Messer's Choice

Audience Chamber 

Six gleaming chandeliers are suspended from the rough stone ceiling of this great cavity cut from the rock of the planetoid. The chandeliers dangle above long, polished mahogany tables with enough chairs to seat a few dozen guests. A broad expanse of floor has been set aside for an elevated stage platform and a dance area. At the far end of the chamber, mounted atop a stone dais, can be seen a tall throne with gold trim and red velvet cushions.

Messer arrives from Crevasse Overlook .

Messer has arrived.

Namura arrives from Crevasse Overlook .

Namura has arrived.

Fulton arrives from Crevasse Overlook .

Fulton has arrived.

Grim leans against the throne, flanked by a pair of Elite Guards. He nods, a predatory smile on his face. "Mr. Messer and companions. Welcome to Odysseus. Impressive flying."

Messer steps into the room, looking about. "Thanks. Impressive place you got here."

Fulton walks in, after Messer, giving the room only a small glance: his eyes focus fixedly on the man sitting on the throne.

Grim chuckles. "You made good time. That speaks well for you. So, I assume you know why I've called you here?"

Namura stays a few steps behind and to the left of Messer.

Messer nods slowly. "I have my ideas."

Grim nods toward Fulton. "Are you hiring him?"

Fulton looks at Grim coldly, keeping his arms tightly folded across his chest.

Messer looks over at Fulton. "I suppose so. If he screws up, things can be taken care of."

Grim nods. "If you don't - be sure to kill him before you leave, yes?"

Messer nods. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Grim says, "Good. Well, first things first...Guildmaster Falkenberg is a turnip."

Messer nods slowly.

Grim lifts his chin. "You're in charge now, Messer. Keep your damn body out of a turnip tube."

Fulton listens with much interest, keeping his face lacking of any movement.

Messer nods. "Sounds like a good idea to me."

Namura blinks quickly and looks on.

Grim nods. "And I've got your first mission."

Messer raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Grim smiles darkly. "Yes. Your crewmate, Jest'liana, has gone missing. I want her. Here."

Messer frowns. "Why?"

Smile fading, Grim says, "I don't believe that word should remain in your vocabulary where *I* am concerned. Because you don't want the answer."

Fulton blinks at the mention of the name, letting his arms drop to the side, slowly. Quickly, he returns to his serious posure.

Messer furrows his brow. "Oh really? You think she had something to do with Falkenberg's shooting?"

Grim gazes at Messer, his mouth a flatline like the EKG of a dead man. "Get the girl. Bring her here. Is that so difficult?"

Messer shrugs. "Maybe. I recall you and Falkenberg had a discussion like this before. And it seems to /me/ like you might be planning to go ahead with your previous plan, hoping I'll be the fool who follows orders blindly."

Grim smirks. "You could be the fool who ends up dead on the floor. Your choice."

Messer snorts. "Weighing the options, that second one seems like a better choice right now. Why do you want her?"

Fulton shoves his hands deep withing his trenchcoat's pockets, keeping his eyes unmoving from Grim.

Namura breathes slowly appearing to focus himself.

Grim shakes his head. "I want her for reasons that you don't need to know." He glances toward Fulton. "Perhaps you and the good doctor would be willing to handle this job, after we deal with Messer?"

Fulton grins, quite amusedly, unable to hold it back. "I will handle what needs to be handled. Although I'd rather do it under the orders of one who knows." Glances at Messer, then back at Grim, shruggin. "...Whatever needs to be done."

Messer rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

His gaze slithering back to Messer, Grim says, "Yes. No. Your choice."

Messer shrugs. "My choice? Fine. You want Jest, tell me why, and you got her."

Fulton glances at Messer, grin long-gone. As he answers, he looks back at Grim.

Grim arches an eyebrow. "I'll let you skate. This time. But the ice is mighty thin. Next time, you go down. I want her because she is a plant in the Smuggler's Guild."

Messer rolls his eyes. "And I'm the Ubercast of Castor."

Grim smirks. "I see. Is that a no?"

Fulton lets out his breath, realizing he had absent-mindedly held it as he awaited for Grim to act.

Namura looks confused.

Messer shrugs. "Yes, no, what does it matter? You'd get her anyway."

Grim raises both eyebrows. "Don't press me further, Messer. Yes or no?"

Messer smirks. "Yeah, sure."

Grim nods. "Good. While you're gone, I'll decide whether to shoot you anyway when you return." Grim smiles. "Nothing fatal, of course. Just memorable."

Messer mm-hmms. "You're more lenient than I'll be."

Grim fixes a dark look on Messer. "Go. Now."

Messer snorts. "Yes, mother." He turns for the doors, motioning the others to follow.

Namura nods and gulps slightly

Fulton stares at Grim for some seconds after Messer turns, then, with a small grin, he turns and follows.