart hit her uterus when she heard Desmond's voice instead of Vitale's. Had he excused himself to tell their esteemed captain that they had a traitor aboard...?

”I need to see Vitale.” She couldn't even give the facade of mirth, but she hoped she didn't ooze tension, either.

”Ah.. well, you got time. We kinda KO'd our little buddy.” he'd grinned at her and she smiled in half-hearted reciprocation and full relief. Vitale was still in there, and Desmond was as friendly as he'd always been toward her. Nothing was amiss with Desmond, but it didn't calm her nerves: Vitale was still alone with his thoughts on the matter, so to speak.

Desmond glanced back into the room to call: ”Visitor!”

”Already? But he just got here,” Vi joked. It was good to hear him joke.

”For you.”

And Desmond opened the door to admit Gunn. Her expression went deadpan from the brief smile she'd faked for Desmond, her eyes drinking in the severity of Vitale's expression when they locked gazes. Desmond had about all he could stomach of their brief and obviously grave viewing of each other, and ducked out the door mumbling something about checking the whatever wasn't awkward upstairs.

”We need to talk,” began every dramatic holotape ever, but she really couldn't think of something else to say except for that tired line, and her throat felt constricted during every syllable of even that. The cliched lump in your throat that writers so loved to tip hates toward was more like two thumbs pressing in on the windpipe and desert sand sliding from palate to gullet. She was torn between keeping a hard exterior and feeling like she was going to gush every bad thing she'd done since she'd stabbed that boy with a pencil in kindergarten for slamming her hand in the classroom's toy box.

She felt pitiful. She felt apologetic. Like hell she was going to apologize, but... she had to do something, say something... and he was the focal point of those emotions. She only hoped that she could somehow find that way to articulate whatever she was going to tell him to garner his sympathy, or at the very least, his understanding. As far as what she was going to say... she really hadn't thought into it that far. For a final cliché? She was just going to pour out her heart and hoped something resonated. She was going to tell him everything, no holds barred, everything he asked and things he didn't. Maybe he'd know it was genuine, maybe he wouldn't, but the pieces were gonna fall where they would at this point.

He moved around toward her like a predatory animal, and she moved with him, watching him. She wasn't certain whether he intended to try to out draw her at this point, or lunge, or talk. He looked like a combination of all three intents in a maelstrom. As to which course of action would win out... well, they hadn't known each other that long.

”Let's start with the truth I was promised.” He cut straight to the heart of the issue, and she exhaled. He was staring hatred into her, but even so, he hadn't ratted her out. Not yet. That had to count for something, right?

”The main point is I'm not working with the feds. I wasn't planted here by anybody other than Onas. And, I'm not trying to take down the Peerless.”

”No,” his fury was reaching a crescendo with the single syllable. ”No, the main point is that you are a plant. Who are you? No more games.”

”My name was.. is, Abigail Gunn. And I'm no longer a fed,” Vitale was still circling, and she mirrored him. She couldn't keep from it. She didn't want him to have the upper hand, to get behind her. This kept it a conversation between equals... of sorts.

”Last chance,” he said. ”You answer or you die.” He didn't understand how difficult this was. This was something she'd kept close to her. Secrecy had been life for her. ”No. More. Games.” He looked like he was ready to draw on her... and she knew he wouldn't hesitate to squeeze the trigger if he did. She sighed, a quiet and despondent sound. She had to tell him. It wasn't enough not to shoot him, to protect him in combat... she had to tell him everything.

It wasn't an easy memory to even hold, much less repeat for someone else.

”Did you ever know your father, Vi?” She started, then dropped her eyes for a few heartbeats before looking back. His eyes were cold. She know those eyes. She knew that stare. She'd had that same gorram expression on her face before she'd pulled the trigger. That was distance, that was being miles away from the human being in front of you.

That was shooting a shadow, not a person, as if it was some husk of flesh that didn't have a soul. She'd exhausted her friendship card with Vitale getting to this conversation; he'd had more than ample time to make her impersonal to him. She was going to have to make him feel something, and that wasn't an easy thing to do for people like them.

