Chapter Text
It’s four fifty-five on Friday and Beatrice is where she always is; sitting at her desk with a ledger in front of her, dutifully checking The Director’s schedule for the next week for any holes or double-bookings that may have occurred. She’s using her favorite quill, the tall gold one that matches the gleaming pumps slipped onto her feet, and through the day her neatly styled curls have grown larger and fluffier thanks to the odd humidity that’s been hanging around her desk all day. But it’s almost the weekend. Five more minutes and she’s free for two blessed days, free to do mud masks and read and potentially go down planetside to go shopping. She’s almost there.
Three throats clear at once, as if they meant to do it in unison but each just missed the cue. She looks up to the men seated with her in the lobby, raising an eyebrow.
“The Director will be out for you soon, I’m sure,” she says apologetically, absently waving the end of her quill about. “You know how performance reviews are, they can go a bit long sometimes.” She smiles and shrugs and returns to the spreadsheet before her, crossing things out here, making notes there, doing her best to make sure the week ahead goes as smoothly as possible.
She’s just gotten to Friday when there’s a loud crash, drawing her attention to the far right side of the room. The largest of the three men stands as if expecting a fight, the one in the flirty lavender skirt slips behind him, and the dwarf looks over coolly as if nothing really shocks him anymore. The entrance door to the lobby has slammed open, and something fast and furry and about the size of a small child comes racing in. It gets to the center of the room before skidding a bit, changing directions, and leaping right for the desk. Bea shrieks and slides out of her chair onto the ground, and at the very same moment one of the large guards from the launch bay comes lumbering in. He’s got a look of pure concentration on his face, though if she recognizes him correctly - Chungus or something - he’s always got that look on his face.
There’s a chase and a scuffle that results in the tragic loss of three potted plants and Bea’s favorite wall sconce. Every time Chungus nearly has the...whatever it is, the little furry things slips out of his hands and dashes in a new direction. They crash and careen about, sending all other occupants of the room dashing to stay out of their way. After four frenzied minutes their chase takes them outside, the lobby door slamming behind them.
The big one of the trio, Magnus something, has a look of utter delight in his eyes. “Was that a dog?”
Bea doesn’t answer. She’s already grabbed her purse and ran for the door; five o’clock is five o’clock, after all.
-
The Bawdy Barbarian is the most popular tavern on the Lunar Base, which isn’t a hard distinction to earn when you’re the only tavern on the Lunar Base. The bar seems to be broken down into a number of categories that everyone can be organized into: you’ve got the family folks who are just sharing a drink or two with friends before they head down to terra firma for the weekend, and the residents who are getting trashed before taking the parties back to their dorms for the night. You’ve got the people with the “exciting” jobs like regulators and reclaimers, and those of them with the normal, quiet professions, like the maintenance crew and the IT group.
You’ve got those of them that are fans of the reclaimers, and those of them with anything ranging from a vague sort of irritation to outright hatred, for some reason or another.
Bea always ends up sitting with the latter group. She’s got no horse in the race either way, but Natalie is the closest friend she has here on base, and until Merle Highchurch learns to fill a proper requisition form, here they sit. They’ve gathered a pretty nice group for the evening; John and Ash from the marketing team have joined them, John discussing some exciting new outreach program as Ash doodles ideas for a new company logo on napkins and scatters them across the table. Mikey from the archive sits to Natalie’s left, opining her stagnant love life as Natalie hums, nods, and nurses her gin and tonic. It’s a pretty calm group, though they have to shout a bit to be heard over the general din of the crowd.
“Bea, what about this one?” Ash calls, sliding a napkin across the table.
She picks it up, turning it this way and that before sliding it back over. “It’s nice, but the Director won’t go for it,” she calls back. “She likes sharp angles, it’s a little soft.”
Ash nods, going back to his sketches with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.
“Speaking of sharp angles, I’m going to kill one of the reclaimers,” Natalie mutters, close enough to her friend that she doesn’t have to yell. “I was trying to get that wizard, Taako, to sign off on a form, right? The bastard changes the paperwork to a fashion magazine while it’s still in my hands. Yesterday I go up to ask him about it and he literally Blinks out of the physical plane of existence. Just to get away from me.”
Bea giggles, pulling the fancy umbrella out of her drink and sticking it in her hair. “That’s crazy. I saw him today as they came in for their performance review, his lipgloss was absolutely on. Point.”
The eyeroll that earns her from Natalie is one of the top ten eyerolls she’s ever received in her life. It doesn’t hurt that Natalie’s obsidian-dark hair and sharp features make her look like she was born to roll her eyes at people wasting her time. She’s very good at it. “You’re ridiculous. There are more important things in the world than lipgloss.”
“Yeah, like shoes and glitter,” Mikey teases.
Bea sniffs, waving a lofty hand. “Glitter is very important, okay?”
“Glitter is very important,’ Ash agrees from a design standpoint, John nodding eagerly next to them.
Natalie doesn’t hear them. Instead she’s got a look on her face that says she has a terrible, wonderful, no good very bad plan, and she can’t wait to get it off her chest. “Beatrice.”
“Yes.”
“Remember those peep-toes I got last Candlenights, the ones I never wear?”
Bea nods, a look of utmost respect on her face at the mere thought of the shoes. “The sling-back wedges with the houndstooth print? Of course I do.”
Natalie smirks, leaning in. “You get this form I need signed by Taako, and I’ll give them to you.”
The table goes silent. Bea lifts a hand to her chest and covers her pounding heart as half the bar goes quiet, as if they suspect something momentous is happening nearby. “You’ve got a deal.”
Not too far away on the other side of the bar, the Pro-TaakoMerleMagnus side, Jackie sits with Dottie, their heads low as they get lost in whispered conversation.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time in the library,” Dottie murmurs, shaking her glass of scotch and watching the ice clink around. “You got a thing for that halfling?”
Jackie coughs so hard her cheeks turn pink, dropping her water and groaning as it spills across the table. She grabs a stack of napkins, quickly working the mop it up. “No. No! I don’t. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Why would you even...do YOU have a crush on the halfling that works in the archives whose name is Mikey? I mean that’s a very suspicious question Dot maybe I just like to read.” As soon as the name leaves her lips her head swings around frantically, making sure she hasn’t been overheard.
There’s a burst of laughter as Jackie shakes her head. “Why don’t you just say something?”
“We’re just friends,” Jackie shoots back testily. “Besides, she probably doesn’t even know my name yet.”
“Hi Jackie! Jackie! Hi!”
They both look up to see Mikey standing at the far side of the bar, eagerly waving. Dottie looks to Jackie, a self-righteous smirk twisting her reptilian face. “Yeah, she has absolutely no idea who you are.”
As the exchanges continue at around the room a balding wizard makes his way to the bar, sighing and slumping into a stool. Cudgel looks up from the glass he’s polishing, tilting his to the side. This is the glass he always polishes to look busy; the rest of the glasses are perfectly clean, he just knows a proper bartender sits and polishes. “Something wrong, Mosby?”
Jameth Mosby sighs, ordering a shot of Everclear. “Just another day, Cudgel. Just another day.”