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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Dec 13, 2015 23:56:33 GMT -5
Raasha Ka had to admit that the hunting business hadn't been as good as it used to be. The one aspect about that which bothered her wasn't the lack of income, which didn't make a lot of difference for her village. It was the lack of answers. She didn't know why fewer people were showing up. The numbers had been fairly consistent for several years, but they'd just narrowed down to a trickle in the last months. It wasn't just due to the decreased number of fugitives they'd moved to safety. There was some other factor. All she could really do was to guess, to blatantly speculate the Empire was pushing more xenophobia, and that fewer humans wanted to visit for hunting trips. Raasha frowned a little, her pale eyes looking at the pelt on the wall before her. The russet hide was very neat, very decorative. But yet it wasn't sold. It'd been all neatly prepared two months ago and was just another longterm showpiece in their storefront.
The slim Togruta woman didn't like manning a storefront. When it was just a place to wait for the next client it was fine, but when it was a dry spell and it was the only event she had... Well that was bleakly disappointing. A little troubling in fact.
She didn't mind things reasonably static. But since her mother had returned to the village, she was alone in Cover City. And what was more, she didn't like it. The sheet metal everywhere, rusty as it was, the ugly blocks used to build. The whole place felt uncomfortable. It felt poor in the way that places only felt where they devoted love to credits. It was great contrast to Corvala when she'd visited. That town was beautiful masonry, with growing things here and there. It wasn't any richer, but fewer people cared.
The Empire had the worst habits of forcing it's own negative traits onto everyone else. Raasha didn't care for politics. But, that was something she'd still comment on. Just not loudly.
She rose to her feet, and padded silently across the rough floor to stand by the window. Her tall boots were lying by the bench on the wall, next to her rifle and her backpack. The warm air of the early evening felt good on her toes. Before long when night did fall, nobody would easily tell the dark red of her feet from the soil anyway. The most they'd likely see would be the off-white of her tunic. Despite the 'garish' colors, she blended in surprisingly well. As was the way with most 'distinct' predators.
Raasha sighed a little as she thought about what to do. Probably eat something. Then maybe climb up the roof and watch the stars once it was dark enough. It'd do. Their multiple moons were at their dimmest and most dispersed phases. It made for especially dark nights, which meant good stars. Not even the lights from Cover City were liable to drown those out.
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Dec 14, 2015 12:17:43 GMT -5
Bekk Gath adored his job and clientele greatly, yet the repeat visits of certain residences were starting to wear on his patience. The fees that piled up from their continued mistreatment of their vehicles and various equipment were nice for his pocket and all, it was just starting to get boring. You work on the same speeder truck four or five times and you're gonna know it inside and out. All challenge went out the window when that happened, and challenge was the main draw of working for him.
Today had gone like almost all the others; a few folks needing to get fluids checked, a couple of tune ups and a number of calls wondering if parts had arrived from Corvala for particular vehicles, same old same old. The only highlight had been the arrival of a vendor pushing some gimmicky tool boxes, who was thankfully still kinda enough to hand out free shirts even when rejected. All in all, it was just another day in paradise for the zabrak.
Evening clean was going easy enough, and Bekk was looking forward to grabbing a nice cup of Jawa juice once the shift ended. He was probably the first one to notice a high pitched whine carried on the wind, but within a few moments all of the mechanics were looking up at the source: an airspeeder trailing smoke and nosediving.
Experience led Bekk to believe that the sound was clearly from a bad bearing in one of the repulserlift drives, not that the reason behind this imminent disaster was really important at this moment anyway. The mechanic's hope that the craft would over shoot the garage faded with each meter it got closer, to the point he quickly started looking for a place to duck and cover.
He watched the descent right up until he could clearly see the pilot was a hooded humanoid, before diving behind a row of full lubricant barrels. Instead of the explosion he figured was about to happen, there was a loud bang of several tons of metal hitting stone, followed by the long scrape of materials against one another, and finally a crash and the shattering of glass.