”Well, I knew mine. And, I loved that man more than anything in the 'Verse. His name was Samuel Gunn. He worked on Bernadette my whole life, Alliance Interpol. My dad was my hero growing up. He took me fishing, hunting... he taught me how to shoot. He always worked months on end, infiltrating gangs. I can't even begin to tell you the stories that man had.” She looked down. She felt a stinging in her eyes, and a tugging in her chest. She blinked that emotion away and looked back into Vitale's eyes. She couldn't afford to break eye contact. Not right now, as hard as it was. ”He used to make me memorize the faces and names of enforcers for those people, and known “recruiters” for sex trafficking rings, just because he had either put them away or was about to try. Shit like that, all the time—that was my life. He always just... did whatever he had to, to keep me safe. It was like he thought he was cleaning up the 'Verse to make it better for me to live in, you know? We never had normal conversations, we didn't talk all the time or whatever, but we had our own thing, and it worked for us. Hell, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have joined the Interpol. My mom was a medical examiner, my friends were junkies and delinquents. It was because of him that I did the work, got the degree, and devoted my life to the Alliance Interpol.. Then my father was taken from me. He didn't just die, Vi, he suffered. He was murdered. And it... it wasn't an easy death.”

She inhaled deeply and exhaled, trying to calm her own heart. She blinked more rapidly than natural, and just regulated her breathing... never breaking Vitale's stare. She was looking for something in his eyes, for that familiarity and light to flicker again.

”So, hold up, you legitimately are a fed?”

”I was a fed. I'm not anymore. I couldn't stand working in that office with those... fucking pigs, not after they locked me out of the investigation... Vi, that was my father. That was my father, and they weren't gonna look, and they weren't gonna ask, and they did their best to keep me from it. What would you have done?” Her voice had gotten a little louder, a little higher, and a lot more strained, but she kept her emotions in line and her eyes on Vitale at all times, drinking in the subtlest twitch in his forehead. He was a good bluff when he needed to be, for a man who was all semi-masculine giggles and jokes most of the time. It was something they had in common.

She saw Vitale inhale deeply. He seemed to catch his breath, then he exhaled. She thought he was getting ready to draw, not taking a breath to make sure his aim was steady, but he inhaled again and spoke: ”That's sad, but what the hell does that have to do with this current situation? Feds die all the time.” She couldn't tell if he felt as hard as he was acting... but he hadn't drawn on her yet, and that had to count for something.

”You were a Colt boy. She likes leaving messages. You know what the word 'eviscerated' means? You ever seen a person disemboweled? Cut across the belly and guts dragged out of them and left to hang?” She rubbed her thumb across the lower portion of her abdomen, tracing an incision with her thumbnail before dropping her hand by her side again, working it into a fist and open absently, as if her hand was cramping from the gesture. ”He was eviscerated, and shot in the throat. When they found out I was investigating on my own, they changed the clearance on the files so I couldn't access them. They weren't investigating. They weren't trying to find the murderer. And, that's when I figured out they didn't wanna know. They didn't wanna solve the crime. They were crooked or cowards, and either way, it didn't sit well with me. So, I resigned, and I came to Persephone. I had reason to believe Onas Knox killed my father, and I was going to execute him.”

”But you've been with the Syndicate a few years now. Why haven't you made a move yet?”

She signed, and shook her head slightly. ”It ain't that simple. I had to work my way into the Syndicate. I was a ripper for most of that time, working on the floor. I had to climb the ladder, make friends, all that shit... and as I did, I found out that Onas eviscerates traitors and stomps them in the throat. He avoids killing feds. My father was shot in the throat, not stomped... and I just don't believe he was a traitor. That would imply he was working with Knox and... I just don't believe that. My father was a good man. A good, honorable person, and he would not have been in Knox's pocket.” She choked a little at this point, and just calmed herself, working her mind around the next part of what she needed to say. ”If Onas was going to kill him, he'd have just shot him... actually, he'd have had someone who actually -can- shoot do the shooting. Specialty kills he does himself. That's why he stomps their throat and doesn't shoot it. It's scarier if you leave a body without a bullet hole than a lot of chips in the floor all around the head from missing at point-blank range. If there's anything I learned as an investigator, it's that the details matter. My reports are full of inconsistencies, but he's the strongest lead I have... and it's not like I can just ask outright.”

”Knox kills people everyday. -I've- killed a lot of people, Raych... I mean, Gunn.”

She shook her head. ”He doesn't kill -my- father everyday. In case you haven't noticed... I'm not a bleeding heart humanitarian type. I care about -my- family. The people that -I- love. You know as well as I do that there's a business side and a personal side, and they don't mix. It doesn't matter if there's a dozen stiffs, I'm not going to remember one of their names in the morning if I don't have to.” She sighed, moving to sit on the side of Corvey's chair. The man was still out cold.

