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[Dr Ilana Morata]

Each emotion flickering through was hardly a surprise. Dully, she wondered why, when he felt such regret, that he didn't just turn away and walk off. But at his words, she blinked, arms tightening around herself. She felt cold, numb, but not numb enough to withstand pity.. but then he spoke her name again. Not many even bothered remembering her first name, and his words surprised her. She thought she was past surprises already. But as his statement she swallowed hard, shoulders slumping. "I'm not," she protested weakly. It meant to come out strong, a statement of self-assurance, but it sounded more like flat denial.

For the first few moments of the hug her shoulders stiffened, along with her back, gritting her jaw and feeling a spike of resentment, of anger. It burned in the back of her throat and just for a beat, she considered shoving him away and stalking off. She even moved her arms as though to push him away and find some corner to retreat to, but...

This was the quietest place on a planet full of city life.

With a sigh, she relaxed and leaned in, eyes closing. She was just tired of fighting all the time, tired of facing the day knowing she'd have to deal with galactic idiots and the collective madness of everyday patients without staff, nurses, or any luxurious office. Just for a moment, she could let her guard down perhaps.

Just for a minute at most. But they still had a gangster to catch.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Trust was something built up over time. Corran didn’t expect Ilana to shed her walls completely. He didn’t even think he trusted her completely and without hesitation. But he did care about her; that much was undeniable. The young man held her safely, more nurturing than romantic. Corran inhaled slowly and exhaled through his nostrils, his chest rising and falling steadily, and rested his chin in her alabaster hair. Just one moment beyond a barge filled with cruel people, on a world filled with cruel people.

The Ranger’s posture suddenly and noticeably stiffened. His hands slid down and wrapped themselves around the doctor’s hips. It was incredibly forward and completely uncharacteristic of him. Corran leaned in to whisper into her ear, “Pretend like you like me.” His eyes stared long into the background behind her.

At the top of the stairs that led from the gambling deck stood a Durese male in a subdued tuxedo with the Devaronian woman from the hintaro table. She dwarfed her companion by a head. The Duro man stopped by the bartender and seemed to be asking a question. The bar attendant nodded, exchanged a few words and pointed directly at the undercover Ranger and the Arkanian doctor.

“Is that our smuggler friend?” Corran asked in a low voice, returning his eyes to his evening companion, lest he draw too much attention by his staring. He hoped Ilana would be able to make visual confirmation. The dapper Durese man and his hulking paramour approached with a tray of four drinks in hand. Perhaps the prey had taken the bait after all.

The blue alien cleared his throat when he neared the couple and grinned charismatically, “My lovely Ryka says that you two make quite the gamblers. You two are the high rollers at Hintaro, if I’m not mistaken? Congratulations are in order.” The tray with four wine glasses was presented. If the being was indeed the smuggler, he likely had more interest in the significant credits that had changed hands at the table than a mere chivalrous gesture. Business required credits and business was good. Either that or the Devaronian woman was a sore loser and wanted to tear their arms off.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

When she felt him stiffen, she lifted up her head slightly to gaze at him steadily, catching his whispered words. He was warm, almost oddly so, and she briefly reconsidered being so close. Many a partner before claimed that she was physically chilly as well, but at his words her arms slid up between them, wrapping about his neck as though to embrace, her voice equally low. "Pretend?" she murmured cryptically, but before the Ranger would be allowed to analyze their company approached. She stared at the Duros covertly through her lashes, then gave a small, but subtle, nod.

"Good plan to lure them out, cowboy."

She remembered treating him, but it had been during her year after the captured Corellian vessel. He was a friend of her captain, her captor, and seeing him again brought on a temporary flash of anger. She forced herself to smile coyly at the approaching pair, reluctantly sliding her arms away from Corran; the hesitation was genuine, the smile, definitely less so.

"Thank you," she replied smoothly, her voice lilting with a sly, almost flirtatious tone. "You are too kind. Ryka, and...?" She tilted her head his way, one arm twining about Corran's waist as though they were, in fact, a couple. Might as well play it up while they were here, but if the Durese male recognized her she would be very surprised.

She also wouldn't hesitate giving him a repeat of his previously treated knife wound if he proved troublesome, either. After all, violence was practically an everyday thing in Nar Shaddaa. Anyone could disappear or get shot over a slight; the problem was getting rid of his rather tall, leggy date.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

“Milo Uhlan, at your pleasure,” the Durese smuggler introduced himself at Ilana’s request. Whatever his motive was, the alien seemed quite confident in it. His pupil- less red eyes showed no insecurity at all. Though, the physically imposing date next to him would likely provide confidence to anyone. “You two parted from the gambling floor so quickly that I did not catch your names. It helps to know who I am toasting to,” he jested, gesturing with the tray of four drinks.

The smuggler was careful at fishing for information. Ryka knew Corran’s false-moniker already and her partner was probably seeing if the story was consistent. In the black-market business, one couldn’t be too careful. “Oh, of course. You must forgive me. I’ve never had such a successful evening of gambling in my life and I was so overcome with exuberance I just had to share it with my good luck charm in a less… crowded setting,” Corran slid his arm further around Ilana’s waist and pulled her closer for a moment in a subdued, but obvious, expression of attraction. It wasn’t hard to fake. Probably because it was true.

