Trouble Doesn't Always Knock

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

Food, shelter, supplies and a look inside Rindaren's shop, no doubt. Qyren glanced at the door when someone went by the room. She would take him to her home, but she very much doubted her parents would agree should she ask. There was always the way Kyyare'tenat got alone time with that merchant from off world... Qyren felt heat rising to her cheeks at the very thought. She rarely lied to her parents-- but she had done that for this stranger already. It had been important enough. He was important enough. For some reason.

The snicker pulled her from her thoughts and she cast a startled glance in his direction. He couldn't possibly know what she was thinking, but the timing was awkward. She glanced over his face, trying to ascertain what he was thinking. It was hopeless.

"I can help," she agreed. "But will you really be ready to leave today?" There had been so much blood... That seemed unlikely.

There was always Innitb-- Rindaren's shop. It would be empty and she doubted the authorities would connect his closure with the fight the night before, not right away. She would suggest it, when the time came.

Without a word, she gestured at his side to demonstrate her meaning.

 

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Was she blushing? No, something else. There was little reason for her to be embarrassed.

Rook fell silent as she asked her question. Would he be ready to move? Part of him wanted to say no. The doctor had pointed out that he would not be all together for a few days. Moving out just a few hours after being shot with a disruptor was not a good idea for any being. That did not mean it was impossible. He drew in a deep breath; mulled it over.

"Thanks," he offered a smile, this one entirely real, "I'd be up to my neck in osik on my own." With that, he pushed upward. The movement was agonizing painful -- like his torso was set aflame. His lips twisted with silent curses as he eased himself into an upright position. The pain dulled when he finally managed to right himself, but it was bearable.

"I'll need some painkillers, but I should be alright to move after that," he paused, "Thank you Qyren." That was no practiced act. It was sincere; something that felt a bit odd given the events that had transpired over the past few weeks.

"I should probably find some pants before I get up, eh? Dunno how it is here, but I doubt anyone would want a show this early in the morning."

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

[SIZE=9pt]She smiled at his thanks and gave a slight inclination of her head to acknowledge it. When Alex began his painful ascent to a seated position, Qyren took an instinctive half-step forward, but stopped herself short. Although it was clearly a slow process for him, he managed it on his own. Qyren relaxed her ready stance.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Bounty hunters-- and she assumed that was what Alex was-- were used to working alone and Alex had clearly seen enough combat to know his own limits. If he couldn't do it, he wouldn't.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Unless he's stubborn enough to ignore what's best. He said hours before, now he's saying now. The idea seemed entirely plausible to her.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Heat burned in her cheeks at his final joke, and Qyren turned to the door as much to hide her own flustered state as to look for a passing nurse. "Your pants should be in the bag with your belongings, but the hospital might have a spare pair in case they cut them off of you for some reason. Should I send the nurse in and wait for you in the waiting room?" She paused, but, before he could respond, added, "Or will you be getting your clothes and painkillers on your own?”[/SIZE]

 

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He was in good spirits now. Any kind of joke that had a woman blushing tended to make him feel a bit better. Confidence was a lovely thing. "You should probably step out," he grunted, ever so slowly shifting himself to let his feet hang over the sides. It hurt like hell, but his wounds weren't going to kill him -- it was pain for the sake of pain. He wasn't going to let himself appear weak in front of a member of the opposite sex; that just wasn't how Rook worked. He needed to be impressive, because if he wasn't, then what did he have? A big gun, and a paper-thin personality. Being impressive sounded a whole lot better.

"I can get it myself, just uh...hold on a sec." With a bit of effort, he managed to set his feet on the floor. A quiet curse fell from his lips, but otherwise he managed. The promise of painkillers kept him going. He wasn't waiting for Qyren to leave either. If she hadn't already, poor lass, then she might want to be going now. The man was clad in a very loose hospital gown after all.

He made his way over to the bag sifted through his things to make sure nothing was missing, and would then slip on his pants. Unfortunately his breastplate was useless, as was the clothing he'd worn underneath it. In the end, Rook was clad in combat boots, cargo pants, and a hospital gown that fell to his knees.

