I'm in complete agreement with Wolf, and very curious to learn just what rebooting means to each of you. It's more than a little exciting to consider new characters and settings, not to mention plot lines. I'm really keen to listen to all of your ideas.

I'm also interested in whether a hiatus should still be on the agenda. We can discuss that possibility and how it might work best for you as well. (I was telling Wolf that I've got a ton of bits for my characters on Pelorum, and could likely fill a hiatus period just for fun, should we decide to undertake one.)

I'll be traveling with Mrs. Sail on Friday the 14th, but if I ply her dinner and drinks she's likely to grant permission for my joining a get together.

Sail

Happy Sunday from the cargo bay!

It sure looks like Cap'n and the doc are on the outs right now...in the middle of the 'verse's most romantic getaway location. Funny how things can go all squirrely like that. But, the rest of us are on shore leave, if we're of a mind to take it. Of course, with Alana gone, don't seem like a single one of us got fun on the brain at the current moment...

Just a reminder that Pelorum is a wide open episode. You can either tag onto the one or two plots we'll float, or break completely away to write your character's own adventure. If your personal plot includes Yuri, Abby, or Edina, send me a wave and I'll be glad to join you.

We recently asked your opinions regarding the future of FF2V. The exercise proved not only enlightening, but also rewarding. Of the options offered, you were all most interested to keep flying, with a few reboots and tweaks. Some followup convos revealed that reboots were largely character oriented. While I'm aware of one or two character/position changes in the works, I have to say it was fortunate news that many of China Doll's crew will remain aboard. Yes, I love Abby Travis, even though vocalizing her speech and narrations is slowly wrecking my grammatical writing skill.

The option for a hiatus also received sufficient upvotes to warrant some discussion. We're keenly interested in what that would mean to each of you. I've got a couple of notions to run by you as well.

Wolf had recently tried to corral us into a live chat or a Discord voice chat to discuss where we'd like to take the three winning approaches. I think getting us all together is an excellent idea. When I return from my current goofing off (first beach trip of the year), we'll ping each of you for the right day/time/format.

On a personal note, my takeaways from our discussion were really quite poignant. The fact that every one of you voiced the desire for us to remain together was a mighty tug on my heart strings. I couldn't agree more. It's such a privilege to be part of a group whose talents leave me both envious and entertained with each post. Your characters live and breathe through your words, and frequently leave me uttering "I wish I'd written that." Add to that the friendships we've formed along the way, the celebrations of each other's lives and the support for our struggles that flow so freely among us, and it becomes apparent that FF2V has grown into more than the sum of its' parts.

Thank you all for making China Doll fly. Your love is definitely keeping this old boat in the air.

WWIF,

sail

Happy Monday from the cargo bay!

This week we made some major strides in our group chat on Discord--thank you to Bugman and Xan for joining us! As a result of that meeting, we've come up with a document to peruse and float plot ideas for the current
or upcoming episodes! Please feel free to take a look at the plot ideas we have down and jump into an open plot that looks like fun, or come up with your own for us to jump into! The idea behind this document is for visibility not only into the overarching plot for the episode that Sail and I come up with, but also for subplots to get to stretch their legs. I'll post the Google doc in our Google chatroom.

Bear in mind that nothing in the Gdoc is carved in stone. It's a living document through and through, and each of you have edit privileges. Feel free to offer your alternatives or to suggest changes to what you see there.

So I told you I would summarize some of the things I heard from the four of us chatting together, and here I am to make good on that:
1. We LIKE JP/Collabs because it fits in with the very character-based plot movement in the TV show, Firefly, and we like it because it feels easier than running solo posts.
2. We do not prefer solo posting per se, given the character interactivity of the original source material, not to mention the limitations and repetition of life in the black. Be that as it may, we welcome and encourage any solo posts for your character. If you've got a story to tell, your character has thoughts to think, or even if you wish to share the daily grind, we're delighted to read and respond, if you wish. I'm planning some solo work for Cal, Lyen, and SAM while we're here on Pelorum. At the rate Abby's going, someone will need to either bail her out or drag her back to the boat!
3. We would like to see some interconnectedness among the crew; maybe some back story from one character relates to another, and pieces of the puzzle will coalesce as we keep telling our tale. This is a bit of homework for Sail and me, but feel free to add your two-cents at any stage.
4. We need to make room for characters to take their time in the limelight in some episodes dedicated to them. We heard a bit from Bugman and Xan about how their CS pointed them in the direction of some arcs
they'd like to realize.
5. We're going to be pushing forward with our current crew and massage things into place with a time jump of two months. We should use the plot document linked in the Google Chatroom to float some ideas of how crew interacted with each other in the two month interim to establish some familiarity or background. Sail has an idea to help facilitate this called a 'caper.' More to come on this.

