Don't Forget My Dog! [Walker]

[Razelle Breuner]

THE RIME, LOW ORBIT ABOVE HASERIA
Local Time: about 6 hours after Raz drugged an underweight ladyboy

From the cockpit of her GX1 Short Hauler, Razelle Breuner checked a whole plethora of displays. Local news was still hot on her case about a "kidnapping," and an "event" at the Haseria faire. It'd been like that ever since they broke atmo. Fortunately, on any major metropolitan planet, the amount of outbound traffic was far too great to get a good handle on any single ship when you didn't know what to look for. On top of that, Raz's ship was quite intentionally as bland as possible, a civilian model with as much combat or smuggling potential as a crate of potatoes. She was a low priority...which was very much her plan.

That kid...she couldn't turn him in. Not for money. He was "wanted for questioning" in a hit-and-run manslaughter case. He'd been on the lam for months, if not years. Chances were the second he got back he'd be tried, sentenced, and locked away for a very long time. He was harmless to anyone but himself, and no one deserved that. Even so? She definitely needed the money, and she was entirely ready and willing to toss some nameless nobody to the dogs if it meant another month or two of canned nutripaste instead of starvation.

So why oh why was she still checking her cameras?

With a frown, Raz grunted, kicked her boots against an innocent console, and tapped the controls to the lobby holoreceiver. As she stood out of her seat and stormed from the cockpit like she'd just lost an argument she was extremely invested in, Raz paid no mind to the other present inhabitant of her ship and fell onto a sofa to watch...whatever the hell was on the Haseria local holonet.

[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]

 

[Walker Twin-Sleeves]

Walker lounged. The abrupt twists and turns of rhis pseudo-incarceration had been a little hard to follow, and Walker assumed that they mostly had to do with the compact assassin-droid Razelle had for a heart gaining the power to feel emotions. She wasn't complaining. Anything that kept her off a leash was preferred, but a longer leash was fine, too. Raz seemed to prefer women, and that was also fine; Walker had been born and raised as one, and largely only viewed gender as a matter of convenience or a way to exploit an angle.

On this ship, long legs and girly shorts were a solid way to work an angle - not that Raz had much else for her to pick from. When Raz stormed in, Walker was idly filling her nails and glanced up to offer a cautious smile. Cautious mostly because her legs were still secured by cuffs and if this woman wanted to take her anger out on somebody. Even so, she had to ask.

"Hey, I totally get not wanting to leave planet until the heat dies down, and I'm your prisoner and everything." Walker ventured carefully. "But can I hire you?"

She shifted on her end of the couch, manacles jangling. "They probably impounded my Washburne - which is fine, it's hotter than you'd believe and not just because the thermodanglies are shot. My stuff is there, and I'd like some clothes, or the money I've got stashed but the law probably took that. But I've got an old engine dog, she doesn't like going anywhere - as old dogs do - and I'd hate if they put the old girl down or something. She's saved my life a half-dozen times, you know?"

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Raz had trust issues. She had trust issues with Fable, for gods' sake, and that girl was too stupid to understand what deception was. She didn't trust anybody she spoke to, and least of all herself; she'd been known to make really bad decisions, and she was the one who had to suffer the consequences. Walker was an evidenced con artist, roughly as trustworthy as Razelle, a career spy, traitor, and frequent double-agent. Nothing he said could be taken at face value.

So when she found herself opening her mouth to reply "Sure," her next moment of conscious thought came with the blinking confusion of an animal that had just been flicked across the nose. What? Well, if Walker could pay anything in the neighborhood of what she was worth, Raz wouldn't feel as bad letting her go. Right? Solid reasoning? "Local security is probably a joke anyway. What's the take?"

Fable had always wanted to try a pet for a while. Maybe this would...work out? Somehow? No matter what she said, Raz's face continued to struggle with things like "emotion" and "expression" as she sorted her way through her thoughts. Why? Why was she even bothering with this?

The Rime hummed quietly. The poem she'd spray-painted around the lobby rotunda hung ominously over her head.

