Private Unforeseen Consequences

[Amea Virou]

So far today seemed unlike most other days from the last few weeks. The air felt easier to breathe than usual and carried a sweet aroma to it that Amea wouldn’t have expected from a spaceport. There were people going about their business and so far none of them had made it their business to get into Amea’s. In her pockets was one journey’s worth of a paycheck, around her shoulder hung a small shoulder bag that contained just about everything that she owned. Given the rate at which Amea went through her wardrobe, well, needless to say she traveled light.

As she stepped up to one of the landing pads she couldn’t help but stop and stare. A strange fighter unlike anything she had seen before stood there. She wasn’t exactly an expert on starfighter makes, but this one still struck her as an odd one. Glancing around the area she couldn’t help but step in once the area proved to be clear. Amea circled the pad, and yet as she was about to leave the area she heard the sound of an astromech making its way over.

Her eyes went wide as she slowly turned around to look at it, and… Yet again. It was a peculiar design. Very utilitarian yet sleek and stylish. Showed some wear and tear here and there, but nothing that was unfixable. Had internals that many an astromech would have died for, too.

“Hey there, little buddy.” Amea smiled and gently touched against the droid’s top. “Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to see the ship before I left.”

And in reality to poke at the droid so that she could dive into it. Artificial Intelligence? A vast library of topics and records of flights. An adaptable personality matrix? Amea’s brow rose for a second as she slowly stood on her feet to shuffle the bag on her shoulder.

“I should probably go…” She said and turned around only to come face to face with a blonde woman. “Oh! Hey, I was— your droid and your ship. Interesting designs, but— well, it’s—”

Oh crap, here came the nerves.

“They’re very cool. Where did you get them?”

Why was she looking at her like that? Was it something Amea said? It was probably something that Amea said, wasn’t it?

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Frank never forgot a face: He couldn't with the recognition technology baked into his photoreceptors. Well, that was partly untrue. If his bandwidth was running a little slow, he could choose to scroll through his archives and delete some faces that were perceivably unimportant. Random shopkeepers, alien species that were indistinguishable from one knotted cheekbone to the next.

He didn't need to refer to his catalogued collection of cheekbones and forehead arches to distinguish some faces, though. His mistress kept a lot of company, and everyone there had depths and nuances he was accustomed to. Recognition was always near instantaneous -- even if someone did certain work to trick the eye of mortal eyes. Frank saw right through deceptive techniques; unless there was some sort of technology at employ that clouded the reality of a person, completely manipulating the known to something more foreign. Amea Virou didn't employ such deceptive methods. Hair dye, and some mottling of her freckles seemed to do the trick.

Once again, he'd been given the duty of staying with The Ship while Loske tottered off to find a replacement laser tip for her right cannon. The last one had overheated from a held charge and almost melted in on itself. She'd tried to clean it, but it needed some more work done.

He was just circling it almost aimlessly when Amea came into view, and he quivered with excitement in muted salutations. He hadn't seen her since Tatooine! And like a long-lost parent, Frank's appreciation for his creator was never mitigated. Her touch was familiar, and whether or not he had a choice, he readily responded with whatever she was looking for.

If he could have looked alarmed, he would have. Instead, he bleeped somewhat sadly before an automated sounded voice was made audible; Don't go! Where are you going? We can give you a ride.

Poor Frank didn't know how kidnappy that sounded.

Meanwhile, Loske was approaching with the part she'd sought after in her hands. Frank hoped maybe she could explain Amea's peculiar behaviour. Maybe it was a girl thing - certainly hadn't seen it exhibited from any other organics.

Like Frank, Loske instantly recognized her friend. No matter how disorienting it might be to see her swap from a blonde freckled woman to a brunette, tanned and toned one. "Ah!" Her face lit up, obviously delighted, and quickened her pace to greet the girl. Amea asked her a question about the droid and ship's origin and she stopped in her tracks, cocking her head to the side quizzically.

What a weird thing to ask, and it be the first thing she say. Also, was she nervous? Why was she so nervous? She shook her head with a laugh, stepping in to her friend to loop her arms around her in salutations; the part still in her grip, though.

"Whatt? You goof. Weird way to say hello."

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

Give a ride? Amea turned on instinct towards the talking droid, her surprise evident before she turned back towards Loske who seemed to try and wrap her arms around her. Amea ducked out, raised her hands as if to signal that she really did not wish to fight them, but she would if she had to. Her eyes darted between the droid and its owner as she slowly backed away.

