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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on May 28, 2015 20:54:36 GMT -5
Socorro wasn't Tatooine. Not quite. They were both hotter than a Tusken's taint, full of dust, and had no government worth description. However Socorro was essentially Tatooine, with standards. There weren't any random Jawas stealing commlinks, less blatantly obvious slaves wandering about, and the bars were nicer.
This particular one, the Retching Rancor, had a great view through some slatted windows of blackened desert plateaus silhouetted against a sinking red sun that took up what seemed like half the sky. Mercifully it meant the heat was declining. If it hadn't been cooling, Ervisa Therani might have literally turned into a green puddle.
"Frell," the sweaty pilot muttered as she rubbed the icy glass on her forehead. The condensation stayed behind, mingling with the sweat. But it was still a bit cooler. The Mirialan took a sip of the gin and tonic it contained, and she glanced over at the holonet screen over the bar.
It was some kind of sporting event. Whatever it was looked exhausting, for the fans. Crowds were jumping about in frantic manner. All the green-skinned woman could do was shake her head, looking back down at the drink and questioning why exactly she'd not opted for a longer contract.
Her license was in order, her papers all set nicely, but it'd just had to run short of work on the hottest planet she'd ever seen. Mirialans and heat were a dubious prospect at times, and Ervisa groaned.
"Frell, it's hotter than balls here, how do you stand it?"
The human bartender just shrugged. Silently.
Ervisa's lips pursed together in a slightly annoyed manner, the guy could've answered. Least he could do for a fellow mixologist off-duty.
"Strong and silent type eh?" She inquired.
The bartender shrugged again.
The lips pursed harder.
"You talk? Or did you lose your tongue in a freak boating accident?"
The bartender just shrugged.
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on May 28, 2015 21:41:58 GMT -5
"Ugh......dammit." Bax muttered in disgust at the piss poor game on the screen above the bar. Nunaball wasn't taken seriously by the majority of the galaxy, but that didn't a thriving gambling community to pop up from it. Not that that was too surprising in of itself. On a planet like this the junker imagined people would place wagers on how fast a drop a sweat could cruise down to an ass crack. Sentients could always find something to gamble on. However, Bax for one needed to stop the way his luck had been going. Recently nailing two 10/10's notwithstanding.
It was actually completely bad lucks' fault that he was on Socorro in the first place. Bad luck and poor decisions. Definitely the title of Bax's memoir if he ever got around to writing it.
As soon as the game's final whistle blew the junker silently got up and left the crowded table he'd been parked at. It was bad enough to lose a thousand credits to some backwater hayseeds, but seeing them gloat would've made things all the worse. They didn't even have the decently to try and kill him for the rest he had in his pockets. If this was Nar Shadda he would've worked off some steam and pulled his credits from their cold, dead hands by now. Socorro seriously had no redeeming qualities to him.
However, Bax started to reconsider that opinion as he looked to see the source of an alluringly gruff feminine voice. Finding women willing to sleep with him seemed to be the junker's gift lately, so he felt confident things would work out well with the Mirialan in question today.
"I think he charges by the word for conversation. Wanna talk, find the tip jar. Then again, chatting with me is free." The Junker stated lightheartedly, as he laid his helmet on the bar and sat down next to his quarry for the evening.
"Gimme another of what's on tap. There's a tip in it if you add a 'Yes, sir' to it." He said to the bartender as he approached, much to the other man's obvious displeasure.
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on May 29, 2015 9:26:50 GMT -5
"Well," Ervisa said with a chuckle, "Free's in the middle of my budget. Right between getting paid, and one credit."
It was amusing though, that the bartender was so damned silent, continuing on in absolute hush while fetching the drink. It was enough to kill all faith in the free market, as Socorro was essentially a libertarian paradise. Theoretically this dick should have been replaced by someone who could talk AND mix drinks. Theoretically.
The Mirialan turned a pair of grey eyes onto the human, looking him over for a few quick glances, before swiveling her attention back to her own drink.
