Interlude – War of Words Part 3
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Thomas Whitlock
Post Details
ON:
Thomas looked at the front of the bar again then stepped inside. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the lighting then made his way to the bar. He pulled the PADD out of his pocket as he sat down and looked around for Yolanthe.
The bar's owner came down the stairs from the upper mezzanine. "I'm sorry, we're closed for the -" she realised it was Thomas and stopped. "Hello again. Did you find anything interesting?"
"I just did," Thomas replied, looking at her and giving her a wink. "As for the investigation, there isn't much," he added, holding up the PADD with his notes.
"Damn," Yolanthe sighed and slid into the seat opposite him. "because whoever did this didn't just spray my windows. Whatever they used etched them too. What do you think of that?"
"I think it was uncalled for," Thomas replied as he called up the data on the PADD.
"So what did you find out?" Yolanthe leaned forward to look at his PADD.
Thomas looked at her for a moment and smiled, enjoying the view she was providing for him. A moment later he turned to the PADD and said. "A couple of humanoids visited the bar about 5 this morning," he said to her, turning the PADD slightly so she could see it better.
"Well that narrows it down by about five thousand people. Only another fifty thousand to go." Yolanthe sat back, looking unhappy. "What are you going to do now?"
"There are more cameras in the area," Thomas said to her. "Perhaps I can see if I can get access to them."
"Thank you." She scrubbed a yellow grey hand through straw coloured hair. She wondered if she should mention the sabotage in her holosuites, and then decided against it. "What happens then. The last time I tried talking to security about people I spotted being suspicious on camera, they weren't terribly interested."
"Then we find someone else that can help us," Thomas replied.
She kept her doubt on that regard to herself. The downside of living on a Starfleet station was that civilians were not a priority. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"
Thomas thought about it for a moment and said, "Do you know anyone that would want to do this to you?"
She sighed, and turned from dirty yellow to teal as she thought about it. "I don't know. I wouldn't have thought I'd have been here long enough to upset anyone. I assumed it was just kids being little shits."
"That's obviously not the case," Thomas replied, referring to the men in the video.
She drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm not popular with the Merchants Association at the moment"
"Why is that?" he asked, making a note on the PADD.
"The night the bombs went off there was riot in my bar. Thanks to some rabble rousers, the PMA turned on the Fleeters and the two Ambassadors who were having a drink. I waded in on the Ambassadors' side, not theirs, and we haven't really been on speaking terms since.
"Perhaps I can see if I can find someone within their ranks that would be willing to talk to me," he said to her. He really wanted to find out who had done this to her, and not just because he hoped she would be grateful enough to finally give in and sleep with him. He found himself genuinely concerned about her.
She made a face. "Rather you than me. I still haven't had an apology or any compensation for the mess they made." She got up again, needing to get on with work. "I hope they aren't as uncivil to you as they are to me. Good Luck."
"I'll see what I can do, Yolanthe," Thomas said as he watched her stand up. "I'll be back as soon as I know something more. If you need me just let me know," he added as he stood up and started walking to the door.
---------
The Promenade Merchants Association office was an exercise in minimalist design so severe that it made the term 'spartan' imply 'overdecorated'. An administrator sat an almost empty frosted glass desk, and she was dressed to match the decor. An Andorian woman with short white hair cut into a severe, sharp, bob, and a face made out of sharp angles, she looked to Thomas as if she'd been carved from the very ice of her homeworld.
"How may I help you?" She asked him, in a tone so cool you could almost see the wisps of frozen air coming off the words.
"Thomas Whitlock," he said, stepping closer and extending his hand to her.
She shook his hand, a brief perfunctory squeeze, with enough force to be noticeable without crushing fingers. "Eris Tah."
Thomas smiled and nodded. "What exactly is this place?" he asked, looking around the room.
"This is the Promenade Merchants Association," Tah told him in tones that could freeze nitrogen. "We represent the interest of the business community here to Starfleet and other organizations. Are you seeking membership?"
