A
Apocaric
Guest
Original poster
Kirsi Radmirovna spread her hand on the table. Her remaining opponent, a woman who'd introduced herself as Irian, was smug about her full house - tens over aces. Unfortunately for her, however, Kirsi was a much better cheater. "Straight flush, spades. I do believe you owe me the codes to that fancy ship you've been bragging on all night," she said, grinning.
Kirsi got up, stretched, and collected the rest of her winnings. She'd netted almost three thousands credits tonight from the poor fools who hadn't figured out yet that she could count cards, plus a nifty handgun and a matching holster. She figured that'd be useful in the event that she needed to defend herself - and she almost certainly would, being only 155 centimeters tall and looking about 45 kilos*. Looking, because she actually weighed nearly twice that. It came with being a GI. Not that she wanted anybody to know that, mind, and the gun would help her keep from being outed. The credits were stuffed carelessly into her pockets - she could neat 'em up later - and she pulled the holster into place under her shoulder, frowning as she discovered that it didn't tighten down quite small enough for her.
"I think you said Heaven's Grace was at slip E-41, right, Irian? I'll meet you there in twenty minutes. Don't try and steal my ship, or I won't be happy with you."
With that, she turned and sashayed out of the bar, giving her hips that extra little swing to distract the men in the bar - and a few of the women - from the fact that she really shouldn't be walking straight after the amount of alcohol she'd drank during the poker game. Of course, if she was lucky, nobody else would have been keeping track.
+++++++
Nineteen minutes and thirty-one seconds later, she was in landing slip E-41, waiting impatiently at the bottom of the ship's ramp for Irian to show up. To be fair, the woman still had twenty-nine - er, twenty-eight - seconds...and didn't have an internal clock...but, dammit, the least she could do is be punctual!
*(About 5'1" and 100 lbs.)
Kirsi got up, stretched, and collected the rest of her winnings. She'd netted almost three thousands credits tonight from the poor fools who hadn't figured out yet that she could count cards, plus a nifty handgun and a matching holster. She figured that'd be useful in the event that she needed to defend herself - and she almost certainly would, being only 155 centimeters tall and looking about 45 kilos*. Looking, because she actually weighed nearly twice that. It came with being a GI. Not that she wanted anybody to know that, mind, and the gun would help her keep from being outed. The credits were stuffed carelessly into her pockets - she could neat 'em up later - and she pulled the holster into place under her shoulder, frowning as she discovered that it didn't tighten down quite small enough for her.
"I think you said Heaven's Grace was at slip E-41, right, Irian? I'll meet you there in twenty minutes. Don't try and steal my ship, or I won't be happy with you."
With that, she turned and sashayed out of the bar, giving her hips that extra little swing to distract the men in the bar - and a few of the women - from the fact that she really shouldn't be walking straight after the amount of alcohol she'd drank during the poker game. Of course, if she was lucky, nobody else would have been keeping track.
+++++++
Nineteen minutes and thirty-one seconds later, she was in landing slip E-41, waiting impatiently at the bottom of the ship's ramp for Irian to show up. To be fair, the woman still had twenty-nine - er, twenty-eight - seconds...and didn't have an internal clock...but, dammit, the least she could do is be punctual!
*(About 5'1" and 100 lbs.)