She couldn't tell what Vitale was thinking. She couldn't see past that hard as a rock facade he was wearing to the truth of what he felt and believed. She knew how he worked by association with her own mind... so she had to put faith in the fact that if he'd been going to draw at this point, he would have. She didn't see him crack, but he had to have, or they'd have been in a shootout and one or the other would have been joining Corvey in the floor and never getting up again.

”I know you have every reason to fear the feds, and especially the investigators, but I need you to trust me. I know that you're hearing me right now, or this would have ended a totally different way. I'm not here to bust you. I like you, Vi. I really do. I like you, Roger, Desmond, Lewis, Nate, Ros---the whole damn crew... but I really don't care what you guys do. I mean, I helped you kidnap some jackass, and I really don't care if you guys space him after he answers your questions. I just don't care.” She exhaled deeply, resting her elbows on her knees. This was exhausting. The entirety of the mission to clear the floors hadn't been so draining as this single conversation, and that fact was shown in the way her shoulders sagged downward. ”I came here because I was assigned here and I couldn't think of a logical reason to get out of it. I'd much rather get back to Persephone. Every minute I have with his crew is a minute to learn something. Every story they reminisce is one that might go back to my father. And when that happens, I will be there to put a bullet between that mother fucker's eyes. Vitale... I don't want anything bad to happen to you. And I'd never cause it. If you don't trust anything else about me, you can have faith in that.”

[Deleted]

Rache... Gunn, started talking finally. Real talk, not that crap she'd been shilling for the duration so far. The woman was testy, or at least, she seemed that way to him. Why come down here to him, if she was simply going to fence with him though, that part didn't make any sense at all, so Vitale naturally assumed that she needed the proper motivation. And, after a brief, but well displayed standoff, Keller did submit to a real, and thorough answer.

She started off with the simplest of questions, did he know his father? Well of course he didn't, but rather than sarcastically tell her to go stick it where the batteries don't... he just nodded. But then, she looked to make up her mind, and began to explain in earnest. She told him about her father, what it was basically like to grow up in a normal Core world family, for a government paid household, which in all honesty, was every orphan's wet dream. Her dad was a cop, so naturally, she'd become one too, which, made Vitale flinch, but not nearly so much as when she dropped the bomb that he'd been murdered. Still though, this didn't answer the how or why of it, and mostly, it didn't answer the heart of the matter. So he addressed it, the fact about her being a cop now, and on this ship. She of course denied it, but then, she would right? Like, if she were a cop, wouldn't the stupidest thing to do, be telling Vitale that while he had weapons and access to her person? Not that Kell.. Gunn, didn't have the unabashed ability to defend herself, but if she thought that Vi wouldn't put up one hell of a fight, she had another thing coming.

But it wasn't the story about the famed father figure that he'd never had that irked him, it was her question. She even asked twice. "What would you have done?” It really got him thinking, if he'd had a father, that he'd loved, and someone ended him brutally, what would he have done? When she went into his execution method, wow, that really got his attention. Vitale knew that Onas had a bad rap, but Baby Jesus, that crap was real? She was a cop, without a badge, gunning for his bosses' financier. Honestly, he should have been more upset, but Vitale found himself connected to this problem, and maybe it was that they had shared a few quiet moments, maybe it was the heat of battle not yet worn off. Maybe it was that he wished he knew her pain. Maybe he just had a crush on her, and wanted her to be here in the morning.

The plain fact was, she was telling him the whole truth. Had she have given him some glib response, that amounted to a hissy fit, and typical merc bravado, Vitale had intended to waste her. But in two or three minutes, this woman had managed to tag several of Vitale's personal weaknesses. She'd hit his mind where his walls weren't so high, or strong. He honestly started to feel bad for her.

He was drifting.

”That's sad, but what the hell does that have to do with this current situation? Feds die all the time,” Vi said harshly, almost to shock himself as much as her.

Then, it got worse. The poor guy had suffered the legendary death that wasn't suppose to be more than fairytales. She'd told him about it in the bay that night they'd kissed, but he hadn't really faced anything like it before. Sure sounded right and all, but still, there were other issues too. For instance, if she were telling the truth, then how did she explain the next problem with her story;

”But you've been with the Syndicate a few years now. Why haven't you made a move yet?”