"That depends," he said to her. "What do you do for the businesses?" he asked. "Do you encourage patronage between your members? Do you charge dues? What about protection? If something happens to one of the businesses do you help bring the culprits to justice?"
Tah touched a perfectly manicured white fingernail to a button on the desk. A PADD materialised between them. "Our membership details are there. In summary, we promote the businesses to the population, encourage sharing of best practice between members, and represent them in dealings with Starfleet or other powers, such as the consulates. If our members are the subject of a crime, we offer insurance and legal advice when dealing with the Lieutenant Commander and his deputies." She pushed the PADD towards him.
"So you don't actually do anything in the event of trouble other than give advice?" Thomas asked as he picked up the PADD and scanned it. "What about something like what happened to the Box of Delights? How would you handle something like that?"
The Andorian woman gave a smile not unlike the sort you would find on insects that ate their mates. "The defacement? For our members, we would put them in touch with the appropriate people to repair the damage, as well as suggest likely suspects to security. We are aware of the usual trouble makers after all."
She looked Thomas up and down, also in a fashion that put Thomas is mind of cannibalistic insects. "Unfortunately, in the case of the owner of that establishment, she is not a member, and therefore we are under no obligation to assist."
"If she were a member," Thomas said to her, "who would you say did something like that? I wouldn't want something like that happening to one of my businesses and it would be useful to know who would do that kind of thing."
"and what is your business, Mr Whitlock?"
"I haven't decided what business to open yet," Thomas replied, choosing not to reveal his true profession just yet. "I'm just trying to get a feel for the area." He looked at her for a moment and said, "You didn't answer my question, though.'
"And if I were to provide you with an answer, what would you do for me?"
Thomas looked at her and smiled. "What would you like? I could provide you with my services as an investigator," he suggested. "Or I could give you money, or pleasure," he added with a wink.
"Ah. You are a prostitute." Tah didn't sound like she considered that any less valid or interesting, than being a green grocer. "I understand your interest in the incident."
"Prostitute?" Thomas asked, looking at her. "I wouldn't exactly put it that way," he said to her. "I prefer to look at it as an exchange of services. You provide the information I want and I can provide you with a little pleasure and we both walk away happy. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
"Prostitution is exactly how I would put it. You are offering sex in exchange for money, goods or services." The Andorian was looking at him. "Turn around."
Thomas looked confused for a moment then turned around slowly, holding his arms out a little from his sides. "Well?"
"Adequate." She summarised her opinion of him. "How is your pain tolerance?"
"I can tolerate pain well enough," he said to her. "I guess it would depend how much pain we're talking about and in what context."
Tah narrowed her eyes. "I would expect someone in your profession to know exactly what context. What do you really do, Mr Whitlock?"
"I just meant that sexual pain is easy enough to handle," Thomas said, ignoring the question. "Pain during torture is another matter entirely."
The Andorian sat back, tapping a finger against her lips and looking thoughtful. "So now we each have an unanswered question. And since honesty is the basis of all relationships, I suggest you answer mine, and I'll answer yours."
Thomas looked at her and nodded. "As I said, I'm an investigator. Sometimes I write my investigations down and submit them to the news service." He paused and looked at her again. "And I truly am interested in starting a business. I just haven't decided what type yet."
Her eyes narrowed even further as she listened to his description and put two and two together. "Hmm. If Ibalin was a member of the PMA, we would probably be mentioning Gral Leffin to Security right about now. He's been known to deface other properties with Cardassian links. I would love to tell you where to find him, but he's known truant. He's normally picked up for shoplifting once a month or so."
Thomas smiled at her and nodded. "You still up for a little fun?" he asked her, glancing down at her body.
She gave him a cold look that promised retribution for such lechery. "Do you have a card Mr Whitlock?"
Thomas nodded and pulled a card from his pocket, brushing her hand as he handed it to her.
"I will contact you later." She told him. "I intend to examine exactly how much context you can handle."
