[The last time she addressed the network, Bela was in a sorry state: drunk, fed-up and angry at the world. Now, she's much more calm and composed, but with an expression that suggests that she means business.]

I'm looking to do a little trading with those who have what I need.

[A pause to emphasise how important this was.]

The list is as follows:

Hair conditioner, moisturiser, toothpaste..well, any kind of toiletries really. Something a bit more upmarket than what we get here.

Trivial as those may be, if I'm going to be on board and without access to a shopping district, I think I could stand to have a few luxuries for myself.

[Another pause.] Oh, and ammunition for my pistol.

Contact me here or privately and I'll tell you what I have to offer.

[Seems like just yesterday that you were seeing this guy's face on the network. Maybe because you did, except this isn't the prince who was offering sword fighting lessons. Far from it on so many accounts.]

I'm afraid I'm worthless for sword training or fight club, but I'm still willing to spill a few drops of blood.

[Which sounds a little strange coming from a guy who goes out of his way to be about as threatening as a golden retriever pup.]

Body art - tattooing, specifically. I've done a few people on the ship, and wouldn't mind doing a few more if it's the sort of thing that interests you. My colours are limited, but that's about all that really is. Everything else is safe and sanitary.

[Because even on a ship of rats and monsters, hepatitis is a thing. Noah pauses, a slight grimace before he continues.]

If you're not eighteen, I'd suggest you wait until you are. Or at least lie to me, you might just win me over. Especially if there's a few hundred years or miles between me and your parents.

[After a moment's fiddling where muted swearing can be heard but precious little seen the feed flicks on to display one terribly bored looking tanned elf. Between the set of his jaw and the twist of his lips the displeasure he's been feeling for the last however long is quite visible, though he does his best to put on a charming smile for the ship.]

I know when we arrive on this very fine vessel we are given, without our consent, a mark for purposes in keeping tally of who is on the ship, translation, so on and so forth. And while it is a nicely done tattoo it is not precisely to my taste, mm?

[He turns his cheek to the camera, tracing a line up the black curves marked up from jaw to temple.]

These now, I like a great deal more and it makes me wonder if there is anyone else that would rather regain just a little bit of themselves by choosing a tattoo of their own design and placement to make up for what was graciously given without asking. I've skill and experience in the art and would be willing to lend my services to anyone interested.

My supplies at the moment are somewhat limited but depending upon what you would like done I am certain we could come to some sort of arrangement.

[Please. Someone. Anyone. It'll be something to do, some sort of project, something to focus on and while his expression is not quite pleading it is eager for some manner conversation centered around something he can understand for once.]

[ sup, tranquility. attractive blond on the network today (nothing new). dressed in a tank-top, hair pulled back in a short tail, he looks tired and a little stressed, but somehow still very.. charming?

he huffs when he realizes the feed's begun, rubbing a hand over his face. ] Okay, so I practiced this shit in the mirror, but-- [ he groans, hand dropping away, frowning a little. ] Basically, there's no amount of goddamn practice that can prepare you for outing yourself on what equates to national tv or whatever. ... Fuck. Okay. I'm not the weirdest thing on this ship, so no big deal, right?

[ he mutters something else under his breath, then sits up. ] --Look, it's like this, right? Hi. I'm Finch. I have a seriously specific diet that I'm gonna' need some help with. [ a fidget, rubbing at the nape of his neck, gaze sliding away briefly. ] .. Fuck, I can't believe I'm doing this shit, this is ridiculous. I'm-- uh. Where I'm from, I'm called an incubus. I eat sex energy, and yes, fuck, I know how sleazy it sounds, you don't have to point that shit out, I live it every goddamn day. [ obviously, he's accustomed to jackasses, and will handle other jackasses accordingly.

he pauses for a moment, softening his glare carefully. ] .. Point is, I try to eat at least four times a week to keep myself from turning into what basically amounts to a monster that doesn't give a shit whether you want it or not, and there's only.. what, three-hundred people on this tub? So it's not like I can just feed and move on, you know? [ he looks a little embarrassed, mouth thinning. ] .. I need to know if there are people who'd be willing to be dinner-- regularly.

[ a pause, realizing that sounds, well, pretty negative, before brightening a little, sitting up. ] There are benefits! Seriously, I mean, I'm an incubus. I can personally guarantee it'll be the best fuck you've ever had, and a normal night's sleep should be enough to fix you, and, like, I don't even need you to be human or anything. As long as you can feel pleasure, I can figure out how to give it to you. Also, it doesn't matter how kinky you are, either, you know?

[ another pause, blowing his bangs out of his eyes, head tilting. ] .. Anyway, yeah, that's it. It'd be great if I got some volunteers like, asap. It's been three days and I'm fucking starving. [ he lifts his hand in a little wave. ] Thanks!

[ and the feed ends. y e p. ]


[ ooc; permissions post! ]

[ Wichita is not. a happy. camper. and it's very obvious by her tone, the fact that this is a voice transmission instead of a video and the fact that she hasn't left the bar since she got there earlier today.

in fact, a note to all you Space Babylon regulars, the doors to the bar have been locked ( by her ) and there's no music coming from inside it either. just normal, boring silence. on the transmission, you can probably hear the slosh of booze inside of a near empty bottle ( it was nearly empty when she got here, mind. some of the bottles stopped refilling themselves each jump. isn't that great? ) and the smack of her lips once she finishes her sip before she starts talking ]

To everyone that was fr- that knew Brian Kinney, crew member 006 » 033, I've got some bad news. Or good news, if you're an optimist, which I'm not. He went home last jump. Went to sleep here, woke up not-here.

Which I guess puts me in charge of the bar.

[ hence the doors being locked and the general 'fuck off' vibe of the place ]

Are there any bartenders on board that wouldn't mind working for free? 'Work' is a loose term, I mostly just sit around drinking with people whenever I'm here. Or if anybody wants to.. be here regularly and help make sure it doesn't turn into a crapfest, let me know. Assholes need not apply. [ because nobody will ever be a better asshole than Brian. ..wait, ew. she takes another sip, and only cuts herself off when she hears the tell-tale 'whoa whoa whoa!' of her mini Wall-E bumping into something in the near-dark. ]

Did your light go out again, bud? [ the one she fashioned onto his front in case the power went ut again. or, in the case, when Wichita decides she can't deal with colored strobe lights guiding the little cleaning bot's path ] Here, c'mere- [ aaaand the feed cuts ]