After easing the grip on his partner, Corran got around to answering the smuggler’s question, “I often go by Scipio while enjoying my other revenue sources. My partners often call me Skip.” There was an awkward pause. The Ranger cleared his throat and took one of the wine glasses from the tray. He was smart enough to not drink from it. “You are quite gracious to offer libations to our victory. Is this merely revelatory or the start of something more interesting?” The undercover officer of the law was really leaning into the ivory-tower banker persona.

“We’ll get to that in a moment… Skip,” the blue-skinned alien said, “I can’t go another moment without being introduced to your captivating companion.” He swiveled the tray closer to Dr. Morata to make it easier for her to take a glass. Corran glanced towards her out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps it would be better to let the doctor play the part of the fiercely independent mistress who needed no man to introduce her. That should be easy for her. With wine glass in hand, Corran wordlessly gestured towards his evening date in an introductory fashion.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

She smiled, but it wasn't a particularly warm one. She took the drink but did not imbibe right away, content for the time being to listen to the talk back and forth, but when there was pause for her own introduction, she tilted her head to Milo, her own raspy voice still light.

"Ilana Morata," she spoke plainly, also not bothering to drop the surname. The invitation was in her name anyways, and there was no point flinching behind a moniker. The worst would be someone remembered her name, but really, that would be one person in the midst of so many anyways, that her name itself would be insignificant. The man wanted for something else; a keen interest, perhaps, and the Devaronian woman as well seemed keen on them both. At least their petty emotions were easy to judge.

She paused, tilting her head. Time to spring the trap.

"Perhaps if you're interested in talking business..." her voice dropped as she leaned forward subtly, giving a private smile to the couple. "Perhaps we might find someplace a little more private to discuss it. Open air and open ears," she hummed, amber eyes flicking coldly to the bartender that had pointed them out, "often make poor the talk of anything pleasurable. Shall we, Milo?"

She put influence in her voice, in her eyes, the curve of her lips to those that met her eyes. She would use all the subtle tricks learned with the Sith to her advantage... and get the person they needed to get out of here.

Her patience was wearing thin.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Red eyes stared unblinkingly back at Ilana. The aristocratic smile on his face seemed more forced by the second. Finally, the Duro spoke, "Ms. Morata. Charmed. Perhaps you are right. This soiree was getting dull anyway. Don't you agree, my love?" Milo turned to look at his Devaronian partner. The intimidating woman gave a stiff, stone-line nod as she took a wine glass off the tray. The Duro smuggler took the last glass and sipped from it briefly, "Good thing too. We are nearing the next pier." In the near distance off the port side of the barge, there was another station much like the one Ilana and Corran had gotten on. This one too had a large gathering of fashionably-late attendees. A few couples on the top deck gathered to exit the ship as well. In the meantime, Milo snagged the attention of a server and handed off the tray and dusted off his hands.

The barge pulled along the docking pier and fluttered to a halt. The Durese smuggler took the immediate lead with Ryka right beside him. "Come along. We'll find an abode more acceptable shortly." Corran glanced at Ilana briefly for her input. It might be the best option to get off the flying hotel of perversion to get the smuggler more remotely removed, even if it meant greater risk at first. The hulking and imposing Ryka intimidated many of the other groups that wanted off the vessel first - it helped many of them were drunk at the least. Corran offered his arm to escort Dr. Morata across the service-arm to the urban patio across the ariel expanse.

Ryka continued clearing a path of those eager to board the barge and led them to a series of hover-limousines that were lined up at the curb to deliver or receive passengers. The drivers looked to be automated astromechs. A luxury but also something of a safety feature when it came to criminal big-wigs discussing everything under the sun in the back-seats. Milo opened the door for his monstrous paramour and held the door for the accompanying guests as well. Corran would make an offer to take the hand of his own date to ease her entrance. The interior was quite spacious, though the Devaronian woman still looked cramped. Couches were arranged along the walls of the vehicle with a cooled mini-fridge at the end. Milo and Ryka at on one side; the other two implied to sit across from them. The smuggler crossed his legs and rested one hand in his lap, still swirling wine in the other. His demeanor changed to something less noble and turned to face Ilana directly. "You're clearly the one I should be speaking with. Ryka believes your cohort here is some sort of idiot-savant when it comes to dice. You're too good for him, you know." Milo gestured with an open palm towards Corran matter-of-factly. The young man shifted eyes towards the Durese man for only a brief moment before stoically returning them to staring blankly in the space between Ryka and himself. "See? He knows it," Milo said with flick of the wrist.

Gracefully, the limo-speeder rose from the pavement and began to float through the air. Lights of all colors began to blur outside the window. There was nowhere to know where they were all going, but it was more private. No guards, no distractions. The Duro rubbed the bridge between his eyes in a sign of feigned fatigue.

"She wanted to rip your limbs off and then shake you upside down to return the winnings. I loathe to resort to barbaric practices if I can avoid it," Milo said with a sigh, but patted the thigh of his partner in a sign of lingering affection, "I'd like an opportunity to earn those credits back. You buy a bulk haul of... product for the Core Worlds with the credits from the game and you receive a share of the profits from what I deliver. Everyone wins. Does this sound agreeable?" The smuggler took a sip from his wine again while awaiting a reply. Corran said nothing as a stern look encased his face. Wine sat undisturbed in his hand. If you knew the undercover Ranger at all, one could tell he had a fall-back plan formulating. For now, the offer was in Ilana’s lap.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

She waited until they were settled in the limousine and moving along before giving her answer. Before that, however, her hand gave his a subtle squeeze at his offering to help her in. She listened to the proposal with keen golden eyes, lips pursed slightly. "I see. You're implying my partner..." she glanced significantly at Corran, "was chosen in error simply because you were soundly beaten at your own game and you loathe to lose sorely so many fine credits?"

