Private Crazy Way to Catch Up

[Damsy Callat]

Mao's Place, Uscru Entertainment District,
Level 2685, Coruscant
// Mallory Bash \\​

Damsy showed up to the nightclub she had found in a quick search of local holonet recommendations with a nice shiner developing around her right eye. At least it seemed to be deterring the catcall-y sort of attention she usually got down on the lower levels. For the other kind—the 'I'd like to fight you for either no reason or a very good reason' kind—it was too soon to tell. Hopefully if any of her fellow nightclub goers took her for a partner in the other sort of dance, it'd go better for Damsy than her training with Scerra had gone a few hours earlier.

Friendly spar, my actual shebbs, she thought bitterly as she leaned back against the club's storefront. Maybe if she asked all nice-like and was sure to make sure Syreni was securely in her mental cage, Dagon would tutor her on the Art. He was good at it; so much so that keeping up with him during a rooftop pursuit was quite the obstacle course even for a special forces-trained Sith alchemy experiment with expanded lung capacity.

Damsy checked her gauntlet for any holomessages in case Mal had gotten lost. Describing the underworld of Coruscant as a labyrinth was doing a heinous disservice to the entire Basic language. There was so much stimulation at every turn that even if one had a map of the levels they followed to the letter they were still very, very likely to get waylaid by some distraction or another:

The deafening hover traffic. A sudden crash. Being pickpocketed. Chasing down said pickpocket. Getting into a misunderstanding with corrupt police who thought you were the pickpocket. A dealer of something trying to sell you their goods. Another. And another. Yes, then, another.

As the Shifter let her imagination get even further away from her, she stood. Maybe she should have walked Mal dow—

Then she shook her head. No, the spacer-turned-officer was more than capable of taking care of herself. Surely she'd be here in just another minute or so...

 

[Mallory Bash]

It amused Mal when she saw the district and level Damsy had chosen for their meet-up. Below the levels where theaters and opera houses, trendy clubs and cantinas lined streets lit up with a myriad of colorful lights, that level to which Mal descended was nevertheless much more familiar and comfortable for the former smuggler. It was much like the list of spaceports and Outer Rim dive towns she frequented in her former business, and even on the space station upon which she was raised.

In light of the destination, Mal reverted to the sort of outfit familiar with that former self as well. It would prove no fun, and probably unwise, to wear her uniform, or any indication of her affiliation with the GA Navy. So she donned her ragged wide-brimmed hat, a simple tank top and worn dungarees, low boots and the Tehk'lka Blade concealed in the small of her back.

The streets were crowded, being narrower than the thoroughfares of the upper levels. Mal sank into a familiar but casual awareness that avoided signs of trouble. The occasional cat call or passing comment were ignored, unworthy of even her annoyance, let alone any acknowledgement. She looked up at the row of signs, deftly dodging a staggering inebriate who slipped out of his companion's guiding hands. The distraction allowed a figure to come up on her other side, and she felt a hand grip her wrist.

"I have something that will make your night so much better." A slimy voice muttered in her ear, the heat of the breath causing Mal to grimace. He free hand hovered over the hem of her top at her back, ready to whip out the knife. A fractional breath prepared her half-Nagai vocal chords to work their magic. "You do?" She asked, her tone like rich butter. She didn't meet the offender's gaze, only looked down at his hand. Large but thin, mottled. "You mean you are going to let me slit open your belly and watch your entrails spill out while you try desperately, vainly try to stuff them back in your gaping abdomen?" Her tone was light, but edged with something that convinced the poor dealer that the woman's threat was not only a bluff, but that she could actually do it, even without seeing the knife. The hand on Mal's wrist suddenly released. She looked up, the wretch already lost in the crowd.

Thanks, father.... There wasn't much her father left her, but what he did had kept her alive, the Nagai voice, the Nagai fighting practices, and his Tehk'lka Blade.

Looking up again, she finally saw it, eyes dropping, through the shifting people she saw Damsy.

Damn, late.

Rolling up to the Jedi, Mal donned a wide grin. "Fancy meetin' you here, lady." She said with a quirky accent, touching the brim of her hat with a finger. "I like your choice, shall we step inside and have that drink?" Mal asked, stepping close enough to the entrance that the heavy, stained door slid open.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy perked up the moment her assumption proved accurate, when she spotted Mal moving through the crowd. "Was starting to get a little worried," she teased, though she had been. "Nice 'fit," she added, making a point of eyeing the half-Nagai's fronteering hat. "Sure, lessgo."