Stylish.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

[SIZE=9pt]Qyren nodded her acceptance to his suggestion and was halfway out the door by the time he commented on the painkillers.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]"I'll wait out here," she assured him over her shoulder and slipped into the hallway, letting the door close softly behind her. She met the gaze of a passing nurse as she took up a place next to the door, half visitor and half guard as she observed the other people in the hallway.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]She would take him past Rindaren's shop first-- no. He would want that, but food first, then a rough pass through the necessary shops, then Rindaren's and then the discussion of accommodations since he wasn't going to leave right away. Qyren frowned faintly. Why stay? Even if he was waiting until nightfall to check in on his quarry's former haunt, he wouldn't need a room. Qyren's earlier suspicions only strengthened; he wasn't as ready to move as he claimed.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]He'll never make it in through the window. Absently, Qyren's hand rubbed against the soft fabric of her skirt. I wonder if they'll notice if I slip him in after they-- no. They might hear the door. Maybe. The window may be the only safe way. Alternatives ran through her mind in case neither her home nor Rindaren's worked out.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Through the door had come only the occasional grunt or muttered word from his room, and so Qyren knocked, assuming he had had enough time to dress.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]Cracking the door open enough to speak in without peeking, she inquired, "Do you need anything before we go?"[/SIZE]

 

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Rook did not have the thought to consider the things Qyren was thinking. He was having enough trouble trying to get his damned leg through the fabric. His clothing was designed for combat, but also for the purpose of moving lightly. Unfortunately that meant his pants were a bit tighter than he would have liked. He he remembered that fact, he might have had the motivation he needed not to be shot. Maybe.

Finally, success! He stood there for a moment, pleased to be somewhat clothed, until the pain came back. It was like he'd been shot in the chest a hundred times over. The soldier doubled over, hand scraping the walls for a handhold. He found none. Within seconds, Rook was sprawled out on the floor, though he did well to keep himself quiet. Now was not the time to draw the attentions of the doctors; even if they were well meaning.

"Up and at 'em." He mouthed, forcing himself back to his feet. He did not hesitate to pop the top off the pill bottle, and swallow three. Perhaps that was too much. Only time would tell. Fully clothed, and heavily medicated, the man who called himself Alexander made his way to the door. "Kiss for good luck." He snickered, good-natured sarcasm dripping from his words. "I'm alright. You have any clue as to what we need to do to avoid causing a problem?"

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

Qyren momentarily eyed Alexander as if his head had fallen off at his off-handed flirtation and following snicker. From one liner conversation the night before to casually throwing her off balance with over-exaggerated comments, Alexander was making it difficult to determine what his actual personality was. At least he seemed to have dropped the act where his actions were concerned; this was clearly not a sanctioned exit. A quick glance down at his hospital gown told her there was no way they were leaving like that, but she couldn't ask the nurses for aid either. A quiet, faintly exasperated sigh passed her lips before she could stop it.

Her eyes skimmed down the row of doors on the hallway. "Wait here."

Stepping across the way, she headed down to a half-open door and stuck her head inside; inside were two women, one of whom glanced her way. She smiled and inclined her head before retreating into the hallway. The next door down presented one occupant with no visible belongings. The third door heralded a neat stack of clothing on an empty bed; a shower was running in the bathroom. Qyren slipped into the room quietly, trying not to alert the patient on the other side of the closed curtain to her presence by thinking of herself as being as small as possible (not that such nonsense actually did anything, but perhaps it would help her monitor her own movements). With deft motions, she sorted through the stack and retrieved a basic tunic.

Not what he's used to, but he'll have to make do, she thought as she slipped out as quietly as she had entered.

Attempted murder, lying to the authorities, and now aiding an escaped patient and theft. If Qyren was prone to headaches, she would have one. Less than a full day and her life had been turned upside down by this strange human with his stranger mannerisms and story, and he wasn't even intending to leave yet.

