round 13 CRUELLA: Waning light, hunger games

[Telice Shagan]

(( USS Discovery-C, The Eagle's Roost))

:: The Raskorian entered the bar, the delicious one. He was dressed well in

attire which matched his fine feathers. The bird-like gait seemed to indicate

confidence, although this well could have been anthropomorphizing the avian a

bit. ::

:: For a while longer, Cruella gazed hungrily at Doctor Aven. The lights in the

bar were now several lumens brighter than she liked. Against this modest

brilliance she was now armed with sunglasses. These were, unfortunately,

enabling her new habit. It was a bad one - tasting people with her eyes. From

the shadowy screen behind the bar with her eyes guarded by dark lenses Cruella

watched the patrons more avidly than would have made them comfortable. She

wanted his blood most of all. ::

oO Doctor Aven Morning-song the Raskorian. oO

:: Fortunately few thought of her new accessory as anything more than another

symptom of her photosensitivity. ::

:: Cruella was hoping that the Discovery's smallest doctor would come sit at the

bar. Maybe he would want to "check up" on her recovery? ::

:: Instead Aven went directly towards the coolest cat in the joint. The

Raskorian bobbed up to Nickels as though he were the most approachable soul in

the moodily-lit mess hall [...] lounge. ::

oO [...]y thing. Oo

:: She was at first furious at the slight. After forceful moments of reflection,

Cruella realized she was not doing Aven justice. She had entirely neglected her

hostess duties. There was more to keeping such a social job than waiting to be

approached. As the amiable avian attempted a conversation with the morose

mobster mook from Security, Cruella subtly began to approach the pair. ::

:: She was wearing fancy clothes of her own. Although attached to her customary

habit, she had felt the need for something new, some changes. No longer in

bulky, shapeless shrouds with a hood and cowl, she wore a conservative dress

extending to the floor. It was cut a bit closer than her Sister's habit,

although not remotely indecent. It had long sleeves which she had tucked into

the cuffs of dark gloves. A vivid red guimpe of crushed velvet further protected

her neck and shoulders, while her head was concealed (apart from her face and

the suggestion of impressive ears) by a layered velvet scarf of impenetrable

darkness. The sunglasses made her look a bit like an aged movie star whom had

escaped the silver screen to serve drinks. ::

Nickels: response

Aven: ::resisting the urge to run a medical scan to determine the level of

Nickels intoxication.:: The color scheme is all mine however the design is from

a file sent to me by an anonymous friend.

Nickels: response

Aven: What are you drinking Mr Nickels?

Nickels: response

Aven: Whiskey? A distilled alcoholic beverage made from fermented grain mash if

I remember correctly. ::shuddering:: Well each to his own I suppose. I prefer

the nectar of flowers myself.

:: Cruella was near enough now to observe the fledgling conversation. She could

pick up on the words. However, the contrast between the light and entreating

mood of Aven and the dark demeanor of Nickels was dizzying - had she been

reading them intently it might have been staggering. As it was, she still picked

up on a seething, old wound Nickels was attempting unsucessfully to sterilize

with ethanol. ::

:: She politely inserted herself between them, concerned that the handsome

Iotian Security officer might say something more brash. ::

CRUELLA: Would I be presumptuous in bringing you some fresh nectar now, good

doctor? ::The Reman woman smiled, her teeth in two regular rows. She then spoke

to whomever might overhear in the vicinity, her voice a triumphant clarion.::

You know, I declare Doctor Aven saved my life, I believe. ::once more addressing

the two:: Not that I expect a repeat performance of the Medical Arts will be

necessary. oO Move on, move off from it. Fight the hunger. Oo

NICKELS: (response)

CRUELLA: ::businesslike tempo:: Very well then, sir. A double for the Ensign

with a pair of friends to make sure he reaches home in good company. oO Dean

Martin would could do little better. Oo ::She turned to face the Raskorian,

between the two of them she was feeling an intriguing kind of heat. Her blood

quickened just slightly, and licked her full lips involuntarily.:: And any

particular nectar for the dapper Doctor? ::She forcibly comported herself, but

the Raskorian body radiated more heat than the common Terran -- though perhaps

she was merely indulging in a hematophage's fantasy.::

AVEN: (response)

:: Cruella nodded in reponse, made to procure the orders, but was interrupted by

a faintly slurred speech from the indigo-eyed Iotian. ::

NICKELS: (response)

:: She had, in fact, noticed. But some vague intuition, a feeling Nickels might

have been sending desparately to any whom could read, this caused her a tricky

thought. She fully intended to provoke the usually charming, if a bit oily, man.

Some part of Nickels fought against *something* for his rank and all it meant to

him. ::

:: Uncharacteristically forward, Cruella sat on Nickels' lap - the sprawl which

he had going defied physics to explain how he remained in seat, but left an open

field for any temptresses. The way the Reman vampire cradled his young neck with

one hand as her other turned his dress collar just so to catch the candle light

was borderline menacing. ::

oO Odd. I feel as though I should be on a harpsicord- No. A piano. Reclining on

a piano, talking- no, not talking. Singing. Oo

:: Even in a non-vampire, her elaborate show of inspection would have been

considered predatory in anyone as old as she was. She looked at the new half-pip

decorating Nickels' neck. Her guilty eyes, hidden from most behind shades,

darted up to meet his infra-blue eyes and their rye-induced shine. His shiny

pips reflected in her black lenses, the lenses reflected back complete with

miniscule pips in Nickels' eyes. ::

CRUELLA: ::playful, dusky tone:: Lookee here, the man has returned from

disgrace.

:: His warmth was intoxicating; she delicately lowered her hand from Nickels'

neck to the fabric stretched between his shoulders. ::

NICKELS: (response, if any)

CRUELLA: Though I am just a working girl, I'd say the rank suits you, Lieutenant

Nickels. ::She stood up, straightening her clothes with one hand, still hooked

to Nickels' collar with the other.:: But junior grade under-rates you. ::She

turned from Nickels, dragging the man slightly as she addressed the innocent

bystander, Doctor Aven.:: ::in challenge:: Whaddaya say, Doc? What's the word on

this ..specimen? Is he fit to serve or should we throw him back?

AVEN: (response)

oO Yes, I should stop tormenting the two of them. Oo

CRUELLA: ::much more in her usual music style:: Coming right up, gentelmen.

Don't stop the part on account of my absence. ::winkinging at the two of them::

If you're still here I'll top you off on my next round.

AVEN/NICKELS: (response)

:: With that she resumed her usual manner. ::

:: No stranger to influencing the minds of others, Cruella sensed she had made a

favorable impression on the silently brooding Nickels. She was less sure of

Aven's take on her little display. Perhaps he would be jealous in some obscure

manner? Perhaps he would worry after her state of health and well-being? Or

maybe he would simply be disgusted. ::

oO Digusted I know backwards and forwards. Oh, if only... I should so like to

dive right into the thick of them and read away. Maybe add a few thoughts. Just

a couple, innocent ones. Oo

:: In a short while she brought them beverages. Content to to stir the pot once

in a while, remaining a mild-mannered barkeep the rest of her shift. ::

Sister Cruella (PNPC)

Bartender

The Eagle's Roost

as simmed by

Lt.Cmdr. Inarr "Steve" Rogg d'Squamos

Chief Engineering Officer

USS Discovery-C