Private Some Nights

[Drifter]

“Buying a chocolate milkshake,” there was such a proud, satisfied rock of his heels just with saying that. The reflective visor swung over to Sia, and one could practically read the giddiness radiating from him.

“My favorite.” he added, “You ever been to a Yum Bunnies before? This isn’t like their traditional gigs. Sad really, the girls always wear bright orange short-shorts and these short white tank tops that say,” his gloved hands came up, gesturing over his chest, “Feeling Lucky.”

“Brilliant isn’t it?” Drifter chuckled, “Known for the hot girls and their Nuna wings. You should try the spicy Corellian sauce. Really tasty!” his thumb and forefinger came together, gesturing the universal sign of ‘perfection’ in an ‘ok’ hand signal.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea sighed, dropping her head into her hands and running her fingers through her hair. The brown locks were rather unattended to. Most of her appearance was. What was self care out here in the rough ends of things. Maybe enough food and proper protection?

“Ok, what about where you come from. Why aren’t you with this family you talk so much about?” Maybe starting it easier would help.

He viewed her as grumpy, she saw right through his cheerful quips. It was as thick as a wall as there ever was, and likewise, she wasn’t inclined to push so hard if he was going to stubbornly keep pushing back.

 

[Drifter]

The sudden wagging of a finger in front of Sia would interrupt her in the end, “Ah, ah, ah,” that finger quickly swept left to right.

“You asked a question. I answered. Your turn now.” After all, she set the rules and he followed them fair and square. Well, literally. She asked what he was doing here, and well, he was buying a chocolate shake.

“So, is that lightsaber really yours?” to the important questions. See, this was a game. A game he played to win and have fun in any way he could. Sia, he reckoned, was his entertainment for the day.

Here’s hoping she wasn’t going to reconsider adding an extra hole or two in his hide.

A small ding behind them would flash a number. Two more and Drifter would get his shake.

 

[Rhea]

“But you didn’t- I asked-“ her eyes narrowed, the woman quickly realizing the terms of this exchange had shifted. The play wasn’t going to end just cause she had him down and talking. She was left distinctly feeling like a cats toy as she sat before his waggling finger, her lips pressing into a thin line as he went all in.

“Yes,” she answered in turn, her tone tense and gritting as all further details were held back. And there were quite a few of them.

She raised her chin, eying him down. “Why do you care so much about that light saber?”

 

[Drifter]

“Huh,” Drifter made a slight noise of curiosity, tilting his head to the right to study her body language and the subtle nuances of her face, hands, and down to how she would shift her body. He was reading her to determine if she was lying to him. Off the bat, there was a certain level of emotion there. The slight twitch of fingers. A shift of weight. The way her voice fell a few octaves, becoming hoarse, words forced through tightly clenched teeth.

“Interesting.” behind them, the aurabesh sigils flashed to another number. Just one more and he would have that sweet, sweet chocolate shake.

Now, as towards her question, “Oh, that’s easy,” the hunter replied, giving a nod as if that was a perfectly solid question to ask.

“Because I don’t want you stabbing me or yourself with it. You already tried to give me an extra hole. I don’t need another one.” It was very matter of fact. Also likely not the answer she wanted to really know. She would need to really consider how to word her questions. This is what happened when you had three sisters and had an entire life of trying to win word battles.

“So, how did you end up with the lightsaber?” so very nonchalant.

 

[Rhea]

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, the woman looking down to her hands in an effort to keep herself composed. She could not see him, she could see what the did behind that visor, but she had a sense that was half the point.

She could feel his gaze heavy and steady on her, obsverding god knows what for who knew what. His agenda was as clear as glass of mud. She wasn’t going to be feeding him any more information about herself this she had to.

She tore at a cuticle. “It was given to me. And yeeees,” she huffed, half mocking him. “Legally.”

More like bequeathed. Along with all the other things the master had carried on him. What else was supposed to happen to a deadman’s stuff. She looked back up at him, gaze sharp.

“Are you a Jedi?” She caught herself and corrected, “or were you. Have you been… among… jedi?”