Although she didn't agree with some of what they were doing, a small part of her found it all quite exciting. Her face smoothed into an unreadable expression as she fought back a mild case of irritation.

"Back inside," she ordered, turning Alexander back into the room with a hand on his shoulder and essentially forcing him ahead of her with constant motion. If he stopped, she'd likely knock him over, and she hoped he knew he couldn't afford that in the shape he was in.

Once the door was closed, Qyren turned back to him and crossed her arms, waiting. Bare-chested males were nothing new to her-- her suitors had made certain of that-- and she wanted a look at what sort of bandaging he had had done.

I may not be able to stop him from leaving the hospital too soon, but I can do what I can steer him to less active tasks if it's as bad as I assume it to be.

 

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Rook parted his lips to quip some form of off-handed comment, but then he was being shoved back into the room. He had no intention of stopping Qyren -- he rather liked standing up, thank you. When the door shut, he turned to face her, eyes falling to the tunic she carried. A bit archaic for his tastes, but it would have to do. It wasn't like he didn't already look out of place in this town. Perhaps he could make some fake head-tails using the cardboard Rindaren put in his windows? There was a thought.

He took the tunic with a grateful nod, and returned to the bed. Getting the article of clothing on was not going to be a pleasing activity. With a heavy sigh, he lifted the tunic high above his head. The bandaging around his midriff could be seen clearly now. It wrapped around his stomach four times, and irritated red flesh could be seen poking out from either side. The rest of Rook's torso wasn't exactly pretty, either. A large circular scar around his right arm where the limb had been removed and then reattached could be seen. Various markings, ranging from blaster wounds, to stab marks dotted his chest like little craters. The man had seen a bit of action.

He slipped on the tunic with a bit of effort. The act was painful given his condition, but with the help of the painkillers, it was at least tolerable. "It certainly smells like it's been in a hospital." He mused, pulling on the collar of the tunic with his thumb. "Very...clean."

Gathering himself, Rook rose to his feet. He moved a bit awkwardly; walking as if he were trying not to make a sound. In reality, the weaker the impact he made on the ground, the less his back flared up. He folded up his sidearm in the cloth it had come in, and stuffed it into his pocket. A bit of the cloth stuck out, but he did not look like he was carrying, at the least.

"You've got the lead, 'o great one. I am but a humble follower." He quipped. When not under fire -- sometimes even in those situations, Rook had quite the mouth on him. It was when people interrupted him that he started to stumble over his words.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

Don't be mad at him for your own choices, she gently chastised herself. With a small shake of her head, Qyren opened the door and gestured him into the hallway ahead of her. She closed the door behind them so that it would take longer for them to notice the empty room that way. She was glad he had left the destroyed breastplate behind; it would have been difficult to leave if he had been wearing it. He looked a bit odd with his mismatched outfit, but perhaps he would simply come across as eccentric; again, it would be easier to overlook him in this than it would have been in his lightly armored state.

His mocking declaration of submission was something she decided to take at face value; if she took the lead, they might make it out without having to disable anyone. She wasn't entirely sure that would be the case if Alexander took the lead.

"Stay quiet then," she countered, a smile ghosting across her face when she glanced up at him. They descended a short flight of steps to the main lobby area, and Qyren gently slipped her arm through his. In the corner of her eye, she saw another visitor turn to look after her; clearly, they weren't from around here either. Most of the locals knew her by sight if not by name. Only visitors stared.

"Don't make eye contact with anyone," Qyren suggested, only looking between him and the front door and using her peripheral vision for everything else. "If anyone tries to stop us, tell me you'll wait outside and let me distract them." She was certain he had ways of finding her afterward, if he needed to.

Thankfully, things went smoothly until they got just outside the doors. A hand suddenly took Qyren's arm and her surprise delayed her release of Alexander's arm for a moment. When Qyren turned, it was to utter a soft "oh" as she looked up at the unhappy face of her most understanding suitor.

"Good afternoon, Ashara'lynnic," she said in Ryl, using their shared language to ease any additional insult she might cause by trying to use Basic for Alexander's sake.