She scowled openly now, the Doctor's normally cool gaze absolutely frigid. "You insult his intelligence and mine, threaten us with vague hints of violence, and insinuate we might be generous by being passed a deal that would no doubt be a set-up." The interior of the cab seemed to grow chilly, golden eyes flashing brightly in the dim interior. Anger burned deep in her chest, but it was more than that. A certain level of pride had been nettled, and that was a score she would deal with evenly to see the mission through. She then glanced coolly to Corran, head tilted slightly.

"I believe we've just been threatened, darling."

She didn't even wait for his response. She lifted up her arm as though to point at the couple, but a soft hiss lashed out from her sleeve.

A dart, embedded with a poison to knock the Durese man to sleep. He flinched back as though to call out or do something, but the dart found its' mark in his throat. He made a vague, choking noise and slumped over.

As for the Devaronian, she already drew out her stun as the woman began to act as though she would lunge after them.

This wasn't the first time Doc had faced down mobsters, and she faced the woman with equally stony, unflinching silence. If she would settle calmly, then Doc would pass the stun to Corran and he could handle the tall gargoyle of a lover. If not, she would just have to stun her to compliance.

She gritted her jaw, amber eyes flashing icily. "So. Where to, 'Skip'?" She deferred to his intelligence of this sort of ops, but she wasn't lying that she itched to go ahead and stun the Devaronian anyways. But she had company, it'd be rude to shoot first, ask questions later.

But really, she hadn't been thinking. She was more annoyed that Milo assumed she made a poor choice in partners. She never made a poor choice.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Fire and ice. No other words came close to describing the two forces that dueled in Ilana's aura as she spoke. While her expression and voice were sub-zero, her eyes burned like flamethrowers. The doctor's rejection to Milo's offer were finely sharpened daggers in the shape of words. Each one cut with clinical precision. Even if he wasn't the target of her ire, when Ilana tilted her head to speak to him, Corran felt a chill descend down his spine. And not the kind he usually got around her. The Ranger knew this outright rejection might lead to a confrontation, so he readied himself to react. His body coiled like a viper waiting to strike.

Nothing prepared him for what happened next. With frightening speed, a dart just appeared in the neck of the Duro smuggler. Ryka's hulking frame shifted only slightly and Corran immediately kicked his leg up to her chest to keep her seated. Only the surprise pushed her back. She looked like she wanted to rise again but Ilana had produced a pistol in exactly the same time the Ranger kicked the alien back into place. While much smaller in stature, Dr. Morata's stone-cold face cowed Ryka into temporary submission. The blaster also helped.

Carefully, Corran accepted the pistol from his evening date. The past few seconds required a lot of time to process, but that would have to wait. He adjusted his grip on the hold-out blaster and kept it held on the Devaronian. "I am Ranger Corran Velt. You're under arrest for aiding and abetting in smuggling of illegal goods. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," the Ranger stoically rattled off her sentient rights in accordance with Free Worlds Alliance law. Ryka, for her part, didn't show any sign of concern. Just kept that angered grimace since Milo took a dart to the neck.

"My ship. It's on a landing pad in the Corellian District. I'll be taking these two into custody to stand trial in New Republic space." Corran was all business now. A New Republic court was likely to bring a harsher sentence, especially since the Core Worlds often had spice problems in their poorer strata. More importantly, their prisons were more secure than other worlds in the Free Worlds Alliance. These two would be less likely to be broken out and try to get even. The droid-driver diverted course to the new coordinates. The whole ride there, the young Ranger kept his eyes glued to the lumbering alien across from him, only allowing himself sparing glances at Ilana.

When they neared the secluded landing pad, tucked away near towering apartment buildings but with no easy access for additional guests, Ilana would be able to see a YT-1300 freighter through the window. Two crimson outlines raced along the edges of the old ship with both finally meeting at the intact nose-pod at the bow. The freighter, while clearly old, looked like someone had been trying to restore it back to original configuration, but never quite finished the job. Once the hover-limousine came to a halt on the pad, the astromech at the front beeped in announcement. "You go first," Corran gestured at their Devaronian prisoner. As she moved to rise, Ryka took her chance. She lunged at Corran with a snarl. A double-tap of stun blasts struck her center mass and she slumped on the speeder floor. Great. Now he had to lift them both out of here.

Once both the Duro and his massive girlfriend had been laid out flat on the landing pad tarmac and the speeder took off after payment, Corran would allow himself a sigh to release the tension in his shoulders. It was a successful mission, by all accounts. All made possible by Ilana Morata. The young man turned to look at the Arkanian doctor and allowed himself another opportunity to admire her elegance. He offered the blaster back in an open palm, "Would you be kind enough to provide me some back-up? Just until I get these two secured in the brig is all." It didn't take an empath to know Corran was looking for an excuse to spend just a little more time with her.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

They worked well together it seemed. She was duly impressed with his speed and finesse for taking over the operation, leaving everything else out of her hands. And with minimal risk of her own reputation; she was very pleased. She kept her features remote even though she could feel Corran stealing glances at her; she still burned with anger over their assumption that her judgement of partners was made in error.

