The sangheili wouldn't stop. He had a gun, and it wouldn't stop. James prodded the pistol at the waitress' head. Someone had told him to put the firearm away. Seeing how things are unfolding, he wanted to. But it was too late for that. His thoughts raced. [i]Jesus. It's still coming.[/i] "I swear I'll shoot it! By god, I'll shoot!" He sweated. That sangheili was [i]keen.[/i] Was the servant that important? He flicked the safety off. He never actually anticipated pulling the trigger. Hell, he wasn't even supposed to take out the weapon, but then things got hectic, and he had whipped it out of the holster without his brain's consent. [i]Hellhellhell.[/i] He nudged the alien on the ground with the barrel. "Tell her to stop," he whispered urgently. "[i]Do it![/i]" The waitress eyeballed him, and then went back to its mistress. [i]Christ,[/i] he wasn't even its top priority. "[i]Tell her![/i]" His voice was hoarse. He thought he had guts. He thought he would have the balls to shoot someone. But god damn, he didn't know he was such a [i]chicken.[/i] His finger twitched. Instinct clamped its jaws, and he swiveled to meet the rising threat. [i]Oh god what do I do -[/i] Something slammed into him. Physical activity took up a chunk of James' life. Whether it training, or sport, or simple exercise, his body had taken a hell of a good beating, wringing it into a knotted string of steel wire. But the boulder that tackled him, the dark blur that fractured two ribs and nearly ruptured a lung, was the most titanic, physical impact he had ever felt. Stars exploded in his vision. His stomach wrenched, and he gagged reflexively, spitting blood. They sprawled onto the deck together, the thing on top of him breathing heavily in his face. He shuddered, wheezing, and blacked out. ... ... ...And then intuition dragged him shrieking out of his momentary unconsciousness, driving a nail of cognition into his fist. He gasped and swung. Missed. [i]Gun.[/i] [i]I have a gun.[/i] He struggled, the thing on top of him staking him down with a robed elbow. Muted pain hammered in his head. He tried to bring up his right arm, tried to shoot the heady-smelling mass, tried to escape the lock Agony splintered his wrist. He gave a muffled scream, right hand convulsing. It slammed again against the deck, and the gun was ripped away, his fingers nearly dislodging in the process. He nearly fainted again, and something hit him across the ear. The world rung. The weight on top lifted for a moment, and he was flipped over, his body flattened against the floor. A hand grabbed his hair, yanking his head back until his throat felt like splitting. The floor met his forehead in a cold embrace once, twice. And then thrice, thankfully, finally, knocking him into oblivion. -- It was something in his eye that lulled him out of abeyance. James blinked irritably. He was on his knees, face against the decking, arms splayed out on his side. A dull throb sent lances up his wrist. He groaned, and his distorted reflection leered back at him in the purple metal. A red liquid dribbled around his eyes, leaking from... a cut on his forehead. He winced at the realisation, and blinked again. Oh, he's caused trouble. Lots of it. His bosses ought to give him a massive paycheck. If he survived. He struggled into a standing position. They were still in the dining chamber. Actually well, more specifically, he was in the dining chamber. Alone. There was no sign of the other guests. He frowned. The chamber seemed awfully suspicious now, and he was also missing his blazer. His empty holster stood out like a sore on his shirt. And there was blood in his eye again. [i]Oh boy, you've jumped into a pile of hell too deep to swim out of this time, eh?[/i] He peered at his wrist, undoing the cufflink for good and gently easing the sleeve back. It wasn't pretty. The skin was almost black, and there were small gashes where the flesh had split under the force. The bones were out of proportion, and were bruising up to the point where it was as thick as his forearm. He sighed, and limped his way to one of the doors. He frowned a second time and felt his abdomen; there was probably a rib broken as well. Something collared him. James gargled. He thrashed in the grip, attempting to sweep a foot back in a counter. It thudded against an ankle and did nothing. The thing dropped him onto the deck. He lay there, winded. -blam!-, his throat hurt. It was the waitress. Where the hell did she come from? It she stared down at him, and then casually placed a foot on his chest. He gasped painfully. "Hello." James nearly blanched right then and there, and laughed too, at the sheer strangeness of seeing the alien speaking so casually, were it not for the massive hoof-toe on his stomach. She cut straight to the subject. "You tried to kill my mistress." He tapped at her foot desperately. Her eyes narrowed, and then applied more pressure. James trembled. "You brought a weapon." She nudged his holster. "Why?" He gurgled. She took the note and lessened the strain, but didn't remove her foot completely. Did she not know how [i]heavy[/i] she is? "Alright," he started. "I'm sorry for what happened. I wasn't even planning to shoot anyone. I told you to tell your boss to -[i]oh god I'm sorry[/i] -" "You will talk about my mistress with respect, human." He loosened a breath as the foot slackened. "I told you to tell your mistress, to stop. C'mon! I only turned just to scare her, and when you tackled me I panicked, and then you were smashing me, what do you expect? I had to fight back, and I didn't even shoot in the end, and damn, can I also say you tackle like a beast, I think you -" "Silent yourself," It took a second for the realisation that it was simply a mistake in her grammar to dawn on him. The urge to smirk wasn't there. That annoyed him. "You have desecrated the terms placed upon you as you entered the ship. Bringing a weapon is punished by the cutting of all fingers and the removal of the jaws. Threatening a matron is execution and an act of war." [i]Oh hell...[/i] "Hey, I didn't know there were official rules talking about that stuff, there should be some board saying so, so how would I even know?" He was beginning to blather. Huraii shifted her weight. "Why did you bring a weapon on board?" she asked again. "Insecurity..." She sniffed. "Well, I was feeling a bit insecure, y'know? What'd you expect? You guys did kill my parents, and we have been at war for twenty-odd years, so I would say my decision was reasonable?" He coughed. "I'm still really sorry right, and I'm regretting it pretty badly, as you can see clearly, and you didn't have to pulverise my wrist -" "Silent. You talk too much." "Hey, I don't know about your culture and all, but I assure you this aint our declaration of war. I didn't know, and for us we have nothing like similar to this, and really, I hope your race doesn't take this as a provocation to fight us all over again, and really, I'm sorry, and -" [i]"Quiet."[/i] [Edited on 06.21.2012 11:03 PM PDT]