The long way up the ramp
> She snapped a few photos of the ship before picking up her stuff and
> struggling towards boarding the ship.
Imdaewen had managed to struggle about halfway to the boarding ramp
before a distracted, abstracted Mark McJohn collided with her while
he had his head turned around to see if somebody was following him.
In any event, both of them ended up on the ground.
"Sorry," McJohn said. "Are you alright?"
Imdaewen looked over at McJohn. "Yes, mostly," she said as she tried
to untangle herself from the pile of bags she had become ensnared in.
"Would you like some help with those?" McJohn asked.
"Oh, why not."
McJohn grabbed a couple of the larger bags and slung them over his
shoulder casually. Then he winced as he discovered just how heavy
they were. The weight nearly caused him to fall over sideways, but he
managed to steady himself just in time. After partially regaining a
casual posture, he looked at Imdaewen again.
"Haven't we met before?" he asked.
"No." she replied.
"That's what I thought, but I just thought I'd make sure."
"Yeah, OK, whatever you say." Imdaewen started to walk off towards
the Dwarf. McJohn steadied himself again and followed her.
"What's your name anyway?" he asked, trying to restart a conversation
which really would have been better served had it been taken out and
shot.
"Imdaewen. What's yours?"
"Mark. Mark McJoooaahh!" The weight of the bags he was carrying had
caused him to swerve to the right until he grabbed onto a parked
transport cart to steady himself. He caught a glimpse of Imdaewen
looking at him. She looked rather unimpressed, and McJohn wasn't at
all surprised.
"McWhat?" she asked.
"McJohn. Mark McJohn."
They started walking again.
"So what exactly do you do, Imdawam--"
"Imdaewen," she corrected.
He tried again, but it came out sounding closer to "Indaewin," and
she corrected him once more. His third, fourth and fifth attempts met
with an equal lack of success.
"Look," McJohn said finally, "can I just call you Annie?"
"Why Annie?" she asked.
"Why not?"
"It's not my name."
"Well I can't pronounce your name."
"Why not? Are you drunk?"
"Usually, yes. But right now I'm sober. Mostly."
They were now standing on the boarding ramp, halfway to the Dwarf's
entry port. Imdaewen looked at McJohn, then at the ship.
"Is everyone on this ship like you?" she asked.
"I've got an idea," replied McJohn, who had been busy thinking about
something else, and thus missed Imdaewan's question
altogether, "What's your last name?"
"Radella."
"Radella. OK, that's lovely."
"You didn't answer my question."
"What question?"
"Is everyone on this ship like you?"
It was a simple enough question, but McJohn couldn't even begin to
think of a simple answer. He managed to say "Well, umm..." before
realizing that he wouldn't be able to follow those two words up with
anything approaching a coherent answer. Since he did feel like he
needed to say something, he mumbled the words "in a way, they sort of
kinda are maybe yes possibly."
At that point, his knees gave out and he fell down again. The two
heavy bags ended up sitting atop his back, holding him down. He
groaned slightly. Imdaewen stared at him, rather dumbfounded. One of
the ship's technicians happened to be coming down the ramp at the
same time. He tipped his hat to Imdaewen, then looked over at McJohn.
"Hello McJohn," he said.
"Hi Urquhart," McJohn said.
The technician walked off, leaving McJohn still underneath the pile
of bags and Imdaewen even more confused and bewildered than before.