Private Engine Coolant and a Show

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

GUN IN MY HAND​

"Git gone!"

A wrench escorted the yowling Tooka out of the hangar.

Del planted a boot with vehemence against the freighter in frustration. It has been giving her headaches for weeks. The Corellian ship had been her pet project for a while now with a bunch of modifications she had been installing. But the power flux stabilizer kept screwing around and she, in her impatient manner, was not far from torching the damn thing.

It was a Saturday afternoon and Dagger Flight had some down time for a change. But of course Del was incapable of just sitting still and binging HoloFlix series the entire leave period. Instead, she tortured herself by working on the piece of chit Corellian rust bucket.

Del pulled her fingers through her hair while straightening her back. She needed a drink at this rate. But of course the Imperial Navy didn't have bar fridges in their hangars and unfortunately the freighter was too big to fit into her personal workshop where she actually had the luxury of a fridge. Go figure that an underpayed pilot from the slums is more advanced than the Imperial cream.
"Screw it. Drink it is." she grumbled, unzipping the coveralls that had been protecting her clothes from the Attack of the Grease and chucking them back into the freighter.

 

[Kovacs]

​

There's cool and then there's Jon Kovacs cool. Pink tee, white linen suit, and leather shoes—not cream, not ivory, or off-white, but a stark solid white. Large sunglasses clipped on the tee and a straw through which he slurped on the ice caf in his hand. Staring at the Corellian freighter Del diligently worked on, two questions ran in his head; one -when was the Imp gonna requisition it for an undercover smuggling run, gunrunning to pro-Imperial groups in the Core wasn't yesterday's news; two - when's she gonna call it quits and run for bourbon.

Jon takes a casual glance at his watch, "Any second now..." clank! the wrench goes flying and Del appears on the scene all worked up, stripping the stained of a day's labor grease.

"Go on." he grins like an idiot, then shakes his head, "You know leave means leaving these heaps of junk for a while, right?"

Delilah Jones ​

 

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

"Go on." he grins like an idiot, then shakes his head, "You know leave means leaving these heaps of junk for a while, right?"

Del's head snapped around before a scowl crossed her face when she saw who it was.
"Someone needs to fix this thing. When else am I going to do it, smartass?" A hand came to rest on her hip momentarily as she looked him up and down. "You look like you crawled out of a candy store. Pink? Really, Kovacs?" she quipped.

Damn show off. His pristine clothing stood in stark contrast to her own off-white tank and khaki shorts. But she assured herself that that white suit of his wouldn't stay white for long while meandering through the city and getting on people's nerves.

She narrowed her eyes at her Flight Lead.
"Did you come here to just press my buttons or are you here to serve a bigger purpose?" she asked him before bending down to retie a shoelace. "Is that kiddies drink all you got or are you planning on upgrading?" she continued from the ground.

The guy couldn't hold liquor to save his life, but it sure was fun pushing him to his limits on a good day. And after the frustrations she kept experiencing with the damn freighter, it would most certainly be a good drinking day.

Provided he didn't duck under the table again.

 

[Kovacs]

​

"What??" he protests, spreading his arms wide and looking down on his peak style, "I'm just singin' the smuggler's blues, darlin'" that last gunrunning op to a pro-Imperial group in the core had gone haywire but Jon made it out alive. Luck had to do with the way you dress, right?

"Did you come here to just press my buttons or are you here to serve a bigger purpose?" she asked him before bending down to retie a shoelace. "Is that kiddies drink all you got or are you planning on upgrading?" she continued from the ground.

"Hey, this is an upgrade - virgin margaritas' all the booze I was allowed to in the Institute. Can't be the three times best QB of the league if my blood's runnin' on a couple of permils." the hotshot pilot shrugs, "Speakin of virg-- booze-- there's a place downtown that's stocked up on Core drinks. It's probably got a night left before ISB shuts it down." the Iron Will Decree had forbidden non-essential trading with the Core opening up big cash opportunities for daring smugglers.

"I know you're a gritty Bastion gal with taste buds reserved solely for coolants but for once let a man buy you something more... exquisite, yeah?"

"Just put on a dress this time, will ya?" he's really, really tired of the watering holes Del and the rest of the flight's enjoyed so much. Places you could go with a coverall and you'd still be the sharpest dressed guy in town.

Delilah Jones ​

 

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

Del rolled her eyes.