He seemed a pretty standard spacer. The suit, the helmet. He was also probably even hotter under that than she was. The suit seemed to cover a lot more skin than her short Aratech tank top. Beyond that physical heat, she could say the man looked pretty normal. Not ugly, but he wasn't about to get cast as an action hero in the next Holonet film.
If conservation of hotness had any scientific validity, that meant he probably had a pretty good personality. Still, no sense speculating about everything. Ervi unfastened the straps on her fingerless gloves and pulled them off, slapping them down onto the counter. They'd been helpful when the metal outside was hot, but now they were just sweltering.
Her hand moved up, absently running across the short stubble on the left side of her head.
"Let me guess," Ervi began, "Layover on a cargo run?"
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Jun 1, 2015 18:33:00 GMT -5
Bax instantly felt half the battle to bedding his new green friend had been won when she decided to not immediately insult him or throw a drink in his face. Usually after introductions everything was smooth sailing. Plus, she didn't seem to have much else going on. If Kara was any indicator, bored women seemed to equate bonable women.
"Good guess, but actually I'm meeting someone out in the desert not far from here in a bit, hopefully. Had some time to kill, so came in here." The junker explained, while unclasping his gloves and sliding them off as his beer arrived.
Not wanting to go into detail, Bax left out the part about the person he wished to meet being some hocky hutt junk dealer like himself. He'd acquired a little over a hundred mildly used B1 battledroids on Nar Shadda a week or so back, during a bid war for storage containers, and couldn't seen get rid of the things. The chance of having a small private army just didn't seem as appealing when it was made of these waste of metal apparently.
The thought of keeping them for himself did cross Bax's mind, but he had a feeling they'd definitely be more trouble than they were worth. They'd already proven that assumption by now just trying to get them sold. This hutt was his last hope, and still there was no guarantee he'd accept the asking price, besides being a famously devoted collector of Clone War items, he was also famously picky about his purchases.
"So, what about you? Cargo run, or something attract you to this sweltering little planet?" He continued, after taking a big swig of the pleasantly cool brew, deciding to focus on the current milestone in front of him. "My name's Bax, by the way."
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Jun 1, 2015 18:51:50 GMT -5
Ervisa grinned, the corners of her lips pulling up into an impish smile. The meeting in the desert clinched it even more than the layover, Bax was definitely doing something illegal. Whether that made him a professional smuggler or not, she didn't much know or care, as she'd certainly had her share of less-than-legal work. But there was something almost naively innocent about the way he was trying to be coy about it on Socorro.
Of course he did turn about the question, which was quite polite and gave Ervisa the same courtesy.
"Finished up flying a private contract, I'm not an owner-operator. Frankly I think the actual owner just wanted a low profile on this one, send someone with a pretty clean record on the route to avoid any complications. Either way, I'm here, just kinda floating around until I find something else. Least my pockets are full enough."
The green-skinned woman decided to make the introduction a little more formal. Her right hand extended, the Corellian Banshee Bird tattoed on it diving forward in very friendly fashion. The handshake wasn't necessarily the greatest gesture to make, but it seemed decent enough. Also it probably surprised the hell out of people to see her, adorned in tattoos and piercings, blaster strapped to her thigh, being polite.
"The name's Ervisa, people usually call me Ervi."
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Jun 1, 2015 19:23:21 GMT -5
Bax was honestly taken aback by the offer of a handshake. He hadn't done one of those in ages it seemed like. Most folks he dealt with didn't seem civil or patient enough to take time for a little etiquette anymore. In fact, the junker considered himself lucky when he didn't go on jobs for folks that'd try to kill him for the goods and credits.
Releasing the firm on his beer, Bax met Evri's grip with gusto and an approving grin. This woman was definitely a cut above most he ran into, his togruta friend not included, and added a solid boost to her already massive attractiveness.
"Nice to meet you, Ervi. You got a good handshake." The junker stated, not having 'for a woman' even cross his mind. "Like the ink, definitely not standard Mirialan, if I'm not mistaken. Got any with a nice story?"
