Private A night out

[Ragos Terrek]

Some club on Nar Shaddaa

It was madness! Lights flashed in rhythmic patterns. First red, then yellow, then blue, interjected with periods of darkness. Music thumped so loud it shook your teeth and rattled your bones. Conversation was impossible, it was even too loud to think. The assembled mass of bodies knew there was no other choice. No other option…just dance.

So they did for hours, beings from all over the moon moved and grooved with each other, forgetting their problems or their worries or whatever and just letting go, allowing themselves to lose whatever inhibition they may have brought with them.

Exiting the mass of bodies and placing themselves at the bar was a young man with dark skin and emerald green eyes. He wore bright red varactyl skin boots, black polythin pants that fan out wide at the ankles, and a black polythin shirt that had a v-shaped opening that went to the top of his muscular chest.

His head and chest glistened with sweat while he tried to get the bartender droid's attention.

Senna Lonis

 

[Senna Lonis]

Senna Lonis peeled off her stained clinic jacket and draped it over her arm as she stepped into the pounding heart of the club. The air was thick with sweat and neon haze, each flash of red, yellow, and blue illuminating her like the specter of a starfighter caught in a hyperdrive. Her loose black top—a whisper of mesh—clung to her form, and the short skirt revealed legs still trembling from twelve hours standing over hyperbaric wards.

She slid into her heels with a practiced flick of her ankle, feeling the familiar tug of anticipation as her pulse synced to the bassline.


A grizzled Rodian bouncer barred her way, hand outstretched, scavenged credits gleaming in his claws. "Entry's five credits," he rasped, voice crackling over the speakers.

Senna tipped her chin, lifted dark lashes, and used her wrist com to complete the digital transaction. As the Rodian confirmed, she caught her reflection in a polished steel pillar: emerald eyes bright with mischief, sweat-slicked hair haloed by strobe lights, lips curved in a promise of tonight's escape.


She moved forward, hips swaying in time with the rhythm, and the crowd parted just enough to let her slip through—another story in the endless dance. At the bar, the chrome-plated counter gleamed under violet light.

Senna settled onto a stool, the world behind her dissolving into the beat. Here, for one night, she wasn't a medic patching wounds or soothing cries—she was pure motion, pure freedom, and she was ready to lose herself in the music.

 

[Ragos Terrek]

"Hey fuck you, trick." Ragos practically yelled at the server droid the third time it scooted past him on its one single wheel to serve other customers.

The fething thing must be custom programmed or some chit cuz Ragos could swear that after he cussed the droid it purposefully stopped in front of his place in the bar just long enough for Rag to start to open his mouth to order before the droid zoomed off again to serve a rodian couple that Ragos fething knew had come to the bar after him.

Tonight Ragos was at some top side club on Nar Shaddaa. It was newer probably less than a decade old with some chit name, Kyber, he was pretty sure that's what it was called. Ragos didn't know when it became common to name a nightclub something so silly.

Really, Kyber?

This was not Ragos' normal spot. He'd never been here a day in his life and a good bit of Ragos life was spent in clubs. His pops had run a top side joint called The Starving Sarlacc for Valturla The Hutt. Pops tried to keep his working for a gangster a secret, Ragos was never sure why, everyone on this fething moon dealt with some criminal syndicate or another, but that was pops. Compared to the Sarlacc, Kyber sucked, man.

Ragos wasn't here to be critiquing the place or whatever, he was here to dance, and drink, and keep his eyes open.

It's a gooood thing they open

Ragos thought as he watched the server droid slide over to the bar's newest patron, ignoring Ragos again as it did.

A dark haired woman had taken a seat at the bar. Even in the chitty strobe lighting Ragos could see that her features were sharp enough to cut. Ragos gave the bar and the surrounding area a quick look over and proceeded to slide a few seats down to sit next to the raven haired woman. By the looks of it he still had time to kill and better to do that with some company.

"A water," Ragos cut off the droid as it tried to take the woman's order. "And two of whatever she orders." Ragos placed a small stack of credits on the bar for the droid to take before turning his attention to the stranger.