Bekk nearly immediately poked his head up to examine the carnage, only to find it not as bad as he'd imagined. For starters the round garage itself took no damage and the vast area of duracrete surrounding it received only minor cracks on impact. The only real casualty of the incident was the XP-38 owned by a member of the garrison, which had finally stopped the air speeder but been flipped over in the crash. However, the air speeder itself suddenly burst into spectacular flames as the zabrak rose to his feet.
He quickly turned to dash for a fire extinguisher, only the find Gnat hovering with one in his hands already. 'I believe you want one of these, master.' The droid chimed in it's always pleasant tone. "Perfect as always, thanks." Bekk fired back while reaching out to grab the device, flashing his assistant a wide grin. A look to either side let him notice coworkers arming themselves similar to douse the flew before they spread, but he sprinted towards the craft to be first.
He'd completely forgotten about the pilot until he spotted someone in a cloak sprinting across the street, then vanish behind the back of the fuel depot.
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Dec 14, 2015 18:45:41 GMT -5
Raasha's hearing was about as sensitive as anybody would expect given her peculiar physiology, and she heard the awkward whining before the airspeeder passed over. She was standing outside as she watched the vehicle limping its way over her shop, trailing smoke behind it as it rapidly descended down to where she'd gauge was that garage. It was a business she only visited when her landspeeder was acting up, which honestly wasn't often. Still, she'd been in perhaps a week ago, perhaps two, just for a minor bit of maintenance. What it was she couldn't say, as Raasha didn't particularly understand or care to understand the vehicle beyond operating it. Her legs were all the transportation she needed.
It wasn't surprising to anybody who knew Raasha that she felt obligated to learn about incidents like that. It was something more basic and less codified than the phrase 'civic duty' implied. It was a common mutualistic desire to put out any fires before they spread, and to set any broken bones, or to staunch any bleeding wounds. Simple, basic courtesy.
Raasha swiftly moved through the street to follow, doubly so when she heard the screeching crash, and she scarcely noticed a figure in a hood brush past her a minute later in the alley. That non-Togruta would go away from the site was so ordinary it didn't bear noticing. In her experience humans especially had stronger senses of self-preservation and usually liked to disappear from incidents rather than get involved.
Of course by the time she did move through the narrow alleys and into the view of the garage, there were several mechanics all spraying the flaming vehicle. With proper fire extinguishers at that. It looked as though there'd be no need to throw buckets of dirt. What was more, the Togruta woman realized quite readily how much worse this could have been, as the wreckage had fallen just shy of what seemed to be a fuel depot. It had that look of pipes and circular tanks that suggested whatever was inside was immensely flammable.
She stopped and waited nearby until the flames were out, and walked up to the Zabrak mechanic whose name she'd managed to forget.
"Are you OK?" She inquired, saying each letter with the kind of uncertainty that explained very readily she hadn't always been speaking Basic. Few people tended to actually pronounce it as two letters, most native speakers just rolling it into one smooth liaison of letters. This was more like water and oil.
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Dec 14, 2015 20:17:30 GMT -5
The roaring flames started to smolder out the second they came in contact with the retardant foam from the extinguisher, yet Bekk morbidly waited for the craft to explode in all of their faces. Thankfully, besides some soot blown over their uniforms and faces, everyone made it through unscathed. No sooner had the foam settled that the chief's voice rose up from behind with orders.
"Alright people, the owner obviously didn't give a damn about this thing, so it's ours now. Noc, get the wench. Muler, find a better place to park it for now. Bekk, check the cockpit for identification and valuables. Be sure to put anything you find on my desk. Move it, I want to go home as much as you guys." The elderly togruta barked at them, before he recieved a resounding "Yes, chief." in return.
Honestly, the zabrak felt like adding something else for the old bastard over that pointed comment at him, but decided this really wasn't the time or place for it. Bekk thoughts drifted to the inevitable day the old akul would finally crawl up under his desk and die, so it took him a few moments to register someone had spoken to him.