And that's the long and short of it! I'm posting this in our OOC, Discord (because why not), and in the Google Chatroom so we'll stumble over it in one place or another. Thank you again for making time to plot with us on your Friday night!

For now, we're playing out episode five: Shore Leave, until the end of day three. We have a crew-wide JP slated at the end, but feel free to jump into plots set forth in the doc.

Keep flying,
Wolf & Sail

Happy Sunday from some bar on Pelorum!

Looks like Abby's taken up with the sorta folk we're sure her Uncle Bob warned her about...and is having a howling good time! Edina and Yuri acted all responsible and got the boat paid, along with an invite to a swanky soiree at Earth-That-Was Museum. And finally, Lyen and Sam are holding down the fort while Cal heads out to look for a new mule...and mayhaps a spot of trouble.

Just to keep us on the same page, we're on Day 1 of the crew's official Shore Leave. Characters are free to craft their own adventures, or if they'd rather have company, they're welcome to join in on any of the existing plotlines. A little bird told us there's at least one more Day 1 post on the way, so we're holding the clock til it arrives. If you've got a Day 1 post brewing, let us know and we'll keep the door open.

Speaking of, you all received the "FF2V Plots & Ideas" link, both in our group chat and your personal channels and emails. You'll find a rundown of the plots and subplots we're aware of, and who you should contact if you'd like to engage. You all received edit credentials, and we, your humble hosts, encourage you to share your thoughts and ideas as we move forward.

We had a departure this week. After a months long battle with the cursed Writer's Block and other issues shared in our group chat, @PatientBean has chosen to move on. Bean's a gifted writer, and we wish them all the best going forward.

But the challenge they faced is something that plagues all of us from time to time. My last writer's block was a ferocious bout that struck in mid 2020. Wolf rescued me through a series of 1x1 scenario RP's in Gdocs that finally had me back on track in 2021. If you follow our group chat, it's no news that Wolf and I both extend that same offer to any of our group who find themselves stymied. So please feel free to reach out if we can do something to make your writing experience more enjoyable.

WWIF,

sail

Happy Sunday from the cargo bay!

As you're aware, Wolf and I are both spending this Sunday near Paris. (He's in France; I'm in Texas.)

With our travel schedules in mind, we're taking our time with Shore Leave for China Doll's crew. Official ship time is Day 2 evening. We'll get to see Edina and Yuri cut a rug at the Museum shindig...it's in my head. Now I just have to write it.

The Day 3 evening shenanigans JP is off and running! If you don't already have adventures in store for your characters' final night of shore leave, feel free to come aboard! Everyone's got the link, but I can supply if you need. NOTE: As I think the episode climax happens Day 3 night as well, we promise to have everyone back in plenty of time to join in.

I've learned a bit during this episode. Abby has been pretty much out of her comfort zone the entire time. Having the rambunctious Lorraine take her under wing has offered me interesting reflections on the character. I've always known her to carry damage, as well as social and educational gaps, but getting the chance to look at her through Lorraine's eyes is revelatory. Character growth is one of the great joys I take away from RPG. Abby's struggle to find her place in the 'verse is thought provoking fun, and I'm grateful to all of your for both input and leeway.

You've all seen the ideas we have for the next episode. I think that once Wolf and I are back on our respective home fronts we should all get together to put some flesh on those bones. In the meantime, I hope the rest of your weekend is great!

WWIF,

sail

Happy Sunday from the cargo bay!

Been a minute since I dropped a Sunday OOC. My personal 'verse got a little active there, but I'm seeing clear skies ahead and will try to keep up with my end of the bargain.

The little pirate robbery thingy is posted. Rumor has it that we'll be seeing the episode climax any time now. In the meantime, if you've got misadventures to write for the final night of shore leave, have at it! I'm think of one-two little notions for characters myself...unless, of course, you need any of my folk to play supporting roles for your ideas.

So, in about a week I'm being hacked on by surgeons. Rumor has it that I might feel sort of sluggish for a few days afterward, but we'll see about that. I'm not planning any big absences, though I'm betting I'll be conked out for one day at least. But have no fear. Wolf can steer! He's put together a plan and everything.

Finally Happy Birthday to our youngest crew! Xandrya's little boy Alex celebrates this coming week with a single candle on his cake.

WWIF,

sail

Happy Saturday from the cargo bay!

I know it's been quite a while since your humble mods have updated the game's trajectory, but it's finally time for Episode 5 to come to a close and for our motley crew to head into Episode 6!

Thank you all for staying tuned and for sticking with us as we head into an exciting episode with our brand new pilot, Boone! Shortly, we'll get a closing statement for Episode 5 up in IC as well as an intro post for Episode 6!

