PHD #340: Ladykiller
Summary: Shiner gets a date with Lady. And a little more than he'd bargained for.
Date: 1 Feb 2042 AE
Related Logs: Dog Squadron Catfight
Lady Shiner 
Colonial Pete's
Colonial Pete's is the long-awaited successor to Kythera's Aquarian Pete's, though this version is more bar than strip club. Not that there aren't any strippers here, in fact there's even a raised platform complete with pole built just for them. The majority of the room, however, is dominated by mis-matched tables and chairs and a long bar. Lighting is haphazard, the harsh fluorescents that came with the place usually left off in favor of lower lighting from scavenged lamps and even a bit of neon rustled up from somewhere and hung behind the bar. There's a pretty decent sound-system playing a wide variety of music, and a couple of low-tech bar games, like a mini pyramid arena.
There are always a few burly-looking guys around to keep an eye on rowdy patrons, and especially to guard the doors to the back rooms, where the stills are kept along with (rumors say) a few private alcoves for those willing to pay extra for one-on-one time with the girls.
A large black chalkboard that once adorned Cerberus' Ready Room hangs behind the bar. Scrawled on its surface beneath a crude picture of a steaming bowl are the words 'SOUP OF THE DAY: MOONSHINE.'
Post-Holocaust Day: #340

Lady leans on her cane more heavily than she has of late, the scuffle in Elpis' living quarters having tweaked something uncomfortably in her rehabilitating half-foot. Shoulders hunched, she swerves on in, managing to look predatory even in her gimpness, her limp attaining the status of a swagger. Elpis has been a pain in her ass; Elpis gets to take that pain away. Nothing like popping a few pills and washing them down with a serving of local swill to get a girl nice and numb.

Shiner is over at one of the tables beside the strippers, not that there are any strippers dancing right now but a man has to leave himself with some glimmer of hope, right? He's got a juice in one hand, and a textbook in the other, frowning in concentration as he reads, lips moving.

Lady hobbles closer, narrowing her eyes and screwing up her lips in a dismissive scowl before she flips the tip of her cane up quickly to smack the edge of the textbook cover and flip it shut. "Frakking dork. Who brings a schoolbook to a bar?" she asks him, some vague accusation hiding under her words.

Shiner blinks, drawing his hand back quickly. "Hey! Oh…" He shakes his head, running one hand through his hair and putting on his best smile. "I was early. Figured I ought to get some study in. What're you drinking?" A pause, then he remembers his manners, dragging himself to his feet and nudging out a seat for her.

"Nothing, yet," Lady grunts through the act of lowering herself into the nudged chair, going a little red-cheeked with the effort, eyes squeezed shut. Finally puffing out a breath through pursed lips, she lets her bad foot out to the side as if looking to trip passers-by, cocking her other knee out the other way and slouching down into the least ladylike posture possible. "This should be fixed," she waves her cane over toward the bar. Fetch.

Shiner throws up a casual salute in response, heading over to the bar to part with his treasured drink tokens and returning presently with a couple of beers. "If you don't like beer," he tells her, resuming his seat and sliding the drinks onto the table, "I'll have yours. What did you do your foot, anyway? Get shot or something?"

Lady eyes the beer oddly. Not what she was expecting. Not at all. But she takes up the bottle, no less, with something approaching gratitude, even. "Trod on a mine," she tells him, eyebrows wriggling upward. "S'what happens when you don't look where you're going." She reaches over to tap his bottle with hers before she cracks open the cap on the edge of the table.

Shiner taps the bottle with his own, pulling out a lighter to open it. He grins a little at her expression, asking casually, "What, you wanted a frakking pina colada or something? With an umbrella in it, maybe? Cheers." He takes a swig, then raises an eyebrow. "Seriously? Dude. So the docs have got you on light duties, huh? Paperwork and shit. Joy of joys."

The accusation of indulging in girlie drinks pulls a derisive snort from the marine. "I was kind of thinking of swilling some lighter fluid, myself, but, yanno. Beer's good." She takes a sip. "Beer's -real- good." She generally spends her vouchers on something that'll get her blitzed as quick as possible. "I'm on MP detail, now, too. Be back on the front lines as soon as I get the hang of running and climbing with this metal foot."

"You climb?" Shiner sounds surprised and more than a little pleased. "Dude, look me up any time. I'm always looking for a partner for belaying and shit."

"I was talking more… ladders and shit." Ladders still hurt. "But sure, when I get my frakking foot to cooperate, I'll go walling with you," she agrees, seeming to mellow a little with the beer she's supping at. "Heh," she does kind of snicker, though there's not a lot of force behind it. "You need a partner to take a shit? Not frakking it."

Shiner rolls his eyes at that, swigging back some beer. "Don't even. Seriously. When I got shot," he briefly touches his neck to indicate, "I had to have some frakking orderly hold my dick for me so I could piss. No joke. Of course, if you want to hold my dick for me, you're very welcome. Any time."

