Three

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Three.

That was how many times Cyril had circled Binkie trying to figure out what in Corellia's Nine Hells he should say to this woman. She was angry - she always angry. This was a different kind of malevolence though, something serious. [member="Charlene Adaska"] was upset beyond the usual. It was probably over something small; a missing wrench perhaps.

Either way, it needed resolved. That fell on Cyril's shoulders as he fancied himself the head of their little cell. Part of the job was keeping people from killing each other, and Charlene seemed quite likely to burn down Kinthar any day now.

He strode up the ship's landing ramp, and went straight for the engine room. It was where the Mirialian spent most of her time, if she wasn't there then something was wrong.

He knocked on the side of the doorway and strode inside.

"You're pissed." He said in greeting. "What's the issue?"

 

[Charlene Adaska]

Serenity. At last, she had found it. Just for a breif moment, but it was there. She spent some time meditating, conversing with her Gods, praying at the makeshift alter she had set up. She found a smile at last. A bright point.
This ship. She had Binkie still. In a sad, sick way, she knew this ship depended on her. This ship cared what happened to her, because she was the only one that could keep her in the air. She sat crosslegged at her alter.
In her right hand, she held a needle, the other was laid across her knee with the sleeve rolled up. A single candle was melting all over the empty supply kit she had used for her alter. Two shoddy-looking God idols sat on either side of the candle.
She dipped the needle in tiny dishes of handmade ink of various colors spread out along the surface. One speck at a time, she pressed the ink-soaked needle into her forearm, creating an elaborate design in her green flesh.

What Greyson had walked in on, was a very personal, very holy tradition. Charlene was marking her life, her acheivements. Today, she was marking this. The event, him, her work on Binkie, her struggles, her triumph. Today, she was ensuring that after her death, her life would be read on her remains, and they would know that she had made some difference, somewhere.

Because, she had, hadn't she? Good or bad, she kept this boat in the air, kept this crew flying. They never cared, but this ship would have imploded already if not for her work on it. They would all be dead. None of this would have happened. The little things made up life, the little things sometimes mattered most.

The knock made her look up, breaking her from her almost trance-like state.

...Then his voice, and cold fury took the place of the weak happiness she had found.

"You do not belong here, Greyson," she hissed, "Go."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Double posted.

 

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Fine.

Patience was something Cyril didn't much have anymore. He blamed the war for that. It was a virtue all Jedi should have, whether they learned it or had a naturally talent for such. He'd always been a part of the former group, and it was showing now.

He drew in a deep breath, and expelled it slowly. His life was stress these days. Avoiding Imperial patrols on a daily basis. Planing attacks against the Sith that would not prove detrimental for Balmorra's citizens. Dealing with angry crewman that could just go if they didn't want to be here.

He repeated the Jedi mantra for the third time today just under his breath.

"As you wish." He replied, exasperated. The Jedi turned on the heel, and left the engine room, heading toward the bridge. If she didn't want to talk, he wasn't going to push it.

@Charlen Adaska

 

[Charlene Adaska]

"Do you do this to every girl?"

She dropped her needle, turning to look at him from her place at her alter. Her eyes were wide, terrified, wet. She couldn't find that tranquility again. She used to be so happy. Then she met him. How could a Jedi care so little?

"What you did to me. Do you do that to every girl? Use them then throw them aside? You and her- how long, Greyson?"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"Do what?"

He came to a pause halfway down the hall, and looked over his shoulder. He turned bodily toward the Mirilian, strolling back over toward the engine room. It took him a moment to understand what she meant.

That surprised him.

"You came on to me when I was intoxicated. You came onto me." He repeated, giving her an odd look. Then she was teary eyed, and he felt a moment's guilt.

No, not guilt, sympathy. They weren't in a relationship. The woman had made it clear many times that she hated him, and she'd taken advantage of him in a moment of weakness. What did he owe her beyond her service repairing the ship?

"And you made it clear you despised me before and after the fact." He pointed out. "What wrong have I done here?"

[member="Charlene Adaska"]

 

[Charlene Adaska]

"I didn't hate you."

The reply she gave surprised herself, and she showed it on her face. She sat there, arm bleeding from the tattoo she was half-way through, looking up at his cold, unfeeling eyes.

"No, I wasn't happy to be here. I was angry at you. You took me from my home, my friends, my job, everything. I lost it all! Don't you understand!?"

Something wet fell down her cheek. Instead of wiping off her face, she scraped a finger off of the ink-soaked blood.