Bax went back to finish off his beer while his new friend responded. At the risk of giving up a part of his profits, he was tempted to attempt hiring her for the trip into the desert. Even if they didn't fuck,she seemed like awesome company to have around. "Also, you up for a job by any chance?"
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Post by The Conman on Jun 1, 2015 20:14:10 GMT -5
"...Please leave a message after the tone....BLEEEEEP."
Donnie sighed, and, without even looking, pressed the button on the console to her right to close the comm channel. The woman'd been on Socorro for 8 hours, instead of the 1 she'd planned on. Her contact having just up and vanished, presumably with her load of multi-sized self-sealing stem-bolts. Though most wouldn't bat an eye about missing a shipment of SSTB's, her people, the Boska, were critically short of them. The Empire's squeezing of their supply lines was utterly ineffective, except for their ability to disrupt their supply of 'bolts so much, they were literally about to run out. A desperate situation, which called for desperate measures.
Desperate measures like Doneeda striking out on her own, meeting with a contact she'd not heard from in nearly a decade, and on a planet the Boska database described as "A lot like Tattoine, just without the class.". The reality was that Donnie nearly never travelled alone, her wife, Var, typically along with her ( either by her side, or simply along for the ride ) to keep her company and sane. Not this time, though, Var had bowed out before Donnie had left, something about having to go to the Denitst...all week.
Doneeda figured ( probably rightly so ) that it was a ploy to get her out of the house for a few days. Either way, the loneliness was oppressive, her contact wasn't picking up, and the ship's database indicated there was a bar not 5 minutes away from the spaceport. If she wasn't going to get her stembolts, she'd at least get a few drinks, Donnie figured, spinning her chair away from the console and standing up, bumping her head on the ceiling of the ship.
"Ow..." She muttered, making a mental note that the ship wasn't designed with somebody 6'1 in mind.
The woman walked down the "neck" of the beat up "loaner" freighter she'd been given, coming out into a circular central room and veering to the right, into her makeshift "quarters". Basically a cot on a floor with a blanket and a backpack with a change of clothes in it. Donnie hadn't really thought about getting dressed properly. She'd been alone on the ship for 2 days, and figured she'd just get civilized when she made contact with her guy on Socorro. As such, she'd basically just worn her ( rather skimpy ) underwear and a simple white tanktop, forgoing the bra, comfort being her priority.
She soon found her pants and other junk ( gun, holster, utility belt, shoes, bra ) and got dressed. She took a look at herself in the mirror, turning to the side then around and looking over her shoulder, making sure everything was "on" right, before turning around and chucking to herself. The woman had been wearing a black shirt when she left, and had only packed black bras. She was wearing a white, rather tight ( everything was tight on her chest...) tank top with the black bra.
"Whatever...haters gonna hate..." She muttered, grabbing her avaitor sunglasses and popping them on her face, then her wallet and putting it in her pocket, before heading out.
--- 5 Minutes Later ---
Donnie looked at the locator on her Comm again then back at the bar, figuring it was correct. The woman had to admit it was warm, but also unnerving. She'd never felt comfortable in open spaces or with sky over her head, having grown up on ships and spent the vast majority of time on them, being outside was weird to the woman. She surveyed the bar and surmised it was probably a spacer bar, more of a dive than anything else, hopefully with cheap drinks and something interesting on the Holo.
The woman walked into the establishment, and the sudden change in lighting, combined with her sunglasses, made everything seem pitch-dark for a moment, while she move them and perched them on her head, just ahead of her Leeku. Donnie took a quick look around and realized most of the tables were full, and that there was a seat at the bar available beside a Mirilan. The Twi'lek couldn't care less what she sat beside so long as it wasn't a wet wookie and strode over, taking a seat and trying to gesture to the bartender.
