A Wolf Among Sheep

[Lancer Damar]

He wasn't sure why she was here in this part. Probably was blissfully unaware of the fact she was being followed. Or even had that much of a price on her head to be bumped up the 'to kill' list. Lancer pulled the slide back on his pistol, doing a brass check as he walked forward. She was about thirty meters in front of him. Light rain. Minimal visibility. Perfect time to put a round in the back of her skull. He thumbed the safety off as he got within eight meters. He angled the weapon at chest level from his hip, and made his move. He dug the suppressor into her would-be assassin, a Rodian by the name of Filch.

Filch urked forward as Lancer dumped the sub-sonic rounds into his squishy important parts. He walked behind [member="Switch"], wrapping his arm around her arm. Arm in arm. Like a cute couple. People weren't looking for a couple, they were looking for a woman.

"Nice to see you again. You need my help."

 

[Switch]

Switch squinted up in annoyance at the light rain, the occasional droplet running down her lenses as she pulled her dark coat just a little tighter over her shoulders. The protective garment she had acquired on Ansion was a perfect fit, but it was more suited to protect the slicer from shrapnel and blasters than keep her shielded from the rain. It was enough to put a further damper on the fugitive's already sour mood, but it wasn't the weather that had her on edge. She was also being followed.

One could not expect to flick the Hutt Cartel on its proverbial nose without repercussions, and Switch was more than savvy enough to keep tabs on her updating situation. She knew it was a steep gamble to come back to a place so mired in their influence, but the money was good here and she had always been stubborn. It also did the overgrown slugs little credit to associate with hacks like that Rodian behind her, the gun-for-hire having given himself away several turns back. Filch had practically left a glowing trail behind himself tracking the woman down, pinging her device when he had been stupid enough to seek her out through the net. The plan was to round the next corner and wait, before finally squashing the annoying bug-man.

Naturally it never came to that, the insectoid's final, seizing breath all but muffling the shots that seemed to kill him. Now the woman was officially on edge, the sub-sonic rounds only stood out to her since she was on alert, and any footfalls to accompany them were totally covered but the suddenly too-loud rainfall. The caliber of pursuer seemed to have gone up, and Switch figured it was time to change her method. Before she could turn and pull on the newcomer, an arm worked its way around hers in an unrelenting hold, the stranger offering his so-called aid in a voice that rang a bell in her head.

"Hey! Get your-!" Before she could take a swing at the stranger's jaw, hazy memories of drugs and a fight flashed behind her covered eyes. "...right. Never got your name before." Bringing a hand up to accompany her clutched arm, the woman leaned her weight against her companion in a practiced fashion that might deter less voyeuristic eyes.

[member="Lancer Damar"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

"You can call me Happy."

He turned into an alley. Couples going down an alley here- or at least, an attractive woman and a man going down an alley here, usually were left alone. People had to pay extra to watch. Lancer swiveled off the woman and checked both ends of the alley, waiting about a minute before coming back to her. His hands rested on his hips, before a hand ran through his hair. Not out of stress- he was trying a new thing with his hair. Required him to rake his hand through it to keep the look up.

His pine-green eyes fell onto the Hapan, blinking entirely only once. He was glaring at her. Somewhat annoyed, somewhat with the usual I-Kill-People-Well-For-A-Living stare.

"You know how much your bounty is right now?"

It was rhetorical. Unless she checked her bounty in the past 24 hours, that is. It had been tripled. Lancer took an interest to make sure she didn't end up with a few more holes in her body.

[member="Switch"]

 

[Switch]

"Happy?"

She cocked an incredulous eyebrow at the man through the cascade of dark hair that had fallen over one of her eyes, covered eyes following him as he seemed to survey the area. Justified or not, the assassin's paranoia caused the barest hint of a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth, slender fingers tucking an unlit cigarette between her lips to curb the growing urge to laugh.

Happy, huh? He was certainly serious enough for the name.

Her composure nearly crumbled when he stood before her again, passing his fingers through his hair in a routine that could only be fashionable in nature. As if to prove some ironic point, the woman released a burst of air from the side of her mouth, haphazardly clearing the fallen tresses from her view without ejecting the cigarette from her lips. All the while he was looking at her with the intensity of a professional murderer, the dressing down of those pine greens causing a knot in her stomach that whispered lust and violence in her ear.

