[Star Wars Roleplay] Two Suns and A Blue Comet

[Die Shize]

OOC: This roleplay is still set in the SWRP galaxy. It takes place in the past. Others are welcome to join (and I welcome others to join) but probably better to ping me first given the particular board setting.

The Jolly Jockey

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Tatooine

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Mos Eisley

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Spacers Row

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When it came to foul and unpleasant odors, one had but to walk down a street of Mos Eisley to catch a whiff. Maybe it was the dung of dewbacks and other beasts of burden, the sweat from thousands of bodies bunched together, or the rot of corpses not yet discovered in alleyways beneath the arid heat. Most pungent of all was the stench of crime and corruption that riddled the spaceport. There was a reason that the town was considered to be the armpit of the galaxy, though what that meant to one soul might have meant something entirely different to another.

Her head hit by dry air and damnable heat, Jetha mused on what a wise man had once told her about this place. In Eisley, whatever a person smells first is a quick clue to their kind of character. Some nostrils flared first at the perspiring armpits that mingled with beastly backsides, while others had their noses peaked to the monetary opportunities hanging around street corners like multi-species prostitutes in heat. When it came to Jetha, the first thing she smelled this morning was the sweet and sour spice emanating from the taxi driver who had been too out of it to care about receiving no tip. I told you no scrak, good sir, but nooo. The smells she could tolerate, but her ears might have bled from the scratchy buzzing blaring out of his speeder’s radio; a raucous noise that fools called music.

After Jetha exited the vehicle, it sped away and faded from view the moment she turned her head. Stretching down either side of her was the bustling road of Spacers Row, no more or less busy than any other street or plaza making up Mos Eisley. Company headquarters and trade buildings rose above their dome-roofed lessers in an attempt to scrape the sky and reach the golden suns that governed all. Pedestrians crawled about like ants, with every alien and their mother’s grandfather gathered about to spend the day chasing commerce and marketing money to make more. Often, that meant cheating or being cheated, killing or being killed, with earnings spilled out like spicy food in the restroom.

Jetha sniffed and regretted it immediately. The taxi’s own odor still clung to her nostrils. Better when I get out of this bloody heat. She might have glanced up at not one but two blazing suns and shaken both fists if she hadn’t valued her eyes. Wiping a bead of sweat from her face, she turned it toward the other Zeltron beside her.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire, am I right?”

Whatever that comment might have warranted, Jetha diverted her gaze to the building before them that looked as sand-beaten as any other but was unique with its door that stood out like a sore thumb. Perhaps one of her own, given its pink decor and the blinking bulbs of the red neon sign that neither lived nor died. “Rongo’s Roadhouse” flashed its fancy letters save for both R's, a poor gimmick that the owner would insist was the fault of poor circuitry too complicated to fix. Jetha had since presumed that the Rodian was just going for a dive bar vibe in the middle of a dive bar of a spaceport.

“Well, this is the place. Step through here, my love, and I’ll do more than double your earnings from our little Logan job.”

It had been an ironic ordeal, venturing from Ryloth to Tatooine, trading one desert for the other, and certainly not a feat that Jetha had felt up to accomplishing much. Heat was a cruel joke that the universe had concocted during its blistering birth, a mystery that she may yet never unravel, which was just as well. There were other black boxes that needed to be opened, inside of which was many a credit chip, and inside Rongo’s cantina of all places.

Jetha had managed to convince her fellow Zeltron that there was still money to be made, a little detour before they might part and go their separate ways, and a contact to link up with whose lucrative business opportunity had come her way through the grapevine while the Dandelion had still been spaceborne. One deal, one Rodian, two suns and two Zeltrons. What could possibly go wrong?

Adjusting the strap of her backpack, Jetha popped a stick of chewing gum into her mouth and turned to face her newfound friend once more.

“So, simply put, Rongo’s a lecherous old Rodian with a penchant for flirting and a propensity for lying. It’s part of his table manners when it comes to business, but our pheromones will only go so far with the likes of this one. All that said, I’ll buy first round?”

@Herrith

 

[Herrith]

Herrith looked out the window of the taxi with a nostalgic gaze as she eyed oh-so-familiar buildings. This is where she had spent most of her adult years, more specifically, from 20 to 25 years old, once she got out of the slave deal. It wasn't exactly a happy return, but she supposed it could have been a lot worse, all things considered. They had just finished their little Logan job, who was now free to wander the galaxy doing whatever he did beforehand, so it seemed they had some extra cash to spare. Of course, Jetha seemed to be all for working on some more jobs.

She couldn't really complain. Credits were credits, plus the fact that she might be able to pay a visit to some old friends if they weren't completely busy with whatever this was. As the taxi came to a stop, she stepped outside, far used to the various smells and sights of the planet. It came with the life here. A couple rotten smells to the left, bantha fodder on the right. The usual scents of this scum planet. She turned her head once Jetha explained why exactly they were here. Some sex-craving Rodian, eh? That sounded about right.

"And you need me why, exactly?"

@Die Shize

 

[Die Shize]

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It was a fair question, especially since Jetha had been the one who had insisted that this other woman tag along. What was perhaps a tad unfair was precisely the reason why. After all, any earnings to be had here would need to be shared—far be it from Jetha to hold out on money. Information, on the other hand? When one brokered it for money, among other things, conflict could occasionally arise as to how much one chose to divulge.

“Well”, she shrugged nonchalantly, looking back at the building. “I said that pheromones will only go so far with our friend on the other side of this door...and “so far” is far enough, especially with the two of us.”

With a wink back at her girl, Jetha stepped forward and before she knew it that pink door in front of her was being opened and her body was stepping through the doorway. There was a slight hesitation there when her hand had reached, nothing anyone would detect, but she knew what lied in wait on the other side. If pink was pretty, it wasn’t pretty this morning. But two Zeltrons will be. Oh, they will be…

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Customer of the Year

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Evan the Chevin

Inside Rongo’s Roadhouse, the cantina permeated with scents and smells that the outside stench held nothing against. Even that, however, was open for personal debate. Not everyone liked smoke in their nostrils, never mind the scale of harm. It was nearing afternoon, and if the overhead speakers and the slithering fumes were any indication, hookah was the scene of choice here. Earthy, fruity, honeyed flavors intermingled and enveloped the atmosphere. Some things never change. The red lighting was still dim, expectedly so at this hour, with dubious shadows for corners and what looked suspiciously like a Chevin in one of them. Otherwise, the cantina was as sand-pillared as any other structure in Eisley, albeit with a few more exotic rugs whose stains Jetha was better off not contemplating.