However, there was the issue of transportation for the two downed smugglers. She tilted her head. If he hadn't been there... the situation dealing with them would have never happened. But his extra hand kept her safe. He could have simply left her in the barge and taken them himself, but he didn't. He asked for her help... and she was surprised that he considered her to help. She took the blaster back gratefully, slipping it into her clutch as though nothing had happened.

"I'll be glad to help," she affirmed, admiring openly the lines of the ship. It hadn't been too long ago she once owned something similar; she was no ship expert, but flying this antiquity had to be interesting. Very star rogue-ish, and somehow both what she did and didn't expect of the Ranger before her.

"I assume you have a medipak somewhere?" she tilted her head to the ship, amber eyes once more their placid coolness. "We can use the packed-in stretcher to make transport easier." She waited for his own word before letting him get it himself; she wouldn't pressure him to have her invade his personal space. Somehow, being on the ship would feel much more personal than having been in his apartment before, and she was uncertain how to handle this personal take of things.

Best to let him figure out the next foot forward, but somehow, she was reluctant to leave just yet. Part of it was he still had her credits in his pocket, but also part of it felt like the evening was over too quickly.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

A grin slowly crept up on Corran's face, "That's a pretty good idea. But I have one better." It didn't sound like a brag; more like a playful jest of a boy hoping to mildly impress someone. He turned around to face her and tapped his temple with a finger while walking backwards until he stood under the ship. With a pull of a lever and press of an exterior console, the ramp entering the ship into the cabin descended. Then a second panel opened up and hydraulic claps carried a hover-cart downward and let it settle before releasing near one of the landing struts. The young man strode over to it and leaned on the guide-bar of the floating flatbed. "It's not the first time I've needed to carry unconscious suspects aboard." There was a certain amount of pride in his voice - a moment of displaying ingenuity to someone with all the trappings of higher education and aristocratic charms; in all respects his social better.

Bringing the cart over, Corran loaded up the two criminals with some labor and motioned for Ilana to follow, "Watch your head coming up the ramp. Freighters of this model have a bit of a design flaw regarding that." One couldn't enter a YT-1300 upright unless they were a species of a smaller stature. Humans had to lean over, unfortunately. Once inside, the flatbed cart took up most of the hallway, so the pair would have to proceed single-file. The ship itself was noticeably clean and tidy. Even though some of the interior buffers and panels were a hodge-podge of refurbished parts and restored original condition units, they had a consistent care about them. No rust, grime, or smudge in sight. The Ranger pointed ahead down the hallway, "The brig is just past the common area. I had to jury-ridge it myself. Converted one of the passenger bunks into temporary holding."

The common area looked like a standard layout of a YT-1300. It had a circular table with a booth around it. An engineering suite for autopilot in hyperspace travel. A modest kitchenette. While the layout was to manual standard, what adorned the main cabin told a different story. A storage shelf along the wall was absolutely brimming with holobooks. They were assorted by genre from history, to politics, to relaxing fiction. Such titles were easily legible such as Warlord: The Fall of the Galactic Empire and Survivor's Guide to the Outer Rim Territories. One entire shelf was dedicated to Sector Ranger bylaws, guidelines, manuals, and instruction templates. Above the small dining table, a metal panel along the wall read in bold red writing Crimson Venture. "Make yourself at home. If criminal suspects can see the interior of my ship; you're more than welcome," Corran called out over his shoulder as he pushed the unconscious and bound smugglers into the passenger section.

The custom brig was the last room in the passenger section's hallway. It held the to-spec built in bed and one extra cot, a single shelf, a mirrior, and a lavatory. Enough just to get by for a small-to-moderate length trip for prisoners. Once secured inside, Corran shut the door and it hissed to seal. A one-way-viewport allowed him to check on his captures any time he liked. When he returned to the common area, the Ranger had taken off his dress coat, loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top button to his dress shirt, and was in the process of rolling up his sleeves. He leaned against the entryway and looked at Ilana for a lingering moment. "I really cannot thank you enough for your help tonight, Ilana," Corran said seriously in a low, delicate voice, "and you're really good at this sort of thing. Incredible, even."

The young man hesitated; as if his mouth was about to outrun his thoughts for a moment. Corran gave his head a soft shake and figured it probably was best just to be open with someone like Ilana's senses. "Have you..." He began carefully, "...ever considered being a Ranger?"

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

First thing was first.

She patted down both the Duros male and Devaronian for weapons. They were modestly packing heat--on Nar Shaddaa, not really a surprise--, but she raised both brows at his improved version of transport. She nodded once, shortly, blinking once. "Nice idea," finally came the admittance, taking up the rear of the hover-cart.

Transport was easy; she retrieved her dart to place the empty needle cartridge into her clutch, and it was only then he would get a glimpse of the complicated forearm rigging she used to hook it in place, hence the sleeve. But it was soon modestly covered, and she allowed herself the briefest luxury of seeing the commons interior of his ship, eyeing the places it had obviously been repaired, and the name.

But now they were alone.

