"Apologies for interrupting, but what is the cause for such violence? Is it so blind and indirect that you have no need for people of tact and wisdom, like Mr. Winters?"
Nathan gave a small nod in Tao's direction, in acknowledgement of his support. A rather smaller nod than he might otherwise have done. It was that Nathan did not appreciate someone whom he had had such a brief introduction with standing up for him. In fact, he was rather touched. The problem was that the way in which Tao had chosen to stand up was not particularly helpful to Nathan. He wasn't sure how much Tao knew, nor how much of the whole story he himself was aware of, but what Nathan did know was that he was in as much need of all this 'blind and indirect violence' as Mr. Smythe was, should Nathan ever have a hope of reaching Namako alive.
"Well, Mr. Smythe..." Nathan began, hoping against hope that his nerves would not betray him at such a crucial moment. "I may not be a native to this land, but I do possess some considerable skill in Geography, Geology and Navigation. Those skills could have certain tactical implementations. Should we, for example, ever need to divert from our preferred path, away from dangers, I may be able to puzzle out safe detours over terrain that might otherwise seem impassable." Now might have seemed like a good time to share a few anecdotes out one expedition to the Andes mountains 3 years ago, but Nathan felt the need to score as many potential points as possible before someone shot him down. "Should we ever need to communicate with others who either cannot, or do not care to, speak the local tongue, I am fluent in 10 different languages, and passable in several more. I could act as a translator. Also, now, I won't claim to be a doctor, but I have in my travels had to learn how to deal with fatigue and injury, both in myself and in others, and sometimes in very harsh conditions with limited resources."
While other people were still talking around him, Nathan had so far managed to make himself heard above all of them, and still no-one had interrupted him or thrown him bodily from the establishment. Growing more confident that he might be on to a winner, Nathan smiled and continued on."
"Practical skills are not all I offer though." he told Mr. Smythe, a glint of his excitable passion appearing in his eyes, that always transpired when he began to talk about his greatest passion. "You see, I am also something of a travelling bard, or poet, or novelist. It varies really, but the point is that I can provide something that may be more valuable than all the swords you could wish for. In every town and village along our way I can tell tales of your heroism, your courage and your righteousness, and thereby win more blades to your cause. I can make people great and small follow you with pride and fervor in their hearts. When we reach more populous areas, perhaps somewhere with a port, I can spread my tales of this daring quest, and the noble fellowship who guide its course far and wide. I can make an entire nation look to you in hope, if you would have it of me; and when this story is done, I can make it so that, hundreds of generations and thousands of years from now, your character remains true and your cause remains just."
Nathan spread his hand for dramatic emphasis, now positively beaming.
"That is what I offer most of all! Immortality, Mr. Smythe. Immortality, for you, and for every man and woman who follows you!"
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"Apologies for interrupting, but what is the cause for such violence? Is it so blind and indirect that you have no need for people of tact and wisdom, like Mr. Winters?"
"Ah, shut yer piss-hole!" Bashir growled roughly "Any more talk like that's gonna make me sober, and you don't wanna be around me when I'm hungover."
"Sir, my name is Kaneko, I will be present at this inn for the day, and will most likely be staying overnight, should you require my services."
"Does that go for the troops as well?" he sniggered. "I got plenty of 'services' in mind for you! You can start right now if you like."
Bashir had never bedded anyone with only one arm before. The prospect intrigued him. He wondered if perhaps learning to get by with just one might make a woman more... dexterous, with her fingers. He's be anxious to try it out. It wasn't as if scars bothered him either, or else he wouldn't have so many himself. He might even let her give him a few more, he thought, just for the price of letting him try her out for the night.
"That is what I offer most of all! Immortality, Mr. Smythe. Immortality, for you, and for every man and woman who follows you!"
There was a pause after the bookish one finished his long-winded justification for his existence. Silence fell, and then was quickly broken again when Bashir gave a most almighty howl of mirth
"pfffffffffffffffffffttHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!!!!" he exclaimed, tears welling up in his eyes as he slapped the table once, twice, and then thrice. "Oh... oh Godpffthahahahahaha! I like this one! Fuck me, that was good! I'd let you tag along that's for sure. I might even lift Red Elinor in your defense if you stay that funny. If you didn't though, I'd be inclined to cut your tongue out with her!"
He threw back his head again and laughed at his own joke.