 

[Drifter]

That impenetrable gaze would only reflect a mirror of herself. Behind the mask, however, Drifter found himself frowning, brows drawing together. The navpoints were connecting. A Galactic Alliance Key chain. The lightsaber that was given to her. Her obsession with killing Sith. Add to that her insistence on determining if he lay on either side of those particular Force philosophies.

She must have known a Jedi. The Alliance had several. His sister Esme had led the Covenant, and in turn, had been one of the founding Masters to build the Jedi Temple on Sullust -- well before the First Order and the Sith Empire brought it crumbling down in a fiery blaze.

Turning towards the droid, he called out, “Hey, can I get an order of your spicy Correllian Nuna nuggets?” a pause, then another way, “Oh, and a juma juice.”

He flashed his comm watch over the payment scanner again, the credits quickly paying the bill. Turning back to Sia, the hunter would tap his fingers against his thigh, “That’s three questions.” he would remind her.

“To answer all of the above -- it’s complicated.” nothing was ever black and white.

“You hungry?” one question and the next second brought the anticipated chocolate shake as well as a packet of spicy Nuna nuggets and that juma juice.

“That’s for you. “ he gestured, eagerly picking up his chocolate shake. Ah, the moment of truth. With brisk fingers, his left hand came up to his helm… and then pressed a small section along the jawline that revealed a small straw. With quick work, he extended the tube, twisting the end. With a flourish, he managed to connect the straw in the milkshake with the tube he pulled out.

Yep, the helm was not coming off.

“Life isn’t just about the Jedi or the Sith,” slurrrrrrrrpppppppp. “My sister is one though. A full-fledged, stick up the ass Jedi.”

A pause.

“So why so obsessed with Sith and Jedi?” Question two. He’ll let her have the third.

 

[Rhea]

Her eyes dropping heavily to the nuggets, brimming with desire. She was starving. She did not reach for them, though the sudden onset of suppressed hunger wreaked havoc on her ability to think.

She was silent as she watched him pull over his visor, alight with anticipation as… she snorted, shaking her head at the straw.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

She leaned back, trying to stretch the tension out of her body. It was betraying her, she was self-aware enough to know that. Still, the tidbit about his sister was interesting enough. She filed it away and leaned in, her nostrils flailing against the smell of food.

Not hungry.

His next question hit her like a ton of bricks, her eyebrows going up and her head shaking.

“That’s not a question, that’s a life’s story,” she called out.

She grimaced, a woman of her word. She rubbed at her face and struggled for the right words. “Condensed version? They destroyed my life.”

She leaned forward eyes narrowing in an attempt to see through his visor, the hair on her arms rose a little, a strange sense hitting her. “... why do you want to figure me out so bad?” She asked, the words possessing her before she could think them through.

 

[Drifter]

Oh, she was a wealth of information. Really, a databroker’s dream. If they were Lorrdian that is. She bled a medley of grief, suspicion, hunger, frustration, and wariness. All that emotion all bundled up in this cacophony of hypertension that was posed to lash out. No bueno.

She was ripe to tip to the Darkside.

The perfect cocktail. All she needed was a bit more shaking and maybe an olive for bitterness.

His fingers began to drum a cheerful beat upon the counter. “... sooo… the Jedi or the Sith?” he could gather which of the two she actually meant, but it was intended to get a better read from her.

As to her question -- the distinct sound of him slurping his shake through that tube was rather obnoxiously loud -- then Drifter added, “A little of column A… a little of column B….” he began, waving his left hand as if to indicate idle curiosity.

“Curiosity? My afternoon entertainment.” if he were being honest, it wasn’t too far off the mark. Not that he wasn’t being cognizant that Sia was going through her own little bit of mental hell with his probing questions, but he was also going through his own hot mess and perhaps misery loves company.

“I don’t know, “ a casual shrug of his right shoulder, “Saw you were having a hard time trying to barter a deal. Next thing I knew I was helping you pop your trunk and then you tried to shoot me.” as if he was the victim here.