"Hmmm...?" He grunted as he turned to face to newest arrival to the crash site, then added "Yes, I'm OK." as he realized she had to still be waiting for an answer. The togruta woman's skin tone was much darker than most others he ran into on a regular basis, which made him absolutely sure they'd met before, either here or around the city. He just couldn't recall when.
The sound of the wench powering up in the garage snapped him back to his job at hand, so he turned away from her to vault into the air speeder's driver seat. The storage hatch on the passenger side had the regular collection of booklets and loose odds and ends, which he haphazardly tossed out of the vehicle. He did the same with the scattered food packages coating the floor, not finding so much as a single credit chit under them.
Bekk's hands did graze something smooth under the seat though. He figured it was a hydrospanner or some other common hand tool, but the cylinder he withdrew didn't look like anything he'd seen before. The mechanic didn't have time to examine the buttons of the side before Noc blew the horn on the repulsor wench.
The zabrak climbed out of the craft just a moment before the magnets yanked the rear end to a high angle. Bekk decided to ignore the chief's orders this once, and slipped the odd device into his tool belt for now, at least until he could figure out what it was. With the wrecked being dragged away he realized what kinda mess he'd made in his rush. He knelt and quickly started to stack all the papers into a neat pile when he also realized he hadn't addressed the togruta woman either. Ugh, he was slipping.
"Oh, I know we've met before, but I can't recall your name, miss. I wanna say it started with a.....K?" He stated, hoping she would let his fishing attempt slide due to his honesty.
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Dec 14, 2015 20:53:09 GMT -5
Raasha stood there, her head tilted slightly as she waited for an answer. The Zabrak seemed very distracted, and it took him a moment to reply to her. She didn't mind. He was busy, obviously. There was a fire, and judging by their rapid comments they planned to salvage the speeder. Given how small Cover City was (even if it was large by her standards) it was likely everybody'd talk about the incident. She gave him a nod to show she'd heard his comment, then idly stood in the afternoon light, watching the mechanics go about their tasks.
Brusque as it may have been to others, the answer was just fine to her, and she was a little surprised when after he finished with his tasks and headed back over to her. She didn't really have anything planned to do. At all. And given how she'd never gotten into the habit of locking anything, she'd planned on watching for a while, then wandering around. Maybe finding something to eat. But it was interrupted, and she cocked her head again as the man arrived. Her angular features looked inquisitive, and her eyes were trying to pick up on some clue she'd associated with a name before. It wasn't one she remembered. It had some harsh sound in it. It wasn't fluid, it felt a little foreign-
Luckily they didn't have each other at any disadvantage there. She supplied her name.
"Raasha," She said, the 'r' sound rolling like a cat's purr, "Raasha Ka."
She'd learned splitting the names up like that helped the first and the clan be differentiated. It tended to roll together into one single sort of sound.
"I can't remember your name either," Raasha said, also having difficulty remembering if 'either' was supposed to sound like 'tree' or 'eye'. She sort of split the difference between them.
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Dec 14, 2015 22:27:48 GMT -5
Ironically, the more Bekk listened to her speak the more he remember about the togruta. Her name finally came to him while she rolled the first letter of it, but he maintained a poker face during her reveal, nodding softly along the way. Besides her choice in vehicles, her accent in basic really made her stand out a great deal, at least to him.
"It's Bekk." The zabrak replied flatly, still flashing a smile, while gesturing to the name embroidered on his coveralls. However, he didn't stop to notice that soot had painted the are in question all black.
The mechanic fell silent again while focusing on wrangling the last of the paper work, then gave a short whistle. From inside the garage Gnat came zipping out towards the two before descenting to talk to the zabrak on his kneeling level. 'Yes, master Bekk?'
"Please, drop these on the chief's desk. He'll want them. Then return here." Bekk told his tiny assistant, during the process of raising from his knees. The droid was much stronger than its design would seem, so it took the sizable stack from his arms without a bit of trouble. The zabrak didn't acknowledge its departure, instead focusing on using a rag to wipe soot from his face before turning back to Raasha.