“No, no that was a perfectly good way to—” Amea began and continued to back away. “I don’t want to fight you guys. This day has been perfectly fine so far.”

Her fingers curled with tension before they released again to let it go.

“My curiosity got the better of me. I apologize for that.” Quick talking, take away the tension and possibility of having to fight. “Look, I don’t know what kind of culture you come from but where I am from you don’t just… Hug people you don’t know.”

Wherever it was that she came from. Amea seemed genuinely distressed for the moment.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

W O A H, no HUG?!

If offended had a face, Loske was wearing it. She snapped her arms back to herself, as if a snake had just popped out of the ground and was hissing at her. Instead of a snake, it was her friend. And instead of spitting venom, she was sputtering out flustered diffusion tactics.

Frank and the Jedi Padawan exchanged a look with one another in response to Amea Virou 's behaviour. Her brows knotted, completely perplexed by the brunette's out-of-mind actions.

"What are you talking about? Of course I know you." She asked with a laugh at first, then turned more serious with hands on her hips. "Is this an act?"

A little embarrassed, Loske looked over her right shoulder, then the left to make sure there was nobody behind them that they also knew. Like some grand entrance that Micah was about to make or something - putting his sister up to an excellently performed charade.

When she looked back, Amea still looked really tense. Her whole body tightened as if she was going to punch the blonde out for saying the wrong thing. Meanwhile, Frank encircled the legs of Amea; running a scan to confirm that they definitely did know this girl.

She was brunette right now. In a space port. Loske at least new as much to address this persona by the right name: "Amea, what's..what's gotten into you? Hugging is like..my thing. You know this."

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

Those brown eyes jittered with utter confusion. Blondie insisted she knew Amea, which would be sort of hard for her to do given that even Amea hardly knew herself. Although her hands lowered she was still clearly at a discomfort. The hurt seemed genuine, almost as if this other woman had expected something else.

“Wha- no?” Amea’s breathing got more difficult as for the first time in a long while fight or flight began to veer in the direction of flight. “Not an act. I— Look, this is probably just some big misunderstanding.”

“Nothing has gotten into me.” She said and kept her hands out by her waist, palms facing Loske with a slight shiver. “I… Don’t remember you, at—”

Remember.

The word spread across her mind like a wildfire. She tried to remember when she could have met this woman but everything just came up blank. She had only met so many people in the recent months. Most of them were trying to take her down, and she had in turn ended them. She weren’t with Jerec, or Cei, or even Kelsie. She was most certainly not part of the gang that—

Amea grew distant as she stared down at the ground with a horrified expression.

“Who are you?” She asked rather calmly given the circumstances as she turned back towards Loske and took a step back towards the blonde. “When did we last meet? Where? Why? What was I doing?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Broken hearted, it was obvious Amea Virou was experiencing something very distressing. This was not an act. This was pure pain and honest reactions to a stranger that was being way too friendly. Of course the brunette didn't trust her if she didn't know her.

Frank rolled to stand beside Loske, as if putting the two of them together would help complete the picture. There didn't seem to be any reaction, and he made a droid-like whimper.

Her face felt heavy with the realization that the friend, her best friend, might have been gone. Truly gone. This must have been how Kaili had felt when Allyson had returned without any recollection of who she was. Kaili'd tried to work through it with her, just as Loske would do now.

Her timid approach made Loske feel like a wild animal, and Amea a tentative zookeeper. It was unnerving and she didn't like it. Even strangers approached her with greater eagerness -- this was thick with apprehension. She put out a hand between them, keeping it extended to either shake or just..to feel a little closer to her former companion. If Amea wanted to take it, she could.

"My name is Loske. This is Frank. You made him." She rested her free hand on the dome of the astromech by her side. Their last meeting had been an intimate one. If the young woman across from her truly didn't have any memory, it would be like speaking a foreign language. The details of the shared memories nothing but lies. She inhaled slowly, before sorting through what to tell her without totally overwhelming her. "We were on Onderon, you sang Karaoke -- and you were, ehh okay at it. We met because you had...a lot you needed to get off your chest, so you called me to listen and help you through it."

She searched Amea's expression desperately to see any sort of lightbulb of recollection. Please, please, please don't be all gone.

"Do you want me to show you? I can show you."

 

[Amea Virou]

A hand was extended and Amea grabbed it for a cautious shake.