She strolled casually toward the bar, ignoring everyone else who was not her target of conversation, paying them little more than passing glances. A small handful of patrons of different calibers sat their rears down in solid seats or colorful cushions that looked like they belonged in a Hutt’s palace. Those taken to the latter were likely inhaling substances a little stronger than hookah, spending their waking morning half asleep. Some things really did never change, Jetha thought, and that alone was the first signal that her latest tip might prove useful after all.

“Still the blues in the morning, no doubt the jazz in the evening, eh Rongo?”

Her lips parted for the sweetest smile she could conjure against the instincts to frown. It had worked. The Rodian smiled something sly and fetched two glasses from beneath the bar as though he had been expecting company. “Jetha!” The name was enunciated a little too deliberately, like old friends who weren’t really. “You little fox of a Zeltron!” He blinked, eyes quickly catching the other woman that made the species plural this morning. “Ohhhh, and you’ve brought a friend, I see?” A third glass came atop and a bottle of brown came with it.

Trying to sense Herrith’s comfort level, Jetha might have shot her a reassuring glance and hoped for the best. She pulled a stool out and gestured for her partner to join her while Rongo began filling the glasses with whiskey. Jetha watched him pour, more the bottle than the hand.

“Maker’s Mark. Still got it.” A glass slid her way alongside Herrith’s. She picked it up, gave it a slight swirl if only to watch amber liquid move, then took a slow sip before sighing out the refreshment. Rongo tilted his head as though he had expected her gum to come out first. It hadn't. Minty fresh. Mmm.

“Save it for occasions like these... Nectar that burns as sweetly as the only woman who ever stole my heart…”

If Jetha hadn’t been Jetha, she would have rolled her eyes and pushed the glass forward. Instead, cards to heart, she held her smile and stared into those big, purple orbs that served as Rongo’s own eyes.

“Well, I’m here to return a piece of it, Rongo, if maybe not in the exact way that you're hoping...” It was her turn to tilt her head—toward Herrith. For now, Jetha's pheromones were kept in check. “We both are.” She squared her gaze at her companion, blinking. “Right, girl?”

 

[Herrith]

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Ah, well that makes much more sense.

Herrith grimaced and let that expression dip into a smile as she followed Jetha inside, letting her nose get used to the brand new smells of the cantina. She'd been here before...quite some time ago, and even then, only for a brief few minutes at the most. She took her time following Jetha, keeping an eye out for anyone looking to stir up some trouble as she sat down at the bar. Soon enough, out came a Rodian with the gaze of three krayt dragons in the middle of mating season. Soon enough, drinks were slid their way, and she found herself in a conversation with no clear direction to be going.

A slow smile returned to her face. She was perfectly comfortable so far, and would be if things got especially complicated, seeing as she was excellent at her job of manipulator and actor. Her tongue rolled to the inside of her cheek as she met eyes with the other Zeltron, sliding her hand to the other woman's with a slow giggle before letting herself take a sip of her own drink.

"Oh, of course, love. Always willing to pay back a Rodian."

That last sentence took quite a lot of willpower to utter out, even in the way she had worded it. Vague, sure, and she certainly hated Rodians. Maybe if this didn't go to plan she could wipe the smug look on his face. As for her pheromones, she couldn't really do much about them, seeing as the genetic disorder she had retained from birth still caused trouble where it wasn't due. Either way, she tried her best to keep them in check. As for the tone in her voice, she tried to aim for something neutrally happy, but it wasn't easy when she was talking about Rodians in the first place. Disgusting.

 

[Die Shize]

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Jetha’s smile broadened as familiar fingers found her hand and eased any doubt out of her body. That’s the spirit. Play along. It was an obvious ruse, one actor knowing the other, but their mutual friend remained as clueless as he wanted to be. Rongo was a randy Rodian, it was known, and as much as many Zeltrons disliked anything that would wreak havoc on their positive passions, Rongo in turn hated any threat to his belief that all women were ultimately his. The Zeltron’s gift of pheromones and emotional telepathy, however, were blatant tricks in the bag; he would only have so much of them before he got bored.

“I like this one, Jeth!” The Rodian set his glass down and licked his lips, his eyes on the one Zeltron whom he had never met before. “What’s your name, doll?”

Jetha said nothing while they both waited on a response. In an air-conditioned environment, she was tempted to wait all morning. Once introductions were out of the way, however, she drummed her fingers on the counter and delayed no longer than was necessary. “So, here I am with my head in the stars, if not as high as some of your guests behind me, when my comp screen flashes as fancily as your sign out front. ‘Who could it be?’ I ask.” She shrugged and took her own sip. “...Only the ugliest Rodian I’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing tongues with.” Jetha grinned, Rongo grinned, and all at once the two joined their mouths in a lengthy chuckle.

“What can I say? I’m an exceptional conversationalist! Clearly you got my message, at any rate. And a good thing at that. You’re going to like what I have for you, my sweets, of that I am sure.”

With that, Rongo moved his hand to top off his glass and anyone else’s as permitted. Jetha let him pour away, watching him all the while; more the hand than the bottle. “At any rate”. It had better be the best rate when it comes time to seal the deal, you old fool. The time now called for a chemical pinch and a kinesthetic touch as she shifted on her stool and pushed her bosom out ever so subtly.

“I’m sure… My friend and I certainly didn’t come flying all this way for bottom shelf, my dear, and I do O so hope that you’re not intending on selling me dry bottles because…” She leaned forward, Rongo leaned forward. “...I’d have to kill you…” There was a moment of silence, what one might perceive as hesitation, until the chuckles recommenced.

“Ohhh Jetha, honey, how I missed you! You have no idea! It’s been too long!” Rongo gulped back and set his empty glass upside down with a thud. “But we shall wait no more! If I know Jetha zig Caedwyn, she’s a woman who mixes business with pleasure but, unlike me, business comes first, am I right?”

He actually looked at both Zeltrons for the affirmation. Jetha offered him an innocent shrug like who-can-blame-a-girl?

“Of course, business, being what it is, does still have its certain...traditions.”