She did have answers, for all of it. Wanting Knox, the wait to get him, the dig deep into cover, and the double life she now seemed to embrace. The problem was, when she finished, was it enough to put a stop to what his head told him had to be done? She'd appealed to his sense of self worth, and trust, which honestly, were not his strong suits. But he could put himself in her shoes, she had solid reasons to keep herself very near her target, and yet, not enough to kill him honorably.

"Ok," He said as she finished up. Vitale backed off, and leaned against the wall, 'lowering his weapons' via crossing his arms. "So take your time, while we have it," He nodded to Corvey's unconscious ass, "And take me through it, step by step." And she did, step by step. This went on for nearly twenty minutes, until at last, they had to stop. But before Vi said anything, he thought over what he'd learned.

It was oddly familiar. How many innocents had she killed to even get close to he target? Because to Vitale, the answer was none. In his underworld life, he'd only killed a handful of innocent people, and only one was intentional. As an infantryman for the Self Righteous Alliance, he'd killed hundreds. But then again, it was hard to call anyone in the underworld innocent. Even if she couldn't kill Onas for her father's murder, the man should legitimately be shot for hundreds, if not thousands, of others. And though Vitale didn't know the extent of what the Syndicate pulled in each year, to be able to fund this pet project known as Peerless, it must have been substantial. So, there was also the theft aspect. But, then.

These were all reasons for like, her father to kill Onas, or for like, Davis to kill him. Honorable people. Not folk like Tali' or Gunn here. They didn't have honor. They had power. Which was the natural yang side of this circle of life. Perhaps it came second, but it was of equal value. Her dad had just had honor, she just had power, what they needed to make this call accurately, was a man with both.

They needed Davis.

Vitale looked at the man tied to the chair that Gunn was resting on, he was beginning to show signs of life, his breathing was becoming labored again, Vitale surmised another four minutes or so before he awoke. "Here's what I say, Gunn. You have to tell Davis this." She tried to argue immediately, but Tali' explained. "And on a normal day, I'd agree with you, and my opinion wouldn't matter. But so long as I hold cards in this game, it does. I know what you're sayin', and I agree,none of us have known the man long, but he's been fair, and he seems to walk on a different soil. I kind of think of him as an older brother or something. Besides," He said, nodding to Corvey, "We are out of time for this anyway."

Vitale stepped closer to Gunn, and reached out his hand, "Talk to Davis. As for me, I don't have a reason not to trust you, or at the very least, despite all this, you haven't given me a reason not too. So this is my choice. I've got your back until you legitimately do something wrong, not just intend to do something wrong. Because at the end of the day, you haven't yet done anything." She accepted his hand in friendship, and he added again, "But take this to Davis. We need to sort it ASAP."

Corvey moaned as if on cue, and Vi went over and shoved his bag back over his head, then turned back to Gunn, "We'll talk about this soon though huh?" He nodded to her, then as she opened the door to leave, Vi flipped the chair back on its four legs, and then jackslapped Corvey. Desmond entered before the door shut, and they were on again, just like that.

[Deleted]

Dez made his way to the infirmary and explained why he needed the adrenaline, Ros providing him with a few syringes. After shoving them into his right cargo pocket, he started off toward the kitchen. Jeri was there making food, a steaming plate of donuts still sitting on the table. Jeri, look what's that?!" He stated pointing as he poored himself a cup of coffee, when Jeri went too look he stuffed a donut in his mouth whole and then grabbed the plate of donuts, before turning and heading straight for the brig again, stopping only to grab an ice pick and put it in his cargo pocket as well. Despite all the time he took to get there, Keller and Vitale were still talking, he decided to wait by the door and drink his coffee and eat a few more donuts, trying hard not to listen.

Finally Keller left and Dez nodded at her, offering her a donut, then returned to the room, setting the plate of donuts on the floor. His coffee cup joined the plate after he took another drink. "OK, back to the grindstone." He popped his knuckles and went to Corvey, looking at the man with the hood on his head again. He'd even been set back up on all fours, that was good. This meant that he'd be able to knock his ass over again. Maybe Corvey would give him the reason to do it. "Alright Vi, let's see if we can get him to talk. Maybe I'll try using my knife this time."

