Time was a finite gift for a woman like Inara who used it to mostly build connections, spend time with clients and pile on the credits as if her life depended on it. As much as she enjoyed her free time outside of work, it was often limited to practicing her skills, honing her craft for her clients. That was the intense training she had received since she was somewhere between a child and a young woman— but even the most intense of monks took a break or two. It was good for the soul, or at least that was the excuse she used on her single free day on Bellerophon. She was a permanent guest to this particular planet, coming and going to visit a specific client whose tastes ran high and pleasures ran low. She was an extraordinary woman, the kind that drew Inara in so easily and she was a rare exception to some of the clients she had. This particular client held no jealousy or possessive tendencies towards Inara, granting her permission to invite her 'friend' [a rouse, a false name given to protect his identity].
When the day came and Cassian informed her he was near, she made sure to secure the best table she could at this particular restaurant. She was already seated there, a long red dress clinging tightly to her figure, a long shawl around her shoulders and the usual traditional jewelry she often wore around her delicate neck. With a soft smile, she rose up to greet the man— a silent whisper in her mind that she was genuinely glad he showed up and was alive.
"I have to say, I was almost expecting you to bail on me. Glad to see you made it in one piece, please—", she said after gently embracing him and pulling from him to guide her hand towards his seat. "Have a seat, shall we order a cocktail and get the stories rolling? I'm ever so curious."
The moment the maître left them alone — there was a sliding door granting them privacy — Cassian’s entire body language changed. He had been casually arrogant, overlooking the staff, but now like a snake shedding its skin, a weight left his shoulders and he loosened up, looking and sounding more natural as soon as he felt Inara’s embrace, with the brief whiff of shampoo and hair oils and expensive perfume. This was always a glimpse of an unfamiliar world; one he only ever passed through, fleetingly, but which Inara made home.
“You make it sound like I’m a flake. I'm hurt,” Cassian said, mock-affronted, hand pressed to his heart. But he took the seat next to her, rather than opposite — the better to see the exit — and then skimmed the drinks menu, glancing at the specialty cocktails. “A Corellian sunrise for me.”
They might run in different circles, but the Rebellion could always use a crew like Serenity: skilled smugglers, good shots, experienced with weaselling their way through imperial blockades. Old Browncoat attachments, and while her people weren’t exactly official insurgents— they were still sympathetic, and of assistance. The sort you could call in a pinch. Cassian had worked with them a few times, got along with them well enough; liked Inara in particular. His droid liked Wash, for some reason. Funny world.
“I’m honestly just glad to have made it off that forsaken planet alive. I was the only person capable of flying the ship, and they still kept threatening to kill me.”
He was clearly omitting pertinent context, like he always did — details were a need-to-know basis — but he’d share enough to make it funny.
Despite the looming wealth and refinery around them, the way he so easily rebutted her words with playful banter kept the mood light and easy. It was enough to make her forget that this moment was a rarity in between the things they did, the lives they had that pulled them in all sorts of directions. The times they managed to be in each other’s presence was mostly saved for missions the entire crew of Serenity was pulled into and while Inara had made it clear to the others she wasn’t to be involved— when it involved Cassian, somehow she got roped in.
“I know you’re not, I’m just happy to see you again.”, she said softly and as they sat together. Although things were light around them, she was quick to note where his attention seemed to be. There would be no comments from her on it because she understood; moments of peace like this, uninterrupted were exceedingly rare even for her now.
At the table, a screen flipped forward allowing her to place the order for their drinks, and as they awaited those, she began to casually peruse the dinner menu. It was a bit of a strange feeling being so normal like this but as soon as he began his story, she turned to face him giving him a quizzical look—
One that clearly indicated she suspected he brought such ire on himself through one way or another.
“Oh? And why exactly did they threaten you so much? Mouthed off to them? Come now, I feel like you’re hiding something.” Still all smiles, she simply laughed as she returned her gaze back to the menu.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m completely innocent.”
There was a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of Cassian’s mouth; the man had a dry, cheeky sense of humour, but sometimes that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He purposefully tried to keep things light, fun, noncommittal, but over the time that she’d known him, he often seemed more and more tired, frayed around the edges, a little too-serious and too-focused on his mission. Her Companionship training meant she could easily pick out that tension, written all over him. These interludes were at least an attempt to unwind, to remember how to relax, how to be a person.
