Private Don't Forget To Stop And Smell The Subglacial Pseudo Algae

[In Rhan]

In paused briefly. While she was eager to see this done and meet it head-on - and full of all of the explosive energy that several algae smoothies and fried food could provide her recently Leónized metabolism - any plan that Niysha had was surely worth waiting a moment for. If nothing else, she was intensely curious about a Miralukan family trick - especially given Niysha's background and the fact that she'd never mentioned her family before.

Taking a moment, In motioned for Niysha to work her magic. As she did so, as much as she was able to, the business-minded Pantoran still could not conscience standing around and waiting. As Tilon ALSO had blue skin, albeit a slightly brighter tone, she did some light grooming and cosmetic work. Things he might not've thought to do on his own, but as a professionally minded entrepreneur with a theatre background she considered quite important.

It absolutely wasn't just a pretense to be nice and close to whatever Niysha's secret weapon was. No sir. Not even a little bit.

PRO/CON
-Depending on how much Lord Vanvurdil values the gritty spacer aesthetic, having makeup on could either help or hinder - at the rollers discretion.

 

[Niysha]

A shrug and desperation was basically the same thing as direct and unambiguous consent, right? Niysha nodded in response and got close enough to Tilon to rest her hands on his shoulders. Face-to-face, though definitely not eye-to-eye, the two of them stood in the middle of the cold street. "My people aren't Jedi, but we've got some understanding of the Force," she lied. "I've been watching your aura for a while now, and you're a bundle of nerves. This might help a bit."

With that, "Take a deep breath," and she did the same. Cold air rapidly warmed inside her lungs. She only needed a moment more before she was ready. Niysha began to exhale, "Now let it out, and follow me." Her presence shifted deeper, falling into herself as she let herself loose into the care of the world around her. She drifted by on eddies of early morning grogginess, frustration, hope for the new day, optimism, a line of greed...

When her voice came again, it didn't come from her mouth. Not exclusively, at least. Her spirit spoke with all of the same leisurely calm that her voice had, as she drifted deeper and beckoned Tilon to join her. 'Fear is natural. It's a response to every surprise and uncertainty that life presents us with.' Through an ocean of stress, deeper, beneath the surface. 'And like life, it is sometimes a friend, and sometimes an enemy. Fear can sharpen your senses, make your responses keen. It can keep you alive.'

Deeper still. Darker, but warmer. Niysha's world melted away, until all she was left with was the truth of the galaxy laid out before her. Not meat and stone, but light and dark. Every passionate, flaring emotion, and every peaceful, serene moment swirled into the world as she knew it. Purity, absolute essence within the Force. And within that essence, Tilon Quill. A young man who was just nervous - but hopeful - about his meeting. 'You have a lot of fear right now. And that's good. It's part of you. But so much will just make you lose your confidence. Lose your spirit.'

The swirling presence of something that had once been Niysha washed over the dark, rumbling cloud that might have been Tilon's anxiety. 'So I'll just take a bit, and gift you with bravery. The power to see it through to the end.' When it passed, taking with it what it could, all that was left was a keen little pearl. Clear. Distinct, even if where exactly it was any more - what "where" even meant any more - was less distinct.

'Breathe.'

Niysha found herself back in her body. She took a moment to gather her wits, then gave Tilon a smile, patted his shoulders, and backed up a bit. "Grandma saw what a disaster my hair was before graduation. She was so good at that that she could do it while fixing this mess." Her fingers indicated to the frizzy mane barely held down by a piece of black cloth. "Good luck, Mr. Quill."


In Favor:

• Whatever the hell Niysha just did.

Tilon Quill In Rhan

 

[Tilon Quill]

If not for In's work putting him somewhat at ease, he might have fumbled the critical moment when it arrived unexpectedly. Not the pitch, not the spiritual release of tension and fear at the end of Nysh's process, but when he flashed back to Manaan, to the start of his lifelong association with the Order of Shasa, experts in spotting deception.

The moment when he heard what felt like a lie.

And then had to forget immediately and without panic so awareness didn't taint what followed. Basically, stop suspecting she'd lied so she didn't spot that he suspected she'd lied.

He left the big questions — what she could possibly have lied about, for example — unexplored. Think about those and she'd feel it. Let suspicion fester and she'd feel it. Dwell on any of this and she'd feel it. So his instincts and training told him, anyway. Instead he focused on the more pressing problem: getting out of his own way to make the pitch.

