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Aberrant: StarGate Atlantis - S1: E5 - Inflitration


Dawn OOC

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The call to assemble came late in the morning, and by mid-afternoon, the team was tromping into the briefing room. They’d all had time to get used to their new powers; some had adapted better than others. Play-time was over though; it was time to get out into the field and see what they could do.

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Weir waited until Bates’s team was all seated before she started to talk. “Rabous is one of the Althosians, living on the continent. He was visiting a planet named Kastar when he was approached by a woman. She was very… friendly with him and he realized after a time that she was pumping him for information on Atlantis. Specifically, how to get there.”

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“Someone’s been talking.” Bates sounded annoyed.

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“Yes, and we need to know who.” Weir glanced around the table. “The fact that Atlantis’s location is a secret does a lot to keep us safe. The fact that many don’t even know about us is an even better safeguard. The fact that someone knew to target the Althosians for that information is troubling. I want this team to dress as Althosians and try to find out who is behind his and how much they know. Questions?”

“What do we know about Kastar?” Bates asked. It was the obvious question.

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“It’s a… party-planet.” Weir frowned at her laptop. “That’s the way that Rabous described it – it seems that the inhabitants are always looking for a reason to celebrate. He wasn’t even sure how it operated – who provides the food and drink and so on.”

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“BYOB,” Yseult suggested with a smirk. “They provide the planet and the party, everyone else brings the booze and snacks.”

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“Perhaps,” Weir said. “Any other questions?”

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Curtis blinked after Weir begain explaining the nature of their mission. A hedonistic planet - where they would have to pass themselves off as Althosians and probably engage in all sorts of loud, ridicious excesses to keep their cover. Why couldn't Weir just order him to walk out an airlock in space? It'd be quicker and less painful.

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With a small groan, he found himself asking questions anyway. "Climate and weather? Any sort of government or at least some kind of law and order organization? And your words give me the impression that there is a brisk tourism stream to Kastar... from how far, the entire Pegasus galaxy?"

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Some would have guessed a party planet would be right up Evana's alley and she'd already be rushing off to her quarters to find what she was going to wear. She already caught a few of the glances her way when it was first mentioned and managed to keep a straight, stoic face. It was comforting to know she was going to venture some place more tailored to her personality, but work was still work. She didn't know much about Athosians, aside from they all sounded like some sort of weed one finds in woods usually populated by gingerbread houses with candy awnings.

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"Out of curiostiy," Her thick accent rose up after Curtis was done asking his questions. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and resting her hands on her abdomen. "Can I even pass for an Athosian? My... genetic markers I think Goro called them, makes it difficult for me to blend with a crowd. Do a bunch of farmers, traders and hunters normally have hair this color? I've yet to see any."

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"While your condition is, unique, Captain Evana," Weir had such an eloquent way of way of phrasing 'you're a freak' and Evana was thankful for her tact. "Your... particular skill set..."

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"I'm a promiscuous party girl?" She helped the good Doctor out, it was the least she could do. Finally, she cracked a mischievous grin only slightly soaked in pride. Admittedly she enjoyed watch Weir squirm a bit. She admired how Weir was able to get in any one's face fearlessly when the situation demanded it. Right now however was not that time and it amused her to see how Dr. Weir tap danced around 'well, you're the only slut we have around here, so you're in' without actually saying it.

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The grin is what gave it away and Weir saw that Evana was having some fun with her. "You're being modest." Weir's sarcasm and quick wit raised a few snickers from around the table to which Evana's smile only broadened. "In truth, no I don't think you match any Athosian, but you do look," She tried to tip toe and finally just came out with it. "Alien. And it's not uncommon for aliens to associate and trade with the Athosians. Since we all know dyes won't hold on your hair, it's the only alternative we have. Let's attempt a hood or cowl and a well thought out background to back it up, hm? A diplomat or consort. Then we'll worry."

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"Aye, aye." She was already entering in notes on her data pad, satisfied with her answer.

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There weren't really any blond Athosians, either, but it didn't occur to Inoae to point this out. If there was an issue with her ability to perform for the team, Captain Bates would tell her. He would probably even tell her how to fix it, which was still a surprise to her on most days. She was anxious about leaving the hive, but this was what the training she'd been given was for. The team would go, find this man that was trying to learn too much about their hive, learn what he knew and who else was looking for them, and....kill them? That is what her old hive would do, but this one seemed strangely reluctant to kill. Even with so many weapons and so much training devoted to it. A paradox, like most of the hive.

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She didn't dwell on her thoughts. They were unimportant, especially in the presence of the queen.

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Outwardly, the waif refugee seemed different from just a few weeks before, even putting aside the strange changes all of them had undergone. It was difficult to pin down to a particular thing: she still was mostly silently, definitely diffident, and just a touch creepy when she stared at you with those ocean-blue blank eyes. She was sitting quietly in a chair next to Bates, though, and had done so without being prompted from trying to sit on the floor at someone's feet; her clothes fit a little more snugly to her, the curve of muscle adding a toned line to her still slight frame. While she didn't meet the eyes of anyone there, she did look around occasionally, quick scans of the room that lacked the aimless, confused wanderings that had marked her earliest interactions with the Atlantis Expedition. She didn't seem normal, but she did seem a leap ahead on functional.

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"What are the regulations, if any, on carrying weapons, and what would be the most common seen?" It was the quiet warrior's jub to see that they were defended. "Not that I expect any real trouble, but it helps to be prepared. "Are we going in as merchants, and if so, are we buying or selling, and what?"

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"It's a pleasure planet." Bannon said in a dry tone that somehow managed to convey disdain. "Therefore it is reasonable to assume that lethal weapons will not be permitted to guests. I wouldn't worry, though. I'm sure a three-pound sex-aid will prove quite a fine sap in a pinch." He was rapidly developing a foul mood. "The captain there has probably killed men with the bottom-drawer contents of her carry-on bag, so you can ask her for pointers on technique."

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"Feeling a little waspish today, Doctor?" Evana inquired brightly.

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"Some nameless blue-haired trollop decided to leave what I believe is called 'chick lit' laying around in my lab." Bannon waved 'Confessions of a Shopaholic' at Evana before tossing it at her. "The next time you're catching up with your remedial reading, do it elsewhere. In fact, just stay out of my laboratory space."

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"Someone's got to keep an eye on you to make sure you're not planning to poison us all in our sleep, Banny." Evana fielded the flying novel and tucked it away, smirking at the androgyne. "And I've already read this one. I just thought that perhaps it might help bring out your feminine side. What did you think?"

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"I didn't read it, though I was surprised at the lack of pictures in anything you read."

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"IF we can please get on with this?" Bates grated over them both. The two perennially-bickering members of his team fell silent, each leaning back in their chair and smirking at each other. Bates wished they'd quit it, already. Or else get a room, though probably only one of them would leave in that case. He wasn't sure if it was sexual tension or just the fact that the two struck big, flaming sparks from each other. What he was sure of was that it was beginning to not be amusing anymore. Sometimes.

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"Very well, though I question the utility in having me play secret agent at a permanent planet-wide fraternity party."

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"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Bannon," Yseult snorted with a smirk, "This is a party planet, non? Most likely, there are drugs around, maybe being used to manipulate others to reveal things about us. And you're our resident expert on drugs and chemicals. Plus, you might find someone to pull that stick out of your ass and replace it with one you'll enjoy more."

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Okay, that might have been a bit mean, but Yseult was hardly disappointed with someone else being the butt of jokes and comments about their gender. She had put up with it just because she ended up taller, more muscular, and more aggressive than most women, at least there was no doubt as to her real sex. Bannon even smelled like a woman... mostly. He also sort of stilled smelled like a man, which confused her sense of smell.

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In the last month, she had well learned that scent triggered responses and instincts a great deal more than sight and hearing did , however acute. It was like once being blind and now being able to see, an entirely new sense. Coupled with a heightened libido as bad or worse than anything during her teen years, it could get bad at times.

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And with Evana looking inhumanly hot nowadays, Inoae adding some definitely tone, and the pretty-and-even-more-of-an-asshole Bannon being one of the few men on Atlantis with the stamina to actually go most of the distance with her, Yseult was also feeling experimental urges from her teen years while at gymnastics camp. Party planet sounded just fine to her. Since she didn't sleep - couldn't sleep - she'd have plenty of time to deal with those looking for Atlantis and to take care of her own needs. Ford wasn't enough - and she thought she was starting to scare him - and she was running through the Athosians pretty fast.