For a good number of meters, Damsy followed along after Mal, but then overcame her friend to help shoulder their way up to the bar. Soon, the countertop was in sight and the Shifter had managed to shuffle one foot out of the compacted crowd. She glanced around for Mal and offered out her hand to pull her towards relative safety. "Not hole-in-the-wall enough for my liking," she commented before retreating a few steps to turn around and lean on the bar.

The barkeeping droid was off at the other end, preoccupied with the workload of taking an obscene number of clubgoer's orders. Good thing Damsy wasn't in any kind of hurry. On the contrary, actually. She glanced over at Mal before rolling to her side and propping her head up with a folded elbow. "So."



**
Mallory Bash

 

[Mallory Bash]

A wide grin greeted Damsy's response, and soon Mal was striving to make headway in the crowded club. Her progress slowed until Damsy maneuvered her way past Mal and forged a path to the bar. One hand on her hat, the pale-skinned woman surged behind, catching a glimpse of Damsy's mocha hand reaching for her. Grasping it, Mal let her companion pull her to the bar.

Mal laughed. "Thanks." The place thrummed with scrak music and scintillating with flashing lights. She took a quick glimpse around, Then back to Damsy as she leaned a a shoulder against the long counter. She nodded at the Kaminoan's comment, then shrugged. "I agree." It was still a little to 'clubby' for her. "But who says we have to stay? We worked hard enough just to get to the bar, we can have a drink here as a kick-off and find something more to our liking, right?" Mal offered, following Damsy's gaze down the bar to the overworked droid, when an optical receptor aimed their direction, Mal waved, to register their place in its queue.

Her attention returned to her friend as Mal turned to face Damsy, elbow on the bar, one leg crossing casually over the other as she stood.

"So..." She echoed, grinning at the impressive Jedi. "... that thing that happened with the water on the Stellar Kart... " Mal's eyebrows raised quizzically, leaving her comment open ended, but her curiosity obvious. She had decided not to tap dance around Damsy. The woman was an enigma wrapped in mystery, secrets upon secrets. They had a familiarity that would, she hoped, allow Damsy to be honest in saying she wasn't interested in answering certain questions. Mal was content to drop any topic Damsy didn't wish to discuss.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Fething yikes.

Damsy slid the hand that had laced into her hair down her braids and the back of her head, sighing. Street smart instincts told Damsy the fellow hybrid had a good memory—one really needed such a skillset to survive on the hyperlanes if they were dealing with any number of unsavory characters—not that one needed the same to remember the horror of finding a shark lady slopped on the floor of your galley in place of your normal-looking passenger. For all the strange aplenty in the galaxy, the many progenies of Sith magic were among the most memorable. Though her Confederate reputation played into her Sithspawn form, more to terrify the enemies of state and haze new Dauntless recruits rather than broadcast to civilians, she sure hoped she hadn't given Mal any nightmares.

"...is why I won't be making Knight anytime soon," Damsy finished the question as a statement. More like never, but close enough. Some vain hope was healthy, right? She rose her eyebrows at Mal, almost daring the other woman to use her imagination.



**
Mallory Bash

 

[Mallory Bash]

Mal waited with bated breath, though holding her casual visage, as the question sank into Damsy. The woman seemed to contemplate the question for a moment. Then, with craftiness Mal did not find surprising, Damsy answered her question by not answering it. Damn, she was good.

Mal's grin opened to reveal a hint of teeth, her amber gaze darting down before lifting again to Damsy, as if to accept the well placed parry. She nodded slightly as she smiled, receiving the message loud and clear. Mal recalled the curious incident when water spilled on Damsy, and the strange physical reaction. The reason for the strange sight was never offered, nor asked. Really, Mal only saw glimpses of what ever was happening, but it sure as hell wasn't an allergic reaction. The only thing that had come to mind at the peeks of paler, scaly flesh on Damsy's body was...fish. "Still... I bet you look sleek as hell in the water." Mal's eyes glinted. In that alabaster face and wry smile was a promise that Damsy's secrets, any that Mal knew, guessed at or would come to find out, would remain just that... secret.

"Who knows, sometimes what we see as flaws in ourselves can become advantage, even salvation." Mal added sagely. Finally, the server droid rolled up behind them. In a polite, servile tone it requested their orders. "Cometduster" Mal barked out, sure the droid could handle a cocktail more common in the Outer Rim. Her gaze swung to Damsy, a hand gesturing for her order. "First one's on me."

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Well.