She allowed her eyes to linger for a moment as he leaned against the entrance from the passenger 'brig' area on him as well, and they both stared at each other for a moment before he spoke. She swallowed once, looking away, and she fought the urge to cross her arms out of habit. "When you stay long enough on the Smuggler's Moon, you pick up a few things," she muttered self-consciously. "But it wouldn't have worked out without your own tactics. You... did well too."

She stood, awkwardly overdressed in such a casual space. His compliments made her duck her head away, pretending to admire the ship's name, but really she had no idea how to accept them. Thank him? Talk about living here? None of the options felt right, so she kept silent, absently fiddling with the lock to her clutch.

At his question, she blinked back to awareness, giving him a disbelieving stare. "Be a Ranger? Me?" she finally uttered out in disbelief, mentally facepalming at such a clearly witty response. "...No..." she finally uttered, giving him a sideways look. The faintest touch of heat touched her face; was it getting warm in here?

She finally turned to face him, slowly crossing the distance as though deliberating something. "Considering the past and my connections..." she began, then shook her head slightly. Her hands settled on her hips, eyeing him contemplatively. "Plan on making me an offer?" she queried... but the faintest touch of wry humor touched the corners of her lips at the thought.

The good ol' mob Doc joining the blue crew. That'd be a twist of irony.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

A compliment delivered by a beauty wreathed in gold. Ilana had floored him with a brush of her hand in the past, but his emotions endured this positive burst more evenly now. The young man wondered if he was getting use to the doctor's prepossessing appearance or if it was because her compliment seemed more sincere. What she really thought. The Arkanian doctor avoided eye contact until he asked her a question he didn't plan on asking. Was that a real blush on her cheeks or make up? She seemed flustered by the suggestion at least; maybe even surprised by it. Often the prime example of cool, collected, and witty... it was telling that Ilana had been unbalanced by the thought. Corran just wasn't sure what he was being told by it.

The Ranger instinctively inhaled softly as she closed the distance, both because of her nearing presence and the mention of her past. Her connections. Instead, she pivoted to a clever remark; an endearing grin on her lips. He had originally felt intimidated by her feline smile and playful eyes. The young man had come to like them. Corran shrugged visibly, "I'm merely suggesting the idea. Something for you to think on - if you wanted. I didn't expect an answer tonight." He didn't expect to ask the question either.

He pushed himself off the entryway with his shoulder to stand at his full height, "You're medically trained. Cool under pressure. Quick on the draw. I know you can endure physical punishment. These are things the Sector Rangers like in a candidate." Corran sauntered a few steps closer to his partner for the evening. "As for your past... I believe in second chances. Lorcan got one. I got one. If you wanted a fresh start, the Rangers seem to be a good place to try," the young blonde raised his forearm and gave it a little shake, "Even if this past and connections taught you to be an undercover assassin to pay the bills for medical school." That joke was for his own benefit more than hers. The Ranger had known Dr. Morata was tough. The first time she met she fought off two gangsters nearly on her own. But the rapid reflexes, wrist-darts, hold-out blasters, and rubbing elbows with the elite on Nar Shaddaa? Ilana had as many layers as a planet, along with being just as dangerous and mysterious the further one explored.

Corran's eyes glided over the smooth, golden curves of his companion before coming to a rest in her expressive eyes. Not long ago they were as powerful as super novas. Had she been protective of him? Perhaps another time. He turned his head towards the kitchenette and politely asked, "Can I get you anything? I think my buzz from the liquor has worn off, thankfully." A few quick steps and the young man was rummaging through the half-sized fridge built into the ship. If Ilana wanted anything, he'd get it for her before producing his own bottled water. His mouth tasted like it had a film on it from the barge. Water was the best attempt to rid of it. After a brief swig, Corran gestured with his hand a return to the previous topic, "Just... think on it. Who knows? Maybe a serving Sector Ranger would write a letter of recommendation if he could be convinced." A flirtatious smirk punctuated the sentence.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

It was a relief for him to stop pressing the subject of her switching sides; honestly, though it was appealing, the greatest loss would be her freedom, what precious little she had of it. At least, that's what she told herself every night, but really, it was the lack of need to answer to a higher power for permission; being so tightly laced with rules and regulations would smother her to a stiff paperboard cutout physician, and she was worth more than that.

He stepped past her for the kitchenette, and she wordlessly watched, merely nodding when he asked if she wanted anything first. "Water," she finally rasped, and when he handed her a bottle she downed some of it, only stopping to breathe, then capping the rest. It was crisp and cold, and just the right shock to jolt her back to the present.

At his flirtatious smirk, however, she perked a white brow. "Or perhaps you could do some convincing yourself..." she demurred, holding the water bottle against her throat to ease some of the warmth that had spread down her neck suddenly, amber eyes still glinting thoughtfully. "Sweeten the deal for a poor Doctor." Now she was definitely teasing in return, but it was such a fleeting look one might have missed it if they weren't looking.

She took one last sip of hers, letting silence linger before speaking again. And when she did, it was soft, her gaze lowered to the bottle cap.

"I... am grateful it was you for a partner." She admitted this with an absent frown, amber eyes flicking up to meet his squarely. Her jaw lifted, body a tall, proud figure as she glanced over, features calm once more. "I hope you know what they said in the limousine is not true... I believed my company to be of the best quality. Without you, this mission would have been that much more difficult," she admitted, and it was admitted slowly, almost reluctantly. Her gaze met his own squarely, still grasping the bottle.