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"Weapons shouldn't be a problem, most of the Athosians carry knives, and it's not like we even really need them, non?" Yseult said to the room at large, smirking. With her dark hair and tanned complexion, she could pass easily enough for an Athosian, though she'd have to work at the accent. "As for the pretense of why we are there, why, the Athosians have that Ruus Wine, pretty decent stuff," the large woman suggested. Though it can't get me drunk anymore - nothing seems to even give me a buzz. "If they have a stock of the stuff we can requisition, we have our in."

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“We have some Ruus wine to offer and we have some sweets in our food stores that can be used as bartering materials.” Weir nodded to Yseult. “If you all are wondering why your team is going, it’s because the Kastari have a large amount of recreational substances against which you have all shown to have higher resistances. Regular medicines are currently not working on any of you. Which is another thing – ladies, if any of you have contraceptive implants, please assume that they’re not working right now.”

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Weir ignored the fidgeting men and began to provide answers. “The climate is much like the southern Mediterranean, so dress for summer. Their trade seems to be largely in narcotics, so you’re dealing with a planet of drug dealers. Weapons are frowned upon, but our Althosian who was there says everyone is carrying concealed weapons.” She glanced at Ayato. “I’d prefer that you just take the wine, and do not bring any drugs back to Atlantis unless it’s under Dr. Bannon’s supervision.” As the white-haired knockout nodded with pleasure at the first bit of sensibility he’d heard in a long time, she added, “If you see something useful for us to add to our chemical laboratory, please feel free to barter for it with the wine and Pegasus chocolate.” The latter was the name for the chocolate substitute that one of the botanists had created after the last of the Herseys were gone. It didn’t quite taste like chocolate but it was close enough for now.

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“Any other questions?”

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I’m giving one more week for questions about the mission before it starts, so get them in now.

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Ayato nodded. He never went anywhere totally unarmed, unless actually Ordered to do so, so a plethora of hidden blades would be his weapons of choice this time it seemed. He seemed abit more at ease compared to the emotional states of everyone else, and waited only to hear any further information the others might ask for.

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Curtis' eyes bored a noiseless, precise yet deep hole in the wall, at a point behind Weir and several inches to the left of her ear. One planet of intoxicant swilling, boundary disrespecting, drug dealing inhabitants (that probably could give the great Roman arrangers of orgies - orgy-nizers? - a stroke) - plus by logical extension, hordes of junkies and tourists looking 'for a bender.'

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And of course, the only reason he would be dispatched for such a mission - aside from his technical talents in the unit - was predicated on the basis that he could consume prodigious quantities of 'booze' and 'blow' without impairment. Universe forbid they decide to push him towards acquisition within the category of 'booty.'

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Excesses that Staff Sergeant Curtis Shane never indulged in, save for the occasional and most certainly moderated consumption of some alcohol. Therefore, it was essential he have with him his concealed Apollo pistol (or as some crudely referenced its Goa'uld genes, the Zat-Blaster), Triton-Weave clothing in such obviously lawless and disorderly locations... and to maintain privacy in their lodgings with his equipment for the maximum possible duration of their investigation.

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For once, Curtis could feel, shocking as it was, kinship with Dr. Bannon.

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Moira's attention shifted from Weir to Inoae, and her expression was - amazingly - one of patience. She, unlike many of the others, seemed to have an infinite amount of patience for Inoae's inane questions. It was surprising, for someone with her reputation for bitchiness and intolerance, to not be fed up with the Lantean woman's endless barrage of questions.

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"Inoae, a party is a gathering of people. During parties people frequently do things like dance with each other, talk, listen to music, consume alcohol and/or other mood-altering substances known as drugs. Some people find these things enjoyable, so they get together in large groups to do those things. It is.. something people do during their free time. Do you remember what I told you about free time?"

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Inoae nodded, and confirmed.

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"Yes, Dr. Fitzgerald."

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"Very good. While we are there, we may get separated. We are going to be there, pretending to have fun, as if it is free time. But we are really there to perform an assignment - a duty. You should try to stay with one of us at all times, and do as we imply that you should do. We may ask you to do something instead of telling you, in order to make people believe we're there for free time instead of on duty. You should do as we tell you or suggest you should do. For example, if I say 'Inoae, would you mind getting me a drink?', then you should say something like 'No problem', and go get the drink, instead of saying "No, I do not mind." and then waiting for me to tell you to get it. We should also all probably call each other by either our first or last name, so we don't sound as if we're on duty. That means you can call me Moira, for example. Curtis. Yseult. Jason. Evana. Ayato. Leon. Unless Captain Bates says otherwise, but I believe that would be the best way to avoid suspicion."

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Moira briefly went around the table, indicating each one of them as she rattled off their first names. She knew the Lantean would remember just fine, and nothing would give them away like having the alien woman addressing them all as "Dr. Fitzgerald" or "Captain Bates" during a booze-drenched rave.

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"Although I must be forthright with my concerns, Dr. Weir, about my ability to control my new skills in an alcohol-soaked, drug-fevered madhouse. I think I have gained more control since the lunchroom incident, but I have to confess some residual apprehension on my part."

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Oh, bloody hell, just stay here then." Evana sighed while rolling her eyes. Since the incident in Goro's lab, Evana had been increasingly catty with the 'Good Doctor'. She wasn't picking fights, she was pushing buttons. "Last thing we need is someone constantly second guessing themselves. Christ, Fitzgerald, man up. Go big or stay home."

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“Dr. Fitzgerald, you are our leading cultural expert. If you can’t do those functions, then you should step aside and let someone else go, temporarily or permanently.” Bates had been riding Moira too since their conversation together, but at least today he looked genuinely concerned. “This isn’t about ego. If you get out there and can’t handle it, you’re going to run the risk of mission failure or someone getting hurt. Can you do it?”

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Moira nodded. “I can. I have training in surpressing emotional reactions.” As Bates nodded, taking her word for it, Moira added to Evana, “Pardon me for expressing concerns.”

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“Enough.” Bates looked from one woman to another. “Leave the in-fighting here.”

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The warp opened to a raucous party. The away team paused for a long moment, staring at the swirling dancers. “Welcome!” The voice came from an enticing young man who skipped out of the mass of partiers to toss a circle of woven fabric around Bates’s neck. As the captain tried to pretend he hadn’t just been lassoed around the shoulders by a beaming young man whose dress was best described as eclectic, their welcome committee said, “Kastar welcomes you!”

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“Uh huh. We heard there was a party.” Bates sounded like a DEA agent trying to bluff his way into a party.

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He was about as convincing as said agent too, but the greeter threw both arms around him and exclaimed, “Then you are at the right place! The Kasti are always welcoming to a man with a lively spirit.”

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“Yeah, I hear that about you guys.” Bates almost vibrated with the urge to peel the guy off of him, but managed to restrain himself.

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“Please, step away from the Stargate, and make yourselves at home! I am Yostin, and over here we have the food…” Bates glanced over his shoulder at the crew, his glance meaningful. It was a perfect Dad-look of Remember what you’re here for…

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Inoae stepped up to her commanding officer and the unwelcome food that was draping himself over the soldier and constricting his arms - not as unnacceptable a situation as when food had accosted a female of the hive during the storm on the hive's planet, but Captain Bates clearly did not like the food's attention. She pinched the man's hands quickly at the pressure points she'd been shown during training; the muscles in his hands and up his arms went almost numb and lost their strength just long enough for Inoae to unwind him from Bates and step between the two of them.

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The man blinked at the seemingly sudden appearance of a very pretty blonde woman right between him and the dark-skinned newcomer to the party planet; he laughed and engulfed her in another exuberant hug. "Welcome to Kastar, beautiful!" He grabbed her hands and kissed both palms, then kissed her on each cheek. "Drink, eat, dance, and make love! We are here to bring you every pleasure life can offer!" He'd either missed or was purposely ignoring the blank look from the blonde and quickly set on to the next of the group.

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Inoae scooted behind Bates, watching their overly enthusiastic welcoming committee make the rounds. To most onlookers she might seem only shy, but those of the team that had spent time with her easily understood the unnatural stillness that was her panic-and-fear mode.

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Moreau came through the Stargate last, the large woman making an effort of maneuvering the wheelbarrow with the three barrels of Rus wine without revealing how effortless it was for her. But she almost forget, nearly staggering as she got her first good whiff of Kastar. The tips of her breasts immediately hardened under her leather halter-top, the scent of arousal, sex, self-gratifying abandon in the air assaulting her nose.