That reaction was anticlimactic, but then again Damsy wasn't sure just what she had been expecting. The hint connected perfectly well in her mind, probably because she had thought it up. That and this had been the reality she had been living with for about a year now. Though she had known herself to be Sithspawn all her life, feeling the heavy prejudices of the Jedi living on this side of the galaxy was almost brand new. Only an NJO Knight, Master, and fellow Sithspawn (was he a Padawan too?) knew of Damsy's condition, but the first two at least would surely not let her progress to the faction's higher echelons.

Ipso facto, the water thing that had happened on the Stellar Kart was the reason she wouldn't make Knight anytime soon.

"Still... I bet you look sleek as hell in the water."

"Who knows, sometimes what we see as flaws in ourselves can become advantage, even salvation."

Damsy mumbled a "yeah" at the first comment, then simply gave a well-practiced I don't buy it, but a'ight smile at the second.

"First one's on me."

Damsy's face fell under the realization that drinking was probably not the best idea in the known galaxy for her right now. If she started, she probably wouldn't be able to stop. Of all the realities she had stumbled into in her life, none of them had been quite as intense as this one, and her desire to escape had never been as immediate or enduring.

It was exhausting.

But she couldn't stop now. The fight for equality didn't only affect her anymore; no longer was this struggle to become Jedi without assimilating so much she might literally die a pet project she could walk away from at any moment. She had a family down in Sector 943 that were invested in the outcome too now, and she couldn't let them down.

The buck was hers. There was too much work to do to nurse an old addiction of self-pity.

"Just water," Damsy said equally to Mal and the service droid. "I'm boring. And a weirdo." She looked over at the droid, lightly rapping at its chassis with a single knuckle. "Bring me a pack o' salt with it, why don't'cha?"

She had to get this galactic weight off her shoulders, and something told her Mal would help her at least shift it.



**
Mallory Bash

 

[Mallory Bash]

Damsy's reaction seemed...damp. The light and carefree attitude she had assumed was perhaps premature. And perhaps pressing Damsy about the incident on the Stellar Kart was a misstep. Damsy was, afterall, still very much a mystery, which made navigating what was appropriate more difficult.

Or maybe Mal was overthinking the whole thing.

Regardless, it was clear something bugged Damsy, and a flash of a scowl passed Mal's face as the Kaminoan disparaged herself.. She watched her companion order water, Mal's lips parting to comment in surprise, remembering again the incident, until she heard the request for salt. That was the difference, she realized, when it came to Damsy and water.

"Well. I don't think you're either of those things." Mal commented matter-of-fact, without judgement. "We're all a weirdo to someone." Mal pontificated, though her Rim-wise sayings didn't seem to fly with Damsy. She just went with what she felt instead. "Bein' a weirdo and bein' unusual are two different things in my book."

Mal felt a mix of disappointment, then small relief when Damsy chose to pass on alcohol. Mal wasn't a transport jockey in the Outer Rim anymore, she was an officer of the Alliance Navy. Her past issues with drinking had been dealt with, if only by a current effort of sheer will. But Mal also knew how easily she could fall. It would be easier to control her drinking if she wasn't goaded by another drinker. Without knowing it, Damsy could have been saving Mal from trouble she couldn't afford.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

"Yeah yeah, whatever."

This smile seemed somehow easier, more genuine.

When their respective drinks came, Damsy rolled back over to now lead both elbows on the counter. With one hand she picked up the accompanying salt packet, with the other she flicked the grains down into the lower half. Then she tore it open and poured the contents into her glass. "I'm a stenohaline amphibian," she said, almost too quiet to hear, but she made sure she could be. "Means I don't tolerate saline levels too extremely different that what I'm used to too well. And, well, Kamino's oceans aren't the saltiest I've swam, but they also ain't fresh by any stretch of the imagination."

The Shifter held up her glass to swirl it a bit, undoubtedly trying to hasten the dissolution process. She liked salt, but not enough to drink down entire crystal clumps. "I'm not just unusual. I'm unnatural. I really am no Sith, but Dad is."



**
Mallory Bash

 

[Mallory Bash]

Mal took a sip of her drink, flinching at the strange buzzing on her tongue that was unique about a Cometduster. The drink was made with a machine that excited the molecules, giving the cocktail an electrifying sensation. Her gaze slid to the shifting Damsy, who leaned on the bar to mix her own drink. Mal caught the strange, quiet words that came out of her mouth, but scooted closer to Damsy to make sure she could hear her over the din of the club. It was clear the conversation was not to be overheard by others.