"Thank you both," he said and meant it, and what what was there to say?

Well, other than—

"Let's make money."

In Rhan Niysha

 

[In Rhan]

The Trio entered the opulent businesses of one Lord Vanvurdil, eager to get some old money on board their quirky little startup/credits laundering scheme. Tilon Quill was the real start of the show here and Niysha had brought all the collateral, which left In with a bit of a question as to her role in all of this. She was just a trucker - generally, her place relative to a boardroom, investors, and CEOs was 'significantly below'. Far enough below as to be invisible. The thought was enough to keep her quiet for the first part of Tilon's pitch, the sense that she was out of her depth and above her station. What did she even hope to do here? She was helping Niysha sell her statues so she could get a cut for the mess on Medi-Creen, she was helping Tilon form his expedition so Niysha could sell her statues, and her best-case scenario for this whole operation had started as a plausible line-item on Tilon's expenditures report so people didn't ask too questions about her getting paid and getting the hell out of Grek.

Such thoughts could wait. They must wait. In jumped into the discussion between Tilon and Lord Vanvurdil, exuding confidence that she didn't really feel and bringing a few years of storied freighter experience (and a childhood aboard a Silk Holdings cartography operation) to bear. More than any technical expertise, In focused on building Tilon up - accentuating his points and jumping on questions she knew he didn't have an answer for.

Rolling:
Aiming to get over a 10 on an Aid Another roll. If I succeed, Tilion gets +2 to his ultimate roll for this. If I fail, he doesn't.

 

[Tilon Quill]

The whole fear is good thing demanded his attention as he went inside the business block. Not because anything felt off about his...what, out-of-body experience, inward vision, navel-gaze? But because nothing felt off about it. She'd simply been right, despite being so out of step with the Jedi teachings he'd grown up with: not to give fear traction; not to meditate inward, but to turn outward to the Force and to others. He had the unsettling feeling that the dark he'd felt in the guided experience was some natural state that resonated well with aspects of himself he hadn't recognized.

It sure as hell did not feel like the Dark Side of his childhood in the Sith academy. It wasn't like Niysha was a Sith Lord trying to corrupt him. Nothing felt off.

This was not where his mind needed to be. Not now. At least In was picking up the slack. And Vanvurdil seemed well taken with the three of them, groomed and coiffed and better-dressed as they were. Nothing for it now but to clinch the opportunity.

At which point, win or lose, this sense of community he'd built with these two might come to an end. He didn't want it to, but there it was. A fear that had grown and lurked behind so many little decisions.

Let go of what you fear to lose, he told himself, and dug in.


Rolling at +3

 

[Tilon Quill]

He'd been bracing himself to fail and grasp the Force and try to bend probability in the nuanced ways that sapient choices required. He was almost, somehow, disappointed that it wasn't necessary. In fact the deal was coming together exactly as foreseen. He didn't quite know what to do with that. In and Nysh would, though, absolutely.

He put his finger on the thing about the lie, in that moment of relief. In the context of helping someone, he'd only ever lied to them when they wouldn't have accepted help from him or someone like him. And that didn't quite answer it, but it got him to a place where he could live with the ambiguity. Nobody owed anyone the truth about themselves, he figured.

In Rhan Niysha

 

[Niysha]

Through victory.

Niysha breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the aura of one Mr. Vanvurdil was open and receptive. As it turned out, coming in with a full night's sleep and a belly full of food made all three of them much better at negotiating. Adding to that the actual collateral that Tilon could now front for his wild scheme... well, it was good to have a win sometimes. Especially if that "sometimes" came the very day after she'd faced a rather embarrassing and mildly crushing defeat. Maybe not enough to restore her confidence, but she'd have time for that later.

While leaving the actual business discussion to In, Niysha made sure to keep the conversation steered away from topics that caused any murky shades to show up in their prospective partner. She wasn't the one who was going to be shaking hands, of course. That was for Tilon - the victor - and maybe In - the saleswoman. She was just moral support.

As usual, Niysha strayed far too close to Jedi teachings. Jedi "heresy," she was relatively sure her contemporaries would call it. She placed far too great a value on facilitating victory for others rather than claiming it for herself. Even her first master had been more active than this. At some point, she'd need to face the music and brute force something. Today, though, the soft touch had gotten exactly what she desired, and satiating greed was a sacred act so profound that even her meek, cowardly, feeble self couldn't bear to fail that particular prayer.

