Before he had signed on with Artemis, Saul Horton had been a bounty hunter. Before that, he had fought for the Independents during the War. Before that, however—before the ten year spiral of violence that had taken over his life—Saul Horton had been a chef. Had the War not interfered, Saul would probably have been headlining his own restaurant on the Core. Unfortunately, upon retiring his guns a year ago, Saul had discovered that no one was willing to hire a Browncoat who had spent the last four years hunting and killing people, no matter how much they deserved it or how good a cook he was. And he was good. That was something Artemis' new arrivals were just learning. Sir Anderson shook his head in amazement. "This is actually rather tasty." He glanced first at the muscle-bound cook, who was just taking his seat, and then at his nephew, who nodded in appreciation. "The chicken seems a little overdone, but I'm amazed one could find it at all this far from civilization." Rachel saw Saul smile. He had the nobleman exactly where he wanted him. "Can't, least not what folks are willin' to part with. 'S just packaged protein, actually." Rachel let a morsel of the Stir-Fried Protein a la Horton (Mona named all Saul's dishes for him, whether he wanted her to or not) slide down her throat and smiled. As humble as he was trying to seem, she knew this was exactly what he'd signed onto a passenger ship for in the first place. If he could catch the eye of some rich passenger, maybe he could earn a place on his staff and go back to the Core life he had been forced to abandon a decade ago. He'd tried the pitch several times before, but never on someone as rich or gullible as Sir Chen. From the gentleman's reaction, it looked as if, when the Chens got off Artemis, Saul might be going with them. Sir Anderson was still staring down at the browned "meat" on his platter, moved, for once in his life, to speechlessness. It was Doctor Chen who finally spoke for him. "That's incredible. I never thought anyone could make that Blue Sun shu se taste like actual food." When the young doctor said that, Rachel's eyes narrowed and she spared him a second glance. He might have looked like a Coreworlder, but he certainly swore like a frontiersman. The old man obviously didn't approve. "Leopold, language." Leo's chummy smile faded, and his eyes flitted ashamedly to his plate. "Sorry, bo." He glanced around the table. "Sorry, everyone." Rachel glared at the old man. He certainly had the boy on a tight leash. "It's fine, really. This ain't exactly the floor of Parliament." Leo smiled up at her, just a little. Sir Anderson frowned. No one spoke for the next few bites. Finally, Mariah cleared her throat. "So, you're from Osiris?" Sir Anderson and Leopold both looked up at the mousy mulatto woman. The older nobleman cleared his throat. "Well yes, but…I don't recall…" Dex piped in. "Mariah's…real good with accents. She knew I was from Beaumonde few minutes after we met." Leo's focus shifted from the young woman to the red-headed man seated next to her. "So, then, you two are…" He didn't have to finish the sentence. As soon as he made the implication, Dex and Mariah's eyes shifted into each other's then, upon meeting, quickly back down to their plates with a series of nervous coughs. Mariah shook her head uncertainly, and Dex made a sound that could probably be interpreted as a 'no.' Rachel sighed. She was used to Dex melting at the knees around womenfolk, but she imagined the dilettante must have had plenty of experience with fawning admirers. The way the doctor was staring at her practically spoke to that. He cleared his throat. "So, Miss Boleyn, what, uh…what do you do on board? Other than…guess peoples' birthplaces?" "She ain't crew. She's a passenger," Rachel cut in a little more pointedly than she'd intended. Mariah tightened her lips and looked back down at her plate. Dex shot Rachel a glance that said 'Come on, play nice.' Rachel sighed. It wasn't that she didn't like Mariah, she just found it a bit presumptuous how she always acted like she was part of the crew. That didn't happen until Captain Rachel Wu said it did. The ensuing silence was even longer. Finally, after what seemed like an interminable length of time, Sir Anderson turned back to Saul. "I'm curious, Mr. Horton, how a chef of your ability ended up in a, well, shall we say 'rustic' environment such as this." Saul