[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]

 

[Walker Twin-Sleeves]

Walker sat up with a mildly more earnest smile, though that didn't mean much coming from a con artist. "You mean aside from the comforting, worldly presence that only an aged bloodhound can provide?" She asked with a smirk, leaning in. As though the destination had EVER been about the journey, that smirk said - we both know better.

"I stashed a few hundred credits in her collar, in case I was ever indisposed and somebody inherited her like I did." Walker confessed. "You know - like how pimps wear chains to pay their bail? That's how I got the idea." She explained proudly. "Chances are, she's still on the ship - she really only moves if she has to, and only makes noise if something's wrong with the engine, so she might not have been found yet. Probably hungry, though."

Walker sat back and laced her fingers over a knee. "But it's only been - what, eight hours since you got me? My old Washburne might still be at the starport by the faire. I've got enough stashed in there to pay you well enough for a dog. A thousand credits?"

 

[Razelle Breuner]

A thousand was...enough to get the lot of them off-planet. Barely enough to cover the logistics of transporting an old, living creature to her ship, pay for fuel for a second takeoff cycle, and feed three mouths instead of one, one of whom probably had a special dietary whatever. And they wouldn't have the time to sack the ship, either, which meant that a thousand and whatever they could grab would be all she'd be getting. This was a bad job.

Razelle fought with herself for several seconds, weighing the value of an old, probably dying animal's life against safety. The happiness of a kid against not tangling with law enforcement. Closure against diving directly into a hot zone looking for stolen goods with a suspected killer. Eventually, her compassion gave way to logic and reason, and she turned Walker's offer down with cool certainty. "Alright, get your stuff ready."

What.

WHY?!

"I'll need you in the cockpit to help me find your ship," her mouth continued as her head spun. "No touching anything but the scanners." Nothing about this was a good idea. Why was she risking a clean getaway and a decent paycheck for... augh. Okay, fine. She was cute. Was it that shallow? Was it just because Fable hadn't been around in weeks, and Raz felt far too lonely for her own good?

No. There was something else there. A lot of those egotistical pricks mentioned something about "knowing yourself" whenever they stopped jacking off to their own super special magical powers. Raz had never put even the least bit of stock in it, and right now...she felt like that might have been a mistake. She didn't know how to feel about this, which was even worse, because she knew how she should feel about it. Angry at her own lack of restraint, bitter about what she was agreeing to do... Instead, all she felt was confused. She needed to talk to Colleen again, apparently.

[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]

 

[Walker Twin-Sleeves]

Walker would have lept to her feet, if they weren't chained. Once they weren't, she did - practically dashing toward the cockpit. It was more of a brisk walk, but she tended to move quickly and with little concern for the world around her. The sort of clumsiness borne of years of growth spurts.

"What 'stuff' might you be speaking of?" Walker asked with an incredulous laugh, twisting around as she swayed around the couch. "Need I remind you, you took me with the clothes on my back and then sliced them to pieces, my good woman. I've no 'stuff' to gather, save my wits and courage!" She explained brightly, walking with her hands behind her back.

"And I assure you, neither are in short supply." Walker added coyly, banging her shoulder against a bulkhead as she walked backwards to keep talking at Razelle. "I suggest we re-infiltrate the faire in disguise - as I was conducting a rather double-dipping operation with the vendor's insurance, and they'll likely have me shot if I show my face again." The words tumbled from her lips in a merry cascade, never really stopping for long. "More is the pity, though, that would have been a terribly solid payday if I ran the numbers right and I assure you that I nearly always do."

"In any case, we save the dog and whatever else we can from my ship, exfiltrate smoothly and safely, and you get a tidy sum and a bounty who double-pinky-promises to behave on the surface, yes?"