A server-droid swung by and dropped off their drinks and some water; tapped from some off-world glacier planet, he couldn’t even imagine the cost, and he took a sip while sorting through the details, considering how much was safe to say.
But all of the people involved were dead, so what did it matter anyway —
“It looked like they’d crash-landed on this jungle planet, with no way off. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” story of his life, “and they thought I looked suspicious; so they tied me up, wanted to steal my ship, but couldn’t figure out how it worked. There wasn’t enough room to take the whole crew in my ship at once, but none of them trusted each other or me enough to let me leave with some of them.”
A beat and he looked at Inara, considering. Thought experiment time: “What would you have done? Either in my place or theirs.”
It was never difficult for her to sense people’s intentions when the air about them seemed off— with individuals like Saffron it was painfully obvious something was wrong the more she studied her. It was the same way with the man before her, the more time they spent together, the more they spoke— she could just feel his tiredness. There was no doubt in Inara’s mind she could offer him endless comfort and all the things she did for her clients that met their emotional needs (more so than sexual ones), but she was always careful to keep that boundary between them.
No sense in getting caught up in feelings again.
As the drinks came to them, she took her more simple one- red wine and drank from it as she heard his story. It wasn’t rare for people like them to face precarious situations, life and death over a misunderstanding or general distrust. However at his question, she found herself holding the glass to her lips, pondering his question. It was a difficult thing to answer really because he was asking her on the spot—
and being a woman, she would certainly face far more risk than just death. With a soft smile, she set her drink down and leaned back into her seat, giving him a curious glance.
“Always quick to put my mind to work. That certainly is a predicament, I suppose I would have done what you have but given that you know me, you already knew that. As for them…”, she said, finger tapping lightly at the glass.
“I probably would have gotten you to get the ship to work and killed you upon arrival.”
“Mmhm.” Cassian made an agreeing noise and tilted his glass, examining the way the different liquids blurred into each other like a bloodied sunrise, before taking another sip of the cocktail.
Hers was a callous response, but that meant it was the exact same calculation he’d done for himself at the time. Weighing risks versus benefits, and his chances of getting out of there alive if he played along with the shithead rebels versus not. It was one of the things he appreciated about Inara: she wasn’t some dewy-eyed innocent, shocked and aghast at the realities of the life they had to lead in this galaxy. She’d seen enough ugly things herself. Knew how people worked.
“That’s about what I figured, too. So I kept refusing. Knew my utility would be gone as soon as I taught them how to fly. So I bided my time and turned them further against each other, until they were fully distracted and I could slip away in the scuffle.”
It wasn't difficult for Inara to immediately sense the air between them had become just a bit tense. She couldn't say it was her intent to bring down the mood or say something truly callous but he had asked her for the truth, for her opinion. Was it harsher than it should have been? Perhaps but that was just another indicator of the complexities that made up the Companion—
but she couldn't ruminate in that heaviness for very long. Not when he was a precious guest of hers and she had drawn him all the way out to this place that was far from his 'type'. It was mostly because she was already here but really she did want to treat him to something special. So she nodded at his words, a soft hum escaping her as she pulled the menu and opened it up in front of him. She moved just a bit closer to him, an easy but boundary pushing gesture and then she finally spoke.
"Well it's what I might have done but I'm glad they didn't kill you. So let's celebrate, order whatever you want and if you really want that dessert...", she purred gently, eyes looking up at his, a hint of regret over her words. "Then promise you'll at least share with me."
[ Prompt: Inara receives a web message from H. Crane, a mysterious and private core world art collector and businessman, requesting a preliminary meeting at the next convenient civilized planet she stops at. It's extremely polite and properly worded, making no presumptions, paying her full rate for her time in advance. Other than that, he gives very few details. ]
( after another restless argument with the captain of her ship it seemed inara was just about ready to give up on her line of work and truly turn into a petty thief. smuggling garbage like geisha dolls and costume jewelry was far beneath her, but she had a very specific goal. the onus was truly on her to find ways to visit clients and accumulate them—
though it seemed fortune had smiled upon her today. it had been another hectic day aboard the serenity, the crew was fighting each other for the last can of processed meat with river tormenting anyone who dared divide it in the incorrect fashion. instead of enduring that level of torture, inara decided to return to her own shuttle, the ding of a new message coming in at the same time as her return. after thoroughly inspecting the message, she decided to get to work.
