Private Some Nights

[Drifter]

[ Okay, let me be a little bit more focused. How confidant are you regarding having to try and slice through a variety of potential types of security doors? ] The Squib could take the galaxy's trash and make it a treasure. The variety of possibilities of different types of consoles, data spikes, and age of the compound's security and taking the time to deal with them would take precious seconds to hack into.

[ Expect technology that we haven't seen since the four-hundred-year-old darkness. A medley of former Alliance, First Order, Confederacy, Sith, refurbished Trade Union, or Omega Pyre technology. ] he told her, doing a bit of a stop and go throughout the cargo hold among a few stacks of cargo cracks.

[ Where the hell is it? ] he mused aloud to himself, trying to remember where he packed the fireworks away. [ Alex, where we store the Life Day decorations? ]

Yup. A freebie. He celebrated Life Day. He had several hats and ugly sweaters to show for it.

As for the question regarding his saber skills.... Good thing Rhea couldn't see his scoundrel grin. [ Oh, even with just one arm, I can handle my saber just fine. ] almost mirroring her words to his earlier query.

Bait. So much more bait.

 

[Rhea]

It took her a moment, but the double take came, the once guarded woman eyeing him as if she didn't know what to make of him.

"...Yeah all this solo travel requires some sharp skill," she leveled back, deadpan as she gave no hint to what side of the coin she had chosen-- bait, or dismissal.

Her thoughts flickered to her bag, a belated rush of heat hitting her cheeks. She cleared her throat, shoving aside the realization that he could very easily look in it and. Well.

"I am perfectly adequate at all types of hardware--" THE WORDPLAY "Old and new. Like I said, it's pretty intuitive once you get started-- Are you going to string up lights on them?" She interrupted, circling back to the lifeday reveal.

"When I said we need a distraction I was thinking more than a disco ball."

 

[Drifter]

[ Oh ye of little faith, ] Drifter chortled, turning right before stepping towards a stack of cargo crates. One was a bit more scuffed and when the man set eyes upon it, gave a little [ Ah -hah! Knew it was here! ]

Without further ado, that helm went panning over to Rhea. [ Alright, Miss-good-at-handling-hardware. ] A jerk of his chin indicated towards the crate on top, where, in what seemed to be childish, block, faded black in, was marked ( Li7e D4Y Stuff).

[ Help me get this one off.] snicker snicker. Oh, he caught that flush over her face. So not so oblivious after all. [ Old and new eh? My, my, so well experienced for one so young. Didn't know I was in the presence of such a master of handling all varieties of hardware. ]

 

[Rhea]

The insinuation reached her after another pause, the woman stalling out for a moment... before breaking into an cringy laugh. It was just so ridiculous, she had to cup her face into her hand and rub away her the laughter-- and embarrassment.

"You never stop, do you?" Still, she couldn't help the tug of her lips, a fact she hid behind her hair as she pulled the box down for him. "Oof," came the complaint, her muscles flexing as she waddled it back a few steps and placed it down. Of course, there was one obvious question she had yet to ask, her attention flickering to the void where his arm was. Curiously, she did not let the phrase come to life. Instead she twirled a knife out from the depths of her pants and stuck it in the crate. In a few adept yanks, she had it open.

Sans question.

"Oh," came the shocked comment, catching sight of the content within.

Oh yes. That'd work.

 

[Drifter]

That little boy grin would practically drip through the voice modulator, [ Eventually, maybe... ] A pause, then a sardonic shake of his head. [ Nah. You walked in on that one, Pittin. ] he told her.

Once she had popped his crate, it was with no uncertain smugness that the scoundrel rested his hip against the lid, practically preening. What was in the case you ask? Well, only about fifty kilos of the best Life Day fireworks you could get within the Kashyyyk system. We are talking sparklers, aerial, barrages, bottle rockets, chrysanthemums, crossette, stars, comets, peonies... A multitude of assortment of fireworks that would be enough to light up the sky on the annual Wookiee holiday.

