Silver Clouds May Pass

[Cim Salro]

Silver Cloud, Maramere​

Lately with the exodus of most of her smuggling group, The Black Bha’lir, Cim spent a lot of time at Point Modie’s most infamous cantina. Aside from just the local scuttlebutt one could get by spending time in the dark dome-shaped building, it was said that the Lok Revenants, pirates who began to infiltrate Maramere in 24 BBY, used to conduct their business in the Cloud. And perhaps still operated in secret here today.

Cim had only herself to blame for the demise of her group and almost her livelihood with it. But this afternoon she would not dwell on it.

In fact, she sat outside at one of the tables, a wide umbrella stretched across it to keep out the bright sun. And for even more protection, the redhead Anazti held a small black parasol, along with matching side sunglasses. Of course the alien would not melt with the heat, but at the same, she did get slightly uncomfortable in oppressive sunlight and humidity.

To get back in the game one needs protection, she mused. She’d been reckless and lazy, relying on her own survival skills, which of course would allow her to flourish, but not in an organization. Not if she wanted to rebuild the Black Bha’lir.

So like a monument she would take each stone and put it into its proper place, until the entire grand display was erected. This first stone was [member="Fenrir Eshen"].

 

[Huxy]

Work was hard to come by these days. Seemed like nobody wanted to have a bodyguard anymore, not even security personnel. All positions were either already taken up or people were just using advanced murder robots to replace an otherwise weak, organic bodyguard. The idea of using droids as security made sense to Fenrir of course, for one they were made out of durasteel or quadanium steel and could easily kill a man with a metal punch to the forehead. Though, all droids did have their shortcomings. Such as EMP's. A droid could be short-circuited and shut down or hacked, while a loyal bodyguard would shrug off an EMP as they were not a robot, well in most cases that is.

Fenrir wasn't sure what he was doing here. He had gone out on a limb to search out work as a security detail or to act as a bodyguard, and he didn't expect to find anything. Especially after the unfortunate death of his last client, something which had no been his fault. Though, guilt still did tug and clench at his soul and mind with the notion that he could have prevented it. But he knew he couldn't have prevented that man's death, nobody survived a two-hundred foot drop from a skyscraper after being pushed by an assassin droid. Even though Fenrir did have a cloud of guilt over his mind and heart over the man's death, he knew their wasn't really anything he could do to stop it. The universe had wanted him dead, fate had deemed it so in the grand scheme of things. And who was he to argue with what the universe decided? Who was he to fight against the immovable and catastrophic force which was Fate, the wind which drove the galaxy onward's to some unbeknownst end.

But he had received a call from someone, a woman named [member="Cim Salro"]. And thus, he answered her call to meet up. Thus, here he was. His body was draped in an outfit composed of black leather clothing, a personal favorite of his. He didn't know why he liked the feeling of leather clothing on his skin, it was just something about the texture and the physical appearance of it that he liked. A handgun was strapped to either of his thighs encase of incident, with a knife slotted against a ballistic weave shoulder strap under his zipped up leather jacket. One could never be too prepared, a lesson he had learned more than once when he was one of the Sunset Pirate's. But that time was now long since past.

He saw her at the table outside, she was the redhead who had some type of black umbrella to shield her from the sunlight. Fenrir didn't know why someone would hide from the sun or it's rays, it was a natural thing of life and nothing to be afraid of. In fact it amused the man that she would have an umbrella-like object here, though he wouldn't judge his possible new client. After all, the two would need to get to know each other to work properly.

With that, the man sat himself down at the table Cim Salro was at, his black sunglasses hiding his striking burnt orange eyes underneath.

 

[Cim Salro]

As she watched the security candidate walk up, a glimmer of hope flashed through her psyche - either that or it was hunger - something she had not felt in awhile. While Kingsley had been a sure shot with a slugthrower, a greasy, mottled vulture was not someone you wanted to put in charge of your physical wellbeing. Finances, leftovers from dinner, maybe… but not a bodyguard.

And the Confederacy did love their droids. Cim had met with [member="Darth Metus"], but they had not quite hammered out an agreement in terms of profit-sharing between the CIS and The Bha’lir. That would come in time. In the immediate short term the raven-haired Anzati needed protection. Enemies and debts loomed as a distraction in the back of her mind, like rectangular shadows on a wall, absent of portraits.

The smuggler wore a short black dress and those detective novel “legs for miles.” She removed the glasses to see Fenrir better, her thin wrist holding the parasol shaking slightly.

“You look sturdy, I’ll give you that. Would you like something to drink? Or another kind of refreshment?”

Cim Salro’s notoritety had been gained by selling spice, though she preferred some of her staff to be clean. Her boudoir assistants, informants and confidants could be as karked up as they liked. But someone she was trusting with her life?

She chewed upon her thumb as she waited for his response.

[member="Fenrir Eshen"]

 

[Huxy]

'Or another kind of refreshment.' I know what you're referring to and I just...no, I need to stop. Fenrir was at a loss of words for a rough estimate fifteen seconds, something which led a brief moment of awkward silence between the client and her hopefully soon to be bodyguard. Tanned fingers reached up to black sunglasses, removing them from the man's weathered face which held a few remnants of duels long since past. The scars were small and blended in now to the man's skin, though the effects of spice addiction were still prevalent on the man's youthful face which held the weathermeant of battle. The visible veins around the neck, dark circles under the eyes...it was all there, though it was most prevalent up close now but it didn't look as severe as it had been or was. Fenrir had been trying to make better on his addiction to spice, and with this woman offering him spice now it seemed...it was something that he found hard to resist.

But he had a job to do, all he had to do was decline.

With visible discomfort at talking about spice, Fenrir responded to the woman. "No, don't worry I'm fine. And I don't need...any of that other stuff. What's with the uh...umbrella? Are you hot or something?"