 

[Razelle Breuner]

"Yeah, I have an idea about how to approach that little inevitability," Razelle stated simply. Her distracted tone and lack of attention to the blue-haired star-twink in question might have made it a tad ominous. As she led the way to the Rime's cockpit, the blonde pulled out another stimstick and rubbed it quickly along the bulkhead beside her, striking the ignition on the end. It found its way to her lips almost immediately, soothing her craving psychologically, if not physiologically just yet. All of this moral ground she was starting to question was just...ugh. She'd get a drink if speedballing mind-altering substances wasn't one of her big no-no's.

As she took a seat, Raz incidentally filled the air around her with the scent of stim-smoke. A little like roasting caffeine, or a very burnt mint coffee. Her eyes still had to travel over the Rime's controls, because this ship wasn't properly "hers" yet. Flick one, toggle two, press three and four... "I'll set down outside town. I've got a full wardrobe of disguises in Room #5, so we'll take a walk over there when we're done here."

Focus on the task at hand. Don't overthink. Hell, don't think, if possible. Instincts are sharp and immediate and usually correct. Your body knows what to do, don't let your head get in the way. Was that why she was acting like this? Sticking her neck out for some idiot kid without the capacity for compassion or selflessness? ...Actually, maybe, yeah. Walker was a lot like Raz, if she used words to screw people over more than violence. On the run, really good at quieting her guilty conscience, nowhere to return to, focused on The Game... Maybe she didn't want to leave herself high and dry.

That was an uncomfortable thought. Because that was exactly what she'd been doing recently. Not a single favor to herself, which was particularly ironic considering that she was her only priority.

[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]

 

[Walker Twin-Sleeves]

Razelle seemed to be in a zone. Walker was more than happy to leave her there. Maybe it was a psychological 'on the job' headspace thing she did, or maybe she was grappling with some inner demons. Either one was largely bad news for Walker, though mostly if she just turned all that brooding blonde muscle her way. No thank you. Ominous promises and suspicious agreeability aside, she knew a lucky break when she saw one. The dog would probably be okay, even better if Walker could snag her while making good her own escape.

There were no gambles worth making up here. There'd be plenty on the surface, in a crowd. Especially compared to a woman with the raw charisma and likeability of childhood diabetes.

Walker took the co-pilot's seat, jabbering in an absent sort of way that implied that it was more to fill the silence than to communicate or manipulate. She wasn't much of a pilot to begin with, and only seemed to know enough to keep from being an active detriment, but that was due more to absent-mindedness and being clumsy than a compete lack of skill. Smoke and anecdotes hanging in the air, Walker quietly waited for her chance. It would come. It had to

 

[Razelle Breuner]

The Rime screamed to a halt about one mile outside the fairgrounds, her transponder's account automatically charged for the privilege of setting down. A minute or two later, two figures made their way down the boarding ramp. One, blonde-and-pink streaked hair up in pigtails and an what looked to be a high school punk's rendition of a woman's business formal outfit. The other...well...Walker would have to work to live up to her assumed name in eight-inch harlot-red pumps, and would likely lack dignity regardless due to the flared microskirt Razelle had graciously lent her. Raz propped up her sunglasses and turned back to give a quick, snide smirk to the blue-haired girl struggling down the grated boarding ramp.

"You're a natural, snowflake." She was not a natural. Chances were Walker had quite a bit of practice moving in heels. She seemed to pretty fluidly apply whatever gender norms she felt would help her con. Raz could respect that. Didn't mean she'd be any good at moving in pumps. Hell, Razelle had forgotten how to run in pumps. She hadn't had to do it in years. Possibly literally centuries.

Those heels, secured with tiny padlocks on either ankle strap, would be plenty of disincentive to make a break for it. Why she was bothering keeping Walker around was still a mystery to Raz. A lot of things about today were a mystery. She really needed to talk to Dr. Colleen. About a lot of things. Honestly, she could probably spend a whole weekend just seeing her psychiatrist and she'd be totally alright with that. Dump the ship, scrub her hyperspace computer, leave Walker with a few days' food and a Holonet subscription...