A pained scream echoes in a cold apartment as she struggles to break free from the men that holds her by the arms. A cold metal cap gets put to the back of her head, and in an instant the world goes dark. She comes to in a small sea of dead bodies. The once cold apartment now warm with the copper-like taste of blood against the roof of her mouth. From the kitchen comes a man who extends his hand towards her in seeming shock and amazement.

He is covered in blood too, his name is Jerec. She knows this, but she can’t for the life of her remember why she was even here. With his help she is put back on her feet, her arm wrapped around his shoulder as they stagger out of the apartment to leave the scene of the crime behind.

The scene twists and bends to somewhere else. She gets her wounds tended to as the man explains what has just happened. Her arm twitches as he gets the wound covered in a thin layer of bacta while explaining what they had been doing. Cult of depraved basement dwellers, human trafficking and the installation of real human minds of both men and women alike into ‘coersed’ droids.

She had been strapped up with the machine they used for it, yet for some reason it broke down right before completion. Either a miracle or something Amea herself had done, but the memories were… Gone. He was sorry, she was sorry. A burning rage ignites in her eyes, her muscles tensing up before the pain pushes her back into her chair again.

The flash of a man cowering, pushing himself away from her on the floor. She raises her knife…

And the flash ends.

Amea let the woman’s hand go as she gave them both a look. Loske and Frank, the latter of which Amea had apparently built? Amea blinked at the droid and then looked back at Loske. Karaoke, things to get off the chest. It all ran hollow to her,

“I’m so sorry, I don’t— I can’t remember this, Loske.” Amea frowned. “Not sure the video will do much, but sure?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

A gasp was stifled for the benefit of Amea's trust. If Loske gave a clue to what she'd seen, she was afraid the timid bridge that had been built between herself and this Amea would be shattered. Her mouth gaped open and clicked shut within three seconds - the vision that the touch extended didn't supersede that amount of time. Hot tears stung at Loske's tear ducts, threatening to flood. Her lip quivered at the painful realization, and she quickly swept the back of her hand against her eyes to wipe any of the salty residue that would have betrayed her intimate sight through touch. It felt like her ribs were clenched, tightening against her will at the realization that any memory that her friend might have had of her, of her past life, was gone.

Was it for the best?

The last time Loske and Kaili had met, the Talith had been in great pain -- seeking salvation. Amea Virou had been created as an escape.

Even the way Amea Virou said Loske it felt forced. Fake. The level of care and personality that was usually delivered when you said a friend's name was gone.

Loske sniffled, and dropped to her knee, pretending to clumsily fumble around Frank's port where someone would insert a data card. "Heh, yeah." She stalled, while sorting through her options. Before the vision, she'd thought to Flow Walk her friend back to the boat on Onderon, but realized that would only cause more confusion. She'd appeared to Loske as Kaili then. If this woman lost her memories as Amea, that meant Kaili was gone. Tracing her back to a memory that was shared with Kaili would only be more confusing.

With her back to the brunette explorer, she rubbed the back of her arm against her nose to capture any embarrassing leaks that happened while a few tears slipped through. Both hands braced the dome of Frank while she weighed the moral choices of what to do.

Did she selfishly want her friend? Or did she want her friend to have peace?

For the briefest of instances, she rested her forehead against Frank's triangular eye -- and he seemed to calmly accept it. Understanding the situation while the girl tried to decide what to do.

Finally, Loske turned around after a final sniff and making her decision.

"I have this neat trick." She announced, and held out her hand.

She wanted her friend back, but she wanted her friend in Amea back. Without the pain. "It's not a video, but I need you to hold my hand and...try to open yourself up to The Force I know you have." It would be the vision back to Wayland; at least sharing some proximity so she didn't think Loske was trying to pull a fast one on her. They did know each other.

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

It was pretty clear that she was holding off emotions. In reality it made Amea feel like a villain, standing over the crying woman who had held such high hopes for this. But expectations had been crushed, and it was clear that in this moment Amea was not the woman that Loske had hoped she was.

As the hand was extended her guilt got the better of her and Amea allowed herself to place her hand in Loske’s palm, extending the part of herself that she could in order for the blonde to do what she needed to do.

The world darkened yet was quickly replaced by a thick jungle. Sounds of a ship’s engine growing silent. Down from its ramp stepped two people, a blonde and a brunette who seemed to share some sort of conversation between one another. One of them was clearly Loske, and the other one was…

Amea. With longer hair.