"We're about to close, and I was going to get a drink at the cantina down the street. Wanna join me? I honestly wouldn't mind the company and conversation." He said, calmly looking her in the eye while moving to remove his headset and protective cap.
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Dec 15, 2015 0:33:53 GMT -5
Beck. Bekk. It wasn't something she was sure how it was spelled, she wasn't overly literate and the nametag was covered in something. Either way it was a short, sharp sort of sound. She recognized that as vowels, short vowels that made it sound clipped, like he was trying to shorten the name. Somehow though she thought Beek would have sounded more Togruti and less... Zabraki? She wasn't even sure what common Zabrak names were. Or uncommon ones for that matter. She paid no attention to the droid that came up to receive belongings. They were, to her thinking, like less-attractive rocks that talked and moved.
The mechanic extended her an offer to come with him for a drink. That kind of thing wasn't what she knew well. Social customs were her one major point of confusion, because they were so different for offworlders than for her tribal life. She'd been exposed to enough of the holonet shows on screens in bars to know that there was some complicated and counter-intuitive social ritual about asking people to do certain activities, socially, and acceptance was supposed to be acceptance of a relationship. There wasn't any direct asking and answering.
Or so she was informed.
The fact was, her policy was all hinged on taking things as they were presented. She couldn't read all the casual layers. So while she might have had the suspicion on some level this was a strange alien social ritual, she was going to treat it as totally ordinary Togruti socialization.
"That would be very nice," Raasha replied, smiling thinly. She didn't drink much per se. But she did eat. It was going to be a nice solution to her own question of what to do. And, as much as she wasn't keen on heavy talking, it meant more practice for her Basic. "Thank you," She finished.
She was, however, uncertain that was the right pleasantry for the situation.
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Dec 16, 2015 14:10:35 GMT -5
Upfront and direct were the ways Bekk preferred to operate, but he couldn't always tell how people were gonna take it. Experience had taught him that coworkers tended to treat comments with disdain, or feigned ignorance of their short comings. He hoped Raasha didn't get the wrong idea from what he was genuinely asking, yet didn't offer a clearer statement.
Might have come off as denying it too much, even if he really didn't feel anything worth denying.
"Thank you, for accepting. I'll be right back, gonna clean up a bit first. Won't be more than a few minutes." The zabrak replied with his own grin, before spinning on his heel and bounding off towards the garage. Gnat met him halfway there on his return, but fell into a holding pattern behind his master's shoulder without a word. Beyond the empty lifts and tool trolleys the pair quickly ducked into the employee locker area.
It seemed the whole cramped room was alive with conversations going on between everyone inside, yet Bekk remained silent as he wove his way to his locker. The cap and goggles he'd taken off were left on the top shelf as usual, followed closely by his vest and toolbelt in the center, and his strictly work boots on the bottom. The mechanic examined the burnt orange T-shirt from "Stigoeh 'Spanners" under his jumpsuit, before pulling the latter down to his waist and tying the sleeves around it.
Bekk slipped his off duty work boots on, grabbed his satchel and was about to leave the din of gossip, before remembering the odd device from the speeder. The mechanic quickly removed the cylinder from his tool belt, then nonchalantly slipped it into his bag. The last thing he needed was to be asked questions from his coworkers, knowing them the bastards would probably say his was stealing tools.
The zebrak returned to the toguta on a dead run, dead set on keeping his word on how long it'd take him. "Thanks for waiting, let's get out of here." Bekk said, his breath slightly labored, flashing another grin.
The sound of a repulsorcraft again assaulted his ears, just this time he didn't see anything barreling out of the sky. Instead, two speeder bikes zoomed past, clearly carrying scout troopers, followed be two much slower trooper transports in single file. He couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling they were after whoever that had been in the cloak earlier...
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Dec 16, 2015 22:19:37 GMT -5
The 74Z bikes that scouts rode on around were mechanically unknown to Raasha, but she did know they had a very distinct sort of sound. It carried a very long distance in most of Shili, and she heard them in the distance only a few seconds after the Zabrak left to go inside. By the time he was emerging, they were arriving, and Raasha knew well they weren't good people to be around. The white armor was a pretty universal sign that it was time to leave. Especially when the ugly, boxy transports opened their doors and disgorged a large number of troopers.