[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]

 

[Walker Twin-Sleeves]

Cautiously mincing down the ramp, Walker shot Razelle a withering glare. As it turned out, Razelle DID have a sense of humor - Walker simply didn't care much for being the punchline. "I'm sure you realize, pragmatic soul that you are, that I'm of little use to you with my ankles sprained." She pointed out jovially, a tone that didn't at all match her terse expression. "Not that I don't appreciate your clear admiration for the physical merits of my body - on the contrary - but there IS something to be said for a modicum of sense when preparing a disguise. The point is to AVOID attention."

Walker was well aware of the shape - and length - of her legs. Sometimes even proud, when they came in handy. Trussing them up in cherry-red ladystilts and framing them in a teeny-tiny matching skirt would have the opposite effect. She'd been wearing pants and whistling at girls long enough to know how that would work out. Not to mention that the fairgrounds were more mud than pavement at this point.

Walker checked a datapad in her clutch and wrinkled her nose. "The fireworks should be starting any minute." She conveyed quietly, begrudgingly taking Razelle's arm for both stability and cover. "We should hurry. The ship is in the north-east bays, and it's chilly out here." Likely under observation, but hey. Razelle was allegedly a professional, she's figure it out.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Raz didn't bother to make eye contact for longer than it took to boop Walker's nose in a facsimile of affection before returning her attention to the path in front of them. More accurately, before realigning her cone of vision towards more prominent threats than a huckster in heels. "They're looking for a blonde in military fatigues and a blue-haired man. This is just about as far from that as possible." More importantly, it sharply limited Walker's mobility. She might have to steal a speeder to get off the planet, though.

The worst part of this disguise was that she couldn't smoke. Fortunately, that last stick would keep her up for at least another three hours. It was supposed to go for six, but...chain-smoking them had already begun building a tolerance. She'd have to find some specialized treatment to reduce her immunity to stims soon. That was going to be a whole other can of worms, and she'd need one hell of a payday to make it happen, too. Baby steps. One problem at a time.

And...her current problem was that her ship didn't have all of Walker's things on it. Gods, what was she even doing with her life? Was this what she'd cut off everyone who'd ever known her to do? She needed to talk to Fable tonight. She'd make a point of it. Just hearing that poor girl's voice would make her feel so much better. Maybe throw in some popcorn and watch a holo with Walker and her stupid dog, too.

"The docking bay is probably under lockdown. Local security is a joke," she repeated, "but this is still going to be a two-man job." Neither of them was a man. Hurr hurr. Raz ran a quick inventory of what she'd managed to stow in her jacket. Stunner, two adhesive grenades, security blades...not nearly as much as she needed to make this work, but improvisation was the most vital skill a field agent developed. "So I need you to do what you do best and be as distracting as possible."

[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]

 

[Walker Twin-Sleeves]

"Distracting, I can do. Rest assured of that, my good woman." Walker declared confidently, running short nails through short blue hair. She nearly stumbled a step, caught herself, bout never once stopped exuding self-confidence and competence. Wearing Razelle's too-small clothes and prisoner stilettos couldn't take that away from her in the slightest.

The local security would be numerous, but terrible. Walker knew this because Walker had hired them to 'protect' the faire. They'd likely be bolstered by ACTUAL law enforcement, but that wasn't a huge concern for her. She'd been making a monkey of badges since age sixteen.

The entire starport hadn't been locked down, but the part with Walker's old, stolen Washburne was. A loose perimeter to dissuade foot traffic, likely a few plainclothes officers, and - Walker suspected - a couple more solid staff waiting by the ship for any potential derring'do. In his experience, they were likely waiting for a specialist to come and crack the ship open for fear of booby traps as they were hoping to trap the wholly fraudulent fugitive who'd ripped them all off. Possibly the woman who'd captured him. A plan began to form.

After giving Razelle the rough locations of importance for everything important on her ship - bug-out bags, dog, money - she paced around the starport alone for a bit looking distressed. Establishing the character was, after all, as important as casing the guards at each checkpoint to find the weakest link. Razelle was instructed (in many words) to lurk behind and 'be amazed'.

