Treasure Trove

[Connory Monroe]

One of these days, Cory thought as shook off another fool trying to sell her junk, I will go someplace nice. Cloud city had a reputation for being nice, but like every city, self contained or otherwise, there was a seedy district. Work kept her on the move, and today was just another day hunting for a job. Word had reached her of a small junkyard near the warehouses that was seeking able hands.

Cory was able, hell, she could have worked at the docks themselves if she was so inclined, but there was something about the idea of a junkyard that appealed to her. What was the saying? One man’s junk is another man’s treasure? She’d locked her ship up, leaving Princess inside it and was dreading what chaos she’d come back to with the tooka contained for any length of time.

Escaping the handful of merchants close to the docks she meandered her way through workers heading in and out of the warehouses, recalling the directions given to her at the docks, she swung a right passed the warehouses and saw it, a smile creeping on her face as she entered through the gates. There was a small pile of fighters near the gates, neatly stacked, and she paused, recognising an old X-wing at the bottom, beaten, rusty and spotted with carbon scoring. Oh, the tales junk could tell you.

Tearing herself away in fear of getting too distracted she wandered through it, seeking someone in charge.

[member="Kasra Priest"]

 

[Kasra Priest]

[member="Connory Monroe"]

It was satisfying work.

Not glamorous or particularly profitable, but good work.

The fact that Priest didn't need to kill anyone while doing it was an additional benefit. He should have left Manda'yaim sooner. Before. When things had been relatively peaceful and okay. Instead Kasra had allowed himself to be swept into the tide. Family, clan, this is the way, and there they went. That was how it always started. It meant being caught completely unaware when the Death Watch came knocking.

Instead of a graceful departure, he had to flee his world. But it had worked out. Day in and day out of honest work. The weekends filled with booze. Bespin was better these days once the Order got kicked out.

"Anything I can help ya with, ma'am?" Kasra drawled out, while rising himself up from the remnants of an over-sized speeder bike. There was a curious (but other than that neutral) expression on his face. Perching there, weighing on the nose, while he weighed if she was okay. It didn't often happen that new people just strolled into his junkyard after all.

"Name's Kasra Priest, you?" Commenting lightly as he soaked his hands in the old rag. No less dirty than the oil sticking to his hands. "I'd offer a shake, but..."

Wiggling his fingers with some humor.

But that drawl of his? Clear Mandalorian touched.

 

[Connory Monroe]

Cory hesitated, her smile flickering momentarily. No one had told her he was a mandalorian. He might not have been clad in armour, but that accent was unmistakable. She’d made a habit of avoiding her kin, mainly because once they heard her name, they tended to try and kill her. The consequences of being the daughter of a genocidal maniac. Still, times had changed and there was a new mandalorian to hate.

“I’m no stranger to grease stains.” she replied finally, showing her own hands. Oil was difficult to get out without a good soak in a tub and it was ingrained in her own palms. “I’m Connory Monroe. Cory, for short.”

She kept moving, circling slowly eyeing the things around them, rather than the man himself. “Quite the place you have here. Oryon told me you were looking for help. Didn’t mention you were a mando though. How long since you left, vod? Did you get out before the sith or..?”

[member="Kasra Priest"]

 

[Kasra Priest]

[member="Connory Monroe"]

Ah, a fellow greaseball.

Some of the worry ebbed there. Until she said her name, anyway. A brief flicker of recognition emerged in his eyes. She'd see that. Maybe she was already steeling herself for some sort of fiery reaction. An exclamation of horror. Chasing her out of the yard with a spoon. Whatever Monroe expected? She didn't get it. The sins of the mother were not inherited by the daughter.

If that had been the case?

They'd all be full of sin.

"Nice to meetya, Cory." Before watching her track through the yard. He paid attention to the things she seemed most interested in. You could discover a lot about a person by the junk they appreciated.

"Mm, s'true, got a few loads of wreckage from a nearby system. Mostly Order, Ssi-ruu. More work than the droids and me can handle." The rag went down a pocket, before Kasra stretched lightly. Yawning there. It had been a long night. Processing all the metal, the wrecked ships, tech, it was a goldmine. But Kasra had been expecting a little bit less truth to be told.

A lot less honestly.

"You don't mind working with droids?" Some people were particular about that.

 

[Connory Monroe]

He'd avoided her question. That was fine. No one really wanted to talk about what had happened, about how they were splintered and broken. Cory had been splintered since she was fifteen, she'd watched it all from a distance, ignoring her parents calls. In some ways, she was probably considered dar'manda. Whatever, so was her father for a good portion of his life. He'd clearly recognised the name too. Times really were changed.

She forced herself to relax, to try and breath normally now the danger had passed. "Not at all. How are you with animals? I've a tooka and I'm not a fan of leaving her locked up in my ship, she eats everything when she's locked up and rations aren't cheap these days."

[member="Kasra Priest"]

 

[Kasra Priest]

[member="Connory Monroe"]

Maybe some day he'd talk about it.

But he didn't know Monroe and that was that. It probably didn't matter. The Empire had fallen, the Mandalorians subjugated under the yoke of the Sith. In one fell swoop the last Mand'alor had managed to destroy everything the Clans had build. It meant that all that chit about the cure, the Force... it didn't matter anymore. Everyone in charge of that was either dead, a slave or fleeing themselves.

It didn't mean it was comfortable to talk about it however.

"That... is like one of those cats, right?" A shrug there. "Am fine with them, as long as they don't get in the way." Suddenly Kesra snorted there. "Hell, might liven up the place a little bit too."

Hands on his hips he looked around the junkyard for a moment.

"Pay sucks though- can't afford a lot these days, but you will get a cut of commission on every derelict you work on. Fair?"

 

[Connory Monroe]

“Oh yeah, she’s a real ray of sunshine.” Cory’s expression was deadpan and if that wasn’t enough to say how much she believed she didn’t enjoy that tooka’s company, the touch of sarcasm in her voice definitely would. Still, everyone else seemed to like the feline, so maybe it was just her.

She shrugged. “I wasn’t looking for good money. If i was i would have taken an offer up at the docks. Commission is fine, should cover docking fees easy enough and leave me a little spare.” she’d stopped pacing, thumbs hooked through her belt loops.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

[member="Kasra Priest"]