Attahox? More like AttaHOTS.

[Gala Geert]

Ivory tape wound around her green knuckles as she tightened the final bandage from the venture. The Republic had established dominance over the garbage planet (whoop-dee-deedle-do) and set up various outposts. A specialist such as herself was no longer needed.

Not a necessity, Gala's teeth tore at the tape-- finalizing the wrap against her fingers. Aftermath from the administration level. The motion jostled her, pain from the interactions shooting throughout her muscles. She grunted in protest to the sensation.

The flagship was en route back to Anaxes -- where they would regroup for the next mission. Gala was currently in an unoccupied medical cell, tossing the bacta tape over her shoulder wherever it willed to land. Her swords were still strapped to her thighs, recently cleaned of foe blood. There was now only one other person on her kill list.


[member="Zane Watts"]

 

[Zane Watts]

Likewise to the blade babe, Zane's role on Attahox was over. There wasn't much to do for a commando when all the enemies were dead and it was just the engineering teams having a bit of fun their way. Meaning, Zane was more than useless - he wasn't a builder. He'd put up commando-style fortifications once or twice, but those were always temporary. The closest thing he'd ever done was help with Temple Ruusan, and that was basically him telling people what to do and moving some duracrete with his mind.

So back to Anaxes we go.

Armour away, weapons stowed, back in his fatigues, Zane wandered the halls of the command ship. He'd been to the medbay and had his body checked out like normal - everything was fine. No surprises there. He hadn't come away with any major scratches, but that wasn't a surprise. Actually, he'd had to ask about to see if there was a certain someone still running the usual post-mission stuff.

There she was.

The door slid open and Zane leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, warm smile on his lips. "Thought I'd come find you. You did a hell of a job back there. Thanks for saving my ass more than once."

Little did he know this was about to get fun.

[member="Gala Geert"]

 

[Gala Geert]

Gala didn't have any of those fancy Force alerts that Jedi seemed to have. Precognition would have been eternally useful --- but alas the lords of the midichlorians cared not for the convenience of Gala Geert's life. So when [member="Zane Watts"] appeared and began speaking, she looked physically startled. She'd been looking at her hand, pressing against her palm and wiggling her fingers against the pressure if the tape.

Once her skin settled and stopped crawling, she afforded him an indiscreet once-over. Her hands remain locked while he blocked her exit with that unguarded pose of his. She had to admit, she was (in the back of her mind of course) relieved that he didn't shrink significantly without the armour. That was the thing with most commandos. They had big talk when plated, but squirm them out of their plasticine? Cowards. Scrawny too. This Watts guy was still filled out nicely.

"Ha." She merely supplied a forced jest. The emerald vixen was livid with the commander. It was a nice ass to have saved, she was really just doing her duty protecting that booty! Still, she tried not to think about it, him, or anything while he was so near and able to read her mind. And be a voice inside her head. What a creep!

Speaking of creep-- she'd never told him her name. She supposed he'd sorted through some files he was privy to --- or her squadmates had ratted her out. Her arms folded across her chest "That's what they pay me for." She levied her weight to test if he would move from the door or not.

"It's a big ship." Gala commented idly, in regards to his statement about discovering her location. Dark eyes circled upward, to evidence the bandwidth of the design "- do I make your Jedi senses tingle, Commander?" Otherwise, he could have been roaming forever!

 

[Zane Watts]

The clone was doing a particularly bad job of hiding his amusement. It was always nice to come down off an adrenaline high with a purpose. His purpose now was to find and talk to this beautiful woman who he would not have minded bedding in the immediate future. That said, he had to address the obvious anti-Jedi sentiment in her tone. It was very clear she didn't deal well with the mind meld. It was also clear she wasn't a fan of the glowbat brigade. To be fair, he understood that.

"You make a lot more than my Jedi senses tingle," Zane said pointedly, a rogue grin smeared across his lips. "Besides, I just asked where the sexy Mirialan was. Turns out, hey, here you are."

Oh Zane. You so funny.

"By the way, you never did actually tell me your name," Zane finally added, pushing himself off the wall and coming over to her side with slow, purposeful gait. Against her bed he leaned, casual as can be now, still looking down into those rather deeply attractive eyes. Oh boy. "While you're at it, tell me about what you like to eat and maybe where I can take you out to dinner back on Anaxes."

[member="Gala Geert"]

 

[Gala Geert]

Gala didn't hide her eye roll. Those mocha irises took a tour around their sockets at a leisurely pace when the trooper blatantly flirted. He used the word sexy for kark's sake. He did inspire a humorous smirk from the irritated alien though -- she'd expected as much with the tingling bit. Or.. bits?

"Oh no." Gala held up her hand, pressing it against his chest and sliding from her seated position. When she was standing, her fingertips maintained their pressure against the clone's supportive pectorals. "You get neither. No name, and no favourite diner.