After a second or two it became obvious he wasn't paying attention. Donnie took a quick look around and saw and abandoned drink, the drink part obviously drank, but the ice cubes still very much intact. Leaning forward and grabbing the cup, she hatched a devious plan, and removed an ice cube, and tossed it at the bartender, hitting him squarely in the back of the head, the ice cube falling down his shirt.
He very quickly was fumbing around, arching his back and trying desperately to remove the offending cold piece of frozen water from his clothing any way he could, Donnie putting the cup about an arms length away from her and silently killing herself laughing. After a moment or two of the man trying to and finally succeeding in untucking his shirt and letting the cube fall out, he looked over in her and the couple's general direction, his expression unreadable to Donnie.
She, still trying to hold back laughter and leaning on the bar on her elbows, gestured to the couple with her thumb on her right hand.
"Dinnedoit" she managed to blurt out, breaking out into a huge grin.
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Jun 1, 2015 20:53:12 GMT -5
Ervisa's drink was halfway to her mouth when the tattoo question was delivered.
If there was any set of cardinal rules in the galaxy, in existence to benefit the knowledge of various diverse races, one of the first ones would be a warning about variable interest rates with Hutts. Only slightly further down the list would be asking Mirialans about their tattoos. Whether on the backwater home-planet, or wandering about in traditional modest robes, or wandering about in a fur coat and a bikini, no Mirialan could resist talking about their tattoos. Ervisa was certainly no exception, and after a very quick swig she began a rather long discourse.
"So this one on the right arm's a Corellian Banshee Bird, you might've noticed from my accent, but Corellia's kind of my home. Not by birth mind you, but it's the place I spent the best time..."
As the Mirialan talked about the lines, she failed to really notice the Twi'lek walk in.
It wasn't that she flat-out didn't notice, but more that she processed the woman's presence in the same way you'd notice another one of Crazy Raxto M'Kel's used speeder commercials come across the screen, with a vague sort of indifference. Whether there was any kind of nod of recognition or not, Ervisa couldn't remember within ten seconds as she'd started talking about the dragon on her left forearm, a relic of her mercenary career.
By the time she reached the most obvious tattoo, and the one that probably raised the most questions, the Twi'lek was aiming an ice cube.
"-And the mythosaur's from my ex, he was a Mandalorian, wanted me to do the whole culture thing. Let's face it though, farming is boring as-"
"Shit!" The bartender yelped, as he fidgeted for the ice down his shirt.
Only then did Ervisa take a good look at the Twi'lek, realizing immediately that she was very tall, and also apparently needed to do some laundry. Well, that and she was illustrating exactly why Ervi wasn't a big fan of black and white color schemes. The sunglasses though were a nice touch. If a little weird. The sun was halfway down anyway, give it another hour and she'd be wearing those sunglasses at night.
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Jun 1, 2015 21:54:45 GMT -5
A small knowing smirk crossed Bax's lips at the mention of Ervi's first tattoo. Not because he knew what a Corellian Banshee Bird was, he'd literally only heard of it this second, but because his new friend coming from Corellia made sense. There we're very few the junker had met in his travels that weren't standup people, still with an enjoyable illegal twinge, or just plain fun to be around. Ervi seemed to have both bases covered.
Unfortunately, Bax's travels and tribulations had yet to bring him to Corellia, yet the more of the natives he met the more he considered retiring there. Even without the people it just seemed like a really nice planet all around, plus all the others in the system were within spitting distance. The Drall and Selonians always interested him too.
Zoning back in, the junker maintained his smile while listening to Ervi's life story via the virtual mural on her skin. Bax kind of always admired the decision to have something inked or seared into someone's flesh, but that was not the thing for him. The only tattoo he ever got was a badge on his shoulder for a prison gang in Coruscant, and he never liked to talk about that one for obvious reasons.
Before he could ask about his friend's time as a mandalorian, the bartender's outburst of cursing and jerky movements caught him unawares. A swipe of his arm accidently sent his empty mug straight into the building's grimy floor. Glass went everywhere.
Following Ervi's example, the embarrassed Junker threw a disinterested look to her until said, and was before happy by what he saw. It was like the universe was raining beautiful women just for him. Not that he got their love or tolerance on a regular basis.