Her tongue rolled to the inside of her cheek as she met eyes with the other Zeltron. Here it comes. “I’d be one very disappointed young lass if it were any different!” She smiled something sly and leaned forward. Rongo leaned forward. Before anyone knew it, their lips were pressed together and all was lost to moist sensations and warm muscle caught in a naked swirl. In a moment, Jetha slowly withdrew her face like it was the last thing that she had wanted to do, her mouth no longer possessing just her own saliva, and her chewing gum giving its all to fight off a horrid aftertaste. It wasn’t alone; she downed her whiskey in a heartbeat and flipped the glass in the same manner that her host had, stifling a surge of bile.

“Right, then! That settles that part. Now, shall you lead the way?”

“Not so fast…” Rongo held up a swift finger and for a moment Jetha’s countenance almost caved to reveal every loosened nerve within it. Instead, she maintained her mask as well as a mummer and a mime and sat on her stool ready to receive this next new nonsense.

“A kiss is a kiss, dear Jetha, but a kiss is only a kiss...and unless your friend insists on sitting at the bar, well…” With a sheepish grin that made Jetha’s skin crawl, Rongo turned full face to Herrith and began to lean forward. “How about it? A peck on dear Rongo’s lips for a tour of his grand vault?” Having not prepared for this, it was all Jetha could do to sneakily slide a stick of gum beneath the bar and plant it atop her poor friend’s knee.

Jetha knew full well that Herrith could only have absolutely no idea of what exactly this was all about, but, if there was ever a window for explanations, it had now most certainly closed. It was either kiss the Rodian or stay topside—while said Rodian and Jetha went down to the basement to do business alone. This morning, being alone with Randy Rongo was the last thing that Jetha had wanted.

 

[Herrith]

Herrith looked back toward the Rodian with a flashy smile as she leaned forward, letting her pheromones do the talking as she thought up one of her many fake names in a few moments. This actually disgusted her doing all of this, but she supposed she had done many, many worse deals in her life and one bad night with a Rodian was probably just karma for what she'd been doing. She decided to drop her fake name. This guy has no idea who she was. And if he did, he clearly wanted to share a bed rather than get her arrested.

"Herrith, love."

Playing the Dumb Zeltron cliche was the best move for her. Plus it was really fun to do. Everyone fell for it, all the time. However, she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the sight of the two flirting, then kissing. It was hideous to watch, and she knew Jetha didn't like it any more than she did. Or maybe she did, and this was all some kind of sick thing for her to get done? Hell if she knew. Of course, the worst part was yet to come. The Rodian wanted her to return the favor. While that was happening, she felt the other Zeltron plant her piece of gum on her knee. She sent a kick toward her partner as she leaned in and gave a long kiss on the lips to the damned keetar freg, pulling away and attempting to ignore the horrid nausea rising in her throat.

There it was, no turning back now.

Though there would be questions later.

 

[Die Shize]

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This was bad. No, this was awful. Herrith was finding that out right about now. It wasn’t every day that Jetha kissed a Rodian on the lips, never mind past them. In fact, the last time that she had seen Rongo in order to kiss him was a few years ago too short. It had been for the same reason as this time, if not with the same person. Still, though she’d only admit it to herself, there was an odd, mostly awkward, sense of satisfaction that she gained from knowing that she wasn’t the only Zeltron getting her tongue wet this morning. In the worst way possible, no doubt.

Suddenly, Jetha stifled a grunt and held her body back from jolting, settling for a twitch once a boot kissed her leg. It was more the surprise than the pain, though perhaps she had it coming as much as she should have seen it coming. Mm’kay, I probably deserved that. Clearing her throat, she circled the bottom of her upturned glass with a lone finger, staring through its obscure middle to see the counter beneath; like a contorted reflection of the entire bar. And what lies below.

“So, then…” Trailing off, she looked left, looked right. Herrith was at her left, a Chevin watching from a corner at her right. O...kay then. Satisfied that there were no other pairs of lips that needed pressing, she drummed her fingertips on the counter. “...Where were we?” A sweetened smile and a raised brow to match it came Rongo’s way.

He had been licking his lips all the while, clearly content with how things were working out for him this morning. “Anywhere but any place that is not my own, sweet Jeth…” It was the Rodian’s turn to look left and right. “Shall we, ladies?”

Yes, we shall. Unfortunately. Jetha checked her thoughts and glanced at her friend to make sure that she was still onboard while rising from her stool, gum chewing away. As he should have done a million moments ago, Rongo finally began leading the way. It wasn’t far. He lifted the flap of wood that otherwise barred entrance to behind the bar, letting the two Zeltrons pass through unmolested. If not exactly unmolested. He didn’t look behind as he entered a code on the door behind the counter, opened it, and made his descent into the basement.

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Jetha followed right behind him and, like Rongo, assumed that the third member of this little party was in turn behind her. It was a somewhat long flight of dimly lit steps, perhaps longer than necessary for a cantina, all technological advances aside when it came to conveying alcohol, tobacco or otherwise. Maybe the suspicions were weighing up within Herrith’s mind, but this definitely wasn’t Jetha’s first rodeo at Rongo’s Roadhouse. Though it just might be my last…

When the trio had reached the bottom, Rongo proceeded onward as if no one were following him in the first place. The hallway matched the length that they had just descended and was no brighter, with metal walls bearing signs of rust and adding to the gentle chill, if maybe giving off a creepy vibe. It was quiet, with footsteps haunting the silence alongside the munching of gum between at least Jetha’s ears. They passed a door on the left somewhere in the middle that read "Storage". The corridor ended with one other door that read nothing. Rongo paused at this one, halting the train whether it had wanted to stop or not. He slowly turned around, that blue snout of his moving side to side, eyes passing from Herrith to Jetha before settling on Herrith.

“Once I unlock this door and we step through it, it will close and lock again. It will only be opened a second time if I so wish it. Understand?”

He knew that he needed no nod from Jetha. She’d gone through this before. More than once.

“Further, whatever you see here, unsee it by the time this door opens again. If you don’t…” Rongo trailed off, stared in silence; unblinking purple eyes squaring on Herrith. Then he smiled with a shrug.

“Well, no one will care anyway! All that said, I hope I make myself clear..?”

Jetha picked up that his words were spoken half in question and half in statement. Once minds were made up, Rongo turned back around, entered his code, and opened the door. Jetha, once again, was first to follow.

The room before them was different than that above them. In the main bar upstairs, it was much like stepping into any other cantina in Eisley, albeit with decor and odor evocative of a pleasure lounge. It wasn’t exactly inaccurate, what with all the hookah and the other stuff, night or day. This new vicinity (for Herrith at least), however, was like walking into a ship’s cargo hold—if that hold were equipped with empty computer stations, windowless cabinets, windowless doors that could easily have led to prison cells, and a few fish tanks. A gumfish floated like an idiot in one. “Petal” was its name, if Jetha’s memory were anything but useless. Still alive..?

