What Fresh Hell

After meeting with Leo in the waiting room, the remainder of the experience was rather lackluster. Lawrence was grateful that they were not after him, but knew their methods and knew what would happen next.

Returning to his room, he was met with his worst nightmare. His tidy case was now a disaster, his clothes and other items deemed unimportant strewn across the room and trampled.

Syringes and empty glass vials were either gone or shattered, their remains crunching under his shoes.

What hit the worst was his personal supplies. The lock appeared to have been beaten off, what materials that had lay within now gone.

Years of collecting.

Wasted.

With rage fuming within, Lawrence went on the warpath, slamming his door and searching for the one who had gotten him onboard this wreck of shit.

Storming through the ship, his lack of knowledge on the layout meant he had a few minutes before he met anyone. In that time he calmed his nerve and thought about his situation.

While he would still demand compensation for his lost goods, doing so like a frothing beast would only gain him a swift kick in the ass. At best.

At last, he saw someone he knew to be on the crew. The punk with the mohawk.

“Excuse me, sir? With the ship in its current state and the passengers frazzled, I was hoping you could enlighten me on how you lot would compensate us for our stolen and damaged belongings?”

Vas was deep in the cortex and he had been dealing with the odd passenger with this or that request. “Nothing was stolen ... “ Vas said in a tired line he had been saying to everyone who thought he was an easy mark for complaints. “ … if anything had been confiscated as a suspicious item but you believe it was not please fill out this request form. If anything was broken please fill out this complaint form, if you’re seeking compensation please fill out THIS form and an Alliance officer will contact you within 30 days of receiving said paperwork. Would you like hard copies or have them sent to your cortex?” He asked finally looking up. “Oh … Dr. Charcoal, I mean … Chakel.”


Charcoal? Charcoal?? By the Verse, that little nuisance will make him break

"I have no need for a request form. I have a log of all my medicines and ingredients, many of which were very expensive. Thankfully I was left with my money, so that will not be an issue in the matter. However, it would indeed be a delight if you lot had connections to a Mycroftan lily, of which the trip alone is a hefty sum."

Taking a deep breath to lower his tone, he kept telling himself to not use a more colorful vocabulary.

"I can verify that much of my medical practices are now ruined because of the ‘confiscations’ and it is on your heads."

“Like I said Dr. Chakel, you have to fill out these forms, send them to the address listed and the Alliance will contact you to return or replace your goods. Since you have an accurate record to prove what is yours, make sure a copy is sent of anything you want back. Hopefully, that will shorten the time for you to get your items back … hard copy or digital copy?” The Crew Chief asked putting the file package to send or print for the Doctor. “Just so you know digital will be faster.”

The boy recited this all like a small town play, clearly tired of each word. Even if he did send in a report, he was not about to believe that each item would be compensated for.

"And will the Alliance compensate me for my exclusive collection? There are several items that are no longer available for purchasing due to rarity or legal protection. Forgive me for saying, but I highly doubt that those items will be returned or paid for." His neck had begun to bulge, accompanied by his hands curling into fists.

“I would include the estimated value for such items and the proof of exception that allowed you to cultivate, sample, and transport such goods. At least then you would receive monetary compensation. I can also get you a copy of the itinerary if we are close to anywhere to where you acquired your rare goods, pending proof of …” The punk checked his paperwork. “ … proof of exemption. I’m sure Riley can be convinced to make a stop for you. If the item was legally acquired then there should not be a problem.” Vas reminded cooly.

Well, this little twerp had a response to everything. Who knew how long it would take to reacquire everything. Taking a deep breath and smoothing his hair, Lawrence gave a quick, polite smile.

"Right. Thank you for your help and an itinerary would be most appreciated. I will be sure to speak to Ms. Riley when given the chance."

He made to leave, but was reminded of his room’s current state.

"Last inquiry, is there a member of the crew that cleans the rooms or are we to do that ourselves?”

“Getting the guest rooms in order is being given top priority. Serena is working on that now, as soon as we take off Chavez will pitch in as well, Elle will will join in as soon as she is available and as soon I get this paperwork done, I will join in myself.” Vas explained assuring the man. “Did you want a digital or hard copy?”

Serena.... What fresh hell this day had turned out to be.

It took a few moments for the white flame of rage to be quenched to a sociable degree, giving the two an awkward silence. In his current turmoil, it felt like all of Lawrence's strength went into sounding normal.

"Digital, if you wouldn't mind. I apologize for my temper and thank you for your help."

Vas all but waved it off. He wasn't the first nor the last. "I'll send it to your cortex. Anything else I can help you with?"

“That will be all.”

Forgoing any parting gesture, Lawrence turned to find his way back. If luck would shine upon him once today, she would not be at his room when he eventually found it.

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