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She'd be lying if she said she didn't like the smell and wanted to do something about it, but that would have to wait until the mission.

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"Ah, there is always welcome for the maiden with the drink! A thousand welcomes!" Yostin exclaimed, repeating the greeting he'd offered Inoae with Yseult. Yseult gave Bates a surreptitious smirk, then cupped the back of Yostin's head with a strong hand and pulled him into a deep-tongued kiss. Yostin responded easily, not at all put out by the aggressive woman, his hands grazing over her muscular figure.

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"I am no maiden," Yseult rumbled, attempting to mimic the Athosians measured tones. Well, perhaps waiting until after the mission was being hasty. I'm a damn super soldier, I can manage to work and play at the same time. Besides, it will help me blend in, no?

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"To be sure, to be sure," Yostin agreed, a touch breathless as he placed a lei around her neck. He may have been a veteran sybarite, but the hard bodied woman was a lot of woman. "A woman you like can find any pleasure they desire here. Please, place your offerings with the rest of the drink and food. Do you need help?"

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"I got it," Yseult affirmed. As Yostin nodded and turned to great the rest of the team - making extra noise at Evana and Bannon - she hefted the barrels out of the wheelbarrow, making a token effort to make it seem it wasn't too easy. In the process, she took a good sniff of the food and drink already on the table.

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Done, Yseult sauntered over to Bates, the tails of her open leather coat swirling around her legs, a large mug of something citrus-y with a bite like snake venom in her hand. She gave the Captain a smirk, then took a long pull of her drink.

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"Not bad, not bad at all," Yseult said at the high-quality moonshine, then lowered her voice for Bates' ears alone... and Inoae right behind him. "All the drinks are alcoholic, mostly beer-ish, a few a good deal stronger." She raised up her mug in demonstration and took another sip. "Nearly all the food, it is laced with... something. About the level of marijauna?"

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Yseult was somewhat uncertain, making educated guesses. She was still adapting to her heightened senses. Just because she could smell certain things now, didn't mean she automatically knew what that scent meant. She still needed exposure and experience. Seemed like Kastar was a good place to do it.

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"That stuff like mushroom soup, I am thinking is more potent. I will tell you after I try some."

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Curtis' expression quickly developed into something... pinched. That was as good as any a description for it. Though his senses were not perhaps as enhanced as Yseult Moreau, and extended a bit more into the exotic non-human range, the five primary senses were still improved to a level surpassing any normal human being. On Kastar, the impact had gone off like a dozen nuclear missiles at once.

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Mindless hedonism central... here I am... Whoop-dee-doo. What was worst of all things... was the smell. The scent of sex, and excess (sex especially, not that he wanted to admit it) was overwhelming, and scent was so well linked to taste that Curtis was certain that he could determine the taste of various ladies in the crowds by the odor of their... need.

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Naturally, this was becoming an issue down there, and Curtis needed to head this off for sanity's sake. Fortunately, he was closer to Bannon, and to Evana, which provided an escape route. "Proposal, Evana." Curtis quietly tried to offer, "I know some of us need to partake of the... amenities, I know, obvious, but I'd like to slip off elsewhere, and Bannon can come if he wants. For more... cerebral methods of completing our mission."

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His parents, Jesse and Jeff, bless them, were great people, but the classic homophobic bias had provoked a certain tendency to snap back at such bigots in Curtis. They didn't need that now, and even in a more... kindly vein, Curtis didn't want to deal with any thoughts, his or anyone else, about defining his sexual orientation.

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Sex and intimacy made him very skittish, deep down.

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Evana looked fantastic. Granted, it was difficult for her not to after the changes they'd all been through, but she more than the others had been blessed/cursed with incredible beauty and a powerful personal presence. She seemed a magnet for every eye and lusty thought in the immediate area. Not that she minded in the slightest. She had the 'boys' uneasy before they even stepped through the Stargate and now she was like a wild tiger unleashed into her natural habitat to hunt and feed.

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Her icy blue hair was pulled back into a series of braids with various white vines and flower woven in. It cascaded down her back, leaving her shoulders exposed. Her outfit was inspired by the White Queen of comic book lore, although thankfully she was wearing a dress to preserve some modesty. Her dress was slit of each side for maximum mobility and to show off the wedge heeled sandals that laced enticingly up her leg to her thighs. Her corset hiked the ladies up and together so well that she had a balcony anyone would kill to do Shakespeare from. The entirety of her outfit was made from a pearlescent leather that appeared white, but would shimmer into a variety of hues in different light (she made a mental note that she had to get more... it was gorgeous).

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"Curtis, sweetie," Her lip curled in a way that reminded him of when he was growing up and discovered the rope in gym class. Was she messing with him, or... was she really this attractive? And since when did he care? "We have to mingle a bit before we all just disappear. Less suspicion that way, trust me. Guys, wander about but stay within sight of each other for a bit. Remember, we're new here so we have to take the time to find what we like before we head off in that direction. You know, like awkward party guests. After we've blended we can begin to get to work, jumping right in will blow our cover and get us all killed."

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Unexpectantly she looped her arm into Curtis's. "Now, let's have some fun." He looked at Curtis's hand, inspecting it for some unknown reason and then let go. "Small, soft, never done any real work with them. Come on, Curtis, dance with me. I need hands on my body and yours need the work out."

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She drug him away, and if it wasn't for the mission and her phenomenal strength, he'd prolly had been kicking and screaming the whole way. Weren't there regs against this? Wasn't this abuse of authority? A violation of rank? Was there no god?

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It was cute the way he tried to resist, but then there they were on a small floor surrounded by others both seemingly normal and bizarrely alien. "Curtis, relax." She leaned into him and whispered softly in his ear. She smelled fantastic. Her skin was smooth and soft against his cheek. "I know there's a man in there somewhere Curtis. Just relax, look at me, and let the world around you fade away." Every word was a soft seduction in his ear. "Relax, and dance with me. I swear, I'll be good."

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She may as well had been dancing with a mannequin. "Sweetie, it's just a dance..."

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For clarification, no, Evana is not doing any fancy mojo on Curtis. No juice or anything like that, but she is using her ability to seduce and carouse to loosen the boy up a bit. Just natural ability, which I didn't see the need for a die roll, since it's RP not PVP.

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Let's face the facts, we wanna see Curtis crash and burn with a woman as much as we wanna see Bannon get humbled. It's what makes this fun... destroying each others minds one post at a time. :)

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"That was just waiting to happen. And better you than me." Bannon gave Curtis a tight smile and a little wave as the hapless engineer was dragged off by the Venus Mantrap. He looked around, lighting up one of his silver-filtered cigarettes, then hefted the overnight bag he'd packed along with his regular doctor's bag. Inoae was hiding behind Bates, Moreau was sampling the drinks, and the other Atlantis personnel were likewise mingling. Bannon felt he should do his part, and a quiet enquiry to a half-naked girl solicited the required information and an offer of company which he politely, but firmly rejected, with a hint of 'this time' in his wording so as not to spoil the moment.

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The solicited information directed the biochemist to a small, but comfortably luxurious suite, where Bannon set his cases on the bed before getting changed.

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* * * * *

Ten minutes later, long hair falling loose around his shoulders rather than in it's usual ponytail, the good Doctor Bannon was back and cruising around the party in an aimless manner close to the other Atlantis crew, dressed to party. Gone was the plain linen suit; Bannon had elected to keep the white shirt, but it was worn open over his hairless, but definitely masculine chest. He was barefoot, and wearing a skirt. Well, a plain white sarong, really, but a skirt is a skirt, and the doctor didn't much care - he'd learned to like wearing them in tropical climes. Of course, he had a pair of white shorts on under the skirt, because it was a faintly translucent material that would make him indecent otherwise. He looked... well, he looked good. Appealing, even. The fierce intelligence in his pale green eyes gave his androgynous features a bewitching, aloof air, and with his hair down and his habitual 'dont bother me idiot' glare replaced with a faint smile, he looked almost approachable.

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It seemed that the doctor did know how to let his hair down after all. Even if it was only as camoflage.

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At some point, Curtis eventually gave in. Be it the general atmosphere and sensations wearing him down, an internal exhaustation to maintain his walls, or Evana just being so up close, intimate and overwhelming seductive, Curtis let it go enough to start actively dancing, and becoming more animate than inanimate.