There was nothing decorative about this room, whose spacious area was rather revealing of their truly being beneath the ground and not simply in some bar’s cellar. For Jetha, there was little and less to look at. She stood with her arms folded, letting the weight of her backpack remind her that it was still there—just in case she would need to unsling it. As for the pistol holstered to her right thigh, well, there was a reason that such a secret room permitted guests to carry. A guard sat at every corner of four, taken to a datapad, a cigarette, a drink or ogling the two sexy Zeltrons who had just entered. Regardless, they all sported a carbine by their chairs. And that was only the beginning of security that Jetha thought it pointless to get into. So did Rongo.

“So, Jetha…” The Rodian stood facing the two women with his fingertips bouncing off one another, his lips spread as though the promise of profit might drool out between them. “...Herrith…” Jetha rolled her eyes. Here it comes. “...Would either or even both of you like another kiss, ehhh...somewhere else? Heh.”

 

[Herrith]

Herrith didn't want to think about how personal a Rodian's tongue could get.

She knew from experience as well as from this moment in time. Being a slave, specifically a cafarel, meant you had to do quite a lot of things you really didn't want to do. Over time she felt less morally disgusted by it, but more personally insulted. The woman let Jetha do the rest of the talking as she flicked the gum off her knee. She then slowly scratched Jetha's thigh with her saliva-coated fingers as they stood up, following Rondo throughout his bar and descending into the lowest depth of Hell. Why did the creepy rooms always have to be downstairs? Below ground? They went through a door that only unlocked on Rondo's orders, with Herrith following Jetha and trying to look as comfortable as she could in a situation like this. An urge to grab her hand came, and she shoved it down her list of bad ideas.

Last thing she wanted was to lose a friend while being in some kind of sex dungeon. They passed a couple more rooms, some with armed guards that looked like they could cause some trouble. Herrith winked at one as they eventually stopped and their Rodian friend decided to try and take things to the next stage. She immediately decided to pay Jetha back and put an arm around her shoulder with a very dashing smile.

"Oh, I'm sure Jetha, my love, would adore spending some time with you first. For old friends' sake, of course. Plus, you're going to have to warm up if you think you're taking me on so easily, dear."

Ah, there were so many ways this could go wrong. Damned impulse revenge quips.

 

[Die Shize]

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The setting dribbled with salacity. The stench of lewd men infested the air like parasites in a womb. There was a painting here and it wasn’t pretty, particularly when that painting was looked at through the eyes of two women. Two Zeltrons. Two Zeltron women in a locked room with no way out, with four armed guards and one of the most lecherous souls on Eisley. A chamber that contained several doors and cabinets with no way of seeing what waited within without opening them outright. This was not the kind of picture that a person would think of if they had valued their own body, and truly only the fish could serve as testimony to whatever foul play took place in this den.

An arm wrapped around Jetha’s body, though she remained with her own two crossed and but blinked Rongo’s way at Herrith’s antics. I would wager that “adore” is something of an overstatement… Through the corner of her eye, Jetha caught the widened lips of her accomplice, digesting her words only for her stomach to unsettle. Then it all became clear. It was Jetha’s turn to smile.

Oh, the haunted hall beneath Rongo’s Roadhouse was no doubt his own private pleasure palace when he wanted it to be, but Herrith might soon be breathing a sigh of relief when her own revelation came to.

“The lass exaggerates.” Jetha turned her face to her fellow Zel. “This one, she’s as sweet as a Meiloorun melon and as feisty as a jexxel in heat.” She winked, then looked back at their host. “Not that you’ll be tasting her honey, or mine, for that matter. Honey.”

There was a pause between the Zeltron and the Rodian, four eyes gazing into one another with lips as rigid as lines. Then, those four lips spread, and the chuckling commenced.

“You can hardly blame a man of my standing for trying, old gal!” Rongo never failed to amuse himself at his own succumbing to the power of the pheromone, particularly where both Zeltrons had a natural knack for a positive emotional exterior, regardless of what wars might be waging within.

Fortunately for Herrith and Jetha, their bodies wouldn’t be getting the basement treatment this morning. For as long as Jetha had known the fool, Rongo had always managed to break his loop of getting entranced by the sweet substances secreted from his Zeltron customer, and then business began. The biological programming was as intoxicating to him as spice in a pipe. He enjoyed the chase as much as the capture, even if he never quite succeeded at the latter.

“No, I guess this Rodian will have to settle for pinching something else between his fingers...”

Jetha frowned behind two lips that smiled. A positively charming image, that. “Indeed. I’ve got the credits, as long as you’ve got the goods…” She looked this way and that way as though scoping for a restroom. “...Behind which one of these doors, now?”

Rongo chortled. “Ahh, first I see the credits, then you see what waits behind the door.”

That was fair enough. Some things never changed, and truth be told she might have been worried if his business strategy had. It was usually a sure sign that something was amiss, beyond questionable circumstances. Without a word, Jetha withdrew a case from her pocket and opened it for Rongo to see the chits lined up inside. Just as his hand budged, she closed the case and pocketed it.

“First you open the door, then you scan the credits.” She smiled sweetly.

Rongo shrugged. “Fair enough. Follow me.”

The guards lifted their heads and sat more attentively as their employer moved forward and paused at the door without looking back.

“Your friend, Jetha… Herrith, wasn’t it? I trust that she’s as trustworthy as you are...right?”

There was a reason that Rongo had spoken in the third person. My guest, my responsibility. Jetha squared her gaze on Herrith, and there was no smile on her face this time.

“If there was ever a time to go back, that time went out with the other door that sealed us inside this room.” Her eyes went either which way toward the corners of that room. The situation had already been spoken of, but it seemed prudent to emphasize the point. “Second thoughts are nonexistent, love. It’s one way or no way now.”

 

[Herrith]

Herrith was really, really, deep down hoping that this wasn't going where she thought this was going--and it wasn't. Though she said nothing and showed nothing, there was a long internal sigh and a smile flooding onto her face which just about said what she was thinking. Thank the Force, everything and everyone ever. Her hand slid down and off of Jetha's shoulder and she crossed her arms with a clearing of her throat. Though this was awkward, she could only hope this helped with their meeting, however doubtful that was after all.