 

[Rhea]

A flush of red hit her cheeks, quick and fleeting. “Yeah, well,” she mumbled, looking down to the old vinyl of the table and picking at it. “Last time I felt something like that someone was trying to kill me, so.” She wasn’t sorry.

Well, maybe a little.

“You really shouldn’t be doing tricks like that out about here. The locals might notice.” It wasn’t chastising, but it wasn’t lighthearted either. She glanced up, eyes flicking to the nuggets for the briefest of seconds before landing on the shake and his noisy sucking. “I didn’t need your help.”

 

[Drifter]

“Someone previously popped your trunk and then they tried to kill you?” that quip flew out edged with a hint of bemusement. Oh, he was being deliberately obtuse. He knew it.

“Gotta watch the company you keep around rust buckets like the one you own,” another loud slurp, followed by a “Mmmmm. So good.”

Drifter then immediately went leaning forward, forearm resting on the table, his visor peering close to her.

“You should eat. Food is getting cold. That sauce ain’t gonna lick itself off--- just saying.” as an afterthought, he also added, “So? Not like the Sith or the Jedi are the only Force users out there. Skor Two has seen its fair share of both and everything in between. People only make a fuss when one starts randomly attacking people. “ A pointed glance at her direction was all he needed to do to convey what he was thinking -- like what you did.

“And maybe you didn’t need my help,” he brought his left hand up, stretching his fingers over to push the nuna nuggets in her direction, sliding them closer to her. This was done on purpose. His mother always said that food had the ability to comfort. It was easier to talk when you were able to do something with your fingers and stuff your face. There was a reason why breaking bread was the best way to get to know someone.

“But you were not going to get a better deal. Squib rather trade than take credits. He was pitching high so you would offer him something else instead.”

Another tidbit of information regarding what he knew about the locals at least.

 

[Rhea]

She leveled him that tight, wary look, considering him and the nuggets. As he talked, she slowly reached out, breaking apart a nugget and slipping it between her lips.

Composure.

Chew it properly. Ok swallow.

The grease residue of the meat stuck to her tounge, leaving behind a taste that only made it harder to keep her thoughts cohesive. War had left her in pinches much tighter than a few missed meals, and she would not be undone by a box of chiccy nuggies.

There was no stopping her fingers from reaching out for more, only a grunt as she received his words. No sauce neeeded.

“I would have rather given them a shoe,” she told him over a mouthful, grumbling all the while. “Tell me, do you make it a habit of bartering of peoples possessions without their consent?”

 

[Drifter]

“Not shiny enough,” Drifter quickly replied, letting his fingers drum along the cup holding his shake.

It did not slip past him that she did not answer his question concerning if it was the Sith or the Jedi she had some sort of issue with. The conversation managed to move a bit more organically, so Drifter wasn’t going to hold it against her.

“A shoe that is. Wouldn’t have been worth much.” at her question, he set the cup down and stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles in that devil-may-care manner of his.

“No -- I just made the suggestion. You followed through with it. “ truth. If she really didn’t want to barter that keychain, she could have offered something else.

“Six-hundred and fifty credits or the keychain with the Galactic Alliance symbol? Seemed you did not have the patience to go to another stall and haggle to find the part you need. He also knew you were desperate and angry.” all matter of fact points. It was a rather pragmatic way of thinking.

“Which reminds me,” Drifter leaned forward again, “So, what ties do you have with them? The former Galactic Alliance that is.”

Ah, back to the question game again.

 

[Rhea]

She stiffened subtly. Guess she shoulda expected him to make her connection. She was carrying a damn keychain. Still, the woman had made it a habit to avoid any ties that gave away who she had been, or were she had come from. It was something she was trying to shake.

She wasn’t even sure why she had to go about keeping her old fighter keychain.

She just needed the reminder, okay?

She took a deep breath in and out, taking another spare moment to lick each of her fingers clean before deigning to answer, “I served. Back when there was something to serve. What color are your eyes,” she followed up seamlessly, pushing aside the empty nugget box and reaching for the drink.

