Am I drawing this out? Just to be evil? Nah. Not meeeeee.
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Mark sighed and sat back further in his seat. He picked up his beer and contemplated taking another swig, but set it down again untasted. Instead, he let his eyes roam the interior of the room, his gaze take in the shadowed bar and the deeper shadows that lurked in the corners. He couldn't see anyone well enough to make them out and it made him antsy. The only clue for him that there were more people in the room was the level of ambient noise and half-unseen shapes he caught in the corner of his eye.
Of course, he was sitting close to the stage, and that was playing merry hell with his night vision, but still. It was obnoxious.
He picked up his beer again, this time downing the last couple swallows. He set the empty bottle down and made vague motions towards the bar, hoping that someone saw him and he wasn't just making a fool of himself.
He turned and looked at Anne again. She looked so intent up on stage, her hands playing over the strings, her head bent over the instrument when she wasn't singing. There was that little furrow of concentration on her brow, the one she got when she was trying too hard. They finished up the song they were playing, and he clapped half-heartedly. They were so much better when she was less self-conscious, he thought.
Someone came by carrying a couple bottles, and he turned to pay.
Then was slightly shocked.
"W-why, hello, Mr. Herman," he stammered out. His boss had shucked the three piece suit and tie for jeans and a rumpled button-down shirt, but he still looked slightly out of place. It came from him being one of the Lost Ship members; they never got over their unease around people they didn't know. So Mark wasn't surprised that he took a seat at his table. Just surprised that he was in the bar at all. And that he had clothes other than a three piece suit.
"Just Jeremy," he said, placing one of the bottles before Mark. He looked younger here than he did in his office, and Mark could decide if it was the lighting or the more relaxed atmosphere.
"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly, hoping that his voice didn't carry onto stage.
"I thought I would see for myself the little prodigal. A singing plant; who would have thought." His gaze flicked to Anne then back to Mark. "Someone needs to keep an eye on her, and so far you've not been doing the best of jobs."
Mark sighed and looked at the table. "She was just out getting that dress, sir."
"Are you sure?"
"She didn't have any clothes with her when she left her apartment, and I know that she hadn't bought that dress weekend before last."
"Are you sure that she got it now? That the dress is all she bought?"
"Pretty sure."
"We can't take pretty sure to the council. We need to know what she's up to, and that means you need to take better care to go where she does, and when she does."
"Yes, sir."
Jeremy sat back in his seat and looked up at the stage for a moment. "She looks very nice up there," he commented.
And she did. The red of the dress, coupled with the lights on the stage, brought out red highlights in her hair, made it look like she was a fire sprite. The dress was sleeveless, the better to let her move to work the instrument. The neck was high in the front, decorously covering her collarbones, but the back was open to her waist. The expanse of flesh that was shown was pale white, the better to contrast with the dress. The skirt was of the same fabric, but covered with a black lace that muted the shimmer of the bodice. All told, she looked lovely.
After a song, Jeremy sighed. "I looked over one of those apples you brought in. It was healthier than we have been able to produce in the greenhouses, and you say that it was from an open air grove?"
"It was."
"And she made it?"
"She claims to have, and I see no reason to doubt her word. She was very easy there, very used to the place."
Jeremy sighed, then cautiously introduced a touchy subject. "I know you like the woman. She seems rather admirable. But we need more than an apple to convince the council that she, that they should live. I need more than an apple."
"They can heal."
"So they can. And I must admit that weighs heavily in their favor. The only problem is, they can, but will they?"
"You will need to ask her that."
"I know. But do I trust her to give me the truth? What's to stop her from running off when her part in this project is over?"
"I don't know. She said that she wants to terraform Gunsmoke."
"Useful. No doubt that the planet could be made more hospitable. But we've been working towards the same goal. Why would we need plants to do it for us?"
"You said it yourself, sir. Her apple is healthier than any we have." Mark paused, then ventured something he had been pondering before his boss joined him. "Perhaps we are looking at this the wrong way."
His boss looked at him sharply, but motioned for him to continue. "Instead of finding reasons to validate their existence, perhaps we should be looking for reasons to kill them."
Jeremy looked at him oddly. "I think we have the reasons we need."
"For Knives, yes. But Vash? Alex? Anne? What have they done?"
"Vash is the humanoid typhoon. You might remember that."
"And what trouble has he caused in the past couple decades? Now that no one is pursuing him?"
Jeremy sighed. "Whose side are you on, Mark?" he asked bluntly.
Mark thought for a moment, then looked at the woman singing on stage. "I wish I knew, sir."