"I cannot be a Ranger any more than you can be an assassin." Her lips quirked at that thought a second, before the smile vanished. "But if I can help again..." she paused, head tilted slightly to examine his features, his body, all of him before her. He was an attractive young man, there was no doubt of this, but her interests laid deeper within, the turn his own life had taken, the many layers that made up the man and Ranger, the person that made her feel like she could confide anything and he wouldn't think her a monster.

A dangerous person indeed, that could make the hopeless feel hope.

"Let me know." She murmured this almost huskily, face cool, still as she watched his reaction intently beneath white lashes. It wasn't a matter of 'owing' anymore, but a mutual curiosity, and a need to understand. Perhaps by the end of this need to know... but no, she wasn't going to dwell on that luxurious thought yet, the ball was in his court now.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

They could never seem to escape the social chess game of their own making. As Ilana chugged down her own water, Corran felt himself grow thirsty. When the woman pressed the cold bottle against her neck and teased him with clever replies, he felt like it was definitely getting warmer in here. The Ranger chugged down his own water as silence filled the air between them. It didn't feel uncomfortable - not like back on Corellia. Being alone in the same room didn't feel as awkward. It felt... welcomed.

When she finally broke the silence, the young man froze at first; bottle to his lips. Ilana was looking directly at him; tall and resplendent. Corran slowly lowered the water in his hand, drinking deep from her honest words instead. He didn't know how, but the doctor expressing that she liked him being there tonight and that he was valued as good company felt more earnest and honest than anything she'd ever told him. It meant a great deal. A mixture of pride and relief filled his chest. Milo Ulhan was right when he said Corran was not Dr. Morata's equal. How could he be? She was a whole social strata above his kind - educated, graceful, and certainly wealthy if gambling was any indication. Ilana disagreed with the smuggler's conclusions and the young man felt a yearning to be closer to her because of it.

At first, a part of the Ranger felt an initial pang of sadness at the rejection. But then he realized the doctor had made a good point. Corran cherished the opportunity the interplanetary law enforcement service provided. If he could enlist every kind soul into their ranks, he would. Sharing that opportunity was somewhat of an expression of how his respect for Dr. Morata had grown. Not everyone wanted to be a Sector Ranger or even could, however. There were so many other positions in the galaxy that needed good people in them. That seed was cast, at least. Only time would tell if it landed in fruitful soil or dashed among the rocks.

"But if I can help again..."

The sentence drew Corran's eyes back into focus on his companion. Her smile faded to something more clinical. As Ilana examined him, the young man observed right back. On an average day, Ilana Morata was a striking beauty. The kind that would gain immediate attention in any gathering. Tonight she was porcelain enshrouded in gold. The Ranger pondered if she had looked like this when they first met if he would have been able to even speak. In a way, the doctor's beauty was a shield; a way to deflect attention from her true self. Corran didn't know entirely who that was, but he did know one thing: she was better than she gave herself credit for. The young man often despised his recent history - the teenage arrogance and rowdiness. He wanted it locked away in order to fully embrace the ideal Sector Ranger persona. Ilana, tonight and on Corellia, pushed past the badge seemed to like that part of him. That being a Ranger wasn't the only identity worth having. That Corran's past had some merit unique on its own unrestricted by oath or law.

Someone who valued the person, not the title.

"Let me know." The breathy words sent a chill. The ones she usually gave him. From Ilana's perspective, the Ranger would twist his neck a bit to ward off the goose-bumps. It was subtle; maybe not even noticeable, but there. When she did that, Corran felt a youthful energy well up in his body. A drive to close any gap between the man and the woman. Between the two, there was a mutual... something and he never wanted to pass up the opportunity to explore it. A thought - could Ilana sense these feelings? And if she could, why didn't the young man seem to care? The Ranger placed his water bottle on the nearby counter and slid his hand into his dress pants pocket.

"I don't usually seek the help of independent contractors," Corran began, a clever and handsome glint in his eyes, "But you've made quite an impression and earned a little something for your troubles." The Ranger drew forth a large stack of bound credits. It certainly covered Dr. Morata's massive bet at the table and a not-insignificant portion of the winnings. It was all her money anyway and not a true reward, but the blond youth was obviously teasing in returning what was lent. The rest he would keep. Any money taken out of the hands of Nar Shaddaa criminals was its own little justice. Besides, the Crimson Venture might need to be replaced one day.

The stack was held not far from his chest, offering the potential for Ilana to slink closer together or swipe them out of his grip from a distance. It was her choice, but as with hintaro, the young man would be remiss if he didn't tip the scales towards the desired outcome. "But if you feel that the hazards outweighed the reward... I think I can offer some additional... incentives." Corran's blue eyes subconsciously glanced at the woman's dark lips - an inviting grin on his own.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

At the sight of the credits, she blinked once, then glanced back up to him. Something lingered in her gaze; a thought, or an idea, that drew her closer, allowing her to sense his emotions, the ebb and flow of everything he sensed around her. Relief, pride. Curiosity, perhaps, but also a want. It was gone fleetingly, but she wondered what he was thinking, staring at her like that. Like she was somebody important. It was odd to see someone looking at her like she was a person, a woman worth knowing beyond her profession and uses. Because that's all the galaxy was, they used others for their own benefits.