This last couple months have seen our chief mod, Sail, out of commission for a bit due to medical and lots of real life. All of your well-wishes have been appreciated as he re-acclimates to life as a cyborg.

Check back soon for closing and intro posts launching the China Doll into Episode 6.

WWIF,

Wolf

Happy Sunday from the cargo bay!

Here we go, kids. Thanksgiving and the holiday season is breathing down our collective necks. For Casa Sail that means that I'm foisting my cooking upon family and friends once more...a process that probably takes far longer then it should, given my inability to find items like mixing bowls and seasonings. There is an organizational scheme to our kitchen; Yours Truly hasn't bothered to learn it.

So, in case your character hasn't heard, Cap'n's called a crew meeting in the galley to introduce our new pilot and talk business. Since returning from a whiskey soaked adventure on the high seas I've managed to get Abby and Edina into the rooom, with plans for Yuri to follow up and join shortly. Feel free to put your char. into the galley!

I've also penned a rough draft for the next History Lesson. If you're looking for the basics, I'm pulling alot from the Firefly Serenity database timeline. Note that I am shifting a couple dates here and there to suit our narrative, but for the most part we're following along.

On the cyborg front, I've got more of my schedule back. The surgery and resulting rounds of PT went really well, so they cut me loose in time to go on a punk rock cruise. (Important note: passing through a metal detector is a whole new experience with a hunk of titanium inside one's body. More on that later.)

Once we've completed the Boone meet and greet, we're likely to have a time jump. Wolf and I are hashing out the particulars and will keep you posted. In the meantime, have a great Thanksgiving, love your people, and eat all the wrong things!

Also, WWIF.

sail

Happy Thursday from the cargo bay, gang!

Can I start by saying that I am utterly thankful for the chance to write and share story with each of you talented writers? This corner of the world has given me such pleasure as we've wound this tale across the 'Verse. To that end, Sail and I have an announcement to make.

For the past couple years we've created a tradition over the holiday season for all the writers who take part in the game. We all know how the holidays can be a big slowdown for writing, and especially so for those with busy schedules, both work and play. There are others, though (looking at you Sail, and at myself in the mirror) who want to fill those chilly nights with even more stories and character interactions. As Sail said two years ago (I can't say it any better), rather than seek out a 12 step meeting, Sail and I thought to open up the OOC thread for an AU HOLIDAY!

Here's what we mean:

For the unfamiliar, AU= Alternate Universe.

From now through Sunday, 1/7/24, all members are welcome to write AU Firefly tales here in OOC. These stories can involve your existing characters, or others you may wish to try on. Any time period is fine, so long as you're inside the Firefly 'verse. If you want to team up for 1x1 or small group RPG, go for it...with the understanding that we have a hard stop the night of 1/7.

Except for those caveats, you're free to tell whatever stories you like! (I'll add that explicit content is best left in your Gdocs.)

The plot for FF2V will continue uninterrupted during this time, which means we'll still be writing Boone's intro JP and beyond.

So have fun this holiday season! Feel free to explore new character arcs for existing characters, completely new characters, or situations of your own design! Your humble hosts wish all the joys of the season to you and your loved ones!

Happy Holidays,

Sail & Wolf

Thanks, Wolf. Another reason why this is one of my favorite times of the year!

I'm going to start by resurrecting an AU I had running in '21. I didn't get to finish that one before the hard stop. Aside from that I've got ideas for all 3 chars. I'm running.

Work permitting, I'll have something up tonight.

Season's Greetings!

Sail

OOC: Part 1 of a holiday themed AU that I started in 2021. With your kind permission, I’ll finish it this time around.

Another day on China Doll. Another toilet tah clean.

Abby sprayed in tha solution, goin’ all ‘round tha underside of tha rim. Then she hit it with her brush, scrubbin’ an’ diggin at ever’ spot til the bowl’s all shiny. Once that part’s done she grabbed a fresh paper roll from her cart an’ slipped it inta place. ‘Cept fer makin’ a pass with the mop, she declared “One down, two tah go.”

Second stall was a rinse and repeat. She’d jest dropped on her knees in the third when ‘er hip vibrated. Abby pulled the little reader from ‘er back pocket.

New Message from Thomas Jinks. (Image attached.)

She thumbed the link. The screen glowed with both his words an’ the pic he shared.

Come back to New Melbourne. The glamorous life awaits.

Pitcher was a closeup of Thomas, grinnin’ all crooked as blood an’ fish guts was drippin’ down his face. If she’s any judge, looked like the Jinks kids got up tah tha devil while they’s cleanin’ their catch. Abby held her capture up so’s tah git a proper shot ‘o’ her scrubbin’ the toilet, a big smirk on ‘er face fer tha cam’ra. Then, she typed a message right back at him.

