{Snip}
As Ryan watched he most definitely got the feeling that Tyrus was about to
get into trouble...
Ryan looked at the two men with the grocer and let his cortical chip scan
them to run their faces through Starfleet's facial recognition database.
Facial recognition was not helpful. They were not in the database. One, the
bigger of the two, was Ramesar. The smaller was Bajoran. The Ramesar was
tall, in incredible shape. He had a put together, squared away look that
led Ryan to believe he was elite military. Or at least was up until
recently. He did not have the smooth edges of an operator or a merc that
was in the business for very long. The Bajoran... was just a local thug for
hire.
He moved slowly toward Mr. Naraal, keeping his eye on the grocer and the
two men with him, while trying to not look like he was keeping his eye on
them. "Looks like your grocer friend isn't worried about paying his bills,"
Ryan said lightly, with an amused smile. "Patrick Ryan," he said, offering
his hand to Naraal. "I was just out on my morning run and noticed you
running, too. Are you done, or were you planning on running more? If you
are, would you mind if I tagged along? I don't know this area well and I'd
hate to get lost."
"I would love to. Running with company is always better than running alone.
However, my friend Sal, sells the best fruit and would be great to end our
run with. It won't take but a minute to get the fruit, after these fellas
bug off.", Tyrus answered taking the hand that was offered. The hand shake
was firm, and lingered just barely a moment longer than was necessary.
Tyrus was unsure how to read Ryan's arrival.
Naraal was focused on Ryan, and did not see the Ramesar tense up or the
Bajoran put his right hand into his vest.
Ryan again moved to keep himself between Naraal and the two men. "Wouldn't
it be better to come back here later, then?" he asked, "rather than carry
the fruit with us? We'll come back by this way."
"It probably would, but I want to get first pick."
Another figure came around the corner about a block away. She was walking
at a slow, yet purposeful pace. Her path was from the east, so the morning
sun made it difficult if not impossible to tell anything about her
Three potential threats and the man he was supposed to be protecting seemed
pretty damned clueless. These were marine odds here. "Well, then," Ryan
said, "maybe we should see why these guys are giving your friend the fruit
seller such a hard time." He turned to face the Ramesar and the Bajoran.
"Do we have a problem here, gentlemen?" he asked simply. His hand was
nowhere near his weapon. But if there was to be a fight, he was more than
ready.
(eh?)
Admiral Matthew Brennan
Ryan Thompson
Khre'Riov Ael t'Khllrenz, Ambassador, RSE
Spacedock
