NationStates Jolt Archive

Ten kilometers south of the city of Keltas on the planet Shinra is a fence, ten feet high and lined with razor wire. Behind the fence, some strategically-placed concrete barriers, and a series of checkpoints is Potemkin Sailors' Memorial Military Base; a training camp and headquarters for New Dornalian armed forces in the sector. It is the only foreign military installation in Xanthalian territory, a symbol of the growing friendship between the Socialist Republic and the Workers State.

Keltas is a coastal city, home to more than one hundred thousand people, situated in the middle of a narrow strip of land about a hundred miles wide jutting out of the southern coast of a landmass roughly the size of Australia. The base sits on the southern point of the continent, providing it with open ocean on three sides over which trainees there can fly missions and spacecraft can approach and depart the facility at minimal annoyance and risk to the residents of Keltas.

Although Potemkin Sailors' Memorial Military Base is fully equipped with dining and recreational facilities, it has become common in the few months since it opened for base personnel to take leave of their stronghold and visit the city itself. Aside from a few minor incidents duely resolved by Xanthalian police and New Dornalian commanders, this has proven to be a harmless and, for some owners of popular hangouts, lucrative arrangement.

Indeed, this was the case. For soldiers of the Red Army and the People's navy Marine Corps on weekend furlough, and officers who could come and go as they pleased on their off hours, the sights and sounds of nearby Keltas were a welcome diversion from scenery, which while beautiful grew monotonous. They called this area the "S*itpot." It was a joking pun on the name "Potemkin," and the fact that they were "in the s8it end of Xanthal;" that is, in a relatively rural planet with few urban centers.

Buses ran to and from the S*itpot, heading to the city and stopping within its limits to dump off their cargo of soldiers and officers eager to spend their paychecks on the local color. Shops, bars, everything else.

One group of these was a motley band of soldiers on leave for the weekend. Leonid Nozick, Marisol Jonas-chibi, Matthias Kreuzwald, and Hong Tsulian, in the ranks of Tech Sgt, Corporal, Private First Class, Private Second Class, and Private Third Class respectively. They were in the bus, which was piping sounds from the Military radio station, broadcasting the Top 40 songs and snippets of propaganda from Amerikanski Pravda detailing the relief of Allanea.

Jonas-chibi poked Nozick repeatedly, until Nozick turned around and said, "What's up, baby?"

Mari replied with that smile gentegatas--catgirls, to those unfamiliar with Dornalian parlance--were legendary for, and said, "Oh nothing."

Leo said playfully back to his girlfriend, drawing her closer with his arm: "Well, I'm sure that poking wasn't for nothin.' You bored?"

She merely nodded. Leo sighed inside, but hey--this was the norm in their relationship. At the oddest times, she would get bored....

...and the others could only watch. Matthias kept to himself, reading a book by Tolstoy. Elves did that. Hong also was keeping to himself. Only, he was doodling in his sketchbook and listening to his music player, the newest model from People's Digital. The song was the Beastie Boys' "Root Down," and the sketch was of a tank.....

As they drove closer to town, the driver said, "Attention all personnel. Keltas approaching. Keltas approaching. Prepare to exit. Remember to obey all local laws. That is all."

Keltas isn't a particularly large city, but it might as well be a metropolis sitting as it does among kilometer after kilometer of farmland and untouched countryside. It's the largest urban center on the continent, and in the top ten on the planet. Like virtually everything on Shinra, Keltas is new. The whole city went up at once, part of the Xanthalian government's development effort. Four years ago this whole area was a giant field. The appearance of a city like this in so short a time is a testament to the government that planned it, the engineers that designed it, and the laborers who built it.

This large-scale development has resulted in a city that is archetecturally dry; one building looks more or less like another, inside and out. The unique touches of tenants are akin to dressing up identical twins; you can distinguish them, but underneath the disguise they're pretty much the same. Night hides the city's blandness amidst streetlights and colorful illuminated signs, but in the daytime these diversions are turned off or faded by the ambient light.

The bus drives through the residential neighborhoods that surround the city center before letting its passengers off just outside the downtown area. Being the supply hub of the entire continent, Keltas has a large retail sector, but comparatively few recreational establishments. Of these, the Casablanca is known more for its prostitutes than its food; but the alcohol is cheap and the owner tolerant, so it has become a favorite hangout for New Dornalian soldiers looking to kick back or blow off some steam.

Despite being as new as the rest of the city, the Casablanca bar and grill (there's far more emphasis on the bar than the grill, but they do have food) has a dilapidated feel to it. The walls are shabbily painted, the smell of waste and vomit lingers in the bathrooms, and rumor has it that the place has been censured by the Ministry of Health for poor cleanliness. Like most such places though, the patrons of the Casablanca aren't there for a high-class experience and don't mind such shortfalls.

The Casablanca is on the ground floor; there are some offices above, but what they're used for is anyone's guess. The bar is long, seating up to thirty. There are some shabby wooden tables and chairs set up on the remaining floorspace, making room for another twenty customers at any one time. The whole place is dimly lit, but this is just to add to the atmosphere, half the ceiling lights are switched off. Xanthalian law bans smoking, so the lack of cigarettes is the only thing missing from the otherwise authentic cheap urban dive look.

As the soldiers enter, they're greeted with the usual round of acknowledging glances and muttered "yo"s, "hey"s, and "hi"s.

The bartender, a familiar face to anyone who frequents the Casablanca during weekend daytime hours, is a human man, late fifties, of mixed asian and caucasian descent. His name is Richard, but he goes by Bob. The top of his head is bald, but he sports a long beard that has long since greyed with age. Bob is an upfront, loose-tongued, jolly fellow. He comes from Renku, but he talks more like a Freelander. Recognizing the group, he greets them with a friendly jibe. "Well well, if it isn't the Green Hat Brigade! What can I get you folks?"

Nozick had a good rapport with Bob, the bartender. He liked his easygoing style, which seemed to gel with his personality oddly enough. He and the group sat down at the bar, whereupon Nozick, with a cheery, friendly air to reply to Bob's, said, "You know, the usual. Scotch neat for me and the missus," holding Jonas-chibi close, "a Cuba Libre for ol' Matty, and..."

He couldn't help but snicker at this next part. Every time he ordered up, that seemed to happen; given the nature of the drink. His dad always regarded daquiris as "girly" drinks. But, he knew Hong wouldn't drink anything else; he was a snob when it came to booze and would whine until he got something that pleased his palates. So, he then continued, "...a daquiri for Hong here."

Hong shook his head and said, "Every time, man. What the hell's wrong with a little class with my booze? You think every drink that requires three or more ingredients is girly."

Nozick turned to Hong and said, "Oh come on, lighten up. Get out of your comfort zone once in a while. It might just save your life one day."

Hong rolled his eyes and simply said, "Yeah, sure. Whateav."

Matthias merely winced; Jonas-chibi said nothing. These people...Matthias didn't know why he followed them on these jaunts. But his mother wanted him to make some nice new friends. So here he was. So much for "nice" friends. These were friends that were loud and at times wild. Still, it was either that, or be insulted for his ears. These guys didn't mind his Elven nature.

Hong, as he waited at the table, was somewhat struck by the odd sight of Matthias reading at the bar. He still had Tolstoy in his hand. Hong simply thought to himself, "Odd..."

He then poked Matthias and said, "Hey, Matt. We're in a bar now, not a library."

Matthias then said, curtly, "What I do is my business. I will drink, but I will read."

Hong then said, "Jeez, and I thought I was strait laced."

Bob prepares and passes out the drinks one at a time, in the order they were requested. "I had to call the cops in here earlier, break up a couple knuckleheads who couldn't agree where the line was," he nods towards the dartboard, making it clear what he's talking about. "If everyone just read a book, my job'd be less stressful. But where's the fun in that, right?" He lets his eyes linger on Mari for an extra moment as he browses over the Dornalians. She's cute, and he's getting to be an old man now; who could begrudge him taking in what little scenery there is in a place like this?

His attention settles on Nozick. The young man's been coming in since before the base was even finished. Must've been among the first stationed here. "Been quiet to the south this cycle; they training the rookies to scrub toilets or what?"

Nozick wryly said, "Hell, I've got rookies that wish they could scrub toilets with toothbrushes. The new guys are learning the in and outs of fixing Jose Marti tanks, the Principles of The True Dictatorship of the Proletariat and all the while, taking turns to stand on guard duty. And its nearing test time for them. I've got guys under my command that are scared shitless."

He then clinked his glass with Mari, and then they drank. Nozick only continued with, "I remember my days as a rookie. I was worried sick too. Then, I passed my qualifications for fixing the Jose Marti, and then I got to relax. So I feel for these new guys. Though some of them, they work too damn hard....one kid spends all his free time in study. Hell, I say work when its time to, have fun when its time to."

Hong sipped on his daiquiri, and passed a tip Bob's way, saying, "Thanks, man." He liked the daiquiris here; they weren't too bad and they were better than the ones people made on base. As for Matthias, he simply sipped on the Cuba Libre. He didn't talk, he only seemed to wistfully contemplate his surroundings, scanning the array of people, wondering about their maxims, their thoughts, etc.

"Behind every good military is a healthy dose of propaganda, eh?" Richard nods his thanks to Hong as he pockets the tip. "Yeah, Melissa was like that, too;" he says. Nozick knows the name from previous conversations as Bob's daughter. "Never met a girl so dedicated to the forces. Barely even saw her in the last couple years." It's a sad story, but the bartender has already shed his tears and moved on. He only brings her up in context, with his usual smile and a hint of fatherly disapproval.

Looking over at Matthias, Bob says, "Ancient Earth literature. Russian, right? Classy. Learning anything?"

"Behind every good military is a healthy dose of propaganda, eh?" Richard nods his thanks to Hong as he pockets the tip. "Yeah, Melissa was like that, too;" he says. Nozick knows the name from previous conversations as Bob's daughter. "Never met a girl so dedicated to the forces. Barely even saw her in the last couple years." It's a sad story, but the bartender has already shed his tears and moved on. He only brings her up in context, with his usual smile and a hint of fatherly disapproval.

Looking over at Matthias, Bob says, "Ancient Earth literature. Russian, right? Classy. Learning anything?"

Matthias nodded and said, "It's Tolstoy, Anna Karenina. In Elven German. Quite a beautiful translation." And just as quickly as he spoke, he quickly went back to his book. Nozick just shrugged and said, "Some people....Matty here's pretty good otherwise, but he's never without a book."

Matthias said nothing, only saying, "My name is not Matty. It is Matthias Christian Kreuzberg. Remember that."

Mari rolled her eyes and said, with a raspberry, "Humph. Whatever you say, our liege."

Nozick then turned to Bob, and said, "But yeah....I suppose so. Every military's gotta have propaganda in it. Our army takes it in jest, but we know that with this here war on, we have an actual reason to stay in our jobs."

"A strong military is always important. There is not always time to build one from scratch when the need arises, so a country must always be ready to defend itself. That is why people like you, who get those kids ready to protect their country, are so important."

Hey, a rich, serious, yet playful female voice resonates in Matthias' mind. "Do you always just blow people off like that?" It's telepathy, and judging by the clarity, whoever's projecting the message is either very powerful or very close. The elf two seats down is a likely suspect, but if it is her, she's not readily showing it, she attends to her drink, paying no visible attention to the New Dornalians whatsoever.

"A strong military is always important. There is not always time to build one from scratch when the need arises, so a country must always be ready to defend itself. That is why people like you, who get those kids ready to protect their country, are so important."

Hey, a rich, serious, yet playful female voice resonates in Matthias' mind. "Do you always just blow people off like that?" It's telepathy, and judging by the clarity, whoever's projecting the message is either very powerful or very close. The elf two seats down is a likely suspect, but if it is her, she's not readily showing it, she attends to her drink, paying no visible attention to the New Dornalians whatsoever.

Matthias looked up, and looked around the bar. A Geisterlautsprecher, a psychic? Here? Psychics among his people were treated as special, with dread fear and reverence. He knew down in Der Zuidland that they treated psychics differently than his people did, but then again, those Boers did things different. They were considerably more conservative than the German communities where he came from.

He got a small sense of chill, and his eyes fell upon the elf next to him. Elves were not uncommon in this part of the universe. But Matthias never felt a sense of kinship with these volk; they were somewhat different biologically and culturally than the New Dornalian elves. Still, she was beautiful, and somewhat aloof like he was. He wasn't a psychic, so he walked up to Mari and said, "Mari, I need to talk to you."

Mari said, "Hold on, man," to Nozick and then she turned to him, walking to a secluded corner while taking him aside. Her eyes lit up, and her ears peaked, and Mari said, "About time you spoke Matt. What's up?"

Matthias looked around, and whispered to Mari, "I heard a voice in my head. Like a psychic voice. A teasing, feminine psychic voice."

Mari gave a sarcastic chuckle, and said, "You afraid of women? They always did say the men of your kind were maricons, but I would never believe i-"

Matthias interjected harshly with, "Listen! I am not gay! All I am asking is, did you hear it too? Did you sense something?"

Taken aback, Mari shot back with, "Don't you raise your voice at me, Spock! My sixth sense picked up something, but I'll not tell you if this is the case."

Matthias then said, smiling, "You just did."

Mari sighed and whispered back, clearly frustrated by the experience, "Touché. I hate it when I trip over my own words....I sensed something indeed. My advice, ninho? That nonha next to ya probably did it; if not it was somebody damn close to her. Sit back down, and think back something awesome, and try throwing in her direction. I'll help you out as best I can, not much I can do you know besides the Sense."

Matthias nodded, and they sat back down at the bar. He tried out the method Mari suggested, thinking "at" the elf girl next to him, "Nope. Only when absolutely necessary."

"I talk to you and you go off to consult with Catwoman, the voice comes back teasingly. Checking to be sure you aren't crazy?

"...so I said, 'Look, if you wanna suck off your boyfriend, more power to you, but get a room.'" Bob shakes his head. "I don't know if they do things that way on Freeland or not, but it scares off the tourists; those it attracts, I'm not sure I want hanging around, if you catch my drift." He turns away to pour another glass of scotch for Nozick.

"I talk to you and you go off to consult with Catwoman, the voice comes back teasingly. Checking to be sure you aren't crazy?

"...so I said, 'Look, if you wanna suck off your boyfriend, more power to you, but get a room.'" Bob shakes his head. "I don't know if they do things that way on Freeland or not, but it scares off the tourists; those it attracts, I'm not sure I want hanging around, if you catch my drift." He turns away to pour another glass of scotch for Nozick.

"That voice again! Gott in himmel! Aza und Geisterlautsprehcher (OOC: God in Heaven! Such a psychic), indeed!" Matthias couldn't help but be amazed at this woman's tenacity. He then thought to himself, "Get it together. This is a fellow Alvenvolker...."

He regained his composure, and did the thought trick again, this time thinking to the woman in a jocular tone, "Pardon the furious train of thought; that's part of it. After all, I'm not used to voices appearing in my head, y'know. But I am open for communication; my friends insist on me leaving my comfort zone and I figure there's a first time for everything."

Nozick, meanwhile, took the glass nonchalantly and drank it down. Mari smiled and said, "Share some with me, dear...." laughing in a playful manner. Nozick then joked and said, "Hey, no problem babe...left a little in there for ya. What the Scots call the Angel's Share."

He handed the glass to her, and she drank the rest. Licking her chops with glee, she then said, "That's a damn good whisky."

"You're new to telepathy, are you? Forgive me. Most of the elves I have known are telepaths." The woman rotates her stool, giving him a good look at her for the first time. She has the appearance of a young woman, but with the elven gift of long life her true age is impossible to ascertain from her looks alone. Her skin is an unblemished light shade of tan, her hair uncombed, long, and deep black. As she brushes her bangs out of her eyes she reveals her ear, which has the signature point of an elf, but its dullness suggests interbreeding with humans. Her eyes are an intense shade of green.

"I am Anaranë Amandil," she says, this time out loud. "I would like very much to go on a date with you."

"You're new to telepathy, are you? Forgive me. Most of the elves I have known are telepaths." The woman rotates her stool, giving him a good look at her for the first time. She has the appearance of a young woman, but with the elven gift of long life her true age is impossible to ascertain from her looks alone. Her skin is an unblemished light shade of tan, her hair uncombed, long, and deep black. As she brushes her bangs out of her eyes she reveals her ear, which has the signature point of an elf, but its dullness suggests interbreeding with humans. Her eyes are an intense shade of green.

"I am Anaranë Amandil," she says, this time out loud. "I would like very much to go on a date with you."

OOC: German in the text was machine-translated, and accuracy may be off. Anyway, this is the future.

IC:

Matthias was a sheltered child; the elves he knew in the Rhineland communities were quiet, preferred to handle things behind the scenes and when it came to dating, let women handle things. So not surprisingly, he was taken aback by this woman's offer. He got nervous, and began giggling nervously. If this was anime, a visible sweat drop could be seen. Either way, he was nervous, excited at the prospect of actually going on a date and nervous about what would happen.

He turned to Hong and looked for advice. Hong said nothing, giving Matthias a look that simply said, "What are you waiting for?" His words, however, were quite sparse by comparison. He sipped his daiquiri, and simply said, "Your choice man." He didn't wish to get involved in matters with women, he wasn't an expert and didn't wish to pretend to be one.

The decision came quickly. After several seconds of agonizing, he said, quickly and still somewhat shakily the usual German Elvish reply to such a request, "Well....gee....Fräulein Amandil, I, Matthias Christian Kreuzberg, sohn von Elias Macquarie Kreuzberg un Gudrun Christiaan, nehmen deinen Antrag für ein Datum an und bitten bescheiden um das folgende vorhandene Mal!"

Matthias then said, realizing Anaranë probably didn't know German, gathered himself together and said simply, "My apologies. In reply to your question, the answer is yes and I also ask when is the next available time."

His only thought afterwards was: "Make mental note--stay calm..."

Anaranë titters at the foreigner's awkwardness, moving in seductively to whisper in his ear. "German? You'll have to tell me more about that. Tomorrow at three hundred degrees?"

Bob watches these goings on with amusement, leaning in towards Nozick so he can speak in a lower voice. "Looks like Amandil's got her fangs in your friend. Better tell him to watch out; that's a broken heart waiting to happen."

Anaranë titters at the foreigner's awkwardness, moving in seductively to whisper in his ear. "German? You'll have to tell me more about that. Tomorrow at three hundred degrees?"

Bob watches these goings on with amusement, leaning in towards Nozick so he can speak in a lower voice. "Looks like Amandil's got her fangs in your friend. Better tell him to watch out; that's a broken heart waiting to happen."

Nozick looked at the scene and shrugged. He could only speak what he thought; that was simply a whisper back to Bob, "Well, Matty never had that much confidence or backbone around women. Must be an elf thing. If she's bad news, I'd better keep an eye out."

Mari poked him and said, "Hey...that's what your father said about me, remember? And look at me now. You're not that bad off are ya?"

Nozick quipped back, "Sure. I guess despite the pokings and your easily bored nature, yer okay."

Mari gave him a gentle elbow back and said playfully, "Jerk."
-----------------------------------
Matthias, meanwhile, sat up ramrod straight, and said, "Why, sure, ma'am. I'd love to." He couldn't help but be mesmerized by Amandil's beauty; her face, hair, chest, her eyes....generally, as much of the details on her person as possible were all so overwhelmingly pleasant to him. The same went for her powers.

It seemed she wasn't new to this, but as far as Matthias was concerned, she was the most beautiful woman he had seen in a while and he'd be a sucker not to turn this opportunity down. Besides, maybe it would win him some respect on base, and get people to stop questioning his sexuality.

He then continued, saying, "Well, where would you want to meet?"

"Edwardo's café," she replies as she stands up. "See you there." She blows Matthias a kiss, and with a final wink, Anaranë Amandil disappears out the door.

Bob watches, shaking his head as he addresses the dumbstruck elf. "That woman... don't get too attached, boy. She's trouble."

"Hey!" Someone just coming in shouts to anyone who will listen. It's a young human man. He's black, a rarity in Xanthal. His clothing suggests he's a businessman, maybe just getting off work. Even though it's only midday, the Dornalians have gotten used to the fact that a lot of places (not to mention people) around here keep strange hours. "Anyone want to go a round or two at the dartboard?"

Bob looks over disapprovingly. "Dammit Dan, is it possible for you to keep your voice down?"

"Got a problem?" the newcomer asks.

Bob chuckles. "Yeah right, like I'm gonna fight you." He looks over the Dornalians. "Anyone fancy they can kick Dan's ass at darts for me? Free drink for whoever takes him down a peg."

"Edwardo's café," she replies as she stands up. "See you there." She blows Matthias a kiss, and with a final wink, Anaranë Amandil disappears out the door.

Bob watches, shaking his head as he addresses the dumbstruck elf. "That woman... don't get too attached, boy. She's trouble."