[ I know right? These beauties were made to fly past the wroshyr tree canopy. ] he was practically humming with gleeful energy as if the mere thought of finally being able to make use of the fireworks was payment enough for the sass and trouble Rhea had given him.

With a pat of his singular hand at the edge of the case, that visor shot a quick nod. [ I can set these up and you can bet that this will be plenty of distraction!] no lie, he was quite pleased with himself.

 

[Rhea]

His delight was infectious, another small laugh falling from her chest as she rubbed her face again. "Yeah I can't say we used this over at base, but I'll hazard a guess this would distract them alright." Or burn the place down. Same diff.

"Okay. Fine. We can use it," she relented after another moment of pure flabbergastion. She eyed the 50 kilo crate for another moment, kicking at it with her boot. "But I'm going to need a cart. I'm not lugging this the mile down the sewer tunnel. And you-..." She glanced at his side again, a more prevalent concern now that they were preparing for a self-professed suicide dance.

"Are going to need" another hand? "back up."

She glanced around for a sign of the time, the hour they had to spare dwindling as they made their preparations. Her lips set into a more serious pull, a brow raising at him. "And I'm going to need my gun back."

 

[Drifter]

Was she making a jab at his lack of an arm? A thick brow rose under the helm, eyeballing her. Her awkwardness at trying to talk around the fact he didn't have a left arm was rather amusing.

[ What? Hand? Arm? Appendage? ] he hammered out with notable wryness, his quips as equally self-deprecating as comedic, [ There ain't avoiding the obvious, Pitten. Sweet of you to try and be polite to the invalid. ] Drifter added, chuckling.

[ I have my ways of working things out. You can set some of these up while I do the rest. Now as for getting you to pack some heat ...] a pause, and then a gesture of fingers [ Only if you promise to not try and shoot me. I'm far too pretty to get another hole in my hide. ] another thought, [ Oh an no trying to get trigger happy through this. Proper escalation of force. This is an in and out job. We ain't here to take over the entire bunker. ]

He was setting down his guidelines.

 

[Rhea]

His words left her pausing, a common theme to her response to him. She never just reacted on whim, each comment from him earning at a moment of proper consideration before she picked her words to respond. There was feeble trust between them, but not enough, it seemed, to speak ones mind or expect decency.

The word trigger happy stick in the back of her throat, souring as she was left to stew. Was that really what he thought of her? She swallowed back her ego in the form of a lump and said with less mirth than before, "I will be careful." Her gaze burned intensely before pulling away. She didn't like the suggestion that she wouldn't be just.

She hadnt fallen that far from the Alliance's ways.

Had she?

She twirled the knife closed, sticking it back into her pants and bending down to lift the box in a seamless flow.

"Get the doors, will you?" She grunted, started back to the living center without him.

 

[Drifter]

Ooo, did that come out too strong? Likely. The way her expression seemed to tense and her throat bob the subsequent seconds indicated he'd hit a nerve. Ugh, conscious pangs. Stop. Just... Stop.

With a sigh of defeat, Drifter hung his head, only to gesture and try to gain Rhea 's attention, [ Look, most of the things I say end up being some type of word vomit or another. I can be hyperbolic. My concerns are just making sure we aren't going to end up harming people we don't need to. I have too many deaths on my conscious to add more. ] a bit more revealing than he wanted to be, another tidbit of information. However, he was quick to continue.

[ Here, ] he told her, reaching to his hip where he still had her blaster clipped to the magnetic hook. He held it out to her, [ In case the unexpected happens. ] It was as much of an olive branch as he could give her. For now.

[ I'll get the doors -- ALEX! ] he called out, [ Watch the ship! ]

 

[Rhea]

Rhea paused long enough to let him speak, the proffered olive branch alla gun earning a long look. She hadn't said anything.

How did he keep doing that?