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Evana hid the edge of her smirk... maybe this wooden toy squint would grow up to be a real boy someday... not with her though, most likely, promiscuous party girl or not. Curtis let the feel, the smell, the sensations cover him and remove focus for some relaxing time. Not completely though.

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The wooden part soon spoke for itself. Curtis flushed, but somehow more aware that Evana didn't intend to really that far down the way, and now unpleasantly finding himself more aggrieved than relieved by the thought, adjusted his movements a little and they continued the path across the dance floor.

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Unlike some of the others, Moira was more able to blend in. Though her red hair was striking, and definitely unusual for an Athosian, and she was still incredibly attractive by human (or humanoid) standards, she lacked the super-beauty that Yseult and Evana now possessed. It would allow her to mingle at least a little more naturally amongst the crowd, since the other two mega-babes were around to draw the lustful stares of the male population in general. She had changed into Athosian-appropriate clothing, per their directions, and had done her best to stay back and let the others draw all the attention first. The emotional assault had hit her as soon as she'd stepped through the wormhole, and as the others wandered off to mingle and interact, Moira took a few moments to lean against a pillar, closing her eyes and drawing in a few deep breaths to steady herself. It had been a couple of weeks since the incident with Evana, and Moira had spent more of that time than she would have liked to spend attempting to control her new abilities. She had gotten much more adapt at cutting herself off from other people's emotions at large, but the sheer size and instability of this crowd made it an incredibly difficult task, and she hadn't had any opportunity to test-drive her control in this unchecked of an environment.

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After a few moments, she opened her eyes and actually looked around. People were dancing, drinking, and partying - that was what she had expected, that was what they were doing, and she could handle it. She pushed away from the column and stepped down into the crowd, adopting a casual, friendly expression as she began to skirt the dancing and mingle.

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Not turning on the super-charm just yet, though she's able to adapt to the environment pretty seamlessly for now. I may post some sort of perception roll soon, I just don't have access to my character sheet at the moment.

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Ayato was showing once more how much of a wallflower he was. He looked nondescript, completely plain compared to the others and used that to simply blend in. He offered a thin smiled to those around, a calm nod, but not much more. He wasn't a partier, acting like one was totally alien to him, more so than those surrounding him. He let the crowd envelop him calmly, a single island of peace and clarity amongst the ocean of debauchery.

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“Good job.” Bates put a brief hand on Amara’s shoulder to let her know that she’d done well indeed. He’d talk to her later in greater detail about when and when not to attack the natives, but tonight, he wanted her to calm down some. She was on the verge of an epic freak-out, and Bates did not want to have to deal with that in hostile territory, no matter how friendly the hostiles appeared to be.

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After Yseult’s report, Bates stepped close to the party’s prettiest man and said, “Bannon, Moreau thinks the food is laced with drugs. Please confirm, and snag them if you can.”

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He turned in time to see Evana dragging Curtis off into the throng of dancers. When the young sergeant looked back at him beseechingly, Bates just gave him a ‘go on’ wave. A quick glance at all of them assured the Captain that his team was performing as expected. He moved off to get a drink, only to be shadowed by Inaoe. She looked exactly like she was tailing him. “Come here and take my arm,” he ordered, which she did stiffly. He murmured in her ear, “Relax. We’re at a party, have fun.”

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As he passed Ayato, Bates nodded at the man in support and approval.

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Mingling happened quickly. In fact, the team felt rather like the Kastari had been watching them like hawks waiting for the mice to come out of the grass; now that enough time had passed, the newcomers rapidly found themselves approached by interested partiers.

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I could go on and on about awkward social things happening to you, and I will, if you want. However, you guys are awesome, and I’m sure that you can come up with your own fun, awkward things. For example, Evana and Curtis being approached by a couple wanting to ‘trade’ spouses/partners for a bit. Things like that. Think of the most free-wheeling, sexually-open, drunk all the time group (basically frat boys x1000) and you have your hosts clearly in mind.

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Inoae's muscles relaxes immediately at the order, but it was the actual contact with her commanding officer that began to soothe her nerves. The pair ended up at an open-air bar, beautifully carved wooden steins serving a wide range of beverages; some smelled sweet, some earthy, some bitter, and all incredibly alcoholic. Bates used two of the bead-tokens the Expedition had gotten from the Athosians for easy trade on Kastar and a few other planets that accepted them as currency to get each of them of drink - something that seemed like a stout beer for himself and a sweet wine for Inoae.

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"Drink it slowly," he instructed her when he handed her the stein. She nodded and sipped at it, careful not to show her dislike at the sharp tang of the alcohol.

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They drank and observed the people around them, the chatter of dozens of languages threaded through with Ancient as the verbal point of crossover. Then again, a lot of the people weren't much bothering with words; looks, sensual dance, teasing touches, and acts that would have been illegal in public on Earth peppered the bazaar area. Inoae watched them with blank eyes, but she leaned heavily against Bates. She wasn't used to being around so many people, do so many different things all at once, especially people she didn't know at all and couldn't possibly keep track of all of them at once. He could feel the tension in her in the perfect stillness and the way she took one sip of her drink every two minutes, precisely. Apparently two minutes a sip was exactly "slowly".

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They been there almost a half-hour before someone finally decided to broach the aura of intimidating personal space Bates exuded. They were a pair, a petite auburn-haired woman with dozens of small gems somehow studded into her skin, making patterns over her face and down her arms. She was dressed in a cream-colored tunic sheer enough that anyone could see she wasn't wearing anything else. She had a jeweled bracelet on her left wrist with a delicate silver chain dangling from it, leading up to the ornate choker on the dark-haired woman walking a step behind her.

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Unlike the jeweled woman, she was tall and dressed more conservatively than just about anyone Bates had seen other than his own team. A brightly threaded long-sleeve tunic and pants that reminded him of Indian styles, paired with matching high-heeled leather boots and gloves, both tooled in the same patterns as the cloth. Her hair was intricately braided and studded with tiny, freshly picked flowers. They were a stunningly beautiful matched pair, but no one approached them, not even the overly-enthusiastic "street-greeters" as Bates had privately named them, as they made their way over to the bar.

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"My, my," the red-head said in an exotically accented Ancient, "but she is the precious one, isn't she? So well behaved." She smiled, nodded to Inoae while speaking only to Bates, "So well trained, mmm?"

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Bates tensed and Inoae immediately shifted from watching the general area with her blank stare to watching the red-haired woman with her total-focus intensity. He put an arm around her waist, making sure she didn't jump up and assault the woman because of a wrong word or move by the unknown woman. "I suppose so," he replied neutrally, then remembered that he was supposed to be 'mingling'. He smiled and gave her a friendly nod. "My name is Leon. Who might you be?"

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"Gabrell," she said as she slid onto the seat on the other side of Inoae. Bates counted down a few numbers in his mind to keep from moving Inoae away from their new 'friend'. Gabrell waved her braceleted arm and the still-unnamed dark haired woman stepped forward. "This is my Lobelia." The two women smiled at each other, an intimate look that would have had Curtis flushed and stammering if he were there, and Gabrell turned that smile on Bates. "She's still in training," Gabrell wound the chain connecting the two of them until Lobelia was pulled up tight against her; she ran a hand over her cheek and Lobelia turned her face into the touch, kissing Gabrell's palm. "We've been making progress, but, well, you know how it can be with exceptional students."

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The sharp crack of skin on skin rang out at the bar, momentarily startling the wildlife gathered there. Lobelia took in a peaked breath and tried to nuzzle against Gabrell's hand again, the red welt of the slap already turning coming out on her tanned cheek. Gabrell gave Bates a bright smile, "They need challenges to bring out their full potential." She reached out to Inoae, stopping just short of actually touching the blonde. "You've done such a wonderful job with this one. Perhaps we could share for the evening? Exchange techniques?"

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Evana and Curtis

Their dancing was not improved by Curtis’s discomfort. He felt stiff even as Evana tried a few tricks to loosen him up—nothing overtly sexual just some dance moves. They were supposed to help him feel the music, but all it did was make him almost fall over her feet.

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“What interesting decorations,” a feminine voice said, and both turned to see a couple standing nearby. He was dressed in a woven grass skirt; she wore the same and had a tunic made of some other woven fiber. The shirt left one shoulder and her breast bare.

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“What?” Evana asked, still with an easy smile.

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“On your face.” The woman pointed to Curtis’s glasses. “I’ve not seen anything like that before.”

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“They’re glasses.” His explanation was curt, truthful and not at all helpful.