Dez punched Corvey in the stomach hard, yanking the hood off and hitting him with a right hook. "Awww, did baby have a nice nap? He still looks tired. Maybe we should play a bit more, what do you think?" He cast a glance back at Vitale, then drew his knife and placed it right under Corvey's sternum. "I got a new toy for him, think he'll like it?" He pushed the knife in lightly, not fully going through the muscle, but still sinking in a bit. With a twist of his wrist he spun the knife so the blade was at Corvey's sternum.

Glancing back at Vitale again, who was now drinking his coffee, he gave his best sadistic grin. "Think I can slice through his sternum? By the way, that's my coffee and I'm pretty sure I backwash." He stated, sliding the knife up and pressing it against Corvey's sternum, he put more pressure on pushing the blade up. "Petricio, you don't mind if I call you Petricio do you? I really hope you don't answer any questions, cause, then you get left with me. And I'll make sure you stay alive, in massive pain, but alive."

[Abigail Gunn]

There it was. She felt like she'd scaled a mountain, like every breath she took was absorbing less and less oxygen into her lungs. It was a surreal moment when she felt light-headed, where she felt like her pulse throbbing in the sides of her neck and thumping in her ears should have been echoing throughout the room. She had never, ever told her story to another human being. The only person who knew... really knew.. was the officer who'd given her the file on Onas Knox. And, the file on herself.

The man who made her, so to speak.

She hadn't breathed any easier just because Vitale had crossed his arms. He was putting his life in her hands, then. He was putting precious seconds between himself and his guns, seconds that gave her an advantage since she tended to talk with her hands. She was seconds from shooting him. It would have been the easier if not the most moral option. But, she hadn't. She'd put her life on as a show for him, and at the end, the waiting was killing her. She was waiting for his judgment of her. On some level... for redemption. She wondered if he would pardon her crimes, or if she was truly incorrigible---that is, bad beyond all hope of salvation. She cared about that acceptance or rejection, perhaps more than she'd cared about a single response before this point.

”Here's what I say, Gunn,” he began, emphasizing the name with his voice. She wasn't certain if he was trying not to call her Keller or just reminding himself that she wasn't who he'd thought. Either way, what he said was a cliffhanger: ”You have to tell Davis this.”

”Vi... If Davis goes to Onas with this, he will put a hit on me. Siobhan and whoever else she's been training will come to finish me off. I haven't known Davis long enough to give him those kind of cards on me, Vi.” She wasn't going to live a life watching for someone to abandon a briefcase or waiting to pass out from every meal and wake up in Siobhan's vindictive hands. Truthfully, she hadn't known Vi long enough, either. Something about him came off as genuine---ironic, considering she'd seen him lie seamlessly to a guard before splattering his brain on the wall. One-to-one, Vi was an alright guy. Davis seemed to be, too. He seemed to be genuinely interested in what he thought was right. And if Vi couldn't give her a clear answer on right when he'd had her back in getting Corvey, she sure as hell had doubts about what Davis would consider right.

”And on a normal day, I'd agree with you, and my opinion wouldn't matter. But so long as I hold cards in this game, it does.” She worked her jaw and dropped her eyes, breathing out a little mirthless laugh. So that was the game. In so many words, if you don't tell Davis, I will. She had been afraid he would do it without her, but she'd hoped she could tie off this loose end with Vitale and make some excuse as to how perturbed he'd been earlier. ”I know what you're sayin', and I agree,none of us have known the man long, but he's been fair, and he seems to walk on a different soil. I kind of think of him as an older brother or something. Besides, we're out of time for this anyway.”

She glanced over to the groggily stirring guest. What a hell of a subliminal barrage he just got. Maybe he'd wake up thinking he was Abigail Gunn on a quest for revenge. That would be a kick in the ass, wouldn't it?

She caught his movement in her periphery, her eyes darting to him instinctively. He had extended his hand toward her, a gesture of compassion and camaraderie that she really wasn't expecting. "Talk to Davis. As for me, I don't have a reason not to trust you, or at the very least, despite all this, you haven't given me a reason not too. So this is my choice. I've got your back until you legitimately do something wrong, not just intend to do something wrong. Because at the end of the day, you haven't yet done anything." She considered his words for a moment, then gripped his forearm, and he reciprocated. She felt a little lighter at heart for the gesture, but far from light... as if she was shouldering the sky and she had a moment's relief. It wasn't much, but it was nice to have. ”But take this to Davis. We need to sort it ASAP.” Easy for him to say when she might be getting sorted into the airlock file.

But no. There was no bad intent in Vi for her, and she could see that. He had every confidence that there would be a later for her, and he'd be seeing her in it.

