"Twenty minutes," Merskiv's pupils went from slits to gleaming round. "Calculating. As long as this guy doesn't fuck around, we might actually make that. As long as -"

Somebody cut.

Triangular hat. Sixteen eyes - no wait, those are [i]painted [/i]on, a halo of eyes all around his skull. A goatee that looked like it had been trimmed with a blaster pistol. A smile with two gold teeth. A suit hooked up with cables and tubes and hissing gasses. Human, somehow, underneath it all, "Don't mind me, loves," he said, opening a wallet that you were sure wasn't his and tucking a fifty credit chip into the front of your shirt. "Just act natural. We're friends, right?"

A doorway suddenly opened and four more Stormtroopers emerged at a jog. Merskiv looked like she was about to commit murder. Talk fast.