[hr][h2][color=8C4E47]R Y M I[/color][/h2][hr]
[color=8C4E47][i]Better him than me.[/i][/color]

There was only one sentiment on Rymi Ketres’ mind as the Quarren suffered the wrath of Hutt brutality. It was a selfish and cynical thought, but after ten or so years of being out in the outer rim she had gotten used to the sentiment. The heroic spirit of the Jedi was dead and it did nobody, certainly not herself, any favors to invoke it. As much as Rymi Ketres was a child of the late Galactic Republic she was also a child of practicality and sense; most of all, she was a child of enjoying [i]living.[/i]

In terms of the starcraft they had “acquired”, Rymi wasn’t really all that impressed. The E-9 was a good scout vessel, but in terms of the type of missions she imagined the Hutt’s were going to force her to do it was pretty inadequate unless it was extensively modified; and modified in the terminology of the black market at that. She would’ve preferred to be flying a Corellian YT or other alternative but the choice really wasn’t an option so she would have to make do. As the expression in her very minute circle of associates went— if it can fly, Rymi Ketres can fly it.

[quote=Mus Rosh]“We got five minutes to bring all the supplies onboard. You got another five to find yourself a hammock to call home. After that we’ll all meet in the kitchen so I can tell you what fish we hunting.”[/quote]
Rymi silently nodded as she followed the rest of the “ingrates” that she were effectively her comrades-in-arms to what was the ship’s personal quarters; though if you asked her it was as packed as the barracks she slept in during the end of the Clone Wars. 

Once inside, the woman decided upon picking the least relevant of the cots available and lockboxes she stored her crap before moving on. 

[i][color=8C4E47]It’s not like I’ll be sleeping much, anyway.[/color] [/i]

The blonde-haired smuggler frowned as she kicked her foot back before pressing herself against the walls inside the kitchen. At this moment there were many feelings travelling in the corners of her mind and few of them were pleasant, less alone sensible. While Rymi realized such thoughts were definitely inflammatory and [i]stupid[/i] she still felt they were inescapable. It was hard not to have murder fantasies enacted in your head when the person who held your chains was pretending to be a “leader” and part of the “team” only a few paces away. How would things go for the Zabrak enforcer if she were killed before she could execute the baradium charges that were in the men and women before her? 

Of course Rymi knew that the Hutt Cartel was smarter than to threaten so haphazardly; without a back-up installed. But it was still tempting. Ignoring her thoughts as she crossed her arms, eyeing the Zabrak over Rymi decided to be the first to break the ice so to speak. 

[color=8C4E47]“Well, we’re not late.”[/color]