Private Denon Views & Milkshakes

[Mercy]

DENON
Maeve Linahan

Denon felt like home.

Busy, pulsing with energy and right in the middle of a psuedo-war between the Corporates and the Criminals. Shadowrunning terrorists striking against CorpSec at every opportunity. CSA goons crushing skulls when the common sentient stepped forward to ask for more heat, or food, or whatever. It was delightful. Made Mercy feel alive and right cozy, even if it was smackdab in Alliance space.

It was a border region and that was why neither Alliance Marshals nor Jedi could totally take control over it.

If not for that maybe Mercy would have stayed away from the world completely.

Instead the Sith always felt herself drawn back to it. To have a drink, to go dance, to jump into a fighting pit for old times sake. The usual. Today Mercy didn't have much planned. She had injected herself with some fancy arse designer chemical (courtesy of Maijan Paisea 's recommendation) and decided to just... sit. She had found a park on one of the towering skyscrapers that dotted Denon. Some kind of charity work of a long-dead corporate type that wanted to be known for bringing green back to the corporate hellscape. Now it was publicly open and people could be found wandering around, enjoying the rare shade of grass you couldn't find anywhere else.

The bench she was sitting on had a great view of the citiscape underneath them. It was late in the day and mostly it was quiet.

Except for the intrusion of some vandals. A group of adolescents which were currently drawing graffiti on some fancy pants statue (maybe of the corporate executive who had ordered this park), broadcasting their chitty music choice too loud and giving everyone a nasty eye that even dared to look at them.

Mercy was slurping her milkshake.

She reckoned the lads had until the end of the milkshake. If they were still there once Mercy was finished? She'd toss them over the edge one by one.

Halfway through.

Sluuuuurp. Ah. It was a good milkshake though.

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve had been shadowing her all day.

Mercy. That was the name she went by. A golden-eyed tank of a woman, she boasted a notorious record with the Galactic Alliance. She'd battled loyal Jedi, stolen priceless museum artifacts, and plundered hundreds of credits worth of complementary snacks. A scoundrel and a thief, the longer she spent outside the window of a cell, the more likely she was to wreak havoc on another neutral world.

Which was why Maeve had been tasked in ending her criminal streak.

Mercy had a ledger penned in blood, and Maeve was going to close it. How she intended to accomplish that, she hadn't a clue. Charging her in a park was not exactly what she might consider a 'good idea.' That risked collateral. The damage of public property, the threat of lost lives. She had to be smart about this. To snake her way into her mark's comfort zone, before striking at her when she least expected it.

So, when she spotted the group of vandals nearby, their laughter as equally grating as their taste in music, a plan came to mind. A strange and unusual plan.

The way Mercy had eyed them, she'd fully expected the woman to pop their heads like bleeding cherries the moment she finished her milkshake. What better way to earn her attention, her interest, then by beating her to the punch?

Maeve set aside the roll of newspaper she'd been staring absently at for the last hour and rose from her bench. She drew a deep breath. Calmly, she approached the vandalized statue and the teenage boys loitering about it. Without her cowl or the cover of a shaded tree, she stuck out like a sore thumb now, and the boys noticed her coming a mile out.

The first one jutted his chin at her. "Hey pretty thing, can I help you?"

Maeve smiled, then proceeded to kick him directly in the crotch.

Mercy​

​

 

[Mercy]

Maeve Linahan

Mercy was looking with keen interest when some short blonde girl detached herself from her newspaper and the bench she was sitting on. Internally she winced a bit when she seemed entirely fixated on walking over to the gaggle of teenage hooligans. But sadly half her milkshake was still resting inside the container, so she couldn't very well stand up now to lend assistance.

While Mercy had a weakness for pretty damsels in distress Mercy had an even bigger weakness to her rumbling stomach.

Right now it was murmuring to her: meatmeatmeatmeat.

A never ending refrain courtesy of her far-flung connection to the Drengir. The stronger she became... the less easy it was to ignore their call. What helped was to eat. A lot. Hundreds of credits worth of complementary snacks.

Then Maeve did something that actually surprised her.

