"Poor kids," He commented dryly, lifting his helm up just enough to take a generous sip from his frothing mug of Darellian. It was a good story. He suspected she would have done something on the streets of Grinemak, maybe take out a lone boss ostracized from the cartels from a high position. Not out of his lack of faith in her, but any bounty hunter would want the easiest job for the most money. Just good business. Chasing someone across the galaxy was a lot of leg work, after all. When Jocasta looked at him as if to elaborate, he continued. "Imagine growing up and realizing your dad was forced to be there, and your three half siblings have different moms he knocked up." 

"Somehow I don't think it's too strange for that family," she sniggered, imbibing in some more Nova Tears with delight. She was treating it like a beer, but unless there was some heavy modifications done to her body, she was going to get perilously drunk sooner rather than later. Normally that wouldn't be a problem with a girl who was as shapely as she was, if he had invited her in to sleep with him. But she was a work partner. He wasn't going to make a move unless she did it first, so it was fair to warn her. 

"Careful with that shit, you won't hear the details of the next job." He said, holding his mug aloft and pointing at her with an extended index finger. 

"I'm handling it," she said, patting her chest so as not to burp in front of him. "You look like you could use some more. Does your suit burn calories or are you just big into crossfit?" She giggled. One could practically see the image of Dirk in sweat pants, a tight shirt, and his helm on whilst throwing weighted balls in a thought bubble above her head.  

"When you've been doing what I've been doing for long enough, you don't get a lot of time for sweets. Or drinks for that matter," He said, taking another swig, letting the liquid gold glide down his throat for a concerning amount of time before letting out a pleased grunt. Placing the mug down, he turned her way. "Our target is Decartes Maggred. He's one of those guys who does what he wants because his dad lets him. Little in the way of inhibitions and he's got a mean streak. He'll likely be armed and have men that share his love of killing people who can't fight back. You know, your regular asshole."

Another cadre of drones flew over with a glass and a towel draped around it. He didn't exactly know how those things worked or what led them to act in a way he didn't think programming allowed. Idly, he ran a wet hand over a scar on his upper arm, the helm hiding the small wince he made. It was good to soak his old wounds in the hot tub. He didn't let the tenderness show in his voice. 

"The reward is 4 mil, and a seat at a higher table. If you want to part ways after that, up to you."