Needless to say, Raasha wasn't going to argue one word with Bekk on it.
She politely gave a little tug on the mechanic's arm to guide him away from the Imperial entanglement, moving away through the street in a direction that was about as good as any. Cover City wasn't that big after all, and you could find your way around pretty easily no matter what. There was the question though of which bar he was inclined to go to. As Raasha herself had discovered, there were three types of bar in the city, and they all came with some form of baggage or other. The kind she was most familiar with was completely native Togruta. The orders were spoken and given in Togruti, the patrons and employees were Togruta, and there was no holonet receiver.
More common was the 'mixed' style, which had things posted in Basic, you heard both languages, and the staff were mostly pretty Togruta women. It attracted a lot of spacers and what few tourists came these days. Then the rarest was the Imperial-favored establishment, she'd forgotten what it was called, but it was right outside the base and had an entirely human staff. And a human menu. It was a bit boring to her thoughts, to neglect all the food you had easy access to in favor of whatever came in off of freighters.
She was a major enthusiast of fresh food after all.
"Which-" She paused, trying to remember the word he'd used, because she didn't use it, and what was more Basic had too many words for bar, thank you very much, "cantina do you go to?"
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Dec 17, 2015 0:02:50 GMT -5
Bekk had a distinct lack of fear surrounding The Empire on a whole, yet knew their sudden presence was never a good thing. The zabrak had lived in Cover City long enough to get the feeling the garrison didn't bother to jump into action unless under the gun themselves, so his interest was truly piqued over this sudden show of muscle. If not for Raasha light touch he would've grabbed a drink from the shop and just watch where this was all going.
Still, as the occasional patrols liked to say, it was time to move along. He liked to hit bars early anyway.
"That is a good question..." The zabrak fired back initially, before diving into his own mind for some quick thinking. Truthfully, he had several bars he often frequented, minus any of the imperial watering holes. Which one on which day just depended on what kinda mood he was in that night, and tonight he was feeling a place in the middle.
"I like a lot of places, but tonight how about the Pod Pit? It's a swoop bar if you've never been. I've heard the owner's an old Podracer, hence the name. They have a bunch of different races on the holonet every day, and the bartender knows their stuff." Bekk rambled on as they walked along, hooking a left at the fuel depot and dodging a squad of Imperial troopers jogging down the sidewalk in two columns.
Not quite two blocks down was a building section with seemingly more rust on its prefab siding, with several swoops parked out front. The main sign was visible approaching from the side like this, but a metal sign swaying from a rod over the door had Pod Pit roughly painted on. Bekk scanned the row of fine machines as they approached, and he briefly weighted the pros and cons of trading his speeder for a proper swoop.
Past the the front door of dented durasteel and obviously made reinforcements to the frame, the bar was just how he liked it. Lively, with a small crowd of locals standing around the huge view scene dominating the back wall and chanting some being's name, but everyone minding their own business. The nautolan bartender was the only one he noticed that even gave them a quick glance.
The furniture and general aesthetic of the establishment spoke of either an incredible artist or the cheapest being imaginable. All the furniture, from the individual tables to the bar counter itself, seemed welded together from general scrap with cushions add to alleviate any potential sharp, jagged edges left over. Good races on the net aside, the decor had a certain economic flair that Bekk just adored.
"Bar, table, or booth?" The zabrak asked his company for the evening, hoping that her choice had a good view of a screen no matter where she ultimately went with.
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Dec 17, 2015 0:56:27 GMT -5
Raasha didn't dispute the choice, largely because the only thing she knew about the establishment was the name. And a little bit of local lore suggesting the owner, who she didn't remember the name of or the species of, had been a pod racer. Given she'd never been remotely interested in any form of racing, from pods to speeders to hounds, she hadn't ever dropped by. That meant she couldn't have a low opinion or take issue with Bekk's choice. Besides, it wasn't as if he was likely to be well-received in a local bar.