The burning question slipped to the back of her thoughts, her mind already calming and tempering itself for what they were about to head out to do. It was just habit by this point.

"Well good. Now that we got that out of the way." His explanation was accepted with no depth to her own side given. She didn't need to defend herself to move forward and by now she felt like both parties had both owned up to the initial chips on their shoulders. She didn't need to be understood to work with him, just a little bit of faith to pull through.

Trust was the world.

She jutted out her hip for him to stick the gun on, the olive branch taken and extended a step further.

"You'd think your sister would have given Alex arms," she huffed, adjusting the boxes's weight as she waited for the gun to find its way to her holster.

 

[Drifter]

[ Inari, no! ] just the tone would relay how that was a bad idea. [ She'd use them to hit me alongside the head. I already have a mother. I don't need two. ] peanut-gallery quips aside, the way his helm would tilt to the side to glance at her jutting out her hip drew a pause.

[ Oh! You want me to stick it on you. Figures you'd make me do all the work. ] nevermind that she was carrying the box, clearly intending to get some sort of reaction from it. He drew forward, using his hand to do his best to holster it where she'd originally had it on her hip. Her perplexed, searching expression was an open book of questions and curiosities. That he was reading her so easily was bothering her.

Oh if she only knew it was because he was able to read kinetic language, that might have gotten him another earful. At least a decent shove.

Blaster set and clipped, Drifter gestured for her to continue. [ Alright, go on now. We're on a time limit and I don't know about you... but I really want to set these off.]

 

[Rhea]

Rhae snorted, moving a little haphazardly towards the exit as she weaved around the storage space for a sign of a cart. A two-wheeled one was found at the very end, strapped to the wall to keep it in place. She wordlessly transferred her load onto another stack, quick movements pulling down the cart and setting it all up.

The door whooshed open, the rich scent of sewer washing over her in a cool, damp wave. She crinkled her nose, tilting her head up to face down the dark depths of the pipe they would soon walk.

She pulled the last strap soundly around the crate, then startled. "You wouldn't happen to have a lighter in that helmet of yours?" Came the belated comment. Imagine being in the middle of the damn thing and realize they came without it.

Chaos.

 

[Drifter]

A snort and chortle. [ My helmet isn't a Republic Army knife. ] he shot back, heavily amused. Not only at her musing, but watching her face scrunch up as that sweet, sweet, putrid, hot mess of trash, poodoo, piss, and stagnant water baked under the hot sun hit Rhea 's nose.

Small amusements. Again, the reason why he kept his helm on. [ Ahhh, yes... get a good whiff. ] obnoxious as he was, he gestured as if wafting the air towards that polarized helm, clearly not affected by the stench.

[ Know what that smell is? Opportunity! ] he sang, boldly striding forward -- only to pause. Right. A lighter. Shit. A sudden spin at the ball of his foot and he bent down, [ Be right back! ]

With no shame, he went back into the cargohold of the ship.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea snorted back, getting a good wiff of REGRET as she did so.

"And fetch a torch! Fecking a-" she finished off, murmuring under her breath as she pulled her shirt up to her nose. In the sudden silence of his departure, the stillness opened up a poignant realization.

She had missed this.

Partnership. A dynamic.

The emotions hit her in a wave, goosebumps erupting over her skin. Gods it should be them she was with right now. Before she could unpack the thought any further, his footsteps scattered back towards her. She cleared her throat, rubbing her arm to wipe it all away. "Right, you ready?" She grabbed the cart, her back to him as she set right out, giving him no time to respond.

 

[Drifter]

[ Right! One lighter.] Drifter said, brandishing the small, black rectangular contraption as if it were the prize of the night.

[ Yup! We just have to make sure we keep these dry -- otherwise, we'll just end up with a soggy mess. ] and a very dejected Drifter. There was always something exciting about setting off fireworks. Besides, they could be so pretty.