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“Yes, they accent your face so well,” the man replied with a smile. “I am Joran and this is my wife Sylia. We were hoping that you’d be willing to trade for the evening.”

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“Trade partners,” Sylia clarified with a smile, her green eyes latched eagerly on Curtis.

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Moira

The sociologist wandered through the party, drinking in the various customs and behaviors around her. Places like this were amazing, she thought as she stepped around a fresh pile of vomit. The diversity of a hundred different planets, all in one place.

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Something bounced off her chest and hit the ground. Moira frowned and crouched, picking up the small fetish. It was carved of some pale, almost pink wood. It was vaguely heart-shaped, or she mused with a little smile, labia-shaped since the heart symbol was created by the Romans in the image of the external female sex organs—

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“My love!” Moira looked up, startled at the exclamation. A man was staring at her, his expression enraptured. Cautiously, she glanced over her shoulder, but there were no one else there that he could be speaking to.

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“I am not your love,” she said coolly, drawing herself up stiffly.

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“Oh, but you are! The rigillum fell from the sky and struck you!” He dropped to his knees and held out both of his hands to her. He wasn’t too tall or attractive; he was at best average. “You are my soulmate. Let us be married!”

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Ayato

The rest of the team had more or less dispersed for now, disappearing into the crowd. Ayato considered what he could do now; this really wasn’t his forte. Sighing, he leaned against the half-wall he’d found.

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For a long moment, he was more or less alone in the crowd, a solitary, stoic figure minding his own business. Then he realized that there was a little girl sitting on a box, half in shadows. She was maybe five or six and, he saw with a feeling of discomfort, she was crying.

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Bannon

The androgynous biologist wound his way through the crowd, doing his best to look like he was mingling. He was, on orders, heading to the food table to assess the drugs laced into the food. The doctor was almost there with someone collided with him then wrapped arms around his waist in the best impression of an lamprey.

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The girl was in her late teens or perhaps early twenties, with skin and hair as dark as any African native. She wore a suit coat that wouldn’t have looked out of place on an upper class man in the Victorian era, complete with the knee-high boots and tailored pants. She was very attractive, save for the glazed look in her eyes. Her pupils were so wide that he couldn’t tell what color her eyes were; the official diagnosis of her condition would have been ‘high as fuck’. “You are so pretty,” she told him as she stared up at him, her hands firmly cupping his ass through his sarong. Her voice dropped to an insistent whisper as she hissed, “You’re like my white shadow.

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Yseult

Yseult tried the mushroom stew and found that it was very narcotic but delicious. It was actually potent enough to make colors swim in front of her eyes for about two seconds, so she helped herself to a bowl and enjoyed the brief highs it gave her with each spoonful.

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Wandering around was fun, mostly because she could see what was happening in the dark corners where people were having sex. Yseult considered going and giving out pointers, but she restrained herself. They weren’t here for that… though this would be a great place for shore leave.

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People were approaching her, offering sex mostly, and she waved them off with regrets. There were a few that she wanted but she still declined. Then one approached her with a slightly different air about him; not one of hopeful lust, but still hopeful desire. “Excuse me, ma’am, I was hoping for a word with you.”

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“About what?” Yseult asked, studying him. He was not a fighter; he didn’t carry himself like one and didn’t have calluses.

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“I am Tolend, and I work for a planetary group that is looking for new base material.” He smiled and Yseult pegged him as a salesman. “We are interested in base material from you. I assure you, we pay very well, and in valuable minerals or gems.”

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Bates and Inoae

For one moment, the potential for extreme, prejudiced violence was thick in the air. Then Bates relaxed and put his hand lightly on the back of Inoae’s neck. The submissive Lantan allowed him to use the grip on her neck to pull her out of her chair and into his lap. Inoae came without resistance, perching on his legs comfortably--too much so for Bates's comfort.

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“I’m afraid that I charge far too much for you to pay,” Bates said with a smirk. He knew he was supposed to be cozying up to these people, but Gabrell had just hit Lobelia to make a point. “However, if you’d like, we can sit and talk for a moment. What training issues are you having?”

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Bannon managed NOT to look at the glaze-eyed girl like she was something pungent he'd stepped in... but only just. He hated being touched at all, so being groped was almost good enough to engage his hindbrain without asking permission from the frontal lobes. Of course he would get groped by some love-starved young idiot with more taste than sense. He had to think of some proper way to express his appreciation to Doctor Weir next time they met...

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"Your white shadow. How... fascinating. And here I thought shadows were dark." he replied brightly to the babbling child. She was pretty, and well-dressed, and probably therefore wealthy. And blitzed out of whatever mind she usually possessed on, from what his read of her biology was telling him, an exceptionally pure form of MDMA. None of the impurities of the usual garage-mixed crap here. This stuff would be non-lethal and very potent, which was probably why she was rubbing her fact against his bare chest and crooning.

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"Your skin feels like shimmersilk and my face is the moon."

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"Lovely." the doctor muttered dryly. "And do you perhaps have a name?"

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"Eleodoranna." she looked up at him with large, iris-less eyes. "I decided I want to be called Eleodoranna when I came here to find you, my soul mate."

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"Soul mate. And we've only just met. Fancy that." Bannon replied as he tried to untangle her arms from around him. The disdainful amusement in his voice was softened slightly by inhuman effort and mostly by the girl's utter inability to perceive reality.

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"Your voice sounds like wine feels." she moaned in his ear before licking his neck.

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"Sounds like...? Who the hell talks like that?" Bannon's patience was nearing the end of it's string. "Hey... Hey!" he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back to arms length. "No licking. I've not had anything to make me feel good yet. It's not fair."

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"I have some." she murmured, fishing in a pocket and producing what looked like a dropper bottle. Bannon palmed it.

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"Oh, this? I tried this. I want to see what else they have here." he said dismissively. He smiled then, an inviting and utterly false expression of flirtation. "Why don't you show me what's on offer, then we can go somewhere together."

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Evana and Curtis

Their dancing was not improved by Curtis’s discomfort. He felt stiff even as Evana tried a few tricks to loosen him up—nothing overtly sexual just some dance moves. They were supposed to help him feel the music, but all it did was make him almost fall over her feet.

“What interesting decorations,” a feminine voice said, and both turned to see a couple standing nearby. He was dressed in a woven grass skirt; she wore the same and had a tunic made of some other woven fiber. The shirt left one shoulder and her breast bare.

“What?” Evana asked, still with an easy smile.

“On your face.” The woman pointed to Curtis’s glasses. “I’ve not seen anything like that before.”

“They’re glasses.” His explanation was curt, truthful and not at all helpful.

“Yes, they accent your face so well,” the man replied with a smile. “I am Joran and this is my wife Sylia. We were hoping that you’d be willing to trade for the evening.”

“Trade partners,” Sylia clarified with a smile, her green eyes latched eagerly on Curtis.

"Trade Partners?" Curtis could hear the coo in her voice. Was there no low to which this woman would not stoop? "I'm not sure about that..." Her hand slid suggestively about Curtis's inner thigh, that coo in her voice not diminishing a bit. "I didn't marry my love here for his mind, you know... hate to see him damaged... promise me that you'll play nice with him?"

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Curtis's grip on her hand could only be described as: 'this is sexual harassment and pandering... I'll be filing a full report!'

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Sylia smiled brightly, seemingly impressed by Evana's theatrics. She was playing a game and trying to have fun with it all. "Oh, my dear you are just too much fun. Althosian, yes? Pardon if I'm being rude, but I simply must know."

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"Yes, indeed we are." Evana's natural social skills took aver, her poise and mannerisms shifted slightly and subtly. Keeping it fun and loose while trying to hide a thin veil of apprehension and ruse of how new all this was for her. "I think, perhaps I'd like to take you up on that offer, Sylia. I'm Evana, and this is my darling, Curtis. We felt we needed some time away so to speak. Honestly, your offer is precisely what we need, some time to meet other people, to branch out and rekindle what brought out hearts together to begin with."

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Sylia certainly understood Evana, she just didn't expect the sort of reaction she got next. Evana slid over to her, a bit of shyness mingled into her body language. A commingling of hesitation and eagerness that helped to make the deal all the more sweeter. "Joran, do be careful with my love, he's not the talkative type but he's got a tongue like a hurricane."

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Curtis hadn't decided which now was worse, Evana groping him that way or the claim that she 'didn't marry him for his mind.' Ok, within a moment or two he realized it was a claim of sexual prowess on his part - but seriously, his mind far exceeded even the most Casanova level of this faux-ability. All right, was he starting to buy into this now?