For now, though, she smiled over at In, who - Niysha felt - desperately needed that win. She'd deal with the fallout of her little decision to calm Tilon's spirit later. Probably not much later, honestly. He was starting to seem distracted.

"As for our timetable for a return investment, Mr. Vanvurdil, the earliest profits might return as quickly as a month or two, with the sales of the first maps. Such sales would be made at a premium from the normal price per unit, on account of their limited nature. That will offset the lack of gross unit sales somewhat, but the real value in the first release is in advertising."

In had her own specialties. Niysha, apparently, was partially fluent in business jargon. Maybe some of Adekos' lessons actually were rattling around in her empty, idiot skull.

In Rhan Tilon Quill

 

[In Rhan]

In might've not been the best salesperon in the Galaxy, but she knew when to close a deal and get some paperwork in order - and that time was approaching. Tilon Quill had big promises about the future, Niysha translated them into Businessghoul with amazing skill, and In did her best to keep everyone jocular. It was best to transition from 'investing in Tilon's project' to 'excited discussions about OUR project' as quickly as possible. Discussions were had, details worked out, and preliminary paperwork passed around for review. This, too, In understood - navigating layers of bureaucracy was a critical skill if you wanted to, say, haul volitile coolant across national borders for business interests. Illegaly or otherwise.

Of couse, the actual paperwork would take more than some handshakes and a couple of loose contracts. This was just the first date. Everything past this part, In supposed, was between Tilon and the no doubt more qualified staff he elected to bring on board. Surely her role in all of this was essentially over, as she was mostly just qualified to drive a freighter and make salads. Speaking of,

While Niysha was cajoling their new patron, In found a moment to pat Tilon on the shoulder and grin. "After this, you want to swing by our ship for dinner to celebrate? Got some cider with it, if you're interested."

 

[Tilon Quill]

He did want that. Right now he wanted that more than he'd wanted anything. This wasn't relief, this was his body still revved higher on stress than the situation warranted, really: Vanvurdin's balancesheets weren't stone-monsters on Yavin or predatory fungus on Gadma Station or the prospect of dying a million parsecs from home. Maybe at some level, the fight for the life he wanted meant more to him than actually staying alive, and he didn't look forward to unpacking that thought. He wanted to unwind and he wanted that drink with good solid associates like any normal person. He wanted that to be his life.

---

Later, after he'd messaged home to share the news, he beeped the hatch of In's ship. Or was it their ship together? He couldn't remember if they'd told him, or whether they'd mentioned how long they'd traveled together. Enigmatic people in their way. He'd repeatedly felt the feeling that they didn't trust easily, maybe not even each other.

His current best guess was that Nysh was, like him, a former Sith acolyte with enough intervening life to put that experience in perspective and take what they needed from it. His current best guess was that she owed In money, enough to matter but not enough - not enough money, not enough time elapsed - to hurt. Maybe their connection was collapsing into a stable configuration like a loth-cat in an isotope box with a fifty percent chance of life.

The hatch opened and he went in to see what kind of ship these people lived in.

"I brought music," he called in.

In Rhan Niysha

 

[Niysha]

A victory lap was due. Niysha and In didn't really have the money to splurge a second time - they'd absolutely done that the night before, and the Force had rewarded their bold action with success. There was probably a lesson to be learned there, and for once, Niysha might actually learn it. Her life had been markedly improving recently, with the the notable exception of dropping out of hyperspace within close orbit of a star, and that probably had something to do with her willingness to take risks and follow through on them.

It wasn't something Niysha was used to. Keeping her head down and hiding was a much more effective way of staying safe and successful enough that she could at least eat and avoid notice. Now, she was running dangerous jobs across the entire galaxy with In, taking on ancient broken relics, seeing forgotten worlds, suffering hyperspace malfunctions, breaching the literal edge of the galaxy... it was all, of course, very dangerous. But the result had been this.

"This" being the Dancer in Green.

As they were expecting company, Niysha had opted for her casual and modest comfort clothes, a simple, breezy top and loose pants, with what looked to be the exact same simple cloth blindfold she always wore. She'd spent about half the morning tending to the garden, and was finishing up the second half of it in her seat at the galley table, stretched out and lounging with a datapad fired up for... something.

And in came company. "Good afternoon, Mr. Quill," she greeted not when she heard the hatch open, but when she saw Tilon approaching through two walls. "Feel free to avail yourself of the kitchen. We've got tea and caff to spare."

