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One of them. I am the senior officer, though. [ yes, the senior beverage dissemination officer. ha. ] I take it you're not looking for a drink.

[Ah yes. She's already met Jacky. That didn't go well]

I won't refuse if you want to offer.

But I want to work there.

[ and miles would pay good money to have been able to watch that one. ]

Well, I'd certainly be the man to talk to. Why don't you come up to the Personnel Office? I'm not just a bartender, you know.

Sure thing. Where is it?

[Because let's face it. J would take ages to find the place on her own.]

Same deck as the library, one door down. Your MID should have a map.

same deck as the library, one door down. your MID should have a map.

[ and miles will be waiting in his office when she gets there. hi, j, meet your personnel officer -- the strange-looking not-quite-hunchbacked little man sitting behind a desk with his chair raised high enough to meet anyone else at eye level, his slightly overlarge head atop a short neck, his gray eyes oddly intense in a face prematurely aged with pain lines around his mouth and laugh lines around his eyes. he gives her a sharp grin as she enters, gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk. ]

You must be J. Please, have a seat.

[It takes about 30 minutes before J knocks on the door and enters to the room. Not because it she had hard time finding the place but because she wanted to be sure she looked nice. After all, one must be pretty for a job interview-- or whatever this meeting was going to be.

..But the same can't really be said about Miles. He certainly looks like nothing J had expected. What a tiny man, is the first thought to run across J's mind. It was pretty rare for her to meet men who are actually shorter than her.

But still, she hides the surprise from him and smiles brightly at him as she sits down on the chair. She takes off her jacket, revealing a
black dress. Because seriously, fuck the uniforms. She also crosses her legs, making sure to show just enough skin to him.]

And Miles. Pleasure to meet you, darling.

[ miles watches her curiously, gaze sharp, and what he sees is a lot of posturing -- compensatory, or does she just want something? well, of course she wants something, she came here. there's something unusual about her he can't quite pin down -- his gaze shifts in a quick once-over, but when she's still, it's harder to tell. ]

Ah, the pleasure is all mine. [ still smiling, he gestures toward the chairs in front of his desk and drums his fingers on his desk. ] Please, have a seat. What can I help you with?

[Despite all the posing J still managed to look very natural with the way how she carries herself. She pushes the escaping strands of hair behind her ear and sits down on the seat in front of him.

She leans back, taking her cigarette case out of her jacket's pocket.]

Well, Mr. Miles, I'll go straight to the point. I've been to this ship's bar for few times now and to be honest, it couldn't hurt to get some life to that place. So, I was thinking that maybe I could start singing there now and then.

I wouldn't say it's lacking. I think Jacky's doing a decent job with entertainment, considering she's also a bartender and a crow's nest tech. I don't know if you've met her, but she's quite talented.

[ that wasn't a no by any means. miles sits back a little, steepling his fingers as he looks over her intently. his eyebrows raise at the sight of the cigarette case. ]

No smoking in here, thank you. So you're a performer back home?

[The no-smoking rule actually surprises her. Just what was with these people on this ship and hating cigarettes? Oh well, she plays nice and puts the case back to her pocket.]

Ah, yes Jacky. We've met and she's a quite character ['an ugly tramp with no talent' would be more close to what she really thinks of her. But Miles doesn't need to know about that.]

Mmmn. You could say that, yes. I am quite famous back at home, a lot of people with money and power came to listen me sing. [She leans over the desk, resting her chin on her hands. When she speaks again her voice is overly sweet.]

Ahh, but then again. I'm not only known for my lovely voice, you know. I'm a woman with many talents.

[ it isn't so much that they hate cigarettes as they all like having oxygen to breathe, j

miles listens with a neutral, almost bland expression on his face, although his gray eyes are still sharp. there really is something about her that miles can't quite put his finger on. it doesn't seem to be a brag so much as a paraphrased resume. ]

I didn't know such a celebrity graced our ranks here on the Moira. You must be quite the cosmopolitan, J.

[ she acts very confidently, miles notes, and watches as she leans forward, the way she arranges herself. all she gets out of that neutral look is a slight raise of eyebrows that says i'm listening. ]

Oh?

[The smug grin on her lips just grows wider as it becomes clear that she has now caught his interest.

Ah, finally. While she's certainly dealt with even more difficult 'audience' than Miles, his lack of reaction was about to get on her nerves.]

Uhhuh. I know a thing or two about making good business, you see. [Her voice is quiet, almost like a whisper. She stands up and begins to walk slowly around the table to Miles' side, hand sliding along the surface of the desk. Once she's on his side and close enough, J sits down on the desk right in front of him.]

