Often [Anaya]

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Fair be, Red. Fair be. But that's the plan. Get settled, go from there."

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya finished the last of her drink.

"Well, if you need intel or biological weapons, you know how to reach me. I'm also more than happy to remove a few sith heads for you."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge chuckled. "I'll need the first and definitely the third. Protectorate has never used the second; I won't be the first." Cracking his neck, he downed a bit of his tea and shook his head. "I've always come to you for intel though, so that won't be changing."

A tiny datapad on his waist began to buzz, and Sarge sighed, pulling it out and doing the exact thing Cira had done to him so many times.

Immediately get down to business like he wasn't in the middle of a conversation. It took him a second to process what was going on. He shook his head and tucked it away, "Sorry, sorry. Rude of me to work just then. Especially since I'm supposed to be on vacation."

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya's lip twitched as she tried not to laugh at him.

"Vacation, huh?" She looked around the room again, pointedly looking at the datapads, and the weapons that had been meticulously laid out for cleaning. "Wow, you really know how to kick back." she purred, smirking slightly. Finishing her drink, she set the glass on the table.

"Here's a crazy idea. Let's get you out of this little hole, away from your datapads and most of your guns and go out. Eat, drink, find some poor forsaken soul to rip apart." she was almost joking about the last part. Almost. "When was the last time you didn't give a shit?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"I'll eat, and I'll drink... but I'd prefer to keep anything else, ya know, tame. I'm pretty recognizable." It was going to be bad enough for him to be out and about with someone who was likely the infamous Anaya Fen; it would be even worse if they did anything other than talk and have a bite to eat. He gave a heavy sigh and reached up to scratch at his head. "I don't know, Red. A long time ago."

Years, even.

Pretty sure it was years.

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya rolled her eyes. "You're also pretty good at not being seen. I can find a place or two where no one will know you because they spend most of their lives taking spice and living in rooms filled with strobe lighting. Not you're scene i know, but you're not gonna relax while you think you've got eyes on your back. I'll make it easier for you by not being me." As she spoke she reached to the belly bar hidden beneath her clothes, nudging it gently with the force. Her eyes closed for a moment as tingling spread over her skin.

Slowly, her tattoos began to fade, her skin lightened till she was a pale purple. Her eyes opened to reveal dark emerald eyes in place of red. "See, now, you're not walking round with a sith. Just a friend."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

There's a long exhale. "Fine, you've twisted my arm enough." An eyebrow rose at her shift, and then he smirked a bit. "Looks good on ya." He remarks casually, running a palm over the stubble on his jawline for a moment or two. "But to be fair... I'm always going to feel like I've got eyes on me." He wanted to say more, but his heart wasn't much in it. His mind was all over the place and he was still debating the merits of just telling her no and staying home.

But friends were friends.

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya peered down at her hands and shrugged. "Its not bad. Considered taking this up as a permanent appearance once or twice. Easier to hide when no one knows your face. Got me into the ranks of the one sith for a short while, but uhh..." she smiled slightly glancing back at him "you fethed that up for me." She turned and made her way to the front door.

She pointed towards the bedroom. "Shower and change, you smell like solvent."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"So wait, you want me to go out where there's druggies and strobe lights but your concern is I don't smell good because I smell like solvent?" He gave her an incredulous look before looking over to the bedroom and moving to the front door. Poking the woman in the side with a pointed index finger, he hefted his pistol and stuffed it into the back of his pants before opening the door.

"Lead the way, Any." He says cheekily. "Show me your glorious ways."

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

"I don't care what everyone else thinks," she stated, throwing her hands up in mock dismay "I was hoping you'd wash so that I didn't have to put up with the stink." She stuck her tongue out in a childish manner as she poked him before moving through the open door. She tucked her hands into her pockets against the initial chill the night had to offer.

"Would it be incredibly hypocritical of me to say I have to swing by my own club to fix a problem?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"You've smelled worse, I'm sure." He rolled his eyes. "No, no it wouldn't be. So lets go, then. Not like I'm unfamiliar with the place." And then he left, purple alien in tow.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya shot him a wounded look "Never, I always smell wonderful."

A short speeder ride brought them into the heart of Coronet. The boulevard on which Anaya's club sat was bustling with life despite how earl it was in the night. Suited traders form the Stock Excahnge stuck out like sore thumbs amidst the growing crowd of spacers, despite their loosened tie and untucked shirts. They, among some of the other few legitimate people on Coruscant were coming for their end of day drink. Hustlers were splling out of resturaunt and bar fronts, caterwauling and trying to lure people in with fresh deals.

"I always like it here." Anaya mused outloud, weaving through the crowd. "Always something to see. Never a dull day."