"Good afternoon." His gaze flicked to the man beyond her. "I had heard you were involved in the violence last night; I was told I could find you here and wanted to check in on you."

"Thank you for your thoughts." She smiled at him, genuinely grateful for his concern. "I am unharmed."

"This--"

"I'm afraid," she cut in, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on his arm, "That I have volunteered to help this visitor to our town for the day, but I intend to be at Kyyare'tenat's gathering tomorrow evening. Will you be there?"

Qyren watched some, but not all, of the tension drain from Ashara'lynnic's posture and her smile widened. The Twi'lek male took another look at Alexander as he nodded.

"I will be." The switch to Basic was a noticeable signal. Qyren kept her expression steady and ran her thumb over Ashara'lynnic's arm briefly before she pulled her hand away, a small gesture of thanks for his understanding, thought she didn't know if he would understand it as such.

"Good. Then I'll see you there. For now," she looked at Alexander and tilted her head, expression as docile as it ever was. "If you're ready, sir?"

 

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He didn't so much reply as he just nodded. Qyren knew how things worked here, he did not, thus leadership was given to her. It was the logical thing to do, after all. Her arm slipped through his. All part of the act. Problem was, Rook didn't know what their roles were.

His gaze travelled here and there as they made their way to the doors. It was only natural for an outsider to look curious, and he legitimately was wondering about the hospital's setup. It seemed similar to most medical facilities he'd spent time in -- his list was quite long, in fact. "What if someone makes eye contact with me? Should I break it? Offer them dinner? Take them out for a night on the town?" He glanced down to look right into Qyren's eyes. "Oh, making eye contact. Dinner at ten?"

He cracked an amused little grin, and then it was gone. Another Twi'lek had stolen Qyren's attentions; for good or ill, he did not know. He did as the woman asked: remained silent. He could make out a few choice words of the language the two spoke, but nothing that could discern what they were conversing about. Judging by the male's expression and tone, Rook was confident enough to put money on it being about him.

"Yes, madam. Lead the way, good lady." He replied, imitating the snobby, uptight accents the One Sith's military officials all seemed to share. He reached down to lace his arm through Qyren's and urged her on toward the door. Once they were out of hearing range, he whispered, "Angry boyfriend? Sorry for the trouble."

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

Qyren shook her head slightly, unwilling to speak so long as the Twi'lek male was in sight. There was no reason to potentially incur a prolonged encounter when they were trying to make a subtle escape. Besides, Qyren welcomed the break from her own personal concerns and happily pushed them away from her for a little longer.

Without including Alexander in the plan, Qyren led him down the busy streets surrounding the small hospital and into the hubub of the early morning downtown. She assumed that, if he were always looking for the cheapest everything, he had no compunctions about the types of meals he would be eating. A survivor, someone who was able to accept less than stellar accommodations for the sake of 'getting on with it'. When Alexander almost turned the next corner, Qyren tugged him forward. She knew where to take him that wouldn't be so crowded that he might feel the need to constantly look over his shoulder. "This way."

The establishment she led him to was sandwiched between two larger businesses; it looked to be little more than half the size of the buildings around it, its nondescript metal door and faded sign making it an easily overlooked, but Qyren's steps didn't hesitate. When they stepped inside, most of the tables were full-- all six of them. Incredible. Qyren steered Alexander to a small table off to the side, smiling her greetings to the locals who looked up at her.

"Do you care what I order for us? I can find you a menu," she offered.

 

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Rook wasn't used to being herded around like this. He'd always been the leader of his team: the decision maker. Where he wanted to go, they went. Whatever plan he drew up, they followed to a T. It was a bit odd having no idea what or where the Twi'lek was taking him, but he didn't mind much. Qyren knew the town, he didn't, and he was getting a kick out of the girl's reactions. He'd found pressing her with flirtatious requests and somewhat obnoxious compliments were the things that made her flustered. He had to make a conscious effort not to continue his antics as they walked into the diner.

