Adrift on the Galactic Sea

[Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs]

**Note: This is an open-ended, multi-location thread for the 'in-between' stuff between Ibaris and Liam. Effects of other threads and transitions between one thread and the next are only some of the things that could be explored, here.**

Location: Jovan Station
Timeframe: Leading into this (http://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?56220-Decoding-Girl-Talk), this (http://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?56226-Cocoa), and this (http://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?56717-Disinfection-(Ibaris)) thread.

She sat in the co-pilot's chair, having just cleared the Peregrine for dock while the pilot took care of the docking itself, with her watching how he did it. Her thoughts had been straying towards learning to do this whole thing, this piloting thing herself for a good while, ever since the last time she'd gotten more than frustrated with him; her hand was stayed by the years, the knowledge that it would be harder to do without him, and dare she think it, by having become used to him being around to the point that being in this ship alone had somehow become less of a consideration. Well, not entirely alone. There was always Adas, as much as talking to the barkspawn made her feel that she was sometimes talking to herself, no matter how intelligent he seemed. She breathed a long sigh, as if the act of docking was causing her to deflate the moment the process was complete.

"Ah..."

He'd been pretty tight-lipped about whatever it was he had to do that was taking him away from helping with resupply, and other odds and ends that could only been taken care of in dock, which put a burr on her backside with not knowing and with having to do it all without him to assist with the work. He never did this, never, but the annoyance aside, she was gladly anticipating a few days free of most interruptions to her self-directed work... and he bought her ignorance of his motives with a bribe of baked goods. In the face of that, she lost most of her will to argue, most of the self-serving care over his whereabouts. Yes, the goods were that good.

"...remember," she said, tone cool and even, "four days. Four. The field work isn't going to do itself."

The only person it seemed urgent to was her. Ibaris lifted herself out of the seat, and began to stretch. She had been sitting for too, too long, resulting in finding herself looking forward to stretching her legs around the station.

[Liam Quez]

Ibaris was easily tempted and it didn’t take much nowadays. Liam had been around the young woman for what felt like most of his life. Their meeting was simple, she needed a pilot that wouldn’t piss himself and he was exactly that. Though she tried really hard to make him do that, but he had an iron will...a beskar will…if you will. The ship finished its docking sequence and from the corner of his eye he watched her stand up. Ever since that time, he always watched her. Not in some creepy guy in the corner stalker sort of way, but in a protective sense.

He yawned as well, her constant reminders were wearing on him, but that was Ibaris. Liam assumed she thought he had more muscle than brain, but where that may have been true - his memory was pretty sharp. “I know I know, I won’t be long.” He stood as well and stretched, it was nice being back in port it had felt like forever. A finger rubbed his eye as he looked at the girl next to him. “I know you’re a princess and all, but it's not going to kill you to do the resupply. I do it all the time.” Grinning, he knew she helped from time to time, but the bigger stuff he handled especially ship specific things.

“Anyways, we should stick around a little bit in port just to get some ground under our feet. Also having this grounding gives us a good opportunity to get back into a training routine.” He moved himself from where the pilot’s chair was and headed towards the sleeping quarters to change clothing. “You've been slacking off, I can tell" Looking over his shoulder he grinned and proceeded to laugh.

[Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs]

You've been slacking off...

She held her position, legs straight, palms flat on the floor, face tucked in towards herself and thus not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the reaction in her face as every impulse to react worked through her head. Those words pushed a button, a sensitive one that made her mind flit between reminding him that she didn't need to be near him to hurt him, hurting him, and yelling. After a few more moments, when the strain of her bend had built to be intolerable, she unfolded, his laughter echoing in her ears. She sported the faintest frown, her mouth nearly a line, and when she spoke again she refrained from looking towards the sleeping quarters out of propriety, irritation, and the knowledge that a visual of his bare torso would have the effect of moderate erosion on her present chilly mood, while making her more irritated. She sighed heavily, and rubbed her temples, her ire beginning to dissipate.

"My studies take precedence, you know that," she said, hands falling away from her head, "and I can't..." her eyes fixed on the hatch at the back of the ship, "...look, give me three days," as she made concessions, "and we'll stay in port for a week. Will that do?"

She hoped it did, as she rearranged her mental schedule to account for it, laying a hand on Adas' head as he came alongside her. The hardest part had been her attempts at this give and take, when all she'd taken him on for was his ability to fly a ship, and ended up with a person with thoughts, feelings, needs, and ideas... even if his ideas were highly questionable in nature.

[Liam Quez]

Liam dug through his clothing and searched for the pair of pants and the shirt he wanted, grabbing both of them he wiggled his pants on and let them hang on his hips. The undershirt took priority as he stepped out of the room for a moment to catch the end of what she had to say. It was hard to hear her sometimes, especially when they were some distance away. The Mandalorian made a mental note to get his ears checked while they were in port. One could only take so many loud noises and smacks to the head before damage was permanent.

