[ THISAVROU: INBOX ] MID messages & IC mail

[forwardmomentum]

I N B O X

IC Voice Mail "Personnel Officer Miles here. If this is a personal matter, leave a message; if it's ship business-related, may I direct you to the Personnel Office's suggestion box. Sending me a barrage of texts will not make me respond to you any faster, so don't, Ivan." Mun Contact PLURK:   runawayballista

Comments

[forwardmomentum]

[ mister isn't the correct form of address if nihlus is trying to be formal, but miles isn't about to tell nihlus to call him lord -- it seems a little tactless here. ]

Just Miles is fine. [ is what he says instead, a shrug in his voice. ] Come by the bar later, I'll scrounge up a few things for you. We've amassed quite the stock over the last few months.

[beautifulspaceraptor]

[That's more likely to garner a turian version of a raised brow here, buddy.]

As soon as I am done with this round of repairs I'll be up. See you then, Miles.

[It's a couple of hours before Nihlus does show up. He's just peeled himself out of his armor and is in his thermals, still warm from the engine room and smelling of grease and hot metals.

He leans against the counter and peers over the bar. It's not too crowded right now, which hopefully means that the person he was looking for wasn't too busy.]

Hello?

[forwardmomentum]

[ miles is probably not what nihlus was expecting for a human, but then, he rarely is. standing at only a meager height of 4'9, the crooked spine and leg braces over his uniform hint at the underlying brittle bones he's had all his life. his head's a little too big for body, mismatched with the short neck, and though he's only twenty-six, the lines on his face make him look some indeterminately older age. he's standing up on one of the step-stools he has behind the bar so he can effectively see over it, and he gives nihlus a rather informal salute. if he doesn't look all that surprised by nihlus's appearance, it's because he's not, but only because he's been through the turian's personnel file at one point or another. you get to match names to faces pretty quick when it's your job to know all the crew. ]

Nihlus, right? Pleased to meet you. [ he gives nihlus a sharp grin bordering on manic that animates his somewhat odd-looking face. ] Come on over and let's see what I can do for you, eh?

oh gosh sorry about the slowness

[beautifulspaceraptor]

[There weren't a lot of people being born with birth defects anymore in the universe Nihlus had come from. In-utero genetic finangling was relatively cheap and very common.

There's curiosity on his face as he watches the man approach.]

Miles. [One of his mandibles quirk in an alien smile, his tones warm as he moves closer.] The pleasure is mine. You're about to save me from some potential human and alcohol related faux pas after all.

NO WORRIES AT ALL

[forwardmomentum]

[ genetic finagling and uterine replicators are pretty much the only reason they don't have to carry miles around in a bucket these days. this is as good as it gets for him. for the time being, anyway. miles returns the strange smile with a tilt of his eye, eyebrows arching in amusement. ]

Oh? Just what sort of faux pas?

[beautifulspaceraptor]

Well. Human birthday celebrations. What levels of alcoholic content are suitable for those?

[Because there's 'fancy' drinks and then there's 'smash your face off partying' drinks and while Nihlus is quite familiar with the Turian range of things, he's not so knowledgeable with human drinks.]

[forwardmomentum]

Where I come from, all of them. Preferably the higher ones. [ miles flashes him a slightly manic grin, his eyes lit up. ] It's sort of a cultural pastime on Barrayar. Getting Vorishly drunk is an activity suitable to all occasions.