When he spoke again, his interrogative tone caused the woman's lips to close tighten into a thoughtful pout, her head tilting to the side as she ran some numbers in her head. She was normally good about keeping tabs on these kinds of things, but it had been several days since she had actually pulled up her own sheet. It would stand to reason that the impressive figure had gone up, the Hutt standard of vengeance being what it is.

"Can't say that I do." Her wight shifted to one foot, hands slipping into the roomy pockets of her trench coat as she mulled the bounty that was on her head. On a different day it might have been a horrifying prospect, but today it was just one more thing to keep in mind.

[member="Lancer Damar"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

"It's high enough to warrant two more coming after you right now."

He pushed her against the wall- hard. Public displays of affection were not outlawed, but in decent, common society they made people uncomfortable. Something about sexuality, lust, or decency. Somewhere along the lines, people didn't want to watch it happen. So Lancer leaned his head towards her neck, shielding her face from the man passing at the front of the alley. He didn't want to stick around for the attractive woman in the dark alley and the man in the jacket for the show to start.

He leaned his head off of her neck when he left. They were circling this place like sharks. Her bounty was high enough that they were openly targeting her, just trying to beat the competition.

"Where have you been hiding out for the past few days?"

Lancer dropped his hands from her arms, and looked back around. They hadn't found out where she was staying yet- otherwise it would've received a nice little package. She would've opened the door, and the firebomb would've burnt her to a crisp. A nice crisp, and someone would've come by and ripped out her teeth so she'd be a charred corpse with no way to ID her. His eyes wandered around. Searching. Assessing. They were a constant movement. Partly due to war. Partly due to survival. He was keeping a watchful eye on either side of the alley, making sure no other would-be assassins were coming for his attractive Hapan friend. Friend. Friend was a stretch. He wasn't sure- he could stop kidding himself. He knew exactly why he was here and making sure she wasn't going to die.

He was just polite enough not to say it out loud.


[member="Switch"]

 

[Switch]

“Two, huh? ...So wha-!?“

The cigarette fell from her parted lips, breath catching in her throat as her back collided with the wall behind her. All of a sudden this “Happy” was well within her space, his breath running across her neck in a manner that caused her hair to stand on end. She fought a rising urge to strike out at him, her body going ridged against the cold metal as he grasped the dark material covering her upper arms.

Dropped my cig... nerf herder!

That voice filled her ears again, the probing question serving to pull the slicer back into focus. Her arms now free to move, Switch brought a hand up to dial up the functionality of her goggles, covering the motion as best she could by tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

“I got a place.”

The outlaw had been squatting in a low-standard apartment complex while she conducted her business on the planet. It was hardly out of the way, but in a dangerous enough area that she could get lost in the shifting tide of squatters and refugees as she came and went. The room itself was relatively Spartan as far as comforts went, but Switch had learned a long time ago to survive in conditions other might find unlivable. All she needed was a minute to work on the door lock, and it was as safe as a mid to high range bunker, at least from more technological invasions.

“It’s not too far...this way.”

[member="Lancer Damar"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

She lead the two to her place, and Lancer entered first, using the code he had been provided by [member="Switch"]. The two came at the same time, but Lancer felt it was smarter for him to go first. He paced from either side to side, and gestured the handgun around. No bombs, no traps, no lurking bad guys in her place. He locked the door behind them and shut the blinds, running a hand through his hair. He turned to look at her, placing his hands on his hips.

"You have the same bounty as most bounty hunters make over their careers right now."

He took out her cigarettes- slyly pulling them from her own pocket. He took one for himself and one for her. He placed it between her lips as he talked, and lit the two at the same time.

"Obviously, this is a problem. I however, have a solution."

Lancer paced away from her and removed his jacket, just in a plain black shirt, a local band popular on Nar Shadda's seedier music venues. Lancer was a hipster and a killer, who would've thought. Lancer eyed the woman, crossing his wirey-physique-like arms. Lancer wasn't a big man, he was very lean. Lean muscle had it's use more in the field than bulk did, anyway. Lancer turned his back, toking on his cigarette. He smirked and looked at her.

"We are however, finally alone..."

[member="Switch"]

 

[Switch]

Switch closed the door behind her as the assassin entered the small apartment. She figured his type always took a while to feel out a new area, and she needed a few moments to reengage her custom security. Her fingers moved rapidly across the interface, practiced digits applying layer after layer of encryption until she was satisfied any pursuers would be unable to enter. It wasn’t the most elegant setup, but it was cheap and effective for what was essentially a disposable hideaway. She finished her process just in time for the man to revisit the door, giving the lock an inspection of his own. He seemed satisfied enough, if a repeat of that thing with his hair was any indication.