I give something nice to you and then you'll give something to me. Sound fair enough, Mr. Miles?

[ ah, so that's the angle she's playing. a little flicker of resentment rises in miles' chest at the likely notion that she thinks he must be somehow more susceptible to this tactic than most just because of how he looks. that's right, pity the cripple. he wonders if she's aware of how totally unnecessary this is, but miles isn't about to stop her in the middle of her pitch. he smiles slightly, his gaze sharpening. ]

I'm afraid I don't agree to any trades without knowing all the details.

[The sad part here is that J really thinks that this is absolutely necessary. After all, nothing in life is free, you need to bargain for things you want with all you got. And she really wants to do this job again, and seeing that she was still all new on Moira the only product she has is her body. And it's a damn good one. Besides, even though she trusts in her own talent, she knows that there's really no reason for Miles to let her do it. Not when they have Jacky around.]

You'll let me perform at the bar. And as for me? Well, I'm sure we can come up with something that you'd like. Right here.

[ it's a little sad, watching her like this, but miles is determined to simply let her finish and see what happens. what was that tactic gregor is so fond of again? ah, yes. give them just enough rope to hang themselves with. that's a fun one. miles smiles at her patiently, folding his hands on the desk, although he makes no effort to hide the appraising look he gives her -- an examination of pure curiosity as he tries to put his finger on it. she reminds him of bel somehow. ]

Oh? [ a slight raise of the eyebrows. ] What did you have in mind?

[This is taking way too long. There's no way that Miles isn't aware what she's offering here, he's a man after all. There's a voice in the back of her head telling that he's making fun out of her here, something that she didn't quite appreciate. Still, she keeps smiling at him as she moves on the table and leans in closer, bringing their faces closer.

Seriously he's so tiny. 'Attractive' isn't the word she'd use to describe Miles, but he's hardly the ugliest man she's been around. And at least his cologne doesn't stink like piss.]

Let me demonstrate. [She grabs his chin between her finger, turns his head up a little and presses their lips together.]

[ alright, he was going to let her play out her pitch, but he hadn't expected her to go this far. his fault for underestimating her, he supposes, but she's the one who's going to sting for it. he doesn't really regret it, though, given the way she looked at him when she walked in the room. you thought you had me pegged for an easy target, didn't you? ha. who's easy now?

miles waits a polite moment before he pulls back to break the kiss, his neutral expression now gone flat and cool, gray eyes flashing. he puts a hand on her shoulder and gives her a gentle but unhesitating push back. ]

A fine demonstration, but I'm afraid you have me all wrong, J. [ he leans forward then, but not for a kiss, a blazing intensity returning to his face as he folds his hands on the desk in front of him. ] That isn't going to work on me. If you think I'm a stranger to pity or manipulation, you are deeply mistaken. And [ he adds, a little ruthlessly ] I don't really go in for blondes.

[ he is paying attention to her, gaze shifting from her lips to her throat to her hands, and it clicks. he could be reading it all wrong, but he's spent enough time on beta colony and around bel to spot someone who doesn't quite fall into the next sex-and-gender binary most of the world seems hellbent on. not a hermaphrodite, perhaps -- but there were plenty of transwomen and transmen back on beta colony, in varying states of transition. he feels just a little bad for dangling her so, but not enough to apologize. he can't stand being looked down on like that. ]

[Ah, there it is: Rejection. It's never nice to be rejected by someone, but this just feels mean. It honestly wouldn't bother her so much, if he obviously wasn't having a laugh on her expense here. Ah well, too bad for him that J didn't feel the least bit embarrassed by her actions here.

The smile is gone as she straightens her back, still sitting on the desk and looking down at Miles with sour eyes. The comment about blondes made her scoff out loud and roll her eyes. Brunettes, then? She never had quite understood anyone who'd pick Jane Russell over Marilyn.]

That's rather harsh assumption, Mr. Miles. Like I said, it's just business. [She does notice his eyes on her, observing her. Another thing she's not fan of. She's not quite sure whether he's now aware of her 'secret', not that it really matters, but she can too sense some pity from him.]

And honestly? If I were you I wouldn't be so picky. Or is that everything isn't working down there and you're just try to hide it, hmm?

[Because hey, that might actually be true? She remembers hearing from somewhere that cripples tend to have problems with erections.]