this type of client was far from being out of the ordinary for her but there was something interesting about the fact that he was willing to pay the full rate in advance. that type of customer could mean one of two things— either they were going to be one of the best clients she's had, a repeat contract or they were expecting far more from her because of their 'generosity'. it was a difficult thing for her to determine really, because although she managed herself with the upmost of control and firmness, she wasn't able to predict what she could expect. only basing her expectations off of the behavior of previous clients.
regardless of what was to come, she began her preparations as usual and informed the rest of the crew that her newest client so happened to be conveniently located on a planet only a day away from them. it took some arguing, but the arrangements were made.
—
when the day finally came, she sent her location to her client and began working on creating a very specific ambiance for the man. the lighting in her shuttle was low, shawls draped over lamps and the smell of incense filled the room with both a fragrant smell and a light fog. water for tea was brewing away on a small stovetop, an array of different types of tea spread out on a coffee table for her guest to pick.
all that was left was for the man of the hour to show up, and when he did, inara would be at the door of her shuttle in a long silk dress, gold jewelry adorning her features, and a soft expression on her face. )
[ Harold is nervous. Extremely nervous. It's completely foreign for him to reach out at all, for support or alliance or even to make enemies, frankly. He's a frightfully reserved person who hasn't used his real name since he was seventeen. He's lost-- is everything an exaggeration? It doesn't feel like it.
He can't see Grace again, Nathan is dead, and he can't bear to communicate with the Machine. It had pushed him not to go through with his awful revenge plan on Alicia Corwin, who truly didn't deserve it, was the messenger and not the author... and still Harold couldn't face what he'd made. Not really. He got the output, the irrelevant numbers, and he stared at them stymied from his wheelchair as he tried to muster up the courage to do something, anything, about them.
It's some months later from that point, and he has found some courage. He's done things; he's tried. But he's still so frightfully alone. He's worried that he'll fall back into that same dark place he'd been in when he'd decided to suffocate Alicia Corwin in her own vehicle. Harold hadn't ever thought he had that in himself, and confronting that made him also confront that he was responsible for preventing it from happening again. How close was he to repeating that with some offender he runs across while working the irrelevant numbers? How close was he really? He needs a safe outlet to be sure.
A registered Companion seemed the lesser of all possible evils for spilling his guts. They were famously and notoriously discreet, and the idea of therapy made him feel ill. Harold supports psychotherapy as a practice, of course. He'd encourage anyone else to go. But he knows that counseling will want to have the end goal of him moving on, and...
He doesn't want to.
So he finds himself meeting Inara Serra, someone he'd meticulously researched before choosing, on a mid-tier planet on a ramshackle ship. He's not about to chance anyone too connected to the establishment, so this choice is deliberate. He's dressed immaculately as Harold Crane, higher brow than usual, and he has a cane that he doesn't use for support despite his limp as he makes his way on board. He has a remote expression, distant, the best coping mechanism he knows.
Despite his air of aloofness, he's impeccably courteous as he greets Inara at her door, inclining his head respectfully. ]
Ms. Serra, thank you for agreeing to this engagement. I'm sure your time is precious.
( the moment the door opened and the flood of light from the outside filled the vicinity, inara rose her gaze up to meet the man before her. whatever worries and concerns that had filled her about the kind of client he might be, were easily lifted away by his impeccable manners and courteous words. at his own incline, she followed soon with a gentle ease, matching his energy without hesitation. there was always the possibility that this was a well crafted persona, the truth waiting to lurk once they were far more intimate but there was something almost sad about him.
still, without any further hesitation or delay, inara gently stepped to the side to allow harold in and closed the door to her shuttle almost immediately after him. )
It's my pleasure, this time we will be spending together is far more precious, so please don't worry.
( moving behind him, inara began to guide him towards one of the more comfortable couches in her shuttle. once he seemed to follow her lead and take comfort in his own space, at his own pace, she began to move towards the pot of boiling water. )
I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of preparing water for a proper tea ceremony. Do you have a preference? Green, black, oolong.....?
