Docking Area - Deck Four - Sky Plex
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More of a wide, central corridor than an actual room, the docking area is simply an open space which connects the various airlock umbilicals to the station. Cargo areas are marked on the floor along the sides where deliveries for the various shops and restaurants can be left, making the room a bit crowded when multiple shipments arrive at once. Towards the central core of the station two elevators lead up to the three main concourses, one for passengers and another restricted and set aside for freight. At the opposite end is a lounge area for people to wait for arriving and departing ships.
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[Emma]
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Waves of straw-blond hair haphazardly pulled back into a loose ponytail leaves random strands dangling in a disheveled manner around a clean, attractive face with a thin, straight nose, strong jaw, a wide, toothy mouth between full pink lips, and deep brown eyes. Beyond the flush of youth, a few crowsfeet spiderweb from the corners of the woman's eyes and her tanned complexion and light splash of sun-coaxed freckles tells of years in the open sun, but the smoothness of her soft skin and general lack of creases tends to hide the years she has behind her.
Fit and firm, and slightly under average height, she has a womanly, long limbed physique. Full, well proportioned hips and round buttock, a slender waist and flat stomach, and high, ample breasts make up the woman's attractive, curvaceous figure, while long, shapely legs and slender arms complete the picture.

The square yoke and collarless neck of the womans well worn, white muslin blouse exhibits the casualness of her attire, the buttonless, half-placket front flapping open, indifferent to its indiscriminate exposure of her firm, ample cleavage. The loose, flowing sleeves, however, are laced at the long, close fitting cuffs to insure a snug fit around her wrists and forearms, belying a care to keep her long fingered hands unhindered. Tan canvas pants, soft from wear, are nicely fitted to womanly hips and thighs, flaring out to accomidate a pair of well worn, brown leather 'cowboy' boots with a classic, Western style 'underslung' heel. Slung low around her full hips is a well oiled leather cartridge belt filled with shotgun shells - devoid of ornamentation, it is a working tool and nothing more.
A chestnut colored riding duster of battered canvas is either worn or near at hand, depending upon the particulars of the moment, and a brown felt, pinched front cowboy hat, the four inch brim rolled up on the sides, sits either nearby or on her head.
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Cole steps off a transport shuttle, a mildly confused look on his features as he glances around at all the lively activity of the comers and goers around the Plex.

Emma comes out of the lounge, a drink in hand as she surveys the surroundings, and attempts to stay out of the way of the busyness of the docking bay.

The herding of the people from one spot to another steers Cole in Emma's general direction, bringing his eyes in almost direct contact with her glass. Looking up, he grins at her. "What is that?" he wonders. "It looks good."

Emma looks to the boy, who really can't be much smaller than she is, and smiles. "It's called whiskey, and its ... strong. Doesn't taste as sweet as it look." She glances around the general vicinity. "Your parents around?" She asks.

Cole shakes his head. "Not less'n someone's doin' a seance 'round here," he counters easily enough, gesturing around. "Got a business thing someplace called Rick's, don't right know where that is."

Emma listens, nods her head a bit and her natural smile fades. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to bring anything bad up." She tilts her head a bit. "Ricks? I think I remember seeing it around someplace. We can look together," glancing at her glass. "'bout time for a refill anyway. Um, they gonna let you in there?" She asks.

"Don't see as how they wouldn't," Cole retorts, "long'n as my associate's willin' t'put up coin for me. Ain't no one passes up money over some dumb age or appearance thing, not these days."

Emma grins and nods. "Well, that's a fact, I suppose. We should go about finding Ricks for ya, shouldn't we?" She glances around a bit. "What kind of business you got at a place like that ... if'n you don't mind me asking?"

Cole smirks at Emma. "I do, in fact," he tells her, though not unkindly. "Not that I'd much care, cept'n it's not my business to talk about, per se, and I wouldn't want to discuss things that might be sensitive to clients." He starts slowly walking in a random direction, looking for signage. "Name's Cole, by the way."

Emma walks along with the boy, taking a sip of her drink. "Missus Emma Sue Bendis." She responds with a nod. "And I understand 'bout your business. Just seems ... unusual is all." Pausing at the elevator, she tilts her head. "Ricks was on a different level, if'n I recall correctly. Haven't been actually out and about on the station all that long." She smiles a bit.

"Where ya from?" Cole asks conversationally.

Emma thinks for a moment. "Most recently, or where was I born?" She asks, then answers both questions, "Spent most of my life on Bernadette, but most recently spent time on Shadow ... and even more recently, the freighter Hai Feng." She looks to the boy. "How 'bout you?"

Cole smirks. "I'm a space brat," he tells her, a semblance of pride in his voice. "Nonterrestrially birthed, as they put on the certificates. I grew up on Londinum, though." Gesturing to his prepubescent frame, he amends, "Well... 'grew' might not be a fittin' word for it."

Emma smiles half crookedly. "You aint as short as others I've seen, besides," she leans in a bit and lowers her voice as if to tell a secret, "size is over-rated by most people." She straightens up then. "Londinum? Thats the core of the core! Musta been a heck of an upbringing, huh?"

Cole nods his agreement. "Food on every plate, a roof over every head, sadness is practically illegal." He smirks. "I used to love the way the moons' light would sparkle against the Spires of Justice when they were positioned in just the right spots to hit on both sides..." He shrugs. "But I ain't been back there in some years now. Was shippin' out with the P'ang Che 'til just recently."

Emma tilts her head a bit, "Closest I ever got to the core was Persephone, a couple times with my husband." Rapid change of subject, then, "The P'ang Chi? I think I've heard of that ship, has it been in the news recently?"

Cole nods solemnly. "Right after I left it," he elaborates. "They done got theyselves jumped, Alliance ship got hit trying t'save 'em. Right figure I got off just in time."

Emma nods a bit. "Right. Pirates they said. Only I don't know of no pirates could take out an Alliance ship like that ..." She thinks for a moment, and the lift seems to take forever. "There's stairs here, too, if'n this takes too long ... why'd you leave the P'ang Che?" She asks, looking at the whiskey in her glass, maybe a couple swigs left, and offers it to the boy. "You gonna try this stuff, be sure you're careful about it."

Cole gets in the lift (really!), and, noting the sign that indicates Rick's place is on Concourse B, gives that button a push. He swings the whiskey in such a way that betrays he's no stranger to alcohol, but the taste startles him anyway, only self-control keeping him from falling down to cope. "Whew! Strong. Thanks."

Emma smiles at the boy and seems to take it all in stide. "If'n this is an important meeting, I wouldn't advise alot of that stuff. It's good stuff though, huh? That brand is imported from the Core." She waits in the elevator with the boy until the lift reaches Concourse B. "I hope you don't mind the company to Rick's?"