Wrench wheeled up to the Dejarik table, bumping his nose-wheel into the bench, waking Fel from a light, image-filled slumber (his mind turning in circles about the heist, as it had been ever since opening the wave from Abilene… Fel was aware that this couldn’t continue, not if he wanted to be at his best for the most important job they were likely to ever pull off.) The Astro droid bleeped and whirred that they had a full house, and Fel thanked his dented, multicoloured copilot, rising from his seat, cursing that he’d let his head hang down as he snoozed, rubbing at the new knot in his neck. He slapped the droid on part of his sparsely-painted, green radome, rubbing at some carbon scoring and chipped, missing paint, showing the unadorned duralumin beneath. [color=F7941D]“Mebbe time for a new coat of paint, tin man… How do you feel about orange?”[/color] Wrench replied that he was fine just the way he was, and that orange was reserved for reactor droids. The binary came out with an inflection that made it seem like he was judging Fel’s terrible, derisive choice. In reality, Fel just thought Wrench would look good in a burnt orange, and that he hadn’t seen too many Astro droids in that colour …now he knew why. [color=F7941D]“You’re right, ‘Co.’ You’re just fine the way you are. Prep us for liftoff, Wrench. We’re heading across this moon to get a passenger, soon as we’re able.”[/color] Wrench acknowledged, and spun off for the bridge.

He moved aft to the workshop, finding Jet and the Kid, squaring away their take. [color=F7941D]“Find everything?”[/color] he inquired. The question was simple enough, and there was more than enough gear here to indicate that they had indeed found all they needed, and more… but reading between the lines, Fel fixed Jet with a glance that said more than the words could. He was asking about something more personal than the workshop. He moved over toward Zane, running his fingers over the surface of the gauntlet. [color=F7941D]“This hers, partner? …you wear it well, Zane.”[/color] The pilot looked at the various tools and functions of the glove, seeing how it could be made to be modular. [color=F7941D]“...make this thing work for [i]you[/i], Kid. It’s only useful if it does what you need it to.”[/color] He cast a wan smile the Kid’s way, clapping him on the shoulder, before turning to Jet. [color=F7941D]“We’re going to gather up Morrik Venn.”[/color] Fel knew Jet would remember the gambler they once transported out of Toydaria. [color=F7941D]“Be on your guard. He’ll steal anything that isn’t bolted down, and as much as I’d rather cut his hands off for trying… we kind of need him.”[/color] Fel nodded at his old friend. He knew there was more that needed saying, but it wasn’t the time. As he made his way toward the Port hold, he mused to himself, just within earshot of the two men in the workshop, [color=F7941D]“Still… we pull off the heist, we could afford to cut off his hands, and just buy him replacements…”[/color]

He considered looking in on ‘the girls…’ but even the thought of referring to them as such made his skin crawl. The two of them were less ‘girls’ and more sabre-tooth cats... Something deadly, at any stretch. In any case, he knocked on Aellyn’s bunk door, calling through rather than waiting for permission to enter. [color=F7941D]“We’re taking off shortly. Not breaching atmo, just relocating so I can collect Venn. Anything you need to clear up before we’re airborne, now’s the time…”[/color] It wasn’t the clearest of instructions, not the most up-and-up method of passing on their itinerary… but it would do, until they had Venn aboard, there was no point in sitting down to discuss the finer points of their shitshow. 

He returned to the flight deck in time for Wrench to tell him he’d taken far too long, and that they weren’t efficiently managing their time, to which Fel simply sighed. He lifted off, buttoning up the ship and pulling up the ‘gear. Flying across Nar Shaddaa was an exercise in focus. There was so much that could distract – even more than on Coruscant, in Fel’s estimation. “Just another pristine tower” only held his attention for so long. But the oddities of ‘Shaddaa, the abject poverty slammed up against the opulence, the violence and the excess. In a way it was a visual feast, but it was also a sad trainwreck that made simply being here, difficult and painful. Galdaart couldn’t imagine living here for any real length of time. 

It took a little over a quarter of an hour to get to a landing pad in the Corellian Sector. He set down, dropping the ramp, and showing the dock-master the appropriate paperwork (for a ship called the Unita-7.) Credits changed hands. The UA would be fine for the hour he’d be gone, though the dock-master looked at the ship, and by extension, Fel, as something he might’ve stepped in. 

Galdaart strapped his Power5 to his thigh, and disappeared into the crowd, turning up the collar of his jacket to the wind. He was inside the ‘Grinning Jackal’ a few minutes later, having joined the crowd that had gathered to see Morrik Venn play. By the looks of him, he was many, many hours into his session, hair touseled, eyes bleary behind his black-lensed glasses, no fewer than three empty glasses in front of him. It took some doing, but Fel moved around the table, moving amongst the crowd, to a place where Venn would be able to see him. Another few minutes passed, another hand won, before Venn took note of the spacer, nodding almost imperceptibly. He motioned to the pit boss, and asked for a recess to go to the ‘fresher. The crowd dissipated a little as the action slowed, Venn’s mountain of chips neatly stored away for “safe-keeping” while the card-sharp excused himself. 

Fel stepped outside, leaning against a lamp-post across from the Grinning Jackal. The alarm went off a few moments later, but by that point, Venn had already appeared beside him, wearing a borrowed overcoat. Fel let him sweat a moment, in no rush to depart. [color=2E5CD5]”Fierfek, Fel – If we’re going, let’s get gone, already!”[/color] The man was twitchy, and Fel smiled up at him. [color=F7941D]”Not before you pay me back what you owe me, you dirty son of a bantha…”[/color] He was calm, collected, and worst of all – patient. Security was pouring out the front doors of the Jackal now, and Morrik Venn was no doubt feeling the squeeze. He handed over a bag, which Fel hefted, glanced into briefly. [color=F7941D]“Your chariot awaits, Mr. Venn…”[/color] he flourished an invitation to walk back toward the UA, which Venn all-too-hastily accepted. They walked away just as the authorities pulled up in front of the Jackal, blocking the main doors and running inside. Bystanders were taking note, and crowding around, just as Fel and Venn slipped away. [color=2E5CD5]”Took you long enough, you bastard.”[/color] Fel smiled thinly, not bothering to look at the man sweating beside him. [color=F7941D]“How much did you take the place for?”[/color] They walked in silence for a bit, before Venn replied, under his breath, [color=2E5CD5]“Not nearly as much as we’re about to pull…”[/color]

They were back aboard the UA within the hour, and Fel lifted off, blasting offworld and into hyperspace, with Venn under lock and key (and the watchful eye of Jet.)