Oh, that's it. Lady's mouth writhes under the force of sadistic mirth, and she erupts into a hyena-like cackle, head tipping back as she gets her jollies from the other guy's travails. "Oh, frak," she sighs. "Oh, yah, you wanna come back to my bunk? You still owe me that tonguing you promised," she points at him accusingly with her cane.

Shiner tips back his beer, taking a long swallow before setting the bottle down. "Uh… yeah! Yeah, sure thing! I mean, I wouldn't want to go back on a promise, right? Besides, you're way hot. Totally!" He nods fervently, if a little nervously.

Lady takes a deep breath and lets it out in a brusque huff as she watches Shiner flail mentally, something almost like a conscience showing in her eyes as if she's just kicked a helpless little puppy and is considering whether to stop. "Have you ever eaten a chick out before?" she asks him.

Shiner reddens considerably, rubbing at the back of his neck. "What? Oh… shit, loads of times," he lies, nodding solemnly. "I'm, like, a master, me. Seriously."

Lady leans forward, dragging her bum foot up closer to the chair as she peers at Shiner. "You do know that that's not something guys generally -brag- about, right?" she lets him in on the little joke, of course not in time for his having claimed expertise in the middle of the bar.

"Uh…" Shiner replies eloquently, rubbing a hand nervously through his hair again. "Well. Uh. Right. But I'm totally cool with that. It's cool. Um. If that's what you want, I can do that. I mean, fair's fair, right?"

Lady narrows her eyes, lips pulling into an incredulous grin as she shakes her head a little bit, shoulders moving in a shrug behind the words, "What do you even -mean,- fair's fair? What have I ever done for you?"

Shiner swallows. "Uh… well. I thought… you know. If… uh. Yeah." He closes his eyes for a moment, settling his nerves. "Your bunk, then, right?" He knocks back the rest of his beer and rises to his feet, offering an arm and a crook of his head.

"Sit." Good dog. Lady takes another swig of the beer, but isn't done with it, yet, anyhow. "You thought what, if?" she pins him there, trying valiantly to draw specifics from him.

Shiner sits. Bonk. "Um. You know. If… I thought… well, you know. I figured I might, maybe, possibly, get a blow in return, you know?"

Lady stares steadily across at him, now, tonguing at a molar with a cloud drawing together on her forehead. "You think I'm a cocksucker," she posits, unable to keep an accusatory edge out of her voice. If Shiner has no qualms about degrading himself in the bedroom, well, Lady is a horse of a different color.

Shiner shrinks back a bit at that tone, swallowing. He holds up his hands, shaking his head. "Hey, hey, only if you want, right. I'm not saying you have to or anything! It's cool, it's cool! You can just… do whatever. Yeah." Because that's not leaving him in a whole heap of shit enough already right there.

Lady rolls her eyes, following the roll with her body as she leans back again. "Yeah, not gonna happen. You need to grow a dick before anyone can suck it, anyhow," she calls him out on his spinelessness, maybe just seeing if she can even get a rise out of him.

"Frak you, Lady!" Shiner retorts at that, folding his arms over his chest. "You want to see what I can do with it, I'll frakking show you. Finish your beer. We've got work to do."

Lady's nostrils flare; her eyes glisten with a mischief, but she almost smiles before the smile gets hidden under a sip of beer. So he does have some vigor to him, after all. "Storage closet off the aft auxiliary stairwell, L-deck. Go on ahead. I'll be in in ten minutes."

Shiner has been caught by this one before, and he hesitates. Where once he would have gone trotting off happily, only to stand in the closet for hours as he's stood up, apparently he's learned from the experience. "Ten minutes," he confirms with her, eyes narrowing a little. "Don't be late. I don't hang around. If you want some of this hot action, you'll be there in ten at the most." He gives her a wink and rises to his feet, stretching. Clearly he's been taking lessons from fashion magazines, and it's an obvious pose, but… hey. If you don't count the face. Or the personality. Or anything he ever says? Yeah, not bad.

Lady raises a brow. "I'll be there," she tells him, "Frak off," she dismisses him, but there's a minimum of venom behind the dismissal. It could easily be construed as friendly, even, in an abrupt, rough-vocabularied fashion. She gives him a looking over as he presents himself to her, and she cocks her head to the side as thought to admit that there are worse-looking objects to spend a half-hour in a supply closet with.

Of course, Shiner has to ruin it by giving a cheesy thumbs up as he heads out, grinning happily.

Ugh. Lady's fingers go up to tripod at her temple at the gesture. But she'll finish her beer in peace and then get to her feet, slowly and with much grimacing and grinding of teeth. Ten minutes will be about right, at her somewhat diminished pace. She's not going to tax herself to make sure to get there early, and if he can't wait a spare minute or two for a gimpy girl, well. His loss.

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