Private Fast Track to Creds

[Devin Virell]

Shani Ryder​

Devin wasn’t exactly sure when he’d drifted this far off the Path.. only that it had happened quietly, the way a ship slips off without anyone touching the controls. One day he was flying an X‑wing over Odessa on another patrol run. The next, that same starfighter sat in a hangar he hadn't seen in months while he rode a commercial transport bound for Nar Shaddaa. Somewhere between all the hyperspace lanes, he’d begun to lose his purpose..

Not the first time he’d slide backward either. The lower levels of Coruscant had a way of imprinting on people.. on him, especially. Nar Shaddaa was a mirror. And since that battle over Atrisia, a piece of him loosened. The lucky bastard energy, though? That was still there. Devin was on a streak these last few nights. Not enough to get rich.. but plenty enough to stay interested. The House of Iron was exactly where he planned to keep it going, too.

He weaved through the crowds with that usual rhythm of swagger and survival instinct. A worn jacket was hanging open at the collar. The thing had seen better years.. never mind days. Frayed seams, there was a patch or two barely hanging on, and it had even survived a handful of scrapes out back. Under that was a plain shirt. Cargo pants that no longer carried their original color and scuffed boots finished the look. Just one outfit to his name besides that infamous orange flightsuit.

Music thumped through the floor, bass vibrating. The air was a mix of perfume and questionable ambition. Pupils were blown wide, and it wasn’t from the lighting. Something was buzzing under the surface. Wrong crowd again; so, with them came the wrong habits. He’d quit again soon. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Then it came into view, the sabacc table, a divine altar that always called. Typical Corellian Spike rules.. just the way he liked it. Devin slid into an open seat and tossed his credits into both the main and sabacc pot as if he’d been doing this since he first learned to walk. The dealer was sentient, which he preferred. Droids couldn’t be bribed.. and they didn’t really have tells either. Sentients had everything. Tonight it was a Mirialan. His expression was blank.. too professional. Definitely trying too hard. And that made Devin’s lips curve with mirth.

Two cards slid across the table. Of course, he caught them with ease, shielding them from the others. His awareness was sharp; the tap of a heel under the table, a Nikto’s jaw clenching every time he tried to relax. Maybe this was home.. not the ship or the Path.. just this chaos.

A grin came easily. “Well,” he drawled, “I just want to say, statistically? One of you is about to lose everything you own, and it’s.. probably not me. Luck and I are finally back on speaking terms again.”

A Davorian scoffed, and another human muttered something under his breath. All of that was filed away. Every single reaction was a tool.

Some Nikto raised a brow. “You planning to play or just talk us to death?”

“Can’t multitask? Sad,” Devin shot back. “Mental tactics? Just garnish on the plate.”

He managed to coax an amused huff from the Miralian dealer that time. Finally, he leaned forward, elbows on the table and glanced back down to his cards.

Yeah. Maybe the Path was overrated.

“Alright. If I go broke tonight, I expect at least one of you to pretend you feel bad.”

 

[Shani Ryder]

Attire: Red & Black Leather Jacket, Black Pants with Red Race Stripe, White Cotton Shirt, and Black Boots​

It began long before the pale woman with the platinum hair set foot in the establishment, but it wasn't so great a crowd as to outmatch the sound within. Shani Ryder was a rising star in Swoop racing; some hailed her success partially to how much she played to the crowd even when there wasn't a race. No small number of those people also pointed out how liberally she threw around credits to those near her, and how that would garner support on almost any planet even if she was the worst swoop jockey in history. And she didn't care.

Of course, people liked free drinks. Take selfies with someone famous and crow about it to their friends. So they got a little something, and she got a little something. Actually, Shani got a lot of something, but her adoring fans didn't need to know -- and largely didn't care. So long as she excited and pampered them, they would adore and stick close to her.

Which is how she entered the club with a small group of people trying to stay in her orbit as others found along the way pushed their way in. Long as none of them started shooting one another, Shani found it was all in good fun. It was life, and she was all about celebrating that.