Some people stared, but they all seemed pacified by Qyren's smiles. Rook surmised that she was one of the local sweetheart around here. In these smaller communities young women often ended up prized among the populace. It had nothing to do with culture or tradition. People just saw them as pure, and their male counterparts often saw them as potential wives. It would explain how easily she could set those nearby at ease.

He'd have to capitalize on it.

"Whatever you think's best, m'lady," the fake accent was bristling now, "Us soldier boys dunno how to make 'dem big important choices malaydah." He beamed at her as they set down on either side of the table "Honestly anything's good. I've got credits, I'll pay." He murmured, switching back to his usual voice.

"I suppose you're probably curious about some things. Who I am and such," he paused, "Or I'm just being arrogant."

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

A lift of her hand signaled the owner's wife behind the counter, and the other woman threaded her way over, in no hurry to get there. One of the nice qualities of the restaurant-- if you weren't one of those city people always in a rush-- was the relaxed atmosphere. The food came out quickly enough, of course, but everything else reflected the question "what's the hurry" in one form or another. Qyren ordered for them in Ryl, asking the owner to be sure the check came to her once they were done. The woman cast a knowing look at Alexander and agreed. Qyren wasn't about to take Alexander's credits for any reason, but that wasn't a discussion they needed to have yet. He might turn into a gentleman and insist on paying if she did that, and she would just as soon avoid that. He could pay for his own room and board if necessary, as well as what supplies he needed; Qyren and her family could manage to pay for a meal.

"You are not being arrogant. I don't know anything about you, but for what I've seen," Qyren replied while the owner's wife slipped their order through the window to the cooks. She was curious about him, of course, but she wanted to avoid crossing the line that would close off this convivial man and that meant stepping carefully. Some people were quite willing to talk about themselves and would claim it was all fine until it wasn't anymore. Any question that came to her mind seemed like a potential trap. She had seen the old scars in addition to his bandages when he changed earlier; he had been a soldier at some point, whether he was one now or not, or had been a bounty hunter for some time; either way, his body indicated he'd had a consistent run of near-death bad luck in his history. Those sorts of scars sometimes ran much deeper than marred skin.

She also had the option to tell him all she knew of him just from their brief time knowing one another. Tell him that he was the man who walked in the shadows to avoid being seen, who hunted down the dangerous men in the galaxy for their just punishment if only with flawed information, who bounced back from the brink of death much too quickly and only through sheer, senseless stubbornness and dangerous willful ignorance. He had no sense of self-preservation. He was complex, confusing and charming (when he put his mind to it), and also just the faintest bit frightening because he was someone who seemed to have no compunctions about killing another being and who had a darker face Qyren was sure she had yet to, and might never, see.

None of those understandings passed her lips.

Qyren dropped her gaze to the table. "You mentioned some of your reasons for being here." She let the silence that followed those words be what drew out Alexander's speech.

 

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Rook was never one for being callous. In his earlier days, he'd tried to be the brusque type. Silence and strength tended to get across a lot more than words ever could. Fortunately, as he saw it, it had not stuck. His understanding of basic had evolved in the many years since he left Lorrd, though he still found himself stumbling at times. Most of the time? He enjoyed speaking. Humor was his greatest tool. It helped him look past the darkness the galaxy presented. It opened doors that would have otherwise remained shut. It helped him retain his sanity; something that should have long since been lost to him given his history.

Humor was how he coped, and Qyren had no need for such things; at least not yet. She was a blank slate: pure. It wasn't right to drag her into the game he played, yet he felt the need to anyway.

"We'll call it a healthy dose of confidence then," he grinned, "Like I said earlier, hunting Rindaren. He had a big hand in the war that's currently destroying the galactic core. Had a good friend killed back on Kashyyyk too." Rook shook his head. Kix had not been shot by Rindaren directly, but one of the Twi'lek's agents had certainly done the job. The last remaining defenders of the Kachirho base were being assaulted by thousands of Vong soldiers. Ninety men against a legion, and they were winning too; until that bastard put a gun to Kix's head, killed him, and shut down their automated turret defenses.