A lady has to expect her body invaded before her mind. And as much time as it would save me holding a conversation with you via thoughts while harking down the best steak on Anaxes, I prefer to chew and swallow before speaking.

With my voice.

So, Jedi-boy, no."

Smooth as his transition had been, he was still a Jedi freakazoid. Pity. Because standing so near to [member="Zane Watts"] she could visualize quite the perfect fit.

 

[Zane Watts]

Oho. Now this was new. An interesting way of being shot down - but it also wasn't going to stop him. Being a little determined in the right places got the right results, most of the time.

"Do Jedi offend you that much?" Zane asked, legitimately curious. Even with her hands pressed against his chest, he couldn't help but slide his hands over hers, running up the smooth skin of her arms to sit snugly upon her shoulders. Perfect fit, indeed. "I mean, I didn't think I stank of Jedi that badly. Then again, you've had a glimpse at the inside of my mind."

Then he cast a cheeky brown gaze at her. "If it makes you feel any better - I can't glean old things for a mind-meld. It puts current thoughts in sync, and even then it has to be directed. So, no. I still don't know your name. I still don't know what you like to do. But I do know that right now your hands are on me and you can't stop looking at my butt. And yes, that feeling is mutual."

[member="Gala Geert"]

 

[Gala Geert]

"Yes. You're unnatural." Gala replied pointedly, stiffening to the point that he would feel her shoulders tense beneath his rest. As much as she wasn't keen on the Jedi ordeal, she was still intrigued by him. Not for that ethereal grip he held on so tightly to, but...but she couldn't explain it. Maybe it just boiled down to him being fethin' fine.

And competent.

That was probably it. She loved men that could handle themselves. It usually meant they would be more able to handle her.

Her lips tightened to a bemused line when he called her gaze out. She hadn't actually been staring at his backside, but rather the parallel. She was visually appeased, and the ridges she'd touched so far had been nice. That wasn't something [member="Zane Watts"]'d gleaned from thoughts, because right now she was trying to focus on despising him.

Usually Gala was promiscuous to a fault--- but with a Jedi? She was reserved. Even if they did it with more Force, she hated the glow stick brigade. A bunch of plasma-parasites running about the galaxy.

"I can tell it's mutual," Gala simpered, shrugging her shoulders beneath his hold and taking a step forward "Even you don't need to be a psychic psycho for that evaluation."

Ah, ranks.

"Commander."

 

[Zane Watts]

Oh boy. This was a deep-seated hatred of his fellow glowbat-wielders that he couldn't solve. Frankly, he didn't have time to undo her mental conditioning, not enough craps to give about the fact that she hadted Jedi on her own. No point wasting time on that particular point. Instead, he decided to go down another path.

They were obviously attracted to each other. That wasn't the problem. He had to deal with the fact that she considered him a freak. He ignored the rank thing. Rank meant nothing in this room and at this point in time.

"I'll let you in on a little secret. Well, okay, half of it isn't a secret. The rest I keep quiet about, sorta," Zane said, a little grin on his lips. "I've got less than ten years to live. In five years my body will age to the point I can't fight any more."

He shrugged. This wasn't a secret, but it was certainly personal. Hell with it. This wasn't about banging this chick as furiously as he could now - he had a point to prove. "I was born in a cloning tube to be a soldier clone of a Jedi Grand Master, churned out as fast as I could be. It worked. So maybe I am unnatural and you're right. All that means is that I'm here to live the hell out of what life I've got left, fighting my way across the Galaxy. I don't have time to be fake or boring. I live life right now and as hard as I damn well can."

That was a lot to leave hanging in the air - so Zane decided to cut his self-made tension with what amounted to a lightsaber. "You want it, I want it. So that leaves me two choices: I can be honest with you, have fun and enjoy myself... and you, or I can take the defeat and move on."

The grin came back to his lips, looking intently into her eyes. His hands roamed down her sides to her hips as if to plant her against him where she was, cementing his point. "Coming?"

[member="Gala Geert"]

 

[Gala Geert]

Although green, Gala was composed of flesh and blood. She had pursued a career of excitement that exploited her talents and raked her in a considerable sum of credits. The mirilian was not a scholar, and though [member="Zane Watts"] presented the facts, she didn't care for exhibits A, B or C. In fact, she was a little curious to feel how a Jedi was when they weren't sticking to the celibacy element of their enigmatic code. That mind thing could be oddly hot.

She grimaced slightly when she felt his pressure against her hips, a thin brow arching at his final query. Coming?

"Not yet." She replied smugly-- blaming the misinterpretation in phonics and her history with pick-up lines. Nevertheless, we'll leave that communication blurb as a smooth transition to her shift in weight and an aggressive capture of the clone's mouth. Despite her innate dislike of Jedi, her passion for this unnatural exception was raw. And her curiosity was getting the better of her, the expectations for the waves he could make in her system were set to tsunamis she couldn't wait to ride out.