Ask Black Dogs Barking

[Nakoa Singh]

The Wrean raised an eyebrow. Crow's age was indeterminable from his perspective so he just went with it. Seemed fit enough to Nakoa. He kinda just shrugged.

"Yes. I have other areas of interest." There was a pause, during which Nakoa blinked. "But for work? No. It's challenging." He tried to eat a piece of jerky from a ration pouch but his still-semi-numb fingers betrayed him and it fell to the floor. Singh mourned this monumental loss in silence.

"If we're damned either way, may as well make barbeque. Yes?" He chuckled at his own choice of words and carried on walking. Somewhere out in the night, animals howled and nocturnal birds called out, but there didn't seem to be any obvious sign of more hostile beasts. So far.

Along the way, Nakoa stopped to retrieve the other two Vornskyr corpses for reasons he failed to explain. The furs might make a nice something-or-other for someone. Yet he did find the time to ask crow, "Want one?" with no context whatsoever.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix was oblivious to The Wren’s indifference. He was too consumed by his own self-loathing to register the shrug. He was reeled in from his masochistic revelry by Singh’s voice.

Crix’s eyebrow quirked, “Like demon rituals,” he said with a wry smirk.

Now it was Crix’s turn to shrug. “Yeah, that’s it for me. I’m over challenging,” he chuckled derisively. He took a drag on his cigarra. He blew out a plume of smoke while saying, “I’d rather die with a drink in my hand and a cigarra in my lips than a bolt in the back or a maw of serrated teeth at my throat.”

Where in the hell was this coming from? Was he really this burnt out? Maybe he’d just lost motivation. It was weird going from the high of finally stealing the Onderonian Royal Jewels and the rush of pilfering the vaults of Raxus to a literal fetch quest. An idea started to form in his mind. It was nebulous, more dense smoke than fiery inspiration.

He was once again brought out of his introspection by his partner’s voice.

“That’s the idea I’ve heard all day,” he laughed.

They arrived at the original attack site and Singh started acting weird again. Well, this was less weird than the chanting and actual fucking magic, this was practical. They’d killed the animals might as well honor their death by harvesting as much as possible.

Crow frowned, “See this is what I’m talking about,” he started, looking at The Wren, “Do I want what?” he asked. He was pretty sure the guy was talking about one corpse, but the way he’d said it was so casual he could have been referring to the jerky he was eating.

“If you mean the dead dogs, no thanks, if you mean the jerky you’ve been snacking on, sure, if you’re talking about something else all together…” He just shrugged.

Crix wasn’t useless either, he might not have been interested in taking any of the Vonrskr for himself, but he’d help harvest the other animal to speed up the process. He was dying for some barbecue.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa had breezily waved a hand through the air. "Not usually demons," he'd said with the air of a man commenting on the weather. "That sounds boring." Peace was nice sometimes, but it wasn't more than another little lie in the end. A game to play before the real world came back into focus.

Cultural differences, maybe? Nakoa shrugged to himself. After picking the corpses up he turned to look at the other man, blinking once. "Dog," he clarified while turning back around and continuing on to the ship. He wasn't gonna let their bodies go to waste. They had nice fur, even. Might be enough to make something for Arla. She seemed to like fancy things.

But then he thought of something vitally important, eyebrows dropping with the sheer gravity of this next thing to consider. Nakoa glanced at Crow to ask something.

"Spicy barbeque?" Amber-gold eyes were judging him right now.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

“Dog.” Crix blinked, considered it a moment then doubled down, “Nah I’m good, thanks though.”

The Enforcer let himself drift back out into his own introspection while The Force User harvested the animals. A thought blossomed into his mind and he asked, “What do you think is harder to kill,” he nodded toward the carcass Singh was carving, “them or the Maalras from Dxun?”

Crix knew his train of thought was fucked. He wasn’t going to make any further progress with his internal struggle, not out in the sticky wet heat of this jungle surrounded by the iron tang smell of blood at least, So, he pulled out another cigrarra and lit up.

Once the Wren was done he looked to Crow with a curious expression in his eye. The look nearly made Crix drop a hand to his gun, then Singh clarified what kinda barbecue he was looking for and Crow scowled, “Well, yeah, duh, what other kind is there?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

He didn't appear to be paying Crow or his question any attention whatsoever as he handled carrying the dogs, at least for the first few seconds afterward. Singh was really just focusing on his most immediate task while thinking it over. "Maalras," had been his answer as he lifted the animals. "They can hide. These can't." A pause. "In the Force."