[ Don't know about you, but I'm betting the sight alone will get us plenty of access as they all go running on their little feet to catch the show. Never fails. Something shiny and they'll just get distracted. Almost like you with the ball. ] he chuckled, walking on past her to slosh on ahead, boots stepping on inch deep sewer water. He didn't have to worry about the stench. Rhea did.

[ So, ] as pulling up his wrist to give a few taps of the display on his forearm. He checked the status of the drones. They were mapping an investigation without issue so far. [ If you're not Alliance, then what are you?]

 

[Rhea]

The cart rolled on, tossing up slush at him as he trudged past.

--Almost like you and the ball.

She blinked, thinking back at once and-...Sonofa. Their banter painted a fair picture similar to a game of cat and mouse, in which case she was most inaptly named Pitten. There was the urge to one up, the instincts of a girl that once never backed down from a challenge or let others win. "The Alliance is dead."

And so was the girl.

"I'm Rhea," she told him, her voice even as she did so. "Just Rhea." Her steps were rhythmic as they pushed on, the identifier echoing through her head like a chant.

Just Rhea. Just... Rhea.

After a moment, she expanded, giving more details for the first time. "I just take what work I can. There's not much out there for--" A child-reered solider?

"Someone like me. How's it looking?" She asked, trying to kill the convo in its crib as he scanned his display.

 

[Drifter]

Oh, so feeling defensive eh? Well, that answered one question. Drifter didn't need to see the lift of her chin or the way her eyes flashed. Just Rhea, hmm? Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?

Another tell was the way she was repeating her name like it was a mantra. Yeah, likely either part of the former Alliance or close to someone who had been.

[ So a jack of trade of sorts or a merc? ] they came to a crossroads -- two large openings with what appeared to be an iron gate blocking the path. [ It's looking like we are gonna have to get past this. ] he gave a frown, bringing up the map.

[ It should be left... I think. ] the last bit was muttered low. He gave a scratch at the side of his helm as if it would relieve an itch. [ You can lockpick things can you? ] he asked her, panning over to look at her.

 

[Rhea]

"You... think," she echoed dryly.

Could she lock pick it?

"What? Don't have a pop out tool in that helm of yours?" She glanced back, eyes alight as she managed a small dig back. Rea, point. She snaked her fingers through her hair, holding his gaze in a soft 'ha' as she supplied a hair pin. "Yeah," she finally answered, letting him slide. "I can pick a lock." Eyes still holding his, she leaned forwards the grate. The force surged.

In a flash she drew her blaster and shot the lock clean through. Without looking. It was back in her holster before the sound was over, the metal glowing red hot around the hole of metal blasted through.


Supercharged.

Two points. She winked, turning back around and shimming it opened enough for them to both slide through. "I can do a lot of things. Here, grab one side-- help me get this over the lip." She grunted banging into the metal she tried to squeeze her and the cart through.

"I'm guessing they dont teach rich boys how to deal with locks where you're from."

 

[Drifter]

[Doyounotseethefireworksbehindyou?!] Nevermind, that he might have done the same! But a stray blaster bolt striking that combustible pack was sure to light them both to the netherworld and back.

Rhea would not need Drifter to take off his helm to imagine the roll of his eyes by his body language, adding in exasperation as he bent down to help move the cart. [ You seem to be pretty obsessed with my helm. Is it that eye fetish again? ]

Fine so she managed to get them past the gate. Again, another bang. [ Hey, hey! Easy with the goods!]

 

[Rhea]

It was her turn to snicker, the small show over as they got it over and she took up the cart handle again. "Sith have red eyes." She slid the bobby pin in her hair, pushing forward. "It's not a fetish, it's a precaution. Though I suppose if you were sith you'd already have done something by now," she grumbled, shooting him a once over.

There was very little 'sith' in his antics and games. Seeing him flustered, though, was almost worth the echo she sent down the mile long tunnel.

"Have you met one?" Came the even keeled question, every effort made to keep her tone even and nonchalant as she watched her steps.