"Hey!" Someone just coming in shouts to anyone who will listen. It's a young human man. He's black, a rarity in Xanthal. His clothing suggests he's a businessman, maybe just getting off work. Even though it's only midday, the Dornalians have gotten used to the fact that a lot of places (not to mention people) around here keep strange hours. "Anyone want to go a round or two at the dartboard?"

Bob looks over disapprovingly. "Dammit Dan, is it possible for you to keep your voice down?"

"Got a problem?" the newcomer asks.

Bob chuckles. "Yeah right, like I'm gonna fight you." He looks over the Dornalians. "Anyone fancy they can kick Dan's ass at darts for me? Free drink for whoever takes him down a peg."

Nozick got up, so suddenly Mari almost fell to the floor. With a sense of bravado probably aided by the whisky, he called Dan out, saying, "You're on, man! Ima gonna show you up!"

Mari then got up and poked Nozick, saying, "Hey, hey!"

Nozick turned and said to Mari, "Look, Mari. I've got this under control."

Mari shot back, "Oh no you don't. We gentegatas have a way with things involving fine motor skills. Besides, you look a little tipsy."

Nozick glared at her, and said, "I only had two shots. Jesus. Besides, its not that bad, Bob's gonna make it worth my while and somebody needs to represent the Red Army."

With a sigh and a thought of, "Here he goes again, playing the macho man," she then said, "Fine, if you must. But watch your ass. This guy looks a little testy." She didn't want a fight with Nozick, not here in public. He had a way of being stubborn at times, and when those times happened, she knew it just wasn't worth it to try negotiating--especially with the look he just gave her.

With that in mind, Nozick sauntered up to Dan, looked him square in the eyes, and said, "Let's go, little man." If it was one thing he loved, it was a good competition, and he was eager to show up the wannabe toughguys that just got out of work, especially around these parts, who the real men were.
------------

Matthias, meanwhile, didn't hear Bob's lecture. He was too busy fixated on her smile, that beatiful body with those graceful curves....screw Helen of Troy, she looked like Tracey Ullman when it came to Anaranë Amandil. Hong then shook him a little and said, "Matt? MATT!"

The elf then shook his head, turned and said curtly, "Can't a man fantasize in peace? Verdamnt it."

Hong then said, "Didja hear Bob? This lady's as loose as a pile of cluttered papers, and she's playing you for a sucker."

Matthias, still emotional after his experience, violently reacted to Hong's statement, saying, "You just don't want me to be a man, do you! I have a chance to be respected, a chance to know what love truly is. I read about it, I watch it on the HoloNet, I see it with Mari and her boyfriend, why can't I have it? And besides, who are you to talk, Mr. I-Have-An-Arranged-Marriage!?"

Hong then grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and said this in a hushed tone, "Keep it down, Matt. This isn't TV, or Romeo and Juliet. It's real friggin' life! I ain't a love doctor, but I gotta watch out for my friends. And when somebody says a woman is loose....I usually am inclined to believe them until I hear otherwise."

At that, Matthias pushed him away, wrote the date in a little notebook he kept, and then put it in his pocket. He then said to Bob, "Bartender? I'd like a Crown and Cola." Hong could tell he was clearly disbelieving. Didn't the German Elvish communities have loose women? Then again, they did things a little differently over there; they weren't like their South African or Celtic or American cousins, which were varying degrees of either looser or stricter in those matters--they tended to be formalized, yet somewhat liberal, with a paradoxical juxtaposition of ritual and free love that made their neighbors nervous.

Ah well. It would explain his lack of contact with women. Or was it the books?

"Yeah, yeah," the dark-skinned man replies boredly. "Let's do this." He picks out the three darts that are in the best shape and takes them for himself. "You call the game," he says with a challenging, toothy smile, stepping aside to give his opponent the first turn.

"Whatever you say, Chief," Bob assents with a shrug, turning around to make Matthias his drink. He only pays token attention to the competition between Dan and Nozick. This isn't the first time Dan has stormed in looking for a challenger. Bob frequently offers a round to anyone who can beat him, and he hasn't handed out a free drink yet. Dan, the night shift manager of the neighborhood bank, could probably play in the statewide league, if such a thing existed.

"Yeah, yeah," the dark-skinned man replies boredly. "Let's do this." He picks out the three darts that are in the best shape and takes them for himself. "You call the game," he says with a challenging, toothy smile, stepping aside to give his opponent the first turn.

"Whatever you say, Chief," Bob assents with a shrug, turning around to make Matthias his drink. He only pays token attention to the competition between Dan and Nozick. This isn't the first time Dan has stormed in looking for a challenger. Bob frequently offers a round to anyone who can beat him, and he hasn't handed out a free drink yet. Dan, the night shift manager of the neighborhood bank, could probably play in the statewide league, if such a thing existed.

Matthias took his drink and began sipping it. He wanted to get his mind off the business at hand, opinions of others aside. He began sipping it calmly, looking at the amateur competition near him.

Meanwhile, disdaining his opponent, Nozick armed himself with the best of the darts left in play, and then walked up to the jukebox in the room. Shoving in a few coins, he gave it a good jab and queued up the song "T.N.T" by AC/DC, before returning to the starting line. To the tune of the band going "Oi! Oi! OI!," Nozick said "Best two out of three, starting now," throwing a dart at the board with some accuracy.

Daniel puts two darts in the outer bullseye, one in the center. He crosses his arms, a smug expression on his face. "If it's an accuracy match you're after, you got one." He turns to the bar, waving comically. "Bob! A gin and tonic, if you please!"

"Aye," Bob says, immediately setting about the task of filling the order. As he goes about it, he strikes up a conversation with Mari. "So, what do you think? Does your man have a chance? Not many men can beat Dan, and having a couple scotches in him isn't gonna help."

Although it's not an uncommon event here, the match has drawn quite a bit of attention, both from the bar and the tables. Many of the patrons ignore the proceedings entirely, but some take a break from their conversations or thoughts to observe this latest contest between the confident egomaniac champion and his New Dornalian challenger. A few even begin shouting encouragement to one or the other.

Daniel puts two darts in the outer bullseye, one in the center. He crosses his arms, a smug expression on his face. "If it's an accuracy match you're after, you got one." He turns to the bar, waving comically. "Bob! A gin and tonic, if you please!"

"Aye," Bob says, immediately setting about the task of filling the order. As he goes about it, he strikes up a conversation with Mari. "So, what do you think? Does your man have a chance? Not many men can beat Dan, and having a couple scotches in him isn't gonna help."

Although it's not an uncommon event here, the match has drawn quite a bit of attention, both from the bar and the tables. Many of the patrons ignore the proceedings entirely, but some take a break from their conversations or thoughts to observe this latest contest between the confident egomaniac champion and his New Dornalian challenger. A few even begin shouting encouragement to one or the other.

Mari purred, and thought for a moment. She then said with a smile, "He has a chance, si. Whether he can win, is another matter--not to jinx him, of course. It could go either way right now."

Hong rose an eyebrow, and said, "I thought you'd be more supportive?"

Mari smiled and said, "I'm a gentegata. We deal in uncertainties and mess with predictions for a living. Of course I'm supportive, but I gotta stay true to my roots, si?"

Hong then said, "Charming." in the most astounded manner. That was either sarcasm, or the truth....

As she said this, Nozick didn't hear her. He could only hear the rock music and the swoosh of the dart, as he threw three more darts, this time with two in the outer bullseye--but awfully close--and one square in the middle as well. He then said, "Call this round a draw, then."

Dan glares at the board, then at Nozick. He was expecting an easy win, something to make him feel better after a stressful day. This foreigner is going to be a challenge, though. Grinning with thinly-veiled hostility, he makes a short bow, at least going through the motions of sportsmanship. "Not many people can throw like that. I'll admit, I'm impressed."

He saunters over to the bar and grabs his drink, downing it in a single gulp. "Alright!" he exhales the word sharply, turning and levelling a finger at his opponent while simultaneously slamming the glass down on the bar with the other. "Name the game, and get ready to lose!"

Bob takes the empty glass with a sigh. "Ah, youth. So foolish and rash." He takes another long look at Mari's bust while she's distracted by Dan and Nozick's posturing. "Nice to look at, though." By the time he says it, his attention is already back on his work, giving the catperson no opportunity to catch him in the act.

Dan glares at the board, then at Nozick. He was expecting an easy win, something to make him feel better after a stressful day. This foreigner is going to be a challenge, though. Grinning with thinly-veiled hostility, he makes a short bow, at least going through the motions of sportsmanship. "Not many people can throw like that. I'll admit, I'm impressed."

He saunters over to the bar and grabs his drink, downing it in a single gulp. "Alright!" he exhales the word sharply, turning and levelling a finger at his opponent while simultaneously slamming the glass down on the bar with the other. "Name the game, and get ready to lose!"

Bob takes the empty glass with a sigh. "Ah, youth. So foolish and rash." He takes another long look at Mari's bust while she's distracted by Dan and Nozick's posturing. "Nice to look at, though." By the time he says it, his attention is already back on his work, giving the catperson no opportunity to catch him in the act.

Nozick shrugged, smiled, and said, "My momma, liked to say "a pig is a pig," and in this case, it looks like that's gonna be so."

He then proceeded to make eye contact with Dan, and said, thrusting his own finger at the challenger: "Okay. If this is going to be serious, then it's on. First to 200 points, big man. Let's see if you can keep up with that."

Mari then shrugged and said, "Meh. Boys with toys I suppose."

She then got the slight suspicion that Bob "snuck a peek;" her sixth senses working like clockwork, she picked up on whenever men made unwelcome gawks and leers. But to avoid making a scene, she simply let it go, only glaring for a moment (brief enough to avoid exposure) and then proceeding to turn and watch the happenings....

"200? How boring. Round two's gonna be a token. Alright, I'll finish you off quick." Dan throws for the middle ring, hitting two triple twenties in a row, but missing the third shot, which scores only the normal twenty. It's a straightforward strategy, but likely to pay off for someone of his skill.

Nozick gets only a cocky smirk from his opponent as Dan retrieves the darts. "One more shot if I'm any good. You think you can make two tons in one turn?" Dan laughs at his own joke as he steps aside.

"200? How boring. Round two's gonna be a token. Alright, I'll finish you off quick." Dan throws for the outer ring, hitting two triple twenties in a row, but missing the third shot, which scores only the normal twenty. It's a straightforward strategy, but likely to pay off for someone of his skill.

Nozick gets only a cocky smirk from his opponent as Dan retrieves the darts. "One more shot if I'm any good. You think you can make two tons in one turn?" Dan laughs at his own joke as he steps aside.

Nozick yawned. Inside he was nervous, but on the outside he looked bored. He could only shoot back, "Big deal, big man. I can do that easy."

He then picked up his darts, and then drove them home. His throwing arm strengthened by years of playing high school baseball, he threw the darts with all of his might into the board. His eye was just as good, though slightly deficient in the fact that one of his darts slammed into the twenty zone. The other two, however, hit their mark, one landing in the bullseye and the other landing right next it in the same spot.

Hong looked at the scene, and said, "Wow."

Dan is elated. His opponent will need at least two shots to make 200 now; even if he misses his next shot, he'll still be able to tie Nozick. A tie isn't what he wants though, it's a victory. He narrows his eyes and shoots for the triple twenty.

It's a perfect hit, right in the middle of the space. Dan can't help but pump his arm in celebration. "Two hundred," he announces smugly, carelessly tossing his other two darts at the bullseye, just for fun. Neither shot is very good, one just barely hits the outer bull, coming to rest against the metal ring seperating it from the seven space, and the other hits in the thirteen space near the bullseye, but it doesn't matter to Dan; he has won. Scattered adulation and disappointed mutters run through the audience, which promptly returns to its own business as soon as the match is over.

"Woo!" Dan cheers himself, levelling his left index finger at Bob. "Someday you're gonna have to come after me yourself, old man! Put that drink on my tab, for now." Without so much as waiting for a reply, he heads for the door, placing a firm hand on Nozick's shoulder as he passes him by. "Almost got me. Better luck next time, conehead."

The overconfidence of but a few seconds ago seemed to dissapear, replaced by a burning desire to not let this man get away with his victory. The fact Nozick got called "conehead" didn't help either. He grabbed Dan's hand, and twisted his arm behind his back, before delivering a strong headbutt and letting him go.

Mari then got up and said, "What the hell?! You're going to get us in trouble...you know the base authority really cracks down on this sort of thing." Nozick then only responded, "He's lucky I don't do anything worse. It's about time somebody slammed his big yap shut."

The others sighed, knowing only that Nozick lost thanks to a misunderstanding of the rules of darts (which around here, were not played by Dornalian rules.), though they did share a dislike of Dan. Hong turned to Bob and said, "Sorry about that. Lemme bring my friend out of here." He then plopped down money to help pay for cleanup, and then straightened up a few things before attempting to drag Nozick out. Nozick then began resisting some, as the others tried to keep him quiet, and Mari then kneeled and spoke to Dan. Simply put, she challenged him to a dart match of her own, to "defend the honor of our unit in the wake of recent events."

Dan remains kneeled on the ground, doubled over. Speaking through clenched teeth, he hisses a response. "Screw you, lady. Your buddy over there is a psycho. That's my throwing arm he almost broke!"

"Enough!" Bob shouts as he sees the New Dornalians begin struggling amongst each other, seeking to avert a fight. Other patrons are already rising from their chairs, some leaving, some preparing to go head on with the foreigners. Fortunately for public order, Bob commands a great deal of respect amongst his customers, and nobody makes a move on the soldiers.

"Dan, get your sorry ass up off the floor and quit whining. I told you, no physical contact. Go home, cool off." After a moment, the black man complies, standing with leg power alone. He shoots a good long glare at Nozick then Dan stalks out of the bar, holding his strained arm.

"Nozick, you're gonna walk out that door a free man or you're gonna be dragged out as a criminal, your choice. Your welcome here has been worn out. Permanently. And the rest of you," Bob addresses this to the other Dornalians, replacing his livid expression with a smile, "have a nice afternoon."

The New Dornalians exited the bar as fast as they could, leaving money to pay for the drinks and fleeing hastily. They knew NOT to mess with Bob, for they had seen how he treated the intransigent. And frankly, he could get nasty. They all remembered the incident with Sgt. Skippy--and frankly, shuddered at the results.....

Hong yelled at the rest of the pack once they got outside, furiously complaining, "Gee guys. Thanks for getting us kicked out of our favorite watering hole. Emphasis on 'favorite' and 'our' and 'the fact its the only one we know!'"

Nozick walked up to him and gave him a "gangsta poke" in the face, an aggressive poke with the middle and index fingers, which was a traditional New Dornalian challenge and insult, before saying "Would you rather I be laughed at?"

Hong shoved him back, with a cry of, "Motherfucker, that wasn't worth trying to prove your manhood! So you lost, big damn deal! They play different rules here!"

Mari tried to break them up, before Hong said, "Get off, you damn fleabag! You made it worse, and you knew it."

The tension was thick. Nozick especially was a jock-type, used to being strong and being assured his manhood was intact. Well, under the influence of alcohol, he was seeing threats everywhere, and was eager to get them all acquianted with his muscle. The rest of th group, though cognizant, was somewhat buzzed as well.

Only a cry of "Genug!" by Matthias silenced the group, which then moved their way to a park bench to sit down and rest in somber silence.

Mari then said, "Well, where to now? There's not many good bars around here, and we just got kicked out of the friendliest one."

Nozick then said, "There's the Sunset Boulevard Pub. I went there once. The owner isn't as friendly as Bob and the drinks a bit worse. But they'll get you drunk. Also, they don't make a bad Monte Cristo sandwich."

Hong then said, sighing in disgust at the idea of more booze, "Ugh....no thanks. I think I've had enough for now."

He then thought of another idea. It was still daylight, and the stores were still open. And despite their state, they could handle a transaction. So, he asked, "What about a shopping trip? I'm sure you guys need things. Clothes, comma change of, for instance" mocking military lingo.

Nozick then said, somewhat bitterly, "Heh. I'm thinking more about video games. The new fighting game "Fighting Destiny X" is out...and the fucking PX doesn't have it. Fucking fuckers."

Mari interjected, somewhat amazed, "Listen, first of all, I need to relax. I can't think straight and I need to breathe. Do I--no, you--really believe that we can just waltz into a store buzzed? Henry Earl may have done so, I cannot."

The others went, "Seconded."

Nozick then said, "Okay, then we walk around first, to clear our heads. Hell, get some coffee. Then, we go in. Capice?"

Mari mumbled, "Fine, but as long as you don't get us in trouble again."

Nozick got up, exchanging glares with Mari. The others got up as well, embarassed and still reeling from a bad time. They then proceeded to walk carefully, with Matthias saying nothing, only glaring at the rest for ruining his day an forcing him to embarass himself in public. As for the others, they walked along quietly, mood still ugly and depressed and heads still somewhat aching but cognizant.

The city of Keltas is about what you'd expect from a city of 100,000 in the early afternoon; the streets are busy with people returning from their midday meal to work, the soft rumble of the subway can occasionally be felt underfoot, and the mood is generally one of peace and order. The more astute in the group might notice clouds gathering on the horizon, a possible sign of rain. For now though, the brown dwarf sun shines cheerily down on the Dornalians as they take their midday walk.

The downtown area is packed with retail stores, selling everything from food to clothing to electronics to farm equipment. There is a single park that takes up a square city block near the edge of the business district, but it offers little more to see than do the storefronts. Keltas is not a scenic city, nor is it a cultural center. There is very little of interest for a wandering band of soldiers on leave to do except spend money, which is just fine as far as the people running the businesses are concerned.

More worrisome are the suspicious looks Nozick and company are recieving from the KGB officers as they pass by; it's not too hard to see that several of the soldiers are tipsy, and though public intoxication isn't a crime here, police are quick to pick up any drunks that stir up trouble. The soldiers at Potemkin Sailors' Memorial Military Base have learned quickly that Xanthalian goodwill does not extend to lawbreakers, allied soldiers or not.

Mari sensed the looks, and with that innate sense of "spidey-sense/sixth-sense" that gentegata seemed to have, she could feel that they were watching them, nervous and eager to get them for any sort of intransigence. Call it the booze, call it the mood, but she felt honestly threatened. She mumbled to Nozick, "Noze, I think they're watching us."

Nozick whispered back, "No shit. Stay on your guard, don't be stupid."

The soldiers then assumed a formal gait, avoiding eye contact with police and moving about their business quietly, looking to NOT stir up trouble. Hong, meanwhile, took it upon himself to scout out a more permanent place to sit. He wasn't comfy with being glared at by the cops either.

He spotted a small knickknack shop that was out of the way, one that sold what appeared to be video games, PDA's of all types and recorded music. Quickly, they moved over there, filing in quietly and inobtrusively as possible, beginning to browse the aisles.

Consumer electronics is one of Xanthal's largest import sectors, second only, in fact, to consumables (Xanthal's dependance on trade for its food supply has been a source of political debate since before the reunification, but that is another story). Browsing the selection at this modest shop, it is easy to see: the shelves are stocked with foreign music, films, and games, and the electronic devices are likewise branded with foreign logos. The prices are exhorbitant, sometimes nearly double what one would expect to pay at a discount store in a thriving capitalist economy, this being the result of heavy import tariffs aggrivated by the increased cost of shipping goods to this sparsely-populated planet. As always, socialism is not easy on the wallet when one wishes to buy that which the government does not provide.

On the bright side, the goods, though pricey, are of good quality, and the store seems to have a fairly good selection considering its small size. These must not be peak hours, because the Dornalians are the only shoppers in the place. The clerk, a homely blonde human girl that looks to be about twenty, if that, watches the shoppers with a detached gaze, no doubt imagining where she might have been today if she had continued her education. Or thinking about the kick-ass party she went to last night; who can tell, really?

Nozick ran to the video game consoles, looking over them. The New Dornalian consoles were not in short supply, if their prices were slightly pricier than usual. The Okama Gamesphere 2000, the Jensen Funstation, the United Electronics Model X--all of them were there, along with the best. He was happy, but he already had an Okama. But it wasn't quite working so well recently...so Nozick walked to the bored girl at the counter, mainly because he had a question. In this case, it was "Excuse me, ma'am. I need some help with an Okama Gamesphere 2000....it seems my sound hookups aren't working correctly. I mean, it was working fine before, but now it's getting scratchy. Checked the HoloTV, checked the connections--dunno what's up."

"We don't do repairs here," the clerk says flatly, her apathy towards Nozick's predicament clear in tone, face, and posture. She doesn't volunteer any further information.

Nozick sighed and walked off. You couldn't get good help these days, and if the lady at the counter was any indication, customer service could be just as bad here as in Los Angeles. "At least tell me like you're not a robot," he thought, walking to some of the music on sale. The New Dornalian section contained the usual blues, rock and for Mari, norteño-mezcla, a variant of "Mexican polka" that over the years had acquired rock and Asian influences. Strange stuff, but it had an audience. He picked one up, only to find Mari was browsing the section as well. Sharing a laugh, Nozick handed the disc to her.

