(no subject)
Perhaps a vague almost-request for any sort of company directed to nowhere in particular was not the best idea I have ever come up with. Thanks to said desperation, I have now met and become host to, eh, what was it that he was called--ah, yes; Quickstrike. Hm. Technically, he's Quickstrike the Second, but I make it a point to never bring up anything even fleetingly passable for historical lineage unless specifically forced to. No extraneous teaching was necessary for me to realize that early on in life.
This...partnership may not be the best choice that I have made, either. I've done my research, and I know his record--he's one of those happily indiscriminate headhunters, the kind not even other headhunters like. Lovely. I am sharing my ship with a mech of a duel facade nature who would gladly hunt me down and cheerily sell me off restrained in whatever happened to be available to whoever would be willing to pay anything of monetary value for my--by that time--strutless, wreck-of-a-frame carcass. Did I really sound that desperate? More importantly, was I really that desperate?
...
...I'm probably better off not knowing the answer to that.
In any case, I guess I had better break out the nice serving trays tonight...I've found that dessert is a good way to keep everyone from killing each other, especially appropriately nice dessert. Which reminds me; concerning Eddie, on our first date, I'll cook dinner. That strategy, after all, is the most endearing--not to mention the most enduring--impression one can make in the pursuit of romance.
Soon, Eddie...very soon...