He admitted to himself that he was curious. Curious enough to check out her ship among other things, so he stayed at the bar till closing and in the early hours of the morning made his way down the docking corridor to the ship named ROGUE. He liked the name.
The security interface at the passenger access door was standard and he was able to override it after a few minutes of tinkering. There was a small hydraulic hiss signaling his success and he pulled the door down in one strong fluid motion.
The inside was about what he expected. There was a lower level cargo bay with catwalks above that seemed to lead to rooms, and one obviously led to the cockpit. The bay was empty so he crept quietly up the grated stairs and inspected the living areas. The cockpit was small, seated two comfortably, with four jump seats that could be pulled out of the wall. Everything was tidy and put away but it wasn't too sterile. A bobble head doll of a little geisha girl stood, glued to the dash between the seats, and a few popular books rested in a console cubby along with some pens and gum.
He picked one up. Sanctuary - Faulkner. He supposed that was impressive. He looked at the next one, Reforming a Rake, and laughed silently to himself, then turned to inspect the rest of the ship. Following the ringed catwalk around he came to an open area with comfortable chairs and a side table that faced out at a large viewing window. After that came rooms with closed sliding doors. One, two, with nothing inside but bare shelves, then three…this one was slid ajar a few inches and he peeked inside. The girl was right there, illuminated by the distant lights of the station shining through the cockpit windows, lying on a foam mat on the floor under a thin cotton blanket facing him, so that he sucked a breath in when he saw her, but her eyes were closed and she was sleeping peacefully. He looked at her for a long time, then by the power of some fey impulse he crept a little closer, first crouching, then moving forward on hands and knees.
She was beautiful, and like all beautiful creatures she was even more striking while asleep, when all care and worry was far away and there was nothing on her face but the blissful expression of the innocent at rest. Or so it always seemed to him. He let his eyes wander down the silhouette of her body, the cleavage pressed up by her arms and peeking through her thin tank top. He lingered a little too long and felt like he should be ashamed but wasn't…then that he should be ashamed for not being ashamed…but wasn't…and so on. The tale-spin of absurd reduction that happens when we desire to have different desires.
He pulled back to a crouch, then stood, turned, and walked on to the fourth door finding the same bare accommodations as the first two rooms. He assumed that she lived alone on this ship, which seemed unlikely, but all the evidence pointed to it, and he wanted to believe his pretty would-be employer might need an itch scratched.
After the rooms there was another open space that housed a kitchen and dining area. The counters were bare but the cupboards were full of dehydrated goodies, which he perused at length, stashing a few food bars in his pockets. The refrigerator even had some fresh oranges in it so he decided to help himself to one…call it an advanced payment, but as he reached for it he heard the telltale click and whine of a plasma rifle behind him.
Fuck.
He had already started to raise his hands when the man behind him spoke.
"Hands where I can see them." Came the slightly accented voice. Strangely he was less worried about being caught than he was annoyed that there was a man floating around.
"Turn around slowly."
He gracefully pivoted on his heels in a slow half circle like a ballet dancer might. The man pointing the rifle at him was lean and swarthy, perhaps his own height with black hair and striking brown eyes so pale they would be called golden.
"Who do you work for." The rifleman said.
He had expected "Who are you." "What are you doing here." "Why shouldn't I kill you?" Or something of the like. Instead "Who do you work for?" It betrayed some hidden secret of identity or affiliation. It was…interesting.
"I work for myself homme." A recent truth that both thrilled him and terrified him to admit.
"So you're robbing us."
"Non," He said in a placating tone, "jus' checkin' you out is all. Your lady friend inquired about my services." And he gave an impertinent stare meant to intimidate any boyfriend. The rifleman seemed unphased however and instead tilted his head slightly and called out a name.
"Anna!"
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