Indeed, the mood seemed to brighten in the room. Hong was engrossed in the electronics, looking at music player accessories, especially the sound equipment. The elf, Matthias had actually put his book down for once, to browse the Xanthalian music aisle. It was nothing special, but he detested rock and roll and generally liked World, or rather, Galactic Music.

Mari then walked up to the desk, laying her items down and saying, "That'll be all."

The clerk begins scanning the items in, looking at the titles as she does. "Los Samurais Fabulosos?" she says with an incredulous expression. The case has a technicolor background, in front of which stand five Mexicans in traditional attire, complete with ridiculously large sombreros, brandishing katanas. One can hardly blame her for being amused. "One of my friends likes them. Earth sure turns out some weird shit, huh?" Scanning the last of the items and dropping them in a bag, the girl looks up at Mari. "You're from the base, right? You paying in Credits?"

Mari nodded and said, "Si, si. Common credits." She then pulled out a wallet, thumbed through it, and pulled out some Common credits in paper form, just a little above the amount needed to leave without causing some issues. New Dornalians used electronic currency--debit cards were a friend to them--but many still preferred to use cold hard cash, especially those who were from the old guard and a lot of the minorities of the Workers State. She plopped the bills on the counter, smiling and saying, "Here you go."

As for the comment about the wierd shit, she just shrugged it off. After all, norteño-mezcla was an acquired taste for the uninitiated. And Mari, not to mention the whole of her people, were initiated....

The clerk punches some buttons on the register, talking to herself as she does. "Total merchandise... plus currency fee... plus service fee.... Ninty-seven Common Credits," she announces. Unable to find correct change as she sorts through the bills, she just takes 100, sticking it into a slot under the counter. "Maybe you already know this, but you'd pay less if you went to the bank and got a stored value card. They'll give you the full amount in quinaults for your Credits. Most other places charge for the trouble of handling a different currency, and a service fee for dealing with checks, bills, or coins, too. Some won't even take Credits."

The young woman hands the excess cash over, along with the bag containing Mari's purchases. "Anyway, just thought I'd make sure you knew. Have a good one." She bows shallowly without leaving her seat, then rests her chin in her hand, propping it up with her elbow on the surface of the counter.

"Heh. Maybe you trust machines, señora, but my people like to feel the money they give to others. Besides, that hurt my wallet...."

Mari thought this as she left the counter, taking her goods and nodding in acknowledgement. Nozick looked up and asked if she was ready, her reply being, "Yes yes. Such prices though."

Nozick simply replied, "Umm, that's why the bank over at the base's PX has a place to switch currency over to quinaults in debit form. If ya did that, then it'd be less pricey..." Leaning in, he continued, lowering his voice to a whisper to ensure the clerk didn't hear his complaint: "...and though the service sucks here, she has a point."

Mari said, placing her hands on her hips and giving him a playful, if skeptical look: "You know me well enough to know a good nohnha like myself pays only cash."

He shrugged and then said "As you wish."

-------------

Matthias, meanwhile, met up with Hong over in the section of the store that sold martial arts films from all over the GFFA, and some anime titles. Hong picked up the anime, put it down, and then browsed some more for the kung fu stuff. He liked a nice "chopsocky" flick once in a while, and when the gang got together with a few bottles of whiskey, some really witty (and really dumb) stuff would get said, all to great hilarity. After all, a, b, and z grade kung fu flicks and badly drawn and produced anime could always get a laugh.

Matthias, on the other hand, thought differently. He sneered at the section; for him, anime was an immature waste of time and kung fu movies were too violent, with not enough plot to go around. Hong noticed the sneer, and said, "You don't gotta look, man."

Matthias only said, "A shame you cannot watch fine cinema. The works of the German masters and Shakespeare are much more fulfilling."

Hong only shrugged and said, "Matthias, you really need to get out of your cubbyhole. The Elves didn't invent everything. Here, try this."

He tossed Matthias a box set of an adaptation of Romance of the Three Kingdoms Infinity, which happened to be a remake of the venerable Chinese adventure set in an intergalactic war. He then said, "It's got an excellent plot, anime style animation, and--ya won't believe this--a good plot. Try it sometime. Your brain isn't made of brown sugar, ya know."

Matthias sighed. These guys....

"Something I can help you with?" the clerk calls over to Hong and Matt.

Hong replied, shouting enthusiastically, "Oh, one question. Can I get a price quote on this?" He held up Matthias' hand with the goods, albiet with some unwillingness on Matthias' part. Matthias himself looked beet red, a sign of rather grand embarassment, as he pointed out, "Um, he wants it."

Hong then replied, to both the lady and Matthias, "Um, no, that's a damn lie and you know it. He wants it."

The clerk raises an eyebrow. "Bring it over and I'll scan it." She takes the case and runs it under the laser. "How will you be paying if you buy it?"

Hong grabbed Matthias by the shoulder, getting him in a bear's grip. Matthias was clearly uncomfortable; he wasn't used to his personal space being intruded upon in such a manner in public. Elves had rituals as to how one accessed personal space, and Hong violated all of them.

Hong then loudly, jauntly, and with pride, declared, pointing to Matthias: "He'll be using my debit card, in quinalts."

The clerk raises an eyebrow at the strange behavior of her customers, but doesn't comment. Instead she takes the item and runs it under the scanner, not bothering to note that the price is already on the tag. "Fourteen quinaults," she announces.

Hong then hands his debit card over to the clerk. At that point, Matthias took him over to the side, quite angrily. Putting his hand on Hong's shoulders and whispering loudly, he said, "Verdamnt! I have personal space you know. You did not ask for my permission, and issue apology!"

Hong then fired back quickly, "Ever heard of a fucking joke? Anyway, this isn't Baden-Baden. You're in the outside world, buddy. So at least try interacting with us and act like we're friends."

Matthias then said, shaking his head, "It. was. in. the. manual. Show sensitivity to other cultures. Like mine."

Shocked, a statement of, "What, did I make you look....feigelah? Jeez. Fine, I'm sorry. Just stop being embarassing."

Matthias said nothing, only glaring at his friend. Humans could be so...irritating. Hong was really the only one who talked to him, but his company could become very tiring, very quickly. Among his people, there was a certain level of manners, hushed tones, and discourse that business was conducted in and in which people talked to each other in. Hong apparently, despite knowledge of that, ignored those prohbitions and acted at times like he was a "father" of sorts. And Matthias figured he had a dad already. Oh and one more thing? He especially resented that last comment. He knew what that word meant, and it was especially insulting as an elf to hear that.

Hong then returned to the desk, saying, "Sorry about that.

"As long as you don't cause trouble," the clerk warns blandly, handing back the card and a bag containing the movie. "Have a nice day, you two."

Hong and Matthias then took the goods, moving towards the entrance. Hong then turned to the others, and said, "Guys, we'll be outside, okay?"

Mari and Nozick nodded, and proceeded to browse some more, before leaving themselves. Nozick then said, rolling his eyes, "That was fun....shame the customer service isn't better though."

They then began walking again, this time coming upon a road full of clothing shops. Looking for an opportunity for new suits, they moved towards that side of the street. Mari herself didn't care much for style, and frowned upon this turn of events...

As midday progresses further into afternoon the street traffic declines; though there are still a fair number of people out and about. There are a couple of clothing retailers in this part of the city, as well as a tailor shop. As clothing is branded a necessity by the Xanthalian government, all citizens are granted an allowance for which they do not have to pay. The New Dornalians, though, are not citizens. Those who don't pay Xanthalian taxes do not benefit from government purchase programs. Clothing made domestically is quite cheap, but foreign fashion is prohibitively expensive.

The guys walk inside the tailors', and begin browsing about. The shop itself seems to cater to them, with its racks of dress shirts, ties, leather belts and what seem to be the mainstay, fine suits, with bolts of cloth on display. Mari looks at the dresses on display, and is intrigued by a locally made sundress. It bears the markings of the man who made it, which she reads quietly as: "E. Torstensson and Sons, Fine Clothiers, Keltas. Hmm..."

"Par, par!" A cheerful old man's voice comes from the back room. "Kaylel ni kas minoot!" A few moments pass, then an elderly human emerges, wiping his hands on a rag. "Oh, sorry," he says, seeing his customers for the first time. "What can I do for you?"

Mari, fixated on the sundress, only turned for a second to glance back at the kindly old man, before turning back to the dress. Fascinated with the weave, the yellow that was shining but not too strong, and the generally conservative yet cute look about it, she said to the man, "Tell me, what size is this sundress?"

The others didn't understand her fixation with the sundress, to them it looked like just an ordinary dress. Still, they looked about. Matthias himself looked at the belts, while Hong and Nozick looked at the ties. They needed new ties.

"My granddaughter helped me make that," he beams, coming over to get a closer look. He's a short, wrinkled fellow, hair frizzy and pure white. He must be at least eighty. He wears a pair of spectacles that constantly slip down his nose, necessitating regular readjustment. "Margaret chose some great colors; not too flashy, but stylish. Let's see... that one is a medium, but my boy can make one in any size; even put a tail hole in, if you like." The attendant chuckles good-naturedly.

"Hold it up," he urges. "Let's get an idea of how it looks on you."

Mari held it up in front of her. Looking down, she beamed, letting a wide smile that also showed her pronounced incisors grow on her face. For all intents and purposes, she would look damn good in that sundress. Looking up again, she matched eyes with the old man, saying to him, "Well, I am a medium. Still, I'd like one a size larger, for breathing room's sake. And a tail hole, of course."

"Of course, of course! Right this way, then." The man hobbles over to the counter and pulls out an order form, setting it out for Mari and pushing a ballpoint her way. "I hope you don't mind old-fashioned pen and paper. My son'll copy it onto the computer later, but I prefer something I can carry around and pin to what I'm working on."

"Of course, of course! Right this way, then." The man hobbles over to the counter and pulls out an order form, setting it out for Mari and pushing a pen her way. "I hope you don't mind old-fashioned pad and paper. My son'll copy it onto the computer later, but I prefer something I can carry around and pin to what I'm working on."

Giggling, Mari said, "I don't mind. Well, where I come from, we like to do things in the old way as well. I mean, I still use cash." She then shrugged and said, "Can you believe it? Ay, ay, yo sohy una nohna vieja!" The last part was somewhat wistful, she quickly grabbed a hold of herself and said, "An old expression, joking about how a little old lady I am. That's all."

"Well, I don't know many catpeople, but you don't look that old to me," the old man quips with a twinkle in his eye. "Not many people look old next to me, though." When Mari finishes filling out the form, he looks it over and then tears the top sheet off, handing the bottom sheet, a carbon copy, back to her. "Alright, then, that's fifteen quinaults now; it'll be an extra fifteen if you want to keep the finished product." He drops the receipt in a folder under the desk. "This should be done by the end of the cycle. I'll give you a call when it's ready for you."

"How about you gentlemen?" he asks the others. "See anything that catches your fancy?"

"Well, I don't know many catpeople, but you don't look that old to me," the old man quips with a twinkle in his eye. "Not many people look old next to me, though." When Mari finishes filling out the form, he looks it over and then tears the top sheet off, handing the bottom sheet, a carbon copy, back to her. "Alright, then, that's fifteen quinaults now; it'll be an extra fifteen if you want to keep the finished product." He drops the receipt in a folder under the desk. "This should be done by the end of the cycle. I'll give you a call when it's ready for you."

"How about you gentlemen?" he asks the others. "See anything that catches your fancy?"

Matthias held a belt in his hand. It had some kind of symbol on it, definetly lots of engraving, and the finest leather he had felt in a while. He admired the craftsmanship, holding it up to the light and murmuring in German about it. Not since he left Baden-Wurttemburg had he seen something like it. His people had made fine clothes, and frankly he didn't know humans made clothing this good.

He then turned to the old man, and said, "Sir, I was wondering about this belt. What can you tell me about it?"

"Not much," the elderly gentleman says with an apologetic look. "My son made that; I think he said the designs were from Earth, North American. He'll be in tomorrow if you want to ask him about it," the proprietor adds helpfully.

"Not much," the elderly gentleman says with an apologetic look. "My son made that; I think he said the designs were from Earth, North American. He'll be in tomorrow if you want to ask him about it," the proprietor adds helpfully.

Matthias then said, "Thank you." He then put the belt on the counter, asking the man, "How much will it be?"

Mari then said, "Oh, which reminds me." She turned to Nozick and asked to borrow his debit card. Groaning, he threw it to her, and then she passed the card to the shopowner to pay off the correct amount of quinaults.

The clerk slides the card through and hands it back to Mari. "Thank you, miss." Turning his attention to Matthias, he looks at the belt, punching in the price on the tag. "That's six quinaults, young man."

The clerk slides the card through and hands it back to Mari. "Thank you, miss." Turning his attention to Matthias, he looks at the belt, punching in the price on the tag. "That's six quinaults, young man."

Matthias took out his card, and then handed it to the old man at the desk with a bow and a mumbling of blessing, in German, to the Elven Goddess of Commerce. These humans indeed had a friendly, simple way of doing things, and it showed. He knew he didn't need to do that, but he was so ingrained in habit.....

Hong then looked, and saw Matt performing his "Delivery Ritual," as it was called. He found it somewhat amusing...and irritating. Matt could be so centered on ceremony sometimes.

The kindly man swipes Matt's card and hands it back along with the belt, bowing politely. "And thank you sir."

The kindly man swipes Matt's card and hands it back along with the belt, bowing politely. "And thank you sir."

The group finish up shopping, deciding it's time to leave. Mari makes a note in her little notebook, reminding herself to come back to this man later for a fitting. And, all the while, Nozick's stomach begins to grumble...comically so. Mari snickers.

He then turned and asked the old man, "Say, would you happen to know any good restaurants around here? If you don't, it's fine."

"That depends upon what you like to eat," the clerk points out. "There aren't many restaurants around here. I hear the Casablanca is popular with the Dornalians stationed here," he suggests. "If you're looking for something a little more reputable, you might want to try Ifąe Frelăndăl."

"That depends upon what you like to eat," the clerk points out. "There aren't many restaurants around here. I hear the Casablanca is popular with the Dornalians stationed here," he suggests. "If you're looking for something a little more reputable, you might want to try Ifąe Frelăndăl."

Nozick and the others nodded, and then walked out, bowing and thanking the old man for his help. Nozick did not mention the incident at the Casablanca, only acknowledging some familiarity with it as he left.

He knew where the Ifąe Frelăndăl was. A buddy of his on base, an officer, had gone there and vouched for the food and the environment, which he called "a helluva lot better than the Casa," as the troops called the Casablanca. So, he and the group walked about until they found the restaurant.

About a minute after they leave the tailor pokes his head out the door looking for them, but the Dornalians are already gone. "Hm," he sighs, scratching his head. "I forgot to fit the lady for her dress." The clerk steps back inside, letting the door close behind him. "I must be getting senile."


Ifąe Frelăndăl means 'Meals of Freeland.' As its name implies, the food is of the type popular on Freeland. Since the common language of Freeland is English, the Mirfakan name seems something of an oxymoron, and perhaps rightly so. As is often the case when cuisine is brought to a new country, the dishes are not authentic. Most have been adapted to better suit the rather more bland tastes of xanthalians and than.

The restaurant is a single-floor building straddling the downtown area adjacent to a residential neighborhood. Like the rest of the city the exterior is a nondescript tan composite material. The only apparent distinguishing features are the address plaque and a plastic sign affixed near the door proclaiming the establishment's name.

About a minute after they leave the tailor pokes his head out the door looking for them, but the Dornalians are already gone. "Hm," he sighs, scratching his head. "I forgot to fit the lady for her dress." The clerk steps back inside, letting the door close behind him. "I must be getting senile."


Ifąe Frelăndăl means 'Meals of Freeland.' As its name implies, the food is of the type popular on Freeland. Since the common language of Freeland is English, the Mirfakan name seems something of an oxymoron, and perhaps rightly so. As is often the case when cuisine is brought to a new country, the dishes are not authentic. Most have been adapted to better suit the rather more bland tastes of xanthalians and than.

The restaurant is a single-floor building straddling the downtown area adjacent to a residential neighborhood. Like the rest of the city the exterior is a nondescript tan composite material. The only apparent distinguishing features are the address plaque and a plastic sign affixed near the door proclaiming the establishment's name.

Mari was unaware of the misstep, expecting the fitting to take place later--though she did wonder why this would be so. Meanwhile, as the group headed to the restaurant, they noticed the small sign, and entered. Wiping off their feet, they stood in line, waiting for a seat. They didn't know what to expect, as not one of them ate there before themselves. All that was said was Mari's pip of "Can we go back to the shop when we're done? I think I may have forgotten something over there," with some groans and general odd looks. It occurred to her to possibly ask why the fitting was so.

The Dornalians are seated quickly and given their menus. The list of options is extensive and consists mostly of variations on Earth dishes. Set up on the tabletop is a touch-screen monitor with which the customers can place their orders, but not before swiping their cash cards.

The restaurant is a long way from classy, but it's cleaner and better-kept than the Casablanca, as well as being roughly twice the size. It has no bar, though it does offer beers and wines as part of the menu. The interior decor is simple but colorful. The walls are painted green, blue, and black, the colors of the Trasnian flag. The wait staff have no apparent uniform, they don't even wear nametags. The whole place has a very casual feel to it.

The Dornalians are seated quickly and given their menus. The list of options is extensive and consists mostly of variations on Earth dishes. Set up on the tabletop is a touch-screen monitor with which the customers can place their orders, but not before swiping their cash cards.

The restaurant is a long way from classy, but it's cleaner and better-kept than the Casablanca, as well as being roughly twice the size. It has no bar, though it does offer beers and wines as part of the menu. The interior decor is simple but colorful. The walls are painted green, blue, and black, the colors of the Trasnian flag. The wait staff have no apparent uniform, they don't even wear nametags. The whole place has a very casual feel to it.

Nozick scanned the place. It was less threatening than the Casablanca could feel at times, definetly. But it also seemed to lack the adventure such a place could potentially bring. Well, that was just fine--he had enough trouble for one day. He just wanted to eat, get back to the shop, and then get back to the Base for some sleep. And by the way the others eagerly began browsing the menus, it seemed that the others thought some variation of his plan.

Nozick looked at Mari, and asked her softly, "So, what will you be having?" Mari's reply was to look up at Nozick with a slight sigh, indicative of tiredness, and said with a slight smile, "Maybe something like Split Pea Soup, and a Monte Cristo to go with it."

Nozick nodded, and looked at the menu. He replied, "Well, I dunno. To be honest, there's a lot here I could eat." Stroking his chin, he decided to relax a little, and said "I think I will get the 16 ounce Teriyaki Porterhouse, with steak fries. I need to eat this funk away."

Hong raised an eye and said, "Eating the funk away? Didn't your mother always said never to eat when you're feeling down?"

Nozick cracked a healthy grin, laughing as he said, "Well, that may have been yours, but me, I've got muscles to keep up and a competition to eat for. Besides, I'm not depressed. Where'd you get that?"

Mari then quipped, "Well, not many of us elect to join the Glutton Olympics. Just saying."

Nozick waved them off, saying nonchalantly, "Relax guys. It's not like a 72 ounce monster. Come on. I'm your pal, Leo Nozick, born on Luxembourgia and champion high school judo fighter. Just because of what happened earlier, doesn't mean I'm finished. There's plenty of other places. Just been busy thinking of them through the booze, that's all."

The others nodded, Nozick's reassertion seeming to be convincing enough. Hong eventually ordered the Chicken Katsu, and Matthias ordered a dish oddly familiar to the people of his area: Gaisburger Marsch. Or, for the uninitiated, strong beef, potato and sauteed onion stew made with South German buttered noodles, known as "spatzle."

When he ordered this, Hong raised an eyebrow, but before that, Matthias said, curtly "They have many things here. Spirits willing, I am eager to see if they have Gaisburger Marsch. If they do not have this then I will have something else."

They then placed their orders, swiping their cash cards (or in Mari's case, borrowing one) and then waiting for the meals to come. As for drinks, the others ordered sodas, save for Matthias who ordered a Kirin Lager Beer.

Though Matt is unable to find specifically what he's looking for on the menu, he is able to cobble together a fair substitute from the a la carte items. It takes about fifteen minutes for their food to arrive, and when it does, the fare is predictably bland. It's not really bad, but for someone accustomed to more genuine Earth food it's not very good, either.

Though Matt is unable to find specifically what he's looking for on the menu, he is able to cobble together a fair substitute from the a la carte items. It takes about fifteen minutes for their food to arrive, and when it does, the fare is predictably bland. It's not really bad, but for someone accustomed to more genuine Earth food it's not very good, either.

The soldiers recognized this; but with the drinks and growling stomachs, plus a decided lack of paitence, it didn't really matter that this didn't taste like the food your momma back on Earth would make. Besides, the staff was fortunate none of them were food critics--unlike say the company cooks. They were real assholes when it came to food, and the company cooks would have complained if they could get away with it.