The typical gravball Jock. He so loved to strut around with his "three times best QB of the league" quips. Fat lot of good it did him, though. It's not like you could dummy and sidestep quite as efficiently in a bird. And the QB achievement didn't keep Vane from getting shot down either.

She hated gravball.

"Speakin of virg-- booze-- there's a place downtown that's stocked up on Core drinks. It's probably got a night left before ISB shuts it down."

Del shook her head.
"It's really a shame that businesses get shut down like that. Now we get double and even tripple charged for that kind of stuff. Even my couplings are double priced now. Local sucks with ship components." Yeah, she was miffed about the whole Decree. Big Guy Fel really did a number on the little guy.

Jon had been throwing more quips at her.

She snorted.
"You better have enough money then. It's been a day that only the comfort of alcohol can fix, Mister Pinkie-In-The-Air, so this joint better be worth it." she said. She wasn't exactly used to the higher way of life yet where clean Tihaar wasn't the drink of the day.

"Just put on a dress this time, will ya?"

Del looked down at her clothes for a second before narrowing her eyes at Jon.
"You're lucky that wrench went after the cat, Hotshot. Otherwise your dodge left wouldn't have saved your jawline this time." she grumbled. Did she even have a damn dress? It's not like there were a whole lot of galas or cocktail parties that being hosted. They were too busy waging war.

She sighed before complying.

She felt oddly exposed in the summer number. Not a lot of place you could strap a blaster, after all. Yes, it was uncomfortable and no, you couldn't be too prepared. It was Ravelin, after all, not chicken chit Theed. The assassination of Tavlar in the heart of the Empire had proven that.

She glared at the unimpressive, almost boarded-up building in front of them.
"You made me dress up for this duracrete ruin? Really, Kovacs?" she asked him. With him, anything was possible, but that was beside the point. It wasn't exactly the rich district they were in. You never knew what kind of undesirables hung around in the slightly lower districts.

Thank goodness she decided not to wear heels.

 

[Kovacs]

​

When she materialized sometime later, all cleaned up and with a dress, Jon's sunglasses slid down his nose.

Blink once.

Blink twice.

Damn.

There was no dodging left here.

"DRESSED UP?!?-- Blondie, you're anythin' but--" she was as summer as summer gets and he'd go on about it had she not given him the stare, to which he cleared his throat and sheepishly added, "--uh, nice dress..." then cleared his throat, louder this time, and quickly moved on, "It's a speakeasy bar, Del." he lead the way, turning into the alley adjacent to the condemned building. "You wouldn't last an hour with smuggled goods at a place plastered with neon signs on Trachta Avenue."

It's three dozen meters and a few turns before they pick up the first musical notes lingering in the air and growing gradually with each step they took towards the bar. Two large torches indicated the open entrance, a single man on security let them in after a nonchalant check of their IDs. Place's is outdoors, was probably something like the backyard of the condemned building, shut off from each side by other abandoned or near abandoned buildings. It'd usually smell like mold if it wasn't for the dozens of different smoking substances.

It's supposed to be classy, you know kinda the place where privileged uppity kids go to act special but lately, there's been an uptick of sleazoids runnin' around the area. From Street corner dealers with a little bit more cash and a stolen suit and some bigger crime fishes who liked being surrounded by uptown, female PR professionals to their all-nighter clientele from the better part of Ravelin to the few thieving goons having drinks after a fencer's cut came in.

You could say you've got a sample of almost every social substratum of Bastion down here. Fancy looking but with some rotten pieces inside. Gotta be worth a dress, right?

"Fine, I won't make you lounge on one of those cushions. Bar duty it is."

"Get us something from the, uh,... limited edition, pal." he tells the bartender, who simply arches an eyebrow, "The Core booze?"

"You-- are you-- you literally just say that out in the open, huh?"

Bartender shrugs casually, "Paid the local ISB bozo up until next month, my man."

"...sheesh... what the hell happened to the Imperial Dream?"

A scoff, "You're lookin' at it, buddy."

Delilah Jones ​

 

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

It's a speakeasy bar, Del." he lead the way, turning into the alley adjacent to the condemned building. "You wouldn't last an hour with smuggled goods at a place plastered with neon signs on Trachta Avenue."

She felt stupid. Of course it was supposed to be a front. Duh, Del, you blonde fool. With an embarrassed flush creeping on her cheeks as she bit her lip, she followed Jon with merely a sigh.