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Somewhere along the line as Evana moved to Sylia and began offering him to Joran, Curtis made some rapid decisions. One, Evana was going to be like this, fine. Two... well could play at that game. Third, with two dads, teenage delves into gay and heterosexual porn, brief experimentation on both sides during that period, he had memory and awareness of techniques enough to use on Joran.

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Fourth, there might have been some practical consideration of the contraceptive issue by Evana - unlikely as it was. Fifth, the look on her face would be worth it. If Bates and Bannon got wind... Curtis could already imagine the expressions on their faces, and that clinched it.

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Joran and Sylia meanwhile, were surprised by Evana's interpretation of trading partners. Joran politely but cautiously made a quasi-cough. "Well Evana, we were thinking something more traditional." "No new experiences?" Curtis' voice suddenly had the hint of a purr, as he approached Joran, eyes roving over the other man - and to be fair Joran was fairly good looking.

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Joran paused, sweating, and Evana blinked to make sure this was Curtis. Curtis brushed his hand over Joran's hip, as he swung in behind Joran, throwing his arms over Joran's shoulders and whispering heatedly in his ear: "Be more open." Curtis' groin pressed into Joran's backside, and Joran flushed and swallowed. "Well..."

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"Say yes." Curtis replied, louder with the same laconic lines. One hand moved over to press against Joran's thigh, the other crept over Joran's chest, tracing the muscle there. Then he suddenly nipped at Joran's neck, eliciting a moan of astonished pleasure from Joran.

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Curtis locked eyes with Evana, daring her to believe this, and Sylia was taking deep breaths and finding herself admiring the view, and that of Evana too. "Dear, why don't you help Sylia? She looks all in need."

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A sharpened olfactory sense didn't just give you a map with marked notations, it gave you a rough time-line. Not only could you tell where people are, you can determine where they were, and to a degree, what they were doing. And Tolend, he smelled of business. Which could mean he could lead to who they were looking for. Unfortunately, Yseult wasn't much of a dissembler.

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"Oh? Interesting. I would hear more of your offer. As Athosian," Yseult's lowered brows dared him to call her out on it. She had the colouring for one, though her accent was off - perhaps she had been adopted by them? "As Athosian, we have many trees and stone. Is this what you are looking for? Myself, I... I am a hunter. I can provide hide and meat, which workers will need."

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Yseult noted Tolend's scent, in case he either didn't believe her or cared for her offer and needed to follow him later, though admittedly, the stank of sex in the air might make it more difficult.

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Gabrell shook her bracelted wrist and Lobelia slipped onto to the stool that Bates had just moved Inoae from, managing to arrange herself against the bar so that Bates would have a nice view of her feminine...assets...while also still giving him a clear view to continue his conversation with Gabrell. "Mmm...you might underestimate what I can afford, Leon," the petite woman purred. She smiled at the blonde curled up in the handsome man's arms, "But first, pleasantries, yes? I was rude before and did not ask the name of your familiaris."

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Bates shifted uncomfortably, not from Inoae's weight, but from the implications of the conversation. "She can tell you her name herself. If she wants to," he added the last on a bit awkwardly, but dammit, they were still working on getting the Lantean functional and if they were going to be sent on missions before she was ready, then they'd have to continue the lessons in the field.

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Gabrell arched a brow in a surprise, then transferred her enticing smile to Inoae. "Would you like to tell me your name, little one?" she asked with surprising gentleness.

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Inoae glanced up at Bates, who kept his expression as neutral as he could so she'd have to decide on her own. She answered tentatively, keeping in mind the orders from Moira: to answer the implication instead of the actual question and to use only one name in this place, even if she was called two different ones most of the time now. "Th- I am called Inoae."

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Bates could see the small, interested tilt in Gabrell's posture as she took in the girl's name - and her decidedly non-Athosian accent. She might be dressed like one, but she didn't act like one or sound like one. Where did he get her from? she wondered as she sat back and regarded the pair. And what is he going to do with her when he returns to his people? They are so...narrowly traditional. "Inoae," she said the name slowly, trying to match the old-fashioned way the girl had said the name.

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She hopped up suddenly, Lobelia slipping off her stool at the same time to move to her place a step behind Gabrell. "Leon, if I cannot afford your insights, perhaps you might indulge me for a time at my open theater? We both might find a bit of entertainment there for the day, and just maybe I could learn by," she paused a heartbeat for effect, pretending to be searching for the perfect word, "observation." She held out a hand to take his arm, if he agreed to go with her.

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Bannon

“Oh, you haven’t tried this star-of-night,” Eleodoranna assured him, her eyes trying to follow where the bottle had disappeared. She managed to track to his hand, then forgot what she was looking for when she became distracted by sucking on his pinky.

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“I haven’t?” Bannon asked, raising an eyebrow.

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It took his companion a moment to remember what they’d been talking about. “You can’t get that here.” She sagged heavily against him though even for her height, she weighed very little. “I brought that here, smuggled away in my… unmentionables.” She giggled a little at her boldness.

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He was thankful that she didn’t mention them; still, best to sanitize the exterior of the bottle before opening it in his lab on Atlantis. “You’re trying to sell it?” Bannon steered her over to a seat, unsure if she was about to pass out. But when he sat down too, she quickly sat on his lap.

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“No, I need it, like… like… I need you.” She gazed up into his pale eyes, her fingers tangling in his hair.

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“For?” The moment he asked, Bannon realized he’d pushed her a little too far, been just a bit too inquisitive. She hesitated, her dark eyes blinking as sobriety attempted to reclaim control.

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“I…” She broke into a rapid-fire explanation—in a language that Bannon had never heard before and that had no relation to Lantan.

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“I don’t understand you.” His patience was just about done; the white-haired botanist could find other sources to pump for drug information. He dug his fingers into her shoulders, preparing to deposit her on the ground.

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“You just looked so pretty and nice, and I didn’t think you’d hurt me.” Her head dropped to his shoulder and she started to cry. It wasn’t a few tears; no, it was a cascade of sorrow or something that expressed itself in a torrent of body-shaking sobs.

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Evana and Curtis

Sylia laughed, a throaty, happy sound. “I think we’re all set then.” Joran didn’t look completely sold on the idea, but his wife didn’t allow him to really express his concern. “Is three hours enough?”

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“Oh, yes. I’ll return your husband to you a different man,” Curtis promised as he started to draw Joran away from the two women. “Don’t worry,” he said to Joran, “it’ll be fun.”

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It was just now occurring to Curtis that he might have to actually sex this stranger up. He began to cast about for some way to get out of it, when Joran said, “So you really know about how to please a man?”

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“So do you,” Curtis said, explaining the obvious. “You are a man. Just do to your partner what you’d want done to you.”

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“Oh.” Joran glanced at him. “You have a place to go or should we use the one I scouted out earlier?”

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“So,” Sylia said with a grin as she turned to Evana, “have you done this before?”

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“More than you know,” Evana said, quickly recovering from any surprise at Curtis’s reaction. “My dearest Curty loves to go and find other people to fuck like animals. Sometimes its men, sometimes its women… you never know what he’ll stick his cock into.”

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“Mmm, lucky Joran. Though…” Sylia eyed Evana, her gazing lingering on her breasts, “perhaps I’m the lucky one. Did you have somewhere in mind to go? If not, I know of somewhere.”

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“Actually, I’m not looking for something from your planet,” Tolend told Yseult, still with that businessman’s smile. “I’m looking for something from you. Can I buy you a drink, and have our conversation sitting down somewhere quiet?”

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Yseult considered. “Quiet,” she told him, “but public.”

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“Of course. I assure you, I mean you no harm, but I understand a desire for caution.” Tolend led her to a bar made of interlinked tents. It felt a bit like she was drinking at the circus, but the beer, when she sipped it, was quite good. The girl who was bringing out the drinks was also pretty, which helped Yseult to enjoy herself.

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Yseult waited until she was settled in before pressing on. “So, what are you wanting of me?

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“We’d like to buy one of your ovaries, including the contents within.” Tolend spoke as if this request were nothing unusual. “We have a surgical procedure which would remove it with a minimum of pain and stress to your body. It’d be about a three day healing process, if you’re like most people. You’ll not notice any increased difficulty of getting pregnant or change to your menstruation once you’ve healed from the surgery. And I assure you—the price we offer you is both competitive and fair.” He paused to take a drink, his cunning eyes studying her.