Dressed in a red and black leather jacket, Shani drew up along the bar and drew the bartender's attention. With a hand in the air, she declared, "A round for my friends!" Not top shelf, obviously, but free booze was free booze -- or whatever they ordered that was on the customary 'on the house' menu. She set a chit down atop the counter as people erupted in cheers. A means for them to settle the tab later. Oh, and for a 'modest' tip for all the work she'd provided -- to help deter any unexpected 'transaction fees.' Some people were truly surprised to find a 'clean glass fee' on their bill at times. This was Nar Shaddaa, you had to know how to play the game.

Russet rings fell on a muscular man that stood close by in the crowd. Shani smiled to herself, a hand ever so slowly sliding down her belly as she leaned back against the bar. It was the sound off to the side that drew her attention, however. Always time to make intimate friends. The night had just begun. So, she scooped up a drink and headed off toward the sabacc table. There'd been a small exclamation of surprise at someone noticing their drink was missing, but she didn't bother to figure out who or what the fuss was about.

"Go for broke, I like it," Shani purred as she dropped herself into a seat at the table. "Deal me in, House, I'm good for it." An easy smile was cast in the Mirialan's direction. Credits pulled from her pocket were 'sprinkled' over the table from between her fingers, and snatched out of the air before they struck the surface. He gave her cards, she tossed the slips into the pot. Simple transaction.

"So," she turned to look at the feisty one of the table, Devin, "what's a pretty mouth like you doing at a sabacc table like this?"

Devin Virell

 

[Devin Virell]

Shani Ryder
​

“Well, well, look who just showed up to make my lucky streak feel threatened.”

Devin’s gaze flicked up from the table, wide from the glitterstim buzzing, tracking the newcomers' approach like a starfighter lining up a target. Red and black huh.. colors that screamed trouble and style. She moved like she owned the light, and maybe she did. So, he decided to let himself mirror just a fraction of that confidence, leaning back with the air of someone completely in their element.

His brow lifted, the lazy curl of another smile appearing. “Yeah?” he drawled, pearly teeth flashing, just enough to hint at amusement. “Are you still going to feel bad if that happens, though?” A hand tapped the edge of the table like he wasn’t thinking. “Not that I care.. much. But I do like an audience that actually notices.”

Eyes sharp, he continued following shifts in others around the table. The Nitko’s jaw was a fraction too tight now, almost comical. And whatever the other human was muttering, it was barely audible. Then, back up to the woman who just claimed the spotlight.

“Slide me another, House.” The dealer slid a card toward him, and Devin snagged it halfway. Fingers lingered on the edge, feeling the old school grain. A quick peek at the card’s corner revealed nothing but potential.

“I could say I’m here to practice my refined Corellian etiquette. Or, you know.. statistically speaking, I’m just chasing a thrill I probably shouldn’t have. Odds are against me, and I like those odds. Watching strangers sweat? That’s the real prize.”

Devin let his focus purposely drift toward her own hand for a heartbeat. “You,” tilting his head just so, “are you in this for the fun? Or do you secretly enjoy making folks nervous? Asking for a friend. Mostly me. Definitely me.” A shrug, one shoulder rising as if to punctuate the question.

“Name’s important in games like this. Mine’s Devin. What’s yours.. or are we doing this like a proper mystery?”

​

 

[Shani Ryder]

Attire: Red & Black Leather Jacket, Black Pants with Red Race Stripe, White Cotton Shirt, and Black Boots​

"I'd feel real bad if I took all your credits," Shani replied without missing a beat. There was a fraction of a second's pause for a smile. "Honest. But that's what keeps it exciting, isn't it? Knowing you could lose it all in an instant. One bad bet and it's over."

Devin had swagger. Whether he had the skills or luck to back it up, he talked a very good game. Leagues better than the rest at the table.