It seemed there was business to be done, and as boring as that seemed, anything was better than what it could have been. She took a brief pause as the Rodian seemed to have doubts about her ability to keep secrets, and she shook her head with a short laugh while Jetha reached out to try to defend her friend. She brushed hair out of her eyes as she rose an eyebrow.

"Love, I wouldn't be alive for this long if I couldn't keep a little secret. If you're that paranoid, I'll wait out here with your lovely guards. No issues there."

Of course, she doubted that he would do that, seeing as that would be, on her math, 50% of the eye candy and 150% the danger, though she never did know how Rodians thought sometimes.

 

[Die Shize]

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Here in a chamber beneath a bar, a number of eyes were glimpsing and gazing every which way. Telescreens, dirty magazines, stirred martinis, stupid fish or two Zeltron women sticking out like sore red thumbs. Rongo the Rodian had his eyes shifting from both, but one of those women was too busy gazing at the other. Jetha couldn’t put her finger on what exactly had beguiled her about Herrith in that moment.

Maybe it was her shared appreciation for a witty tongue. Maybe it was her composure in the face of canines and creeps. Maybe it was the relief that no bolts would be flying at least anytime soon. Or maybe it was the odd and almost unsettling feeling that Jetha received upon glimpsing those bright green eyes, as if she were looking in a mirror and liking what she saw at the same time as not. She felt a pang of pity that coiled around praise. That scar. Maybe it’s the same as my own except on the outside. For now, Jetha settled for satisfaction and regarded her associate with a smile and a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re with me now, sister. For what I came to collect I need more than my own two hands.” She winked at Herrith then slapped Rongo on his own shoulder. “Right, then! Lead the way, my blue-skinned, big-eyed friend.”

Rongo’s pouty lips spread in a grin as minute as his mouth. “Big eyes only for you, Jetha.” He roved the purple galaxies he saw with over the only other Zeltron in the room, no trace of concern on his vacant visage. “You too, of course.” Of course. With that, the Rodian gave his right arm a small jerk. A black object that could have been a gun emerged from his sleeve for his fingers to wrap around, yet this device produced only buttons instead of bullets or bolts. His finger tapped the remote and one of the metal doors began to spread apart and slide into opposite walls. Rongo bid the Zeltrons to follow him into the exclusion zone that had just been opened up for two pink suns and a blue comet.

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Inside was nothing all that remarkable. It was storage space if ever there was space for storage, with sealed cabinets, crates and other containers stacked and stored amid computer stations and stationary consoles. A generator hugged a wall beside a couple of water capsules as tall as an adult with murky glass that permitted no view as to what was behind it. There were cameras, a locked cage with blasters and other armaments and a combat droid coiled and motionless in a corner of the room with its head bowed. It was difficult to tell if it was waiting to be purchased or waiting to find purchase for its blaster bolts to fly into intruders. The floor was a pattern of hexagons, the centermost one lit up in green. Rongo came to stand upon it before he turned around and clicked his remote, sealing the entrance behind all three occupants. His head turned from woman to woman.

“How about a drink?”

Jetha clapped her hands. “You’ve read my mind. And here I thought that we were the telepathic ones.”

“Whiskey?” Rongo spoke while shifting over to a counter that was as much for showcasing items as making drinks.

“I’ve made my mark upstairs already,” Jetha shook her head. “Mon Island, if you’d be so sweet.”

“Coming right up.” Rongo reached beneath the counter. “And for the other lovely lady?”

Jetha glanced at Herrith for a response before letting her gaze wander around the room. It never seemed to change, the crates and other containers collected together or scattered apart but always in the same position as she remembered, or so it seemed. She just then caught her crossed arms budge as her hand rubbed up and down. Chilly. Maybe it’s just me. Rongo liked it cold as much as Jetha, especially on Tatooine, but this room always gave her the chills. Maybe it’s not the room… Maybe it was just the memories.

Moments later and Rongo handed the ladies their drinks. Jetha felt her nerves calm before it would ever show after the first few sips. Named after the Mon Calamari City Islands, the Mon Island Iced Tea was a sweet and sour mix of vodka, tequila, rum, gin, cola, orange liquer and Calamarian tea. A teenager's first choice at bottom-barrel restaurants or an experienced drinker's ticket to total refreshment when the concoction came from top shelf booze. Rongo had his faults but alcohol was not one of them.

"Delicious, my dear. In fact, I might just buy a bottle of Maker's Mark for the road and make my own Mon Island's with your finest whiskey."

“I'll put it on my tab.” Rongo sipped from his gin as Jetha nodded in thanks. He gestured with his glass around the room. "Of course, you're more than welcome to acquire anything else of your heart's desire in Rongo's Roadhouse. Card decks and splicer decks, spoofers and subwoofers, data sticks and death sticks, prosthetics and guns to make people need them. Even got discount tickets to the Boonta's Eve Classic. Rongo's got it all!"

Jetha smirked, half-amused and half-annoyed. She wasn't here for podraces or any of the above, at least not today. Rongo was just trying to maximize his profits like any merchant would before the big buy. Though, who was Jetha to stand in anyone's way? That extended to Herrith, who she allowed to chime in just in case she felt like shopping.

 

[Herrith]

Herrith's eyes locked with Jetha's for a long second before winking back and returning her stare to the Rodian currently before them. A small smile curled her lips as the other Zeltron cracked a decently vulgar joke. She licked her teeth as her face returned to its same neutral-yet-eager expression which was always around to drown her true intentions. An eye roll followed the Rodian's next attempt at a charming conversation, her distaste only growing for his species the longer she spent with him. And frankly, the longer she spent with any Rodian in any vicinity.

"Well I suppose you're lucky I'm good with my hands, Jetha."

A side-cast smirk as they wandered into the next room. Luckily for their Rodian friend, he had produced a remote and not a lethal weapon. She might have had quite a few bad things to do had he decided to kill one or both or them. Well, he could certainly try. Once inside the next room, the Rodian offered drinks. Maybe that was their olive branch. Or a good way to get spiked. Jetha seemed trusting, and requested a rather exotic specimen of alcohol. Certainly not an awful idea. Still connected to Jetha by way of arm and hand, she shrugged and looked at the drink.

"Make it two of those, if you could."