Kashyyyk was supposed to be the turning point in the war. Instead, it resulted in the destruction of the united coalition to stop the Sith's crusade. Rindaren was the man who shot the Republic in the knee, indirectly or not. "I fought for the Republic up until three months ago. One of their star soldiers -- Dreadguard. Not too many of us still breathing these days," he chuckled, "We're force dead. They took people off the battlefield -- the dying soldiers. Republic droids rebuilt us with vong shaped parts."

He shrugged.

"I was one of the first. Kinda funny I'm one of the last ones to kick the bucket," he looked up from the table to meet Qyren's gaze, curiosity sparking in his dark blue eyes, "What about you, miss savior? What's your story?"

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

A healthy dose of confidence. A smile eased across her face at his comment, and she was able to look him in the eye again. The story that followed saw the loss of that smile, but Qyren stayed intent on Alexander. Soldier, then, and so much death around him. The war hadn't touched Aikhibba; it was distant to her. But from what he was telling her, how long was that likely to last? If Rindaren were one of the conspirators on the side that had engineered the battle, how long would it be before the aftershocks of the war reached them? Would they at all? Would it be dependent upon who won?

"I'm sorry," Qyren said quietly, genuine compassion coming through without the usual lacing of pity.

"My life will sound offensively plain after all you've been through." Her eyes studied his face; how old was he? Not old enough for all that he'd been through, and certainly not old enough to be surprised that he was still alive where so many others had fallen. She shrugged faintly and leaned back, resisting the urge to reach out a soothing hand. "I grew up here. This has always been my home, so I have had little excitement in my life. We deal with the usual threats of small colony towns and villages: raiders and slavers and sometimes a combination of both. Like many others, I know what it's like to be taken and dragged from those you love." She smiled. "I simply had the good fortune to be brought back before I was forced to experience what so many other Twi'lek children suffer through. It's..." As she searched for the right word, Qyren noticed their food being placed on the counter for delivery. "Peaceful here," she decided, "for the most part. Our worries are small compared to the concerns of the battlefield and the protection of the galaxy."

She looked up as their plates were set before them, thanking the waitress in Ryl before turning to start on her meal. Since the restaurant was used to catering to several types of species, Qyren had selected Alex's breakfast with the human recommendations in mind, but she had stuck with her usual hearty Twi'lek breakfast, a plate as full of roasted meat as it was local vegetation, and had ordered a side of gruuvan shaal to split.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't understand what you meant when you said you were 'Force dead'. And what is a Vong?" Perhaps it was her own ignorance that prevented her from understanding him. They weren't terms that had crossed her path before, and it made more sense to get clarification while she could than to wonder what he had meant.

[member="Rook"]

 

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Rook had been kidnapped once. It was over the skies of Dromund Kass during the Sith Empire's last push to survive. They'd failed, of course, but some had escaped. Rook was incapacitated aboard an Imperial dropship, and taken away by one of the more prominent Sith Lords. She'd played her games, asked her questions, tried to use him for thing he would not have expected beforehand -- eventually his team had freed him. The Sith woman? Dead. Kix shot her in the head. It was a relief to know she wasn't out there terrorizing the galaxy, of course there were plenty of others who had taken her place. He had a semblance of understanding for Qyren's past trials, though nothing so serious as being taken during childhood.

"I dunno if I could have recovered from that. I was a weak kid; mom and dad coddled me. Being torn away from them so young -- even if only temporary? Well, that might have caused some damage." he glance down at the food. Particularly the meat. How long had it been since he'd eaten anything other than ration cubes? Too long. "I guess some of us are a little stronger than other, huh?" He lofted a brow and grinned at Qyren, before turning his attentions to breakfast.

As far as he was concerned, he was paying. That meant he was going to have no reservation in devouring the food. He fell silent as he did just that scarfing down the lizard in particular as if he'd been wandering in a desert for weeks. Eating something that had even a simple taste like this was divine. He tried not to make a show of it; failing, of course. Some people looked at him, amused or disgusted by his morbid table manners.