Surprised her so much that mid-slurp Mercy raised her eyebrows. Furthermore? The milkshake went in the wrong direction causing a brief coughing fit where she had to slam her hand into her chest a few times. By the time her lungs were operating at peak efficiency again it was all over. The lads crumbled and crying in a curled fetal position and Maeve standing triumphantly over them.

There was one thing that Mercy enjoyed even more than a damsel in distress.

It was a damsel causing distress.

"Damn," Mercy murmured there with a sudden onset of dry mouth syndrome. "-ya know how ta use yar legs, babe." She pushed herself up and off the bench, swaggering towards Maeve in a lazy fashion.

It only took a few steps before her long stride brought her home.

"Milkshake?" Offering half the container to Maeve. "What's yar name an' where ya been all my life?"

Looked like Maeve got the attention she wanted.

Hopefully it wouldn't be a bigger bargain than anticipated.

 

[Maeve Linahan]

The rest of the boys were a cake walk.

By the time Maeve was finished, all four of them had made their acquaintance with the pavement and her heel, nursing bruised crotches and whimpering for their mothers. Maybe it was overkill, but it felt like justice. The important part was, she had got what she wanted: Mercy's attention.

The woman had since lifted from the bench and strode—no, sashayed—over to her like she was a steaming plate of chicken. But Maeve kept her cool. She raised an eyebrow and watched her with visible suspicion. She suspected this was the part where she commended her guts and handed her a business card, maybe recruit her into a small-time gig.

Instead, Mercy offered her a milkshake.

Maeve blinked, looking between the half-empty cup and the woman holding it. Her comment was equally blindsiding. Flirting, already? She'd known Mercy was vain and bold, as most criminals were, but this was downright shameless.

Which made things all the more perfect.

Her lips broke into a smile and she nodded. "Thanks," Maeve said, then leaned over and took a sip from the milkshake, not once breaking eye contact. Then, satisfied, she pulled away. As if on cue, a golden strand of hair fell over her right cheek, which she brushed aside with her best imitation of a laugh.

"I'm Dyrfinna. Are you always this upfront with people you've just met?"

She eased back. Shooting a glance over to the group of boys, now limping already halfway across the park, she dusted her hands. "Sorry you had to see that. I'd hoped to spend my afternoon enjoying a rare taste of fresh air, but once they started playing that horrendous music, I knew someone had to step in."

Maeve tilted her head. "What's your name?"

Mercy​

​

 

[Mercy]

Maeve Linahan

Eyebrows rose a fraction when Maeve leaned in to take a sip.

O-oh, Mercy liked this one.

The large woman watched and couldn't help but lick her lips ever so slightly. Still that dry mouth syndrome, of course, nothing untoward at all. "Oh, no, thank you." Once Maeve withdrew she brought the milkshake up and took another longer sip herself. Intense eye contact continued. This was turning out to be a much more interesting trip than Mercy initially anticipated.

The plan was to have some introspective thought and to consider herself.

Instead somehow the universe had dropped this in her lap. Mercy wasn't religious by any means. She send a prayer of thanks to any Gods that were willing to listen regardless.

"Mm, people often say I am the most straightforward person they have ever met." Mercy drawled lazily there. Of course, usually that was paraphrased only and said after she literally rammed herself through the wall of their compound or kicked their reinforced durasteel door in. Amber eyes glanced to the loose strand of hair and she felt disappointed it couldn't have been her doing the brushing.

"Pleasure meeting you, Dyrfinna." Bit of a mouthful but nobody was perfect Mercy reckoned. "People call me Mercy." A hint of a smile at the corner of Mercy's mouth suggested she was well-aware of the irony.

She threw the empty milkshake container into the trash can.

Except Mercy hadn't even looked over her shoulder when she did it. It was almost as if her arm, her right one tattooed and the symbols shifting just under her skin, had acted on its own.

"If that was yar evening plan that be totally ruined now, hm?" The hinted smile turned into a fully-formed crooked grin. "Why don't ya let me take ya out for the rest of the night? Trust me... with me next to you? Ya can rest yar legs easily for the rest of the night."

