"You want me to what?"
"No, it's professional, I swear. I'm not asking you on a date."
Irajah wasn't sure if she should be more or less offended now.
"Oh. Thanks. That's much better."
The sarcasm seemed to be lost on the older doctor, but it was probably better that way.
She had been in Mos Eisley for two weeks now. It had taken her almost two months on Tatooine to save up enough credits and scrap enough of her crashed ship to get here. She'd been hoping that with the money left over, she'd be able to buy passage off of Tatooine and go.... well, honestly anywhere else. Somewhere she'd be able to get a real job, maybe somewhere she could start making real progress on her search.
Somewhere with less sand.
But she had underestimated how much it would cost to get her here, how many bribes it would take, how much water would cost outside of the settlements. And she'd also underestimated how much passage off world would cost. But at least here there was a proper medical center, and even without proper credentials, it had been easy to prove her skills and get a decent paying job. She figured even with the usury rates she was paying for room and board she might be able to save up enough to leave Tatooine..... sometime in the next decade.
Mostly, she tried not to think about it.
"Look, it's not, well, it's not official business. If you get my drift. But it's lucrative. And I've watched you work. I don't know who you are, or where you came from. You keep to yourself. I like that. It means you understand the value of privacy. So do my.... clients. And it's clear that you're not a nurse. You've had more training than that. No, you don't have to answer that. I'm not actually asking. But you shouldn't be making the crap wages they're paying you, and working so hard to get it. So. Come with me tonight. I need an extra set of hands. If the work suits you, and you suit me, you can expect more. And I'll pay you. Triple your weekly salary for a night's work. How does that sound?"
That sounded DAMNED fine to her.
*****
Club Dread
Irajah sat at a table toward the back with Dr. Nir, looking around curiously. Despite the heat, she wore her usual white, long sleeved, loose shirt, occasionally absently tugging at the cuffs, a relatively new habit. It hid the bruises that seemed to never really go away on her wrists, but it couldn't hide the deep circles beneath her eyes, or other signs of long illness.
She usually went out in the evenings, rather than be alone in her single room, but she hadn't come here yet. Smaller bars, but this had seemed not really her speed. She wasn't really sure yet if she'd been right or wrong. She had absolutely nothing to compare it to.
Nir nudged her slightly, nodding very subtly to an almost alarmingly large man who had just entered the club.
"He'll be heading this way in a moment," he murmured to her. "Try to look relaxed? But don't be surprised if he knows you aren't."
"What?"
"Shush. Don't talk unless he talks to you."
Nir stood as [member="Ra Vizsla"] approached, and Irajah hastily did the same. It seemed weird to not do the same. Obviously Dr. Nir had a great deal of respect for this man. And Irajah wasn't an idiot. She knew she was in something dangerous. Seemed prudent to be respectful too.
She just had no idea how dangerous yet.
"Please join us," Dr. Nir said, indicating a chair, but not using his client's name. He had already explained to Irajah that with a stranger here, it would be up to his client if he wished to introduce himself. Which was fine with her. She didn't need his name to help treat him. But he didn't seem to have any qualms about introducing her. "This is my associate, Irajah Ven. I assure you, her discretion in this matter can be counted on, m'lord."
M'lord? Oh boy.