His face flushed a faint shade of red.

"Uh...." He trailed off, picking quietly at the vegetables until their attentions left him. "...Vong, yes. You haven't heard of them? They destroyed half the galaxy a few hundred years ago, or so the historians say. I don't know the truth really," his gaze fell to a few of the leaves on his plate, "Truthfully? They're monsters. A culture built on self-mutilation, blood, and conquest. They live outside the force -- dead to it. Their religion states that they're too destroy technology -- they rely on organic tech to fight their wars."

The Vong did some other nasty things; worse in Rook's opinion. He recalled seeing a group of Togrutan girls shuttled away to one of the Vong Overlords' tents on Kashyyyk. A lot of bad things happened there. Travesties really, and Rook had done some of them himself. He could still recall the sharp scent of sulfur and burning flesh as they lined up Sith prisoners, Lords and Imperials alike, and put them down. They dumped the bodies in a great pit deep within the Shadowlands to keep the native beasts from attacking their camps. It was cruel, amoral, and Rook would do it again. It saved the lives of his people, and that was what mattered. He'd long since accepted that he was one of the bad men.

"Some of the Vong are civilized. They joined us, and their shapers created the Dreadguard : what I am. We were the terror of the galaxy back in the day. Now? We're scattered. Some of us are high value mercenaries. Others went off to start families. Most died in the war." He shrugged. "Unfortunately I could never pin down a wife. Force knows why; given my devilishly good looks," he snickered, "I kept doing my job. Now I just...follow my own agenda. I'm not alone though. My old combat AI, Stanley, you might meet him, he's usually with me."

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

By the time Alexander had finished his meal, Qyren was only half-finished with her own. Early on, she had made sure to secure two of the gruuvan shaal for herself, as the rest promptly went into her table companion. An amused half-smile seemed permanently fused on to her lips, even as she was eating. She would bet a thousand credits he hadn't seen a well-cooked meal in months, maybe longer. His single-minded devotion to his meal allowed them the chance to fall into silence, though, for which she was grateful. Too much talking could be exhausting.

His flushed face alerted her to his awareness of the gawkers staring at him, and Qyren made a point of glancing at the room, though she didn't directly make eye contact with anyone. For some, that was enough for them to return to their own meals, and that was all she could do for him in this case. He seemed to settle down once the food in front of him was gone, and Qyren relaxed her guard somewhat. Alexander's longer tale involving the explanation of the Vong and his isolated life were heavy topics during which Qyren steadily worked through her breakfast. She wasn't ashamed of her ignorance where the Vong and universe at large were concerned; history wasn't her area of interest in school for the most part.

She finished stripping the food from the last skewer and set it aside, her expression contemplative.

Follows his own agenda. Qyren finished chewing, checked Alexander's clean plate, and promptly finished what little was left on her own. She adjusted her view of him slightly; it could still be true that he was delivering just punishment, but it was outside of any system of laws. It was a punishment of his choice in a system of his own making. A rogue soldier hunting down those who had wronged him. It was vengeance, rather than justice, likely from anyone's perspective but his own.

As she turned that idea over in her mind, she pushed her plate aside, a clear signal that their meal was over. She nodded when the owner's wife caught her eye inquisitively, and the woman threaded over to place the check firmly in Qyren's hand. Then, most unwelcome to Qyren, the woman smirked as she glanced over Alex again and gave him an outrageous wink before she lifted their dirty dishes and departed. Qyren felt heat flare into her cheeks again and just did her best to focus on getting the right amount of credits out.

 

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What was that?

The lady couldn't have thought what Rook thought she...thought. Redundancy was a terrifying thing. Yet, she very likely had. He would have let the assumption go -- it was an honest one to make, had Qyren's face not lit up a Lifeday tree. He said nothing as he stared at her, lips pressed in a mischievous little grin. It seemed Rook had a plan, and one Qyren probably wasn't going to like.