Since, y'know, Crow couldn't interact with that stuff.

It didn't take too long for the two to return to the makeshift basecamp Nakoa'd set up, whereupon he dumped the bodies near the foot of his ship. "Good answer." What was even the point of roasting meat if someone wasn't going to use seasoning? Nakoa liked food with some kick.

Nakoa did that thing again where he turned to look at Crow and stared for a moment. "You gonna complain if we eat these?" he dryly asked. Outlanders had this weird thing about only eating certain kinds of animals. Made no sense.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix was starting to get used to the overly zen-like quality of Singh’s participation in their conversation. Initially, he’d just assumed the guy was a dick, no biggie there, kinda went with the territory, but he was starting to realize the guy was just methodical. He didn’t seem to rush anything, he was the epitome of the phrase, ‘Measure twice cut once’ and that was something The Enforcer could appreciate.

“Wait, you can detect “things” in the force?” he asked, “Can you feel me? Ya know what, forget I asked, I don’t want to know if you’re feeling me.”

Crix chuckled at Singh’s response. Then the guy stopped what he was doing and just kinda looked(?) at Crix. The Enforcer frowned, “Is there shit on my face— Oh.” His frown deepened, taking on an appraising edge, then he shrugged, “I’ll try anything once.”

The Enforcer would wait for the force user to finish what they needed to do before they began the arduous trek back through the dense vegetation of Merkr. On the way back he considered what might be a good pairing with wild vornskr, in the end he decided a strong drink was the best answer. He could do a lot of things, but cooking wasn’t in his wheelhouse.

A short time later the pressing trees around them began to space out. They’d made it out. Crix wiped the sweat from his brow, the undulation in the bags he carried told him the little ones were starting to stir.

Great.

“You want one of the pups, yeah?” he asked. His intent would be to stow the animals before they started to relax. Last thing he needed on this job was to get killed by a playful pup.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa turned to look at Crow, lips curling with vague amusement and something like mischief. "Yeah man, I feel you," he answered in complete disregard of the man's quick change of heart. As for the pups, "I'm owed two, one of each sex." He then marched up the ramp into his ship, followed shortly after by the sounds of various things being moved around and sorted through.

He returned with two puppy cages, one large and one smaller. For the puppies, obviously. Planting it down, he opened the top of the largest for Crow to unburden himself of predatory murder puppies. Nakoa would then sort out picking his two and relocate them inside with the supplies they needed before moving on to food for Crow and himself.

Once again he'd emerge from his ship, this time shouldering a whole-ass portable charcoal barbeque and cooling box with beer in it, while a droid carried out butchery tools. "Want one?" he asked of the beer. If yes, he thumbed off the top of a bottle and handed it over before getting one himself.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow didn’t like knowing he could be felt by someone. He also didn’t like how much joy Singh seemed to take in tormenting him with the truth, but it helped pass the time.

“That’s right.” he responded, remembering their discussion earlier. Man his heart just wasn’t in this anymore. It left him feeling… displaced. What was he if he wasn’t… what he was?

The Wren returned with a crate for the poison pups and Crix was more than happy to relieve himself of the burden. A few minutes later Singh reemerged from his ship and The Enforcer found himself trying to remember when he’d seen a prettier sight. The Funky force user was carrying a grill and a cooler. In this swamp ass of a jungle it was like watching a storm cloud roll toward you on Tatooine.

“Yes, please,” Crix replied as he took the offered bottle. “Need any help?” He was shit at cooking, but he felt like an asshole just kind of standing around.

“Got anything lined up after this?” he asked.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

"No," Nakoa replied to the question of help as he plopped the grill down in an open area, just before handing over one of the beers. It was some kind of Ord Mantell lager. "But you can assist." Specifically in breaking down the animals, largely by picking up and organizing the bits and pieces they wouldn't be immediately using. Naturally, being a squeamish Outlander, Crix was offered gloves for the task. Nakoa didn't bother.

"After? I'll be processing the furs to make a gift for someone." A few seconds would pass before the Wrean piped up again, guessing that's not actually what Crow meant. "I'm never short on work with Apex. It's a good life." Much of it was planning, but Nakoa would lose their mind if they didn't go into the field themselves.

"Looking to change careers?"

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix took a swig of the offered beer, then slipped on the gloves. Why the force user chose to dig around in that dog all willy-nilly without some form of barrier wasn’t something The Enforcer would ever be able to understand, but based on what he’d seen today he had a feeling there was a lot he didn’t understand. Nearly thirty five years among the stars and Singh was the first force user—that he knew of—he’d ever been around.