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Mercy," she said, like she hadn't committed the name already to memory, as if she was tasting it for the first time. "Do people really say it to you as a name, or as a plea? You don't strike me as softhearted."

She flashed another smile. Some teasing never hurt. Maeve didn't want to overplay her hand with too much sweet-talk, even if the other woman did seem about head over heels. No way it would be this easy. Mercy had cultivated a reputation for being merciless, and death and destruction often followed in her wake.

Of course, reports never did say she was smart. Just monstrously strong.

Up close, it struck Maeve then how easily Mercy could kill her. She was tall, arms coursed with muscle, and had knuckles that could cut glass. One chokehold and Maeve would be wishing her neck farewell. But this was what she'd expected, wasn't it? She knew the risks, the cost. How was this different from any other mission?

No, what was she saying? This was completely different.

Maeve wasn't that talented a charmer. She could barely maintain a conversation with fellow Jedi. How she made it this far with Mercy, she had no damned idea.

"Upfront and impatient," she said. "I'd only just learned your name and already you're asking me for a night out?" She folded her arms, pretending to consider her request, before letting the corner of her lip curl. "Alright. I'll bite."

"Where to, Milkshake Mercy?"

Mercy​

​

 

[Mercy]

Maeve Linahan

"Oh, I can be soft... I can be outright karkin' gentle when I wanna be." She murmured there slyly as Mercy glanced her up and down without a care or haste in the world. "If t'right person presents itself to me." This was the problem with being Mercy. To her it was the natural order of things when gorgeous women presented themselves to her with desire in their heart. In fact, when they didn't? That's when Mercy was actually getting suspicious, because it just didn't fit with the way she saw the world.

A world that revolved around her. Always.

While Maeve was contemplating Mercy took out a cigarette for herself. Then offered her one as well, before lighting it up and sticking it between her teeth.

"Ah... I prefer the one to be biting." Mercy drawled as she moved to sling one bulky arm around Maeve's shoulders and brought her closer against her. As if they were already on a date. Instead of randomly meeting each other in the park. "Mmm, Milkshake Mercy..." She laughed as she sounded that out while guiding Maeve through the park towards the lifts.

"Yar got a fun way with yar words, darling Dyrfinna. I like it." If the way her arms had looked reminded her of how easily a choke-hold could take place, having the arm actually around her shoulders and neck couldn't be comfortable either.

There was weight there.

What's more? It was her eldritch arm. Branded with strange moving tattoos and pulsing in delight. It had a connection to outer worlds and sometimes had a will of its own. Right now? It was snugged up close to Maeve's neck and it would be difficult not to notice the taint of the Darkside brushing her at every momentary movement.

"I got a lil' stake in a local bar. Free drinks an' even food special for me." Already getting actionable information! How useful.

"They make a mean Corellian Sunblast an' maybe if ya keep mah interest... I will show ya some more interesting places tonight. Like that idea?"

A lazy flick of her finger and the elevator button pressed itself. Before they could close a few civilians took one look at Mercy... then quickly shuffled out of the elevator pod.

"Mm, I do got that effect on people, mah apologies."

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve fought not to tense when Mercy laid her arm over her shoulder. She wasn't unaware of the power they carried, the weight. She had sensed it when the woman had tossed out her milkshake, how the ink embedded into her skin turned and twisted like a living, breathing thing. Force-imbued tattooing. She'd heard rumors of the practice, but never saw it with her own two eyes. Clearly, it was made to enhance Mercy's strength and aim.

As if it wasn't already threat enough.

Watching her tattoo sleeve from the corner of her eye, Maeve hid her wariness behind another warm smile. "Your tattoos. They're beautiful. Where did you get them?"

Every question Maeve asked had a motive behind them. A point to find and information to glean. She didn't want to push her luck, but Mercy didn't seem remotely suspicious about who she was, and given how quickly she offered to take her back to her den, which was bound to host other members of her crew or the criminal element, she felt pretty confident about her chances.

"I never say no to good food and a drink," she said. "As for after? I don't know. Depends on if you can keep my interest, too." More teasing. Of course, Mercy would keep her interest. Right up until she gave up all her secrets, then Maeve would do what she came to Denon for. Clean-up work.