"Thank you for breakfast darling. You really are the best a man could ask for." He stated loud and proud as she counted out the credits. Some of the locals might have paid him mind, and they might not have. He was too into his own act to pay much attention. "Why, this might be the perfect place to bring the kids. Y'know, in the future of course." He would do the courtesy of waiting until the credits were paid out before standing up, lacing an arm through Qyren's, and quite likely dragging the poor girl out of the diner.

He liked her. She was easy to pick on, and was far too kind for her own good. He had not forgotten that he was supposed to be the one paying for the food, not her. She'd have to pay for that later. Somehow. "The lady seemed nice." He mused as if everything was just peachy.

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

[member="Rook"]

Qyren was appalled at Alexander's sudden and loud declaration of their relationship and simply stared at the credits in her palm, frozen. The owner's wife wasn't likely to believe it, but the younger Twi'lek only hoped no one else took any stock in his words. She had just gotten through assuring Ashara'lynnic that this was nothing; to be called a liar afterward would be a nightmare. Mother-- That would be another issue entirely, if a rumor ever got back to her of this date occurring.

It is not a date! Her inner voice was half-panicked and half-angry. Silenced by her own self-conscious mortification, Qyren finished paying without saying a word, but managed to avoid looking as if she were being dragged off by a complete stranger when Alexander took her arm and led her from the restaurant. Once they had reached the street, she extracted her arm from his, though it took a moment of doing. She stopped no further than the corner of the block, giving him a hard stare that clearly, if not vocally, displayed her irritation and unhappiness with his acting.

"What are you doing?" she countered, not buying his innocence in the slightest. Qyren was sure she could explain it to her parents if the topic ever arose, but it would inevitably lead back to a conversation of her prospects that she didn't want to have. Alexander seemed to have changed his strategy at some point, determined to get noticed as much as humanly possible, rather than trying to keep a low profile. Rindaren was gone, but that didn't mean he should make his face known to the locals, if someone came looking for him. If he simply thought that act was funny, it wasn't, and Qyren knew he wasn't serious about it. "If you want to finish gathering the information you need at his shop, you shouldn't be drawing attention to yourself. The last thing we need--" She stopped herself and shook her head at him instead.

The last thing we need is one of my less polite suitors showing up to make a point of confronting you. Competing males were so... unattractive. And time consuming. Alexander was also in no shape for a show down if he, as Qyren was beginning to worry he would, decided to instigate a fight through thinly-veiled humorous insults. Internally, Qyren groaned at the very thought. The sooner she helped him with what he needed and saw him on his way, the better.

 

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Rook's mind froze. What was he doing? Acting a fool; a boy trying to garner the attentions of a young woman. He'd mistaken his position: gotten too pulled into the persona he'd adopted when he'd awoken at the hospital bed. He was here to find Rindaren. He was here to kill Rindaren, and then he was going to kill Rindaren's son, and then his son's wife. They were all members of the Cabal, all instigators of the war. He was not here to socialize, certainly not to woo Qyren. Somewhere along the way he'd forgotten that.

"Sorry," he answered honestly, "Lost touch there for a minute. We should get to his shop before the trail goes cold." With that said, he reached into his bundle of things, and retrieved his headset. He set it in place and flicked the switch. For a moment there was silence, then a shrill buzzing, and finally --

"Where have you been?" Stanley demanded, his voice loud enough so that Qyren could hear. "Caught up with the locals. We've had a setback, Rindaren's not in town anymore." A moment of silence. "I know that. He's got a buddy in the capitol. That's where we're headed once you're green. Find anything from his shop?" Rook shook his head as if the AI could see him. "Not yet. I'm on my way there right now. Gotta go silent Stanley."

"Gotcha."

The link went dead. Rook breathed a heavy sigh. It seemed he was going to be on this planet a bit longer than he'd thought, not that it was a bad thing. He certainly didn't dislike the place -- apart from being shot with a disruptor anyway. "I can wire you some credits for your trouble." he added shortly, meeting Qyren's gaze. "Least I can do."

[member="Qyren Leret"]