"So, what about that job question?" Bax asked, more determined ever to have Ervi join him for at least today. He was also equally determined to have the Twi'lek pay for the glass if the bartender asked about it.
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Post by The Conman on Jun 2, 2015 19:26:08 GMT -5
Donnie heard the glass smash as the bartender was surveying the situation, not long after he'd turned around. Her expression went from that of a devious child to one of a child caught in the act. Red handed, even. It was fairly obvious, even to her, that the bartender knew who'd thrown the ice cube and he wasn't pleased.
The woman leaned back in her chair, propping herself up with her right hand on the bar and playing with the end of her nearest leeku with her left, and looked at the bartender with her yellow eyes soft and pouty lips.
"Isorry..."
She said, looking away from the bartender and at a suddenly interesting black spot on the floor. If she'd continued looking at the bartender, she'dve seen him simply shrug. After a moment, she looked back.
"Nowda I go'ur 'tention doe....ahhh...Ca'aye 'ave a Kuat-ie dipstick ana...beer...waddevs cheep?"
Donnie asked, somewhat sheepishly. The Bartender shrugged, and started to turn around, presumably to get her drink, so Donnie let her leeku go with her left hand and gestured to him to keep his attention, which he directed at her chest. The situation was so common that Doneeda simply didn't care, and just continued on, motioning to the man who'd shattered his glass.
"Ged'em wad'e wa drinkin..."
She said, pausing and turning to the man, nodding to the Mirilan as she did so.
"...Isory abou-da, no-gud havin' booze onda floor, is almacahol aboose ja-kno."
Doneeda said, with a smirk at the end, hoping she'd sufficiently smoothed things over, giving the rather attractive Mirilan a quick once-over and surmising she had to find out weather or not the floors were carpeted or hardwood.
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Jun 2, 2015 21:19:10 GMT -5
Ervisa's response to the job question was again forestalled, as the Twi'lek talked to the bartender, and then to the pair of them.
Now, Ervisa Therani had seen a lot of things. Attack ships on fire, c-beams glittering in the dark, the whole nine yards. From the core to the rim, and back on in, she'd worked some kind of job. So it was almost mind-blowing to the green-skinned woman that she couldn't seem to understand one solitary word the Twi'lek was saying.
It was like listening to someone's immigrant grandmother from some unknown planet, yelling to her perfectly normal child, and then having to ask the kid what the hell she just said.
With a blank expression, Ervisa looked back to Bax, and the bartender.
For a long moment she didn't do anything. Then, she reached into a pocket in the bag at her feet, fishing out a pack of tabac cigarettes and a lighter. With a flick, the flame activated and she held the tip to it, breathing in a cloud of the richly aromatic smoke. It was a long, deep breath, exhaled slowly. She paused for a single moment further, and then spoke.
"Was that Basic?"
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Jun 2, 2015 22:23:11 GMT -5
The fact Bax's question went unanswered for a second time barely registered at that moment. Instead most of his brain's processing power was going into checking what their weird Twi'lek friend said against all the languages he'd ever heard. So far the search didn't bring back any results.
The junker probably had the same idea of what was being said as anyone privy to this expulsion of gibberish. If her eyes had been a bit more glassy, and her movements a little less fluid, he'd imagine the woman was drunk talking like this.
"I have no idea, and I forgot my protocol droid on the ship." Bax answered the more coherent of the beauties in his midst, even though he was sure it was more of a rhetorical question. "OK, I'm gonna try something."
After catching the Twi'lek's eye he decided to try a different approach, and asked "Do you understand me?" in Huttese, Bocce and the best Twi'leki he could pull off without lekku.
The junker had a few more obscure ones he could try, but held off butchering them for now. No reason to go through that if the Twi'lek could speak one of those he was halfway decent with.