Sporting a guard duo of an overweight man and a shorter woman, Walker slapped her cheeks slightly to flush them, rubbed her eyes to make them red, and began to tear within the course of about five seconds. Staggering slightly, she minced out to meet the guards, taking note of their lack of usual symbols of marriage. Perfect.

"Miss." The shorter woman called out sternly as Walker approached. "Area's on lockdown. You have to go back."

"I'm sorry, sorry." Walker mumbled with a tipsy Corellian accent. "I just... Sorry. I'll go." She turned around. Three, two-

"...what's wrong?" The overweight guard asked cautiously. The woman gave him a stern look, to which he shrugged in a helpless manner.

Walker rubbed her bare upper arm and turned around, slouching to disuse her height and look more vulnerable. "My friends, they... They left me behind." She explained timidly, glancing away bitterly as though to add quotation marks around the work 'friends'. "I called for a ride, but it won't be here for an hour, and I don't know anyone here..."

The shorter woman, whom Walker suspected had been a victim of bullying at some point going by her field of work, visibly softened. The overweight guy - whom Walker had counted on as wanting to impress his partner, looked positively brimming with sympathy. Her foot was in the door. Bring it home. "I don't want to get you guys in trouble, but is it okay if I sit with you? There's a lot of strange people around, and I heard that somebody got kidnapped..."

The guards exchanged a look. "Of course." The woman decided at last, guiding Walker over to a bench with a reassuring, compassionate smile. Her generosity of spirit was inspiring, and provided an ample opportunity to steal her keycard and ID. As they sat, Walker spun her a yarn about a college pledge named 'Razi' being abandoned on a strange planet as a cruel prank, hitting the perfect notes to resonate with her captive audience of two. That was more than enough of a hole in the defences for Razelle to slip through, Walker reckoned.

And if it wasn't, Walker could only hope she'd noticed the guard's lifted symbols of power, slipped surreptitiously into a potted plant before she moved the guards attentions in the opposite direction to help her look for the taxi that was supposed to take her home.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

As the two of them approached the docking bay, Raz intentionally broke off, looking around for secondary entrances, security cameras, patrols, undercover badges... She noted at least three disguised security agents and two cameras. Local video was likely protected in the security hut up the hall. She'd need to make sure they weren't looking her way... A stunner normally came with an ion setting - non-lethal, meant for droids - which was something she could work with. As Walker went to work, so did Raz.

Within minutes, the blonde had cannibalized her stun blaster into a very crappy EM scrambler. When Walker got the cops to sit down away from their post, Raz walked in in perfect silence and dropped her now-active scrambler. The cameras all around immediate experienced horrible interference, which on civilian models like the ones present in a suburban spaceport near a county fair meant that they'd be roughly good for sod-all. Comms, too, likely. But considering the cops were busy hearing a story...

Razelle used the few seconds to drop an adhesive grenade on a trigger charge by the front door, then slipped around the outside of the bay towards the loading hatch. It hadn't been opened yet, but she had the keycode. Zero issue. She took the maintenance hatch instead, because a docking bay door would be far too loud. There was a cargo trawler out here...

She'd still need to find a place for the dog, though. After a long moment's consideration, the compact outlaw shook her head to no one in particular and crawled up Walker's old ship's maintenance sphincter.

Inside was, as promised, friggin' broiling. It also smelled absolutely awful. Razelle had a lot to think about as to how she was going to get a dog out of here without getting spotted. The rest of the shopping list was pretty simple. Two bags full of stuff - which she carefully inspected before simply accepting - and enough physical credit chips to incriminate basically anyone. Not a lot of weapons, though. This dunce seemed to believe she could get by on charm alone, and today, at least, had proven that very wrong.

The engine room smelled like old dog and dog-based residue. Raz didn't really notice. The scent of wild things normally put her at ease far more than anything short of the "burning mint" smell of stimsticks. She did, however, smell new and strange. True to form, though, Walker's old bloodhound didn't seem to notice, or care. In fact, Raz had a queen of a time trying to find her at all. "Hey...anybody here?" Hopefully a dog, even an old and cantankerous one, would still respond to a human voice.