As the button to the elevator switched on by itself, she lifted a brow. "You're Force-sensitive?" she asked, feigning surprise. "Well, you really are something else."

At her apologies, Maeve shrugged. "No need. In fact, I'm a little jealous. Most people take one look at me and see a victim. A target, and not the fighter underneath." She smiled, more at the irony of her statement than to charm. "I work part-time as a bounty hunter, but most wouldn't guess that at first glance."

Among other things.

Mercy​

​

 

[Mercy]

Maeve Linahan

Beautiful?

Mercy glanced down to her sleeve and then with a thoughtful look at Maeve. Most people wouldn't say it was beautiful. Stark bright neon pulsing right under her skin and making it seem like a coiling whirlwind. It was delicious to Mercy. A sign of her power, the kind of strength she seized, instead of waiting her turn like the good little acolytes at the academy.

"Yar a delightful surprise, darling." Murmured finally. "A scrawny little thing, thin as a reed and hungry, offered them to those who passed her alleyway one day."

Like the start of a witchin' tale.

"One look at me."

The memory was perfect.

"...and she knew what to draw. Burning my skin with ink coming to life, connecting my skin, my meat, to a realm beyond." When Mercy closed her eyes she could feel it. Almost outside of reach. A world next to theirs, separated by reality, where coiled beasts and eldritch things lived. In a distant past they had been worshipped by the Primeval. No more. But this was no tree. When the observers left, the gods remained.

Her accent was gone too... for a brief moment. Before Mercy's eyes opened again.

The meathead had been strangely poetic for a moment and her accent far more sophisticated and refined than her look or her reputation suggested.

"Mm, I will see what I can do." Usually Mercy didn't care for women who wanted her to earn their affection. It bored her. If they didn't know what they had in her? They didn't deserve the opportunity to worship Mercy in the first place. The elevator doors clinked and out came Mercy with a lazy stride and now a date in tow.

"Bounty hunter, huh?" There Mercy did tilt her head a fraction. After all, the creature of meat and muscle had a bounty on her. Perhaps she had been a bit too hasty. "And what sort'a bounties do ya hunt, darling dear?"

Maeve might notice it.

The flirting tone was seeping away. Just the lazy drawl remained.

Casually drawn to one of the alleyways.

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve listened to the story with quiet surprise. Not because it involved an unusual coincidence or a stranger in a dark alley, but because it sounded like the truth. Shadow training had taught her how to discern a lie, but Mercy spoke as if reliving the memory, with more clarity and thought than she'd ever assumed was possible for the woman.

There was an undercurrent of real emotion. Something more than her wanton desires. It shocked her a little, seeing Mercy break from her accent and talk to Maeve like she was more than a piece of meat.

Which served as a slight problem, too.

She'd said something wrong. Overstepped her bounds. Maeve had caught the flash of boredom in Mercy's tone, then the suspicious gleam in her golden eyes and in the question she asked. Suddenly the arm on her shoulder felt much heavier, and the woman beside her more intimidating. She couldn't let her hold on Mercy slip. She had to salvage this.

"Oh, nothing serious," Maeve replied, offering another rare smile. She eased into Mercy's arm, ignoring the occasional jab of the Dark Side she felt on the back of her neck. If not for that, she might've even found it cozy. "Petty vandals and investor frauds. It's nothing like actual bounty hunting. I'm not built for that sort of life."

Her laughter was soft as silk. "I'm barely fit for what I do now. But it's a temporary thing. Just a means to earn credits. It's the best job a girl like me can get on a planet like this. Second I find something worth my time, something worth living for… well, consider me signed up."

As if on cue, Maeve glanced up at her. "What about you? What do you do, Mercy? It must be serious, if you're brave enough to accept otherworldly tattoos from back-alley strangers."

Mercy​

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[Mercy]

Maeve Linahan

Sweet words, sweeter lines.

Mercy hummed and as they strolled into the shadows of the alley she'd suddenly pin Maeve against the wall. Not too forceful, not too aggressive, because if she was wrong? Well, she didn't want to ruin a possibly nice night. But Mercy was less stupid than she looked. Her reputation was build on meat, bone and brawn, but there was brain hiding there too.