Her hand slid up as though to take the credits, but instead of putting them in her clutch and leaving, she played his bet.

They were set aside, along with her clutch. Amber eyes blazed up at blue, a slight touch of a smile barely ghosting her lips. Even in this informal setting he was broad-shouldered, smart on his feet and able to turn things to his advantage with a mere play of words; if he had gone to the other side of the tracks she'd have found him an interesting adversary in criminal circles. In this setting, where he was perhaps trying to fit in, he seemed almost roguish, a capable person unto himself. A far cry from the man earlier in the evening, tight with the anxiety of a lawman in a lawless land, dressed in a code differing from his normal and in a social realm far different than she supposed he immersed in.

She caught the glance of his lowering, and eyes warmed slightly. She took one small step closer, slightly closing the gap, her voice a confident, low challenge threading with an innocent reply. "I'm all ears," she murmured, one hand lightly ghosting over his own, where the credits had been. The other settled on his shoulder, a stark contrast to the dark greys he wore. He still had the gold mark over his brow; she still found it interesting that even though they had not known the other would be their partner, they had similar ideas. Open invitation for him to come closer... and yet leaving enough room to allow him to seek space if he wanted to. She watched him, waiting to see his reaction to her own played hand, so to speak. Hopefully he'd call the bluff.

He has good taste, thank the Force.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Luck had been a major factor for things going right tonight. One last roll of the dice had been cast and had come up aces. Her coy reply was all Corran needed to hear. The young man's hand reactively grabbed hold of her's gently brushing against it, while the other slid around to the small of her back and pulled Ilana close; removing the space between them. His blue eyes peered under heavy eye-lids, head angled to the side, committing to memory how she looked in this moment. Luminescent. If she didn't interrupt, the young Ranger would press his lips against hers in a gentle caress. The first kiss they shared on Corellia could have been described as hesitant, unsure, perhaps even restrained. This one would be its opposite. Confident, decisive, freeing. The Arkanian beauty wasn't fragile from injuries and his grip would feel firm, enjoying that fact. He held her close in this embrace longer than their first. When he finally took a breath, his eyes remained closed and mouth close to hers. "Sorry... I'm a bit of a glutton..." Corran whispered in a breath, his lips brushing against Ilana's with every word he spoke. The urge to press together again was there - strongly - but he would leave the opportunity for her to return it.

Slowly, the blond youth would pull back and stand at his full height and release her hand and slide both of his own to her waist. Dr. Morata could move away if she wanted and Corran wouldn't fight it, but he greatly hoped she enjoyed the proximity as much as he did. At least tonight. Tonight he had gotten a taste of a world he'd never known. Ritzy gowns. Flowing booze. Gambling with wealth beyond his parents' wildest dreams. Luxury almost unfathomable to people of his class. None of those tastes compared to the presence of Doctor Ilana Morata. Others would deride Corran's feelings as youthful infatuation. Maybe they'd be half right. The two may never meet again. Either from disinterest, disfavor, or death. There was no choice but to live in the present and the young man wanted to feel in a line of duty that required him to not. The opportunities to lay down the badge came so rarely and she had a knack for making them appear by graceful force of will. If nothing ever came again, the Ranger would at least be thankful for that.

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

When his hand slid down her spine, warmth followed his touch. Warmth that made her draw breath quietly, lean in as though to soak more in. Beneath his hands he would feel her, the perpetual coolness of her skin beneath the thin fabric, and her arm wrapped around his neck to draw him in even closer, if such a thing was possible.

Anticipation melted into confidence, into surety, and when he spoke into the thin air between them, she listened. She almost replied verbally, but instead closed the distance once more when he began to withdraw slightly, her own emotions surging to the fore. She couldn't quite explain it; in previous partners it was an edge of ruthlessness, an inner coldness similar to her own, and though he possessed that same level of focused professionalism, it was only a fragment of the man that warmed her just by being himself.

"By all means, be one."

It was, in its' own way, utterly alien of a situation, and equally because of this, a dangerous situation. It was specifically the reason why she stayed away from people, from most possible attachments and bonds, because there was a very real risk of falling hard. And if that happened and something happened, it could break her worse than she already was.

All these scenarios and more flashed through her mind and she instead pressed her lips against his once more, a light, persistent kiss to bring him back towards her, then feathering more against his jaw, then his neck if he'd allow her, curious and now at ease with the situation of the smuggler now past them. As far as she was concerned, she had all the time in the galaxy to explore the man and the Ranger she pressed into. And in an odd, heady way she could hardly wait to begin.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Frigid. That was the first thing that came to mind. Her skin was as frosty as it looked. While the icy touch would have made many recoil, Corran felt the opposite. He wanted to embrace her. Envelope her in his warmth. To draw closer and share what he could offer. It was instinctive feeling. Ilana's tempting reply sent his body temperature soaring. The way she kissed him was as teasing as her words. Pillow lips dotted across his jaw and down his neck. Corran inhaled through his teeth, savoring the feeling. Adrenaline was flowing through his veins now and his brain was too focused on the next second to have any cognitive thoughts. This was the stuff dreams were made of.

But.