Well, aside from the fucking slew of them that turned Denon into a mass grave.

Crix pulled his most delicate knife, which was still a real fucker of a blade, and went to work processing the animal.

“Oh yeah, that’s cute.” he said as his blade cleared a pass and a large swath of fur sloughed off. Knowing it was to be preserved he took the hide and hung it over a branch rather than letting it fall to the jungle floor.

“Apex? Huh, I figured you were just a freelancer. They a good outfit?” he asked. His knowledge of the relatively new organization was sparse, but he’d heard plenty of the Blue Stars chatting about them recently.

“I think about it all the time,” Crix laughed, then he shook his head. “Nah, I’m in it for the long haul, whether I want to be or not.”

Once the animal was cleaned, Crix would wash the gore from his limbs and light up another cigarra.

“What kinda rub are you using?” he asked, taking a seat at the base of a tree.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa smirked at him. "Will be when I'm done with it." That fur would be put to very good use, yes indeed. Crow didn't need the details, though, and the Wrean wasn't inclined to share.

"The best. Naturally," he replied regarding Apex. As a matter of fact, most mercenary groups didn't have Force users. That wasn't why he said they were the best, though. That part was just pride in their work and maybe just a little joke about the name. "If not career, employer?" Apex had contractors from all over. Unusually, as a human, Crow would actually be in the minority.

The Wrean thoroughly cleaned himself off after processing the animals and set up the grill, doing everything manually without the Force. A tin of mixed spices was produced from the pile of stuff he'd dragged out and presented to Crow when the other man asked about the spice rub.

It smelled spicy and vaguely of citrus and different herbs. "Nothing you'd recognize," he said bluntly. To be fair, probably no one would. It was a collection of native Wrean ingredients mixed with stuff from around the galaxy. And garlic, naturally.

Without further delay, he pat dry and seasoned the meat while the grill heated.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

”Hey, I was being serious, no need for sass,” he chuckled. Crix had no idea what the Singh planned to do with the furs, but he could imagine they’d fetch a pretty credit. These things weren’t easy to come by after all.

“Really?” responded Crix with genuine curiosity. He’d worked Freelance for years and he’d never come across an outfit he liked, much less considered the best. Maybe that was his issue. Maybe he still hadn’t accepted that his life wasn’t going to go back to normal… That his normal was exactly what he was doing right now. Hell, at this point he’d been more successful as a thief than he ever was as an Engineer.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind. I’m always looking for dependable people,” he chuckled as he draped another swath of fur over a branch, “It really is as they say, good people are hard to come by.”

Singh’s offer made Crix stop and think. He could hear Crow’s opinion from the back of his mind demanding they join up. Demanding they go to war. Demanding they kill, steal, and destroy. It was exhausting really. The Denonite lit up his last cigarrra and took a breath, “Maybe, just depends on how a couple things shake out,” he said with a roundaboutness that would match Singh’s own.

“Oh really, cause I’m human?” he shot back, actually offended. Crix might not be the best cook in the world but when it came to BBQ he didn’t know a single being alive that knew more than he did, “Fine, keep your secrets,” he said grumpily, with a smile.

The smell of the meat hitting the grill made Crix’s mouth water. He tipped back his bottle of beer and drank deep. There was something about a hot day, grilling food, and a cold beer that just sat right with Crix. This was what he wanted. Well, maybe. Oh for fuck sakes, he’d get bored of this on day two.

“How’s Apex feel about assisting an insurrection?” he asked.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

He snorted with amusement at Crow's 'human' comment. "Sort of. It's from somewhere humans can't survive." Nakoa let Crix ponder a change in employer in silence and focused on grilling meats. Meat was important stuff.

Amber-golds glanced up at Crow's insurrection question, then back down to flip the meat. Then, looked over again. Nakoa raised a hand and counted five things off. "Who, when, why, where and how much?" Frankly, Apex had no qualms over assisting any given side of any given rebellion- or insurrection, usually depending on the side being asked. But they did care about the details and compensation.

He lifted his beer to take a solid gulp of it and fished out a brown-wrapped cigarra from somewhere, which he lit with one of the grill coals, before taking a seat in his folding chair.

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

”I’ll have you know humans have procreated themselves from extinctions so many times we don’t know where we originate, but sure, the cockroach of sentient life can’t live—” Crix frowned, “ Wait, if I can’t survive there… Can I eat what comes from there?” he asked with sudden concern.