Herrith could feel the shift in the air as her Zeltron comrade felt a slight disturbance. Her hand nudged the woman in the side as a sign of reassurance as it subsided and she managed to take a few steps away from the girl, a long sip of her specialty drink making its way down her throat as her eyes settled on Rongo again, who was now looking to get some sales in at the expense of their business trip. She cut her sip short and glanced at Jetha before shaking her head abruptly.

"No. Afraid I came here for a very specific reason. Exotic shopping--as good as this drink is--was not that reason."

She made it a priority to flash an 'oh well' expression on her face as she lowered her glass from her mouth and waited for the two to start talking.

@Die Shize

 

[Die Shize]

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Jetha smiled at Herrith’s reply while Rongo tittered, lifting his own drink to her in good impression. “Drinking can put a person in a shopping spirit before too late, sugar. Sometimes people come to Rongo’s Roadhouse with only drinks on their mind but then their credits line my pockets in more ways than one. I find reasons where others don’t have any. Exotic goods, exotic drinks . . . ” He trailed off just long enough to take a step closer toward Herrith. “ . . . Exotic women…”

“Ahem.” Jetha cleared her throat, roaming the rim of her glass with a lone finger.

Rongo shrugged. “Of course, where some people come to me for little to no reason, others come for a very specific reason. To business, then.” He set his glass down and paced over to the center of the room where three angled lines were lit up in green, his remote in hand. “I can only take one of you with me to verify the merchandise. The other is free to wait here and help herself to a lounge chair, the viewscreen—I think nuna-ball’s about to start—and some drinks.” He held up a finger. “And little else. The room knows if something is missing and the room tells Rongo everything.”

Rongo’s speech was cordial enough but Jetha received the message before it had even been delivered. There was little room to negotiate with him or Herrith at this point, so she didn’t hesitate to put herself forward. “Well, guess yours truly in love and liquor has been elected yet again.” She gulped her drink and gave it to Herrith, turning to face her upon standing on the same center shape, hands on hips. “Won’t be long, darling. Ten minutes tops.” What sounded like a hum not too dissimilar from the generator was a musical cue as the center hexagon started moving and steadily descended, the shifting platform’s hexagonal light going from green to yellow as Rodian and Zeltron were lowered.

“I’ll be back in time for tea.” Jetha reassured, the floor’s edge now at knee’s height. “Mon Island tea, that is. The rest of it. And don’t hesitate to pour me a brandy. Cassandran brandy to be precise. Koja-rum if this ugly Rodian has it. Either or. And a Jallerian Chaser! That Mon Island’s got me feeling fruitier than a HAIRY—”

Even raising her voice as she had went to no avail; Jetha’s speech was cut off by a metal shutter that suddenly shot across the floor from beneath it, closing the gap that the descending platform had produced. What now served for her and Rongo as a makeshift ceiling also ensured that no one could look below to see what other deep dark world resided beneath Room Number 4.


About ten minutes later and the floor started humming again, faint and cavernous as though the underworld itself were trying to escape above. Hell or the black market, not sure which. The metal shutter opened up in time to keep one Rodian and one Zeltron from being turned into a jelly sandwich, their two heads popping up from the hole in the floor. In moments, the elevating platform was back in its position, the floor intact once more, and the hexagonal light in the center turning from yellow to green. Jetha stood with her hands wrapped around the straps of her backpack and was otherwise empty-handed. Rongo stood beside her, turning his remote around absentmindedly. They both looked for Herrith.

“We have a deal.” Rongo stated.

Jetha licked her lips. “And now we need a drink.”

@Herrith

 

[Herrith]

Herrith eyed the Rodian like she was a bear eyeing a human standing in front of its cub. Her jaw set slightly as her hand rubbed her cheek, one foot stepping back as much as their hospitable Rodian moved forward. Luckily, Jetha got him back on track, and she took the woman's drink with a forced smile. Ten minutes tops. Yes, of course. Her eyes shot between the teo one last time as she took a couple steps away from the elevator and found herself a seat, setting down Jetha's glass on a table. Her legs crossed and she shifted, rolling her eyes at the rapidly fading female voice calling for more drinks. She probably remembered about half of whatever the hell the woman was asking her to grab.

Just needed to stay here...patiently. She shifted again, mind wandering to all the exotic goods Rongo had mentioned. Her eyes slowly tracked to the various items exposed to her in the room and she looked away, shaking her head. No, let's not muck all this up... She bit her cheek and sat for a moment. Then abruptly stood up and walked over to the bar counter, hopping over it and kneeling down next to all the stuff. Her hand hovered along the lines of rare and exotic beauties of spirits, stopping at one which she pulled from below. No remorse on her mind while she hopped onto the counter and popped the top, sniffing what was inside and then taking a long swig.

"Mm. Zeltronian liquor...it's been years."

Herrith chuckled to herself as she took another short sip and then capped the bottle, returning it to where it belonged. Cassandran brandy...quite the bold choice. She picked up the bottle and poured out a glass for Jetha, and then getting her last request, sparing herself from the latter while pouring a last glass of the brandy. Zeltron drinks were no small matter, and maybe a large swig wasn't the smartest idea. She leaned against the counter to balance herself and then sipped at her brandy, some glasses set aside for her partner in crime.

***

As the door opened, her hands outstretched dramatically toward the two. Herrith blinked heavily, her glass of brandy very empty.

"Ah, a deal! Good. Jetha, love, I have a bit of Cassandran brandy for you and whatever else you asked for."

A pause.

"Apologies, Rodian. My memory, ah, cut short a little. I don't think I recall you asking for anything?" A shrug. "At any rate, you never said the drinks were off limits. I took the liberty of serving myself while you two left me all on my lonesome."

That last sentence had a slightly spiteful undertone despite her cheery expression and slight intoxication.

@Die Shize

 

[Die Shize]

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Sometimes when a person held their hands up it was all Jetha could do to return the gesture out of instinct, as though someone were throwing her a ball and she had better catch it or be disgraced. A brow cocked above eight fingers and two thumbs that graciously accepted the glass as bestowed by her beloved buddy, though her eyes were already roving round the room for ‘whatever else she had asked for’. Cassandran brandy—check. Koja-rum—either or. Jallerian Chaser—somewhere. Rest of my Mon Island Iced Tea—on the table. Before she could so much as murmur a thank-you, Herrith was already on the Rodian. Rongo was feeling it. He parted his lips, took a breath to speak but was interrupted by Herrith’s continued speech and the shrug that came with.