Eating their meals, they became excited, talking about various subjects such as sportshooting, who was dating who on base, rock music, what was the best gauge of strings to use on a guitar, and eventually, Matt's habit of reading Tolstoy, since in between sips of his soup, he was reading again. Presumably, to avoid having to talk to them.

The Dornalians attract almost as much attention just being at Ifąe Frelăndăl as they did getting kicked out of the Casablanca. The residents of Keltas still aren't quite used to sharing space with soldiers, especially foreign ones. They get a lot of curious stares. A xanthalian child, perhaps five or six years old, struts up to say hello, but an adult, presumably his mother, grabs his hand and leads him away, apologizing to the Dornalians for the interruption with a bow.

The Dornalians attract almost as much attention just being at Ifąe Frelăndăl as they did getting kicked out of the Casablanca. The residents of Keltas still aren't quite used to sharing space with soldiers, especially foreign ones. They get a lot of curious stares. A xanthalian child, perhaps five or six years old, struts up to say hello, but an adult, presumably his mother, grabs his hand and leads him away, apologizing to the Dornalians for the interruption with a bow.

The Dornalians notice people are staring at them, maybe even discussing these newcomers and their funny mannerisms. Naturally, recalling what happened at the Casablanca, they fear getting ejected. Still, a child coming up to say hello isn't all bad, and even as the kid is led away, Mari waves back at them, saying, "It's alright, ma'am...." Things might turn up after all, they figure, as they go back and eat.

The next day dawns in typical fashion; because of its brown dwarf sun, even daytime on Shinra is bathed in low-wavelength reds and oranges. When there are clouds in the sky, this can result in some visually spectacular colors and patterns of the kind seen only at dawn and dusk on planets with a yellow star. Today, though, it is clear over Keltas as far as the eye can see; there is no lightshow, only the dim reddish brown illumination of Kanell as it climbs above the horizon and its long reflection on the ocean, not even enough to wake the birds to sing.

In this early morning stillness, a single KGB car, painted with the red hue of the Xanthalian flag and marked with the seal of the Ministry of Security, drives down the solitary road linking Keltas to Potemkin Sailors' Memorial Military Base. Inside is the city's senior common police officer, a gruff, portly old fellow of mixed asian and caucasian descent by the name of Francis Duvolle. On the seat beside him sits a datapad with the previous day's report of incidents involving base personnel. This early morning trip has become an almost-daily ritual for him since shortly after the Dornalian base opened, so there is no delay at the gate. He waves to the guard as he drives past and parks in his usual spot outside the main building.

Datapad in hand, Francis walks the now-familiar route to the station commander's office. He doesn't wear a uniform, preferring a brown trenchcoat and hat. He's liked the outfit since he watched old Earth detective movies as a kid, and when he became a desk officer he couldn't resist making the look his own. The officer comes to a stiff halt at the secretary's desk with a bow executed in part with his forward momentum, removing his hat in one fluid motion. "Mornin', John," he says; never one to bother too much with formality this early in the morning. Anyway, we see each other enough that we ought to be on a first-name basis by now, he thinks wryly. "Three guesses why I'm here."

Guessing, of course, is not required. It's the same routine as always; he's there to deliver his incident report to the Station Commander.

"Mornin', John," he says; never one to bother too much with formality this early in the morning. Anyway, we see each other enough that we ought to be on a first-name basis by now, he thinks wryly. "Three guesses why I'm here."

Guessing, of course, is not required. It's the same routine as always; he's there to deliver his incident report to the Station Commander.

John Knudsen, the bespectacled, nerdy looking secretary in dress uniform at the desk, says simply out of familiarity with Francis, "Well Frank, I can see you're here to deliver the incident report to my boss. Go on in, she's not busy." He's in a good, if somewhat busied mood. He is focused with some papers that his boss assigned for him to file and prepare, so he cannot talk long. But he knows Duvolle's voice--and when to reply--when the situation calls for it.

Madea Styuvesant, Germanic Elvish Base Commander with long, wavy blond hair and spectacles as well, is also in a pleasant mood. She is busy shuffling papers, and signing forms, mumbling an old song. Putting them down as she sees Officer Duvolle through the open door, she says in a Dutch accent, "Ah, Officer Duvolle! Our favorite police blotter incarnate! Do come in."

"A pleasure as always, Madame," the Xanthalian says humbly, wasting no time in handing over the datapad. He summarizes its contents from memory as the Commander looks it over. "The citizen that assaulted one of your people last cycle has a trial date now. The prosecutor requested that the Lieutenant testify against Ms. Jones; the time is in there, so please give her leave. As for offenses by base staff, just a few incidents yesterday; littering, disorderly conduct." These are minor matters that the KGB rarely addresses directly; Francis prefers to leave them solely to the discretion of the Dornalian Commander.

"The only major thing is that battery at the Casablanca," he says, referring to the altercation between Dan and Nozick early the previous afternoon, detailed at the bottom of the list. "We got a complaint about it late afternoon, a couple of my people checked it out and it seems ligitimate. The witnesses are listed on there, and a couple photos of the bruises on the alleged victim. If you'll permit it, I'd like to talk to the Sergeant and hear his side of the story."

Officer Duvolle enjoys a straightforward working relationship with Commander Styuvesant; he respects her judgment and she respects the nature of his duties, which allows them to maintain an amicable rapport despite the fact that they rarely discuss anything but bad news. They usually review the incident reports and talk to base personnel together; so far they have always been able to agree upon the appropriate remedies.

"A pleasure as always, Madame," the Xanthalian says humbly, wasting no time in handing over the datapad. He summarizes its contents from memory as the Commander looks it over. "The citizen that assaulted one of your people last cycle has a trial date now. The prosecutor requested that the Lieutenant testify against Ms. Jones; the time is in there, so please give her leave. As for offenses by base staff, just a few incidents yesterday; littering, disorderly conduct." These are minor matters that the KGB rarely addresses directly; Francis prefers to leave them solely to the discretion of the Dornalian Commander.

"The only major thing is that battery at the Casablanca," he says, referring to the altercation between Dan and Nozick early the previous afternoon, detailed at the bottom of the list. "We got a complaint about it late afternoon, a couple of my people checked it out and it seems ligitimate. The witnesses are listed on there, and a couple photos of the bruises on the alleged victim. If you'll permit it, I'd like to talk to the Sergeant and hear his side of the story."

Officer Duvolle enjoys a straightforward working relationship with Commander Styuvesant; he respects her judgment and she respects the nature of his duties, which allows them to maintain an amicable rapport despite the fact that they rarely discuss anything but bad news. They usually review the incident reports and talk to base personnel together; so far they have always been able to agree upon the appropriate remedies.

Commander Stuyvesant smiles and takes the pad, thumbing through all the reports. She then writes herself a memo, telling herself to give Lieutenant Hargrove leave for that court date, and to duly punish all those mentioned for littering and disorderly conduct with priveleges forfeiture and some extra, rather unpleasant KP duty. Mumbling that to herself, she eventually then says, "I see, Officer."

She then takes the time to read the assault report further. Going, "Oh dear," she sees the witness reports and photos. Stuyvesant sighs, placing the pad down before taking a drink of her coffee. She then said, "I suppose it's time for us to have a talk with Tech Sergeant Nozick. We can't have soldiers of the Workers State harming Xanthalian citizens."

She then got up, and looked at her watch. She then said, "Right. You can go ahead and talk with him. I'll come with to hear him out as well."

Francis hesitates, smiling sheepishly. "Eh, yes, well; I'll let you lead on. I'm afraid I'd be wandering the base quite a while trying to find him." Hastily replacing his hat upon his head, he follows her out.

Francis hesitates, smiling sheepishly. "Eh, yes, well; I'll let you lead on. I'm afraid I'd be wandering the base quite a while trying to find him." Hastily replacing his hat upon his head, he follows her out.

Styuvesant leads Francis to D Barracks, where Nozick is located. Despite its name, D-Barracks is actually part of the housing on base, and it resembles an apartment block more than anything. However, the accoutrements are still pretty spartan. This isn't the officers area.

Stuyvesant enters using the Base Master Key, and then knocks on the door of Room 24. A shuffling, mumblings that sound like a woman and a man cleaning up, and the sounds of a man getting dressed can be heard as the man inside says, "In a minute!"

The door opens to reveal Nozick in his regulation T-shirt and camo pants, slightly drowsy, slightly hungover from the day's drinking. Stuyvesant then says, "Attention!"

Nozick, at this, stands ramrod straight and salutes. She then goes, "Morning, soldier. Going to morning service?"

Nozick then said, "No ma'am, I'm Jewish. Don't do Sunday service. Besides, base chaplain doesn't care for my tone."

Stuyvesant then says, eyeing the name on the shirt and the plaque on the door, "Tech Sgt. Nozick, is it?"

Nozick nodded.

She then motioned towards Francis, and said, "Lemme introduce you to somebody. He is Officer Francis Duvolle, Xanthalian KGB. And he wants to talk to you about something that happened yesterday."

All Nozick could say was, "Oh shit. I knew that would come back to me."

"Sergeant," Francis begins with a bow, removing his hat respectfully. He straightens up and quickly gets down to business. "Could you please tell me what occurred between you and citizen Daniel Tebamba yesterday afternoon at the Casablanca Bar and Grill?"

"Sergeant," Francis begins with a bow, removing his hat respectfully. He straightens up and quickly gets down to business. "Could you please tell me what occurred between you and citizen Daniel Tebamba yesterday afternoon at the Casablanca Bar and Grill?"

Scratching his head, he then said, thinking: "Well yesterday, the sonuvabitch was strutting around, acting like a general nuisance. So I figured I would put him in his place. Opportunity comes when the bartender says I can have free drinks in exchange for teaching him a lesson at darts, since he likes darts. So then I have this round of darts with him. Next thing I know, I lose. So then, normally, I'd let it go, right?"

He then looks the officer in the eye, and then goes "Wrong. Because he decides to rub it in. The man walks by me, and then says--"

He then does a bad imitation of Dan's voice.

"Almost got me. Better luck next time, conehead."

Returning to his regular voice, he then says, sighing, "So then--I dunno, maybe it was the booze talking--I decide that I can't let him get away with that. So I decide to give him some tough love."

Stuyvesant nodded, saying, "I see."

Francis notes all of this in his head; it's also recorded on a device he carries inside his trenchcoat. "Please describe what exactly you did to Citizen Tebamba."

Francis notes all of this in his head; it's also recorded on a device he carries inside his trenchcoat. "Please describe what exactly you did to Citizen Tebamba."

Nozick raises an eyebrow. "You'd think they'd know what I did exactly...." he thinks somewhat incrediously. He then goes, "Well first, what did they say I did?"

"Please answer the question, Sergeant," Francis says, looking to the Commander for support.

"Please answer the question, Sergeant," Francis says, looking to the Commander for support.

Commander Stuyvesant glares at the Sergeant, and then says, "I can add an extra month in the stockade and loss of priveleges for six months."

Nozick sighs, and then replies, "Okay officer. I grab the guy, twist his arm behind his back, and headbutt him. Again, the alcohol was talking..."

"Thank you," Francis says with a small bow. He turns to Stuyvesant. "His story matches the others; I think it's pretty clear what happened. Citizen Tebamba suffered no permanent or serious injury, so this is a simple battery case. Still, an act of violence like this against a citizen of Xanthal can't be ignored by the judiciary.

"Assuming he'll be staying on Shinra, I'd like to proceed by having Sergeant Nozick appear at a preventative hearing, where he'll be interviewed and recieve court orders intended to reduce the risk of this occuring again. Provided he doesn't violate the orders, that should be the end of Xanthalian involvement in this matter. Whether you prescribe punitive measures of your own is, of course, at your own discretion."

"Assuming he'll be staying on Shinra, I'd like to proceed by having Sergeant Nozick appear at a preventative hearing, where he'll be interviewed and recieve court orders intended to reduce the risk of this occuring again. Provided he doesn't violate the orders, that should be the end of Xanthalian involvement in this matter. Whether you prescribe punitive measures of your own is, of course, at your own discretion."

Stuyvesant nodded, and replied, "Very well. Set up a court date and I will ensure he attends." Folding her arms up and saying nothing, its clear she treats this as just another procedure. Yes these are her soldiers, but they're also obligated by treaty to answer to local laws. And frankly, its never easy to send a man to the arms of Xanthalian law. As she notices Nozick grow sullen, she says, "Sorry, Sergeant. But this is the way it has to be."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Sergeant, Commander. I'll let myself out." Francis bows to each of them, then replaces his hat on his head and walks towards the exit.

The Commander leaves as well. Thus, Nozick is left to stew in his own juices, waiting for an inevitable court date and the mercies of the Xanthalian Legal System.

Mari came out, and asked, "What was that about?"

Nozick then said, sighing, "I gotta to court, because of that barfight...."

Mari then shot back, "Great, just great. Didn't we mention something about how this would get you into trouble?"

Nozick then snaps back, "Guess I didn't hear that." He then turned on the HoloNet streaming feeds, and began flipping the channels.....

Morning passes into midday, madday into afternoon, and afternoon into evening. The sun goes down and it's time for Matthias' appointment with Anaranë. Edwardo's Café isn't in downtown, it's in an upper-class neighborhood about a mile away from the city center. Edwardo's is widely considered to be the fanciest dining establishment in Keltas, known for its authentic and creative dishes, as well as its romantic atmosphere. The small restaurant sits on the street corner between two equally small houses. Inside, the place is lit by dim overhead lights and small oil lamps set upon the tables. Everything is made of high-quality, classy materials, from the granite countertops to the mohagany furnishings. As one would expect, it's also not a cheap place to eat.

Morning passes into midday, madday into afternoon, and afternoon into evening. The sun goes down and it's time for Matthias' appointment with Anaranë. Edwardo's Café isn't in downtown, it's in an upper-class neighborhood about a mile away from the city center. Edwardo's is widely considered to be the fanciest dining establishment in Keltas, known for its authentic and creative dishes, as well as its romantic atmosphere. The small restaurant sits on the street corner between two equally small houses. Inside, the place is lit by dim overhead lights and small oil lamps set upon the tables. Everything is made of high-quality, classy materials, from the granite countertops to the mohagany furnishings. As one would expect, it's also not a cheap place to eat.

Matthias walks into the restaurant. He is dressed not in his duty uniform, but in his finest dress uniform. It is a suit a shade of OD Green, with some medals for marksmanship, military decorations and a cravat, handsewn in Southern Germany and decorated with traditional German Elven symbols and wellwishes. He wears it in place of the standard tie, and is permitted to do so. His cravat is part of but a more complex Elven outfit, but he finds its odd mix of utilitarian style and classical finery to be somewhat out of place in Xanthal.

He walks to the maitre'd, and then says, "Party for two, I'm looking for an Anaranë Amandil?"

The host, a xanthalian, shakes his head. "Nobody has left that name with me, sir. Shall I take you to a table to wait?"

The host, a xanthalian, shakes his head. "Nobody has left that name with me, sir. Shall I take you to a table to wait?"

Matthias bows, nods and then says, "Yes. That would be great." He has come here to meet his date....perhaps he is early? If he is, then he may as well get the seats first.

The elf is shown to a table for two near the back of the restaurant. As the host returns to the front, he is replaced by a well-dressed human waitress. "Would you like a drink while you wait?" she asks politely.

The elf is shown to a table for two near the back of the restaurant. As the host returns to the front, he is replaced by a well-dressed human waitress. "Would you like a drink while you wait?" she asks politely.

Nodding, Matthias says calmly, "Ja. A glass of water, please." He turns to the waitress as he says so, then turns back and begins scanning the scenery.

There's not much to look at. All the windows have curtains drawn over them, and the interior design, while pleasant, isn't so detailed as to provide lasting amusement for the mind. Fortunately, Matt doesn't have long to wait. Anaranë Amandil makes her appearance just after the server leaves to fetch Matthias' order.

The elfin woman is a bit short at 155 centimeters, but her body is perfectly proportioned. Her breasts are firm and well-formed, but not too large. Her legs are slim and graceful, her body trim, fit but still delicate in appearance. Her face is flawless save for her ears, not quite human, not quite elf. She wears just a touch of makeup to accent her natural beauty. Anaranë's garb is a strapless red-violet dress that contrasts intensely with her eyes, cut low enough to reveal some cleavage, but not so low as to be overly bold. The material is soft and firm, frilling out slightly around her ankles to hide her feet and still not get in the way of her walking.

She exchanges a few words with the host, bowing politely, then proceeds towards Matthias.

She exchanges a few words with the host, bowing politely, then proceeds towards Matthias.

Matthias catches a glimpse at Anaranë. His eyes widen, and he has to rub them twice in order to ensure he is not dreaming. He then quickly turns and whispers to himself, "Mein Gottin...." as she moves towards him. Everything about her proved perfect, red dress, her face, her proportions, everything! And he then quickly shakes his head, to focus himself back into reality. After all, he is on a date, not an artshow. He then wipes his brow of the sweat and nervously looks up.

As she came to the table, he smiles, stands up confidently and then says with a bow, "Good day, Ms. Amandil-er, Anaranë."

"Good evening, Matthias Christian Kreuzberg," she teases him in a fake German accent. The lady switches back to her normal voice, coming in close to plant a kiss on his cheek and whisper in his ear. "Call me Anna."

"Good evening, Matthias Christian Kreuzberg," she teases him in a fake German accent. The lady switches back to her normal voice, coming in close to plant a kiss on his cheek and whisper in his ear. "Call me Anna."

Matthias suddenly feels giddy, but tries not to betray it. The peck on the cheek is unusually forward (at least to his standards) and it takes some getting used to. Still, it feels....somewhat good. The playfulness of it is teasing, in a good way. As for the faked accent...well, he's used to that. Besides, in his good mood, he takes it in stride.

He replies, smiling and looking at Anna in the eyes, "So, Anna....how are you this evening?"

"Well enough," she says pleasantly, taking her seat. "I heard one of your friends was banned from the Casablanca yesterday. Red wine, whatever's good." This last bit is directed to the waitress, returning with Matt's water.

"Well enough," she says pleasantly, taking her seat. "I heard one of your friends was banned from the Casablanca yesterday. Red wine, whatever's good." This last bit is directed to the waitress, returning with Matt's water.

Matthias became frank, and indeed somewhat sullen on the subject. He'd be bitter and angry about it--not at Bob, but at the Sarge for ruining a day better spent reading a good book--if it was somebody else talking. But Anna's pleasant demeanor and her almost angelic composition keep his spirits from sinking too low, so he only seemed somewhat sullen about it. He said simply, "Yes, he was." Drinking from his glass, he finished only saying, "He got into a fight with a guy named Dan, and as a result we were banned."

Anaranë looks surprised. "I didn't hear about that. I thought it was just Nozick. I'm sorry," she says, placing a hand on Matt's shoulder. "Let's talk about something else."

Anaranë looks surprised. "I didn't hear about that. I thought it was just Nozick. I'm sorry," she says, placing a hand on Matt's shoulder. "Let's talk about something else."

Relieved by the gesture, he cracks a small smile. Matt then says, "Yes. Let's."

He then said, inquisitively, "So, tell me a little about yourself. I'd like to get to know you better."

"There's not much to tell, I'm afraid," she says with a smile, plucking her drink out of the server's hand, then taking a sip as she meets her date's eyes. "I was born on Freeland, and worked as a freelance archetect until I moved here with the first colonists. Now I do design work for the Labule."

"There's not much to tell, I'm afraid," she says with a smile, plucking her drink out of the server's hand, then taking a sip as she meets her date's eyes. "I was born on Freeland, and worked as a freelance archetect until I moved here with the first colonists. Now I do design work for the Labule."

"Design work? You mean like drafting work? Intriguing," Matthias said, returning the eye contact. He didn't know about that. Besides mere beauty, she had the brains that came with artistry. Indeed, he had landed a good date.

He then said, "Dare I say it, with such grace of hands, you have the looks of an artist."

"You flatter me," she says warmly. "There's little art in my profession."

She picks up her menu and sets it at the table's edge. "Have you decided what to order?"

"You flatter me," she says warmly. "There's little art in my profession."

She picks up her menu and sets it at the table's edge. "Have you decided what to order?"

Matthias then got a deer in the headlights look for a moment. He had been so distracted by Anna's beauty that he had forgotten to make a decision about what to order! He then regained himself, held up a finger saying, "Hold on a moment," and then flipped through the menu. He eventually picked the New York Strip Steak. He then put his menu down, saying, "Ah yes. I think I will have the New York Strip steak, medium rare."

Anna laughs, covering her mouth modestly. "There's no need to be so formal, Matthias. I'm your date, not your schoolmaster." She rests her elbow on the table, cradling her chin in the palm of her hand. "Now that I've told you a little about my background, perhaps you'd like to tell me something about yourself?"

Anna laughs, covering her mouth modestly. "There's no need to be so formal, Matthias. I'm your date, not your schoolmaster." She rests her elbow on the table, cradling her chin in the palm of her hand. "Now that I've told you a little about my background, perhaps you'd like to tell me something about yourself?"