The different flavours of smoke hit her like a sledgehammer. She and smoke did not gel - at all. One would think spending a lifetime around ships would cancel it out, but no. In that department, she was a lightweight. Blinking a few times to try and get rid of the sudden lightheadedness, she then glanced around.

It was an odd mixture of class and typical underground vibes. Mostly class, but that undertone was there. But for the most part, the music was good at least. She did enjoy her Blues on a good day.

Another scowl spread on her face at his quip about the cushions as they walked past a bunch. Eeuw.
"Good call, 'cause you are tapdancing on the undertaker's porch, Kovacs." she snipped back as they headed over to the bar where the barman looked like there was something stink on his upper lip.
Del was just about to slide onto a barstool when she burst out laughing as Jon planked his name trying to order drinks.
"I swear you were born under a rock, Jon." she said, the smile 2 parsecs long.

As the Gravball champ chitchatted with the 'tender, Del glanced around again. Most people were just living the good life, but there were those one's or two's that just felt wrong. One, in particular, seemed way too alert while lounging a little ways from the bar, surrounded by girls and whatnot. The sleemo reminded her far too much of the eels that used to get shop owners beat up if their payments were just a day late.

Del casually turned her attention back to Jon while resting her chin on her hand while resting on the bar. Where the hell was that ISB guy when you need him? The sleemo was probably nothing to worry about, but that same gutfeeling she had on Krownest, had her on the slight alert. But for now, casual was the way to go.
"Now, Kovacs, seeing as you dragged my ass away from that hangar, you can be on wrench duty tomorrow to get that rust bucket finished." she said, dragging her drink closer as Mr Imperial Dream set them down in front of the two pilots.

 

[Kovacs]

​

"I was actually born on the Wheel... which, frankly, I don't know if it's a good thing or not." he stirs the straw before tilting to lean on his side, facing Del. Whatever she was staring it, the black-haired pilot completely missed it. Hard to, uh, focus with that dress next to him.

"C'mon, Jones, y'know you don't want me anywhere near that junk. Remember last time?" he pulls a cigarette out of nowhere and lights it up. A bad, occasional habit Jon's picked up from these undercover smuggling ops. It's always when there's a drink accompanying him, he has to light one up. At least, it's not as bad as his dad's. "Exactly."

"Surprised you didn't know the place, ain't you a Ravelin gal?" Jon clinks her glass and takes a sip, face contorting into lines indicating his distaste for alcohol.

Delilah Jones ​

 

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

C'mon, Jones, y'know you don't want me anywhere near that junk. Remember last time?"

More smoke.

Why did he have to light up one as well? Just because she frequented quite a few watering holes, didn't mean she and smoke were good friends. At all. It took her a second or two to register what he was saying. But when she did, a cringe spread on her face, the crime lord forgotten for the moment with her trip down memory lane with that little line from Jon.
"Yeah, maybe that isn't such a good idea." she said with a laugh. He really was mechanically impaired, to both her entertainment and frustration.

"Honestly, Jon, it's hard to think you are the pilot that you are without having a clue what has to go where on a bird without blowing it up in the process." she continued, shaking her head lightheartedly. "One of these days, Kovacs, w'ere gonna have to fix that. Or at least just get you to a point where you didn't blow chit up instead of fixing them. Even 'I don't like grease on my rich boy hands' Demici's got you on a one up with that, and that is a right crying shame." she smirked as she stirred her cocktail. Yeah, she liked stirring that little pot. It wasn't exactly a state secret that the two boys had some kind of unspoken competition going on.

Two pretty boys on the same flight was enough reason to get out the popcorn.

"Surprised you didn't know the place, ain't you a Ravelin gal?"

She clanked her glass with his and just had to give a triumphant smile as he pulled a face.
"Lightweight." she said before taking a sip of her own and then returned to stirring the diluted alcohol. "And I uh.......don't pub crawl in the higher districts. Too airy-fairy most of the time. But this ain't bad." she added, but after a few seconds, glared at him good naturedly. "If you tell a soul that I said that, then you are on grease scrubbing duty. That freighter has a leakage problem." she said shrewdly, pointing her cocktail stirrer at him for a second before planting it back in the tumbler.

She took the umbrella from her drink and played with it as her elbows rested on the bar.
"Now seeing as you are a Wheeler and not a local trapper, how'd you come across this place? Hotshot like yourself is probably used to better?" she asked glancing at him and his goofy face. For all his high flying, flirting and bad drinking ability, he was still a bit of a conundrum.