As they walked towards the bar, Raasha slowly put the Empire out of her mind. The fact was that none of them really liked the occupation. Things had always been strange before the Empire. Shili wasn't a big world, wasn't the sort to become involved in the Galactic Senate. The planetary government had always been small and tribal, and they'd not done more than vote present. But they'd been accepting of the Republic, and glad to be counted heavily among the ranks of the Jedi. And then the Empire had declared itself and just magically by extension Shili was in the Empire. It wasn't something they took very eagerly to.
Particularly given the Empire's bases, and their checkpoints, and their papers. It wasn't strange to hear about people shot by their troopers either. Perhaps the Togruta were more 'aware' than others, but it wasn't as if Bekk was much safer. The Empire didn't care much for either of them. Yes, it was indeed best to just stay away.
They entered the bar and Raasha looked around, and had to admit she felt a little disappointed. There were a handful of Togruta patrons. Her species was mostly represented by waitresses in tight tops and short shorts, showing a lot of cleavage and a lot of thigh. The bartender was a species she didn't remember the name of. The decor was all spartan metal with racing themes. It felt very foreign to her. Not in a particularly interesting way either. The question of where to sit rattled about though, and she tried to decide which was best. In the end she thought the booth sounded most comfortable, and she announced the decision before sliding into the vinyl seat. It stuck to the dark red skin of her thighs a bit.
She looked at the menu printed in Aurebesh. It was part of the table, and she tried to look at it carefully and sound out the words in her head without moving her lips. The fact was that she didn't read very well, and she wasn't precisely ashamed of it, but she also knew that it was liable to make people look down on her. Especially here. Out in the scrubs it wasn't surprising if you didn't read at all, but here it was different. She could pick through the menu for words she knew, and she could order those, and that way nobody was the wiser.
Or there was the old option of 'make it two.'
"What are you going to order?" She asked, silently hoping it was something she wouldn't mind echoing.
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Dec 17, 2015 10:44:19 GMT -5
Silently Bekk had hoped that the togruta would've picked the bar, but didn't let his slight disappointment show as he followed her to their booth. Honestly, he'd never sat at one of these or a table since he began coming here. The bar offered fast servings of Jaws juice, plenty of complimentary warrant nuts, a good view screen and occasional good conversation, what more could he want?
Examining the menu was another first for the night, but he was disappointed by the few items geared towards his eating habits. Even the salads present all seemed to be buried in meat or smothered in cheese. Even with it removed they didn't sound exactly appetizing, so he moved on.
"I'm not sure yet. Nothing is really jumping out at me..." Bekk explained, with eyes still glued to the table surface. All the main courses were a bust, yet something under appetizers suddenly caught his attention. Before he could say anything though, one of the waitresses bounced and swayed her way over to the table.
Her simple, yet well spoken greeting of "Good evening, what can I get for you two?" in basic kinda further outlined the stilted nature of Raasha's in comparison. Still, he chalked this up to the waitress being a 'city girl', obviously unlike his new friend. On a side note, he pondered how city life seemed to be equipping the females around with bigger busts and rears than their country cousins. The zabrak firmly blamed the water.
"I'll take a pitcher of Jawa juice, the wood grilled green skewers, no sauce, and a bowl of hot 'n' spicy warra nuts. Thanks."
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Dec 17, 2015 11:00:29 GMT -5
Raasha had the distinct impression that Bekk didn't like the booth. It was a natural conclusion from the way he kept looking back over at the bar with a knit brow. What Raasha really didn't understand though was why he'd even asked her if he already knew where to sit? It wasn't as if she'd even been in before. Maybe that was another of those foreign conventions. It was a little confusing and tiring. Fortunately though, the waitress was her kinsfolk, and that meant she could simply order in Togruti and skip the possible embarrassment.
When the woman looked to her, pad in hand, with the expectant expression of readiness, Raasha spoke up in her native lilting language.