Matthias recomposes himself, and then begins to talk.

"Well, if you insist....I was born in South Germany. Hiedelberg, to be precise, in the Elvish Quarter. As a child, I loved to read, and in grundschule loved geography and mathematics. At age eighteen, the New Dornalian government first showed up in Germany thanks to the Los Angeles Treaty, announcing its presence and changing society forever--well almost forever, they let us keep some of our customs. Then, at nineteen, I had to do my national service, per New Dornalian law."

He then quickly added, "I still love to read, and I am good at drawing and marksmanship, though I am a little nervous around guns. Hence, I am here."

Anaranë looks up at the waitress as she returns to pick up the menus. "I'll have the enoos, and the gentleman will have a steak, medium rare."

"Very good," their server says with a small bow, then she retreats to deliver their order to the kitchen.

"I'm pretty good at drawing, myself," Anna says with a smile. "I have to say though, I'm a lot better at drawing machines than people."

"I'm pretty good at drawing, myself," Anna says with a smile. "I have to say though, I'm a lot better at drawing machines than people."

Matthias smiles back, and says with some enthusiasm: "Really? I've always found myself better at drawing people than machines. I mean, I can barely do automobiles....and even then, they look demented." He then lets out a small laugh.

"Ah, well," Anna says, then glances down at her glass, looking bored.

"Ah, well," Anna says, then glances down at her glass, looking bored.

Noticing her boredom, Matthias wonders what can be done. After all, his mother and father have advised him on countless occasions not to leave a lady hanging. Milling the situation over for a moment, Matthias then says, "Well, I suppose we can agree on that much; that our artistic difficulties complement one another's." He then goes, "So tell me....have you eaten here before? I cannot say I have."

"Many times," she answers. "It's my favorite place to eat on Shinra. It's a treat compared to the food at the shipyard cafeterias."

"Many times," she answers. "It's my favorite place to eat on Shinra. It's a treat compared to the food at the shipyard cafeterias."

Matthias looked around, and replied back, "Compared to a plain looking cafeteria....this place must seem quite a treat indeed. I must say that I can agree with you there--the commissary over at the base is quite plain compared to this place."

Made curious by her mention of "on Shinra," Matthias decided to explore the notion of travel, asking her, "Say, Anna--you mentioned this is your favorite place to eat on Shinra. Do you have any other favorite restaurants in other parts of Xanthal, then? Forgive me for the assumption, but it seems by your words, you have been to other parts of Xanthal as well."

"Of course, silly," Anna pokes Matt's chest with her index finger, giving him a look of mock disapproval. "Weren't you listening when I told you I lived on Freeland?"

"Of course, silly," Anna pokes Matt's chest with her index finger, giving him a look of mock disapproval. "Weren't you listening when I told you I lived on Freeland?"

Matthias grins once more. This time however, he does so rather nervously, recognizing that behind the playfulness Anna has a point--he did forget that Anna lived in Freeland. Then again, Xanthalian geography was only rudimentary for him, and besides, he had been distracted by Anna herself just a tad much....

He then said, chuckling with some minor embarassment "Whoops. Silly me, indeed....I suppose the hunger caused me to forget about that. I was always taught hunger makes the best spice, but somehow waiting for food is always so....boring."

"Ah, well," Anaranë says, using her free hand to gesture whimsically. "Life is full of waiting. Besides, at least you've got a lovely lady to talk to while you wait, mm? My favorite restaurant on Freeland... maybe the Aquarium? It's got great seafood; and there are huge glass tanks built into the walls with live fish."

"Ah, well," Anaranë says, using her free hand to gesture whimsically. "Life is full of waiting. Besides, at least you've got a lovely lady to talk to while you wait, mm? My favorite restaurant on Freeland... maybe the Aquarium? It's got great seafood; and there are huge glass tanks built into the walls with live fish."

"Live fish? Great seafood? Sounds like quite a place." Matthias says these things like he cannot believe it, or like a person who's trying to comprehend it but is getting a little lost. He then explains, "When I lived in Germany, seafood was saved for special occasions, like St. Maria's Day or the Earth Week. We mostly ate terrestrial meats and vegetables. I suppose geography had a hand in that, as did what we Elves call the Awakening..."

"Do tell," Anna says, watching him earnestly.

"Do tell," Anna says, watching him earnestly.

Matthias replies with, "The Awakening is what other New Dornalians call the Apocalypse. That is, hundreds of years ago, maybe even a millennia ago, a massive atomic war nearly wiped out human civilization.

We elves call this the Awakening because it was from this conflagration that the first of our kind were born, having risen in the forests and mountains as a distinct, rather long-lived people dedicated to living in harmony with nature and each other. We intended to begin anew what was destroyed. Hence, my people are very big on ritual and tradition, to avoid upsetting the balance of things.

At least that's how we Germans live. In other places, say Oregon or South Africa, they do things a little differently. I mean, my cousin down in South Africa says they love guns and honor more martial traditions, whereas we Germans only adopted them--and rather expertly, it should be said--as a means of self-defense, to prevent human and catgirl raiders and the occasional pogrom from killing us all."

Anna raises an eyebrow. "How does that prevent you from eating seafood?"

Anna raises an eyebrow. "How does that prevent you from eating seafood?"

Matthias then laughs. "I'm not an economist, so don't quote me on this. But I suppose the Awakening made seafood hard to get, what with radiation floating about in the seas and our resulting isolationist, landlocked existence making it pricey to get whatever seafood there was left after the Awakening. My grandmother tells me it was much worse back in the old days, though now it is much better."

"Huh." Anna has learned not to question what happens on Earth. The whole planet is nearly impossible to understand, what with the innumerable nations and states, the uneven technological development, multiple dimensions and timelines; simply put, it's a mess.

She wisely leaves the subject of Earth history behind and refocuses the discussion. "Well, what do you like to eat, then?"

She wisely leaves the subject of Earth history behind and refocuses the discussion. "Well, what do you like to eat, then?"

Matthias says, refocusing his thoughts, "Oh yes. I love seafood, don't get me wrong. I've gotten used to it in recent days, no thanks in part to the commissary over at the base. But I prefer to allow myself the pleasure of somehing with beef in it; something about the texture, the taste, and its ability to play well in a variety of the dishes appeals to me, be it steak, or an old stew from my land known as gaisburger marsch."

"Well, lucky you. They've got good cow meat here." Anna raises her glass. "Cheers," she announces, then takes a large sip.

"Well, lucky you. They've got good cow meat here." Anna raises her glass. "Cheers," she announces, then takes a large sip.

Raising his glass, Matthias then says in concordance, "Cheers indeed," before taking a large sip as well. He then laughs a little, saying, "That would explain a lot...."

Anna raises an eyebrow, expectantly awaiting some elaboration on the comment.

Seeing that he has to elaborate on his statement, Matthias sniffs the air, and then gestures at the kitchen as he explains, "Well, I was only commenting on that wonderful smell the steak here on Shinra gives off when cooked. I've always had a sensitive nose; I can tell from the kitchen."

He then says, "I also bring up the quality because I happened to eat some beef stew yesterday at a local restaurant named the Ifąe Frelăndăl. It was okay, but the good quality of the beef made it interesting."

"Ugh. You ate at Ifąe Frelăndăl?" Anaranë wrinkles her nose unbecomingly. "That's a Mirfakan chain; they couldn't make a decent Trasnian dish if you set the ingredients in front of them and gave them instructions."

"Ugh. You ate at Ifąe Frelăndăl?" Anaranë wrinkles her nose unbecomingly. "That's a Mirfakan chain; they couldn't make a decent Trasnian dish if you set the ingredients in front of them and gave them instructions."

"Perhaps you should have told our Fearless Leader that. He just wanted something to eat at a place where we weren't shooed out," Matthias says with some humor. He says the words Fearless Leader with some exasperation though, referring sarcastically to Nozick and his shepherding about that day. He then finishes with, "Remind me to bring you with us next time. You may very well prevent us from making that same mistake again."

Anna seductively moves her foot up the inside of Matt's leg under the table as she responds. "I'm a delicate flower; I can't be hanging around with big, strong, military men."

Anna seductively moves her foot up the inside of Matt's leg under the table as she responds. "I'm a delicate flower; I can't be hanging around with big, strong, military men."

"Funny; I'm a big strong army man. Why hang out with me then?" Matthias plays on her words as he notices the gesture under the table. He doesn't know how to react--such forwardness is alien to him. So, he merely smiles and gets comfy, as he thinks about what to do next....

"Because you're smart, nice, attractive..." she renews her smile, removing her foot from his left leg and starting on his right. "Do I need a better reason?"

"Because you're smart, nice, attractive..." she renews her smile, removing her foot from his left leg and starting on his right. "Do I need a better reason?"

"I definetly saw that coming," Matthias thought to himself, unsure of how to react to all of these advances. He knows Anna is flirting with him, or at least what Nozick would call flirting--his experience in romantic affairs and wooing is less than stellar. All he knows is that he must reply somehow....and he ends up saying, "Nope, I guess not," making eye contact with her with that ever present Dornalian smile.

"So tell me, Matthias," Anaranë says with a crooked look, "what is it someone like you does in the military? You strike me as more of a scholar than a soldier."

"So tell me, Matthias," Anaranë says with a crooked look, "what is it someone like you does in the military? You strike me as more of a scholar than a soldier."

"Well," Matthias said, adjusting himself in his seat and taking a drink of water, "I am a line infantryman. A grunt. Foot-soldier, per se. I'm not one of the specialist infantry, like Nozick."

He then shrugs with a characteristically Dornalian shrug, and replies, "Well, for that matter, I'm not much of a soldier, you're right about that. I'm in the military thanks to my mandatory National Service. I'm supposed to be here for two years--government regulations, you know, that sort of thing. Otherwise, I'd be in Baden studying for a degree."

He then chuckles somewhat bitterly, and says, "I could've been an officer, if I had made it into college before the draft man got to me."

"Do all Dornalians serve, or is there a lottery?"

"Do all Dornalians serve, or is there a lottery?"

Matthias simply replied, recalling: "Hmm. I remember what my draft board told me at my meeting. They mentioned a lot of things."

He then paused for a moment, and then began recalling the rules.

"They said all must serve the two year requirement when they become eighteen years of age, and are called up to either serve in the Navy or the Army after a physical and mental exam. Then, for the next twenty years, they are considered reservists in the People's Militia or the Naval Reserve, eligible to be called up again in times of war back into the regular service.

There are certain caveats to that, however. If you object to war on moral grounds, or if you claim hardships at home then you don't have to serve in the military but instead can work in a public works program or in another community capacity--whatever that is. I've heard of people serving with Internal Security, even, mostly pushing papers and assisting in investigations.

If you're in college or are about to begin college when you're called up, you get to spend time as an officer and even continue your studies. You might even get a deferment. Also, those with a sibling in the army or navy already are exempt from joining the military, unless they volunteer."

OOC: Credit goes to the Taiwanese for partly helping to formulate this conscription policy.

"Ah, well..." Anna is rescued by the waitress, who emerges from the kitchen with their food. "Thank you," she says politely, nodding deeply in the seated version of a bow as the server places the dish in front of her.

"Ah, well..." Anna is rescued by the waitress, who emerges from the kitchen with their food. "Thank you," she says politely, nodding deeply in the seated version of a bow as the server places the dish in front of her.

Matthias does the same, before bowing his head and briefly reciting a small blessing over the meal. Looking up, he then picks up his utensils and says, "Sorry about that. Traditional blessing my people do before every meal; shows our gratitude to Nature and the Earth Goddess for delivering us our meal." He then begins carving up his steak, doing so ever so delicately and politely, as he was trained to do as a child, and he tries some of it.

"Mmm...." he goes. Chewing it and swallowing, he finishes with, "Wonderful. I can see why you chose this place. They do an excellent job here."

"Of course," Anna says cheekily. "I wouldn't bring my date anywhere shoddy." She starts in on her own food, looking across at Matt with a pleasant expression. Such a nice boy, she thinks to herself. Just my type.

"Of course," Anna says cheekily. "I wouldn't bring my date anywhere shoddy." She starts in on her own food, looking across at Matt with a pleasant expression. Such a nice boy, she thinks to herself. Just my type.

Matt noticed her expression, and all he could do was relax and smile back as he nibbled on his steak. Caught up in the gaze, he could only muster a weak, "But of course."

"Gee. For a first date, she's doing her utmost to make me feel comfortable," Matthias thought. "Maybe I'm too nervous?"

Anna finishes her salad in due course, dabbing at her mouth to remove any stray dressing. Folding her hands in her lap, she politely waits for Matthias to finish his own food. "I don't suppose you'd like to share a dessert?" she says suggestively.

Anna finishes her salad in due course, dabbing at her mouth to remove any stray dressing. Folding her hands in her lap, she politely waits for Matthias to finish his own food. "I don't suppose you'd like to share a dessert?" she says suggestively.

Matthias, slowly and deliberately, eats his steak. Pausing to answer Anna, he smiles and says, "I've had such a pleasant time....so why not?" He takes care to observe his table manners as he does so, cutting the steak up into bite-sized chunks, chewing quietly--in fact, almost irritatingly so, as if he did not, his mother would come up behind him and scream. He eventually finishes his steak, and puts his utensils down. With some deliberation, he wipes his mouth.

The dessert menu is short, but tempting. Honey and cheese, crème brûlée, cheesecake, and a seasonal slice of pie make up the list. "What do you think?" Anaranë prompts, handing him the menu.

The dessert menu is short, but tempting. Honey and cheese, crème brûlée, cheesecake, and a seasonal slice of pie make up the list. "What do you think?" Anaranë prompts, handing him the menu.

Matt points to the pie, and says, "I think we should share the seasonal pie. Seems like a way to go, no?"

"Whatever you say, line infantryman," she replies with a smile. Her timing is perfect. The waitress returns to collect their dishes immediately after the decision is made. "An order of pie, please, and an extra fork."

The waitress bows in acknowledgement of the order and returns to the kitchen. "You don't mind eating off the same plate, do you?" It's something of a pointless question considering the server has already left, but at least it keeps the discussion going.

The waitress bows in acknowledgement of the order and returns to the kitchen. "You don't mind eating off the same plate, do you?" It's something of a pointless question considering the server has already left, but at least it keeps the discussion going.

Matthias, temporarily zoning out some as the order was made, snapped back into reality. He then said, somewhat confusedly: "I don't mind sharing a plate. I mean, you don't seem to have issue with it, no?"

Anna chuckles. "As long as you don't have any contagious diseases."

Anna chuckles. "As long as you don't have any contagious diseases."

Matthias bowed his head slightly, going, "But of course not, milady. I'm clean as a whistle."

Anna looks at him crookedly. "A... whistle? I don't believe I've heard that one before."

Anna looks at him crookedly. "A... whistle? I don't believe I've heard that one before."

Matthias realizes the fact he's confused Anna, and chuckles somewhat. He then explains with a shrug, "Well, it's a Dornalian expression. I don't get it either, all I know is that its from California, and it's a good thing."

The pie arrives shortly thereafter, and the two set about eating it. The filling is a Trasnian breed of apple that can be best compared to green apples; though the coloration and taste is just slightly off, the difference is difficult to notice for one who does not happen to be a connoisseur of apples, which it's fair to say most aren't. Unlike many pies, there is no sweet or syrupy filling; only chunks of apple and a rich apple purée to fill in the voids between pieces. Consequently it's distinctively less sweet and lacks the cinnamon flavor of most apple pies.

"Mmm," Anna intones, savoring the taste.

The pie arrives shortly thereafter, and the two set about eating it. The filling is a Trasnian breed of apple that can be best compared to green apples; though the coloration and taste is just slightly off, the difference is difficult to notice for one who does not happen to be a connoisseur of apples, which it's fair to say most aren't. Unlike many pies, there is no sweet or syrupy filling; only chunks of apple and a rich apple purée to fill in the voids between pieces. Consequently it's distinctively less sweet and lacks the cinnamon flavor of most apple pies.

"Mmm," Anna intones, savoring the taste.

Matthias takes a piece, and placing it in his mouth, chews it for a bit. Looking at the ceiling thoughtfully, he notices the somewhat different texture and taste about it. It's certainly different than the pies made on base, which could be anything from industrial-grade slabs to soft, gooey mounds of apple, sweet preserves and tasty goodness. Whether that was a bad thing...well, it wasn't actually. He happened to like this one. After swallowing, he has another bite, going, "Yummy" in the process.

"This is about as good as it gets on Shinra, but there are some places on Freeland... mmm. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it." Anna sets down her fork and smiles seductively at her date. "Thanks for agreeing to go out with me, Matthias. I hope I haven't bored you too much."

"This is about as good as it gets on Shinra, but there are some places on Freeland... mmm. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it." Anna sets down her fork and smiles seductively at her date. "Thanks for agreeing to go out with me, Matthias. I hope I haven't bored you too much."

Matthias replies, snatching another bite of the pie before he talks, "Oh no, don't worry about it. It was my pleasure." He then smiles back. Their chats over the period of the meal, from the waiting until now, were mostly mundane, but enjoyable affairs--and enjoyable was what counted for Matthias. Now, he could say he had gone on a date--a good one too.

The waitress returns to take what's left of their dishes and leave the bill, a white slip of paper set face down between the two in the center of the table. "I'm glad," Anna says warmly. "I enjoyed myself, too."

The waitress returns to take what's left of their dishes and leave the bill, a white slip of paper set face down between the two in the center of the table. "I'm glad," Anna says warmly. "I enjoyed myself, too."

Matthias nods and then points at the bill, asking, "May I see that?" He was rather curious to figure out how much all this luxury cost....and who would have to foot the bill.

Anna blushes. "Such a gentleman." She hands him the bill. "It's good to know there are still some guys who know how to treat a lady." She rises from her chair and fluidly moves around the table, planting a kiss on Matt's cheek. "Thanks again for the date Matty. I hope I'll see you again soon." She passes him a folded scrap of paper with her phone number inside. "Call me if you feel the same way."

She doesn't wait for a response, but heads for the door, looking every bit as beautiful and graceful as when she came in, but this time her back is to Matthias, and she allows herself a self-satisfied smile. She has a good feeling about this one. He's naive; easy to string along and easy to dump. Exactly what she looks for in a man.

Matthias is left alone at the table with Anna's phone number and the Œ50 bill.

Matthias is left alone at the table with Anna's phone number and the Œ50 bill.

And with that, Matthias greeted the scene with a "deer in the headlights" look. A head scratch followed, as did a look at the windows and all around the restaurant. All he wanted to do was just look at it....

"She's an odd one. All I wanted to do was have a quick look. Hmm. Must have had somewhere to go, I guess?" he thought, sitting there for a few minutes and contemplating what had just occurred. He then picked up the bill, put his debit card on it, and handed it to the waiter for payment. When the transaction was finished and he got his card back, he then took the note with her name on it, and then left the restaurant with his belongings.

By the time Matthias returns to base, Nozick has recieved his court date; three days from now, in the late morning. Kanell has vanished over the horizon, leaving this side of the planet in darkness save for the stars and the artificial glow of manmade lighting. Though the planet has a moon, it is small and rough; it reflects little light and is difficult to make out in the night sky. This region does not have much noctournal wildlife, which makes the night very quiet, very still.

The stillness is broken by the last bus to return from the city, and Matthias returns back to his apartment at D-Barracks. He then put his coat back up, and took off his dress blues, changing into some more casual clothing. Mainly, a t-shirt reading "ARMY," usually issued for PT, and some flannel lounge pants. He then flopped back into a simple, yet comfortable chair, before pulling out his phone, and calling Nozick and Mari.

-------------------

Nozick and Mari were brooding over the court date. Nozick sat down in the chair that was in their apartment, sighing and reading the letter over and over again. "So this is it then? One stupid mistake....and I gotta go to court...."

Mari shook her head as she poured shots of tequila for both of them, to try and calm the uglies swelling up in the room. Or at least try to. She only said, "I'm not going to comment on this...I will say we should have understood the rules of Xanthalian darts, though, si?"

"I thought you weren't going to comment," Nozick replied, sighing as he threw the paper on the floor in disgust. He then turned the TV on, revealing another episode of Hong Kong Supercop.

Then, the phone rang. Mari sighed, and then picked it up.

"Gutenmorgen, is Mari there?"

Mari then simply rolled her eyes, cradling the phone in her chin as she served the alcohol. She then replied, "No, its the fucking tooth fairy. Yes, Matthias, its Mari."

The voice on the other end got nervous, saying, "Gee....I could call back later."

"No, no, it's alright. You're always welcome here." She then took a swig of the tequila, and then continued, saying, "So what is it?"

"You remember that girl from the bar?" Matthias replied. "Anarane Amandil?"

Mari's eyes then perked up, and she then went, "Si? Why?"

She then realized he had gone out on a date with Anarane, hence the mention. Why he needed to talk to her about it now was beyond her imagining though.