OFF
A JP between:
Thomas Whitlock
FNS Reporter
&
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner of the Box of Delights
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Thomas Whitlock
Post Details
| Title | War of Words Part 3 | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Thomas Whitlock | |
| Posted | Mon Jun 28, 2010 @ 10:19pm | |
| Location | Various | |
| Timeline | SD25 - afternoon |
Thomas looked at the front of the bar again then stepped inside. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the lighting then made his way to the bar. He pulled the PADD out of his pocket as he sat down and looked around for Yolanthe.
The bar's owner came down the stairs from the upper mezzanine. "I'm sorry, we're closed for the -" she realised it was Thomas and stopped. "Hello again. Did you find anything interesting?"
"I just did," Thomas replied, looking at her and giving her a wink. "As for the investigation, there isn't much," he added, holding up the PADD with his notes.
"Damn," Yolanthe sighed and slid into the seat opposite him. "because whoever did this didn't just spray my windows. Whatever they used etched them too. What do you think of that?"
"I think it was uncalled for," Thomas replied as he called up the data on the PADD.
"So what did you find out?" Yolanthe leaned forward to look at his PADD.
Thomas looked at her for a moment and smiled, enjoying the view she was providing for him. A moment later he turned to the PADD and said. "A couple of humanoids visited the bar about 5 this morning," he said to her, turning the PADD slightly so she could see it better.
"Well that narrows it down by about five thousand people. Only another fifty thousand to go." Yolanthe sat back, looking unhappy. "What are you going to do now?"
"There are more cameras in the area," Thomas said to her. "Perhaps I can see if I can get access to them."
"Thank you." She scrubbed a yellow grey hand through straw coloured hair. She wondered if she should mention the sabotage in her holosuites, and then decided against it. "What happens then. The last time I tried talking to security about people I spotted being suspicious on camera, they weren't terribly interested."
"Then we find someone else that can help us," Thomas replied.
She kept her doubt on that regard to herself. The downside of living on a Starfleet station was that civilians were not a priority. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"
Thomas thought about it for a moment and said, "Do you know anyone that would want to do this to you?"
She sighed, and turned from dirty yellow to teal as she thought about it. "I don't know. I wouldn't have thought I'd have been here long enough to upset anyone. I assumed it was just kids being little shits."
"That's obviously not the case," Thomas replied, referring to the men in the video.
She drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm not popular with the Merchants Association at the moment"
"Why is that?" he asked, making a note on the PADD.
"The night the bombs went off there was riot in my bar. Thanks to some rabble rousers, the PMA turned on the Fleeters and the two Ambassadors who were having a drink. I waded in on the Ambassadors' side, not theirs, and we haven't really been on speaking terms since.
"Perhaps I can see if I can find someone within their ranks that would be willing to talk to me," he said to her. He really wanted to find out who had done this to her, and not just because he hoped she would be grateful enough to finally give in and sleep with him. He found himself genuinely concerned about her.
She made a face. "Rather you than me. I still haven't had an apology or any compensation for the mess they made." She got up again, needing to get on with work. "I hope they aren't as uncivil to you as they are to me. Good Luck."
"I'll see what I can do, Yolanthe," Thomas said as he watched her stand up. "I'll be back as soon as I know something more. If you need me just let me know," he added as he stood up and started walking to the door.
---------
The Promenade Merchants Association office was an exercise in minimalist design so severe that it made the term 'spartan' imply 'overdecorated'. An administrator sat an almost empty frosted glass desk, and she was dressed to match the decor. An Andorian woman with short white hair cut into a severe, sharp, bob, and a face made out of sharp angles, she looked to Thomas as if she'd been carved from the very ice of her homeworld.
"How may I help you?" She asked him, in a tone so cool you could almost see the wisps of frozen air coming off the words.
"Thomas Whitlock," he said, stepping closer and extending his hand to her.
She shook his hand, a brief perfunctory squeeze, with enough force to be noticeable without crushing fingers. "Eris Tah."
Thomas smiled and nodded. "What exactly is this place?" he asked, looking around the room.
"This is the Promenade Merchants Association," Tah told him in tones that could freeze nitrogen. "We represent the interest of the business community here to Starfleet and other organizations. Are you seeking membership?"