And give up all this?

Thomas musta liked that’n, ‘cuz he didn’t waste no time.

Darling Crabby, my Princess of Poop.

The deckhand giggled an’ banged out a reply. That’s Queen of Commodes, to you. Don’t you have work to do?

Next message from Thomas come with an audio file attachment. My brothers say you’re right. Give this song a listen. I heard it and thought of you. She took a minute, cleanin’ out the last toilet afore she stood up. Showers was next. Easy peasy, ‘cuz they both mopped up jest like the tiled deck. Abby fished the buds outta her pocket. With her mop an’ bucket at tha ready, she pressed “play.”

“And cut!” Edgar’s voice rang across the soundstage. Morgan knew at once that the director considered this take to be The one. He was so polite that one needed to listen carefully for his tells. Unlike Joss, if Edgar wasn’t satisfied with a take, his call to cut scene came in the form of a dubious question. Hearing “Cut?” was her signal to approach him for a quick consult before cameras rolled again.

She could see him, laughing and chatting with the head ciinematographer. Edgar was happy. Today was a wrap for shooting in Studio A, but she had work to do. Morgan laid the ear buds on the prop table before donning her mask. “All good?” she asked the guest director.

“Splendid,” his eyes sparkled above his mask. “Tomorrow’s the day. How do you feel?”

“Terrified.”

He dismissed her worries with a “bah” and a hand upon her shoulder. “You killed it in blocking, Morgan. Repeat that, and tomorrow shall be a very short day. Get some rest tonight, alright?”

“I’ve got a table read in thirty,” she replied. “Then it’ll be ‘trailer, sweet trailer’ until Makeup at five AM.”

“As the lord intended,” Edgar chuckled as he flagged down his Floor Manager. “Miles, let’s prep for B-roll.”

“Right away,” the serious young man keyed his shoulder mic. “That’s a wrap, people!” his voice echoed through the studio. “Anybody who isn’t a gaffer should clear the set. One hour dinner break for everyone shooting B-roll tonight. Check your departmental sheets for tomorrow’s call times. And remember, everybody,” he paused as the entire cast and crew shouted his nightly farewell message back to him.

“GET HOME SAFE, COME BACK SOBER!!!”

Thirty minutes til table read. Enough time to wolf down her dinner salad and get to the rehearsal room. Morgan hurried to the craft services table to find her meal all packaged in a clear plastic container. Romaine lettuce, cucumbers, and vinaigrette, was inscribed on the lid. A small bag of almonds had been taped on as well. Amelia never forgot. She’d just collected a water bottle when a voice came from behind.

“Cal Junior, I presume?”

Even behind the slight muffle of his mask, that voice was unmistakable. Morgan turned, her eyes widening at the proof of her ears. “Why…hey…wow, Mr. Fi…”

“It’s Nathan,” he offered a friendly elbow bump. “And I’m the one who should be starstruck. I just wanted to tell you how much I love what you’re doing with Abby.”

“Oh,” Morgan expelled a breath that seemed to deflate her. “I love her so much. She’s a joy to play…but sometimes I think she’s starting to take over. I catch myself speaking ‘Firefly’ and slipping into her twang at places like Starbuck’s,” she laughed nervously.

“Shiny!” Nathan’s smile was self evident through his mask. “Happens to me all the time. I catch myself channeling Mal during little moments…like contract negotiations,” he shrugged. “So, “you all set for tomorrow?”

“No…yes…I don’t know,” Morgan shook her head. “Doing both parts in two single takes? I mean..it feels good in rehearsal, but when I think about tomorrow? She clutched her stomach. “Butterflies for days.”

“Hmm,” Nathan shrugged. “That’s not what Summer says at all.”

“Really?”

“Really.” In the distance rose the high pitched whine of electric motors. The gaffers had wheeled out their lifts, and were now headed up to refocus the lighting. “She and I had dinner last night. Now Summer’s always a pretty positive type, but for the life of me, I couldn’t get her to shut up about your rehearsals. Believe me, I tried..even offered to pay her. That was a joke.”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan tilted her head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” But she wasn’t. Not a bit.

Nathan dipped hands into his pockets. “You’ve worked with Summer going on three weeks…long enough to know each other’s moves and to have fun with it. Fun…that’s the key,” he said. “Alan and I brought Edgar in for tomorrow’s scene because he can capture the detail and draw that fun out. Tomorrow? Summer and Edgar are gonna have a great time. I’d suggest to you that you’ve put in the hard work. Tomorrow’s the fun part…but Abby already knows that.”