“Uhm, hello? This is Stacey, and I am like totally lost right now—”

Amea cringed up at the sound of her own faked voice. Stacey was a product of necessity, a way to throw people she did not want to follow her off her trail for a bit. Ironically enough mostly men and bird people, but hey, it had worked. What Amea did not expect was to be reminded that she once spoke with the Imperial accent. A fancy at the time, from what she could recall, but…

They continued to talk and banter, Amea made jokes. Then they met up with someone else and the vision ended.

“That was you.” Amea said as she blinked awake, taken aback by the fact that she was now back in the present again. “I don’t remember what happened that day, but I know that I was there. I left someone behind, and…”

Her head began to spin. Amea put her head against her forehead as she began to stumble back.

“But I don’t—” She struggled for words. “The memory isn’t—”

The panic was real again.

“That was me. That was very clearly me, but the—”

“I—” Amea let out a shaky breath. “I am so sorry. I wish I could remember, but—”

“I never chose this. This was forced upon me, I am so sorry.”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"I know." Loske answered solemnly, reaching out to offer steadying support for the disoriented Amea Virou . She knew it had been taken from her, completely against her will. It would be weird if she said anything about that, though. It would put a barrier of distrust between them that, frankly, the kiffar did not want.

"I didn't do that to make you feel bad. I uh, it was selfish. I'm sorry. In my heart and my memories, we're friends. I thought maybe that could help but uh, looks like no.

But hey, on the brightside, your hair is a lot better now." Though her face felt heavy, she feigned a weak smile through her mirthless exterior.

She stole a glance down to her feet, then back up. "You have some time to spare? Want to get a drink? We can swap stories, and without you having any previous ties to me, maybe you can be a true judge on how truly good or bad my jokes are."

There had to be other ways to jog the memories. Maybe playing that song she'd sung at karaoke....no. No Loske! Don't do it!

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

“It’s alright, I am just… Shaken.” Amea spoke with a shiver, her lips twitching in a smile at the compliment. “Yeah, right? Wh- what was I thinking? Long hair, and ponytails? Death traps.”

Humor alleviated the stress and Amea needed all the calm she could find. She pushed off the crates and rubbed at her forehead with the palm of her hand, wiping away the sweat from her brows.

“I have time,” She said and yet again felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips. “I have nothing but time.”

“And I’d love a drink right now, or several.” She laughed and began to nod. “If anything to, uh… Catch up.”

“Do you have any… Any recommendations where to go?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

With a head full of golden death traps, Loske unconsciously touched the ends of her own hair at the commentary, realizing how compromising it could indeed be. Thankfully, nobody had grabbed at it yet in an attempt to scalp her and she did spend most of her time in a cockpit with a helmet on...so that made her feel better. She chuckled.

Relief suffused it's way into Loske's body language, and she gave a happy smile when Amea Virou accepted her invitation.

"I don't know this planet very well," Loske admitted, moving to place the part she'd just purchased near the foot of her ship for Frank to deal with. "But I'm sure there's something nearby where we can get something..we're by a space port after all. You know what spacers are like." The time she took to titter at her own joke gave Frank the opening to pull up a list of ratings.

There's a Cantina that's been here for over fifty galactic years. It has a wide range of import options that are off menu. Top rated, just outside the port and to the left. It's called The Left Fire.

The kiffar shrugged and gestured, being the first to step down from the platform. Frank knew the drill: Watch the ship.

"So what're you doing here? Between missions or something?"

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

A heavy dose of pressure was applied to the side of Amea’s heads as her palms pressed against her temples to still the dizziness. The hole in her mind had never felt more apparent than it did in this very moment, and in truth she didn’t know how to act. Amea had most certainly expected it to happen at some point, but it had been hard to predict how she would react.

It would seem panic was her choice.

A pained grunt parted her lips as she walked along with Loske. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“My head’s burning up.” She groaned and let her hands drop by her sides. “Been delivering a few messages, packages, that sort of thing.” Loske had seen the delivery, though Amea was not aware. “Trying to track down a friend.”

And kill them. Violently.

“My friend Jerec has been a good host and employer. Took me to the Firefist galaxy, took me back, introduced me to some people that have need for crew every now and then. I’ve been pretty set on the work front,” Amea grinned through the pain. “What about you?”