"Mm, I think yar might be build for a lot of life, darling." Mercy drawled and the posh accent was gone as if it had never existed in the first place.

She leaned in there.

Hot breath and soft nose running a lazy slow line along Maeve's jawline. Until her mouth reached her ear, as if they were about to share a sweet secret in the shadows. "I am a generous soul, Dyrie. Merciful, mhm, I am. And I treat people well as long as they treat me." A smirk, playful and suggesting Maeve still had an in, if she managed to keep her nerve.

"But if I find out ya be lying to me... mhm. I am known to be petty... even cruel, but only to those that be deserving it, yeah?"

Then Mercy would move to kiss 'Dyrfinna' riiiight under her ear, so soft and so gentle, as if her might wasn't pinning her back against the wall.

"So... tell me, who are you... really? Be honest now and we will be vast friends, and you will be well on your way to earn my loyalty."

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve had to restrain her surprise when Mercy unexpectedly pinned her to the wall. The Force stirred inside, threatening to break the surface of the cloak she'd thrown over it, and her own panic threatened to follow. Had she been exposed? The thought aimed at her like a knife. She considered running, or revealing the lightsaber hidden at her back…

Then she felt her. The breath on her cheek, nose on her jaw.

"Generous?" Maeve repeated. The tips of her ears burned. She should've been nauseous with Mercy's wooing, a criminal, and her obvious neglect for a little something called 'boundaries.' But she wasn't. Somehow, that made it even worse.

"I understand," she murmured, a hitch in her breath. She'd never experienced closeness like this before. Every single one of her senses were under attack, and yet Mercy hadn't even lifted a hand or drawn a weapon. All she asked was a question. A terrible, dangerous question. Anything less than the truth might kill Maeve, so she told her it. The truth. Or at least, a layer of it, peeled and served to satisfy.

"I'm no one, but right now, I'm yours."

It was the best answer Maeve could conjure when backed against a wall with someone's mouth on her neck.

For a long moment, she would let Mercy continue to roam her lips about if she chose, if only to keep her from interrogating further. But too close or too long, and Maeve would rest her hand against the woman's chest, feeling her heartbeat there, which stood in stark comparison to her own, hammering like a tin roof in the rain.

"Shouldn't we head back to this haunt of yours?" she asked. "I would rather not have my first kiss stolen in a back street crawling with rats, if you would grant me that mercy." Again, she laced the truth into her lies. Maeve had never kissed anyone before, man or woman, and as long as she could have it, she'd not start today.

Right?

Mercy​

​

 

[Mercy]

Maeve Linahan

Just as her presence settled against her suddenly, so did Mercy abruptly withdraw once more.

The imprint of her heat and presence remained.... until it too faded away with only the contrast remaining, making the cold even more unbearable. Mercy's heart beat slow, steady and powerful. Perhaps too powerful. The way it pounded each turn against Maeve's palm. Like a hammer beating steadily into an anvil until it shattered.

"Mine..." She drawled slowly and watched the woman intently. "I like that." Her hand left Maeve's shoulder and instead moved up to cup her jaw. So gentle and warm, the heat returning once more but only on a fraction of the smaller woman this time around.

"You have never been kissed before? I am so sorry to hear that, darling."

Lips curled into a smirk.

"Let's see if we can do something about that tonight." And then she took her by the wrist and gently tugged her along. Out of the dark alleyway and back into the light, where Mercy's heavy arm once more settled on her shoulders. Her other arm now. The 'normal' one, whose only danger is the amount of iron pumped by it on a daily.

No, Maeve did not imagine it. Mercy's arm was firmer around her shoulders now. Keeping her close. But it was not a threat, it was a promise. In that moment in the alleyway Maeve had chosen the right words. If they were being honest? The only words that would have worked on Mercy. Because if the large woman expected anything?

It was that people would worship her.

"While you are mine you have nothing to fear." She'd lean in again, murmuring it into her hair. "I will keep you safe." Mercy's voice low and earnest, almost mesmerizing in its quality as it sunk into Maeve.