Stenohaline amphibian. Mal was no biologist, but her mother made sure she had tutoring holocrons, even growing up aboard an entertainment space station. The term amphibian helped to explain the changes she saw in Damsy aboard her ship. An animal that lives both in water and on land. While Mal didn't know what stenohaline meant, the woman's explanation helped Mal connect the dots. Damsy was an aquatic shapeshifter, one that could only tolerate a certain mix of salt water.

Mal had traveled enough to know that views of shapeshifters varied, dependent on the system, world or organization., but most were suspicious of them at best and openly hostile at worst. So, that was it, why the strange behavior on her ship, and why Damsy was so skeptical of her advancing in rank as a Jedi. Mal nodded to show her understanding. Mal grasped the confidence into which she had been taken, one of great gravity to Damsy.

But as Mal formed the words to ensure Damsy that her secret was safe, the shapeshifter dropped another blazer bomb on her. Of course, Mal suspected some connection with the Sith ever since she hauled Damsy to Yavin. Whether allied with them, an enemy of them, or simply doing business with them, Mal didn't hazard a guess. Damsy began to unravel that mystery as well.

Again, Mal was not a scholar, but she knew something of the Sith. Well, maybe not enough. She wasn't sure how a father could be Sith, and not the daughter. Regardless, if the shapeshifter revelation was a secret, the fact that Damsy was the daughter of a Sith had to be vaulted secret.

Mal took another drink to buy her a moment to process what Damsy had revealed. Shapeshifter... child of a Sith. She looked at Mal, trying to see either in the woman next to her. She didn't. But she did see Damsy in a different light. If Mal thought she was lonely, Damsy must be be even more so. The admiration Mal had for Damsy was hammered into new respect.

Mal's gaze went to her drink, fingers idly caressing the sides of the glass, made slick with condensation. "That is a lot to carry on your own." Mal offered. The knowledte about Damsy could have caused a conflict of interest for Mal, as an officer of the Alliance. But the thought of betraying Damsy never crossed her mind once. Mal was new to the military, but old to the ways of the smugglers and Rim transports. There was an honor among those thieves. Damsy's secrets would be guarded by Mal.

"Are you not a Sith because its not in your blood, or are you not by choice?" Mal's understanding of Sith had a lot of holes in it.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy shook her head, but she wasn't really sure what at. Both options Mal had presented described the halfblooded Shi'ido quite well. Maybe just the reality that something had chosen her fate before she was even sentient. Technically, the Darkness was in her blood. She had been born to succeed her father, inherit his Sithy legacy and continue it on. Well, made, more accurately. His alchemy had woven teachings around her every vein, and she had learned augments from a few Masters later on.

But, above all, she ultimately had made the choice she didn't want any of it. It was relatively easy to stamp the memories of those lessons as disgusting and outdated and no longer serving her, but the harder part was sorting the innate sorcery out of the marrow in her bones.

Actually, it was impossible. The Bogan was her biology. What's more, it wasn't her boon. Or, she didn't consider it to be. That part of her was not Sith.

If Mal's understanding of the Sith was not watertight, Damsy was about to sink that ship with another homing torpedo of life-altering news. "Have you heard about Sithspawn?" asked Damsy way too casually for either of the women's goods. A sip of saline solution later, she smacked her lips. "They as unnatural as it gets."



**
Mallory Bash

 

[Mallory Bash]

Mal felt a subtle tightening in her stomach. She felt as if she had opened a can of sandworms without knowing it, the lid coming off a little bit more with each question she asked. The haf-Nagai watched as the woman shook her head slightly, as if deep in thought. Finally, Damsy asked her own question.

Sithspawn?

Like most things Damsy had spoken of, Mal's knowledge contained only cursory information on the subject, and some of it conjecture and rumor. All she knew of Sithspawn was that they were created by the Sith, and there was an ominous mystery around them in Mal's eyes. She didn't know whether they were people or creatures or what. But the little she did know cast the subject in a dark, menacing light.

"I have heard of them, creations of the Sith." She replied, hoping her short reply was enough to indicate that it was the extent of her understanding, without having to admit more ignorance to yet another topic. Mal suddenly found a dryness in her throat and tried to sooth it with a larger swig of her drink. The electric sensation of the gulp on the tongue made her wince again as she swallowed hard.

Easy girl...

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

All Damsy did at first was shrug.

Then she hid her face behind the lip of her glass as she swigged down half of the water left within.

