Ali frowned mockingly, as if her feelings were hurt, despite the fact that getting laid wasn't her purpose for being in the Underground that night. The frown was soon replaced by a smile; she liked the sound of sex kitten, though it was one she'd heard before. Her face wrinkled sharply, however, as Patricia recommended the hairy, burly man at her side for companionship, as if she'd sniffed at sour blue milk. "No thank you..." Ali muttered, trying not to appear too disgusted at the thought of being with a man. She began feeling as if this were all ending up a bit...anticlimactic, and she wanted to be useful. The armored woman turned back to her duties, giving Ali a moment to think.
Why am I here? A voice inside her head asked as she leaned against the crate behind her.
Easy, I'm bored. Ali almost laughed out loud at herself for asking such a dumb question.
Clearly. But why are you here? You have a duty to the Republic, as a soldier.
Ali wrinkled her nose, perturbed. I feel stagnant there.
All ready? The voice replied. It hasn't been a year yet. Give it time.
Life only gives you so much of it, I don't want to waste a second of it. Ali felt as if that settled the issue. She slapped her palm against her thigh and made her way to Patricia's side, opposite the big burly, hairy man. It was easy to see how expansive Patricia's operation was, and Ali herself couldn't imagine juggling all that responsibility. That was probably why she was thirty-five with no spouse or long term commitments of any kind, save for her service with the Republic, which she nipped off on what was pretty much a "if I want to stay" basis.
"Patricia, Patty, do you mind if I call you Patty? Okay, Patty it is." Ali clapped her hands together again and attempted to catch the woman's eye, though she made it a point not to interfere with her transactions.
"How about, I work for you, part time. Do you do any off-world sales or trades? Because being with the Republic military (Ali whispered these words rather conspicuously), I can help things along through customs on Onderon and other worlds." She leaned against the available working space, making sure to move when something in her area was needed or a customer wanted to view an item.
Within her own mind, Ali felt as if she were going insane. It couldn't have been the spice, the stuff wasn't even doing it for her. A buzz was all she ever got from the drug anymore and she refused to experiment with higher dosages. What drove her crazy was the thought that she was throwing away the opportunity to succeed at something, but what her heart kept telling her was that if success meant eternal boredom and a lack of satisfaction, then happiness only existed in failure.
The thought was childish and immature but only from a certain point of view, and when Ali considered how much more she enjoyed living in the moment than striving for long periods of time toward attainable goals, it only made more sense. In her mind, she wasn't taking her military prospects and throwing them away, she was taking the opportunity to do the most fantastic thing she could think of with it. If that meant helping a drug smuggler and weapons dealer with their trade, then so be it. Ali was curious how the seedier criminal crafts worked anyhow. She didn't know the first thing about selling weapons, regardless of how much she knew about them.
[member="Patricia Susan Garter"]
