Private Some Nights

[Drifter]

“Yeah, and if I do that, how you gonna get back to your rust bucket before it turns into the next recycler race pod?” The hunter shot back, notable amusement in his wry voice. Weaving between, the crowd, he took in the various stalls and the vendors. One squib was trying to haggle with an Ugnaught. A perfect symphony of snorts, grunts, and excitable gestures.

“Watch, it’ll probably have some random tensor beam just for poodoo and giggles.” He said, complete with a flair of spirit fingers from his left hand.

They came to a crossroads and Drifter slowed to a stop. He looked left. Right. An arm came up and a gesture of his gloved hand swung to the left. “That way.”

Heading off towards that direction he added, “oh I’m not driving.”

Fat chance of that.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea blinked, her brows furrowing in pure confusion. “...you have a ...crew?” She hazard, something about his tone sending her on edge.

She followed him with more patience than not, ducking and weaving with a sense of blind Rhea.


I mean what kinda man wouldn’t know where they left their ship? ...right?

“You can’t stay,” she asserted, ducking something to keep pace. “At least, you can’t stay ‘close’. I really can’t ask you to haul ass waiting for me. I don’t know how long it will take, “ she reasoned, yelping as she had to side step getting her foot squashed.

“Are you lost.”

 

[Drifter]

“A crew?....” a pause, “Not quite,” he didn’t need to look at her direction to tell that explanation wasn’t going to take.

“A pilot droid counts right?” His smirk would bleed through his tone, but he was being quite serious.

“And nah, not lost. Just had to get my bearings. I’m never lost,” this was said with such cocksure assurance it was almost palatable.

“So what exactly do you have to do?” Another question. Back to the important things. Like picking Rhea’s brain.

 

[Rhea]

“Not having your bearings is the very definition of lost,” she shot back, her tone dry. She avoided his question, turning to pick at him in turn. Seemed this little game of theirs was never ending, though she was amenable to answering some things.

Just not this.

“So let me get this straight-- A rich inner rim boy comes all the way out here for a bit of an adventure and he doesn’t know how to fly? That doesn’t add up. Didn’t that family of yours give you lessons?”

Dessert was shoved into her pocket, the woman both too full and wary of the next chance she’d have at a meal. Cinnamon twists would make a great breakfast.

“What if the damn thing breaks?”

 

[Drifter]

‘’I thought this was a ‘you ask a question I answer and vice versa’?” Drifter immediately quipped back, not giving her the luxury of an answer. She had set the rules.

A mild fancy caught his eye, drawing him to a particular stall that sold various curious knickknacks. The vendor was an alien with seven eyes, and it was a good thing Drifter had his helm- it would have been very awkward trying to figure out what set of eyes to focus on.

“Give you two credits for this,” he began, pointing to what appeared to be a rubber blue ball of sorts. A youngling’s toy.

“I bich sla ya backa chu beck,” the vendor garbled back.

With a grin, Drifter shot back, “ ok, one credit!”

What great haggling techniques!

 

[Rhea]

Rhea gave a heavy sigh, resisting much less this time as she rattled out with monotoned frustration, “I have to retrieve an object from a guarded facility --- Are you really buying that? Wait, don’t answer that,” she snapped.

“That wasn’t my question.”

She watched on in restrained judgement as he haggled for the children’s toy.

“You really should know how to pilot yourself. No wonder your parents are worried. How do you expect to deal with anything if it breaks down?”

 

[Drifter]

“Chak bek mupoya flak ba niba sa!” Now the vendor's eyes were waving about his face. It was very distracting. It took Drifter an additional second before he replied, gesturing as if to soothe ruffled nerves, “ yes yes.. you could get three credits but what youngling is going around trying to spend their three precious credits on this?”

He took the ball, tossing it up and down between his hand panning a brief look at Rhea, “freebie, damn right I am!” The jovial tone in his mechanized voice infectious. If he didn’t have his helm on one would see the mischievousness that’s glittered in those orange eyes.

Back to the vendor, “I can give you one credit or two, which do you prefer?” Breaking off, he then added by swinging that polarized visor back at Rhea.

“Probably pay someone to fix it— or bug my sister. I can't do squat with the ship. Other than annoy them. Besides, my parents bought me the droid. I’d end up crashing if they didn’t.”

 

[Rhea]

Rhea raised a brow, her judgemental look long and unspoken as she left him to finish his purchase.

Behind the silence, gears turned. See there wasn’t very much she was good at in this galaxy, besides shooting and killing that was, and what need did he have for those services when he already proved himself capable of disarming her?