She could read the room. Though she was confident her secret was safe with the reforming flygirl, Damsy didn't want to make her needlessly uncomfortable.

"Sorry, Mal," she offered after. Fishing a few credits from somewhere in her jacket, she stood up, set them on the counter, and turned to the new officer. "Forget about it." A small smile passed over Damsy's lips despite herself, there then gone, before she shoved her hands into the pockets the credits must have been hiding in. "See ya around?"



**
Mallory Bash

 

[Mallory Bash]

Mal waited, curious, wondering what Sithspawn might have to do with Damsy.

Damsy's demeanor changed, like a bucket of water poured over the woman. The intimate nature of the conversation, the confidences shared, seemed to severe, like a door sliding shut between them. Damsy apologized, dismissed the entire conversation and made to leave, just like that. The faint smile Damsy offered only confused Mal, and then it too was gone. The glint of the possible connection was just a glimmer in the back of her mind, but it began to focus with Damsy's unexpected change of mind.

See ya around?

A moment of confusion, a pang of frustration. She turned as Damsy tossed her credits on the bar. "Wait..." The half-Nagai spoke over the din of the club, "...what the frak do you mean, just forget it?" She said, the tone in her voice more hurt than angry. "Did I say something wrong? Don't you think I can handle it? I am not the naive space jockey that flew you to Yavin. I may not know about a lot of things, but my capacity to understand things is pretty damn good. I already know more about you than just about anyone. You told me these things because you need someone to confide in. Give me credit, let me be that ear you need."

Mal stood realizing a slender, pale finger was pointing at Damsy. She slowly withdrew it, slowly accepting the connection. It acually made sense. Mal took a step towards the Kaminoan, very close, close enough to speak in Damsy's hearing, without being heard by others. "If you tell me right now that you are Sithspawn, I won't blink an eye, Damsy. I don't see you as a Sith, or Jedi, or some infamous ex-commando, I just see you. Adding Sithspawn to the list isn't going to change that." Mal said, holding her ground.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy was about to interject an explanation before Mal got it:

The pretend Padawan wasn't questioning her intellect, just the probability that driving her point home would keep her the only non-Sithspawn friend she probably still had.

It didn't look great, but neither did seeing herself out mid-conversation.

"I'm Sithspawn.

"But I really goddamn wish I wasn't."

The second bit came out a hoarse whisper, tone successfully holding back tears.



**
Mallory Bash

 

[Mallory Bash]

Maybe it was naivete, maybe it was just the sort of person Mal was. The admission from Damsy, just as Mal had claimed, had little impact on the new naval officer. It was easier, admittedly, to accept it while she looked at Damsy as she knew her, the woman she had admired, in the middle of a bar. Maybe, if Mal had seen Damsy in her other form, or had seen the unspoken things the woman had done in her past, the ex-smuggler might have been more disturbed. But none of that was the case. What Mal saw was a friend who struggled with who she was, as most regular people did at some point in life. Granted, what Damsy struggled with was significantly greater than most any person faced.

Mal reached to touch Damsy on the arm, crisp gray eyes fixed on the woman's. She hoped in the small gesture that Damsy would see that her confidant was not afraid or repulsed.

"Lets get out of here, someplace quieter." Mal suggested, her hand slipping from Damsy's arm to give a light pat on her shoulder.

 

[Damsy Callat]

A truth be told that was hidden to Mal and Damsy alike, the Shifter wasn't nearly as horrific as she thought she was. What convinced her against all logic boiled in her blood, sizzling like Force Lighting, restless Sith power. Was it fair of her to put her guilt in a characteristic she had no part in choosing and couldn't hope to change now? No, but was Syreni, the alter inside that still fancied herself a Darth, persuasive? Yes, very, plus seemingly credible.

It was also easy to carry on hating yourself when virtually everyone around you loathed to think of the Dark.

Oh, how she had been naïve to think the Jedi and their New Order would have welcomed her with open arms. To their credit, two of them had offered refuge, but not unconditionally. Not as she was. Both expected her to change, undo what had been done to her. Not only was that unfair as well, but she was fairly certain un-alchemizing herself, if one could even do that, would kill her personally, as she had been born Spawn rather that transformed into one after some amount of normal life.

"Lets get out of here, someplace quieter."

Damsy was about to agree with the sentiment when a glint of strobe light somewhere it shouldn't be caught her eye from over Mal's shoulder. Turning around to face about the direction of the entrance, she saw a cyborg sidestep out of the doorway, not over the heads of the crowd but through Force Sight. Her aural vision was touch and go usually, but only touchy tonight.

