Oh... this was yours?

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Don't worry about it.", he says absently, almost as though he were uttering his catchphrase. Actually, it was. He was fiercely private and that answer was stock for any manner of questions; even innocuous ones. "Besides. I don't really have friends."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"I only ask because there's a very good chance you're talking to one of my thirty-eight semi-incapacitated researchers, and I'd rather like to know if that's the case."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

He snorts. "Why would I be talking to them? They're uncon- no wait, one or two are probably awake with migraines." He pantomimes doing a ridiculous amount of counting with his fingers before nodding. "Yeah, I'd say three, tops, are awake. And I ain't talkin' to none of 'em."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Then I suppose that limits the possibilities to a small handful of improbable options. Schizophrenia, artificial intelligence, that sort of thing. Irrelevant now, I suppose.

"How are your data manipulations going? I have places to go, beaches to crash, Mandalores to seduce, that sort of thing."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Why are you not seducing the dude in the skull painted armor, I mean c'mon now. Clearly I'm a great catch." Definitely sarcasm. There's a faint pause. "One minute. It was a lot of data, and apparently one of the researches had holorecordings of all the ladies restrooms."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Ashin touched the circuitry at her collar. "Note to self. Thirty-seven survivors."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

That elicited an amused snort. The man stood, "Can I go now, Ashin?"

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Ashin bit her lip pensively, and perhaps more than pensively. "Show me your hand."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

There's a pause, likely one for him to consider exactly what she was driving for. Finally, slowly, he showed her the palm of his gauntlet.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Your hand."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Remember what I said earlier? About being clear? Yeah 'showing you my hand' is exactly what I'm doing." Laughing to himself and shaking his head, he undoes a gauntlet at the wrist and tugs it off to reveal slightly pale skin, a thickly calloused palm and the beginnings of scar tissue creeping in from his arm.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Don't flip a table."

The biting of her lip had been intentional. She spat blood in a spray; whether any of it touched his skin would be up to him.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"MOTHERF-", almost immediately his hand shot back. He'd seen Aliens. He knew what was coming. Still, reflexes or not, spittle is unpredictable. A drop or two caught his hand - which he promptly smeared onto his armor.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The stain would remain. A Nightsister Blood Trail had that effect.

"Nothing harmful," she said, sucking the excess blood off her lip. "It's an obscure thing - it'll allow me to find you if I need you."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"You're really hipster right now. Why the hell would you want to find me, damnit?" He sounded like he didn't enjoy people looking for him. Hard to imagine why that could be.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Because then I could say I found you before it was cool. A man like you is going places. It's not something I'll abuse, naturally - I want to limit the amount of time you're mad at me for this."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"I will literally kriff you.", he all but snarls. Despite the phrase generally bringing to mind images of lovers in each others arms... he still managed to make it sound spiteful.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"I have no doubt of that. You may get over it. I rather hope you do."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"You have destroyed the privacy of one of the most private individuals in the galaxy. I hate you so much right now. Why in the world would I ever want to get over this."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Get over yourself, you utter drama queen. I have better things to do than track you. It's not like I can sense your whereabouts at all times. If I need you, I'll come find you. All there is to it."

She shrugged. "But because I value my privacy too..."

She rattled off a comm number.