The white tank top scrunched at his biceps as he paused before pulling it over his head. The multiple hours of being in the training room showing quite nicely in his frame. Pondering what she had said he stood there and nodded. The shirt finally being pulled over his head and down his torso he buckled his pants. “I’m sorry Princess, I know you like to read and all that stuff. I just want to…” He paused and struggled with the buckle for a few moments and then gave up. “Kark...I uh - I just want you to be safe - especially if something happens.” Now that his mind could focus he began to fumble with the buckle again.

Looking up, he didn’t want to seem like he was a moron so he continued to talk. “3 days? To resupply or to finish some studying so you can resupply and actually get back to training?” That boyish grin spread across his face as he continued to struggle - this time with a grunt. “Uh a week in Port - you gonna let me take you out for once?” Knowing that this wasn't probably going to go well for him he tensed his body quickly. He knew too well that she didn't need to be near him to hurt him, he kept that memory quite fresh in his mind. Deep down he was scared of her, but with the jokes and the like he did his best to keep that from being a fact. Though, if he was scared of her - that meant that she'd be okay if something ever happened to him or her parents. She just had her own way of surviving and that made everything okay - sometimes.

[Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs]

Hazel eyes finally made their way over to him when he began to fumble his words, while fiddling with the belt. Her stare a blank one at first, non-committal as she listened to what he had to say, brow showing a faint crease when her personal safety became a subject, lips sporting a light bit of grim at his what if. She wasn't certain what to think of it initially, and her gaze drifted away to the hatch when the fiddling started up once more as her psyche chewed on what he said. Wasn't that what the dearth of shooting lessons she'd received as a child were for? Not to mention the training he accused her of slacking on? She opened her mouth, but it no sooner shut when his began to spill words again. She frowned, grimaced, at being cut off despite that he couldn't have known. When his mouth closed and noise ceased to come from it, her eyes had already shot over to him at the mention of his taking her out. She saw him tense, and knew she had caused that involuntary flinch.

Am I really that bad...?

A thought she didn't dwell on, "Don't make me change my mind, Liam," as she gave her response to his queries, with some terseness that she tried to water down as more words came out, "I asked you if a week would be enough, for... whatever it is you need to do, resupply, and getting our training back on track, in addition to my continuing studies. If you think it could be done with less time, then please, say so," and attempted a smile that came out a little forced, "and I will better endeavour to take your input into account, as... as my friend."

[Liam Quez]

Liam continued to work with what he was doing. The belt and his pants weren’t cooperating and made him feel somewhat silly. The small button continued to slip through his fingers, this was a common issue with the pair of pants he had chosen to wear. He was going to be meeting up with his sister, someone he hadn’t seen in some time face to face. The boy wanted to look good, show that he was doing well for himself. The last thing he wanted or needed was to either be teased for looking like space poodoo or be worried about. Frowning he gave up for the moment and listened to what Ibaris had to say.

She tried her best and he knew it, but a friend was a good step in the right yet wrong direction. Friend zoned meant death. Shaking that thought off he pondered what she had said. “A week is fine, it works honestly. Though if things finish up faster I’ll let you know and we’ll be out of port as soon as possible.” Time was limited so he went back to work fumbling with his pants. Liam held his breath and he strained and focused on the button – for once he wished he had the force. A thick vein began to protrude from his forehead as he focused and then eventually gave up. Shoulders slumped and he sighed softly.

Ibaris Varanin was all he had left.

“Princess.” He started out and paused mostly out of embarrassment. A hand covered his face and he sighed softly once more. “Can you help me? The button is too small and my hands are too big” The hand pulled away from his frowning face as he squeezed the air in front of him in an attempt to express how big his hands were. The older boy moved slowly towards her and met her half way for the most part. A cheesy grin spread across his face as he tried to laugh the embarrassment away. “Pleeeeeease, the fate of the port weighs on your shoulders. No one wants to see me pants less.”

[Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs]

Princess: it was because of the doings of her parents and their blood-given catchings that the nickname had been left alone, left to stick. He wasn't wrong, whether he knew it or not; he didn't, and that was fine. There was some satisfaction to be found in the infrequent moments of his embarrassment, for he seemed to have little else in the way of restraint unless it had been bought by fear. She knew he was afraid of her, and she knew why. It wasn't something she was proud of, but it served a purpose once the anger at herself for doing so had passed, and it kept him at a comfortable distance.

At least until he began making somehow not-unreasonable requests.

"Liam..." the tone of warning started in her voice, but was just as quickly dashed by a hard breath of frustration, a hand raking through her hair, "...alright," she stepped towards him, "there seems to be no way around it," tugging at the waist of his trouses to bring the two sides together, "I'll take care of it this time, but you'll have to learn to better manipulate with your fingers," and she had it; getting the button done, she stepped back, looking up at his face on which she refused to have an opinion, and putting her hands on her hips, "I can't do up your trousers for you for the rest of your life, and... I'm not touching the zipper, or the belt."

She was far from blind to the connotations of fiddling with such things.