"Ashla feth," she muttered under her breath. "Say it ain't so..."



**
Mallory Bash

 

[Mallory Bash]

Mal waited a tenuous moment to see if Damsy would agree with a change of venue. mal would have been satisfied to stay where they were, as long as Damsy stuck around a while longer. There was a lot hanging in that conversation to just walk away.

She caught Damsy's gaze meet hers, then flick away. A subtle angling of the Jedi's head and the focus of her gaze going distant indicated attention diverted beyond them both. Damsy muttered something... a name.

"Who?" Mal asked, brows furrowed as she looked at Damsy, then twisted to look behind her. Of course, she had no idea what or who Damsy was looking at.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Who...?

Had she let his name slip?

Oh. Oh. No, of course. Not everyone knew the Jedi's lingo.

"A name for the light side," Damsy muttered, not looking back at Mal, worried for many reasons to look away from the invisible metal man. She didn't want to watch a rouge wave roll in and wash her away into pure, open panic, but here she was. At least it beat the alternative. She doubted there were any other Jedi here at this time of night because those not on duty or away were probably asleep, but one couldn't be too careful, especially when only one wrong collective move on the part of the Sithspawn refuges hidden down in the Works would be enough to sow their undoing. Plus, the less civilians who saw any of them, the better.

Not to mention CDF agents, who were either unbelievably lazy and corrupt or could pop out of the woodworks any moments. The police breed in Galactic City was really one in a quadrillion or more.

"Your turn to find a place," she added. "I'll be right back." She almost walked past Mal but before she did, she turned around and found the half-Nagai's gaze. "Promise." Her tone was hard but friendly, just that, a promise, that despite how she had just been acting she would return to go that someplace else.

Then, Damsy pushed her way into and back through the crowd. As she got closer to her target, his mental silhouette tinged from fuzzy grey to focused red.

The seeming-cyborg approached her as she reached his side of the cantina.

"What's wrong with you?" she hissed, getting close to him so no one might overhear. She touched warm fingers to cold metal, transferring a bit of her personal Buried Presence to cover up his signature of dark side corruption. It didn't do a great job, but trying to do any better for him would leave her completely vulnerable, and that would be sure to catch some Sensitive's attention even if they weren't trained Jedi. "Where's your amulet?"

"There's been a problem, Damsy; they don't work anymore."

"What do you mean, anymore? What's happening with 'em?"

"They're amplifying our taint." Damsy opened her mouth to reply, but he beat her to it. "I couldn't reach Ursula."

She glanced down at the wrist HUD to which her AI was tethered. Sure enough, no missed calls. She trusted him. "We need to fix that." The lack of reliable service from the lower levels was going to prove problematic sooner rather than later.

The man nodded. "But this takes precedent. Are you busy? Can you come down?"

Damsy cast a glance over her shoulder in the direction she had come. For a moment, a path in the crowd cleared for her to spot Mal; their eyes may have locked.

"Who's that?" he would ask, mechanic gaze following along Damsy's line of sight easily.

It took too long to answer, so Damsy simply nudged him towards the exit. "Go. I'll catch up."



**
Mallory Bash

 

[Mallory Bash]

Ashla.

Yes, she had heard that time before. There was a zealot group of lightsiders way out in the Tingel Arm that used that name. Mal turned as Damsy passed, nodding with acknowledgment. Whatever had interrupted them, Mal assumed it was business, perhaps Jedi, perhaps not. That was the way it was with Damsy, the secrets and mysteries.

Unfazed, Mal returned to her drink at the bar, sipped a the warming liquid. Curiosity compelled her to seek out Damsy among the crowd, picking her up again at the back of the room, glimpsing the woman between individuals in the milling crowd. She too saw hints of the subject of her distraction, a figure, and a lot of metal. In an opening, Damsy's gaze met hers, and then that of the stranger, a cyborg. Then they were lost again in a passing throng.

Mal assessed the situation in her moment alone in the crowded bar. There was, surprisingly, no moral conflict. She knew now there was more to Damsy than the Jedi knew. Things that would complicate things. As an officer of the Alliance Navy, she should report what she knew. But Mal wouldn't. She had been guided by the tenuous unspoken code of traders and smugglers much longer than the directives of the GA. Loyalty to a person worthy of it came before loyalty to an organization. An organization doesn't have your back, but a loyal friend would.

She didn't know why she trusted Damsy, well, as far as she trusted anyone. Nor did she know why Damsy trusted her.
Damsy Callat