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Bates and Inoae

Bates hesitated only a second. He was supposed to be blending in, and this woman had pegged him as a dominator because of Inoae. It was probably best to play along with her, no matter how much he didn’t like it. “Very well,” he agreed, smiling. He barely had to shift his feet under him to get up before Inoae was off his lap, anticipating his rise to his feet. Bates accepted it as if this were normal and offered Gabrell his arm.

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Inoae fell in quietly behind him, mirroring Lobelia. “So what brings you to Kastar?” Gabrell asked, gazing up at the man. “We don’t get many Althosians here.”

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“We’d heard about this place and I wanted to see if it were true.” Bates knew that sounded lame, but if she was willing to believe that Althosians were naïve, he’d use that.

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“If what was true? The sheer decadence? The lovely ability to be exactly who you are without any question or fear? Or perhaps you’ve heard about our open theatres.” Gabrell tightened her grip on his arm. “Come, I must know what drew you here.”

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“We heard it was a party planet.” Bates shrugged. “I was curious.”

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“And what of Inoae? Is she curious too?” Gabrell asked.

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The captain looked at the alien woman sharply. Was this a test? “She’s with me,” Bates said shortly, because that seemed the best way to forestall Gabrell even talking to her.

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The corner of the woman’s lips twitched. “Yes, I can see that. Anyone with eyes can see.” Bates gave her another sharp glare but Gabrell ignored it. “We’ll have to see if your expectations of my theatre is a match for reality.”

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“Do you own it?” The captain was eager to turn the conversation back onto her.

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Again, that strange smile. “No. I belong to it, in that its success measures mine. But I don’t own it. I’m not sure who does, if anyone.”

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“Wouldn’t it have an owner?” Bates asked.

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“Perhaps. But I don’t know who that is, and it’s irrelevant. The theatre is mine, even if I don’t own it.” Gabrell smiled mysteriously. It was a little creepy, but Bates didn’t have time to dwell on it. “We’re here.”

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Here was a large building. It didn’t look like a theatre to Bates, with the stucco exterior with red trim. He kept his opinion of the external appearance of the building to himself as Gabrell guided him inside.

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...“You just looked so pretty and nice, and I didn’t think you’d hurt me.” Her head dropped to his shoulder and she started to cry. It wasn’t a few tears; no, it was a cascade of sorrow or something that expressed itself in a torrent of body-shaking sobs...
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"Oh, for..." Bannon muttered, looking around for some lifeline to cling to that wouldn't involve actually having to comfort a spaced-out space-nympho. Sadly, no options presented themselves that did not involve dumping the sobbing mess onto the floor and seeking enlightenment elsewhere, and the biochemist was considering doing just that when he paused. He did have another option, after all...

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He put an arm around the crying girl and patted her on the shoulder, making soothing noises. At least, he hoped they were soothing noises. To him they sounded unbearably faked, but then he supposed that the girl wasn't really in a state of mind to analyse his acting ability. So he patted, and made 'there, there' sounds, and let his newfound powers roam the woman's body, attempting to reset the chemical balance of her bloodstream and brain. He released certain counteragents to the drug she'd taken, making sure that the dosage would not be so strong as to instantly sober her up or cause a bad reaction. He wanted her lucid yet pliant, not comatose or damaged after all.

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Body Manipulation roll to sober the woman up a little bit:

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[Red] 12:38 am: Last two dice are Mega:
Red *rolls* 7d10: 3+2+3+6+1+3+7: 25
[Red] 12:38 am: hmmph

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2 succs

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Spent 3 qp

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Will continue until the right balance is struck so we can have a coherent conversation. Or at least until Bannon can have one, and she can pretend to :P

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For Ayato, there was a moment where he thought this was all part of a trap. He knelt down, so that he was eye level, and pulled a hankerchief from one of his pockets, "And what makes you cry, little one? You really shouldn't be on a world such as this."

,,

He was still very on guard, especially now, not trusting anything really in this alien world.

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Evana and Curtis

Sylia laughed, a throaty, happy sound. I think were all set then. Joran didnt look completely sold on the idea, but his wife didnt allow him to really express his concern. Is three hours enough?

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Oh, yes. Ill return your husband to you a different man, Curtis promised as he started to draw Joran away from the two women. Dont worry, he said to Joran, itll be fun.

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It was just now occurring to Curtis that he might have to actually sex this stranger up. He began to cast about for some way to get out of it, when Joran said, So you really know about how to please a man?

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So do you, Curtis said, explaining the obvious. You are a man. Just do to your partner what youd want done to you.

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Oh. Joran glanced at him. You have a place to go or should we use the one I scouted out earlier?

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So, Sylia said with a grin as she turned to Evana, have you done this before?

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More than you know, Evana said, quickly recovering from any surprise at Curtiss reaction. My dearest Curty loves to go and find other people to fuck like animals. Sometimes its men, sometimes its women you never know what hell stick his cock into.

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Mmm, lucky Joran. Though Sylia eyed Evana, her gazing lingering on her breasts, perhaps Im the lucky one. Did you have somewhere in mind to go? If not, I know of somewhere.

That man is insane... Evana thought, not being quite sure if she meant Joran or Curtis. I'll never hear the end of this...,,

"You most certainly are," The ice haired goddess said in a sultry tone. She took Sylia's hand, gently rubbing the back of it with her thumb and she smiled at her new 'friend'. "However, I've nowhere in particular in mind. Curty and I... this is our first visit, so we''re not really familiar with too many of the hot spots. I'd be positively delighted were you to show me about, or..." Her smile went to a coy smirk. The words left her mouth like an enchantment on lips of a harpy calmly telling it's prey to drift silently to sleep while coaxing her mind to tell her all their secrets. "We can just go somewhere private, I want to know all about you..."

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Strategy - Evana isn't going or the kill, yet. Her goal is to fisrt soften up the mind, build up trust and acceptance, and get the prey to lower their defenses. Once that's done she'll start to pry for a few answers.

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Manipulation (Persuasive) + Seduction + Mega-Manipulation + Sexy: Roll(9d10): 8,2,2,8,3,10,5,7,5 = 4 sux

Popping the 10: Roll(1d10): 6 = 0 sux

Persuader: +3 Sux

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Persuader lasts as long a Evana keeps the questioning along the same lines (getting to know Sylia, telling her about her life, etc). Any "What do you know about Atlantis?" questioning will require the Enhancement be used a second time.

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Total 7 Sux.

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Quantum Pool - 23/24

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Yseult was a usually pragmatic woman, like most soldiers, and while many adjectives could be used to describe her, maternal was not one of them. She didn't particularly like kids, didn't particularly want any, and if she had a biological clock, it was a stopwatch that wasn't even counting yet. Hell, with her ovaries cut out, she wouldn't have to worry about getting preggers, what with their contraceptives no longer working on their enhanced physiology. They might even grow back, considering her recuperative abilities.

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Yet, it was all she could do to stop herself from reaching across the table to grab the slick-smelling bastard around the neck and shove his head through the table. If she wasn't going to have any kids, no other motherfucker was going to use her bloody eggs to make any either. And the tattered remnants of her catholic upbringing was disgusted by the idea of invetro-fertilization or surrogate motherhood.

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Behind her disgust and fury, a part of her mind swiftly and coldly considered why Tolend had made his offer to her. Whether he thought a woman obviously tall and strong, healthy and attractive, made good stock or if he suspected or knew about her superhuman attributes. Debated if he was one of those seeking information on Atlantis and drew plans on how to find and what to do if he was.

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SNAP!

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The rippling of steely muscle, an unconscious exertion of pressure, and Yseult shattered her wooden mug, crushing it into splinters. Fortunately, she had drained most of the beer, and wiped her wet fingers on her pants. Tolend noticed, she could smell that he did. He didn't smell aroused or lustful, but... something like wanting, proprietary, and still with that overtone of coolness. He didn't want her, but what she had. Yseult told herself doing the same thing to his head would probably cause more problems than it would solve.

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"No," Yseult said tersely, taking a deep breath that strained the limits of her leather vest to collect herself.

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"If you would allow me to detail the benefits of our offer-"

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"No!" the muscular woman growled sharply, standing up and leaning over the table, pointing a finger right under Tolend's nose. "I am finding your deal incredibly offensive! No matter how painless the procedure or minimal the side-effects. We do not sell our children or our potential children." Well, some certainly did on earth, but Yseult never would, and she doubted the typical Athosian would either. "I'm of the mind of ripping off one of your balls for the affront, to see how you like it. Instead, I will walk away before I do something you'll regret and advise my te- my tribe to never trade with your kind. Pray you never see me again."