Not that she'd ever been one to talk about her own origins out of the blue.

 

[Kovacs]

​

There's a murmur somewhere in between his sips when she mentions the new guy on Bravo. Being behind that douche on anything is a concept that doesn't sit well with the pilot. It's a shame but mechanics never were really his forte, one look at his grades at the Institute and you'd know he's only graduated thanks to the practical courses. When it came to fixing, his expertise was limited to drinks.

"Your secret's safe with me, sweetheart." he grins after another puff of the cancer stick. Ain't no way there's a woman in this galaxy that doesn't dig fancy stuff, it's what his dad's told him. Del might skew that line, maybe way more than Jon's ever seen someone do, but she was no way regretting puttin' on a dress and sipping on colorful drinks without having to worry about her soles sticking on the floor of the bar.

"Better? When the credit allows it, yeah." he wasn't much of a saver, let's be real here, "Guy at the coffee shop told me about it." it was a girl and she took a rain check for the night so Jon went to drag Del outta her hellhole of gyros, wires, and wrenches instead. Fate, gotta be, right?

"...besides it's not the joint but the company that matters, ain't that right, blondie?" he licks his lips, taking another sip and pulling another face.

Delilah Jones ​

 

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

Del's body shook with silent laughter at his disgruntled mumblings about Dagger-7.

Egos were fickle things.
"Cheer up, Kovacs. At least you are better at saving a gal's tail than the Ivy League." she said, a parsec long smile on her face turning a bit more sincere. The Nirauan deployment hadn't exactly been a walk in the park. If Kovacs hadn't thrown formation to the wind and swooped in, she would have ended up like Vane despite her best efforts.

The cocktail was nice, but hot damn, was it diluted with fluff. It took her last self control not to yell at the 'tender to not skimp on the spirits so much. But nooo, she had to be all ladylike. Meanwhile Jon was making faces at his own drink because lightweight. Hard to think he was in the navy.

Clearly the song didn't apply to him in particular.

"...besides it's not the joint but the company that matters, ain't that right, blondie?"

Slowly, Del turned her head to narrow her eyes at him.
"Funny that you think of yourself as company, Jawline." she said shrewdly before returning to stirring the 'tail. She had to hand it to the wannabe Casanova - he never stopped trying. "You're all right, Kovacs. Warts and all." she teased good naturedly before taking another sip of her drink. His high-roller demeanour had its charms. But it also made poking fun at it, so much more entertaining.

The whole fickle ego thing.

She lifted the tumbler and held in front of her face, swirling the fruity pink substance around while watching it.
"Aside from getting on people's nerves and not doing mechanic work, what do you do to keep yourself entertained? Or is being annoying pretty much it for your one brain cell?" she asked, yet the slight curl in the corner of her mouth softened the jabs somewhat. She gave him all his grief, but he wasn't a bad egg.

Not that that would stop her from putting another dent in his bird.

 

[Kovacs]

​

He scoffed, "Yeah... I'll take that compliment." surely this was her professing her uncurable liking of his charm. Taking another sip before calling it quits for the next ten minutes because feth that chit burned his throat. No dodging left that either.

"Hmm, what do I do besides being extremely pleasant company?" Jon corrected her, tapping lightly a finger on his chin, "..hmm... well let's see - watching gravball, gym, 'perfectly legal' swoop racing occassionally - don't tell ISB that - and--" he leans a little closer, "-- saving your ass daily. Last one takes up most of my time." he flashes a chiteating grin her way.

"Can't complain."

Delilah Jones ​

 

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

Of course - gravball.

She never could understand where the allure was in passing a ball back and forth while getting the seven shits tackled out of you. No wonder all the Jocks have only 2 brain cells - one to breathe and one to get on a girl's nerves with.

But swoop racing - now there's a sport.

She had just turned her head and opened her mouth to comment on it, when she shut again in half a pout as he went ahead and put his foot in it again.
"You better not complain or this ass gets transferred, leaving you alone with the Snob and nothing to look at to make it more bearable." she said, a smile pulling at her mouth. "And if that grin didn't make you look like such a goof, I would have had you eat it." she added shrewdly, looking half down at him before she tapped him on the nose with the umbrella.