Morgan smiled as her eyes met his. “She does, doesn’t she?” The studio clock flashed, catching her attention. “Oh,” she scooped up her things. “Sorry, I’ve got a table read in fifteen.”

He nodded. “Right, you and Val for ‘The Great Drawl-Off.’ Joss was worried it’d come off comical, so he’s liable to be stressed. Don’t mind him, okay?”

“I won’t. He doesn’t bother me.”

“Have things been alright between you?”

“Listen,” Morgan spoke frankly. “I’ve worked with so many indy directors who make Joss on his worst day look like an angry kitten. I can handle some needling. Besides,” she looked about the soundstage with it’s numerous shooting sets. “He brought this to life. And you…”

“And you,” Nathan interjected. “There’s not a person involved here who doesn’t love what we’re doing. That ‘verse,” he pointed toward the set as lights flashed and moved in the gaffers’ hands, “started in Joss’ head, but every one of us has helped it along. You and the China Doll crew own it every bit as much as Serenity’s crew does.” He cast a wistful eye over the darkened galley set. “There’s a lot of love in these places. Do me a favor, Morgan,” his smile resurfaced beneath the mask. Enjoy this.”

“I will…I do.”

“And don’t forget,” Nathan lifted an index finger. “Christmas party tomorrow night after we wrap. Jewel and Sean are coming. There may be caroling, but I didn’t say that…now, you’d better run. Tell Val I said “Haaaagh.”

“Okay,” Morgan chuckled, “and do me a favor? Don’t tell Joss I called him an ‘angry kitten?”

“No promises.”

Wiping off the remaining table, Katya had all patrons but that one in the lavatory out of the premises. He’d been kind enough to advise he would be quick with his business. In drunk speak, one could say there was plenty of freedom as to the meaning behind that statement. Katya flipped the rag over her shoulder to start lifting some chairs onto each table. Once more, the glamors of her newly-acquired barkeep gig left her to question why she had agreed to take over for her father. Given his old age, he was soon to be out of the business permanently and enjoy his senior years, but her no-good brother wouldn’t take over the business if he was to receive double the pay. He was too busy running scams and wasting his body away. ”You lost that job, might as well cover mine," her father would say in an attempt to convince her, and he was right. Katya would do anything to keep getting an income. Well, almost anything.

“Is that Grady boy hiding in here?” She heard from behind as something might solid was pressed against the back of her head. Of course. Her brother, Luka “Grady” Voss, had brought his troubles to the family once more. Katya slowly put the chair down with her back to the stranger still.

“He ain’t here tonight, might try him at home.”

“He wasn’t there either.”

Well then your luck’s up. Katya imagined breaking the neck of an empty beer bottle as she spun around and swung it at the man's neck, slicing it open in one clean swipe, blood cascading down to stain his clothing beyond saving. The desperate choking sounds as his knees buckled from his weight proving too heavy were satisfaction enough for Katya to walk off without a second glance.

"I—I don't know his whereabouts. We don't often see each other..."

Katya was terrified. She didn't know what her brother had done to this rival of his, but it mustn't have been good. Suddenly, Katya picked up on faint footsteps approaching, which meant this predicament she was in was about to get a whole lot worse or slightly better.

“Ah washed tha sink fah yah, ma’am…oh,” the bar’s last patron said mildly as he was brought up short by the scene before him. There stood the woman...Katya, if he’d heard her name correctly over the earlier noise of a busy night at Shindigs. She was icily still, her face pale with fright. She’d been working to close, a towel draped over one shoulder, until a pistol had nuzzled its’ way into the hair on the back of her head.

Dorian eyed the gun. It was a cannon, typically freakish behemoth of a weapon chosen by those who thought such a sideshow piece would add to a dwindling street cred. A big gun to make a big noise. As he sized up the weapon and the man who brandished it, he felt fairly certain that it was loaded with hollow point slugs that had never entered the chamber.

“Get out,” the intruder hissed, his gaze held upon the contrasting colors of his victim’s hair. He was thirtyish, a few years younger than Dorian himself. Cheap suit, scuffed shoes, and a two day stubble were sufficient tells to complete a base assessment. Here was a low level footsoldier in somebody’s organization. Not a bright enough spark to rise through the ranks. Doomed to be a hanger-on, never to be welcomed to the family itself. “I said ‘Get out!” His gaze had turned, but the weapon hadn’t.

Dorian took a breath, meeting the command with a shrug. “Ah’d do that,” he drawled, “but fah one or two little things. That’s mah hat on tha bar,” he nodded, “and that drink next to it is paid fah.” The man’s eyes followed, flicking left toward the broad brimmed hat and the double shot of bourbon sitting alongside. An instant later, his nervous gaze returned to find the business end of a nickel plated revolver just inches from the bridge of his nose.