"Do you have bryaz ribs?" She asked hopefully, referencing one of her favorite game animals, and the one piece of meat therefrom that truly and unambiguously benefited from being cooked. That way the connective tissue almost dissolved, and the meat would fall off the bone. It was good enough for her mouth to water.
The waitress was a little surprised to have the order delivered in her own language, but she replied back fluently.
"Yes, we have half racks and full racks. They come with a sweet and spicy sauce."
Raasha nodded appreciatively, because the true glory of cooked meat was indeed the sauces it came with. When you didn't bother to cook meat most of the time, it meant that it had to be deliciously done when you did. That made it special occasions mostly,
"The half rack please, and I'd like a pitcher of Corvala Gold."
Corvala Gold was Shili's minor alcoholic pride, a beer brewed in Corvala from the various fermentable grains around. It was one of the few local alcohol brands, which did indeed make it something of a matter of pride to her. And to many others for that matter. In all honesty it wasn't that amazing, just a smooth low-alcohol beverage with a pleasant sort of taste if you didn't expect too much. But Togruta gained nothing from the grains anyway, and this was a better use of them.
"Sorry," She apologized to Bekk after the woman walked off with their orders. "My Basic is not very good."
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Dec 17, 2015 11:55:55 GMT -5
One hardly lived on a planet for most of their life without learning the native language to some degree, unless you weren't physically incapable of speaking or understanding it. Thankfully for Bekk, togruta didn't have mandibles or communicate with pheromones. He couldn't fully replicate the language without the lekku to twitch, but he had the spoken part mostly down.
More importantly, he could understand it fluently.
Raasha and the waitress didn't say anything beyond sticking to ordering, but he enjoyed watching the two natives speaking in the tongue of their people. The only downside was a rarely felt sense of not belonging that seemed to come over him. Shili might as well have been his home planet, but he'd still never be a native.
"Don't apologize.." He began slowly, while trying to prepare his mouth for what he was about to attempt. "My Togruti isn't that great. Don't have the lekku for it." Bekk added with a thin smile, finding a little satisfaction just from the fact few tried to master a language around here quite as much him it seemed. At least he had Huttese and Bocce perfected.
"I can understand it just fine though, so you can speak it if you'd feel more comfortable. I'll stick to basic. So...how's your speeder been since you last brought it in."
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Dec 17, 2015 12:25:45 GMT -5
Being told not to apologize wasn't overly surprising, she'd rarely encountered Basic speakers who weren't encouraging about it. However a Zabrak speaking to her in Togruti was something else entirely. Or trying she had to say. It was a bit garbled. She could understand it maybe more or less the same as he could understand her Basic, but there was subtext, layers to Togruti, and a lot of that was outside the limited scope of near-human hearing. It was one of those things most people weren't aware of when it came to Togruta. Of course half the people out there thought they were venomous anyway. No accounting for sense.
At any rate, Bekk could definitely make his orders known properly in a bar or a restaurant, and do just about anything he wanted to on a basic level. Maybe not poetry. That'd be challenging to do. Still, she smiled at him.
"I need the practice," She said in Basic. "Thank you, I know I don't speak good."
It was that she wanted to speak it more. Even if she could babble at him in Togruti all day long, it wouldn't help her Basic any. She needed to get better at it, they needed more customers. Well either that or she had to go back home to her village. The question he'd asked was about her speeder though, and she hadn't used it much since then. She paused to gather her thoughts about it, and then she worked out what she wanted to say in Basic first.
"It sounds normal," Raasha provided. Given her excellent hearing and her memory of what 'normal' was, the speeder did appear to be working right. "It feels normal."
The appraisal wasn't exactly up to proper mechanical levels of accuracy, but given that she'd not known what was wrong with it before aside from sounds, it was about what he could rightly expect. She was no mechanic, and they both knew that. What was more, she didn't even have the rudimentary makings of one. Her skills lay elsewhere, which was just fine because she'd never met a mechanic who could track things the way she could. It was good to know she could fall back on some skills to be proud of. It wasn't some kind of contest either though.
"And you, how is work?"
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