Character
Cale's promise to keep his attention on her, and only her, normally would have made her eyes roll into the back of her skull. Flirting or flattery, Maeve cared for neither, but from him? Heat crept up her neck. Her drinking glass, too—as much as she'd fought the urge—found itself back on her lips, and down the wine went, off to smother her senses and whatever odd feelings kicked in her chest.
"So," Maeve replied, "should one of our neighbors start choking on their third serving of Calamari cakes, you won't rush to their aid? I appreciate the courtesy, Cale, but I don't expect you to have your eyes on me all night." They were Jedi. Danger had a habit of following, and Maeve could spare at least some of her attention on the patrons around them.
Not as much as she should have, though, with Cale the way he was.
She leaned in as he told his story, and a smile softened her lips as he finished. "Weapons and spice. You should be glad we never crossed paths, then. I would've been all too glad to see you behind bars." She shrugged. "You are lucky I am feeling very forgiving tonight."
Maeve wasn't surprised Cale hadn't dabbled in flesh trade. She knew he was better than that, despite whatever crimes he'd committed or unscrupulous jobs he'd resorted to.
Besides, who was she to judge with so much blood on her hands?
Maeve hesitated at his question. Drank again. "Well," she said. "It's not pretty, if that is what you're asking. Sith killed my family, so I killed them in return. A Jedi found and raised me afterwards, so I killed more. I learned that was what I did best, and it's all I've done since."
Maeve smiled, then realized what she'd just said. She bit her lip. "And… it would seem I've killed the mood as well, haven't I?" She bowed her head apologetically. "There, uh, isn't much to know about me that you haven't already heard."
"So," Maeve replied, "should one of our neighbors start choking on their third serving of Calamari cakes, you won't rush to their aid? I appreciate the courtesy, Cale, but I don't expect you to have your eyes on me all night." They were Jedi. Danger had a habit of following, and Maeve could spare at least some of her attention on the patrons around them.
Not as much as she should have, though, with Cale the way he was.
She leaned in as he told his story, and a smile softened her lips as he finished. "Weapons and spice. You should be glad we never crossed paths, then. I would've been all too glad to see you behind bars." She shrugged. "You are lucky I am feeling very forgiving tonight."
Maeve wasn't surprised Cale hadn't dabbled in flesh trade. She knew he was better than that, despite whatever crimes he'd committed or unscrupulous jobs he'd resorted to.
Besides, who was she to judge with so much blood on her hands?
Maeve hesitated at his question. Drank again. "Well," she said. "It's not pretty, if that is what you're asking. Sith killed my family, so I killed them in return. A Jedi found and raised me afterwards, so I killed more. I learned that was what I did best, and it's all I've done since."
Maeve smiled, then realized what she'd just said. She bit her lip. "And… it would seem I've killed the mood as well, haven't I?" She bowed her head apologetically. "There, uh, isn't much to know about me that you haven't already heard."