“What do you do?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Sorry, my projection probably didn't help the headache." She bit her lip bashfully, and tossed in a wince and a shrug combo.

There was something..not quite ironic, but funny, about Amea Virou asking what Loske did. The last time she'd seen Kaili, the youngest Talith had advised Loske to be careful about becoming a Jedi. And here she was, still a Padawan and more involved with The Jedi Order than she'd ever thought she'd be. Though, to be fair, it was pretty action packed these days so she wasn't spending a lot of time in the theories and titles -- both things she and Kaili had been wary of.

It was weird breaking it down to a profession.

"I'm a Starfighter pilot," Loske answered. "My squadron is a bridge between The Jedi Order and The Galactic Alliance. So, I kinda..I fly around and shoot bad guys out of the skies. Once in a while I even get to use my lightsaber." She chuckled, but it melted away when she reflected on the last time she'd revealed her golden blade. It was against one of the monsters of the Bryn. A massive, shark-headed creature that was too foul for this universe.

"What's the Firefist galaxy? I haven't heard of it." She cocked her head curiously, navigating through the people milling about in their path. It wasn't busy per say, but enough people who were immersed in their own routes that they weren't deviating to avoid bumping into one another.

As promised, their walk wasn't long. Loske was glancing between her friend and the storefronts when she saw the promised sign of The Left Fire. It was a narrow cantina, that was far from ornate, but surprisingly clean. There was no door to open, so the pair could just walk inside.

 

[Amea Virou]

Jedi Order. Galactic Alliance. Amea’s lips thinned out into a contemplative frown as she looked at Loske again. In part because of the fading headache, in another because she had never really thought about what she expected a Jedi to look like. Older, less attractive, and most definitely dressed in robes. Perhaps went to show what Amea knew, but… Then again, not really.

“A satellite galaxy. There are some fringe colonies there but nothing big.” Amea said and took a seat in the first booth she could find. “My stomach couldn’t handle the food. I lived on carbohydrate packs and protein paste for almost a month.”

With the server droid approaching them Amea raised her hand to order, “A plate of shots, whatever you have that is the most effective and cheap.” The droid chirped in affirmation. “And a glass of water, preferably clean.”

With that she looked over at Loske.

“Jedi, and a pilot.” She said to repeat what Loske had said. “I… Think I get the second one, but the first one I had not expected.” Amea said and rubbed at the side of her head again. “Do I… Have a lot of Jedi friends, or…”

“Oh god, I’m—” She cleared her throat. “I’m not actually a jedi, am I?”

“I’ve… Definitely not acted like a Jedi.”

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske's stomach flip-flopped empathetically to the poor diet Amea Virou sustained on the fringes of space. That was the trade - a wealth of experience and sights for a poor menu.

Adjusting her seat to get comfortable and tuck one leg under her thigh, she raised her brows at the spacer's order. Were all those shots for her? Just in case, Loske ordered something fizzy that she could slurp on while she watched the brunette do copious amounts of shots. She also signalled for a glass of water, taking careful note to make the distinction of clean versus not clean in the order. Would they have given them something gross without that specification? Or did simply ordering it that way give the kitchen staff pause that perhaps their patrons were distinguished enough to notice the difference?

"I get that a lot." Loske offered with a small laugh. It was intentional, she tried not to be too traditional with her appearance and interactions. That's how The Jedi had fallen before, being too insulated in their traditions that they lost sight of the reality of the galaxy.

She wanted to smirk at her friend sorting through the statement, and questioning whether or not she was a Jedi, but at this point it was just sad. Still, despite herself, she let out a meager simper. "No, don't worry. You have The Force and stuff... actually, it's kind of funny.

Last time I saw you, you told me to be careful about becoming a Jedi and the dangers involved. Ironic that so far, I'm coming out of that a little ahead of you." Ahead was a pathetic pun, so she knocked against her temple for extra emphasis and a wink.

"But you do have a few friends that are Jedi. Or, you did..." Allyson. "I'm sure you'll bump into them one day. For such a big place, the galaxy sure can be small."

She leaned back in the booth and spread out her arms cheerfully. "Like this!"

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

The pun went right over Amea’s head as she continued to look at Loske. The server came up with a glass of whiskey and water, as well as Loske’s drink and Amea gave the golden-brown liquid in her glass a lingering stare. It wasn’t a plate of shots, but perhaps it was their way of saying that this was more effective. Amea downed the water in a sweep and looked back down at her companion.