In Rhan Tilon Quill

 

[In Rhan]

The Dancer in Green was a large, long freighter with a beaten exterior. Some of it was old damage, but to a trained eye it was fairly clear that the hauler had recently been through some considerable repairs. In had made her Besdaid medium-class freighter into a home, a greenhouse. Unfortunately, the first introduction one got to it when entering through the hatch was the cargo bay, which was dominated by several massive, pressurized fluid tanks filled to the brim with algae slurry being fed by nutrient tubes.

The rest of the ship, though, was much more cozy. Most of the crew living spaces had been converted into refrigerated storage, which had been used for a variety of cold-weather plants. The reminder of the living space - four bedrooms, a galley, and a personal storage area that'd been converted into a makeshift medbay. The walkways had several hydroponic trays constructed along the walls with a variety of Miraluka-visible electronic labels on them, a complicated series of UV lights and misters keeping the variety of herbs, flowers, and fragrant plants happy. Larger pots dotted the corners and rooms, containing berry bushes, small trees, and other larger plants like tea bushes. Most of them served some sort of purpose, mostly dietary. A handful were just there to provide ambience or visual beauty.

The Galley was the largest room in the living area of the ship, dominated by a large round couch with a collapsible table opposite an open kitchenette that had been retrofit with an herb dryer for processing herbs, tea, and tobacco. The amount of pillows on the couch, the proximity of viewscreens and books, and general comfortable vibe of the Galley suggested that this was where most of the time was spent by the residents of the ship. The scent of earth, water, and green almost hid the more familiar aromas of rusty bulkheads and sterilized, ionized air from the life support.

Beside the table sat a potted orange tree on a mobile - but currently anchored - sled. The tree had been adorned with what looked like a costume nurses' hat and stethescope, the pot around its roots holding a half-dozen bottles of cider fermented by In herself using the various fruits and berries grown on the ship.

In herself was in that kitchenette, hard at work. Having a taste for authentic food and a willingness to get her hands dirty learning new skills meant that the Pantoran was something of an amateur cook. A plate of freshly-warmed tortillas sat beside her as she carefully fried a mixture of ground shaak from her frozen supplies. Sliced produce flanked the arrangement - peppers, leafy greens, a mixture of onions, garlic, shredded cheese, sour cream and tomatos diced up into a bowl. The air was heavy with herbs and spices.

In herself wore an old pair of bell bottoms and a loose tie-dye top, her hair tied back and covered with a black scarf. A fragrant cigarette hung from let lip as she intently cooked, greeting Tilon with a dorky smile that was slightly too wide for her face. "Hey! Grab a drink! Scale of one-to-three, how spicy do you like things?"

Tilon Quill Niysha

 

[Tilon Quill]

"Good afternoon, Mr. Quill," she greeted not when she heard the hatch open, but when she saw Tilon approaching through two walls. "Feel free to avail yourself of the kitchen. We've got tea and caff to spare."

"Hey! Grab a drink! Scale of one-to-three, how spicy do you like things?"

Tilon followed Nysh's voice through the cargo bay and what seemed like either cargo or the means to ferment it. (What exactly In had meant by 'cider' was not, at this point, clear, and Tilon felt great relief when it became so.) The galley unfolded before him. Between the tree, the herb dryer, and the general scent of nearby garden—

"Call it a two, I've got nothing to prove." Tilon unshouldered his bag. "Of course you'd be plant people. We should talk seeds. A quarter of my little ship is aquaponics."

He helped himself to an almost-familiar tea with the hesitation of someone who'd been invited to a kitchenette in use but didn't know the layout intuitively. He managed it without getting in In's way too much.

He held up a small music player. "Mood, preferences? And also - Nysh - any chance you glanced inside that holocron before it went off to the great collateral cupboard in the sky? My dad was asking."

In Rhan Niysha

 

[In Rhan]

In's face lit up once she realized she was in the company of a fellow gardener. "I wanted to get into aquaponics, but I simply don't have the space - and the amount of water I'd need makes it prohibitively expensive." The Pantoran sighed, sounding genuinely regretful. "The ship I grew up on had an aquaponics bay, though. Big old Pathfinder-Class, had one of the belly bays fitted with a big lotus farm." She explained. "I learned how to swim in that farm, actually. Now that I'm grown - they probably shouldn't have let me swim in it."