“That’s all they want for me?" She expelled a breath through her teeth, rolling her obscured eyes. "Must have pissed off the runt.”

The slicer couldn’t deny a certain pride at the recent bump to her bounty, biting her lip in a half smile as she shook her head at the assassin. It hadn’t felt like she had done much to merit such a figure, but Hutts will be Hutts. She truly hadn’t realized just how high it had gotten in the last few days, but it was easy to play it cool in the presence of a stranger.

The woman took a half step back as her guest entered her space once again, this time being so bold as to fish her smokes out of her jacket pocket. She made no move to resist as he placed the cigarette between her lips, an incredulous pout gracing her features as he took one for himself as well. She took a long drag of the paper-wrapped chemicals, holding the assassin’s gaze as he spoke. He had certainly expressed some interest in her good graces in the past, but it would be idiotic not to acknowledge the timing of his arrival today.

A solution, huh? I'll just bet.

It was only when the assassin left her personal space once more that Switch began to move again, releasing the lungful of smoky air. Once more it seemed like quitting was for quitters, the woman filling her lungs once more as she made her way over to the other side of the small dwelling. With a distinct lack of flourish, the woman shed the dark coat from her shoulders, revealing the winding tattoos running around the slicer's forearms. Not bothering to shed the compact equipment pouch and blaster from the back of her belt, the woman turned on an armored heel to approach the guest in her apartment.

“Well, don't leave us in suspense!”

Squaring up in front of the man, Switch suppressed a chuckle at the disarming innocence of that shirt being worn by a person like him. She was suddenly very aware of her own exposed skin, absently tugging at bottom of her snug, grey undershirt to cover a bit more of the exposed bottom of her toned abdomen. Once she was satisfied it wouldn't go any lower, she masked the action by thumbing the skull on her belt buckle, before crossing her arms under her breasts to mirror the assassin's pose.

As he said, they were alone now...

[member="Lancer Damar"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

"How do you feel about killing a Hutt?"

Innocent enough question, he supposed. A fair one too. Because that was his solution. Either that, or threaten a Hutt. But then again, it was easier to remove the problem. That, and Lancer knew a certain someone who wanted what the Hutt had. He was going to pay Lancer to remove the Hutt anyway, or dismantle his operation and let the man take over. He didn't have a name, but Lancer didn't need one. One of his contingencies was clearing a few bounties that the Hutt had. Lancer picked twelve names at random, not including @Switch. The move was to throw off anyone who would try and identify Lancer. If thirteen bounties were removed, and nobody knew why, who was to say which one Lancer was protecting? Thirteen people, especially ones hiding from Hutts, was a lot. Lancer had played a fair amount of cards to make sure nobody found out who he was, where he came from or even his real name. All the records he found were deleted. Maybe there was something floating around from the Blackblades- but as far as everyone in the galaxy knew, Lancer Damar died on Coruscant, and was listed as MIA.

And then Happy came along and started killing people, getting paid for each soul he robbed of life.

"Among a few other things."

He ran a hand through his hair. Lancer, despite the shirt, was far from innocent. Then again, so was the woman before him. Maybe that's why he found her so alluring. Maybe that's why he went halfway across the planet to make sure she didn't get whacked. Maybe that's why he killed a person in cold blood. Maybe that's why he leaned in and put either hand on her biceps. Maybe that's the reason he kissed her.

Or maybe, Lancer was learning how to be human. Hardly anything was left in him. Greed and ruthlessness caused him to be cold. There was an essential element of a stormtrooper in his appearance, from his jawline to the way he stood. But it also stole his humanity. Stole his innocence in the dark tide of war. The Blackblades robbed him of identity, replaced it with a number and a rank. The things he did kept him up at night. Lancer, at one point, begged for forgiveness to a divinity that he could not name. But that was before he felt the immense pleasure of commas after numbers in his account. He replaced his soul with a wallet. But maybe, the equally, if slightly less, deplorable woman could turn a few gears that had grown dust within his mind.

 

[Switch]

"Killing a Hutt..."