They strode into a deeper district. Away from the glossy neon and designer architecture. Towards a place that was actually lived in. Not poor, not rich, something in between. More genuine in a way. As they walked into a certain street the people there seemed to know Mercy. A casual exchange here, a murmur there, handshake and warrior's wrist grasp. "These are some of my people." Again that murmur. Now with pride. "They were picked away at by the corpos, by scum criminals. I got rid of both. CorpSec doesn't come here anymore and after I nailed the local crime boss's head against the door of his mansion?" Mercy smirked oh so smugly at that. "Other criminals knew to stay clear as well."

It almost sounded like Mercy was less a cold tyrant and more a local robin hood figure. At least to the people she considered hers.

That was something Iayn Dystraay had taught her, in fact. You caught more flies with honey. Why break and brow-beat those whose loyalty you wished, if you could... change their lives for the better instead and gain their eternal devotion that way?

It was an unique perspective. Mercy still wasn't certain how she felt about it.

The local haunt was just that. A pub in the center of the streets Mercy considered hers. It was bustling this time a night, lots of people coming in and out, but the crowd seemed happy. Even more so when Mercy came in and ordered a round on the house. The cheering seemed to sink deep into Mercy's chest, making her grin wider, more joyful.

"Booth over there for you." Whispered slyly in Maeve's ear. "I am gonna get us a few drinks, why don't you make yourself comfortable." Once again her lips brushed Maeve's neck, ever so slightly, almost so imperceptible it might not have happened. Except the heat remained... until it faded back into uncomfortable coldness.

Such was the way when Mercy entered your life and then left it again. Something good to remember.

 

[Maeve Linahan]

It had worked. Maeve felt a thrill in her chest. And yet, as Mercy took her arm and led her into the neon lights of the city street, she wasn't sure whether to blame the feeling of excitement on her successful lie, or what had just happened. Maybe a little bit of both. She never did understand her own emotions well.

Denon transformed as they strode on. The streets thinned, the crowds thickened, and the shops and residences seemed to squeeze together like mismatched pieces in a puzzle. Confusing as it was, Maeve saw more life here, freedom she never thought existed on a world plagued by crime and corporate greed. And between it all, the bent heads and handshakes, it was as if Mercy herself had been responsible for the change.

It made no sense.

"You protect these people?" Maeve asked. Wondering eyes roamed over the faces of each passing stranger. A child waved and shot Mercy a toothy grin, kicking a ball toward them, and at his gesturing, Maeve nudged it back with the toe of her boot.

Confusion kept rippling through her, and entering the pub didn't help in calming the tide. People cheered for Mercy at her kindness and arrival. Ordinary people.

Robbed of speech, Maeve nodded and moved for the corner booth that had been singled out for them, the warmth of Mercy's breath still on her neck. It lingered longer than it should have. Even as she settled into the cushioned seats, bathed in the warm light of the caged lanterns overhead, her mind receded into itself, considering.

Stop acting so damned surprised, said a voice in the back of her mind. You expected this. Mercy is a criminal with a monster of a past. Just because she can manipulate a city district into her good favor does not make her a good person.

Maeve drummed her fingers against the table. Every time she shut her eyes, it was difficult not to imagine the feel of Mercy's hands, the calluses on her palms compared to the softness of her lips. She had to remember the reason why she was on Denon.

She could not forget her purpose.

Her eyes roamed again, darker this time, committing this place and its people to memory. This was an objective, that was all. A viper's nest.

Mercy​

​

 

[Mercy]

Maeve Linahan

She didn't get an immediate answer.

No, Mercy was too busy smirking and being smug about the scene developing around them. When Mercy set out to forge this place she hadn't imagined it feeling so satisfying. Sure, it would be useful to have a source of constant recruitment, but that was simply business. Yet ever since Mercy opened the place to others?

It felt good to see them thrive.

Knowing she had a hand in it.

"I dun protect them." Mercy finally said as she plopped back down in the chairs but now with two glasses of ale for them. And for her a whole bowl of peanuts, because that was just how Mercy rolled.