[ miles goes absolutely still, and that flat look on his face goes entirely cold, closed off. there's nothing he could say to that that would convince her otherwise, that wouldn't come off as defensive or petty or ashamed. he's been here before, he knows that. he ought to just drop it and leave it be. ought to.

when he finally does speak, moments later, his voice is low and quiet and just as cold as his face, betraying none of the hurt. he's too angry to raise his voice. ]

You'd be astonished to discover that there are people out there who don't judge based purely on the shape of your body. And I wouldn't lower myself to sleep with a woman who only targeted me because she thought I'd beg for any scraps I could get.

[ he remembers that night on beta colony when he was fifteen, the girl who had taken him aside to a room at that party, who had seen his body as a curiosity and nothing more, who had abruptly left him there, shirt pushed up and trousers tugged down over his hips when she saw that his genitals were about the only normal-looking thing about him. he remembers how he'd felt that night and the nights after, the crushing panic and the weight of his own self-loathing sufficating, the grip on the knife in his hand before bothari wrested it away from him, before he could do anything truly stupid. ten years ago now, and it still leaves a bitter taste like bile in the back of his throat.

miles' gray eyes are still like ice chips, but he smiles acidly. ]

So I guess you'll never know, will you?

[Impotent or not, it seems that she still managed to hit the sore spot with her comment. Of course, there was no denying the fact that J had though that seducing Miles would be peace of cake mostly because the way he looked. But honestly, she didn't care about his looks at all and she would've done it to anyone.

First, she doesn't react to his bar in any way. Really, she's been called much worse in her life that a small snarl like that doesn't phase her a bit. But oh, he really wants to make her be the only villain in the room, like he's not being one himself.

Fine, then. Let's have it that way.]

Or are you sure it's not the opposite? [She leans in closer again and for a moment it looks like she's going to kiss him again.]

That they aren't only interested because of that weird looking body? I've heard that some people have really weird kinks, hmm?

[Which is actually something she's rather familiar with. She's more than sure that those men who came to see her in New York didn't do it purely out of adoration as they claimed, but more out of curiosity or mockery.]

Edited 2016-01-24 21:00 (UTC)

[ that layer of ice shatters at those words, and miles looks stricken -- she might as well have just struck him across the face, or maybe kicked him in the stomach, because he looks suddenly sick, anger and hurt flashing over his face before he can stop them. miles' breath catches in his throat and he feels panic cloud his chest. the woman leaning across the desk at him isn't like the girl who'd spurned him all those years ago, she doesn't look like her at all -- but J isn't all that much older than that girl had been, and miles sees her face in J's, calm and cruel and ruthless.

whatever layers of collected confidence, bordering on arrogance, had been there are stripped away now, leaving miles bare and exposed. miles drops his hands to his lap to curl them into fists, refusing to let her see that they're shaking. ]

Get out. [ the words come out half-whispered and hoarse, miles trying to swallow around them, but they almost get stuck in his throat. the panic from the unbidden flashback is making him dizzy, the faint din of that ten-years-past party somehow still reaching his ears, however distantly. he doesn't just look exposed, he looks upset, but god dammit, he's a grown man and he won't cry in front of this woman. ] Get out, you --

[Seeing Miles' reaction really shocks her. No, she's gone too far, this isn't what she wanted. Not what she meant to do.

She's never been known for being kind exactly but really, that's what you learn from living in a world where nearly everyone is against you. But still, no matter how mean and nasty she got towards others she had never in her life gained pleasure from it. And same was here. Just what the hell she's doing bere?!. This isn't her. It hasn't even been two weeks since the last time she had been in same situation as Miles here.

A pimple that broke out on Mr. America's face, that's what they called her. And now, for the first time ever, she really feels like it.]

M-- [She opens her mouth to say something, expression on her face softening-- but not from pity, but rather from regret. She really should say something but what? There's nothing she could say or do to make this better. To fix what she's broken. So, instead she just takes a deep breath and slowly gets off from the desk.]

I'm sorry. [Her voice is just as quiet as his had been at the first. She walks to the other side of the desk, picks up her jacket from the chair and makes her way towards the door.]

Goodbye, Mr. Miles. [She says before shutting the door behind her.]

[ the apology is too little, too late. way too late. miles doesn't look any less hurt or angry after that apology, doesn't move from where he's pressed back against his chair as if in an attempt to escape until she's finally hurried out of the room. even then, he sits at his desk trying to control his breathing before he finally gets up and staggers over to the door to lock it -- the lock wouldn't respond to anyone's fingerprint but his own or one of the captains'. he leans against the door for a long time, breathing hard, but even when the panic subsides, nothing else does. feeling sick, miles staggers back toward his desk but veers instead for the couch, slumping onto it, and buries his face in his hands. ]

[ THISAVROU: INBOX ] MID messages & IC mail

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