Ever since her first kill over a decade ago, that traumatic moment where "Switch" had come into being, the former pirate had killed more men and women than she could ever hope to remember. It had always been a so simple, the bodies she left in her wake meaning nothing to her as she moved on to the next prize. She had made her fortune climbing to the top of that wretched pile of victims. Young or old? Useless details. Innocent or guilty? Someone else's problem. There was just them and her. Anything more complicated proved far beyond her experience or understanding, but now she was trying to change.

Switch never figured out exactly what had happened, but all of a sudden she could no longer look at herself. The life she had known since she was a girl had been spoiled in what felt like an instant, and all the treasures, drugs and companionship in the galaxy couldn't fix what had been broken. For the very first time in years, she was aware if just how much she had lost. She left the very next day, spending the next two years in some aimless search for the answer to a question she had long forgotten. In spite of herself, however, Switch knew of no other way to live, so it was no shock when she found herself once more with murder on the brain.

It was stupid and childish to think she could ever change. Why should she have to bend over backwards in some vain attempt to be good when the entire galaxy seemed to want her dead? Even her recent, desperate attempt at faking her own death and eliminating her former self had ended in personal failure, so great was the call to act on her whims. People like her couldn't change, and neither could the galaxy, so if all it took to save herself was killing some disgusting, greedy slug, maybe it was just meant to be.

It was no great surprise things turned out this way. After all, murder was as easy as breathing to someone like her. All that mattered in the end was doing whatever it took to come out on top. Why shouldn't she get to do whatever she wanted?

"...It feels good."

She took one last smoky drag, tossing the unfinished cigarette as the man entered her personal space, taking hold of the exposed skin of her biceps. This time she did not flinch, slender fingertips working their way up that stupid tee shirt of his as the gap between their bodies vanished, caressing that handsome jaw as she met his lips head on. The contact made her shiver, her eyes fluttering closed behind the lenses of her goggles. Maybe she had been wasting her time being good these last two years. Taking whatever she wanted came so much easier to her, and the benefits were already rolling in. A bad man for a bad girl.

Being good is so overrated...

[member="Lancer Damar"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

Feelings. Emotions. A blissful rush he hadn't felt in years. Then again, with a woman like her, maybe never. Maybe this was the first time Lancer was experiencing something like this. Practiced hands, dexterous and deadly, reached up to remove her goggles. He noticed the light in the room. It was bright, but not entirely too bright. His mind clicked again. Hapans were beautiful in every way, and also- they couldn't see in the dark. Made things harder for a person like @Switch. She was a stranger in a strange land. The goggles weren't to dim the light as he thought, but to make it to where she could see. But she didn't need to see far. He locked eyes with hers, brushing his lips against hers again. She was hard in some places, a well-muscled figure of a woman who might've been as dangerous as he was in some regards.

Her touch was electrifying. Drugs weren't even close to what Lancer was experiencing here. This was pure electric, an energy unmatched by anything he had done. Any drug he had taken paled in comparison to when she put her fingers on his chest. Perhaps it was the longevity the absence of what he was experiencing here. Perhaps it was the rush of sex and violence. The two were inescapably linked in the psychological process of humans, and species as a whole.

She tasted like cigarettes and lip gloss. Like soft rain and girly soap. He was attuned to many things. The softness of her skin. The cloth on the shirt on her back. He was aware he was as clothed as she was. He rectified that in a few moments. She pushed him around, until they fell on her bed, and their bodies intertwined. The minutes felt like seconds between them. The hour felt like only a brief moment in their lives. But it was probably the most fulfilling experience that Lancer had in years. Lancer lay next to Switch, covered partially by the sheets of her bed.

"I was saying...a Hutt. A Hutt that has a bounty on you..."

A hand reached up to run it through her jet-black hair. It was idle, but...soothing. Her presence was comforting. Something clicked inside Lancer that had not been there for quite some time. A part of him told him that attachments were dangerous and that they could be a liability. But another part of him wanted to make sure that he never left this bed. Part of him wanted to spend the rest of his days in her brightly-lit world. But reality was damning. Lancer was going to go back to what he knew and what he did. This was a brief respite, his ship gaining a break in the storm. Or at least, he thought so.

"Should die so you're bounty-free. And I get paid."

Hello. My name is human. Sort of.

 

[Switch]

The woman blinked rapidly, chocolate eyes failing to adjust to the warm light of her small apartment. She had always slept with some form of illumination, making a point of keeping any place she stayed well lit at all times, but it was nothing compared to the familiar, orange glow behind her trusty lenses. In spite of her shortcoming, Switch barely even considered herself a hapan, having visited the capital planet of her species on only one occasion to a rather unpleasant reception. It spoke volumes that she hadn't shot the the man the very moment his fingers touched the expensive eye wear, the slicer having paid the price on numerous occasions for letting them slip from her head in a fight.