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Post by The Conman on Jun 4, 2015 19:00:44 GMT -5
Donnie saw the Bartender shrug at her as the Mirilan asked if she was speaking Basic. The woman sighed, and put her palm to her face for a moment while she tried to remember how to properly speak Basic. The language wasn't her strong suit, and her lack of practice was apparent. The woman made a mental note to practice more with Var or Enarin as soon as she got back home.
Doneeda looked back at the Mirilan.
"Yeeess?" She said, sheepishly, playing with the tip of one of her leeku with her left hand.
She was about to continue, vowing to redouble her efforts to form coherent words, when she heard the woman's companion pipe up in both Bocce and Huttese. He was asking if she understood him, and truth be told, she did. Donnie understood both of them, but the question in her mind, was weather or not they'd understand her. She had a basic understanding of Bocce, anybody who spent any extended amount of time in space did, it was basically a requirement of the trade, and she spoke Huttese fluently...ish. Donnie was about to respond when she heard the man trying to speak Twi'leki, and she burst out laughing.
She covered her mouth with her right hand, and controlled herself fairly quickly, seeing a human ( or what she presumed was a human ) try to speak Twi'leki was a comical thing. Donnie gestured to him, and leaned over a bit to see around the Mirilan.
"I can understand you, yes. I think you might need a pair of these-" She said, gesturing to her lekku.
"-though, cause you'll need to buy me a drink at least before I do THAT with your third lekku!" She answered, in Huttese, a toothy grin on the woman's face by the end.
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Jun 4, 2015 19:24:58 GMT -5
Ervisa nodded understandingly, as the Twi'lek's answer became clear.
Well, contextually. It was either 'yeez' or yes. And since it hadn't been followed by a loud 'nuts' it answered the question.
So the lady had bad Basic. Judging by the fact her tits had their own gravitational field, that was hardly too much of an obstacle. Bodies were universal language, like ice cubes being thrown. The question was how to adapt if they were going to have a conversation. Bax started talking in Bocce, which she understood just fine, and then Huttese. Which she didn't. Precisely.
Then he started rattling off something else that apparently didn't work that great, as the Twi'lek started laughing, and replying back in... Huttese?
The Mirialan sipped on her drink patiently, listening, trying to pick out words here and there.
Artichoke? No, was that pair. It was a confusing jumble of words though, and by the end of it, Ervi had simply given up, and gone back to drinking.
And thinking. There was that proposed job. She didn't know what precisely it was, but probably just back-up on his little desert enterprise. Frankly given her merc background, that prospect wasn't too troubling. It meant some modicum of pay, and maybe if she played her cards right, a trip to some more reputable world where she could find legitimate work.
Yes, she'd accept the offer. When he asked again.
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Post by Mr. Slender on Jun 4, 2015 20:26:42 GMT -5
Bax gotten used to being laughed at around the time he decided to make Imperial Garbage man his career, yet something about the fact the Twi'lek was making fun of his use of her language that kinda irked him. Trying counted for a lot in his eyes, so his attempting to speak a language he was physically incapable of doing it correctly deserved big props in his books.
Still, the junker keep his cool and tried to keep his attention between Ervi and stacked Twi'lek, but the latter stole the show with that last comment in Huttese. Partly because it was good to finally have some idea whatever it was she was saving, and partly because having beautiful women talk about his dick was such a turn on.
"Drinks for my friends, get them what they want. Especially her." Bax rambled off with a poker face to the bartender, who seemed to understand his quick switch to Huttese very well.
"I just told him drinks are on me, in case you didn't understand me, drink your fill." He added, throwing basic back at Ervi. The titillating Twi'lek seemed a blast, but against all odds he was still more interesting in showing his Mirialan friend his third one lekku.
A quick glance at his watch confirmed that the deadline to rendezvous with his contact was sneaking up fast. He didn't have time to screw around. "I'm all for sitting her getting slammed with you two, but I still have a job to do. It'll go faster if I had some help. I'll be happy to give you each a percentage if you'd accept." Bax stated to his green friend at first, before switching to yelling over her head in Huttese at the other one.
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