"I offer shelter so they can learn to protect themselves." It... basically sounded like the same thing, but with some additional steps. But for Mercy there was a key difference. "Sentients deserve to be tested, pushed to the brink and given the space to thrive. But ya can't break the chains for 'em, that is to deny them the opportunity to grow and become strong themselves."

Page out of the Sith handbook but reformatted for a more grungy neon-lit age.

A little wave of her eldritch arm.

"I ain't a fragile Jedi. They save people they say, but they only leave 'em too weak and untested when they eventually leave." Satisfied with her little sales pitch Mercy ate half the bowl in almost a single go. The maw on this schutta. She could devour a bantha in a few minutes or at least make a very respectable showing of it.

"So, how's ya beer, darling?"

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Fragile? Maeve hid a grimace. The Jedi she knew were far from fragile.

Several arguments leapt to mind. She didn't want to believe Mercy had a point, even if half of it was truth. The Jedi might've not always had the best interests of the people in mind, but they did what was right by the Force, and better that than the monstrous horrors unleashed on them by the Sith.

But Maeve, like a good girl, kept her mouth shut and nodded.

She cupped the glass of ale Mercy had proffered with both hands. Hesitation rippled through her. She wasn't afraid if it'd been laced with some poison or illicit substance. What worried her was the beer itself, and the liver she knew would be too thin to stomach it. Drinking was no unfamiliar experience. But keeping it down? Unlike Mercy, she was a lightweight both inside and out.

But who was she to say no to free alcohol?

Maeve took a careful sip, feeling that satisfying burn in her throat. A short, almost comical burp escaped her lips then, which she covered up with a hand.

"Stronger than what I'm used to," she answered. "But… good."

Raising a smile, she looked around the bar again. Still lanterns and neon-bright signs. Groups of men and women enjoying their rounds. A bartender, polishing out a glass with a dry rag. The karaoke machine in the corner, humming with an old tune. The pub was more charming than she gave it credit for, and it was hard not to ease into her drink.

"How long have you made this place your home?" she asked.

Mercy​

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[Mercy]

Maeve Linahan

"Ah, darling, I didn't even pull out da whiskey for ya yet."

Probably for the best. She did seem quite lithe and it was no fun to get someone drunk on the first night. That was more reserved for reoccurring moments of debauchery when the alcohol and spice flew richly. Was the blonde someone who would enjoy it? Tough to say. She seemed a bit prim and proper, bounty hunter or not.

"Ya know, I wonder how long ya will remain dis prim and proper in mah care." Deciding to turn the errant thought into more blunt sentencing. "Cus right now, bounty huntin' or nah, you come across like..."

Mercy shrugged mid-sip as she leaned backwards and regarded her drinking friend of the night.

"Mebbe a secretary. A hot one, yah, but proper white collar work. I bet ya hands are nice an' soft too, eh?"

But for once Mercy didn't drag Maeve's hands up for inspection. Granted this was mostly because Mercy was currently holding onto her drink and was unwilling to let it go or spill, but still. Points for keeping her hands to herself for once. Her glass was halfway done and now Mercy switched back to the peanuts once more.

It was important to switch back and forth a bit.

"Eh. Three months, give or take."

Which was almost no time at all, but somehow Mercy had managed to restore order and some sense of peace in this quarter of the unruly Denon. Mercy didn't seem so impressed with herself about that however.

"Give me a year more and 'lieve me, I will clean up da entire city front. Probably not da whole planet, the Jedi won't ever let me, but this little nook? Yeah I will make it nice..." Leaning over now and giving Maeve's jaw a little stroke. "...for pretty little things like you. Then ya won't need to kick vandals between their legs."

A laugh there.

"Unless ya really want to anyway."

 

[Maeve Linahan]

At the mention of hands, Maeve kept hers around the bottom of her glass, not sure if Mercy would reach out to inspect them. Soft was a far cry from what they were. Not as rough and calloused as hers, maybe, but nothing like a desk-bound secretary's, or even a part-time bounty hunter. Those hands were that of a Jedi and a girl who knew how to hold a lightsaber since age ten.