There was never a dull moment with him. Never specifying if it's a good or bad moment, but at least it was never dull. Not that she ever made his life easy. Where was the fun in that?
"Now, Mr Legal Swoop Racer, when and where is next meet? I challenge your angular jawline to a race. Winner pays for dinner after." she smirked at him. Whatever floated his boat for after - she just wanted to race. The bug had bit her once and since then, she'd been hard pressed to get a proper meet.

It sucked if you had to be an adult half the time in order to pay rent.

 

[Kovacs]

​

Being left without that ass and with only the Snob was a threat he genuinely dreaded in his lightly inebriated state. Jon wasn't sure if he'd take it worse sober, that was a question for another time. A simple, teasing tap of her umbrella on his nose made him faintly belch - as diluted with soda as this cocktail was, he sure had a sharp sense of smell when it came to alcohol. Look, nobody's perfect even if they've got a perfect jawline.

"Now, Mr Legal Swoop Racer, when and where is next meet? I challenge your angular jawline to a race. Winner pays for dinner after."

He blinked, then shook his head to make sure he was hearing right, "Wait, you're into swoop racing?" a chiteating smirk followed, "I knew you were into this--" he drew a square over his jaw, "--but not into swoops... you're on, darlin'. Friendly tip though? You can start looking for a place to book then-- that's not a watering hole."

Delilah Jones ​

 

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

HOW?

How did he manage to make this about his jawline? Yes, it was a monument, but that was beside the point. Half a laugh, half a sigh escaped through her nose as she shook her head in exasperation.
"Yes, I like swoops." she said. And then a sinister smirk spread on her face. "And you bet your swooping ass I'll pick a place." she said. She liked her competition, but damn, it would be fun to pick the most expensive place in the Galaxy just to see his face when he was sober.

No, she wouldn't really be that horrible. But a girl could dream, at least.

Del downed the rest of her cocktail before looking back at Jon.
"All right, Kovacs. You sure you're sober enough to even get us to the meet, nevermind get on a bike?" she laughed at him. Her own head was feeling fuzzy from the amount of smoke around them. Fresh air would be good.

A stronger drink would have been nice though. But she doubted there was something like that in this establishment, seeing as Jon didn't like the harder watering holes that she was used to.

How people survived with lollipop drinks or iced caf only was above her.

 

[Kovacs]

​

Jon's not the guy to back down ever. Del knows that perfectly well; especially when you throw a dinner with a pretty girl in the mix... and a drop of alcohol. What was lollipop drinks to Del was pure ethanol to the black-haired pilot, so with a long and dirty smirk he set his cocktail to the side and took her by the hand to leave. There's a guy - Porro - on Ravelin he knew, could set 'em up with two swoops for the night. Easy does it.

---

---

"'ight, don't shove it in my face, will ya?" he murmured as he brushed a hand across his locks of hair matted with sweat and slid down from the swoop's seat. "...was just a tenth of a sec difference, sweetheart." he pulled out a band of creds from the inside of his blazer and pushed it down Porro's jacket's pocket. The man gave both a half-toothed grin, slave circuited one swoop to the other and left them in the dust. Ravelin streets, middle of nowhere.

"Fine, I'll admit it - you're a helluva pilot, Lieutenant." Jon pulled a lopsided grin, then pulled another cig to light up. "You've got all the permissions to run your CO's pockets dry on steak and wine... or a friggin' watering hole servin' tibanna for drinks, knowing you." credit card's due but he'll be damned if he wasn't going to keep his side of the bet.

Delilah Jones ​

 

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

Ok, she wasn't expecting that.

One moment they were still chilling at the bar, and the next she was being dragged out of the establishment by the hand.
"Gosh, Jon, if I knew it'll get you this excited, I wouldn't have said something." she laughed as they went. At least it was fresh air, which helped against the wooziness.

But damn. He was like a kid in a candy store.

"'ight, don't shove it in my face, will ya?" he murmured as he brushed a hand across his locks of hair matted with sweat and slid down from the swoop's seat. "...was just a tenth of a sec difference, sweetheart."

Del chuckled as she sat side-saddle on her swoop, watching him.
"Am I hearing someone being a sore loser?" she asked teasingly, finally hopping off the swoop gracefully. It had been close, though. She almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

"Fine, I'll admit it - you're a helluva pilot, Lieutenant."

She gave a triumphant smirk. "I should hope so. Someone needs to make up for your bad flyng." she quipped as she watched Porro disappear around the bend.

"You've got all the permissions to run your CO's pockets dry on steak and wine... or a friggin' watering hole servin' tibanna for drinks, knowing you."

