[code]Eriadu, Docking Bay 6_[/code]



“[i]Shriek Hawk[/i] log 97; Year 3003 After the Conquest of Mandalore...”

A feminine voice echoed out from the cockpit of Plug-6 Heavy Fighter. The ship lay in the hangar completely dormant, silently as can be, with only the outside sounds of workers and arriving and departing ships to breaking what would've been a maddening silence. There was a brief moment of pause, as though the person inside the vessel was gathering their thoughts, before they continued their report.

“We have arrived on the planet Eriadu... as much of a dirtball this planet is, it's still a hub where we can resupply and replace the funds or finance them via contract. Zekha's modifications to the lateral and electromotive stabilizers actually worked. To say nothing of the previous fixes made to the navigation deflector system, we now less drag and turbulence in hyperspace and atmospheric entry, and landing has never been smoother. As much as I hate to say it, that [i]shabuir[/i] really pulled through. A day of drinking at the local [i]Ranosca[/i] cantina should've been a good enough reward.”

The woman leaned back in the seat of the cockpit, lifting up and draping over two long, blue tentacles over the back of the chair as she propped her booted feet up onto the console. The tall, blasé twi'lek woman sunk deeper into her chair toward one side, causing her tchin – one of her lekku – to fall back over her shoulder. She continued talking into a stick-shaped recorder that was in her hand.

“I'm on the opposite side of the galaxy as the planet [i]Manda'yaim[/i] now.” She said. “Been as far and wide as a person could get at this point. But even as far as I am from home now...”

A smug little smirk creeped onto her face.

“I haven't had my fill yet. Woorah, signing off. [i]K'oyacyi![/i]”

Silence enveloped the small freighter once more, and Woorah found herself relaxing in its tranquility. Leaning back and closing her eyes after a long journey through hyperspace and finishing all of her preparation before shutting down for the day. Despite Zekha's handiness, it was [i]her[/i] ship, so it was her responsibility to make sure she fulfilled the same tired old rituals to make sure this thing keeps running. Though she had every intention of staking [i]Ranosca[/i] out when they had first landed, the comfort of the darkness, silence, and cozy chair was just... so [i]persuasive.[/i]

Then like a sudden, screeching mynock, her wrist-com crackled to life as Zekha's distinctive voice came through, but she only opened her eyelids slowly to show that her eyes were already rolling around in her head as if she was already anticipating whatever verbal diarrhea was about to come spewing from his upper asshole.

[i]“Hey, Woosie, I think I found something you might be good at. Ever think of dropping in an application and giving me the ship?”[/i]

Hilarious.

[i]“I got us a few credits, in my benevolence I’ll be at the bar, first one or two are on me, depending on if you want something hard or one of those disgusting cocktails you fawn over.”[/i]

Unexpected. Though to be fair, he was probably having a pretty good day – get your ego stroked by a job well done, then be told to go out and play to celebrate. Heavens know they didn't have the money, so he probably stole it off some poor local saps in one way or another. Well hey, they both had their own funds. If he was willing to pay for one or two of her own drinks, then it was no skin off her back. Woorah lazily brought her wrist to her face and spoke into the device, “Ne'tra gal if they got it, Narcolethe if they don't. I'll be out soon.”

She didn't mention anything about how the drinks she fawned over would probably turn the Dug inside out – no need to make him feel small. Well, smaller than usual. Her eyes peered over to one of the lockers between the cockpit and the rest of the ship. Ever the wary and suspicious type, she judged that it would be best to go in armed and armored. After all, she knew the only thing she could expect in the Outer Rim was the unexpected.

[hr]
[code]Eriadu, Ranosca Cantina_[/code]


It took a few minutes to get armored, but minus the jetpack, it took half as long as it otherwise would have. Though she didn't have her entire arsenal with her at the moment, but that was okay; she wasn't wading into a battle or anything. She wore nothing that was too obvious or overt, and the only thing that was in clear sight was one of her blasters holstered to her thigh, but it was clear enough that she was packing enough heat to dissuade anyone from trying to pick a fight with her. It worked exactly as intended when she finally entered the cantina. Not so dramatic was everyone's reaction to her that everyone knew she entered the room, nor did she divide the crowd as she walk through to find her way to her partner-in-crime, but most of the people she brushed past certainly gave her the room she needed when stepping out of her way.

Her glance fell upon the dancers on-stage – [i]'Zekha, gar di'kut'[/i] – and figured he must've walked past the platform at some point. There was certainly a number of interesting people, many of whom she was taller than, so the few who were closer to her height or even taller were people who caught her eye. One such figure was a hairy one leaning back against a wall and observing the room. She visited Kashyyyk once or twice, so she knew a wookie when she saw one. It was just so curious to find one on their own here of all places. She made a mental note to herself to keep that one in mind while she moved through the crowd.

Zekha said he was getting drinks, so the bar...

… it was less a matter of looking for him, and more of a matter of listening for him. Particularly his “you” phrases, as it was only a matter of time until he got someone to either chase him off planet or provoke a cantina-wide brawl. Thankfully, it was obvious it hadn't gotten to that point yet. It didn't take long before she spotted him at one of the far ends of the bar. An empty glass or two stood before him, with another full glass at his side, untouched. Judging from the lack of color that Ne'tra gal had, he probably had Narcolethe waiting for her. Flanking around the bar, she strolled up to his side from behind.

“It's too hard to find some decent Ne'tra gal this side of the galaxy.” She commented, reaching for the glass in front of her. She smelled the drink in front of her and it nearly burned her nose – sure enough, it was Nacrolethe – and she took an eager swig from glass. It wasn't her first choice, but it still tasted like home. But then her nose caught a different scent, one that was much more unpleasant. She peered over and looked into the bowl in front of her partner.

“Chubas? Really?” She remarked disgustedly. She remembered smelling that garbage back in her slave days all the way from Kaburra's chamber. [i]“Yoka to Bantha poodoo.”[/i]