PNPC CPO Kiran Rork - Grubling

[LuxaLorana]

Love these sims with Work, really building up for an adventure on Ferenginar. I know it's not easy writing two of your own characters in one sim but @Marty Tucker is able to make them seem like distinct and true characters! Can't wait to see what happens next! 

 

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((The Squid & Dagger, just outside the commerce district, Frengenar))

 

The bar itself was empty save Kiran Rork and Brac. It was Brac’s bar, and on an average night, this place would be packed, one of the more off-the-beaten-path bars in Frengenar. And Brac liked it that way. They’d likely call it a ‘dive’ bar on Earth.

 

Rork was dressed in a suit that Brac had provided. It was an all-black number, with a tie included. The only color anywhere on the suit was the gold-pressed Latinum cufflinks. He tugged at the jacket's cuff, making sure it fits. Of course, it did; leave it to Brac to tailor it from memory. 

 

It was unsettling not to hear the spin of the dabo wheel or the sounds of drunken patrons trying to rise above the terrible local Klingon jazz fusion band. Not tonight; not even the voles were around, not that there were to begin with, at least that’s what Brac would tell you.

 

Kiran: Do you realize how much frakking latinum you lose by not opening the doors? Especially with a Starfleet ship in orbit?

 

Brac waved him off with annoyance as he went behind the bar to look for something; Rork couldn’t tell.

 

Brac: If I score in this tournament, I won’t need this hole in the wall.

 

Rork didn’t like the sound of that. After Brac quit being a freighter captain, he used some of his life's profit to open the bar. This was only the third time Rork had been inside the bar proper. He’d met Brac outside, once at the entrance and once in the back alley.

 

Kiran: That’s a mighty big if, my friend. 

 

Brac paid him no mind as he rummaged through the bar, looking for something, though Kiran wasn’t quite sure what it was. Whatever it was, he found it and thrust his arm into the air in victory. From what Rork could tell, it was a Bajoran phaser.

 

Brac tossed it to him. 

 

Kiran:: catching the phaser and looking it over:: What in the hell am I going to need this for? Not to mention, there is nowhere where the suit would hide the blasted thing. I’ve got party favors in my bag and on my person. ::he smiled wickedly::

 

Brac: You’re the muscle anyway; I’m the high roller.

 

Rork rolled his eyes,

 

Kiran: Sure, I get to be the stiff…

 

Brac laughed at him, all of his teeth showing. 

 

This wasn’t the first time the Bajorans had to play the ‘muscle’ in one of Brac’s schemes. There was this time on Rigel when they were there for another Tongo Tournament; of course, Rork was the muscle. They ended up ruining a perfect suit. They barely got out with their heads attached to their bodies. That was his last job before joining Starfleet.

 

Brac adjusted his suit and picked up a silver briefcase, now handcuffed to his right wrist. He looked the part, wearing Ferengi high fashion and presumably several bars of gold-pressed latinum in the case itself.

 

Kiran rechecked his pockets; in the right pocket was a Bajoran combadge. In the left pocket was his Starfleet comm badge, though the more he thought about it, the more he should leave it behind. But if you need it, it would come in handy. He took it out of his pocket and slipped it into his sock. They wouldn’t check there, he hoped.

 

Rork trusted Brac as far as he could bowl him, and it’s always been that way. Sure, they’d worked together, and Brac read him up on street smarts. The Bajoran had a head for tactics, but that was being in the resistance even though he wasn’t very old then. He was also now pretty decent at planning jobs. At least he knew what he could do after Starfleet if there were an after.

 

Brac: You ready, grubling?

 

Kiran: I wish you’d stop calling me that; it wasn’t funny then, and it isn’t now.

 

Brac: Whatever……grubling.

 

The two stepped out into the rain and went to the public transporter. They waited their turn, garnering some stares from the onlookers. When it was their turn, they stepped on the transporter pad and shimmered away in the blue light.

TBC

 

-------

Chief Petty Officer Kiran Rork

Engineering

USS Ronin - NCC-34523

D240008MT1

 

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