OOC: Quick and dirty, since everybody lese seems to have some kind of blog post as an intro. But it should give you an idea of what you're dealing with. :)

The repeller nodes kicked up an oblong wave of gravel as the grav car braked hard and stopped in the circular driveway of the estate. The mansion, done in modern style but retaining an elegance from colonial times, sat like a old man in an easy chair in the middle of the forested acreage. It was dark, even with the exterior torch effects lit up, as if it found the moonlight an unwelcome bother.

It wasn't the only one. Before the gravity well dissipated fully the vehicle's driver was already jumping out and down out of his door. The dust from the driveway clung to the shine of his black shoes as he trotted up the wide stone stairs of the grand main entrance. He passed between the thick, strong pentagonal columns with their patterened etchings and then through the doors without bothering to ring or knock.

The security system knew him, as did the servant. "Good evening, Master Bo--"

"Where is he?" interupted the agitated guest.

"In the study," was the servant's answer, but the guest was already moving before he finished.

The door to the study burst open and Lawrence Bourne Jr., Senator and Chairman and majority shareholder of Bourne Intergalactic LLC, looked up from an open folder on his desk to see who had violated his privacy without so much as a warning.

"Lawrence," he sighed both as a greeting and a lament.

"Hello, father. How are you?" Lawrence Bourne III's exterior did not match his interior. He was wearing black dress pants and shoes, with a white dinner jacket and black bow tie, as befit someone of his stature during an evening of dinner and casino-hopping. Inside he wore panic, barely concealed.

"I'm fine, thank you, now what is--"

"That's great, Dad. Really. I need one hundred thousand credits or this cheap book maker is going to put the hurt to me. Bit of a bad gamble, I'm afraid. I'll need it right now, but a check is as good as cash in this case." He drew a platinum cigarette case out of his jacket and went through the ritual of lighting a smoke to try and conceal his state of mind while explaining this latest indiscretion.

The senior Bourne leaned back in his large leather chair and studied his son with a mixture of disgust and thoughtfulness.

"No."

Lawrence III's head jerked back as if he'd been struck.

"No?"

"No."

A pause. "Did you say 'no'?"

"I said no."

Another pause. "You said 'no'."

"That's right."

"Um...perhaps you didn't understand me, ah, father. You see, I need one hundred thousand credits by midnight tonight, or else a very large man named Stu is going to break my kneecaps with a tuning fork. And apparently that's some odd kind of foreplay, but in any event I need that money."

Lawrence Jr. shook his head slowly. "No."

More pausing. "But..."

Lawrence III looked about the study as if expecting some kind of studio audience.

"But...Dad, look, this is our thing, you know? I get in trouble and you bail me out because it's cheaper than the embarassment."

"No, not this time, I'm afraid." The elder Bourne shook his head once again and relaxed into his chair. "This time you're on your own."

"What?!"

"You've been nothing but a disappointment to your mother and I since you were a teenager No, the years of enabling your increasingly embarassing and expensive habits are over."

Lawrence III flailed for something to say. He came up with, "But it's worked so well up until now."

"I'm sorry, Lawrence." The father opened a lacquer box at the corner of his desk and retrieved a smoke of his own.

The son took a step forward, turned, turned back. "Dad, these people are going to break my legs."

Lawrence Jr. by now had lit his cigar and exhaled. "Yes, I understand that. Hopefully, some time in the future, you'll take a real lesson in responsibility from this affair. And until then, well, you'll have to get your pants tailored a bit wider, I guess."

"What?!"

"There is one thing I might do for you," Lawrence Jr. demurred, " gesturing to a file on his desk. "There's a ship leaving Midgard on a spot of Bourne Intergalactic business. It won't be returning for quite some time. I suppose I could arrange for your addition to the crew."

"Leave Midgard? Are you serious?"

"Well, it's either that or take your chance with Stu, I suppose. Here's the data on the ship. It leaves tonight, so you better get packing."

Lawrence III stepped forward and snatched the lifeline for what it was. He pointed with it at his father.

"You, sir, are a douchebag. Best to Mum." And he strode out.

The Senator closed the file and leaned back in his chair, contemplating the odd state of affairs. He'd spent the evening trying to figure out how to break the news to an old friend that his urgent request for help would be unanswered by the Bourne family. And then in walks his ridiculous son and hands him exactly what he needed.

Such is fate, he supposed. His son would provide the help requested. And if not, well, at least he could say he tried.

The possibilities that his son might succeed and perhaps grow into a real man or fail and die badly seemed equally remote. But who knew?