Some memories couldn't be ruined by what'd come of the Seeker's short mission. Swimming in aquaponics was one of them.

"I'll absolutely talk shop with you, though." In promised, spinning her spatula in her palm. "I've got some cuttings and samples in storage if you'd like to do some trading. Nothing too exciting, though - exciting makes it hard to pass though customs." She explained as she returned to cooking. A bit more spicy added in the form of pepper slices - fresh and pickled - and a pinch of powder from a jar. "I'll take you down into the chilly garden after dinner if you like."

"Play something with a little swing in it, though!" In chirped. "And some brass! I've been on a smazzo kick."

Niysha Tilon Quill

 

[Niysha]

Niysha's expression was complicated. Her response was careful and not nearly as confident as she would've liked. "It was... uncooperative. Jedi relics are tricky. I never managed to get it to do more than activate." Yes. Jedi relics. She could already feel the suspicions being confirmed. Hopefully they could get some fajitas into Tilon before he started asking questions about whether or not she ate babies and slept with a blanket made of human skin. Doubly so because she actually did have a couple of very uncomfortable Sith relics in her room, one of which was probably made of human skin.

She took a sip of her caff and a deep breath, letting it linger to steady her nerves. No matter how this ended, it wouldn't be easy to start. And while Niysha's spirit was consumed with anxiety, her higher brain did realize that Tilon was about the least hostile person she'd ever met, and had a background sympathetic to her situation. Most likely she didn't really need to hide.

She'd get to it when it came up. No reason to rush.

"I'm fond of jizz, but smazzo is fine. Anything with a kloo horn, to be honest."

Tilon Quill In Rhan

 

[Tilon Quill]

Smazzo he could do. He set the little player in an advantageous spot and got the wailhorns wailing and the trap skins trapping. Not center-of-attention loud, just background music.

"I'd love to swap," he told In as he fine-tuned the acoustic fiddly bits. "I'm parked just a few bays off — I fly a shuttle called the North Ridge. I've got some exotics but not the kind that cause problems. I do have one perennial flower that grows a crystal core the size of a thumbnail."

He took a seat in the obvious place, a part of the comfortable galley in the shelter of the orange tree. The tea was just right.

All of the above gave him time to figure out what to say next, because Nysh was most likely talking about a case where a Jedi holocron would refuse to talk to a Darksider. Talking about it opaquely. Why? Politesse? No. To keep it over In's head? Doubtful and to no clear end. To sound out Tilon in some way, test if he'd read that moment right and how he'd respond? Maybe warmer. Or just because she didn't know whether or how to tackle a what are you and what am I and how much does it matter conversation any better than he did?

"My dad told me once that generations of holocron makers overreacted to someone named Exar Kun weaponizing their work. A lot of holocrons used to be open access. They started defaulting to control and suspicion after that — about five thousand years ago. Fit the right box or it won't talk. Good chance I couldn't have got it talking either." Probably a better chance than Nysh, sure — no matter how weak, he was a Jedi Knight and wouldn't trip most of the usual safeguards — but that didn't need to be said and wasn't useful. "Anyways, if trying to crack it was a big deal I'd have spoken up by now. I'm sure someone will figure it out sooner or later and the Core Worlds will praise a newly discovered holo manuscript of Bodo Baas' Cladistics of Burlap."

In Rhan Niysha

 

[In Rhan]

Aside from what she saw on the news from time to time, In had had very little idea of what constituted a Jedi, Sith, or their various artifacts. She hadn't even seen one until she'd run into Niysha trying to save an entire station by putting her own life on the line for no other reason than Andros and his crummy diner - and then she'd found out that Niysha had been one of the bad, red ones and not one of the good blue-or-green ones. So she'd had to evaluate what she knew anew, starting with her partner and going from there.

After all, Niysha was one of the more selfless people In knew. If she wasn't a good person, nobody was.

That said, the Pantoran woman had less than no idea what a Holocron or whatever was. As Tilon Quill and Niysha started talking shop, she kept herself busy in the kitchen - nearby enough to listen in on conversation and perhaps offer input, but clearly focused on cooking and bouncing to decent smazzo music.

 

[Niysha]

"Yeah, well," Niysha began in a hesitant tone, awkwardly tapping the side of her caff mug. "You definitely would've fit the box better than me."