The unspoken debt she felt leveraged on her burned in the back of her mind constantly, and his admittance had one thing jumping to mind in an instant.

“Well fine then, I’ll teach you,” she finally told him, crossing her arms as if that settled that. A quick solution to a burning problem. She nodded in pleasure at striking upon it. Meanwhile her eyes following the path of the ball through the air, betraying her growing urge to swipe it away from him.

 

[Drifter]

Seven eyes gave a grumble, but the response went in Drifter’s favor- two credits.

Seeing how Rhea was eyeballing his ball, he caught it on his left hand before searching for a two-credit chip.

“Teach me what? How to break things down? Oh, I already know that well.” The amusement practically bled from his voice, the visor giving a slight shake with his half chuckle, reflecting Rhea’s expression as she followed the line of the toy in this gloved hand. Like a Pitten itching to pounce this one.

After paying the vendor, Drifter once again began to toss the ball from left to right, walking forward onto the flow of shoppers.

 

[Rhea]

Her body tensed, her gaze following it out of the corner of her eye.

She lashed out, going to swipe it up mid air.

“How to drive it,” she restated, exasperation in her tone. “My speeder was not my fault!” ...Much.

“I’m use to flying, you should learn to not depend on a droid.”

 

[Drifter]

Drifter let her take it. Like a Pitten to a new shiny, she took the bait. Perfect distraction.

With an amused snort, Drifter called out over his shoulder, “oh no can do. Thanks but no. Saying this for both of our sakes. I can’t pilot anything larger than a speeder. I crash, “ he swung back around, walking backwards, “every time.”

“And what do you have against droids? Teejay is a perfectly nice droid! I practically grew up with him!”

 

[Rhea]

“A forty year old droid is a droid needing replacing,” came the very thickly concealed jab at his age. She tossed the ball in the air, giving it a testing throw.

“I have everything against droids. For one, they aren’t human. Two, their thinking capacity is inherently limited. And three--” she tossed it again, frowning as it arched through the air.

“We depend on them too much. They break? We’re fucked. This ball was not worth two credits.”

She tossed it back to him.

 

[Drifter]

“Rude!” He cried out in feigned indignation, catching the ball and smoothly transitioning forward again. This time he began to bounce it, getting satisfaction at how quickly it bounced back up again to catch it.

“Ornery and an organic elitist! Tsk tsk,” he exclaimed with a cluck of his tongue in mock disapproval.

“Droids have feelings too. Besides— My sister keeps him in tip to shape with all the bells and whistles.” With a hum, he continued, sauntering to his own internal musical beat. He was like a kid, amused by everything, and seemingly just as nonchalant about it.

“He makes sure I get to where I want to go and I make sure his oil is changed regularly — I can at least do that. “ a pause and a jab of his finger in her direction, “ he’ll also be driving us to where you need to go— so be nice to him. He’s sensitive. “

Another half chuckle and the hunter took a turn to the right. They were near one of the open-air spaceports outside the city.

“So. A heist job eh. What is it you need to get that you have to break in to get?”

Back to the game.

 

[Rhea]

She pressed her lips together, growing a little tight and tense at the jarring question. “ Something that doesn’t matter to you,” she said firmly. A shake of her head followed the statement, outlining the uncrossable line she had just laid out.

She’s answer questions about herself. She’d even given him tidbits of the job to get her closer. But the actual details?

Too risky to drop. She things on the line here. Things that meant more to her than her curiosity.

She crossed her arms, shutting down.

“...Careful.. You’ll hit someone.”

 

[Drifter]

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he immediately quipped to reassure, posture radiating an unnerving amount of confidence.

He continued to play with the ball, constantly entertained, oblivious to the stares and grunts of annoyed patrons trying to avoid being hit by his bouncing ball.

“And sure it does.” He claimed, referencing her heist job, “ you want to enter some secure facility. You have all of a glowing stick you can’t use and I have your blaster. Unless you plan on arguing your way in, I don’t think you can do this yourself without help. Which, luckily enough, I’ve time to kill and your blaster— so I just need to know what to expect.”

Drifter caught the toy and gestured with a flourish, “you know just how much bantha poodoo can I smack talk before expecting to get shot at?” Rhea wouldn’t see the flashing grin he shot at her direction, but it was in his easygoing voice.

“And are you expecting to have to slice into anything?”

What was the game plan?

Never mind they were still in public.

 

[Rhea]

Rhea gave him a tight look, well aware they were in public and tense over it. “Listen here.” She stepped forward, taking his arm as she pressed into his side. She looked around them, then lowered her tone.