“ So, Apex is legit then. Good to know,” he mused absently while scratching at the stubble on his chin. The Blue Stars, Harken’s crew, and Apex. Would that be enough? It could be the start. Fuck, was he really considering this?

Crix tipped back his beer and took another swig. He flicked the ash from his cigarra. The smell of the meat cooking was more intoxicating than the beer. Who would have guessed exotic dog meat could smell so good?

The Enforcer lounged back in his seat and draped one leg over the other. He’d been driving the conversation for a while and figured it was about time for him to shut up for a bit. He wasn’t sure what in the hell had come over him. He normally HATED small talk.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

One of Nakoa's eyebrows rose higher and higher as Crow went off about humans surviving extinctions and being cockroaches, or something like that. The Wrean's lips curled into smirking, his expression only describable as playfully smug. "Humans eat fish, yes? Much of this," he flicked the tin of spice mix, "Is from Tethysian depths."

He didn't respond to the Apex comment other than throwing up an 'okay' hand sign and moving the meat around a bit. Wafting up from the smoke were some familiar scents. Lots of garlic, hot ginger, sweet citrus. Various foreign herbs, some kind of seaweed, fruity chili powder, and something deeply savory were also among them along with the meat itself.

Nakoa finished his beer in silence and opened another bottle.

"Know any drinking songs?"

@Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

“Well, I’m guessing this rub will have me saying Oooo- mommy!” he said. Was it a terrible joke that would probably get him killed, of course it was, did he regret it, absolutely not.

Silence fell between the two and Crix didn’t mind it. He tipped the bottle in his hand back, and as he swallowed he took a drag off his cigarra. The bouquet wafting off the grill was tantalizing. His mouth watered and his stomach sang the song of his people, ironically right as Singh asked him about drinking songs.

Crix drained the bottle and snagged another, then said, “I know a few, the better question is do you really want me to sing?” he snickered.

The Enforcer thought for a moment. He remembered an old Denon roughneck tune his dad used to sing when they worked on star ships together. The Enforcer couldn’t remember the last time he’d sung or even attempted to carry a tune, but if someone’s been nice enough to cook you food and hand you a beer you’d better pony up, and that’s exactly what he did.

Crix sat up straight, took a drag off his cigara and washed the smoke down with his beer. He cleared his throat and got after it.

“I’ve got a good woman at home…. Who thinks I do no wrong…. But sometimes, Lord, she just ain’t always around…” the words fell from his lips with the twang and rasp of a man carrying a guitar, but Crix just rocked to the rhythm, tapping out a beat on his leg with his beer. “And you know that’s when I fall, I can’t help myself at all, and I get whiskey bent and hell bound!“

As the last syllable fell from his mouth, Crix felt a sudden wash of embarrassment and covered it with a drag and a drink returning to his seat, “What about you? Got any drinking songs from somewhere I can’t survive?” he asked with a smirk.

@Mr.Teatime

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa had chuckled, clearly unoffended by the older human's joke. "Something like that," he'd added before the silence fell.
He held his arms like well, I'm waiting when Crow asked if Nakoa really wanted to sing. If he didn't want a song, why the hell would he ask? He listened to the words and tune, grinning all the while and working through his second beer. It wasn't his style, but it wasn't a bad song.

A look of mischief came upon the Wrean mercenary's face. "'Course I do. But we've the wrong drinks for it." He moved the meat off direct heat, flipping it, and closed the grill lid to get it properly smoking. Without a further word he stood and strode up his ship's ramp. A small time of clattering later he returned with a rectangular bottle of clear-white liquid and a pair of glasses.

One glass was clacked down by Crow. With a swirl of fingers, Nakoa conjured a sphere of ice from the air to place within, followed by a healthy pour of the bottle's brew- which was, of course, not labeled in Basic. Whatever it was smelled herbaceously sweet, vaguely grassy, and certainly strong. He poured himself the same and returned to his own seat.

Taking a good sip to get started, he took a slow breath and, with a grin firmly in place and a finger raised, began his song.

"Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipe and fiddle, what's hotter mustard and milder than cream?" the Wrean sang in lilting tones, obviously one used to song edging toward classically trained. "What best wets your whistle, what's clearer than crystal? What's sweeter than honey, and stronger than steam? What'll make the lame walk, what'll make the dumb talk? The elixir of life, and philosopher's stone? And what helped Sir Bruthel to build the old tunnels?" Nakoa paused to take a drink from his glass.

"Well, wasn't it whiskey from oldtown Notron?"

@Zay