OGENUS EARTH 🌎 🌊 {Dystopian Sci-Fi Adventure}

If I Go, I'm Goin'

Harrison watched Mrs. Marrow's pert rump as she sashayed out of the room to fetch a pitcher of water. Her silk-clad muscles bounced pleasingly in time with her stride, hinting at the perfection beneath.

Mr. Marrow was preoccupied with the innocuously tarnished box Harrison and Big Joe had just hand-delivered. The man seemed nearly crazed, constantly folding and then unfolding his frail fingers until Harrison produced the item from the lined pocket inside the calf of his boot.

"This is really it!" Mr. Marrow breathed, his milky eyes lit up like an eel with its prey in range.

Big Joe couldn't reconcile the image of this pasty old windbag on top of the cute young woman coming back from the kitchen. The sweat droplets clinging to the pitcher had somehow rubbed off on her chest in transit, marking exactly where a man's eye shouldn't drift in front of her husband.

Mrs. Marrow bent over at an appealing angle to pour each glass, using the opportunity to sneak a wanton glance at Harrison. He met her easy smirk with one of his own. The lack of challenge in this situation lessened the thrill of the risk, but he felt a pinch in his groin nonetheless.

Harrison ran an impatient hand through his wavy hair, too many months at sea had left him a little shaggy, but he was beginning to like the scruff. "So, do we have a deal?"

Mr. Marrow looked up from his precious toy with a squint. "Do you even know what this is?"

"Don't know, don't care," Harrison remarked, leaning forward in his chair. "All I'm concerned with is payment."

"Yes, yes, you'll get your sordid credits." Mr. Marrow stroked the box with a tenderness that should be reserved for the company of a beautiful woman. "Seems so crude to attach a monetary sum to a priceless memory, wouldn't you agree?"

Big Joe couldn't stand this sort of mindless prattle. He knew the old fart was going to try to cheap out on them. 

To distract himself, Big Joe decided to take a tour of the spacious sunken living room. He perused the shelves lining the walls, pausing when he saw something that caught his fancy.

There were many knickknacks, sizable and slight, some with sparkling exteriors and others with intricate arrangements of rare materials. The occasional oiled canvas peppered amongst the shelves of 'rescued' treasures was indicative of the credits it took to traffic these valuable ornaments.

Mr. Marrow kept a keen eye on the massive mariner as he plodded about uninvited. He felt impugned, the fact that this spoilt brat masquerading as swarthy sea captain had brought his muscle along with him, was as threatening as it was insulting.

"Depends on who's sellin'," Harrison shrugged with a grin. "In this case, that hunk of metal is worth five hundred credits."

"Five hundre-" Mr. Marrow couldn't finish the sum, his eyes swelling in shock. "That's not what was discussed! You criminal! Do you think you can just up the price now that I know you have it?"

"Yes," Harrison blinked, watching the flaccid pile of bones squirm with a relaxed smile. "I thought that part was obvious."

"This is robbery and I won't have it! Oh no, please don't touch that!"

Mr. Marrow hopped up with the spring of a much younger man to intercept Big Joe before he could mangle the delicately spun glass lamb he was meaning to pick up.

"That's very rare, I'll have you know!" Mr. Marrow's chiding resembled a child's tantrum.

"Fine, then I'll take it back to where I found it," Harrison replied snatching back Mr. Marrow's long-lost treasure from where he'd left it. "You can negotiate a better price with someone else."