It made her want to believe the same.

”I'll go to Davis. Just... don't say anything until I do. It will be better coming from me... just, have a little patience. This whole... crew mate shit is harder than you're making it look.”

She gave him a half-hearted smile and released his arm, glancing back to Corvey for a moment.

”Go for the fingernails if he gives you trouble. Most men think the privates really hurt, but you slice the bridge of the nose in half and start prying fingernails, and they learn to appreciate the sensation in the rest of the body.” She commented thoughtfully, then moved to the door.

This was hard, but at least one person had her back... not as Rachel, either. As Abigail. And that... was a feeling she had almost forgotten.

It was nice to be reminded.

[Deleted]

Vitale stripped off what armor he was wearing still, and set it in the open cupboard of a cart in the room, then removed his Walther and holster, and re-strapped it to his shoulders. It was a little hot in here. Then, he flipped on the lights, which gave a considerable change to the room. They may have been, too bright, but Vi supposed that would only help. You go from being knocked out in a dim room, to being thrashed in a bright room, may screw with your brainpan. Which, would only help them tonight. It was night right? Desmond came back in with some food, which was just one more bizarre thing for the idea of the 'Middle of the Night'. Was it night anymore? Did these concepts even matter in space? Technically, for the crew, it was a myriad of time zones, but predominantly speaking, it was after one a.m. for them all. So why did they have what smelled like fresh donuts and coffee? Vi added it to the growing list of crap on his mind that would likely serve only to distract him. Somewhere in the back of his head, he figured out the most likely reasoning just on subliminal autopilot, Jeri had told him that she liked to cook to relieve stress, and watching the majority of the people who you just spent a week trying to befriend walk into a potentially deadly firefight, may well cause stress. He logged it in that same part of his brain to go and have a word with her after he was done with this prick.

Speaking of this prick.

"OK, back to the grindstone." Desmond said, almost sounding as though he'd been looking forward to this day. Which was good, that's what they needed. "Alright Vi, let's see if we can get him to talk. Maybe I'll try using my knife this time." Dez yanked the freshly place hood right back off of Corvey's head, and started in with both punishment, and insults. Then he drew his knife, and placed the tip against one of the human body's sweet spots, and turned with a question for Vi. "I got a new toy for him, think he'll like it?" Desmond was so calm all the time, Vi'ed instructed the gunsmith to really get into character for this, and he really had. Vi liked to think that if he'd been in that chair, that he'd have covered his pants in la shi by now.

Vitale had been standing there watching it all with folded arms, and when Dez slowed to ask him his opinion, Vi simply sighed, and reached down to pick up his partner's coffee, then stood to face the two, and took a sip. Some creamer, not really enough, and plenty of sugar. Not bad. "I don't know. How much blood does he really need? I mean he's got so much on his hands, he may not even feel the loss." Vi said, a look of overencompising disgust on his face.

"By the way, that's my coffee and I'm pretty sure I backwash." Desmond said, looking back at Vi. Vitale had only been half listening to his counterpart in truth. He had already been wondering if Gunn had gone straight to the Captain, or if he would have to make her. That would just make a bad situation worse, but he'd do it if he had too.

To say he'd be brought back in on that note would be an understatement. To be perfectly honest, Vi hadn't even realised he was taking someone else's drink, he hadn't had those concepts much in his own life. He gave a little flinch of his nostrils, and continued drinking the hot beverage regardless, then leaned against the door. "I say you just kill him, guy sounds about as informative as a mute. Not great for business." He wasn't sure if it was the overall lack of concern for his health, or the general dismissive attitude displayed about his continued beatings, but Corvey looked to break a bit more under the weight of knowing that this coffee's possession, was more substantial than his own life.

"Petricio, you don't mind if I call you Petricio do you?" Vitale silently cursed, he'd wanted to use that same line, oh well, you snooze, you lose. "I really hope you don't answer any questions, cause, then you get left with me. And I'll make sure you stay alive, in massive pain, but alive."

Corvey broke enough to talk, which, as this was going, was fast progress. He was a twenty year man or something like it. He worked for the equivalent to a defence contractor. This was the modern spy. Spy's don't break easy, civilian, or government. "Whatever you two want, I won't he..." Whatever he was going to say, Desmond didn't care. A swift uppercut to his jaw, shut the prick right up.