was about to feed him the standard story he told people he didn't see fit to inform about his politics, when a rap on the door frame drew all six pairs of eyes to the aft corridor. When those eyes met the sight, Rachel's rolled, Dex's and Mariah's flitted back to stare intently at their plates, Saul's narrowed, and the new guests' bugged practically out of their skulls. Daphne flashed a grin and sauntered toward the table. "Sorry I'm late, but I heard we had some new faces and I wanted to make a good first impression. I hope I'm not overdressed." Rachel glared at the Companion's rather flimsy interpretation of the word 'overdressed' as she slid in next to Leo, on whom she immediately began to make as good a first impression as she could with other people present. Rachel smiled bitterly. "I doubt anyone'd say that." She turned her focus to Sir Anderson and his increasingly confused nephew. "This is Daphne Penn. She's a Companion, rents one of our shuttles. If you ever need her for anything, all you have to do is ask." Rachel took a sip of canned milk from her tin cup and muttered, "If that." Daphne shot her a look of mock pain. Rachel ignored it. "Daphne, these are Sir Anderson Chen and his nephew Leopold. They'll be flyin' with us for a while." As if it was the first time it had occured to him, Dex perked up from his plate. "Yeah, uh, exactly where're you bound, don't mind my pryin'?" Sir Anderson shrugged. "Just wanted to get away from the Core for a while. Stretch our legs, as it were." Rachel nodded, entirely unsatisfied. "Funny, folk like yourself don't often take to a vessel such as this. I mean, there's tour liners and the like…" Sir Anderson shrugged. "We have…an interest in going unnoticed." "Don't we all." Rachel's eyes flicked to the opposite side of the table where the good doctor squirmed between arousal and terror at whatever it was Daphne was doing with her feet under the table. "Well, most of us anyways." Leo was growing very uncomfortable, both with the direction of the conversation and with the direction of the Companion's leg. He cleared his throat. "Tell me, Miss Penn…I, uh…that is, one certainly doesn't expect to find a registered Companion this far out into the Black." "Please, call me Daphne," she cooed. "Anyway, I decided the Core didn't appreciate my style. Thought I'd try my luck out here." Rachel smiled bitterly. "And she certainly is trying." Daphne shot Rachel a look that as obviously designed to make her blush. "Oh, now Rachel, don't you try to spoil my reputation just so you can have me all to yourself." Dex flinched as Rachel pushed back from the table and flung to her feet. "It's Captain, and I'm thinkin' maybe you should get back to the Longbow. There's people here tryin' to eat." Daphne smiled acerbically and pushed herself back from the low dinner table, bending down to press a whisper against Leopold's ear. "Stop by when you get tired of Captain Hur Bao Duhn and I'll make sure you learn somethin' new." Daphne turned and swept majestically out of the room, leaving a collection of confused headshakes and relieved sighs in her wake. Sir Anderson squinted. "What exactly is her style?" Dex frowned. "Indiscriminate." The elder Chen shook his head. "Certainly not what I expected from a Companion, even this far out." Leo blinked, his panic finally starting to ease down to a simmer. "Captain, what did she mean about—" Rachel was out of the room before he finished the sentence, storming toward the crew quarters as forcefully as a 115 pound woman could. For the second time that evening, Mariah was the one to break up the awkward silence. "I think I'm going to get to bed." Dex stumbled over himself getting up as she did. "Oh, here, uh…let me, uh…walk you to your room." Mariah smiled and blushed. Leo pushed back and nudged his uncle. "Oh, we'll come with you. We still need to finish unpacking." As the large group moved aft toward the stairs, Saul shook his head, looked around at the dirty dishes littering the table, and decided they'd still be there in the morning. With that, he pushed up from the table, left for his quarters, and bumped into Mona coming the other way. She shot him an overly friendly smile and squeezed past into the kitchen. "All right, we got a course for Paquin, now what's for supp—" Mona blinked, glanced around at the empty dining room, blinked again, then looked back at Saul. "Did I miss something?"