 

[Drifter]

“Huh, thought so,” Drifter admitted, leaning back on his seat as if satisfied and feeling vindicated in his investigation.

“What with how you were trying to claw my one arm off.” could not help but give that quip, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in devilry.

At her continual inquiry about the color of his eyes, Drifter gave a bark of laughter. “You are really obsessed with my eyes.” his shoulder shook incredulously at her, hilariously amused.

“I mean, I know they are pretty. But what does their color matter?” His head gave a cant to the right, her reflection perfectly capturing her image mid nugget munching.

Suddenly leaning even closer, he murmured low enough for Sia to hear him say, “Do you have an eye color fetish?” even the metallic resonance was not able to hide the laughter in his tone.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea pursed her lips, answering rather clippidly. “Two questions. No answers~”

She gave him a look of utter chastising before knocking the whole glass back. It was no ale, but the sweet thickness of the juice did hella wonders on her parched throat. She clunked it down rather loudly, a brow raising as she waited for him to amend his mistep.

“Your rules. Not mine.

 

[Drifter]

“HAH!” Drifter’s laughter roared loudly again, fading into a chuckle. A point of his finger threw her words back, “Technically, your rules. You wanted to compromise. One answer to my question for everyone I answered of yours. Tch.”

The cluck of his tongue was a red flag, a mild taunt.

“My mother says I have my father’s eyes.” He practically sang, spreading his arm a little wide, rather proud of himself. “So does my older sister in fact. Remember that Jedi with the stick up her ass I told you about?”

Another wag of his finger, emphasizing “Such a stuck up. Let me tell you, it is hard to get her to laugh at anything.” he then leaned forward, as if sharing a secret, “But then I found her stash of holo trashy romance novels. Even the great Jedi Master has her weaknesses, eh!”

A pause.

“So back to the eye fetish.”

 

[Rhea]

“I do not have an eye fetish,” she answered flatly, with no hesitation.

She stilled for a moment, going quiet as she tried to piece together everything she had learned about him.

Knew jedi. Didn’t want to be one. No wonder, going a minute without cracking jokes would probably kill him. Had training, didn’t outwardly hate sith— not galliactic then. Too worldly to be anything inner. That didn’t really narrow down into anything that made sense.

She frowned at him, jutting her chin forward. “Why not show me your face then, right now. Why hide it?”

 

[Drifter]

“Pity,” Drifter responded, chuckling as if to indicate what a sad loss to the lack of an eye fetish. “I could have knocked that out of the system.” yup, that confidant arrogance that radiated from him with devil-may-care charm was palatable.

Amused at her aggressive stance and obsession over his helm, Drifter brought his right hand up and with his fingers, began with a deadpan, “Oh, simple. One - “ he held up his forefinger, “because I do not want to breathe in the scent of Nuna nuggets with yesterday’s recycler rubbish. That would ruin my chocolate shake here.”

“Two,” a second finger joined the first, “Don’t want to breathe in the sand. That shit burns. And ugh, getting it out of your eyes and mouth is just annoying.” he gave a visible shudder as if the thought of having to deal with it was beyond compare.

“Three, “ he turned his palm towards him, flashing her three digits, thumb and pinky held down, “and the most important --” a pause for properly building up anticipation.

“I am far too pretty to get a sunburn under Skor Two’s sun. You see how hot it is out there? I’ll end up with more freckles than I’d ever want.”

Whether or not that was all true was up to debate, but Drifter had a way of selling it as if he genuinely had this intent behind it all.

“Oh and as a freebie, because I already told you -- “ he gave another gesture of his hand, bringing it over to his chest, “I don’t take it off on the first date. High standards, remember.”

Yup, one should never expect Drifter to be serious.

Or was he?

 

[Rhea]

“This isn’t a date,” she inserted firmly, a dry edge to her tone that hadn’t been there before. She also hadn’t deign to give his semantics much of an acknowledgement in the past.

She looked away from him, peeling back curtains to check on her speeder. A few curiously faces mulled around it, but as suspected,, they’d have a horrible time trying to move it. It remained hers.

“Those are shit reasons, and you never asked your question.