( with the handle of the pot in her hand, she began to walk over towards the coffee table in front of harold, guiding her free hand towards the assortment of tea already placed there for his benefit. the setup was professional and intended to allow him to smell the aroma of each bundle of tea leaves, with there being a setup for gongfu, accessories and all including a tea pet. there was a small plate next to the tray, offering an assortment of eastern snacks meant to aid in digestion and health— from dried jujube, dried persimmons, and other assortments.
in the meantime, she stood before him awaiting for his decision before she began the elaborate and correct process of brewing tea for this particular ceremony. )
[ He's here for comfort and support, he's paying her for it, but Harold still feels unmoored to be offered it so readily. Their first words exchanged and she's already expressing more care for him than he's heard from another human being since Nathan died. He'd done that to himself -- he'd isolated himself, purposefully; he can't risk Grace -- and anyone who becomes newly important to him will equally have a target on their back, same as Grace, so it's best if he doesn't allow it --
It's only the professionalism here that makes him brave enough to try. He's done everything he can to bury this encounter in a well-protected identity, the kind of thing no one would blink twice at Harold Crane engaging in. It's as safe as he could ever make it, hypothetically safer than he's been in ages. His background check on Inara and her shipmates was thorough.
Safety is such a foreign idea he doesn't know how to trust it, tries to cover his blip of awkwardness as he takes a seat and follows her invitation to examine the tea selection. He sets his cane to the side and unbuttons his jacket first -- proper etiquette while sitting -- and is in fact put more at ease by the familiar, comforting task of considering which tea to make, if in a much more elaborate setting than usual. ]
I'm partial to Japanese greens, [ he admits. ] This is an impressive arrangement. I confess I've never attended a traditional tea ceremony.
[ And he's obviously curious, interested in art and culture and fine food as always. It's nicely pulling him out of his morose thoughts and back to the present already. ]
( the entire ordeal of hiring inara and seeking her for companionship was a carefully curated affair that even those experienced with finer luxuries and the like would be left surprised by. from the decor in her shuttle, to the soft and delicate smell of lavender and sandalwood that filled the space, to simply the way she handled herself before her guests was something she planned and executed well. it was never her intentions to outright be on anyone's good side for anything too dark or ulterior— but rather she knew that repeat customers who enjoyed this kind of thing were far better than the occasional guest who rebuffed her traditions and rituals. not everything was about sex—
even if the end goal was that for most clients. )
Well Mr. Crane I'm certainly honored that I get to be the first to provide such an experience for you. I don't often entertain guests who know the subtleties and variances of Japanese green teas. How about a sencha to start you off with?
( it was suitable in a way— the blend of cultures and items in his setup given just how blended their world had become over the many years of humans colonizing the stars.
at his word she began to prepare everything for him, hands moving graceful almost as if she were moving the rhythm of a few piano notes being played. her eyes were concentrated on the task at hand at first, but soon she gazed up at him to give him every ounce of attention he had paid for. after all, at the end of the day this was all for him and so far he had been a pleasant guest. )
I do hope you find it suitable to your tastes, I find the balance of sweetness and bitterness makes for a perfect experience, leaving just a bit of aftertaste to remind you of what you just enjoyed....
( of course there's just the slightest bit of flirting in her words there, almost as if to say 'you'll taste me and I'll linger, haunting you leaving you yearning for more.'. )
My first week at the academy, I accidentally hit my NCO in the head with the butt of my rifle. He blamed it on the soldier beside me. I think he thought I looked too mild-mannered to be that stupid.
Does that balance the scales a little better?
[ she did say at least one secret...... she didn't say what kind............ ]
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— closed
Time was a finite gift for a woman like Inara who used it to mostly build connections, spend time with clients and pile on the credits as if her life depended on it. As much as she enjoyed her free time outside of work, it was often limited to practicing her skills, honing her craft for her clients. That was the intense training she had received since she was somewhere between a child and a young woman— but even the most intense of monks took a break or two. It was good for the soul, or at least that was the excuse she used on her single free day on Bellerophon. She was a permanent guest to this particular planet, coming and going to visit a specific client whose tastes ran high and pleasures ran low. She was an extraordinary woman, the kind that drew Inara in so easily and she was a rare exception to some of the clients she had. This particular client held no jealousy or possessive tendencies towards Inara, granting her permission to invite her 'friend' [a rouse, a false name given to protect his identity].