"Ah yes! The date? How did it go?"

Matthias then said, confidently, "I think it went relatively well. We communicated, we swapped some background info about ourselves, and then I paid the check." He then filled in the details afterwards, talking about how they swapped culture, talked shop, and discussed food and her dislike of the Ifra Frelandal, as well as her job as what was essentially a draftswoman.

However, Mari then became somewhat intrigued by the last bit. Matthias had paid the check--usually, the boyfriends she went out with before meeting Nozick made her pay, or at least shoulder some part of the bill. This was good to hear; that a man was taking some responsibility. She then continued by saying, "You paid?"

"Yeah. Here's the thing. After I asked to see the bill, she left me her phone number and left me to pay the bill."

Mari's sixth sense tingled at that moment. Something was up.

"Wait, why did she do that? That's kinda wierd, no?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure."

Mari knew something was wrong. She let out a nervous chuckle, and then said, "Wait. So you just let her stick you with the check, without complaint?"

"No, it was more like she left before I could say anything."

A pause.

Now, Mari knew there was definetly something up with this lady. She was all for men paying the check, but to have Matthias do so in that way seemed a little much....

"I see. You sure she's not just playing you?"

Matthias then said, skeptically, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there must be something up with this chica. She seems like a nice girl, but...."

"But what? Anarane is one of the nicest people I've met so far...."

"Yeah, but I'm thinking she's probably the only girl you've met so far outside of your town. Lots of girls aren't like that, si?"

"I suppose....thanks."

Matthias hung up, skeptical of what Mari had said. Nah, it couldn't be....right......? Still, it gave him something to think about--though Anarane seemed like a nice enough woman. Mari, meanwhile, simply thought to herself, "Next date is going to be a double, I swear....."

The day dawns dark, with thick black clouds obscuring the sky to the horizon all around and steady rain falling upon the city and surrounding area. The large courthouse is very quiet; cases are heard behind closed doors that keep the noise out of the hallways, and the staff work quietly behind their desks as guests and those waiting to go before a judge sit silently or carry on hushed conversations in the waiting rooms. The whole place has an air of solemnity, with high ceilings, dated archetecture, and a disproportionate number of people in formal attire.

As part of the process of checking in, Nozick is joined by another man, a human perhaps fifty years of age, in the lobby. The fellow is of average height, skinny and sporting a long but well-trimmed beard and sideburns. A face lined with shallow wrinkles is framed by the black and gray of his aged hair, which has noticeably receeded from his forehead. Deep brown eyes peer out at the young Nozick with a knowing gleam. "I am Muhammed Elysian," he introduces himself with a bow. "If you wish, I will be your legal counsel."

Nozick, sullen and somewhat groggy from having woken up only an hour before, wipes his eyes and looks about. The thin man next to him makes an odd contrast to the somewhat jocky Dornalian, who's somewhat larger, and dressed in his "dress blues," a slang term for the Dress Uniform of the Red Army, which was Forest Green, a syncretic mix of Soviet and American styles, and had a peaked cap that made him stand out. He then said, groggily, "Um....okay. You know Xanthalian law and can talk up a good argument as well as the guy on base...what's that guy at the base's name.....at the JAG Office....Rosenberg? Yeah. You know the law as good as he does? If you do, I might take you on. If not, I'll stick with Rosenberg."

"I'm afraid I can't make a comparison, not knowing the man you speak of. I am a level three specialist in Xanthalian Law with certification in courtroom procedures. I am employed by the Xanthalian government to advise and represent those being tried and sentenced for crimes before the courts of Xanthal."

"I'm afraid I can't make a comparison, not knowing the man you speak of. I am a level three specialist in Xanthalian Law with certification in courtroom procedures. I am employed by the Xanthalian government to advise and represent those being tried and sentenced for crimes before the courts of Xanthal."

Nozick had to rack his brain. Rosenberg at the JAG Office knew Xanthalian law pretty well. Then again, so did most of the people at Potemkin Memorial's JAG Office. And, Rosenberg was generally a good guy. Nice fellow. But whether he could stand up in a Xanthalian court was the question. Besides, this guy seemed to know what he was talking about. And, he'd know how to navigate the vagaries of a Xanthalian court. After all, they did things differently here. The dart game that got him into this mess was an example of that.

Nozick shrugged and said, "Okay. You will be my counsel. Tell me, what do I need to know to get out of here alive?"

"You can have multiple advisors, you know," the lawyer says. "If you'd feel more comfortable having this Rosenberg fellow with you, you're welcome to. The hearing begins in less than sixteen degrees though; if he is to attend, he should not be late. Please, come with me."

Nozick is led down a side hall to a small room with a square table and four computer terminals, one in front of each seat. "Please, sit," Elysian invites him before taking a seat himself. "Before we begin, I will need to see your identification card."

"You can have multiple advisors, you know," the lawyer says. "If you'd feel more comfortable having this Rosenberg fellow with you, you're welcome to. The hearing begins in less than sixteen degrees though; if he is to attend, he should not be late. Please, come with me."

Nozick is led down a side hall to a small room with a square table and four computer terminals, one in front of each seat. "Please, sit," Elysian invites him before taking a seat himself. "Before we begin, I will need to see your identification card."

Nozick nodded and pulled out his New Dornalian Military ID, a simple little card with a magnetic strip and RFID tag in it with the logo of the Red Army in back, his picture on one side, and a bunch of data on the other featuring name, date of birth, whatnot. He then pulled out his Xanthalian documentation as well. Not sure if it was really required, but Commander Stuyvesant insisted everyone get registered with the local authorities. Avoid legal trouble.

Nozick then replied, brightening only so slightly at the news he could take on Rosenberg after all, "Then I'll make a legal team. You and Rosenberg. How is that?"

-----------------

As this occured, a thin, lanky man with glasses, carrying a briefcase that looked too big for him to handle and with an expression that would make Alice's White Rabbit seem calm by comparison, ran into the Courthouse with all due speed. He bumped into a clerk, and then bowed slightly, tipping his peaked cap and saying, "Excuse me!" before running off to the reception desk.

When he got up there, he put his briefcase down and said, in a frantic Broad Australian accent, "Hello. I'm Lieutenant Elliot Rosenberg, Army Judge Advocate General's Office at Potemkin. I'm here to represent Tech Sergeant Nozick. Where can I find him!?"

The receptionist looks up calmly at the hurried man. "Identification card, please."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Muhammed works with the computer with one hand as he selects Leonid's Xanthalian ID from the offered documentation with the other. He swipes his own card, then the Dornalian's, then hands the card back to him. "Alright Mister Nozick, I see here that you've been accused of battery and you intend to accept the charge; is that correct?"

The receptionist looks up calmly at the hurried man. "Identification card, please."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Muhammed works with the computer with one hand as he selects Leonid's Xanthalian ID from the offered documentation with the other. He swipes his own card, then the Dornalian's, then hands the card back to him. "Alright Mister Nozick, I see here that you've been accused of battery and you intend to accept the charge; is that correct?"

Rosenberg frantically pulls out his wallet and rummages around it; bits of paper, reciepts, old ticket stubs and a photo of a woman fly out before he produces his Military ID and his Xanthalian ID. Placing these items on the desk, he then proceeds to clean up the mess, mumbling, "Jesus...I'm late....I'm going to be late....."

_------------------

Nozick's eyes widen, in disbelief at the situation. He can't exactly believe what he's hearing. Plea bargain!? He didn't remember making a plea--this he told Muhammad in a slightly exasperated tone:

"Mr. Elysian. I don't think this is right. I don't remember making a plea bargain. I remember recounting my side of the story, nothing more during that interview with the cop who showed up at Potemkin. I know I've been accused of battery? But a plea bargain? As advantageous as that might be, I don't remember making one, period."

"Second hall on the right, room 414, the receptionist says, returning the card.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Muhammed peers over his nose at the Dornalian. "The way the Xanthalian court system is set up doesn't provide for plea bargains. Either you committed the crime or you didn't. Did you?"

"Second hall on the right, room 414, the receptionist says, returning the card.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Muhammed peers over his nose at the Dornalian. "The way the Xanthalian court system is set up doesn't provide for plea bargains. Either you committed the crime or you didn't. Did you?"

Good thing Rosenberg opened the door furiously, before Nozick could make a reply. Panting and out of breath, he put his briefcase down and said, "Lieutenant Elliot Rosenberg, Army Judge Advocate General's Office at Potemkin. I'm here to help represent Tech Sergeant Leonid Nozick as part of his counsel."

Nozick said, "You can still join my team, sir."

With that, Rosenberg sat down and said, frantically opening his case and thumbing through his documents, "Right. Mr. Nozick, I would highly advise you to acknowledge your guilt and begin looking for a way to present your case in a sympathetic light. Say that there were mitigating circumstances, like you didn't realize the consequences of your actions, or other such things pertaining to an inability to make a rational judgment."

He then said, insistently: "I don't know if your other counsel told you this already, but Plea Bargains don't exist in Xanthalian law. Neither does Article 3 of the Dornalian Workers and Peasant's Bill of Rights or Article 5 of the Basic Law of the Revolutionary Armed Forces. Basically you have to talk. There is no protection against self-incrimination, be careful what you say." Nozick rolled his eyes, and simply said, "Lieutenant, I know about the lack of a plea bargain."

He then turned to Muhammad and extended his hand, saying, "My apologies, sir. Your name was?"

"Muhammed Elysian. Welcome, Mister Rosenberg. Now, Mister Nozick, are you or are you not going to accept the charge against you?"

"Muhammed Elysian. Welcome, Mister Rosenberg. Now, Mister Nozick, are you or are you not going to accept the charge against you?"

Rosenberg noticed Nozick give Elysian a look that could cut steel, and he interjected, "If I may. Tech Sergeant, you must accept this charge. If you do not, and you are found guilty, then you are also guilty of perjury. And Xanthalian Crime Scene Investigators and KGB have a way of finding the truth beforehand. As unreliable as technology can be, they've got a pretty good record when it comes to finding out the truth."

Nozick glared at Rosenberg now, and Rosenberg replied with a shake of his head, and a simple, "I'm sorry. The courts are stricter here; they aim for efficency and their own brand of justice. It's not like a Dornalian court."

Nozick threw his hands in the air and said, "Fine." Turning to Mr. Elysium, he said, "You win, Mr. Elysium. I deliver myself to the mercy of the Xanthalian justice system. You can begin preparing the sandpapered dildo now."

The Xanthalian lawyer chuckles. "I think you'll find your sentence more subtle than that."

He looks serious, now. "This is a good time to explain what you can expect in terms of a sentence, though. I see this is your first infraction. If you explain the circumstances I doubt the judge will have you deported, so you're probably looking at some sort of restriction on your off-base activities. The idea in sentencing will be to examine the circumstances of the violation and prevent future incidents by preventing you from engaging in whatever triggered your reaction."

The Xanthalian lawyer chuckles. "I think you'll find your sentence more subtle than that."

He looks serious, now. "This is a good time to explain what you can expect in terms of a sentence, though. I see this is your first infraction. If you explain the circumstances I doubt the judge will have you deported, so you're probably looking at some sort of restriction on your off-base activities. The idea in sentencing will be to examine the circumstances of the violation and prevent future incidents by preventing you from engaging in whatever triggered your reaction."

Lt. Rosenberg nodded, and then added his own voice to the pot. He said simply, "So, to that effect, it would be wise for you to explain what happened." Pulling out the papers from his case and thumbing through them, Rosenberg noted, "According to what I managed to gather of the incident before I arrived here, it seemed that while intoxicated, you broke a man's fingers over a game of darts."

Nozick let out a harumph, and said, "So what?"

"So what, is that you could easily explain that perhaps use the intoxication as the mitigating circumstance. You could say that because you were intoxicated, you were incapable of sound judgment and therefore unable to realize what you were doing when you played the game of darts and had the subsequent scuffle."

Nozick crossed his arms and simply replied, "Fuck you. I'm not giving up my right to drink what I wish because of a damn fight." To that, Rosenberg said, "You're quite stubborn, and that's going to get you no friends in that room, period. You could at least be sorry about your crime, and demonstrate a capacity for reform."

Nozick stood up and said, angrily shouting at Rosenberg "Now I regret taking you on. The fuck should I let these cocksuckers take away my right to associate freely for?! You ask me, this court's a buncha undersexed, underpaid, pencilpushers who don't have a lick of life in them! You gonna let them put my fate into some triplicate form and decide it in the name of rehabilitation! Protect me, you goddamn kangaroo humper!!"

Rosenberg then slapped the errant Tech Sergeant, and said, sternly "You need to calm down, Sergeant, or I will take my leave and leave you to the mercies of the court. You will lose, you will have more than your drinky-drinky priveleges taken away."

He then extended his index finger out, and poked him in the head to physically illustrate his point as his tone soured.

"I know the law here. Mr. Elysium does too. You are a guest in his country, and so am I. It will behoove you to behave! If you didn't learn that lesson already in Cultural Familiarization, then maybe this Court will ram it home. Is that clear?!"

The Lieutenant was pulling rank, and Nozick sneered at him for that. But he was right. He sat down, and said, "Right. Yes sir. I will explain to them that I was drunk, and that because of this, my judgment was impaired."

Rosenberg then turned to Elysium and said, "What do you think, Mr. Elysium? A fair plan? At the very least, he more than likely will be barred from visiting a bar or ordering alcohol in this town again. Better than any other sentence, I say."

"Thank you Mister Rosenberg," Muhammed says gratefully, happy that he didn't have to bear the brunt of Leonid's discontent. "If that is the case I agree he will most likely be restricted from drinking alcohol, perhaps also from bars. Bear in mind, Mister Nozick, the courts do not exercise their authority over the base in these cases, so you will still be free to drink there if you wish. I think Mister Rosenberg's suggestion is your best option."

"Thank you Mister Rosenberg," Muhammed says gratefully, happy that he didn't have to bear the brunt of Leonid's discontent. "If that is the case I agree he will most likely be restricted from drinking alcohol, perhaps also from bars. Bear in mind, Mister Nozick, the courts do not exercise their authority over the base in these cases, so you will still be free to drink there if you wish. I think Mister Rosenberg's suggestion is your best option."

Nozick nodded and replied simply, "Fine. You win, Messrs. Elysium and Rosenberg." Turning to both of them, he then asked curiously, "One final question. Who talks? Do I, or do you guys?"

"For the most part, it will be you doing the talking once you've accepted the charge. The judge will want to know what motivated you to commit the criminal act; only you can rightfully explain that. It is our job to observe, assure for your protection that proper procedure is followed, and answer any legal questions from you or the judge that arise from your testimony."

"For the most part, it will be you doing the talking once you've accepted the charge. The judge will want to know what motivated you to commit the criminal act; only you can rightfully explain that. It is our job to observe, assure for your protection that proper procedure is followed, and answer any legal questions from you or the judge that arise from your testimony."

Nozick, much calmer now, nodded in acknowledgement. It was different than the Dornalian trials, where one's legal counsel defended them in front of a jury, a holdover from before the Apocalypse. Rosenberg was slightly dissapointed he would not be able to advocate for his charge, though he knew this was the Xanthalian way.

"Do you have any other questions before we go to the courtroom?" Elysian asks.

"Do you have any other questions before we go to the courtroom?" Elysian asks.

Both of them shook their heads. Neither had any further questions. Rosenberg knew his place at the trial, and Nozick just wanted to get the charade over and done with. He didn't care if he couldn't drink anymore offbase. At least this would be over.

"Alright then, we'll try to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible for you." Muhammed stands up and leads them out, back towards the courtrooms. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but don't speak out of turn before the judge," Elysian reminds Nozick. Then they pass through the tiny anteroom and into the chamber where the judge is currently dealing with another sentencing. The Xanthalian lawyer motions for the other two to sit. He swipes his card in a computer terminal by the door and punches some information into it before joining them.

The courtroom is like one you would find in any number of nations across the galaxy; benches for audience members and those waiting to stand before the court, a bar, tables and chairs for prosecution and defendant teams, and in the front raised podiums for up to three judges. Off to the side is a smaller podium for the court clerk. Most of the furniture is made of wood, giving the room a warmer atmosphere than perhaps is warranted by what typically goes on there.

The judge is a clean-shaven human man, new to the bench if his age is any indication; he certainly looks under thirty. He wears the thick, puffy red robes that are the uniform for all judges in Xanthal. There is no jury box; Xanthalian law does not provide for juries.

"Dated case number two eight six one; Leonid Nozick accused. The defendant and counsel may pass the bar." Elysian and Rosenberg know the drill; they flank Nozick, walking to the front of the room and taking their seats facing the judge on his right. "You are accused of battery. Do you deny the charge?"

"Dated case number two eight six one; Leonid Nozick accused. The defendant and counsel may pass the bar." Elysian and Rosenberg know the drill; they flank Nozick, walking to the front of the room and taking their seats facing the judge on his right. "You are accused of battery. Do you deny the charge?"

Nozick stands, and simply says, "I do not, your Honor. I accept the charge of battery."

"I remind the court that Mister Nozick is in the Socialist Republic under Section Four of the 332 Treaty of Sapporo, and thus immune from unnecessary incarceration," Muhammed announces, his tone humble but confident.

"I see that, Counsel; thank you," the judge replies. "Mister Nozick, explain the incidental circumstances of your battery on Daniel Tebamba."

"I see that, Counsel; thank you," the judge replies. "Mister Nozick, explain the incidental circumstances of your battery on Daniel Tebamba."

Nozick calmly replied before the court, "Your Honor, I was with some friends from on base at the time at the drinking establishment we were at. We had a few drinks, so my judgment may have been clouded by alcohol. Under said influence, Mr. Tembamba walked into the bar, and I don't exactly remember who challenged whom to the round of darts, but I got involved in a game of darts with him. I lost said game, and thus irritated, I caught him and committed the battery."

"Do you believe you would have committed the battery if you had not been under the influence of alcohol?"

"Do you believe you would have committed the battery if you had not been under the influence of alcohol?"

"Um, yes." Nozick said with his head hung low. "I believe that, Your Honor. I was pretty irresponsible as it was, sir; but I think I may have been able to at least stopped myself if I hadn't consumed the liquor first."

"Do you believe there were any other extenuating circumstances that led to your violation? If so, describe them."

"Do you believe there were any other extenuating circumstances that led to your violation? If so, describe them."

Nozick looked at the judge with a curious look, before turning to Rosenberg, who shrugged. Turning back to the judge, he then said, "Well, the only one that comes to mind your honor is Mis-er, Citizen Tembamba's attitude that night. He seemed to be rather brusque, and generally one to, to use a Dornalian colloqualism, 'strut about like he owned the place.' I suppose his attitude, combined with the alcohol I consumed--though it was probably mostly the alcohol--goaded me into what I did."

That last part made Rosenberg wince slightly. Chances are, the judge wouldn't take that bit, and it might even strike him as attempting to play "the blame game"--a tactic that was a no-no in times like this as Rosenberg knew, perhaps especially in the logical, reasoned Xanthalian court.

"Hm." The judge looked down at his computer screen and worked for a few moments with that before returning his attention to Nozick. "It is the judgment of this court that Leonid Nozick shall be enjoined from consuming alcohol or being under the influence of alcohol outside the Potemkin Sailors' Memorial Military Base until he has completed a court-approved anger management program. He is warned that future offenses may result in revocation of his visa. Are there any objections?"

"The state has no objection," replied an old xanthalian woman from the table to Nozick's left; apparently she was the prosecutor.

Muhammed looked to Nozick and Rosenberg before answering. The Dornalian lawyer would know he was asking if they had any legal objections, not whether Nozick was happy with the ruling. If there were any confusion about that on the Sergeant's part, Elysian preferred to leave it up to his counterpart to explain it.

"Hm." The judge looked down at his computer screen and worked for a few moments with that before returning his attention to Nozick. "It is the judgment of this court that Leonid Nozick shall be enjoined from consuming alcohol or being under the influence of alcohol outside the Potemkin Sailors' Memorial Military Base until he has completed a court-approved anger management program. He is warned that future offenses may result in revocation of his visa. Are there any objections?"


Rosenberg said in his stoic Aussie accent, standing ramrod straight before his client could shoot his mouth off, "We don't have any legal objection, your Honor. We accept the verdict as it stands."

He then sat down formally, whispering to Nozick, "Don't say a damn word. Just don't."

"So ordered. You may pass the bar. Dated case number four one; Thomas Hunter accused. The defendant and counsel may pass the bar."

The party of three quickly leaves the courtroom, passing the next defendant along the way. Once they're back out in the hall, Muhammed offers a bit of parting guidance. "If you decide to take an anger management class, you can find a list of approved ones on the Xanthalian judiciary's website. It's been a pleasure representing you, Sergeant." With a quick bow, he's off to find his next client.

"So ordered. You may pass the bar. Dated case number four one; Thomas Hunter accused. The defendant and counsel may pass the bar."

