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[Spaceship Zero] Q-Ship (actually updated 19 May 2007)
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<blockquote data-quote="Capellan" data-source="post: 1140955" data-attributes="member: 6294"><p><strong>"Blast Off!" - Part 7</strong></p><p></p><p>Captain Fury is on his feet before anyone else can react.</p><p></p><p>"<em>You will <strong>not</strong> speak to her that way.</em>" his words are not loud, but they are spoken with such force that there is not a single person in the room who does not hear them. Fury stalks out from behind the table, hand resting lightly on the grip of his Atomic Pistol. That <em>could</em> be unintentional, but no-one fools themselves for a second that it is.</p><p></p><p>"Princess S'Ondra is a valuable and necessary member of the mission crew." The Captain speaks the words quietly, without the venom of a few moments below, but there is no doubt at the flint-hard conviction behind them. "You will give her the respect she deserves, fellow, or I shall have you removed."</p><p></p><p>"I am a member of the Press Corps!" the Venusian sputters, brandishing his plastic name badge, "I have a right to be here."</p><p></p><p>"As does the Princess." Fury answers, "Do not compromise your own rights by challenging hers. I suggest you sit down."</p><p></p><p>For a moment, the Venusian's eyes narrow, as he considers the human before him. Fury is an inch or so taller, but the Venusian is broader of build, with a barrel-like chest and stocky limbs. Then he looks into Fury's own eyes, and sees the steel within them.</p><p></p><p>With only a half-hearted mutter of resentment, the Venusian subsides into his chair. For a long moment, Fury continues to regard him. Then he lets his hand slip from the pistol by his side, and turns back to the shocked and silent journalists, a wide and pleasant smile on his face.</p><p></p><p>"Folks, it's been great to talk to you. Tom -" he singles out a dark-skinned vid-journo, "I haven't seen you down at the R-ball Courts in a while. Come down for a game, or you'll be getting flabby."</p><p></p><p>Tom waves off this remark, and pats his steel-hard torso, but Fury has already moved on, greeting people by name, slapping shoulders and asking about children. The ugly confrontation of a moment before slips from people's minds.</p><p></p><p>Most people's, anyway. S'Ondra sits at the table, imperiously ignoring the continued glare of the Venusian journalist, who is alone in not receiving any of Fury's bonhomie. For a moment, as she regards the Captain, her face softens. But then Fury reaches Sarah-Jane Parker, and while the kiss he gives her cheek is perfectly chaste, the placement of his hands as he does so is anything but. S'Ondra's mask of cold indifference slams back into place, and she tosses her head angrily, before rising to her feet and walking to the exit.</p><p></p><p>Somehow, Fury makes it to the door before her, holding it open so she can pass through. He gives her a melodramatic half-bow as he does so, lips still quirking with that boyish grin he does so well. S'Ondra stops.</p><p></p><p>"Thank you for your assistance, Captain." Her words are a polite formality; a Princess thanking a servant who has been useful. "It was most appreciated."</p><p></p><p>"For you Princess, anything." The words come in a tone of complete sincerity, but there is a smudge of lipstick near the Captain's ear. S'Ondra keeps her eyes on that, as she coldly nods an acknowledgement, before sweeping out of the room.</p><p></p><p>Fury, touching the point where he saw her looking, smears the red cosmetic across his fingertips.</p><p></p><p>"Damnation." he mutters, then shrugs and plucks out a handkerchief to wipe them clean. By the time he turns back to the room, his best smouldering look is back in place. "Miss Parker! I'm really looking forward to that interview you mentioned. Would dinner next Saturday night be a suitable time? There's a new French restaurant just opened on Gagarin Street. I was thinking about giving it a try, but it's such a bore to go alone. Perhaps you'd like to keep me company?"</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Capellan, post: 1140955, member: 6294"] [b]"Blast Off!" - Part 7[/b] Captain Fury is on his feet before anyone else can react. "[I]You will [b]not[/b] speak to her that way.[/I]" his words are not loud, but they are spoken with such force that there is not a single person in the room who does not hear them. Fury stalks out from behind the table, hand resting lightly on the grip of his Atomic Pistol. That [I]could[/I] be unintentional, but no-one fools themselves for a second that it is. "Princess S'Ondra is a valuable and necessary member of the mission crew." The Captain speaks the words quietly, without the venom of a few moments below, but there is no doubt at the flint-hard conviction behind them. "You will give her the respect she deserves, fellow, or I shall have you removed." "I am a member of the Press Corps!" the Venusian sputters, brandishing his plastic name badge, "I have a right to be here." "As does the Princess." Fury answers, "Do not compromise your own rights by challenging hers. I suggest you sit down." For a moment, the Venusian's eyes narrow, as he considers the human before him. Fury is an inch or so taller, but the Venusian is broader of build, with a barrel-like chest and stocky limbs. Then he looks into Fury's own eyes, and sees the steel within them. With only a half-hearted mutter of resentment, the Venusian subsides into his chair. For a long moment, Fury continues to regard him. Then he lets his hand slip from the pistol by his side, and turns back to the shocked and silent journalists, a wide and pleasant smile on his face. "Folks, it's been great to talk to you. Tom -" he singles out a dark-skinned vid-journo, "I haven't seen you down at the R-ball Courts in a while. Come down for a game, or you'll be getting flabby." Tom waves off this remark, and pats his steel-hard torso, but Fury has already moved on, greeting people by name, slapping shoulders and asking about children. The ugly confrontation of a moment before slips from people's minds. Most people's, anyway. S'Ondra sits at the table, imperiously ignoring the continued glare of the Venusian journalist, who is alone in not receiving any of Fury's bonhomie. For a moment, as she regards the Captain, her face softens. But then Fury reaches Sarah-Jane Parker, and while the kiss he gives her cheek is perfectly chaste, the placement of his hands as he does so is anything but. S'Ondra's mask of cold indifference slams back into place, and she tosses her head angrily, before rising to her feet and walking to the exit. Somehow, Fury makes it to the door before her, holding it open so she can pass through. He gives her a melodramatic half-bow as he does so, lips still quirking with that boyish grin he does so well. S'Ondra stops. "Thank you for your assistance, Captain." Her words are a polite formality; a Princess thanking a servant who has been useful. "It was most appreciated." "For you Princess, anything." The words come in a tone of complete sincerity, but there is a smudge of lipstick near the Captain's ear. S'Ondra keeps her eyes on that, as she coldly nods an acknowledgement, before sweeping out of the room. Fury, touching the point where he saw her looking, smears the red cosmetic across his fingertips. "Damnation." he mutters, then shrugs and plucks out a handkerchief to wipe them clean. By the time he turns back to the room, his best smouldering look is back in place. "Miss Parker! I'm really looking forward to that interview you mentioned. Would dinner next Saturday night be a suitable time? There's a new French restaurant just opened on Gagarin Street. I was thinking about giving it a try, but it's such a bore to go alone. Perhaps you'd like to keep me company?" [/QUOTE]
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