When the day came and Cassian informed her he was near, she made sure to secure the best table she could at this particular restaurant. She was already seated there, a long red dress clinging tightly to her figure, a long shawl around her shoulders and the usual traditional jewelry she often wore around her delicate neck. With a soft smile, she rose up to greet the man— a silent whisper in her mind that she was genuinely glad he showed up and was alive.
"I have to say, I was almost expecting you to bail on me. Glad to see you made it in one piece, please—", she said after gently embracing him and pulling from him to guide her hand towards his seat. "Have a seat, shall we order a cocktail and get the stories rolling? I'm ever so curious."
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“You make it sound like I’m a flake. I'm hurt,” Cassian said, mock-affronted, hand pressed to his heart. But he took the seat next to her, rather than opposite — the better to see the exit — and then skimmed the drinks menu, glancing at the specialty cocktails. “A Corellian sunrise for me.”
They might run in different circles, but the Rebellion could always use a crew like Serenity: skilled smugglers, good shots, experienced with weaselling their way through imperial blockades. Old Browncoat attachments, and while her people weren’t exactly official insurgents— they were still sympathetic, and of assistance. The sort you could call in a pinch. Cassian had worked with them a few times, got along with them well enough; liked Inara in particular. His droid liked Wash, for some reason. Funny world.
“I’m honestly just glad to have made it off that forsaken planet alive. I was the only person capable of flying the ship, and they still kept threatening to kill me.”
He was clearly omitting pertinent context, like he always did — details were a need-to-know basis — but he’d share enough to make it funny.
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“I know you’re not, I’m just happy to see you again.”, she said softly and as they sat together. Although things were light around them, she was quick to note where his attention seemed to be. There would be no comments from her on it because she understood; moments of peace like this, uninterrupted were exceedingly rare even for her now.
At the table, a screen flipped forward allowing her to place the order for their drinks, and as they awaited those, she began to casually peruse the dinner menu. It was a bit of a strange feeling being so normal like this but as soon as he began his story, she turned to face him giving him a quizzical look—
One that clearly indicated she suspected he brought such ire on himself through one way or another.
“Oh? And why exactly did they threaten you so much? Mouthed off to them? Come now, I feel like you’re hiding something.” Still all smiles, she simply laughed as she returned her gaze back to the menu.
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There was a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of Cassian’s mouth; the man had a dry, cheeky sense of humour, but sometimes that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He purposefully tried to keep things light, fun, noncommittal, but over the time that she’d known him, he often seemed more and more tired, frayed around the edges, a little too-serious and too-focused on his mission. Her Companionship training meant she could easily pick out that tension, written all over him. These interludes were at least an attempt to unwind, to remember how to relax, how to be a person.
A server-droid swung by and dropped off their drinks and some water; tapped from some off-world glacier planet, he couldn’t even imagine the cost, and he took a sip while sorting through the details, considering how much was safe to say.
But all of the people involved were dead, so what did it matter anyway —
“It looked like they’d crash-landed on this jungle planet, with no way off. I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” story of his life, “and they thought I looked suspicious; so they tied me up, wanted to steal my ship, but couldn’t figure out how it worked. There wasn’t enough room to take the whole crew in my ship at once, but none of them trusted each other or me enough to let me leave with some of them.”
A beat and he looked at Inara, considering. Thought experiment time: “What would you have done? Either in my place or theirs.”
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No sense in getting caught up in feelings again.
As the drinks came to them, she took her more simple one- red wine and drank from it as she heard his story. It wasn’t rare for people like them to face precarious situations, life and death over a misunderstanding or general distrust. However at his question, she found herself holding the glass to her lips, pondering his question. It was a difficult thing to answer really because he was asking her on the spot—
and being a woman, she would certainly face far more risk than just death. With a soft smile, she set her drink down and leaned back into her seat, giving him a curious glance.
“Always quick to put my mind to work. That certainly is a predicament, I suppose I would have done what you have but given that you know me, you already knew that. As for them…”, she said, finger tapping lightly at the glass.