Relief washed over her though, when Mercy leashed her curiosity and instead fed into Maeve's. "You've done all this in three months?" she said, unable to contain her surprise. Reports about the woman had been recent, but to arrest the hearts of so many in so little time was short of miraculous. How?

She wanted to press. Interrogate, even. But too many questions, and Mercy might start asking some of her own, and there was only so much Maeve could say that would be enough to throw off her scent.

"That's awfully generous of you," she replied instead. "Helping these people out. Keeping the streets safe for girls like me." She smirked a little at that, lips curving even wider at Mercy's touch. Heat warmed her cheeks. "But I don't know. I've found that I enjoy putting men on their knees. If you'd let me, maybe I could even help you."

Maeve reached out and rested her hand on Mercy's, then ran it down the spiraling tattoos of her arm, the stretch of muscle and skin. "We could hash out the details, if you want. Perhaps somewhere a little more… private?"

She was advancing things. Too fast, maybe, but she had to do something before her own conflicting feelings and the ale in her glass clouded her judgment. Long as she kept her mind clear and her growing hesitation restrained, she could still accomplish her mission. Maeve could still do what she originally came for.

Killing Sith.

Mercy​

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[Mercy]

Maeve Linahan

Her eye was drawn to Maeve's touch on her arm.

It made her smile absently as she decided to sip from her beer some more. "Darling, ya can't expect me to take ya anywhere private without finishing a few beers together first, can I?" Lazy tone, but oh yes, there was clear interest in Mercy's eyes. Interest was a gentle way of putting it. That burning gaze was hungry enough to put a Rancor to shame.

"I gotta show myself around mah people first. If I disappear too soon that will hit their morale."

A lazy shrug and Mercy reversed the touch. One moment Maeve was stroking her forearm, the next Mercy was pinning her hand down against the table proper.

It had nothing violent behind it however.

A grounding touch, one of control applied casually. "Ya wouldn't want to make me disappoint mah people, do ya?" Teasing her lightly as she finished her drink. Then? Watching expectantly for Maeve to finish hers... before ordering two more to come. "But ya got spirit. I like spirit. Maybe I can use someone like ya on mah team, sure."

"Yar will 'ave to meet mah girls, of course. Make sure they like ya... but that will come another day."

What would Maijan Paisea think of Maeve? The closest thing Mercy had to an errant sister. Or Iayn Dystraay ? The one who had inspired her to go down this path in the first place.

Or Frea Sheplin ... who had such able hands working on her vehicles and racing for team Mercy.

"Today is jus' a day for fun... an' joy. Do ya wanna partake in some joy with me tonight, darling Dyrfinna?"

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Her smile gleamed, but more like a knife behind her back than a shiny souvenir. Maeve had hoped Mercy would take the bait. To lunge at the first chance where they might be alone again, where she might be able to pin her on silk sheets than against a brick wall. The Sith was starving, so why was she holding back for drinks and appetizers?

Maeve swallowed down more of the ale along with her disappointment. The long game it was. Fine by her. It hadn't even been a full hour since they met, and she had spent far longer time cultivating the trust of her former targets before slitting their throats in the dead of night. She could do the same now.

This could serve as a much needed opportunity for her to practice patience.

"Of course, I understand. You've a duty to your people, and I know duty always comes first." For a Jedi Knight, most of all. "Work first, then play."

Maeve leaned back into the booth. She had to admit, she was impressed with herself. Never had she been able to flirt with such finesse. She had slipped into her role as a touring bounty hunter wonderfully, thanks in part, perhaps, to all the holo-dramas she'd watched in preparation. Well, it was that, or the fact she was honestly enjoying this.

Which she would never admit. Because that was a lie.

Maeve finished the final dregs of her glass, only to frown a little at the sight of another, foaming and overflowing. "Are you trying to get me wasted?" she said with a teasing smile, even if it was an honest question. "If you want to partake in a little 'joy' tonight, I would at least like to be able to still speak full sentences before we try anything."

She nudged the glass aside. "But girls? What girls? You make it sound as if you have a harem hiding upstairs, waiting for you."

Mercy​

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