[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]

 

[Walker Twin-Sleeves]

A half-hearted 'whuff' of warning was the old bloodhound's only conceit towards securing the ship, before the tired old dog stepped out warily from behind an equally old and tired hyperdrive. It sniffed the air, visibly myopic, and was apparently satisfied enough with Razelle's credentials to dutifully approach her. Perhaps it knew things were amiss. Perhaps it was merely hungry. Either way, it seemed ready to leave - albeit at a slow and ponderous pace.

Walker, meanwhile, had an audience. She'd been moved to the break room, far behind enemy lines. She'd been provided with snacks, a jacket, and lots and lots of rapt attention from the less-motivated or disciplined guards. Merely keeping them busy or building a rapport wasn't enough, though. There were far too many for that to be meaningful. No, she'd made plans with Raz to provide a bigger distraction after twenty minutes, so she would.

Lifting a blaster had been easy. Mando space was saturated with them, after all. She'd gotten a pair of energy packs from an unattended belt, too, before excusing herself to the bathroom to 'freshen up'. Once alone in the less idiot-proof employee bathroom, she turned off the flow of water into the tank of a toilet, stuffed it full of all the paper she could find, and then left the energy clips she'd lifted inside.

Then she set the whole thing on fire with the toilet lid askew, and ran like hell. The ceramic tank acted like a makeshift kiln, heating up as the fire grew. By the time Walker hit the public areas and explained that she'd seen her ride and thankyoueversomuch, a fire alert was going off on that area.

A minute later, as she left the starport, the heated energy packs violently exploded, shooting lasers off in seemingly random directions. The bathroom was flooded with radiation and flames, initiating two different alarms at once - both calling for evacuation.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Inside the old, extremely illegal ship, Raz bent down to meet the old, extremely tired dog. Walker's ancient bloodhound looked like she'd been through more than Walker herself had been through. Probably...ten? Maybe twelve years old? Her fur was getting a bit patchy, and she had some calluses growing on her joints. Not going to be moving fast, this one. With a quiet sigh, after she was thoroughly sniffed and softly rubbed, Raz scratched behind the old pooch's ears and cocked her head to one side. "What am I gonna do with you?" She seemed to have forgotten about the collar. Her neutral expression grew into a very subtle smile as she felt an aged creature feel reassurance at her presence.

Or maybe she was just hungry and thought Raz was going to feed her.

Either way, the blonde stood, and the bloodhound looked out the door. After Razelle started walking out towards the maintenance hatch again, Walker's dog eventually followed. Both of them stood around the opening for several seconds, looking it over, examining it, sizing up how they were going to get four legs and arthritis down there. Their joint meditation was interrupted only by the sound of a cataclysmic "distraction" resounding up the hatch. Immediately the dog gave a quite "auff," and Raz nodded. "Yeah, that's her. We're about to go get her. Follow me down?"

Without wasting any more time, Raz very simply dropped down onto the ground, landing on her feet with a groan-inspiring thunk. The strain on her calves and hips did her no favors. Even so, she recovered quickly, and dropped the duffel bags she'd been told to find. That way, when she turned to offer her open arms to the dog, she'd have-

"Ghhk!" She didn't even notice the fur sailing down towards her until it touched her shoulders. A hundred pounds of old canine flesh-smell bore her to the floor, and the deserter thankfully only landed on a bunch of hard, sharp credit chips. "...Thanks. You're a big help."

"Whuff."

She was losing an argument with a dog. This was not Raz's best day. After a hundred pounds of canine walked off of her, Raz struggled to a kneel, then to her feet, lifting two duffel bags, a backpack, and and a purse. The two of them began their trek to the door, and as soon as Raz passed the still-fuzzy cameras, she broke into a slow jog, looking around in a panic. From her jacket she produced a datapad, tapping it twice to send a quick notification to Walker. Meanwhile... "Razi?! Razi?!"