“Now then,” Dorian spoke with the ease of a man accustomed to sipping juleps on his back porch, “what say we dispense with these unpleasantries and let this poor woman go home?”

<Open Tag>

“I ain’t wanting her,” both his arms came up in surrender, palm and thumb securing the pistol in a loose grip with no signs of the pointer on that trigger. A sudden, smug expression for show to likely conceal his racing heart as he stepped back and away. “All for ya friend, she’s lookin’ like a fine lay,” he winked, and that’s the last that was heard from him as he concealed the weapon and turned on his heel to leave without causing further mayhem. Katya finally let out a sigh of relief, using the chairback to lean on as she gathered her thoughts. Where would she even begin to thank her customer?

“I apologize about that, he came looking for my brother…clearly not the saint of the family.” She watched him put away his own revolver too, eyeing the weapon until was out of sight. “Don’t know how to thank you enough,” Katya gazed down at her hands, the trembling dwindling down, “but your next drink is on me. Least I can do for you scaring away that ruffian.”

One warm smile later, and she motioned for him to follow her. Katya had led him back to his seat as she walked around behind the counter. “I can make you another one of what you’re having or I can make you a special one strong enough to have you forget a couple of faces by morning time.” She disappeared momentarily as she leaned down to reach for a clean glass. “What will it be?”

“Any day you don’t pull your pistol is a good day.” As he watched the man retreat through the double doors, Dorian mused, “not a good day…but not a bad one, either.” He returned his own weapon to its’ cross draw holster, an economical gesture bearing none of the flourish enjoyed by some of his counterparts. Though still flustered by her ordeal, the bartender paid a keen eye as his gun tucked into black leather. “Yah don’t owe me a thing, ma’am,” he offered a pleasant smile, “though Ah nevah turn down a drink with good company.”

The next moment found him once again at the bar, nudging his stool forward to prop a casual elbow upon the worn edge. “Ah presume,” he answered her earlier question, “that yah’ve got a fav’rite cocktail? Yah signature drink? It’d be mah honah tah lift a glass with yah…Katya, is it?” The newcomer extended his hand. “By tha way, Ah’m Dorian. Dorian Adler.”

The sound of steel scraping cement pealed from the back room, training the eyes and ears of Katya and Dorian on the entrance of a slightly ajar, wooden door squeaking on barrel hinges. The white knuckles of a large hand pulled the door open to reveal a man dressed in a striped button down shirt, suspenders, brown slacks, and an askew emerald green bow tie, complemented by a bushy red mustache beneath chiseled blue eyes. As he stepped into the bar proper, those eyes were focused on Katya, finger pointing as he approached at an even pace.

"You did good, sis," an errant hand smoothed the long hair at his crown against the shaved sides of his head. "Those boys won't be back 'til morning," his approach halted as he palmed a fifth of vodka, unscrewing the cap, "and I've got a plan." The bottle upended into his lips as his eyes landed on the stranger sitting at the bar.

Exhaling, he asked Katya with a glance, "And who's this?" a free hand rested on his belt buckle, replete with a Ruger Wrangler replica hanging at his side. The stranger had a face that was hard to read, but something about his eyes unsettled Grady. Katya on the other hand, looked primed and ready to give another lecture a-la-padre. He lifted the bottle to his lips again to numb the overture.

Katya placed the empty glass on the counter between them two. She reached for his hand for a friendly shake, noticing the multiple calluses present once contact was made. Years of hard labor, she assumed. "The honor and pleasure's all mine," Katya smiled, "I ain't going to stop singing you praises anytime soon...payback for saving my life-"

A moment later her brother walzted in; Katya's mood instantly dropping. The way he casually complimented her nearly set her off, as if she didn't have a weapon pressed against her head a minute ago. "They won't be back, period. Do what you gotta do and rid them from my life...and this bar too." Katya was only a few years older than her brother, yet he rarely held her in high regard. He never listened, and that put a strain on their relationship.

"If it wasn't for this man right here I could have been good as dead." She turned on her heel, a stern talking to wouldn't stop her from preparing the promised drink. "You wouldn't have raised a finger before that man killed me," she took a jab. Maybe not well-deserved, but she was angry enough. "I want you out for good, or at the least until you handle your business entirely." Katya didn't meet his eyes, focusing instead on pouring measured amounts of alcohol on the glass between her and Dorian.

“And who’s this?”

Who indeed. The man was obviously related to Katya, or very well known to her at the least. The flash of anger within her eyes was not accompanied by an involuntary ‘fight or flight’ tensing of her extremities. If anything, the little emotional jolt steadied her pouring hand. This man was no threat to her.