The party of three quickly leaves the courtroom, passing the next defendant along the way. Once they're back out in the hall, Muhammed offers a bit of parting guidance. "If you decide to take an anger management class, you can find a list of approved ones on the Xanthalian judiciary's website. It's been a pleasure representing you, Sergeant." With a quick bow, he's off to find his next client.

Rosenberg then sighs and drags Nozick out of the courthouse.

As this is done, Nozick exclaims, "I don't have an anger management problem. What is their problem? If anything, they're not the ones using their emotions enough--fucking shit."

Rosenberg replied with some wisdom and a stern tone, "Don't make things worse, now. The locals don't like using their fists--they're civilized men, and so are we. Besides, nobody likes it when you play the blame game. Makes you look like a child--and to them, you looked like a spoilt brat who needed to learn to control himself."

"Fair enough," Leonid replied angrily. "I'll take their damn anger management classes. Besides, drinking is the only thing I can do around here. Can't make it with the local women because I got a girl and the women here don't put out like the ones back home, and there's nothing else to do." The defeated man then sighed.....and Rosenberg said, "Be grateful they didn't do anything worse, lad."

"I guess...." was the only reply.
---------------------------

Matt, meanwhile, was in a better mood. Having gotten ready in his dress uniform again, he immediately got a knock on the door. Opening it up, he said with a cheerful tone, "Gutenmorgen!"

Mari appeared in her own dress uniform, modified to meet a catgirl's proportions and physiology. In tow was Hong, who waved and said, "Hey."

He then frowned and said, "What do you want?"

Mari promptly shot back, "What's with the dress blues? You got a date?" She then let out an expression of surprise, covering her mouth as she gasped and said, "Ohmigod. You're gonna call her back, aren't you?"

"Yes. I have some free time and I intend to see her again." Going back in to check his hair, Matt continued with, "What did you want to do?"

"Well, Leo's pissed off. Apparently, the judge wants him to go to anger management classes, otherwise he can kiss his ability to drink goodbye. So I decided to duck out of the house for a bit with Hong. I figured it wouldn't be complete without you." Smiling mischieviously, she then walked in and grabbed Matt's phone, much to his complaints.

She then said, "Wanna come to the tailor's with me? In exchange, I'll let you go to see your girlfriend" with a nasty grin.

"You're not my boss!" Matt exclaimed.

"I'm saying--I don't like this chick. Seems like I'm paranoid, but I've got a bad feeling about her. You better listen to me and listen well--watch yourself!"

"Fine." Matt then left to go to the tailor's with the rest of them....

The tailor shop is just as they left it a few days earlier, though a few of the items on display have changed, having been bought and replaced by others. When Mari and Matt enter, there is young woman, a human perhaps twenty years old, manning the front desk. Most of her head, excluding her face, is covered by a headscarf, with the rest of her body, excluding her hands, covered in lightweight but opaque garments designed to hide her female shape. She looks up from a small pile of paper orders and greets the patrons with a cute smile and bow, hands held palms together in front of her. "Welcome! How can I help you?"

She looks up from a small pile of paper orders and greets the patrons with a cute smile and bow, hands held palms together in front of her. "Welcome! How can I help you?"

Mari walks up to the counter, asking, "Yeah, hi." Presenting the document she recieved from the tailor earlier, she said, speaking matter of factly, "I'm here for a fitting? For a dress?"

The woman picks up the order and looks at it briefly, then nods. "Oh yeah; grandpa mentioned you. Sorry we forgot to get your measurements when you were here before. He had to make it from memory. Hang on."

She trots purposefully into the back room, carrying on even though she's gone out of sight. "You wouldn't believe how unorganized things are back here. I know grandpa doesn't like computers, but he could at least file things in alphabetical order. I've tried to fix it, but he just complains; says he can't find anything. Ah, here it is."

She re-emerges with the sundress on a hangar, handing it to Mari. "Fitting room's over there," she says, pointing to the corner of the customer area where a curtain has been hung from the ceiling to afford the user privacy. "Try it on! I've bet a day's work it fits perfectly. Grandpa is awesome when it comes to eyeballing measurements. It's like his superpower or something."

Having dispatched Marisol, she turns her attention to Matthias. "Can I help you with anything, or are you just here with the lady?"

She re-emerges with the sundress on a hangar, handing it to Mari. "Fitting room's over there," she says, pointing to the corner of the customer area where a curtain has been hung from the ceiling to afford the user privacy. "Try it on! I've bet a day's work it fits perfectly. Grandpa is awesome when it comes to eyeballing measurements. It's like his superpower or something."

Having dispatched Marisol, she turns her attention to Matthias. "Can I help you with anything, or are you just here with the lady?"

Taking the sundress from the cheerful shopgirl, she eyeballed the dress and said, "Dang.....this looks nice. Let's see if it fits nice." She smiled at Matt and the shopgirl and walked to the fitting area.

Several minutes passed, where Matthias replied, "I am with the lady. I require nothing." Then, Marisol exited the fitting booth, twirling about. Standing in front of Matthias, she asked, "Well?"

"It looks...nice?"

Turning to the shopgirl, she then asked her, "Men. Guess I need an actual opinion, si-nya? How do I look?"

Nina smiles ecstatically, rushing over to inspect the garment up close. "It's like a glove! Awesome! I get a day off work!" She backs off to take in the whole picture, circling Mari slowly. "Well, I'm not too fashionable myself, in case my clothes hadn't tipped you off. Grandpa and Uncle Arif say I've got an eye for it though. Still, I'm not really an unbiased source on this one: I helped design that dress. Never thought about it having a tail hole like that; Uncle did a good job blending it in with the pattern."

Coming back around to the front, she nods in approval. "I like it. Especially since it wasn't really designed for a nekolan, you wear it well. Ooh!" She bounds back into the room behind the counter.

"There's this awesome sun hat Grandpa made for a different catgirl a few months ago, but she decided not to buy it," she calls out from the back room, over the sounds of sliding hangars and moving boxes. "It's got slits for the ears and everything, and it would totally match that dress- ow! God help me, you can't move in here without tripping over something. Now where... aha!" A moment later she emerges triumphantly, brandishing an expertly woven sun hat. She plops it on Mari's head and stands back to look.

"That is soo perfect! Check it out," she urges, pointing towards the mirror. "That's half price, too, since it's premade. Five quinaults."

Nina smiles ecstatically, rushing over to inspect the garment up close. "It's like a glove! Awesome! I get a day off work!" She backs off to take in the whole picture, circling Mari slowly. "Well, I'm not too fashionable myself, in case my clothes hadn't tipped you off. Grandpa and Uncle Arif say I've got an eye for it though. Still, I'm not really an unbiased source on this one: I helped design that dress. Never thought about it having a tail hole like that; Uncle did a good job blending it in with the pattern."

Coming back around to the front, she nods in approval. "I like it. Especially since it wasn't really designed for a nekolan, you wear it well. Ooh!" She bounds back into the room behind the counter.

"There's this awesome sun hat Grandpa made for a different catgirl a few months ago, but she decided not to buy it," she calls out from the back room, over the sounds of sliding hangars and moving boxes. "It's got slits for the ears and everything, and it would totally match that dress- ow! God help me, you can't move in here without tripping over something. Now where... aha!" A moment later she emerges triumphantly, brandishing an expertly woven sun hat. She plops it on Mari's head and stands back to look.

"That is soo perfect! Check it out," she urges, pointing towards the mirror. "That's half price, too, since it's premade. Five quinaults."

Mari's mood grew considerably more cheerful with the praise, especially since the shopgirl--Nina, was it?--noted that the dress was usually made for regular folks. The hat was also a nice, welcome touch--it had that antique appeal, a certain charm to it that spoke of carefree runs on the beach and screamed "cute."

Sheepishly grinning, she replied, "Dang, girl! That's good!" Looking over herself, she continued, "Well, gatas like me gotta indulge once in a while, si-nya?" The term nekolan wasn't unfamiliar and was certainly not offensive to the catgirl from Los Angeles, but she found herself, out of habit, simply preferring to use the colloquial "gata" to describe herself.

Looking in her wallet, she then coughed. Matt sighed, and handed over his debit card, saying, "You really have to get one of your own."

"Yeah yeah. I'll pay you back." She pulled out a wad of equivalent Dornalian currency and handed it to Matt, as she handed the debit card to Nina to pay for the whole outfit. "This will be for the whole outfit. I love it. In fact, take a little for tips for all y'all. You deserve it."

Matt winced, whereupon he was presented with more cash from Mari, which seemed to quiet him for now.

The clerk tilts her head curiously at the transaction taking place between the two Dornalians, but rather than be nosy she simply swipes Matt's card and charges it twenty-one quinaults; twenty for the merchandise, one for the tip. "Thank you very much! May I help you with anything else?"

The clerk tilts her head curiously at the transaction taking place between the two Dornalians, but rather than be nosy she simply swipes Matt's card and charges it twenty-one quinaults; twenty for the merchandise, one for the tip. "Thank you very much! May I help you with anything else?"

"Nope," Mari says cheerfully. "I think I'm all done here, chica. Have a good day."

As they leave the store with Matt's card and Mari's dress, Mari nudges Matt and asks him to, "fucking call your comfort woman already." Well, it's more like an order, but you get the drift. Matt promptly called Anna's phone number, still having kept the number from the last time, and said, "Hello? Is this Anna?"

Mari waited to hijack the phone, in the meanwhile....

The beautiful and seductive voice on the other end of the line is unmistakable; it's Anaranë. "Matthias? I'm so glad to hear from you! I thought you might have decided I wasn't worth a second date."

The beautiful and seductive voice on the other end of the line is unmistakable; it's Anaranë. "Matthias? I'm so glad to hear from you! I thought you might have decided I wasn't worth a second date."

"Umm....yes. I think so too.....schatzie!" Matt fumbled the words out as Mari saw, amused. His knees could be seen visibly quivering, as he attempted to figure out just what to say to this woman of his dreams. Upon noticing that, Mari broke out in laughter, exclaiming, "Damn! Just say it already you little bitch!"

Matt then said, "Do you mind?!" before turning back to the phone. "Sorry. I was...interrupted. So, where and when do you wish to meet tonight?"

"Ooh, I didn't know you could be so assertive. I was going to cook supper at home, but I suppose you can take me out instead. As for where... why don't you choose the place this time?"

"Ooh, I didn't know you could be so assertive. I was going to cook supper at home, but I suppose you can take me out instead. As for where... why don't you choose the place this time?"

Matthias smiled, and then it hit him. He didn't know that many places! Turning to Mari, he cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and asked her, "Quick, what's a good place to eat!?"

"The Red Knight, I suppose. Steak joint just outside the bus terminal leading back to the base," Mari replied. Raising her eyebrow, she smiled and wagged her finger, challenging him with a sarcastic, "So it's something fancy, eh? Then you will really need to try the Blue House. Korean BBQ joint."

Matt nodded, and replied into the phone, "The Blue House would be good. It specializes in Korean cuisine, from Earth. Might not be familiar...." He then interjected, "But it's good, ja!?"

"Sure, Matthias. What time?"

"Sure, Matthias. What time?"

"Six o' clock, perhaps?" Matthias said. "I'll pick you up from your place then...okay?"

Mari snickered. Leo had a Royal Enfield motorcycle he kept for when he didn't want to deal with the buses. Complete with sidecar, for when he took Mari into town--in a cute little helmet as well. She smirked, and wondered if she couldn't borrow it for the night.....

"Six what?" Anna sounds confused.

Mari laughed, and her chortle could be heard from Anna's end. Matt fumed, for it was plainly obvious that the volume on his phone may have been set loud enough for the catgirl to hear that Matt made what was generally a newbie mistake--Shinra didn't use either GMT Zulu time or the civilian parlance you'd find in New Dornalia, but a local system of reckoning that was probably better suited for the fact it rotated around a brown dwarf, where the planet spun around the sun in less than eleven days, albeit oddly with a day only slightly less than 24 hours. It was a big leap, to say the least for most Dornie servicemen, and it necessitated a clock on base with both local times and the times from Los Angeles for reference.

Mari snatched the phone with an amused grin. She spoke into the phone, "Hi, this is Matt's friend. He meant to say 270 degrees. Country bumpkins, ya--" She was abruptly cut off, as Matt managed to wrestle the phone out of Mari's hand, capping off the attempt with a kick in the shins. As he did the classic put-your-hand-on-a-shorter-person's-head-and-keep-them-at-bay-trick to keep Mari away as she struggled, a staple of Saturday morning cartoons and comedies from Earth, Matt spoke into the phone with a simple, "Yeah, what she said."

"Who was that? Well, nevermind. That sounds fine. I'm actually not at my room now, but you can pick me up downtown. I'm at the Casablanca now."

"Who was that? Well, nevermind. That sounds fine. I'm actually not at my room now, but you can pick me up downtown. I'm at the Casablanca now."

Matt brightened; he quickly replied, "Thank you. I'll be right there! Bye!" Hanging up, he said, letting go of Mari, "That was very rude. Don't do that to people when they're talking on the phone!"

"That's not a very nice thing to say to someone who's gonna be providing transportation," Mari fumed. Matt suddenly realized what she meant. That crazy motorcycle that Mari had used to bring them to the tailor's shop, that Royal Enfield, stark white, with what she called the "bitch seat" for the passenger and the sidecar....Matt shuddered. That little catgirl drove like a madwoman.

"Fine," Matt said. "But don't drive crazy. I need to get to the Casablanca to pick her up."

"Excellent," Mari said. With that, Mari got Matt to sit in the "bitch seat" and they sped to the Casablanca. Upon stopping there, Matt got out and walked in, to find Anna.

Anna is at the bar, drinking what appears to be a martini. Seeing Matt, she hands her I.D. card over to the bartender to pay and stands up. She's not as well preened as she was for their last date, but that's to be expected, given the short notice. In any case, Anaranë would look beautiful even if she was dressed in rags and hadn't cleaned or groomed herself for a month.

"Hey, Cutie," she says, grabbing her card back from the bartender and sauntering over to Matt. The slight wobble in her step is evidence she's been drinking for a while. When she reaches him, she drapes her arms around his neck, putting her face up close to his. "Thanks for taking me out again. Sorry I'm a little drunk. Don't worry, I just need some fresh air."

Anna is at the bar, drinking what appears to be a martini. Seeing Matt, she hands her I.D. card over to the bartender to pay and stands up. She's not as well preened as she was for their last date, but that's to be expected, given the short notice. In any case, Anaranë would look beautiful even if she was dressed in rags and hadn't cleaned or groomed herself for a month.

"Hey, Cutie," she says, grabbing her card back from the bartender and sauntering over to Matt. The slight wobble in her step is evidence she's been drinking for a while. When she reaches him, she drapes her arms around his neck, putting her face up close to his. "Thanks for taking me out again. Sorry I'm a little drunk. Don't worry, I just need some fresh air."

Matt smiles nervously, and attempts to support his intoxicated new date. He simply says, "Yes, it looks like you could use some." He was rather afraid about how far this date would go. She was intoxicated, and looked rather ready to act in a rather stupid fashion. Plus, her breath reeked. He calmly shoulder carried her in such a way that minimized the smell, but she was still rather close.

Upon witnessing the date, Mari sneered and said, in her best Fierce Latin Woman voice as she looked at Anna with alarm, "Oh. Hell. No."

Anna allows Matt to take her outside. She could probably walk on her own without incident, but a little help can't hurt, at least until she sobers up a little. Shen they get outside, she peers at Mari, smiling good-humoredly. "Hey, there. Are you Matt's escort? Make sure he doesn't take advantage of me, okay?"

Anna allows Matt to take her outside. She could probably walk on her own without incident, but a little help can't hurt, at least until she sobers up a little. Shen they get outside, she peers at Mari, smiling good-humoredly. "Hey, there. Are you Matt's escort? Make sure he doesn't take advantage of me, okay?"

Mari simply nods, holding her stern, annoyed gaze at Anna, saying, "Yeah, okay." She never liked being called anybody's escort--escort had many meanings in New Dornalia and it was possible she was using the one that didn't involve bodyguard work. Matt, meanwhile, chuckled somewhat at the suggestion he would do anything to her. Frankly, he was nervous enough, being that Anna was roaring drunk. Mari, for one, thought, "Yeah, and to make sure you don't do nothing, either."

As Matt escorted Anna into the sidecar and Matt got onto the Bitchseat, Mari said sternly to Anna, "Just don't do shit to my ride, ya hear? Anna, was it? This here's a Royal Enfield Bullet--Royal Enfield. A nice, shiny motorcycle, a fine example of British Engineering. Just cleaned it. Means I won't like it if your drunk ass does anything to it. Comprende?"

Anna quietly admires the bike; it's got great style and has been immaculately maintained. The cat girl obviously doesn't like her much. What's she doing here, anyway? She puts on a hurt expression, turning to her date for guidance. "Matthias, why is your friend being mean to me? Did I do something wrong?"

Anna quietly admires the bike; it's got great style and has been immaculately maintained. The cat girl obviously doesn't like her much. What's she doing here, anyway? She puts on a hurt expression, turning to her date for guidance. "Matthias, why is your friend being mean to me? Did I do something wrong?"

Matt replied as Mari sped off to their destination, "Um, well....Fraulein Marisol is a bit suspicious of you, I will admit." He then decides to pull off the classic "Don't hurt her feelings" move that most newbies try to make, and simply justified it by saying "Mainly because you seemed to be intoxicated. She would be fine with you otherwise, I think."

Mari, in the meantime, focused on the road. Privately, she thought to herself, "Jesus. Isn't it obvious, skank?" to Anna's question. But she figured she would let Matt field this one.

Anna sighs, letting the rush of air in her face wash away her intoxication. Despite what Matt says, she can tell there's more to the nekolan's attitude than disapproval at her drunkenness. Maybe Matt had told her about their last date and she's here to keep an eye on her. Well that's fine; Matt had offered to take her out, so by most standards he was obligated to pay anyway. She'd just have to be on good behavior tonight; make Mari look unfair. This could work to her advantage if she played her cards right.

Anna sighs, letting the rush of air in her face wash away her intoxication. Despite what Matt says, she can tell there's more to the nekolan's attitude than disapproval at her drunkenness. Maybe Matt had told her about their last date and she's here to keep an eye on her. Well that's fine; Matt had offered to take her out, so by most standards he was obligated to pay anyway. She'd just have to be on good behavior tonight; make Mari look unfair. This could work to her advantage if she played her cards right.

Pulling up in front of the Blue House, the nekolan, as Anna dubbed the very surly driver of the motorcycle, parked the prized bike in one of the establishment's many motorcycle-friendly spots. Killing the engine, she got out, as did Matt.

With a simple, "Let's go," Matt ushered his guest into the Blue House. Named after the old South Korean presidential building, it was a stately restaurant, simply built with austere Korean furnishings. Waitresses took orders, debit cards were swiped, and tables sizzled with grills working overtime as off-duty infantrymen were chatting away about myriad subjects.

An attractive waitress walked up to Matt and his party and said, "Hi. Party of three?" She then led them to a small round table with a hibachi in the middle, and presented menus. After getting that Matt wanted a glass of water and Mari wanted some tequila, Anna was asked, "What would you like to drink?"

"Water, please." She smiles sweetly at Matt. "I suppose I've had enough alcohol for one day. I wouldn't want you to have to carry me to bed."

"Water, please." She smiles sweetly at Matt. "I suppose I've had enough alcohol for one day. I wouldn't want you to have to carry me to bed."

Nodding, the waitress left to get their drinks.

Mari looked and simply shook her head at that last comment. Matt, in the meanwhile, replied, "Heh. But of course, schatzie. Romantic as the thought is, it would be good for you to stay standing, ja?" Realizing he was on the verge of rambling, he looked at the menu. The options were good mostly variations on marinaded meat that one could grill on the hibachi with generous side dishes of veggies and kimchi, that fiery pickled cabbage that could wake the dead.

"Ooh, look! The dinner for three.....marinated beef, kalbi shortribs, pork, chicken.....yum," Matt says. "What do you think? I am not sure about the spicy stuff though."

Mari fumes. "If that pussy leaves off the kimchi, I'm ripping him a new one," she thinks to herself.

Anna shrugs, casting a mirthful smile in Mari's direction. The poor cat seems determined to have a terrible time this evening. "I usually don't mind spicy foods too much, but I don't think I've eaten Korean food before. Why don't you two decide?"

Anna shrugs, casting a mirthful smile in Mari's direction. The poor cat seems determined to have a terrible time this evening. "I usually don't mind spicy foods too much, but I don't think I've eaten Korean food before. Why don't you two decide?"

"But of course, Senhora" Mari replies with some sarcasm. With a pleasanter smile, she addresses the both of them and says, "I say we keep the kimchi. It's good shit. We also should order the Dinner for Three. Enough for all of us." Looking at Anna, she goes, "Believe me, when you see the meat they got here--daaamnn! You ain't gonna want nothin' else."

Matt shrugs. "If you wish...I like the Dinner For Three...can we leave off the kimchi? I have a rather spicy tongue--"

"Look, kid. You can choose to wuss out in front of your new gal pal, or you can man up and show her you have balls big enough to crush North Korea. Well? What'll it be!?"