Something deep in his chest protested. Not about Ilana, or even what they were doing, but... whatever it was, it irked him. It wasn't intimidation. This wouldn't be his first time. Not even his first time since being a Sector Ranger. It was vague, ever shifting, but constant. The young man couldn't get a grasp on it as every other part of his being cried out to ignore it and focus on the impossible prize within grasp. "Wait... wait," Corran said quietly and weakly, turning his head away slightly in an attempt to pull way from the blissful kisses. His neck refused to obey. His hands didn't push Ilana away, but gripped her waist tighter as not to suggest he wasn't interested in their proximity. "I don't want you to think that... I'm only here for this." The blond youth's voice sounded fatigued and breathless, as if his own throat was fighting against the words, "I mean... I want this."

A small sigh of frustration slid past Corran's lips. His mind refused to form sentences. The eloquent diction of the Scipio persona was practically ejected into outer space. His physical muscles were even more mutinous. They still braced the angelic and alluring woman against him, in a wanting desire. In a moment of inspired frustration, Corran would reach up behind his head and grab Ilana's hand and guide it to his cheek, if she allowed. The young man's grip would feel frail, revolting against the action. Every part of him wanted to have the doctor's arms around his neck for many hours to come, but this was more important.

The Ranger didn't know how Ilana's empathy or sensing abilities worked. But he hoped that the direct touch on his face would help explain his feelings where words and actions failed him. An anxious worry that she would perceive him as one who merely fawned and coveted her on the surface. On appearance; as he believed countless others did. A serious desire to express his respect of her - all of her - and to show it. A will for this not to be the last. A selfish fear of finality. Corran's light blue eyes would peer back into the amber gaze, trying as best they could to be windows to his feelings. An innocent and hushed question followed, "Do you understand?"

@Killa Ree

 

[Dr Ilana Morata]

She paused right at the junction where throat met shoulder at his weak words, his voice vibrating low against her lips. She leaned back slightly, amber eyes flicking up to stare at a tight jaw, and the warmth from his hands tightening over her waist sent a tingle of awareness down her spine. For two seconds, she forgot where she was and who she was with. She just paused, listening as he struggled to speak. She could sense the frustration, the want, the desire wrapping tightly, and briefly she wondered if he had any doubts.

When he guided her hand to his face, however, she inhaled sharply. There was an intense desire to run away, for many reasons, but the first was that it was so intimate. Raw, close, so many emotions flickering in and out at once that it baffled. He wanted more out of her than she even thought anybody could want of her, and for the first time, the Doctor felt something cold ache in the pit of her heart.

Fear.

She pressed her hand lightly, cupping his jaw, and idly a voice in the back of her brain started analyzing him. Physical features, height, plausible weight, physicality, but she wasn't focused on that stream of thought. For a moment, she considered walking away from all of this. Stepping out of his embrace and walking out, but for some reason, her feet refused to move. Instead she leaned up.

Her voice was low, soft. He would see what went in her mind as easily as she saw through him, and he would see a woman, uncertain of what to do or how to go forward. Unlike the self-assured person she was earlier, this was entirely new territory, and for once she was at a loss for action, the next step. He would see that even through this there was no hesitation, merely a need to close the gap and to understand why she couldn't keep away. She paused...

Then her other hand trailed down, grasping one of his own that rested on her waist, bringing it up to her own face. For some reason, he enjoyed her company, and she wanted to understand what he saw. For once, she would wait to see how he would decide to move forward. For some reason, instinctually, it felt right.

"I understand."

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

It was all still. So quiet, that one would think was empty. Corran didn’t dare move or even breath beyond the shallowest of breaths. He didn’t know how, but he felt that any sudden movements or spoken word might frighten the winter beauty into flight. In the total silence, he could feel a skittishness. A want to be away. But she didn’t take it.

A hand, as cold as ice, chilled his cheek. Why did he like that feeling? Corran’s heart raced and there was certainty that trained doctor would notice the quickened pace. After what felt like an eternity in a span of seconds, Ilana leaned in. In her snowy face, in her sunlight eyes; the young man could finally sense – no, feel what she was feeling. An uncertainty. The sort of hesitation one feels when looking into the unknown. Seeing Ilana this way… Corran immediately understood the rarity of it. The glimpse into a guarded vault of untold treasures. Beyond the disarming charisma, sharp wit, and towering intellect… there was a vast, undiscovered and uncharted person. Closely guarded and hidden. To truly know Ilana Morata, would be a task worthy of a lifetime. For some reason, he wanted to smile.

An ethereal hand lifted the Ranger’s own from her waist. She felt so strong and his grip didn’t protest. With grace, Ilana pressed his hand against her own cheek. Corran immediately felt the tundra-like chill. It was becoming endearing. The smooth skin contrasted with the biting cold, but it felt like nothing in the galaxy could compel the young man to move his palm away from her jaw. Ilana’s soft reply warmed him. His heartbeat eased. This was all so… intimate in a way an outside witness would not be able to discern. The blond youth could see it was his opportunity to lead.

“Stay with me tonight, Ilana.”

It wasn’t a command or an order. The soft words were more a heartfelt plea. He didn’t want her to go – he couldn’t. Even if they spent all night looking through the wide cockpit windows at the passing stars in total silence. Even if she slept two rooms down from his quarters. Even if she left without saying good-bye in the morning. It would be worth it. Corran hoped with the kind of wishful hope saved only for the twilight of youth, she would consider one night.

@Killa Ree