Del looked back at him with a raised brow. "I ain't a complete hoodlum, Kovacs. You don't have to worry about tibanna gas. But uh.....you sure you want to go into civilised society looking like that?" she asked him with a smirk, looking him and his matted hair up and down in a faux aloof way.

It was still above her how that blazer was still white after the race.

 

[Kovacs]

​

"I should hope so. Someone needs to make up for your bad flyng." she quipped as she watched Porro disappear around the bend.

He rolled his eyes, pouting, at her quip. They could back and forth all night on this, that was for sure.

Del looked back at him with a raised brow. "I ain't a complete hoodlum, Kovacs. You don't have to worry about tibanna gas. But uh.....you sure you want to go into civilised society looking like that?" she asked him with a smirk, looking him and his matted hair up and down in a faux aloof way.

"A bet's a bet, Jones." he tucked his hands into his pocket, the cigarette's smoke lingering from the stick in his mouth, "But I don't even fethin' know where we are. Looks like one of those seedy sides of town. Was a corner diner a few blocks back that way." he jerked his head the way from where they'd come with the swoops, then slowly turned his eyes back at her, another one of those dirty cheap smirks framed on his face, "...unless, y'know, you don't wanna be seen with a guy in an off-white blazer and you live nearby..."

Delilah Jones ​

 

[Delilah Jones]

TAG: Jon Kovacs

Del glared at him.

"Watch it, Kovacs." He had balls, she had to give him that. "A drink in a nice place and a swoop race ain't getting you into my home just yet. Especially not if you throwing shade on my 'hood." she added, a slight smile curling the corner of her mouth.

As she started walking in the direction of the diner, she playfully messed up his hair as she passed him.
"Come on, I'm hungry. Hell, I'll even drink plain milk so you can stop distorting that face of yours. It's a shame when that happens." she said with a chuckle as she turned around to face him while walking backwards. "Unless you're really that grossed out about the area. In that case, boo-boo, you best start walking back to the barracks." she said. "Alone."

Yeah, the area wasn't exactly the Ritz, but it was most definitely a step up from where she originally came from. If he was pulling up his nose for this, she wondered what he'd say of the more west sides. Yeah, she was feeling kind of self conscious for the first time in a long time, even though she hid it behind her usual jabs at him.

Damn, was she really going that soft?

The evening air was cooling down quite rapidly with the setting of the sun. She wanted to kick herself for not grabbing a jacket earlier, but oh well. Goosebumps lightly dotted her bare arms as they came to a halt in front of the diner....

....that was boarded up upon closer inspection.

A frustrated groan sounded in the back of Del's throat.
"Great." she said before glancing sideways at Jon. "Right, hope you're fine with me jacking a starter on a speeder?" she said before starting to walk toward a parked speeder a few meters back in the direction from whence they came.

 

[Kovacs]

​

"...sheesh, no hospitality these days..." he murmured jokingly underneath his breath before they headed off towards the diner Jon had seen earlier.

"Come on, I'm hungry. Hell, I'll even drink plain milk so you can stop distorting that face of yours. It's a shame when that happens." she said with a chuckle as she turned around to face him while walking backwards. "Unless you're really that grossed out about the area. In that case, boo-boo, you best start walking back to the barracks." she said. "Alone."

Del found it too easy to relax on these streets... and he was the one slightly inebriated. What a woman. Half the lamps were either busted or about to go. If the bartender was an indicator of the state of the Imperial Dream, this was just rubbing salt in the wound. "Don't worry 'bout it, Jones, I love your company enough to stick around." he flicked the near-finished cig off into a nearby trash bin.

They were by the diner - the ex-diner - when Jon noticed the faint shivers running down her arms. Yeah, that hardly a winter dress. Very, very far from it.

"Great." she said before glancing sideways at Jon. "Right, hope you're fine with me jacking a starter on a speeder?" she said before starting to walk toward a parked speeder a few meters back in the direction from whence they came.

"Here." he didn't ask - just took off the blazer and placed it over her shoulders, "' 'least don't freeze boostin' the damn car, sweetheart." servicemen jackin' a car in the capital itself... yikes. Read like a great news headline, right? They weren't really doing the Imperial Dream any favors, huh? But when were they?

Least he could do was sit on the passenger's seat when Del got the engine running. Don't drink and drive - written in COMPNOR BOLD on a holoposter next to the parking lot.
Delilah Jones ​