Supply And Demand
D'Mar Otell, sole proprietor of D'Mar's Digital Delights, scowled down at the vid chip that glinted unsolicited upon his counter top.
"Sebacean, you say..." he ventured.
"Hmmm..."
"Sorry," Otell shook his head and used two stubby fingers to slide the silver piece back across the counter's scarred surface. "Not interested."
The erstwhile seller silently retrieved his chip but rather than tucking it away, he slotted it into the portable vid player that rested in his lap and activated the unit.
"Look, I said I wasn't interested," Otell reiterated, flicking a bored glance at the scene unscrolling in mid-air. "You've seen one Sebacean fr...oh my." He leaned forward, eyes wide. "Oh my..."
"Ah...well", the other sighed gustily. "If you're not interested."
The recording snapped off, leaving Otell staring blankly at empty air for several microts until the sound of his front door powering open pulled him back.
"Wai..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Wait friend!" he called toward the small back disappearing through the exit.
The other about-faced and raised a skeptical brow. "Yes?"
"Yes. Perhaps I..." Otell tripped around the waist-high counter, "...spoke in haste."
"Indeed?" The one word reply dripped doubt.
"Oh yes." Otell knotted his fingers together and smiled his most sincere smile. "I assure you, honored customer, I am most interested. Please..." He waved an expansive hand. "Let us...deal."
"Is that the last of it?" A warm breath tickled her ear and even warmer hands settled on her waist as she stretched to place the package in the top-most storage compartment.
Aeryn tipped a smile over her shoulder. "Yes," she replied, sealing the compartment and turning to face Crichton.
John looked around Talyn's small galley, noting how the storage bins brimmed with fresh supplies. "Spanky did good," he allowed, fingertips absently ghosting up and down Aeryn's bare arms. "Real good." He shook his head and chuckled.
"What?" she asked curiously, looking for the cause of his amusement.
Still shaking his head, he caught her around the waist and lifted her onto the edge of the counter.
He reached past her and picked up a piece of purple fruit he knew was her favorite. "Kinda makes you wonder what he used to pay for all this stuff."
She gave him a wry smile and steered the hand holding the fruit toward her mouth. "We probably don't want to know," she said before leaning forward to take a bite and then share the taste.
Rygel sat at a surveillance console, a substantial tray of munchables close to hand.
"Body breeders," he snorted in disgust around his mouthful of food and checked to see that the unit was recording. "Going to make me a frelling fortune."