It was darker in the space between them, the closeness of their bodies preventing the droning corner lights from entering the shared space. It looked to her weakened eyes like twisting, inky shadows, the deepest of umbras coiling in the precious little space between their chests. It caused the woman's hair to stand on end, bumps rising from her arms to her neck as the breath caught in her throat. It was a more instinctual action than anything else, however, her body conditioned to resist that frightful darkness, but right now she was not afraid. Slender fingers dug into her companion's collar, her chest flattening against his to kill that lingering shadow as she took those lips again.

Experienced hands got to work, deceptively soft fingers running down that silly band logo before vanishing under the hem of the assassin's shirt. They wasted no time, shedding garments with surgical precision as she forced her guest in the direction of her bunk. Weapons and gear littered the floor in their wake, nothing left to separate the pair as the slicer pushed him down onto the mattress. It was compact, yet comfortable, providing more than enough room for two bodies when personal space was no longer an issue.

It was a dance with which both participants were intimately familiar, each having ample opportunity to demonstrate their best steps. For the longest time no words were exchanged, but none were required for Switch to find her voice. The two of them had moved beyond simple communication, working in tandem to forget the existence of yesterday and tomorrow. It was just what the slicer needed, and just like all good things, it was over too soon.

For several minutes everything was still, killer's fingers running across her dark hair as she breathed across that toned chest. She had no idea where her cigarettes had ended up, but the warm body, only partially obscured by her own, could still provide some comfort for her steadying heartbeat. It would soon be time to get back to being adults, but she saw no reason why she couldn't take just a few more minutes to relax.

"Mmm... tell me more." There was still a plan to go over, after all, and getting up was always a pain in the ass.

[member="Lancer Damar"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

Their dance ended and the music stopped, or at least, slowed. What was once a chaotic movement, now became a slow, relaxing waltz. He idly ran his fingers through her hair. So soft. Raven-colored locks fell between his hands like water. He hadn't known beauty like this in quite some time. She was beautiful in a different way. Beautiful in her honesty, in her lack of inhibitions. By her ingenuity and her tenacity. And the things he did to him in the bed were also, beyond compare.

"Well, I have two plans. One involves shooting, the other...guile."

Stealth and guile. He leaned back, his toned form shifting to face her on the bed. For a pair of killers, they seemed...connected. It was as if he was meant to be here, with her alone in the bed. Or maybe it was just the great sex.

[member="Switch"]

 

[Switch]

Switch pushed her palms against Happy’s chest, the haphazard covering of sheets falling away as she straddled the man below her. The night's activities had done wonders for her sour mood, an excited smile tugging at the corners of her swollen lips. With a puff of air, she cleared the fallen hair from her eyes face, whipping her head back when a few strands clung to the sweat on her forehead. She was feeling the lingering traces of adrenaline in her fingers, an urge to drink, smoke and fight tickling her spine in a way that made her toes curl and her back arch.

“Shooting’s fun! Kinda liking door number two, though."

There was a definite appeal to the more violent approach. There was a certain catharsis that came with looking an enemy in the eyes when you killed them, and the idea of rushing over and dispatching the problem was more than a little attractive. It would be a risk, however, and gun play had never been the woman's forte. She could handle herself with a blaster, but she was infinitely more effective when she got into melee range, and you needed a certain amount of room to properly strangle a Hutt. Switch had always been more effective as a saboteur, her slicing abilities more than compensating for her lack of soldiering ability.

She allowed her head and shoulders to fall forward, abandoning her upright posture to lean on her elbows, locking eyes with the man beneath her. "Guile, you said?"

[member="Lancer Damar"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

"Door number one gets us close.."

A hand traveled up her back, appreciating the deep curves, and cuts from her slender, muscular figure. The hills and valleys felt smooth in his hand, and he pulled her down to place his lips to her neck. His voice was coarse, and it whispered into her ear his devious charm, his undeniable allure- and the deadly nature he presented oozed off of him as if it were fire from an inferno.

"But door number two gets us what we want, and we get to enjoy it."

He rolled her onto her back, his pine-green eyes locking onto the Hapan's eyes.