"Can you honestly blame me for being upset? I can't ever go home now! I can't ever have my old life back. Did you even think once about what your actions have done? How you affected me? You ruined my life!"

She was shivering. He didn't care though. How could she ever think for a second that he might actually... He really hadn't had that much to drink. Just one sip. How could he claim he was intoxicated, unless he had the alcohol tolerance of an infant? Or was he drinking before? He didn't seem drunk to her. She thought he wanted her...

A million questions and scenarios echoed through her mind. What if he was drunk, and she just didn't see it? What if he took advantage of her? She was absolutely trashed, after all. What if he took advantage of her, then changed his mind? It would be easy to say she hated him, so of course she would use her body to punish him. Did she do that? She didn't think she did.

What did I do? What did he do? Why did I think it meant anything?

"Even so, I was starting to warm up. I thought fate had given me a new home. I thought-"

She clutched her stomach, feeling once again like she was going to be sick.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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A moment of clarity struck him. He should have been sympathetic to the woman, not detached. His own problems were monumental, yes, but he'd let them burn his personal bridges far too many times. Perhaps this one could be salvaged.

"Look, you're a good person, and we do appreciate you. Perhaps we haven't said it enough." He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "You'll be missed, but I can't make you stay. If you're so against this, then take the ship. The credits are in your account. You can do whatever you wish."

[member="Charlene Adaska"]

 

[Charlene Adaska]

"I'm not leaving because I'm against it. I'm leaving because of you."
Well, that was harsh, but it was the truth. She had her reasons, almost all of them were centered around him. If he wasn't the center of this operation, she'd be all for it. She'd stay. But how could she now?

"I mean, really. Do you pay off all the women who's lives you've completely ruined?"

...A little too harsh. Time to reign it in a bit. She sighed, patting the spot on the floor in front of her.

"Sit. Look, thanks for the ship. I'll take Binkie and be gone within the week. You'll never see me again. I promise."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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She wanted to leave. He wouldn't stop her. Her work on the ship was helpful, but they weren't going to need it soon enough. Still, her skills might be useful, and Cyril did care about her well-being. He just had other obligations, bigger things to worry about than personal issues.

He sat anyway.

"Where do you plan to go?" He asked quietly, lofting a brow. He was the picture of calm, his expression unreadable. He leaned forward, and lofted a brow.

"We don't want you gone. You want you gone."

[member="Charlene Adaska"]

 

[Charlene Adaska]

The girl took up a fresh needle when he sat down, dipping it in the ink once before continuing on with her personal ritual.

"Anywhere," she answered with a defeated shrug, "I can be left anywhere and it would all be the same. I'll need a new job, a new name, a new face, a new place to live. I'll have no friends, no contacts, no, well, anything."

Her heart pounded with the fear of what was to come for her. A future uncertain, dangerous, lonely. Very lonely. She pressed the needle into her skin, making the green flesh bit by tiny bit.

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" she asked after a short moment of silence, "Had you told me, I would not have done a thing. I am a woman with my own morals, you know. And I certainly would not have gotten... attached."

She glanced up, digging a little too deep with her needle. Emotions. They were powerful. She needed to be calm, keep her hand steady. None of this mattered. It was a moment in time, past. Gone forever in the wind, just like her fleeting affections for him.

"I think she should know as well. You wronged her too, you know."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Assumptions, assumptions. Everyone always assumed far too much. Cyril sat stone faced as she gave her piece. She thought he and Cyrene had been an item during that stupid night? Not a chance.

"We weren't together before Balmorra." He explained, lofting a brow. She would just go off into the night then? He supposed he couldn't stop her. Not at this point.

The Jedi pushed up to his feet.

"There's nothing to tell her. She wasn't wronged."

[member="Charlene Adaska"]

 

[Charlene Adaska]

"So you just kiss women full on the mouth out of nowhere and call it a relationship?"
She raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not believing a single word of it. She wasn't stupid.

"Even if she was not wronged, I was. If you could be bothered to care just a tiny bit, I'd be grateful. Part of being a Leader is showing some form of empathy for your crew. Hell, isn't that part of being a Jedi!? Trying to understand the people you hurt? I've only met a small number of Jedi, admittedly during my life, but you, Greyson, are by far the worst. If I didn't know how much you hated them, I'd be convinced you were a Sith, with the way you used me then threw me out. My point is, you should have told me!"

[member="Cyril Grayson"]