Matt sighed. The "Man Up" rule was a custom among their little group--and when someone said it, they had to comply. Matt replied, "We keep the kimchi."

At that, the waitress was informed, and sent on her merry way. Mari then drank a bit of her tequila and said, "Fucking good." Looking at Anna, the catgirl said, leaning in, "So....what do you think of Matt so far?"

Anna frowns. One of the things she likes about Matt is that he doesn't share the crude speech and attitude she has observed in most of the Red Army stationed on Shinra. Despite the less admirable of her own traits, she is at least proper in manner and speech. Talking to Dornalians reminds her of the personalities one could meet in the gritty urban back alleys of Freeland. One wondered if the whole of New Dornalia lacked civility or whether it was just the country's army.

Putting on a skin-deep happy face, she replies to Mari while pointedly reaching for Matt's hand across the table. "Matthias is a very nice boy. He's charming and smart; quite out of place among the base personnel."

Anna frowns. One of the things she likes about Matt is that he doesn't share the crude speech and attitude she has observed in most of the Red Army stationed on Shinra. Despite the less admirable of her own traits, she is at least proper in manner and speech. Talking to Dornalians reminds her of the personalities one could meet in the gritty urban back alleys of Freeland. One wondered if the whole of New Dornalia lacked civility or whether it was just the country's army.

Putting on a skin-deep happy face, she replies to Mari while pointedly reaching for Matt's hand across the table. "Matthias is a very nice boy. He's charming and smart; quite out of place among the base personnel."

Mari nods. She knows that Anna's a typical local offended by a percieved lowbrowness among the Dornalian personnel. Nevermind the cultured types, or the sane persons, or the people who just wanted to travel. To Anna, they may well all have been "angels with dirty faces," so to speak, with thuggish manners.

She put on her own smile, and said, "Well now. No need to stereotype. He's but one of a kind, as I am one of a kind. The Marines and Army folk aren't all thugs...." She then smirked, and delivered a pointed statement directed at Anna herself.

"....but some of us just have a low tolerance for BS, especially from locals who think we're all country bumpkins and unintelligent thugs. Ya dig?"

Anna frowns disapprovingly. "I'd hardly call New Dornalia rural, and I certainly wouldn't call its citizens unintelligent. As for being thugs, well, what can I say? A lot of the soldiers here certainly act that way." She shrugs ambivalently. "In any case, I don't think one has to be impolite in order to be direct."

It's amazing to her how self-righteous Mari is, considering she's a guest in a foreign country. It's only right that she observe proper etiquette. Anna doesn't know whether she (and a number of others like her) has forgotten her place or whether Dornalian customs don't include gratitude for hospitality, but either way she doesn't like it.

Anna frowns disapprovingly. "I'd hardly call New Dornalia rural, and I certainly wouldn't call its citizens unintelligent. As for being thugs, well, what can I say? A lot of the soldiers here certainly act that way." She shrugs ambivalently. "In any case, I don't think one has to be impolite in order to be direct."

It's amazing to her how self-righteous Mari is, considering she's a guest in a foreign country. It's only right that she observe proper etiquette. Anna doesn't know whether she (and a number of others like her) has forgotten her place or whether Dornalian customs don't include gratitude for hospitality, but either way she doesn't like it.

Matt hears the tit for tat, and decides to end the stalemate before it explodes into something embarassing. He intersperses himself between the two women, saying, "Now now, ladies. No need to fight...." He then meekly says, "Let's all just have a pleasant meal, shall we? Besides, I think we have a case of simple cultural misunderstandings here..."

Glaring at Mari, Matt merely said, "...misunderstandings which clearly some of our officers did not resolve in Cultural Familiarization exercises. Now, let's settle down, now." Turning to Anna, he continued, "Besides, in my colleague's defense, the management is Dornalian, and they haven't imposed their will with a bayonet on your people or spat at them as inferiors. In fact, they're intolerant of trouble in general. So let's all quit making generalizations, both of you."

Mari shrugs and goes, "Okay." She has had her fill of Little Miss Perfect anyway.

Right on cue, the waitresses arrived with the plates of meat, and he said, "Especially as the food is here." With a simple lighter, the hibachi lit up with a WOOSH!, and the fun began.....

The female elf falls to the task of eating with zeal, tempered only by her usual impeccable manners. After a while, as her stomach begins to fill and the influence of the alcohol she drank earlier wanes, she revives her conversation with Matt. "I like your belt. Is it new?"

The female elf falls to the task of eating with zeal, tempered only by her usual impeccable manners. After a while, as her stomach begins to fill and the influence of the alcohol she drank earlier wanes, she revives her conversation with Matt. "I like your belt. Is it new?"

Likewise, the two Dornalians consume the Korean BBQ. Mari digs in; her origins in Los Angeles having given her ample training for this endeavour. As for her squadmate, she has to assist him and prevent him from eating the meal raw, for his traditions usually involve cooking food in the kitchen beforehand. Clumsily, the elf learns to manipulate the food, letting it sizzle on the hibachi before consumption. He enjoys it. Conspicuously, he avoids the kimchi, but he enjoys the other dishes.

Replying to the question, he smiles and goes, "Ja. It is new. I bought it at a wonderful tailors' shop the other day. It is quite exquisite, hey?"

Anna sat back, observing...waiting for an opportunity.

"The design is interesting. Ancient Earth, right?" Her eyes stray to Mari briefly, checking her reaction, before coming back to Matt.

"The design is interesting. Ancient Earth, right?" Her eyes stray to Mari briefly, checking her reaction, before coming back to Matt.

Matt leans in closer, with a smile. He goes, "Ja, schatzie," in a soft voice, eager to please a girl who was obviously enjoying his presence. "It is an old design, though admittedly I forgot where the tailor copied the design from. It is a shame. Though likely..."

He then yawns, and decides to try something he's seen on TV. He puts his arm around her, and says, "...it is from a region as beautiful as you are. Baden-Wittenburg."

Mari then sighed, and made the "crazy" motion around her temple. It was obvious she had heard all those cheesy lines before, and she was disappointed Matt would use them.

Anna readily accepts Matt's gesture, nuzzling his neck playfully. "You're sweet. Wherever it's from, it looks good on you."

She continues to ignore Mari, quite content to leave the grouchy catgirl out of the equation as much as possible. After all, she is here because of Matthias, not Marisol.

Anna readily accepts Matt's gesture, nuzzling his neck playfully. "You're sweet. Wherever it's from, it looks good on you."

She continues to ignore Mari, quite content to leave the grouchy catgirl out of the equation as much as possible. After all, she is here because of Matthias, not Marisol.

With a peck on the cheek straight from Hollywood's best, Matt sealed the deal and smiled. With a stroke, he said sweetly, confidence bursting and the surprise from a newbie at this sort of gig emerging, "Why thank you."

"Great. He's gone from wimp to man-slut," Mari thought. "Gimme a barf bag." The surly catgirl merely flagged down the waiter and said, "Two more shots of tequila. No, soju. And make it the nastiest, toughest soju you have." The waiter nodded, bringing it back. Upon recieving the stuff, she promptly downed one shot and saved another for the next embarassingly mushy moment.

Anna blushes and smiles again at Matt before going back to the food, spearing another piece of meat and holding it over the flame. He's coming along nicely; she had a feeling there was a romantic buried under that stilted fascade. No need to play it too easy now. Overhearing Mari's thoughts, she can't help a roguish grin. There's nothing wrong with showing a little affection. Matt is a long way from pole dancing to techno music in a seedy club. Still, the image of the dignified young man in a banana hammock makes her giggle despite herself. She eats the piece of pork she has been cooking to cover the reaction.

"So, Ms. Marisol," she says, in her most convincing nice voice, "what is your job at the base?"

Anna blushes and smiles again at Matt before going back to the food, spearing another piece of meat and holding it over the flame. He's coming along nicely; she had a feeling there was a romantic buried under that stilted fascade. No need to play it too easy now. Overhearing Mari's thoughts, she can't help a roguish grin. There's nothing wrong with showing a little affection. Matt is a long way from pole dancing to techno music in a seedy club. Still, the image of the dignified young man in a banana hammock makes her giggle despite herself. She eats the piece of pork she has been cooking to cover the reaction.

"So, Ms. Marisol," she says, in her most convincing nice voice, "what is your job at the base?"

Mari replied, tugging at her patches, "My job? I'm a Noncomissioned Officer."

After that, she sat up and said proudly, "I take the best equipment New Dornalia gives me on a daily basis, equip it, and then go and fight the enemy of the day with it along with my squad. It's not a bad job. The pay's okay, but what's good is that you can issue orders to squadmates and help take objectives that way. It's not as fun as you might think, but all command roles have a sort of responsibility to them." Sipping the soju again, she mutters "Though I have a better job than Matty. See, he's a Private Second Class. Somewhat high up in the bottom ranks, but still a buck private. I could boss him around if I wanted to, but he's not in my squad and I kinda have too much of a fondness for him to do so."

Matt chuckles, and says, "Thanks" with a smile. He's happy, because deep down inside, that's a pretty good compliment from the normally surly catgirl. To that, Mari said, "I aim to please." Turning to Anna, she asked, "What's your job?"

Anna grabs a mouthful of kimchi with her chopsticks and chews it while listening to Mari's answer. The corner of her mouth twists up in amusement as Mari describes her job. She swallows her food, skillfully maintaining a serious face as she responds. "Shinra is a dangerous place. I'm sure it must be a heavy responsibility; putting your squad's lives on the line every day as you do." It's not clear whether she's being playful or insulting.

She pauses briefly to let the joke sink in, then continues before Mari can make a comeback. "I work for the Labule design bureau at the Arferdal shipyards. I'm not a technical engineer, though; I mostly do layout. The Labule has been using the same basic hull designs for over a century, so more often than not I just figure out how to make everything fit. I come down to Shinra when there's a break in the work." Anna concludes by taking a drink of water, after which she smiles politely at Mari.

Anna grabs a mouthful of kimchi with her chopsticks and chews it while listening to Mari's answer. The corner of her mouth twists up in amusement as Mari describes her job. She swallows her food, skillfully maintaining a serious face as she responds. "Shinra is a dangerous place. I'm sure it must be a heavy responsibility; putting your squad's lives on the line every day as you do." It's not clear whether she's being playful or insulting.

She pauses briefly to let the joke sink in, then continues before Mari can make a comeback. "I work for the Labule design bureau at the Arferdal shipyards. I'm not a technical engineer, though; I mostly do layout. The Labule has been using the same basic hull designs for over a century, so more often than not I just figure out how to make everything fit. I come down to Shinra when there's a break in the work." Anna concludes by taking a drink of water, after which she smiles politely at Mari.

Mari shrugs. Anna seems to have a typical Shinraian civilian's disregard for the rigors of armed service. She says nothing, and thinks nothing of it. Besides, she knows her job is more serious than that hussy makes it to be, and she doesn't dignify her words on that subject. Not that Anna let her.

Upon hearing her job, Mari says smiling, "So basically, you're a draftswoman. You make technical drawngs for new ships. My sister does that."

"I see." Not really wanting to get into a conversation about the catgirl's family, she decides to leave the dialogue where it is and return her attentions to Matt, resting her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for treating me so nice," she murmers to him.

"I see." Not really wanting to get into a conversation about the catgirl's family, she decides to leave the dialogue where it is and return her attentions to Matt, resting her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for treating me so nice," she murmers to him.

It was really plain to see Matt enjoyed this attention, for he decided to increase the romance factor and give her hair a few gentle, loving strokes. He had seen it before in a few movies, and figured it must be worth something. Topping it off with another kiss, he said, "Well, thank you. I aim to please."

"And I aim to ensure you don't please her too much," Mari thought to herself. Snapping her fingers, she then asked the waitress, "More soju, please." The Waitress then noticed the two, and said disapprovingly, "Ma'am, please keep the Public Displays of Affection down. The others are watching."

Sure enough, on cue, other people turned to see what was the fuss, and at that Matt backed off, smiling and chuckling nervously. "Perhaps I was being a bit forward. My mistake."

"Nonsense," Anna says, giving him a playful shove. She doesn't seem bothered by the server. In fact, she doesn't even acknowledge her. "You're paying to be here, so why not enjoy yourself? Don't worry, though. We'll have more opportunities in the future."

She's a little miffed at their being interrupted, but it's no real matter. The evening has been a success so far. Even Mari seems to have lightened up a little. She grabs a wad of kimchi with her chopsticks and places it in her mouth, enjoying the tangy spice and musty flavor as she discreetly watches the catgirl with a thoughtful expression.

"Nonsense," Anna says, giving him a playful shove. She doesn't seem bothered by the server. In fact, she doesn't even acknowledge her. "You're paying to be here, so why not enjoy yourself? Don't worry, though. We'll have more opportunities in the future."

She's a little miffed at their being interrupted, but it's no real matter. The evening has been a success so far. Even Mari seems to have lightened up a little. She grabs a wad of kimchi with her chopsticks and places it in her mouth, enjoying the tangy spice and musty flavor as she discreetly watches the catgirl with a thoughtful expression.

The server, however does not consider her efforts a success. Miffed at the ignorance, she storms off, frowning at Anna with an expression of suspicion. Something tells her this is the kind of hussy that won't quit, and isn't inclined to listen to good sense. Fortunately, they seemed to have stopped sucking each other's faces in public, so she can at least leave with that.

Mari, meanwhile, knows she's being watched. Just as well. She's been observing Anna as well, and she's wised up to her game by now. It isn't worth it to force the point; besides, she can be tolerably charming sometimes. But Marisol also knows that camp followers like her are standard issue when army bases appear--soldiers bring fat paychecks, especially Dornalian soldiers, and it wouldn't be much of a stretch to assume Anna is only after Matt for said pay. Fortunately, she has said pay too, and is ready to haggle.

Eating her own bit of kimchi, she smiles as she sizes up her opponent.

Matt, meanwhile, nods at her last comment, blissfully unaware of such intentions--be they real or products of an overly defensive imagination. He merely replies with, raising his glass, "To the future, then, schatzie."

Anna laughs richly. "You're funny." She obligingly takes a drink of water, washing out the taste of the kimchi she had just swallowed.

It is not surprising that a woman of her character would be misjudged as nothing more than a golddigger. Though that, to be honest, isn't too far from the truth in practice, it's more about the total package than the nice things for Anaranë. She isn't chasing a dowry or an estate, she just likes having men. The way she sees it, she's doing them a service by sharing herself with them, so it's only right that they pay for things while they're together. To call her a hussy describes her perfectly, and its a label she'd be happy to bear were it not for the negative implications of the word. After all, in her mind there's nothing wrong with what she does. Her relationships are based on reciprocity, just like any relationship: she gives affection, companionship, and sex, and receives gifts in return. Some might call that prostitution, but she would take great offense at being accused of such a thing. A whore sells her body to whoever can pay, and often makes her living doing so. Anna chooses her men rather than letting them choose her, and she doesn't need their money. As far as she's concerned, her dates are no different than anyone else's.

Anna laughs richly. "You're funny." She obligingly takes a drink of water, washing out the taste of the kimchi she had just swallowed.

Matt simply, at that, laughed and downed his drink. Mari chuckled somewhat as well, at what looked like a parody of a scene straight out of Hollywood. All that was missing was a good makeup team and a skilled cameraman and lighting team to make the situation gushing with emotion. Though one had to admit, elves tended to bring that factor themselves, no matter what ethnicity they were.

Mari then rubbed her belly, and said with a smile to both, "That's a good meal, wouldn'tcha say? I mean, who knew such a little peninsula could offer such a good opportunity to pig out? I bet if Julius Caesar and his boys found Korea....they'd give up their local delicacies for this." At the word "this," she motioned to the platter of meats that, though diminished, was still formidable.

Matt chuckled. "What do you know of Caesar and the Romans? I thought all you knew was bossing people around?"

"Well, folks like Caesar pop up in leadership courses. I just happened to get curious, is all, and did a lot of reading on them recently." Mari nursed her glass, and then raised an eyebrow. "What, a gata can't study the classics?"

Matt waved his hands and said, temporarily stiffening up like old, "Nein, nein." He then returned to his looser self and said, "I merely point out that you aren't the most intellectual of us, usually. I'm the one who often does the reading here."

"Well, don't judge a book by its cover. Goes double for gatas." At that, Mari smiled and took another swig of soju. She had a feeling she'd make Matt drive the Royal Enfield tonight, since she was starting to get buzzed.

Anna often finds catpeople difficult to fathom. They seem fairly predictable, but some of them can surprise with their actions or abilities. Of course, there is a significant difference between the nekolani of Xanthal and the gentegatas of New Dornalia, so she hasn't quite made up her mind about Mari's kind yet. For their part, Xanthal's catpeople have mostly played the role of an independent but largely compliant minority since they first became a significant portion of the population during Old Xanthal's efforts to take them out of countries that exploited them centuries earlier.

The most famous catgirl in Xanthalian history is probably Nightshade Carrin, who led the Dominion of Xanthal for nearly fifty years. Though the most notable event of her reign was the tragic destruction of the Dracken Nebula, for which she could in no way be fairly blamed, she is generally acknowledged as one of Old Xanthal's more benevolent rulers, and is credited with restoring a sense of normalcy in the country following the days of the Empire and its often chaotic aftermath. She was also the last ruler to preside over Old Xanthal before what many modern historians agree was the beginning of its prolonged decline and eventual demise.

In a rare moment of uncertainty about what to say next, Anna fills the time by making a valiant final attack on the remaining kimchi. It would be a shame to see any more of such good food go to waste than need be.

Mari at that point took her chopsticks and decided to rush at the kimchi. Anna wasn't going to have it all, not when Mari had strength left and a little courage unleashed by the wanton consumption of liquor. Fortunately, there was still some left for both, and whatever Anna wasn't likely to finish Mari quickly gobbled down as genteely as possible. Well, as quickly as someone moving to consume kimchi before her erstwhile opponent could.

Anna's musings on catgirls had to be matched by Mari--or any Dornalians' for that matter. It is obvious Mari is a proud woman; just as well, since her people are legendary for pride and honor. Considering their society was and still is matriarchal in tone, it is no surprise. How it got to be that way is anyone's guess, though ask any old Queen or Chieftain of a gentegata family and they'd tell you the usual stories.

One story they would tell someone is of a woman different than Nightshade Carrin. Jacinta La Valienta--Jacinta the Bold--was a legendary warrior woman who led a decidedly more militant path than Carrin did. Beginning with simple tribal armies in Arizona, she went on to conquer most of Latin America, in a manner few have surpassed and that put her into a league including Napoleon and Alexander The Great. Such was the audacity and aggression of her conquests that to this day, if you go around South America and speak the name "Jacinta La Valienta," you will get sneers and death threats.

Ironic--considering many gatas were often used as POW Labor and forced labor for all sorts of purposes until MacIntyre came to power. Even to this day, Mari's people are a minority that is big, and has made strides in terms of acceptance. However, there is a while to go.

But back to our RP. Matt, in the midst of all this, shrugged and shook his head. Mari was doing it again. All this time, Mari said to Anna, snickering, "Race ya!"

Anna raises an eyebrow. Even if she wasn't concerned about looking like a pig, she considers such a contest beneath her dignity. Rather than repudiate Mari directly, however, she simply takes another wad of kimchi at her own pace, puts it in her mouth, then sets her chopsticks down on the table with a finality that seems to indicate she has finished eating, chewing the food slowly to enjoy the flavor. She doesn't say anything; it's rude to talk with one's mouth full.

Anna raises an eyebrow. Even if she wasn't concerned about looking like a pig, she considers such a contest beneath her dignity. Rather than repudiate Mari directly, however, she simply takes another wad of kimchi at her own pace, puts it in her mouth, then sets her chopsticks down on the table with a finality that seems to indicate she has finished eating, chewing the food slowly to enjoy the flavor. She doesn't say anything; it's rude to talk with one's mouth full.

Matt is also disenchanted with Mari's antics, and says simply, "You can stop now, you've won." He folded his arms and glared at his friend to prove the point.

At that, Mari sighed, taking the kimchi plate and eating it slowly and dignified--almost in a manner parodying Anna's, albeit in a crude, childish manner.

She doesn't get the point, but she knows that they're clearly hostile to what she though was an innocent eating contest/self-interested attempt to prevent Anna from taking all the kimchi. Finishing it, she then puts the plate to the side and coughs, proceeding to declare the Kimchi, "Fucking amazing."

"Are you happy now?" Matt says, distressed.

"Very. Now, let me enjoy my victory in peace." Miffed, she takes one of the last sparerib bits, grills it and eats it. Matt then replies to Anna, melting back into his super-suave-cool-guy mode, "I'm sorry about that, Fraulein. She is a crude person."

Mari mutters angrily, "I'm right here, missy." Matt stiffens--if its one thing he never enjoys, its a verbal assault on his manhood.