"Hutts have enemies everywhere. I intend to exploit a get-together in order to cause chaos.." He planted kisses along her neck, pinning her down by her wrists. "And getting rid of a mutually hated Hutt in order to spark a criminal takeover for several vested parties in which you need not know the name."

[member="Switch"]

 

[Switch]

The woman's eyes fluttered closed, biting down harshly on the side of her bottom lip to stifle the groan building in her throat. Normally, Switch would not have allowed such a position, the idea of being pinned and restrained altogether unsettling to the former pirate. There was a familiar rising urge to retaliate building in her breast, to yank her wrists free and retake control of their alignment. She was fairly confident that she could pull it off if she wanted, but the whispered promises of righteous exploitation and violence tickling her ear pushed those instincts back down.

"Chaos, huh? I like it."

The words spilled from her lips like warm honey. Her voice low and dangerous, almost a purr in it's unabashed excitement as she lifted her chin to further expose the pale flesh of her neck. He was absolutely right, she truly didn't care about the names when she had so much to gain on her own.

[member="Lancer Damar"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

"While the appeal of chaos is fun...I for one, like order and stability- to a degree, in my life and the things I do."

Violence stirred them both. Lancer was a precision instrument, lethal in his execution on a level that detailed down to how much face paint he used and where he put it. He was doubtful that she was as precise as he was- but then again, not many people were.

She was wanting. He was giving. Her voice rang through his ears like a gentle touch, caressing parts of his soul that hadn't been touched in a while- the instinct of desire, of gratification on a biblical level. For the second time in a short time, Lancer answered her, and they ran through the motions, again.

He lay on his stomach, doing his best to hide his tattoo on his chest- although, she might've seen it already.

"As I was saying... I will however, require...a subtle electronic touch. I could do it myself, but it would exponentially complicate the situation."

[member="Switch"]

 

[Switch]

"Electronic touch? I can do that..."

Switch once more had to catch her breath, letting her head lull back as she propped her shoulders and torso up on both elbows. The come down was always coupled with an almost giddy sensation, and a fit of fresh giggles threatened to overtake her relaxation were it not for the harsh grip her teeth had on the corner of her lip. She lifted her head to look down at herself, her chest rising and falling steadily before her as she felt the excited bumps running across her skin begin to smooth out. It took her a few seconds to find the required composure, but when she finally spoke she was fairly certain her aloof tone did nothing to betray the lingering shakiness in her legs.

"Smoke?"

She could certainly use one right about now. It was always amazing directly after, but she could not seem to recall where her pack had ended up. If her recent bed mate had a similar craving, it would certainly feel like less of a waste to go looking, but that was assuming she gave to Hutts about his opinion at the moment. The slicer cast a wandering glance his way, the man's new alignment doing wonders to accentuate the deadly tone of his back. The only downside was it all but obscured that tattoo she's taken an interest in, but she had much more pressing matters to attend to than some sexy ink.

Screw it...

It turned out waiting for an answer was waiting too long, and in a blink the woman was twisted at the waist with her palm press on the cool floor to search through the discarded pile of clothes and equipment nearest the bed. She was definitely not shy about her state of undress, but it would be a massive pain if she had to get up and actually search for the guilty pleasure.

Dammit, where are they!?

[member="Lancer Damar"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

Lancer had enough things that caused him harm in his line of work, lifestyle, and general choices- he didn't need another vice. That, and he was trying desperately to quit. He sat up on the bed, leaning against the bedpost. He propped up a knee, looking around the brightly-lit apartment. Lancer was used to working in the dark, or in the shadows- metaphorical or literal. Lancer's well-trained eyes began to look through the discarded clothes. He swept his eyes right to left, forcing his brain to take in more details than he would normally. Lancer found not the pack itself, but the shape of it first. He got out of bed, taking great care not to make a lot of noise.

The pack landed gently on the bed next to @Switch. Lancer pulled up his briefs, and fixed his hair in a reflection in a nearby window. Lancer turned back to Switch, leaning on the wall. His eyes drew blank for a moment, pondering over a few details, before he spoke again.

"I assume I can skip over the usual warning of death and dismemberment. This job however, may forever complicate, if we fail- your situation. If we succeed however, you may well be able to shape the future of Nar Shaddaa's criminal direction. If you're interested, that is."

He felt as though, she was. Lancer leaned off of the wall and sat on the edge of the bed, stretching his back on the edge of the bed.