However, Dorian noted with some small amusement, the stranger was attempting to mark a bit of territory as regards his presence. The use of ‘sis,’ and the less than subtle parking of his hand to advertise the gun at his belt offered a wealth of tells regarding his temperament, and his current station in life. Adler hefted the tail end of his bourbon, eyes casually dismissing the newcomer. “Tha Prodigal Brothah, Ah presume,” he offered before the glass touched his lips.

Feigning a polite deafness to the sisterly tongue lashing of ‘Grady,’ Dorian nonetheless found something more precious within Katya’s anger. Harsh words, to be sure, but when delivered by the one person who had your back in perpetuity, there was an underlying sweetness, a sense of home he hadn’t known for well over a decade. Carrie Ann used to chew into him like that, her rebukes now something he could but only cherish…another thing the war had taken.

He noticed himself in the bar’s mirror. The well rehearsed neutral cheer had clouded a bit, darkened by an old sorrow attempting to creep around behind the eyes. Katya’s words brought him back from his ghosts.

”...I want you out for good, or at the least until you handle your business entirely.”

“And that,” Dorian offered a casual shrug as he leaned toward the fresh drink, “poses tha question. What is that business, sir?” He offered the siblings a smile as the glass rose from the bar. “Considering tha mannah in which Ah negotiated with one of yah associates Ah daresay a little enlightenment is in ordah. Cheers.”

<Open Tag>

<STAGE IS SET ON SHINDIGS, KATYA BEHIND THE BAR CENTER STAGE, HANDS PLANTED ON THE POLISHED WOOD. GRADY, BEHIND THE BAR STAGE RIGHT, HOLDING A BOTTLE OF VODKA. DORIAN ON A STOOL, STAGE LEFT, ELBOWS RESTING ON THE BAR, CRYSTAL GLASS IN HIS HAND.>

KATYA: "They won't be back, period. Do what you gotta do and rid them from my life...and this bar too."

GRADY: <Watches brows knit as he's given a dressing-down at KATYA's tongue. He probably deserves it. Scratch that, judging by the blood on his knuckles--weren't his blood--he definitely deserves it. And the vodka isn't numbing this particular pain.>

KATYA: "If it wasn't for this man right here I could have been good as dead." <KATYA gestures to DORIAN, who feigns not to be listening. GRADY's eyes narrow to slits.>

"You wouldn't have raised a finger before that man killed me. I want you out for good, or at the least until you handle your business entirely." <KATYA doesn't meet GRADY's eyes. GRADY's shoulders tense.>

DORIAN: “And that,” <DORIAN shrugs> “poses tha question. What is that business, sir?” <he smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes> “Considering tha mannah in which Ah negotiated with one of yah associates Ah daresay a little enlightenment is in ordah. Cheers.” <DORIAN lifts his glass to the siblings, GRADY chews his tongue.>

GRADY: <Ignoring DORIAN's question, to KATYA:> "I'm workin' on it, Kat, but you know what would really stop them comin' round?" <GRADY, sidling a step closer to his sister, taps two fingers to his temple, a shimmer in his eye>

"I got a plan will set us right--yes us!" <GRADY, intently to KATYA> "You for this place and our old man, me, well..." <GRADY's jaw tightens, opens for another slug of vodka, for courage maybe>

"You know, I been thinkin'. That ire you got ain't lost on me: I know who I am, Kat. I know who I am, and I'm alright with it." <GRADY raises a hand to show he's not done>

"Hear me out, and if you don't like what I've got to say, I'll walk. For real this time. Hmm?"

"I know I've brought nothin' but trouble to you, to Pa, to this place he built." <GRADY gestures to the bar, affectionately known as Shindigs> "But I'm ready to set things straight." <GRADY unhands the bottle of vodka, dragging the back of his blood-covered knuckles across his chin> "The right way, like Pa always says. No scams, no blood spilled, no more scabs at the door with an over under in your back. And then I can pay you back for everything I owe you--owe Pa--and you get what you want. No more Grady darkenin' your doorstep. I'll take my share and I'm gone for good." <GRADY takes a beat, his hand scratching the back of his neck>

"Trouble is, I can't do it by myself." <elbow propped on the bar, he pivots his gaze to DORIAN to indicate he's included in this, now, for better or worse.>

KATYA: <Takes a beat, brow arches>

DORIAN: <Subtle shake of his head as he lifts his drink>

Who needs coffee when you’ve got a 5:00 AM face plunge into ice water?

“Girl,” Rene cocked an eyebrow as she coaxed Morgan from the sink, “tell me you got some sleep last night?”

It was good that the makeup artist didn’t wait for the actor’s first performance of the day. “I got a few hours,” Morgan lied before her voice was snuffed out by the hot towel.