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Without further word, Yseult walked away from Tolend, his jaw tight, nostrils flaring as his offer was tossed back in his face. But she had his distinct scent and tuned her hearing, locking onto any sound Tolend made. She'd be able to follow him without needing constant line of sight, barely needed any at all, able to tail him from parallel lanes.

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With the drunk/high/horny alien frat-boys and sorority sisters wandering around, it was easy enough to pick up a discarded cloak off the ground without anyone saying anything. It was a deep, rusty red, and voluminous - with the hood up and her height and the breadth of her shoulders, it concealed her gender well enough, just in case Tolend got lucky. Didn't really cut down on people trying to grope her though.

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Moving with the crowd in an economical lope, Yseult settled in to stalk her prey. She wanted to see if he approached anyone else from Atlantis or decided to make any convenient declamatory expositions meeting up with people from wherever the fuck he was from.

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Parabolic Hearing
Activating Parabolic Hearing for the Scene - 3qp.

She can increase sounds effectively by 100 for her ears alone, as well as getting +3 dice for sound-based Awareness rolls, and is able to automatically home in on the source of any sound she can hear without a roll.

QP: 27/30
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"I'm very sorry, but you're mistaken. I'm not interested." She shook her head, and instead of taking the man's outstretched hands, she ignored them.

"Of course you are! You just don't know it yet." He scooted a little closer on his knees, as if closing those three inches were going to somehow awaken her the recognition in her soul.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, as the snub became longer and move obvious. Eventually, she glanced down at his outstretched palms, then casually reached out and dropped the fetish into his palm. "You should try throwing that again. Maybe you'll hit a more appropriate woman next time."

He shook his head firmly and grabbed her hand before she could pull it away, clenching it between his sweaty palms. Her face twisted in distaste, but her impassioned suitor was bolstered by the touch. "That's not how it works, my love! I have only one throw - the woman who it strikes is to be my wife, my destined soulmate! The ritual guarantees it will strike the right woman - you need only get to know me, and you will fall as passionately in love with me as I am already falling with you!"

She tried to pulled her hand away politely, but he resisted, and she clenched her jaw and drew in a deep breath. "Alright, just to review. I can already see by looking at you you lack any exceptional attractiveness or significant physical prowess. I can surmise that your culture is skewed towards the irrational, but my culture has it's own mythologies and unrealistic superstitions, I suppose. So are you considered a great scholar or inventor amongst your people? A politician or person with the strength of charisma to have achieved great power somehow?"

He blinked slightly, and shook his head, taking a moment to catch up with everything she had just implied. "N-no. I am just a humble merchant."

She tugged at her hand again firmly, and this time managed to pull it from the man's overly-damp grip. "Then I assure you, I have no interest in a romantic or sexual relationship of any kind."

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The first room was a small vestibule, black-veined white marble flooring and columns with plush red fabrics hanging in the room that pulled in the decadent feel hinted at by the exterior into the room with a grand, Romanesque feel. A large semi-circle desk dominated the left side of the room with an ornate fountain with a statue of intertwined lovers balancing the room across from the desk. Heavy crimson curtains hung down over the archway leading deeper into the building. Well-muscled and guards, one male and one female, flanked the archway, and an officious looking man in a well-cut suit that had the same colors and trim as Lobelia's tunic gave Gabrell a warm smile as the small party made their way in.

"Miss Gabrell," he said in smooth Ancient, his accent canted so that he almost sounded like Inoae, "welcome home." He stepped around the table and nodded to Bates, glancing briefly at Inoae, but letting his eyes slip away from her and back to him without an actual greeting to her. "And welcome to you and yours, sir. I am Bertram, famulus of this open theatre, Puniceis." The name was pronounced with pride but sounded like some stinky French cheese to Bates. Poo-nich-ay-ee. "Shall you be joining Gabrell inside the theatre today, sir?"

The question brought Bates away from the mental image of white-and-blue cheeses he never did understand how people could eat and back to focus on the uptight doorkeeper. "Uh, yeah, I suppose so."

Bertram had a good poker face, Bates would grudgingly admit, but after having Inoae dropped on his lap he was becoming the master of understated expressions. Bertram was trying very hard not to laugh at him and Inoae. Inoae - and Weir - were marathoners in teaching him not to strangle every little twit that annoyed him. Bertram motioned back to the desk and series of small boxes arrayed on the table, each one filled with different forms of currency. He looked Bates over again and pulled forward a larger wooden box with satin inlays and several smaller internal compartments. Different kinds of beads rattled in their individual compartments, including a number like the ones the Athosians had traded the Expedition for. "The door fee today is six beads."

Bates blinked and shot a look at Gabrell, expecting her to step in. She had invited him to this place, right? Gabrell blinked back at him and smiled. "This is Leon's first time to a theater, Bertram," she explained smoothly.

"Ah, yes," he nodded to Gabrell and looked to Bates with a polite professionalism. "Theatres are, as I hope Gabrell has at least intimated, are places for those of discerning and particular tastes to entertain themselves and each other on Kastar. To enter a theatre, there is a door fee. For that, you may circulate in the courtyard and open rooms wearing," he reached over to a silver-chased box, flicking open the lock and opening the lid with a practiced movement and pulling out two thin grey-beaded bracelets, "these. In the courtyard you'll be able to view the open rooms, which will each have a theme, both in the activities of the room and in the color. If you would like access to the rooms in the theatre that share that theme, you may purchase a bracelet of that color from any of the satelles moving around the courtyard."

Bertram left the bracelets laid out on his palm and the box of beads open next to him. Bates would have left - he didn't like feeling suckered into paying just to walk into a building and he could still hear the sound of Gabrell's slap in the back of his mind - but they were here to gather information and so far this was his best lead. He pulled out the pouch of beads, carefully counting them out in his his hand. When he started to add the seventh bead to the pile in his hand, Bertram made a polite noise and scooped out the half-dozen beads somehow without actually touching Bates' skin. "The door fee is only for guests, sir. Your familiaris enters with you."

The beads clinked into the box and Bertram slipped the grey bracelet onto Bates' wrist with that same touchless trick, tying off the ends with a twist of his fingers that somehow tied off the bracelet in a knot Leon couldn't quite follow in just a glance. Bertram motioned for Inoae to hold out her arm and the not-so-waifish-anymore blonde skittered behind her commanding officer, finally overwhelmed by too many new things in the day. She whispered something to the large man, who tensed and frowned. Bertram and Gabrell exchanged glances and Bertram easily shifted his motion, laying the bracelet in Bates' hand. "If you would, sir, she cannot enter without wearing the bracelet."

Bates wondered if this was going to be one of those times with Inoae; a breakdown right now would be both irritating and the proof he could take to Weir to prove that Inoae shouldn't be being sent on missions. He tugged her out from behind him and held up her arm, watching her carefully as he tied the bracelet around her wrist. He murmured a word to her, the lift in his intonation marking it as a question, and the quiet girl answered with the same word, but as a statement. He wasn't sure if he should be happy or upset that the moment had passed without a total meltdown, but it had passed and Gabrell was already threading an arm through his and leading them past the heavy curtains.

The hallway cut through to the center of the building, large sensual paintings lining the walls and ending with another pair of curtains, these drawn and held by thick cords, at the end. It opened up into a center courtyard, sunshine streaming through the glass ceiling; each level of the building making a teir of walkway and rooms that were open into the courtyard. No other lights were lit in the courtyard itself, though there were what looked like gas lamps placed around the walkways on the floor level. The rooms each had their own lamps or candles, or enticing dimness, to highlight the colors and particular theme of activities of the room, and there were people everywhere. It was like a microcosm of the bazaar, only somehow with even less clothing or inhibitions. And a lot more...well, it would take a dozen sex stores on Earth to keep this place in business, even just for a week.

Bates stared, trying to take the all-ness of it in without blushing purple or actually making eye-contact with anyone. Gabrell watched the pair curiously and Lobelia attentively watched her lanistae. And Inoae, in her infinite aptitude for making the overwhelming and awkward flounder over into the realm of the utterly surreal, picked out one of the more well-lit rooms on the third floor where several men and women were tied to an entire bedroom of furniture and be tended to in a number of creatively carnal ways by enthusiastically diligent partners and pointed to it. "Are we to be having sex here, s-Leon?" she asked curiously.

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