In a moment, Jetha and Rongo exchanged a look. The Rodian moseyed toward the bar while the Zeltron held up her glass to the only other member of her species in Room Number 4. “To deals made!” Whatever resulted from that toast, the glass reached Jetha’s lips and she savored the succulent taste. Brandy for the upper class, she had heard of Cassandran brandy, but she dared not let her own station miss out on the sweet nectar. Eyeing with instinct the beverages of her pink counterpart, the curiosity settled in. What have you been drinking that I have not? It wasn’t easy for a Zeltron to feel the effects of alcohol, getting tipsy where others would get drunk from the same drink, so clearly there was a missing piece to this puzzle.

Jetha strolled after Rongo like an investigator without a badge when she spotted the bottle that was as unmistaken as a drunk felt with no clothes on at a tuxedo party. Ah, she thought, lifting the bottle in one hand with her brandy in the other. That explains it. “The spirit of our homeplanet, not that I’ve ever been there myself. Definitely the good stuff.” She popped the cap and took a whiff; spiced cherry, licorice, honey, with hints of floral rose or violet and earthen tobacco or coffee. Amid the entire concoction was a potent aroma of the power to put a lesser species on the floor after only a few gulps. Not for the faint of heart, love. Yet here Herrith stood, still on her feet and then some. A few swigs of this was all a Zeltron needed to feel a little tipsy, particularly amid whatever else had already been on the menu.

“A girl’s never alone with an open bar,” Jetha teased, flicking a finger against the bottle of Zeltronian liquor with approval. “And definitely not anymore. We’re not quite done yet… Rongo?”

Rongo met her gaze, almost forgetting himself as he raised his glass of freshly poured gin. “To deals to be made!” Jetha could toast to that too, her brandy kissing the ceiling from feet away before it found the back of her throat with little left to savor. Rongo clicked his remote and the floor started moving again. This time, the two hexagonal edges just around the elevator in the middle began to ascend, sliding upward above the floor instead of beneath. There was no warning this time, Rongo just presuming his two clients would step back as appropriate. It would have been the only course; an entire wall now framed the perimeter where once the two hexagons were nothing but floor, blocking from view the only door marked “4” from Jetha where she stood opposite at the bar with Rongo.

Parts of the newly risen wall had cavities, yet with top and bottom remaining sheer metal that continued to block eyesight from seeing what lurked in the lair beneath. However, three parts of the wall were not so vacant, rather embedded with metal containers painted white and standing upright. They formed a triangle at separate points of the wall and were no more than six feet in length. Containers they clearly were, with lid-like tops facing outward, handles on either end for carrying, a computer screen on either side and no visual as to what waited within. Jetha paced forward to one of the three containers, Herrith in her line of sight.

“This is what we came here for, hon. This is what I'm buying."

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@Herrith

 

[Herrith]

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Herrith stared right into Jetha's eyes as the woman took the glass, smiling and winking while the girl took a sip. Then she looked down at Jetha once more, who was now searching for what was making the woman rather tipsy. She pointed at the bottle and snorted while the woman pointed out the stuff she'd stolen a sip from. Upon Jetha calling a toadt, Herrith laughed lightly, tapping her empty glass with a nail while the two toasted and mocked an empty sip from her glass. She glanced at Rongo while they drank and then stood straight up on the hard floor, checking her footing and laughing quietly again.

"Ah, a deal...a deal..."

Her head shot up at the sound of the containers rising from the floor near the elevator, taking a step forward and to Jetha as they appeared. Her lips curled into another bright smile as she abruptly pulled the woman into a tight hug with an arm. Her free hand brushed her own hair out of her face and she laughed again, eyes flicking over the crates with a slight curiosity as her other hand squeezed Jetha's shoulder.

"So, what's in the crates, missy?"

 

[Die Shize]

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Jetha’s eyes widened as a foreign force took hold of her, coming out of nowhere and with little invitation, but it took less than an instant to identify the culprit. Then, all at once, she was calm and steady and receptive to the hold. Her gaze swept over the woman who had grabbed her into a hug and epitomized all at once a friend and a sister yet also someone who had a special understanding for physical contact that transcended norms. Many in the galaxy flocked to a certain world to understand, in sensationally sensual ways, the meaning of the Zeltron, but truth be told only Zeltrons could truly understand Zeltrons—and they didn’t necessarily need pheromones or emotional telepathy to do so.

Returning the gesture, Jetha wrapped an arm around her accomplice and the two stood staring at the closed container of three. She felt the squeeze on her shoulder and smiled in amusement, knowing well that the curiosity wasn’t barren in basis. After all, Jetha had brought Herrith along for this new ride with the promise of payment and so far all the gal had received were a few drinks and the toxic waste of Rongo the Rodian and his abyss of shadows that grew shadier with each depth. All in good time, love. I keep my promises. I’ve got this.

“Prizes and payments, hon.” Jetha emptied her brandy and held out both ladies' glasses to Rongo without so much as a glance his way. His smug smile was felt all the same, no doubt catching her two-fingered gesture for two more. Licking her lips, she breathed in and kept her gaze trained on the container. “As motionless as the hunk of metal in the corner of the room with its head bowed, and certainly more expensive...” She placed a hand on the container as if to touch what was inside. “Droids.” She looked left, looked right. “Three of them. Ones worth more credits than six Rongo’s, if ever the galaxy were so accursed.”

In perfect timing, the Rodian just showed up with two fresh glasses of Cassandran brandy, one for each lady. He knew better than to speak and simply ogled. It was what it was. Accepting the glass, Jetha took a swig. “Unfortunately, they can’t be opened—yet. Buyer’s request, seller’s requirement, risk to the merchandise once set inside, but take my word for it that I’ve verified the goods and all is accounted for like a Muun’s pocket change.” She turned to face Herrith, making enough movement to break their womanly grasp as she stared intently into her counterpart’s eyes, looking as serene as sincere. They barely knew each other and yet, for Jetha, it once more felt like she was looking in the mirror, a hint of intoxication in the reflection or not.

“That’s my word, Herrith. I’ve got this. But, before we go any further from here, I need your word—your word that you’re with me. I’ll be taking these containers to someone who will reward me for them more than I paid to acquire them, not that our Rodian friend is complaining. You’ll partake in that reward, plus any traveling expenses you feel up to negotiating, up front and on the way.” Another swig, her nerves settling before they could ever sizzle. “What do you say?”