Rene shook her head. “Mmm, mmm, mmm,” she placed a judgmental hand upon her hip. “That mouth says ‘yes,’ but those bags under your eyes say ‘huh uh.’ I’ma tell Summer…she will so give you ‘the look.’ Good thing I brought my bag of tricks."

“I’m sure I’ll get busted any minute,” the girl smiled at the unintelligible muffle of her voice. Rene soon lifted the towel, wiping Morgan’s face one last time before setting to work. Though the character Abby typically shunned makeup and only occasionally brushed her hair, a typical day’s makeup prep still required a good thirty minutes to be camera ready. This morning, Morgan was slated for ninety, a much more detailed treatment for shooting her “Mirror Abby” parts. Wise of Edgar to plunge her straight into the most nerve wracking portion first.

As Rene set to work her art, Morgan glanced over the swath of photos taped to the mirror. Summer gazed back, her expression neutral through the series of closeups detailing her makeup. The two women were a match for height and body type. Summer had colored her hair to match Morgan’s reddish hue. She noted the difference in their faces…Summer’s jawline was a bit more rounded, and Morgan realized that her nose was more of a button, where that of her dance coach and on camera double had more graceful lines. “How’d she do?” she asked.

Rene pulled back, admiring her work. “I missed the dailies…had Harrison in the chair for a night scene, but I heard it was all B roll…hmmm.” She rummaged through her kit, frowning. “I’m a little short on your base. Gimme a sec to grab more from the van.”

“Sure.” The makeup artist dashed from the room, leaving Morgan and her stomach full of butterflies. She pondered these fears as the confident eyes of Summer gazed back from the photo set. It’s not Abby, the actor mused. I can wear her like my own skin. Maybe it’s how this scene connects? Or how it doesn’t? She knew the script, knew the blocking and moves. She understood the overall surreal nature, a fantasy sequence which could be the actual choke point for a girl as grounded as Abigail Travis. She’d listened to “Pipe Dream” so many times in rehearsals that she could make her marks without thinking. But could Abby? The character hooks were easily adopted, but for the life of her, Morgan had yet to find ‘that thing’ which would tie this scene directly to the soul of China Doll’s youngest crewmember.

Her hip pocket vibrated. Good thing Rene’s not here, Morgan smirked at the makeup artist’s “no phones!” rule. She fished the iPhone from the pocket of her sweats, then blanched when she saw Edgar’s name on the text.

When I listen to the lyrics, I hear a young woman discovering her personal anthem. What does Abby hear? -E.

Morgan knew them by heart. She’d pored over the lyrics, industriously conjoining important words and phrases with Summer’s precise choreography. She’d done the work, graduating from the timed mechanics to the addition of more graceful, fluid efforts. The music flowed through her.

As was often the case, Abby’s observations could knock her right off her pins. ”Yah conjure sharin’?”

”Sharing?” she asked the character. ”What haven’t I shared?” She mused over the question.

”After I press ‘play,” Abby’s familiar twang filled her mind’s ear, ”yew ain’t give me a shot at la shi ‘til we’s up against tha wall.”

There was no arguing. Morgan knew…felt…the truth of that. A big, surprise dance number in a show that wasn’t big on dance moves. In her worried rush to master Summer’s choreography, Morgan had left the principal element standing outside the dance studio door. Abby, the rough hewn girl to whom this scene belonged, hadn’t been given any say. Sorry, Abby, Morgan acknowledged her failure as the earbuds came out from her pocket. I’ll fix that right now. With the deckhand settling into her skin once more, Morgan called the song onto her phone. For the first time, they shared the music, listening together as the lyrics struck home.

”Well if it feels good then do it,
Don’t let nobody shake you down…”

The music pulsed through them. A smile rose to Morgan’s lips. “What do you think?” she asked.

Abby’s head bobbed gently as she listened. “Yeah,” she answered. “I cotton tah this.”

”Think you can dance to it?”

“Mirror Me?” She could feel a wry smile from Abby. “She’ll be tolerable shiny . But Real Me, wearin’ muh boots an’ day-tah-day? Let’s jest say yer girl Summer’s gon’ have ‘er work cut out when I’m done.”

“But…it’s all planned. All set up.”

”Best thing ‘bout havin’ a plan,” Abby quoted one of Cal’s signature lines, ”is how well yah can change it. Put reg’lar me up first.”

“Abby, there’s a schedule. Edgar…” Morgan protested as her thumbs began tapping a message into her iPhone.

Abby wants up 1st. B4 Mirror Abby. That OK?

“God, he must think I’m a spoiled little diva,” Morgan whispered as she and her character awaited the director’s response.

They didn’t wait long.

Splendid.

”I like that fella,” Abby said.

Morgan could feel the smile spreading across Abby’s face. “Me too.”