Reaching the entrance to the club, a wookiee moved to intercept her. She might have yelled at him, had she not recalled she was not exactly looking herself. "The winds are changing, Tarvok." The walking mountain of fur, made a grunt of surprise and bowed his head in respect before stepping aside. "He's with me." she said, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder at Sarge. She'd need to change the phrase now that Sarge had heard it, couldn't have him coming into her world unwelcomed. No sooner was she in the door, than a kiffar appeared at her elbow, no doubt Tarvok had given the staff a heads up that their boss was in town.

"Parla," she greeted with a smile, "This is Sarge, Sarge, this is Parla."

The HRD offered nothing but a glance in his direction before opening her mouth to speak. "Ma'am, he's in your office."

Anaya rolled her eyes. "We need to work on your greetings. Try saying, 'hello, how are you? nice to meet you.' it works wonders."

"Bring me a bottle of whisky then feth off. Your job is what I make it." Parla left them as she moved across the space dance floor to the stair that would bring them to her office, a windowed room that over looked the entire premises. "When I bought Parla, I hoped she would be more pleasant, but apparently HRD's don't come with a sense of humour." She paused outside the office door and turned to look at him. "You sure you don't mind?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge knew Coronet like the back of his hand, or the scars on his chest. Every dark alley, every scum filled corner. Generally, though, he avoided anything approaching a club. He'd been to Red's place only once before, and for the life of him he couldn't remember why. Or maybe that had been the one on Zeltros. His memory was... iffy, some days. Part of him knew this was going to end poorly.

But part of him couldn't resist.

Still, when they stopped outside her office and she turned to him, he almost said something. But he didn't. He just shook his head. He had to trust she wasn't bringing him into a situation she knew he couldn't help in.

Like torturing someone.

Especially after she said his name aloud.

[member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya wasn't much in the habit of torturing people these days, she had people to do that for her. She did however, enjoy playing games with people. There were, after all, far more effective ways to extract information than with a knife. With his blessing, if you could call it such, Anaya pushed open the door into her office, a hand flicking to the blinds that drew across the window. Once obscured from view, Anaya's skin shifted again, reverting to its original shade. In the center of the room a man stood, his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders set and eyes fixed on the far wall.

Anaya said nothing to him, she simply gestured to a chair for sarge to sit in and then stood directly in front of the man and began examining her nails. She let the silence stretch, watching the man's military stance tremble slightly as his gaze flicked between herself and Sarge. She could feel his confidence failing and his fear beginning to rise.

"Corporal," she began softly. "How is your daughter fairing? My latest reports tell me you've just secured her position in a private school, apparently, she's not settling in well. Fighting a lot with her classmates. Boarding school isn't it? Matrons say she cries herself to sleep at night. Misses her mother."

"This isn't necessary." His voice held only a slight tremor, but his eyes told Anaya all she needed to know. Fear was a powerful tool.

"Isn't it?"

Silence was her only response, disturbed only by Parla entering the room and setting a bottle of whisky and two glasses on the table next to Sarge. "You failed me."

"No."

"I gave you a simple job. To inform me of any changes in prisoner three six seven. A criminal in a coma, did you know why he is in a coma? Because I put him there. What do you think qualifies as a change? Him waking up? Yes, definatley-"

"I wasn't-"

"How about the fact that he's been moved?"

"My lady please, I wasn't on shift, I was moving Helena to the school, when I came back he was gone."

"And what information can you provide me with on his whereabouts or condition?"

"Such details are above my paygrade. Classified. You understand what that means?"

Anaya smiled. "Yes. It means you are no longer of use to me." She turned away, eyes catching Parla's who withdrew a sidearm and leveled it at the guards head.

"Wait! I...I can...I can talk to some people. Call in some favours and find out where he is for you." Anaya dropped into the chair next to Sarge.

"That would expose you, and mean you wind up in prison. What happens when they torture you for information about who you're working for?"

"I won't tell them anything, I swear. Please, I'm begging you don't orphan my daughter."

Anaya laughed "Oh please, if anything she will be better off without you. All the same, you have forty eight hours. Go."

For a moment he hesitated, then realising he was dismissed, he fled. "He will run." Parla piped up stowing the gun once more.

"See to it that he doesn't do anything quite so foolish." Anaya poured her and Sarge a drink.

"And if he does?"

"Kill him and finish the job yourself." She handed Sarge the glass as Parla left them, swirling her own in her hand. "I need a new hobby, this one is becoming boring. All the good criminals have been recruited by the One Sith."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge took one look at the situation and felt a whole lot of NOPE. He'd gotten through life by being an unassuming man; a face in the crowd that didn't really stand out in memory. And he really, truly, needed that to be the case right now. So the man retreated into the nearest shadows he could. Despite the fact they were too small to hold a man of his size, he somehow made it work to his advantage.

A tip of his head, and his black eyes were now the trick of the light.

Hand raising, he waved off the drink.

"So why did you bring me here, exactly." He says, as unamused as ever. Part of him wanted to chastise her for being so stupid, but he didn't. She probably had a reason, and really... it wasn't worth it.

[member="Anaya Fen"]