"Name's Ghost," he introduced himself. "What's yours?"

Senna Lonis

 

[Senna Lonis]

Senna had just opened her mouth to order when the voice cut in—low, confident, and a little too smooth to be entirely innocent.

"A water. And two of whatever she orders."

Her gaze shifted sideways, lashes fluttering like she wasn't entirely sure if she'd just been rescued from the droid or ambushed. The man was already placing credits on the bar like they belonged there, his dark skin glowing under the violet lights, his emerald green eyes watching her with interest that didn't exactly hide behind the polite smirk.

"Name's Ghost," he said, smooth as the synth-jazz echoing beneath the bass line. "What's yours?"

Senna blinked, then tilted her head with a sly little smile playing at her lips. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, leaned forward just a touch—not enough to give away anything important, but just enough to let the mesh of her top catch the light.

"Ghost, huh?" she repeated, biting back a soft laugh. "That's subtle. What, were Shadow and Whisper already taken?" She paused, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. "You know I could've ordered poison just now, right? You really gonna let some stranger pick your fate on a club night?"

She leaned back again, crossing one leg over the other, her heel dangling lazily from her toe.

"But alright. Since you like living dangerously—" She offered her hand, palm soft but fingers strong. "I'm Senna."

Another beat passed, and she softened just a little, lips curving as she added, "Daytime clinic aid. I patch up people who love finding excuses for their next 'kick.' Blaster burn, swoop crash, lover's quarrel gone sideways—you name it, I've seen it. Nothing glamorous. Basically a medic with more sass and less respect."

Her eyes glimmered in the strobe haze. "And tonight, Ghost, I'm off-duty."

 

[Ragos Terrek]

"Chit, I don't know. I ain't name me." He told her just slightly annoyed at how quick she was to mock him.

He weren't lying, Ragos didn't choose his own street name, he'd earned it, first by being so good at the B and E that he got the reputation for getting in and out of place without anyone ever noticing, like a ghost or some chit and the name stuck taking on a new meaning when he graduated from home invasions to trigger puller. It was a good name and it used ta mean some chit on Nar Shadda, at least in certain places, but it was probably a good thing that it ain't mean chit here considering he was trying to keep a low profile and his head on his shoulders.


"Yeah, I took a real risk in assuming you ain't order poison for yo self." He said a little more dismissively than he'd planned as the droid dropped off their drinks and Ragos took a sip of the water.

Ragos' conversation companion leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs, and Ragos chanced a quick glance to drink her in with his eyes lingering just a bit on her high heel dangling playfully at the end of her foot.

She offered her hand and her name and Rag was glad to receive both. His pride was stung a bit earlier when she teased him but that ages ago really and truthfully, Ragos was always more interested in a conversation with a chick when they showed some spirit.

"Nice to meet you, Senna." Ragos said.

He was finna ask if she was from round here or what but was saved the effort of asking when Senna continued speaking. She told him how she worked as a medic at some day clinic on the moon.

"Aw chit, so you like helping people, huh?" He asked

Medical clinics weren't unheard of on Nar Shaddaa, chit everyone got sick or you know shot, so the demand was there and everything. Ragos couldn't help but wonder though which clinic it might actually be and who had credits behind it cuz in his mind a med clinic meant one thing above the others: Spice.

It would be too easy to hide the kinda spice that got you locked up among the chit they used to make medicine. Part of him felt like an idiot for not setting up something like it back when he was big chit on Coruscant and another part really wanted to find this clinic and see if he still had the knack for B and E that earned him his name.

"And tonight, Ghost, I'm off duty," she finished, bringing his thoughts back from the idea of a score and onto her.

"Off-duty and ready to shake some booty, huh?" He laughed. Ragos had been told in the past that he was charming, really it was just a chit load of un earned confidence but who was gone tell him any different. "If you were hoping for a night alone, you know, just let me know, but I think, you and me, we could have fun if you want."

Senna Lonis