“This is something big. Real big. Big enough to buy me back my shuttle, and if you go about fucking it up with your laxidasical attitude you’re gonna find I’m gonna want more than burritos from you, you clear?”

All the while her hand made instrumental movements towards his belt line, going by memory to where he had stashed her gun.

 

[Drifter]

“Easy with the goods!” Drifter exclaimed, his amused tone belying the swiftness that his free hand came up to attempt to wrap at her inquisitive wrist. Laxidasical he might be, stupid he was not. Not when she already proved to be a feral little Pitten with claws.

He spent a lifetime trying to prove that he could keep up with his sisters, training with his father and uncle to get him where he was at now. Not to mention his time in the covenant running missions against the Sith— or the last two years fighting with the Alliance before it fell.

Or more aptly, when that First Order space station blew up and Drifter gave up an arm, his sanity, and the life of his uncle to save what lives he could. The end result was almost half a year in a coma with his parents and sisters worried half to death.

He was happy to play games; not so thrilled about getting a blaster pointed at him again by an ungrateful alliance die harder with a chip on her shoulder the size of Esme’s blonde head.

The hunter drew that reflective visor close to Rhea, close enough to see that scowling expression she wore. What came next lacked the typical humor he’d shown her before. In its stead that mechanized drone turned terse.

“Make no mistake- I’ll help you. But you have to be honest with me. I don’t want to end up hurting anyone I don’t need to.”

As if he couldn’t be any more direct...

“ You can barely function without eating and you can’t do this alone. You think breaking into a secure facility is a piece of cake? Hate to break it to you, but it takes more than a haphazard plan and a getaway speeder. So— play the game, answer the question. I’ll do so in turn.”

That helm gave a cock to the right.

“So, what is the plan?”

 

[Rhea]

Her gaze tightened for a moment, the muscles in her wrists straining in protest against the grip. She Wasn’t used to being caught out. One upped. Restrained. She never thought herself invincible, but he seemed to read her movements like a book.

His words cut deep, the reminder of her situation bringing out a wash of heat over her cheeks. Her mouth opened, about to give a sharp retort about not needing his help. But that wasn’t true.

That wasn’t true and she wasn’t too proud not to admit it. Accepting it was a harder matter, but at least she wasn’t so blinded by emotions she couldn’t see truth when it was before her.

She was left reeling as he redirected things back to the mission at hand. She took a deep breath before begrudgingly answering.

“A corusca gem,” she gritted, returning her hands back to her person. “Stolen from one warlord by another. I get it back, I earn back part of my ship. I don’t, I’m stuck here. ...And perhaps they break a kneecap,” she grumbled, hoping he’d sober up to this.

This wasn’t some game to her.

She had no returned question.

 

[Drifter]

Huh.

Drifter relaxed his grip, letting Rhea tug her arm away. He appeared to pensively muse a bit at that information. The end result was a low, mechanized whistle as if to say, damn.

“With one of the Squib overlords?” Or were they talking about the sort that made what gains they could on a world that has seen more battles than most? War led to people taking advantage; Skor II wouldn’t be the first or the last.

“I honestly haven’t kept track of the power struggles beyond the King. It’s been over a year since I was here last.” Random tidbit, but his general demeanor relaxed back to its casual state, the hunter taking up walking again. They were close to the landing pad.

“But if that’s the goods, I can bet you there will be some amped up security. One of those can easily buy a small moon.” They were only found by the gas planet out in the outer rim. One of The hardest known substances and often said to carry living fire in their core.

 

[Rhea]

She gave a small shrug, shoving her hands in her pocket. “It’s nothing I’m not trained to handle,” she commented. And for once, she carried that same self-assured confidence as he did. She had no doubt in her mind that she could get in and out without much issue. She had spent her adult life preparing for and completing objectives not unlike this.

Whether or not she had had food in her stomach didn’t factor.

She had been trained for such conditions.

This was the rhetoric she had been telling herself since she got the terms leveled at her by the war lord. And now she had a shortcut to reaching it. If anything, she was more confident now. If not for her concern over his involvement. She really only trusted herself not to go messing things up.

The motto served her well in life up until this point.

“Just some minor squib. Mela, I think his name is. Came from nothing. Has been working his way up through the network until now. No telling what he’ll do with that kinda money. Some damage, I’d think.”

The ships laid out before them on the docks, the compact ground hot and radiating back the heat reflecting off the metal hulls. She wiped at her forehead, slurping up the last of the drink.

“That yours?” she guessed, looking to the biggest.