Courage. Deep breath. Niysha waited until Tilon had taken a seat by the table, steeling herself the whole while. Then a little while longer. She knew she couldn't put it off forever, but maybe another ten seconds wouldn't hurt. She realized that this was a self-defeating process. If she took any longer, she'd just keep making awkward silences.

Courage. Exhale. "Obviously I didn't learn that trick from my grandmother," she confirmed needlessly. "And obviously I didn't want to bring up 'hey by the way I've got a bright red lightsaber tucked away in my bag' in front of someone I'd just met - first day, first twenty minutes - before I'd confirmed that you probably weren't the type to go on a crusade about it." Niysha set her jaw, her tone a bit more serious. "Whatever danger befalls me because of what I am, I wasn't going to let it happen to In."

Good to go so far. She was relatively sure Tilon wasn't about to call the guards or whip out his weapon and try to end the nebulous threat she might pose to others right there in front of all of their plants. "I'm not the type to subjugate or hurt or consume anybody. I just want to be left alone to do my thing, and I've gone out of my way to make sure I don't bother anyone."

Tilon Quill In Rhan

 

[Tilon Quill]

Some of that was new but none of it felt like a surprise. None of it sparked fear. He'd worried it would when he heard it.

Tilon indicated In with a lean of his head. "I know," he said to Nysh. "Anyone can say anything, but she's your bona fides. I've worked with Sith, the few that can live as people among people. I wish more Jedi lived that way too."

He didn't name Mercy ; he didn't figure she and Nysh would get along on the off chance they knew each other. Probably not well at all.

The tea was lukewarm now; he drank the rest and set it aside.

"So the ship's yours?" he asked In, eager to keep just being a person now that the essentials — I won't be killing you, you won't be killing me — were settled. "Lots of new work on it and you've clearly settled in; you figure you'll be in this one long-term? Any mods in mind?"

 

[In Rhan]

In nodded idly, stubbing her cigarette out in a tray. She ground shaak in a bowl, and the whole thing was ready. The Pantoran woman gave a broad, warm smile as she transfered burrito ingredients over to the table. "We had a rough spot before washing up here. Heading along Iokaido when some sort of anomaly dropped us out over here." She explained with a mild frown. "Blue star, old battlefield. We barely limped way. Most of this arrangement of ours is going into replenishing our savings."

In sank down into the galley seat with a bottle of blackberry cider, cracking the bottle open with a satisfying hiss. "After leaving home, I drove a bit for Blastech. Short-haul stuff, jumper work." She continued. "That and some burlesque on the side bought me The Dancer at a miracle price. I COULD fly something else, but this is home. I don't want to."

Shaak on tortilla. Cheese, cream, veggies and veggies and veggies. In wrapped a tidy little burrito with a strong vein of hot sauce, gesturing with the tube once it was finished. "No big plans for mods. I already converted half the crew quarters into refrigeration, and routed a good potion of the life support's heat sinks into the hull. It's got a layered system called a Golem plate meant to diffuse energy across an area, but that means it's real good for managing excess heat."

She gave Niysha an apologetic look. "Provided you don't get inexplicably dropped onto a blue star."

Niysha Tilon Quill

 

[Niysha]

With the heavy conversation over, Niysha availed herself of the lunch In had been preparing. By the time she'd sat down, her partner was already denigrating herself again by trying to accept blame for things totally outside her control. It was difficult not to stop her, but taking the effort was a necessary show of respect. After the event, Niysha had blamed herself for the extensive damage to the ship that she had had extremely minimal control over; now, In was blaming herself for physical damage that Niysha had sustained in that attempt.

In was a reasonable person. She also knew that it wasn't her fault, and likely that she was being unreasonable. Rather than bring it up, Niysha just gave a calming wave and sat back down with her plate of wrapped veggie-meat-hot sauce goodness. This would do by way of apology for the thing that neither of them had any control over.

"There aren't a lot of ways to improve its power or shielding; both are top-of-their-class. It's relatively fast, and we have no need of weapons," the Miraluka chimed in between bites. She'd managed to tune down how quickly she ate recently; she wasn't often in a hurry, and there was plenty of natural, nutritious food that she didn't need to fight for it. "Which leaves only internal changes, and as far as that goes, we might be in a unique position to upgrade a few systems, considering how many of them were fried recently."

Conscious decision. Niysha did not say "how many I fried," no matter how much she wanted to. Neither of them could have done anything about their most recent disaster.

Tilon Quill In Rhan