“I probably would have gotten you to get the ship to work and killed you upon arrival.”
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Hers was a callous response, but that meant it was the exact same calculation he’d done for himself at the time. Weighing risks versus benefits, and his chances of getting out of there alive if he played along with the shithead rebels versus not. It was one of the things he appreciated about Inara: she wasn’t some dewy-eyed innocent, shocked and aghast at the realities of the life they had to lead in this galaxy. She’d seen enough ugly things herself. Knew how people worked.
“That’s about what I figured, too. So I kept refusing. Knew my utility would be gone as soon as I taught them how to fly. So I bided my time and turned them further against each other, until they were fully distracted and I could slip away in the scuffle.”
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but she couldn't ruminate in that heaviness for very long. Not when he was a precious guest of hers and she had drawn him all the way out to this place that was far from his 'type'. It was mostly because she was already here but really she did want to treat him to something special. So she nodded at his words, a soft hum escaping her as she pulled the menu and opened it up in front of him. She moved just a bit closer to him, an easy but boundary pushing gesture and then she finally spoke.
"Well it's what I might have done but I'm glad they didn't kill you. So let's celebrate, order whatever you want and if you really want that dessert...", she purred gently, eyes looking up at his, a hint of regret over her words. "Then promise you'll at least share with me."
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tropes intensify
yesss ♡
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though it seemed fortune had smiled upon her today. it had been another hectic day aboard the serenity, the crew was fighting each other for the last can of processed meat with river tormenting anyone who dared divide it in the incorrect fashion. instead of enduring that level of torture, inara decided to return to her own shuttle, the ding of a new message coming in at the same time as her return. after thoroughly inspecting the message, she decided to get to work.
this type of client was far from being out of the ordinary for her but there was something interesting about the fact that he was willing to pay the full rate in advance. that type of customer could mean one of two things— either they were going to be one of the best clients she's had, a repeat contract or they were expecting far more from her because of their 'generosity'. it was a difficult thing for her to determine really, because although she managed herself with the upmost of control and firmness, she wasn't able to predict what she could expect. only basing her expectations off of the behavior of previous clients.
regardless of what was to come, she began her preparations as usual and informed the rest of the crew that her newest client so happened to be conveniently located on a planet only a day away from them. it took some arguing, but the arrangements were made.
—
when the day finally came, she sent her location to her client and began working on creating a very specific ambiance for the man. the lighting in her shuttle was low, shawls draped over lamps and the smell of incense filled the room with both a fragrant smell and a light fog. water for tea was brewing away on a small stovetop, an array of different types of tea spread out on a coffee table for her guest to pick.
all that was left was for the man of the hour to show up, and when he did, inara would be at the door of her shuttle in a long silk dress, gold jewelry adorning her features, and a soft expression on her face. )
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He can't see Grace again, Nathan is dead, and he can't bear to communicate with the Machine. It had pushed him not to go through with his awful revenge plan on Alicia Corwin, who truly didn't deserve it, was the messenger and not the author... and still Harold couldn't face what he'd made. Not really. He got the output, the irrelevant numbers, and he stared at them stymied from his wheelchair as he tried to muster up the courage to do something, anything, about them.
It's some months later from that point, and he has found some courage. He's done things; he's tried. But he's still so frightfully alone. He's worried that he'll fall back into that same dark place he'd been in when he'd decided to suffocate Alicia Corwin in her own vehicle. Harold hadn't ever thought he had that in himself, and confronting that made him also confront that he was responsible for preventing it from happening again. How close was he to repeating that with some offender he runs across while working the irrelevant numbers? How close was he really? He needs a safe outlet to be sure.
A registered Companion seemed the lesser of all possible evils for spilling his guts. They were famously and notoriously discreet, and the idea of therapy made him feel ill. Harold supports psychotherapy as a practice, of course. He'd encourage anyone else to go. But he knows that counseling will want to have the end goal of him moving on, and...
He doesn't want to.
So he finds himself meeting Inara Serra, someone he'd meticulously researched before choosing, on a mid-tier planet on a ramshackle ship. He's not about to chance anyone too connected to the establishment, so this choice is deliberate. He's dressed immaculately as Harold Crane, higher brow than usual, and he has a cane that he doesn't use for support despite his limp as he makes his way on board. He has a remote expression, distant, the best coping mechanism he knows.