"That depends," he said to her. "What do you do for the businesses?" he asked. "Do you encourage patronage between your members? Do you charge dues? What about protection? If something happens to one of the businesses do you help bring the culprits to justice?"
Tah touched a perfectly manicured white fingernail to a button on the desk. A PADD materialised between them. "Our membership details are there. In summary, we promote the businesses to the population, encourage sharing of best practice between members, and represent them in dealings with Starfleet or other powers, such as the consulates. If our members are the subject of a crime, we offer insurance and legal advice when dealing with the Lieutenant Commander and his deputies." She pushed the PADD towards him.
"So you don't actually do anything in the event of trouble other than give advice?" Thomas asked as he picked up the PADD and scanned it. "What about something like what happened to the Box of Delights? How would you handle something like that?"
The Andorian woman gave a smile not unlike the sort you would find on insects that ate their mates. "The defacement? For our members, we would put them in touch with the appropriate people to repair the damage, as well as suggest likely suspects to security. We are aware of the usual trouble makers after all."
She looked Thomas up and down, also in a fashion that put Thomas is mind of cannibalistic insects. "Unfortunately, in the case of the owner of that establishment, she is not a member, and therefore we are under no obligation to assist."
"If she were a member," Thomas said to her, "who would you say did something like that? I wouldn't want something like that happening to one of my businesses and it would be useful to know who would do that kind of thing."
"and what is your business, Mr Whitlock?"
"I haven't decided what business to open yet," Thomas replied, choosing not to reveal his true profession just yet. "I'm just trying to get a feel for the area." He looked at her for a moment and said, "You didn't answer my question, though.'
"And if I were to provide you with an answer, what would you do for me?"
Thomas looked at her and smiled. "What would you like? I could provide you with my services as an investigator," he suggested. "Or I could give you money, or pleasure," he added with a wink.
"Ah. You are a prostitute." Tah didn't sound like she considered that any less valid or interesting, than being a green grocer. "I understand your interest in the incident."
"Prostitute?" Thomas asked, looking at her. "I wouldn't exactly put it that way," he said to her. "I prefer to look at it as an exchange of services. You provide the information I want and I can provide you with a little pleasure and we both walk away happy. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
"Prostitution is exactly how I would put it. You are offering sex in exchange for money, goods or services." The Andorian was looking at him. "Turn around."
Thomas looked confused for a moment then turned around slowly, holding his arms out a little from his sides. "Well?"
"Adequate." She summarised her opinion of him. "How is your pain tolerance?"
"I can tolerate pain well enough," he said to her. "I guess it would depend how much pain we're talking about and in what context."
Tah narrowed her eyes. "I would expect someone in your profession to know exactly what context. What do you really do, Mr Whitlock?"
"I just meant that sexual pain is easy enough to handle," Thomas said, ignoring the question. "Pain during torture is another matter entirely."
The Andorian sat back, tapping a finger against her lips and looking thoughtful. "So now we each have an unanswered question. And since honesty is the basis of all relationships, I suggest you answer mine, and I'll answer yours."
Thomas looked at her and nodded. "As I said, I'm an investigator. Sometimes I write my investigations down and submit them to the news service." He paused and looked at her again. "And I truly am interested in starting a business. I just haven't decided what type yet."
Her eyes narrowed even further as she listened to his description and put two and two together. "Hmm. If Ibalin was a member of the PMA, we would probably be mentioning Gral Leffin to Security right about now. He's been known to deface other properties with Cardassian links. I would love to tell you where to find him, but he's known truant. He's normally picked up for shoplifting once a month or so."
Thomas smiled at her and nodded. "You still up for a little fun?" he asked her, glancing down at her body.
She gave him a cold look that promised retribution for such lechery. "Do you have a card Mr Whitlock?"
Thomas nodded and pulled a card from his pocket, brushing her hand as he handed it to her.
"I will contact you later." She told him. "I intend to examine exactly how much context you can handle."
OFF
A JP between:
Thomas Whitlock
FNS Reporter
&
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner of the Box of Delights