 

[Herrith]

Herrith kept her smile as Jetha looked her over for a moment, arm squeezing a little tighter. Was she a little buzzed? Yes. Was she losing her professionalism and fluency in acting? Probably. Was her mind muddy and only thinking about the fact she was squeezing a Zeltron close for the first time in a while? Very likely. But Jetha returned the favor and only bolstered her confidence. The woman also managed to begin explaining the what of their cargo. Droids. Valuable ones. Credits, pay, fortune, stuff like that. Somewhere down the line she'd ended up with a drink in her hand and subsequently took a sip of what she identified as the earlier brandy.

The embrace was over rather quickly though, and Herrith's eyes grazed over the containers again. Jetha was speaking, and her focus shifted that way. Something about the minutiae of the deal. Not that she cared. A small laugh escaped her lips.

"If we weren't being at least slightly professional, I'd probably kiss you right now, Jetha."

As for the next phase of any terms she had, Herrith glanced at Rongo and then back to Jetha. Her eyes scanned the air for a second before she spoke finally, misty expression giving way to a little clarity. "If it comes to mind, I most definitely will speak it. I say that's a reasonable deal, love."

Another short laugh as she downed the rest of her brandy. "You're being rather dramatic about this, though. I came for a reason, I'll fulfill that reason. Simple as that."

Appropriate hand gestures accompanying her words.

 

[Die Shize]

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The two Zeltrons stood there leaning into each other with their gazes. Where Herrith’s eyes were misty seas that reflected her light-headed buzz, Jetha was no less lost in her own ocean of haziness, if more the result of deep thought. Her amiable smile claimed her lips while her partner’s words echoed in her head, the emptied glass certainly not the first or the last. If only drink could drown drama. My whole life would be a different set of circumstances under the stars.

Jetha had noticed how Herrith had barely even seemed to care about the conditions of the job or the money that came with. Or maybe she was just too tipsy to think on it. Then again, maybe all she really wanted out of this was an adventure. She would get one. Jetha abandoned her persona of business negotiations and decided to take cue from her friend. Down the hatch went the brandy and the two empty glasses were taken to the nearest trash compactor or whatever it was that Rongo would never admit to being.

“I guess I just needed a bit of loosening up.” She sent a playful pat to Herrith’s stomach. “These infernally drab walls feel like they’re closing in on me like a trash compactor.” The thought made her rapidly blink at Rongo in a double-take. “I think we’re ready to finalize this shindig.”

Rongo gave a mild nod in approval, setting the glasses on the counter and his finger on his remote. In mere moments, the room’s entrance opened and a single figure stood in the doorway. It was a giant of a creature, a little over six feet tall if halfway to seven and then some, bulk-bodied, broad-shouldered, furry in face and everything else. The ZeHethbra in a coat of brown and snazzy suit just stood and stared, his massive hands resting idly at his sides and the three scars across his snout daring anyone to stare back.

“You remember Teddy, I take it?” Rongo quizzed.

“I do indeed." Not exactly the most difficult person to forget. "Though it’s been a while.” Jetha gestured between her fellow Zeltron and the ZeHethbra who remained as motionless as the doorway. “Herrith, meet Teddy, Rongo’s friend. Teddy, meet Herrith, my friend.” Whatever Herrith’s response, Teddy emitted a low yet audible growl for his part in the introductions and went back to staring at pretty much nothing. “Teddy will be helping us finalizing this shindig.”

On that note, Teddy entered the room proper with the door sealing behind him. Jetha watched as Rongo pressed his remote again and made her wish she had one of her own. A button for sliding my boots on and off. Now there’s a thought. What Rongo’s button did was release each of the three containers from their locks at the same time as switching on their anti-gravity mechanisms. In an instant, the containers were pushed forward and flipped to become horizontal above the floor, lids facing the ceiling. Jetha had placed a hand on Herrith’s arm to gently guide them both out of the way beforehand.

Remote controls, however, could only have so many buttons. Rongo instead paced over to the container nearest the Zeltrons and interacted with the viewscreen on the side, typing briefly until a metal plate slid away just adjacent. A black viewscreen was revealed. Rongo looked up at Jetha with a silent question before she waved her approval for him to explain things. He squared his gaze on Herrith, the only person in the room who might have needed the rundown.

“All three of these containers, eh, contain high-level security that Rongo has since come to admire. On either side of the container are two viewscreens, one for text input and the other for biometric input. As you gauged just now, you must unlock the biometric viewscreen by first inputting a password into the other. In turn, a registered handprint must be approved into the biometric scanner.” He pointed at each aspect as appropriate.

“This must be done on either side of the container—password then hand-scan.” He tapped his fist against the metal. “These beauties are state of the art, honey. So secure that I bet your slicer friend beside you has never managed to crack the deeper codes, heh.”

Jetha rolled her eyes. "Neither have you."

Rongo went on. “The containers were purposely designed to require two separate hand-scans from two separate individuals, with one password shared between them. The only people who can lock or unlock them, then, are those with a registered password and hand-scan—except where people like me delete their registration for others to input their own and take control. Of course, the password itself is needed to access the reset interface and from there it's just a matter of scanning your handprint one last time, then the system is fresh for new credentials. And so, like a golden card at Pazaak, here’s my hand…”

As Rongo’s hand was placed on the biometric scanner, a big brown bear appeared beside Jetha, a glass in hand. She felt her brow quiver at it. “...Is that my Mon Island Iced Tea?” The ZeHethbra didn’t even look her way as he calmly took a long sip. Jetha could only blink.

“Okay, Teddy, your turn.” Rongo called. Teddy quietly growled and went as bidden, heading to the other side of the container to repeat the password and handprint reset. When all was done, Rongo looked from one Zeltron to the other. “Now, ladies, it’s your turn.”

Jetha smiled at Herrith, hoping she was at least sober enough to understand all of this mumbo-jumbo. “Like I said, hon—I need more than my own two hands.”

 

[Herrith]

Herrith zoned out massively while Jetha continued to converse with Rongo and what sounded like a very furry newcomer. Something about a hand scan, needing both their prints and a password to actually get stuff unlocked and make sure they got paid. All well and good, but somebody had the bright idea of smacking her on the stomach. Jetha, of course. Not that it hurt, just she was very, very zoned out in her intoxicated mind. A part of her realized she had gotten introduced earlier, and the Zeltron gave a lazy wave as she approached the handprint thing.

"Yeah, I hear you there...where do I stick my palm? Different place?"

Wait...did he call me a slicer earlier? Huh? Another shrug as she looked at Jetha and at the crate.

OOC: Post sucks! Sorry!