“Do I want that, though?” She shook her head and raised her shoulders in an indecisive shrug. “What if I lost more than just my memories because of this? A life, yes, but what about innocence? What about… I don’t know. Love? Family? Things of substance, the stuff that gives someone value.”

Amea thought about it for a second before she leaned back against the table and grabbed her drink.

“The jobs I run, the credits I pocket…” Amea began before she raised the glass to her lips. “The person that I am now…”

She took a sizable sip from the drink before she put it down and swallowed with a grimace.

“I uh,” She said and leaned back in her seat. “I have a story built for myself. Nothing solid, but something that can place me anywhere out here. On one hand it is a blessing, on the other hand it’s not. I can be anyone and go anywhere. Yet, I have no idea what I am doing or why. Nothing that really gives me any form of meaning to anyone.”

“I want to ask about who I was, but…” Amea frowned. “I am not sure I want to know.”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Bubbles rose from the bottom of the glass to the top in steady streams that transfixed the Jedi Padawan for a few seconds. Mostly because it was something to look at other than the perplexed face of the woman across the table.

"Don't ask. What you need to know will find a way to you." She offered, clenching her teeth on the straw and schlucking some of the whatever-it-was back and up.

"Or, ask when you're ready. If you're ready. You've got a cool thing going for you. No strings attached, a new life. Not everyone gets that." She shrugged, and propped her elbow up on the table. Cheek rested in palm and she swirled her glass around with her free hand. The contents rose and fell, and the bubbles continued to fizz about wildly. Seemed second chances were becoming a thing, lately. Two of the people closest to her had the opportunity to become who they wanted to be, not who they were supposed to be. One by coma, one by...weird robot hat.

"I guess I kinda had it like that once." Loske divulged, now locking both hands like a hammock beneath her chin and both elbows propped on the table. She looked up at the ceiling, finding the memories among the rafters.

"I thought I didn't have a family, or anything...I made my own purpose and friends.." Not totally true. Her purpose had always been to fight, she made her way to The Alliance and signed up from there. She was going to admit that she had spent a portion of her innocence mildly jealous of the family Kaili had, but decided not to traipse into that territory. "Finding out where I came from, who I was supposed to be was kind of weird. Style crimping, almost. Like all the pride and empowerment I'd got from making every decision up to that single point in time--" she was pointing with her finger now, right at Amea Virou for effect "--weren't choices of my own. Like predestination or something."

The kiffar leaned forward enough to trap the straw in her mouth again, and take a sip. It went straight to her head, as usual. Poor metabolism for a fighting machine.

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

Amea exhaled through her nose with no small sense of amusement. “Yeah.” She said and looked up at Loske again. “I think about it a lot, but the answer is always the same: I don’t need to know. My actions are my own. I act because of who I am, not who I was.”

Her head shook. “I can’t miss what I never knew that I have, or regret what I never knew happened.”

“In a weird kind of way,” Amea exhaled yet again with a small laugh. “I really enjoy this life. I can do some real good without ever having to worry about how it affects anyone other than myself.” Her hands grasped at the whiskey glass. “It’s selfish, I know, but…”

She took another sip.

“I really enjoy the thrill.”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"I think you can afford a little selfishness." The blonde offered, twirling her straw around the drink. There was something so overtly cavalier about ordering a whiskey and being able to down it without a wince. She was a little jealous, but her biochemistry would never allow it. One of the weaknesses that had been overlooked -- her tolerance for vice-based substances was incredibly low. Which made her a cheap date.

"I'm jealous you can drink that stuff. It looks very suave."

She broke her stare from the amber liquid in Amea Virou 's glass and looked back up at the eyes of the smuggler. It was strange, to look into those familiar caf-coloured irises and not see familiarity and friendliness looking back. It's not that Amea was unfriendly, but she wasn't her best friend.

"I'm a little bummed this place doesn't have karaoke." The straw tinked against the edges of the glass and she pulled her hands back. "Excuse me, just a sec, gotta use the washroom."

Loske lifted from the seat and disappeared somewhere in the back - looking around for the lavatory and the source of the background music in the bar. There was a jukebox, of all things, that let the customers select a series of songs. Desperately, the kiffar flipped through the available choices until finding serious relief that one she was looking for was listed amidst the other classics.

She deposited enough credits for seventeen rounds of the song, and returned back to the table.

"So you kinda sound like you're all work all the time. What are you doing for fun?"