Vitale talked again while Corvey chewed on his own blood. "See Patty," He called him Patty, "No one here is interested in your crap. We have some things you could," Vi looked away for a second, thoughtfully, "Help with. Not much more really. And besides, the sands are already pouring against you, so when you're ready to talk, you go right ahead and tell me something I can use." Corvey gave him a look that could easily be translated ask 'Ask me,' but the never did say it. Dez had raised his hand in a fist, and Corvey closed his eyes and braced himself. But Vi gave a little 'tsk tsk' noise towards the man. "You know, you surprise me. You really do. A man who imprisons women for profit, you'd think you'd never been socked in that glass jaw before. I already told you Corvey, you have a way out. I just want, one, single file and it's contents, and if it is what I want it to be, then not only will you live, but you will walk off this ship."

Corvey paid attention to that. "What do you want Joroba?" Joroba? What the hell was that? And why did all these Cobalt boys speak in crap languages? What's wrong with the primaries? Vi noted it in his head for discussion with Davis.

Vitale picked up himself a donut, and looked it over, then, he looked at Corvey, "I want to know the operational details of codename Benzene Sire, or, file four, three, eight, one, one, dash one four." Vitale leaned to the cart he'd put his armor in, and set down his acquired coffee, and clicked a recorder on, for show. "Begin."

Corvey looked vexed. Of course he didn't know anything about that. That's why it had been chosen, and so specific. It didn't exist. Actually, on the off chance that it had existed, he really had a recording device here, and someone would have paid for the intel, but honestly, what were the odds? "We don't have anything by that.. I don't know this file."

Tali' pretended not to believe him, and gave a little sigh of irritation. "I have the time for this Patty, you don't... but. If you insist." He gave the go ahead to Desmond by extending his open hand in a gesture that said, 'Go ahead'. Vitale took a bite of the donut to keep from laughing at the horrified expression of the poor, pitiful, woman slaver in the chair. He was humped, and he knew it.  They hadn't given him much of a chance to do anything for himself, and they wouldn't either, not until it was assured that he understood that amongst these people, his life was worthless.  When he was convinced that these two simply enjoyed hurting him, Vi would allow him to talk, because when he was up against the wall, with nowhere to go, they would be able to question him and get the truth.

And let's be honest.  Who didn't want to swing on a slaver now and then?

[Deleted]

Dez looked over at Vi and pretended to think about the answer for a few moments. "Well, the average human can lose a total of... forty percent of their blood before any adverse side effects kick in." He turned back to Corvey and twisted the knife again. A small smile spread across his face, "Oh, I'm all for killing him, he needs to hurt more though... Think we can shove a wrench up his ass? He might get a better understanding about what he puts those women through after that." Turning back to Corvey, he shrugged and punched the man in his new knife wound.

"See Patty," He called him Patty, it was Desmond's turn to silently swear, he wanted to use that line. Oh well, he'd find something else to say later. "No one here is interested in your crap. We have some things you could... Help with. Not much more really. And besides, the sands are already pouring against you, so when you're ready to talk, you go right ahead and tell me something I can use." Dez turned back to Vi after he made his comment about getting socked in the jaw, a cruel smile crossed his face and he clenched his already bruised knuckles into another fist. "Well, I'll just have to make up for lost time won't I?" He punctuated his question with another strike to Corvey's solar plexus.

Joroba? The hell did that mean? Desmond decided to ask, with a right hook to the man's face. "English or Chinese you Yi Dwei Da Buen Chuo Roh." After this the gunsmith let Vitale talk to Corvey for a while, Dez silently nursed one of his knuckles behind his back, he thought it might be broken. That just gave him more reason to want to end this whole mess with Corvey that much sooner. Maybe he could turn that into some more anger and really lay into him this time.

Desmond was given the go ahead, which caused him to smile. This was going to be the best part of this whole thing for him. "Oh, I'm so glad I get some more time with you boy." Pulling his knife out again, he started this by simply carving a small cut just above Corvey's left eye, nothing bad. But it would bleed a lot, this seemed mild now, but it would all come into play later. In the mean time he brought the pommel of his knife, which was desined to function like a hammer, down onto Corvey's knee. There was a resounding CRACK and Corvey started to scream in pain. But was stopped by a perfect punch to the face.

