In front of Jet, stood both Edie and Spike with their guns raised at one another. Aside from the intensity of the presenting matter, Jet found the situation quite amusing. On one side, there was a lanky 6'1 guy with his Jericho 941 and on the other side, a petite 5' girl with her Desert Eagle 44 Magnum pistol. Both refused to back down.

"Who the hell is she/he?" they chorused in unison, neither easing their guns down nor tearing their sight away from Jet.

Oh boy, they are a lot more alike than I thought, Jet let out a big sigh, but not in relief.

"Well, I'll be damned. Spike?" Jet's gruff voice boomed across the dead silent room.

Jet walked over to break up the Mexican stand-off. "Alright, Edie, you can put down your pistol. He's friend, not foe. Well, at least I hope." Jet raised an eyebrow at Spike and in return Spike placed his Jericho onto the makeshift coffee table, opening up his arms in a gregarious fashion. Jet got a hardy laugh out of that.

"So, who's the kid?" Questioned Spike, sticking out his thumb at Edie.

"Kid?!" Edie arose her pulsating fist at Spike. "Why, I oughta," she grumbled.

"Edie," Jet intervened, sternly. Edie swooped right from behind Spike, all the while elbowing him in his side.

"Ah! Watch it, brat." Spike rubbed his tender side.

"Edie, this is Spike. Spike, this is Edie."

Both nodded at each other as sign of salutation.


Spike sprawled himself on the yellow couch and rummaged in his suit jacket for his pack of cigarettes. "Another kid, Jet? I'm quite surprised. One was enough."

Spike spoke casually towards the ceiling while nursing a cigarette between his weighing lips. At the word "kid", Edie cringed. She wanted to sass back with something but Jet waved out a hand to sustain her. Edie remained still in return.

"Speaking of extra baggage, where's Faye, Jet?" continued Spike.

At hearing her name, Jet's movement slowed and he grimaced. He sat himself across Spike. Jet no longer regarded Spike but turned his attention to his own hands. He examined and followed the fine lines of the rough palm of his fleshly hand. Then he peered at the palm of the hand of the prosthetic arm. The palm was simply smooth, devoid of fine lines.

"She left, Spike." Jet coolly replied, not tearing his eyes away from his two opposing hands.

Edie lingered around the two men, resting aside one of the ship's staircases. The air suddenly seemed so heavy.

"Left?" Though Spike's voice held no hint of surprise, he shifted uncomfortably. He flipped over to now face Jet.

"What do you mean?"

Spike slouched back into the couch, taking in long drags of his cigarette. Jet stalled, looking longingly onto Spike's cigarette. Edie, who watched the encounter, walked off towards the main hall leaving the old friends at bay.

Jet felt relief at Edie's exit from the room or more likely, out of the conversation. It's not that Jet didn't feel comfortable around his new comrade, but this topic was meant between old comrades.

"Two weeks after you left. She just packed her stuff and took off in her Red Tail. Hasn't been back since."

Jet wasn't one to make friends, especially since his closest friend and partner betrayed him and his girlfriend walked out on him so many years ago. He also wasn't one to get emotional about things. Yet, he genuinely cared for Faye. Sure, she was a pain in the ass and a hell of a complainer, but Jet recognized what she was seeking. She was searching for herself and a lost forgotten past. Those drives only blinded her from seeing what she needed to be looking for and that was for a future. Jet thought she'd find some sort of future or an idea for a future in pursuits with the Bebop. And maybe she did...in Spike. Jet warned her constantly of Spike. But, was she one to listen?

"Hmmm..." was all Jet could get out of Spike. Spike appeared too preoccupied with his cigarette to care for any other sort of reply. He took another deep drag and blew out smoke as he nestled his head on the couch, watching the fan twirl above him.


Edie entered Jet's quarters to snatch his cigars that rested on top of the quarter's desk. She didn't bother to admire his extensive collection of bonsai trees, as she usually tended to do, as she headed towards its exit.

Jet's not the only one who needs a smoke around here. Edie's lips watered at the thought of the taste of straight tobacco. Rather than head back to the common area to fetch Jet a smoke and return to the awkwardness of their private conversation, Edie thought to fetch her own smoke. She returned to the kitchen, no longer craving coffee. Her cigarettes were stored in the kitchen due to the kitchen being deemed the only place suitable for rolling them. Edie fancied rolling her own cigarettes over buying them. It was a buzz to taste pure, untreated tobacco. A handful were already rolled up and ready to be smoked. Edie opened her locked case, that was hidden within one of the lower cabinets, and took out a tobacco doobie.

"Spike, eh?" The smoke seeped through her pursed lips.

Instead of making a hasting reappearance, Edie decided it would be in her best interest to pull up a seat in the kitchen to enjoy her tobacco. With each passing drag, she continued to repeat his name as if to jumpstart her memory. And indeed, she did. She remembered where she had heard that name before, along with three other names, and of camaraderie.

Camaraderie. A smile formed between her loose lips, along with another puff of smoke. She liked that word. Never knew what it meant nor had even any prior knowledge of existence of such a word. That, of course, was until Edie and Jet shared a couple of beers in one of Ganymede's bars.

Edie had noted that Jet wasn't one to disclose personal information since joining the Bebop. It didn't bother her none, since, she too, didn't intend on revealing anything about her or her past life either. But after another successful bounty in Jet's home planet, a celebration was imminent, along with alcohol. Alcohol has a funny effect on people. The once private and stern Jet, turned bubbly and warm. Not quite outright bubbly and warm as in a teenage girl, but rather more talkative and inviting. Though he did not tell her everything, he explained to her that there had been a time when the Bebop crew entailed more than just him. At one time, the Bebop housed four other individuals. The presence in which Jet spoke of them proved that they were more than mere freeloaders hitching a ride. They were comrades. They were some sort of a rag tag family. The Bebop was once a melting pot of personalities, abilities and talents. A dog, a kid, a woman, a man and ultimately, Daddy Jet. In Edie's opinion, it was Jet that was the link that connected the odd squad together. Him and the Bebop.

Her smile extended even wider as she returned to the present. She, likewise, owed it to Jet and the Bebop. He was her comrade. He was her family. Though all he loved had abandoned him, she swore to herself and to the ends of the universe that she would never abandon him. It was the least she could do to thank him for what he had done for her.

Edie wandered into the common area with Jet's cigar along with her own cigarette perched between her two lips. As she carelessly held out the cigar to him, Spike perked his head up to face her. Jet nodded at her as he retrieved it from her small hands and fished for his lighter.

"A kid like you shouldn't be smoking." Spike snickered, inhaling a long drag.

Edie cursed his cool demeanor. She strolled on passed seated Jet, towards the yellow couch which Spike slumped himself in. All the while, letting out small puffs of smoke. Spike paid her no mind, rather he continued paying more attention to the cigarette his fingers securely grasped. As Edie neared Spike's face, she took in a long drag of her own cigarette and exhaled all smoke that her drag had produced.

"Thanks, mom." She smiled deviously.

"Hmph..." Snorted Spike, waving the smoke from his face.

Jet's tongue clicked at the sight of them.

Same game, just different players.