As usual, I don't own anything you recognise as from B5. All hail to JMS, the great maker.
by
Hilary Weston
Helen Kennedy weaved her way through the Zocolo, her thoughts elsewhere as she hurried to return home. Because of this, she didn't see the chair leg until she was sprawled on the floor next to it.
"Are you all right?" a chocolate velvet voice inquired from above her. "Let me help you up."
She took the hand proffered and hurriedly got to her feet. Her embarrassment was forgotten when she found herself regarded by the grey eyes of a very handsome businessman.
"Do you want to sit down for a moment?" he asked.
Helen tore herself away from those mesmerising eyes with a smile and a shake of her head.
"Thank you, no." she replied, "The only thing bruised is my pride. I must be going, but thank you for your help."
"Any time." The man held her hand for a moment longer before releasing it with a smile. He watched the woman move off, pause, look back at him, then resume her course with a small smile of her own.
A nice woman, he thought. But not someone he could use. She wasn't greedy or ambitious enough. Her thoughts though had been of the team leader of the Rigel Survey Core Mission, who had just refused her a place on the team. She was convinced the reason was she wasn't a friend of the team leader.
That sounded a more likely prospect. Perhaps he should visit this RSCM. Nepotism usually meant rich pickings for him.
He looked around the Zocolo. Each year, on this day, he visited somewhere different. It was his first visit to Babylon 5, and the variety of people had impressed him. He was sure to find some suitable clients here. Sipping his coffee, he scanned the crowd. There were a number of business people, many alien to him. He was particularly hopeful of the Centauri.
His gaze met that of another man sitting alone in the cafe. Smartly groomed, with a confident smile, there was something not quite right about him. They regarded each other for a few more moments before the man stood up and crossed to his table.
"Mr Morden." He introduced himself.
"Can I help you?"
"Just to inform you that my associates are already working in this sector of space. You may not find business as lucrative as usual."
Morden turned to leave. He reached out to stop him, wanting to know more of these associates. As soon as his hand brushed the sleeve of Morden, it was repelled with a flash of blinding darkness.
Morden turned back towards him, his smile now gone.
"As you can see, I've already sold my soul. I suggest you leave now."
Satan watched as he walked away, wondering if Morden wouldn't have been better off with him.