[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]

 

[Walker Twin-Sleeves]

Walker, standing outside in the crowd and doing a fairly good job of blending in, smirked down at her datapad. Off without a hitch. She'd be glad to see her savings and stuff. And the dog, probably. Lucky guess that the cool, brooding mercenary had a thing for dogs.

When Razelle left the building, Walker minced forward and greeted her like an old friend, with a relieved hug and a squeeze. The dog got a tearful reunion, too, and seemed happy enough to ruin Walker's makeup with a few long and wet licks. If nothing else, they had a genuine rapport - or the dog was in on whatever scam Walker was running.

Walker stood and smoothed her skirt out, then wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm just glad you two are okay. I didn't know WHAT to think when the alarms went off - but everything's fine, now, right?" She asked with a timid smile. "Wanna get dinner? I think the ports are gonna be busy for awhile..."

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Razelle wasn't good with physical shows of affection. At least, nothing as intimate as a hug. Hugs made it really easy to be stabbed, or pickpocketed, or basically a hundred different things she didn't want to happen. She tried to keep up her calm for the show of it all, but the tenseness in her back would have been pretty easy to feel from Walker's proximity. She was extremely glad when it was over, and her relief might have been easy to confuse for concern.

"Absolutely," the assassin-thief-murderess-traitor-deserter replied, visibly relaxing now that Walker had stopped touching her. And also that her "friend" was "safe." The dog was acting along, too. Or, much more likely, she had a sense of loyalty to Walker and considered her one of her pups. A very big one that needed to move out. "Come on, I think there's something edible this way. Calm and quiet, hopefully."

The moment they were far enough away? Raz offloaded one of the bags onto Walker's shoulder. Thoroughly policed of all weapons. And capes. "Haven't touched the money yet. We'll worry about it after we get back into orbit." With the dog. They needed to pick up dog food. Crap. "We should probably hit an outfitter first. I'm not stocked for three."

[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]

 

[Walker Twin-Sleeves]

Walker produced a pack of gum and popped a piece into her mouth as they walked. "A fine plan by any metric." She agreed, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "Especially considering I doubt we'll be able to get off-planet without a large degree of incidental difficulty, given how many of these fine people have decided to quit the faire all together."

Walker grinned and leaned back, peering at Raz over her shoulder. "A crying shame the tickets are non-refundable under any circumstance, isn't it just?" During the course of the evening, Walker seemed to have acclimated well enough to the stilts strapped to her feet to move with much of her usual alacrity, if a great deal more sway. "Little 'ol me knows how to cover her tracks though, always makes a clean escape; present company excluded, of course, and I do mean that to your credit."

The bloodhound made a low sound of complaint, and Walker scritch her behind the ears. "Though we might want to swing by yon frosty clipper to get this old lady settled in." She noted somewhat more gently, lips a thin line of sympathetic concern. "She doesn't like to move around much these days."

Yes. It was Raz who'd had her frozen heart thawed by the dog, and only Raz.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Yon frosty...what?

Razelle had thought herself pretty well-suited to traversing Walker's utterly ridiculous wordplay. The blue-haired charlatan hadn't said anything she couldn't piece through after a bit of thought so far. Unfortunately, that last bit had finally crossed the verge. She gave a confused look, a shrug, raised an eyebrow, and turned off towards where she'd been going last. The other spaceport was several miles away, so they'd need a taxi.

Zero fuss. A few minutes of uneventful ride later, the blonde, her tall, blue companion, and an archaic dog all stumbled out of a public speeder with varying levels of proficiency. Raz pulled out a stimstick and lit up, looking back towards the other two. "We should get her to the ship before we go looking for provisions." She jerked her head in a "come on" motion and led the way back to the Rime.

Frankly, she would have sent Walker off on her own, but the little idiot might try to run. She'd hate to break those heels. They were some of Fable's favorite toys, and buying a new set would just make an unseemly dent in Raz's funds.
[member="Walker Twin-Sleeves"]