Sliding the knife back home into it's sheath, he pulled the ice pick from his cargo pocket and held it up for Corvey. "See, I get that you were taught to resist torture, that's why I brought this. I was taught to do this with bamboo, but none was handy, so an icepick will work." He went around to the back of the chair and let Corvey look up at Vitale. With that he gripped the man's right hand and slid the tip of the icepick under the man's fingernail. "Three, two, and one!" A deft movement later, and the icepick slid all the way to the base of the fingernail. Then, with another yank, the fingernail flew off and up, landing on Corvey's lap.

Only after four more fingernails were removed did Desmond walk back around to face Corvey again. "Well well well, feel like talkin' yet?" The gunsmith started wailing on Corvey again, a punch to the solar plexus, jaw, any organ he could reach. Even a single open palmed strike to Corvey's chest, just hard enough for the man to realize where and how he'd been hit. Then he decided to end this round, with a single uppercut. Corvey's wrists pulled against his zipties, then he fell limp again. Only after poking him with the icepick a few times, did he replace the hood over the man's head and turned it back on. "...I think I've broken my knuckles." He muttered to Vitale, looking at his bloody and bruised hands.

[Deleted]

One uppercut was, as it turned out, all it took to turn their boy's lights out. Vitale watched with a mix between fascination, and fear. Desmond was a scrapper, that was for sure. Vi liked to know that he could handle any of their crew if they stepped out of line. With the exception of Lewis, he'd been pretty sure he could retain any out of control tempers. But Desmond here must have had an anvil for a fist, because he just knocked Corvey out at will, whenever he chose. Lewis was a giant pussycat, but if ever got it into his head to do something brash, Vi had supposed he'd just have to shoot the beast. Could anyone even imagine fighting a guy like that? Just a mountain of muscle, and nothing but energy to burn. Vi had taken to working out with him in the mornings as per Kell.. Gunn's suggestion, to get to know him, and the guy was far stronger than his peers. But Desmond had a fist that likely knock him down.

"...I think I've broken my knuckles." Dez muttered looking his hands over.

"So much for a glass jaw, huh?" Vi joked, "Move your pinky finger like this," He offered, and demonstrated. After a successful mirror, Vi added two other motions to go through, and then announced that his hand couldn't be broken. Bruised was almost a guarantee.

Along the lines of what he should do with Corvey, Vitale had to admit that the guy was now in pretty bad shape. Really, they didn't have time for this. Vi was on a timetable as much as his boss. Any potentially damning knowledge that this guy was in possession of would likely be taken into account, and steps of precaution would be taken to ensure that no blowback would follow his abduction. To accomplish this goal, continual unconscious states were necessary, to break up his week, and help the man lose all track of time. With some convincing acting on his own and Desmond's part, they could then convince the man that there was no hope of rescue, and that they didn't really need him anymore, and in that direction, that he really was his own lifeline. Vitale had been working on that plan for two days before they touched down on Santo, and so far, all was going very well.

Still. The human body could only take so much punishment before it was gone. Tali' wrapped on the door and conversed with Desmond while they waited. "We'll hand him over to Ros for the night, but tomorrow, don't black him in the first two rounds. He was definitely scared today, so I'm thinkin we're on the right track. Gonna try to ferret some intel out of him in the morning. See what happens."

Del' Rio opened it up, a M1A rifle in his hands, "What's up Vi?"

"Nuthin. Take our guest up to see the Doc, and keep his hat on him. Davis doesn't want him to get a look at the Peerless under any circumstances. Tell her not to let him recover as much as possible, we just don't want him dead. We don't want him fixed up yet." Vi instructed as he stepped aside and scratched absently at his neck.

"Shiney, consider it done bud." Rio said walking past him.

"Preciate ya."

"Jeri came by to offer up a late dinner/early breakfast if anyone is hungry. And Dez, the number four cycled like you wanted, I left the diagnostics on your door."

Vi waited for the guys to come in and pick up their 'guest' and remove him, then offered his partner a way out the door, so that he was the last to leave. Maybe an hour in this room, and already, Tali' had felt like it had been a month. That was a lot to digest in such a short time. He left the room behind and trucked it up the stairs to the main level, and then went to the galley, both for that bite to eat, and also, just to speak with Jericho. Between them, he was the more likely one to actually need to just sit down and BS, and she was as good a companion as any. She did look somewhat stressed when he caught up to her, and they spoke for a few minutes before he asked if Davis had been through. She'd said that Keller had, and that she'd been looking for him as well, so on that note, he just sat down, and enjoyed real eggs and bacon.