Despite his air of aloofness, he's impeccably courteous as he greets Inara at her door, inclining his head respectfully. ]
Ms. Serra, thank you for agreeing to this engagement. I'm sure your time is precious.
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still, without any further hesitation or delay, inara gently stepped to the side to allow harold in and closed the door to her shuttle almost immediately after him. )
It's my pleasure, this time we will be spending together is far more precious, so please don't worry.
( moving behind him, inara began to guide him towards one of the more comfortable couches in her shuttle. once he seemed to follow her lead and take comfort in his own space, at his own pace, she began to move towards the pot of boiling water. )
I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of preparing water for a proper tea ceremony. Do you have a preference? Green, black, oolong.....?
( with the handle of the pot in her hand, she began to walk over towards the coffee table in front of harold, guiding her free hand towards the assortment of tea already placed there for his benefit. the setup was professional and intended to allow him to smell the aroma of each bundle of tea leaves, with there being a setup for gongfu, accessories and all including a tea pet. there was a small plate next to the tray, offering an assortment of eastern snacks meant to aid in digestion and health— from dried jujube, dried persimmons, and other assortments.
in the meantime, she stood before him awaiting for his decision before she began the elaborate and correct process of brewing tea for this particular ceremony. )
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It's only the professionalism here that makes him brave enough to try. He's done everything he can to bury this encounter in a well-protected identity, the kind of thing no one would blink twice at Harold Crane engaging in. It's as safe as he could ever make it, hypothetically safer than he's been in ages. His background check on Inara and her shipmates was thorough.
Safety is such a foreign idea he doesn't know how to trust it, tries to cover his blip of awkwardness as he takes a seat and follows her invitation to examine the tea selection. He sets his cane to the side and unbuttons his jacket first -- proper etiquette while sitting -- and is in fact put more at ease by the familiar, comforting task of considering which tea to make, if in a much more elaborate setting than usual. ]
I'm partial to Japanese greens, [ he admits. ] This is an impressive arrangement. I confess I've never attended a traditional tea ceremony.
[ And he's obviously curious, interested in art and culture and fine food as always. It's nicely pulling him out of his morose thoughts and back to the present already. ]
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even if the end goal was that for most clients. )
Well Mr. Crane I'm certainly honored that I get to be the first to provide such an experience for you. I don't often entertain guests who know the subtleties and variances of Japanese green teas. How about a sencha to start you off with?
( it was suitable in a way— the blend of cultures and items in his setup given just how blended their world had become over the many years of humans colonizing the stars.
at his word she began to prepare everything for him, hands moving graceful almost as if she were moving the rhythm of a few piano notes being played. her eyes were concentrated on the task at hand at first, but soon she gazed up at him to give him every ounce of attention he had paid for. after all, at the end of the day this was all for him and so far he had been a pleasant guest. )
I do hope you find it suitable to your tastes, I find the balance of sweetness and bitterness makes for a perfect experience, leaving just a bit of aftertaste to remind you of what you just enjoyed....
( of course there's just the slightest bit of flirting in her words there, almost as if to say 'you'll taste me and I'll linger, haunting you leaving you yearning for more.'. )
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spicy? since when do you ever use the word 'spicy'?
should I be concerned?
( maybe there was some mutual attraction between the two, but given his own behavior, she wasn't too sure on that. )
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Which seems to have worked nicely.
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you could have just said you were feeling lonely, you know?
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tell me, what can I do to help?
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Or some amusing gossip. Just a little banter to penetrate that bubble people build around themselves.
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after all the help I've given you? clearly there must be more at play here.
care to divulge at least one of your secrets?
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He blamed it on the soldier beside me. I think he thought I looked too mild-mannered to be that stupid.
Does that balance the scales a little better?
[ she did say at least one secret...... she didn't say what kind............ ]
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still doesn’t explain why I’m being denied anything however.
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I said I'd deny you anything, but here I am, giving up my secrets just because you asked.
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you’ve only indulged me in one, and if you wish for me not to call you ‘cute’, you should consider indulging me further.
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I've got quite a few secrets, you know. I've heard worse threats for them than a beautiful woman finding me endearing.
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