"One for the money, two for the show, House." Shani's russet gaze turned back to the Dealer. Not that she had bothered to look at the first card yet. There was still one to go. Besides, the anticipation was more fun when you were kept in the dark for as long as possible and then had to make a snap decision. Who needed minutes to study the cards and formulate a plan. This was sabacc! Worst that happened was you lose credits. The money wasn't even the most enticing part of the game!

Devin sought her attention, and she was happy to grant it. Seemed Mister Confidence over there thought he was dealing with the statistically short end of the stick. Sure, chance had a hand in things, but not any more than skill. Skill with the cards, and the people; and Shani thought the man certainly knew how to rattle cages.

Laughter followed his question about her motives. "The thrill, of course! Always the thrill. You can't play a good game or race a good swoop if you don't have the mind for it, but you never know what'll happen even when you have it all planned out. What twist will life throw at you? What decision do you have to make in a split second? How much will it cost you? Risk, gentlemen! That's the thing." Shani clasped her hands atop the table and leaned forward, her eyes slowly scanning those present. "I hope you all came prepared."

Then Devin asked The Question. Her eyebrows rose in its wake. "You don't know who I am?" A single hand pressed over the center of her chest between the round mounds of her breasts. "That hurts. I'll have to speak to the event's promoter about this." The hand lifted to needlessly brush back a few strands of platinum hair to call attention to her knife-like ear. "Shani Ryder." A beat. "Red Dagger? Swoop Racing. You gentlemen do watch the races, don't you? Come on," she rocked back in her seat, "don't try to pretend you aren't watching for the next crash."

Devin Virell

 

[Devin Virell]

Shani Ryder

​

Well, now he was looking at her much like a ship scanning the horizon for both threat and.. opportunity? Shani Ryder.. Red Dagger. The name itself was another spark in the otherwise predictable chaos one would expect to find on Nar Shaddaa. Devin's gaze returned to her, because she wasn't just another player; she was a variable making this hand just a little more interesting.

"Red Dagger, huh?"

Maybe it was the glitterstim, maybe it was something else, but it felt like he’d been handed a perfect cue. “You’d feel bad, sure.. until I blink, and suddenly my credits help burn whatever your pastime might be.”

Leaning back forward, eyes narrowed in mock calculation. “Exciting, though, yeah, I get that. That rush right before everything collapses.. it’s kind of addictive, ain’t it? One bad bet, the sudden risk. Makes your heartbeat almost feel like.. music.”

Devin’s head tipped, eyes narrowing in the lazy way of someone savoring sound. So, a thrill chaser, through and through. One of those people who thinks life is best lived at high velocity.. perfect. That was a language he could speak in his sleep.

A small drag of his tongue over the inside of his cheek.. habit, thought, restraint, everything wrapped together.

“See.. here’s the thing. People talk about plans like they actually stick to them. I never have much of anything planned out. Look, I don't even plan breakfast." When he looked down at the table, it was only to check his own reflection in the chips. “Never saw the point. Life doesn’t wait for you to write a neat little strategy. It just.. moves, yeah?”

A breath of laughter, except that this one was fueled by memory. “Split second decisions. Yeah. I know all about those too.”

He tapped a fingertip against a credit chip.. once, twice.

“House..” A single syllable stretched, attention bound to her as if she were the real game here. “Hit.”

The card slid free of the deck. A whisper across. Maybe a promise. Or a warning? You never knew until the damage was done. But this time he didn’t reach for it immediately. Instead, he just let it settle.

Angled right at him, it was daring to be lifted. He felt Shani watching, felt the others watching too. Surely, she would understand, right? The outcome didn't matter.. it was that one little moment before. A thumb brushed the corner. Funny thing, those cards. Little slices of probability that had more weight than all the choices he'd made in the past month combined. Lifting the edge, it was just barely enough for a tiny glimpse. Time to decide on how honest he was being with himself tonight? Not yet.

“..Well now. Guess the night really wants to see how stupid I’m willing to get.”

The irritation rolling off the Nikto could’ve been tasted like bad caf. Devin didn’t even need to look directly at him to clock it. Not yet. There were ways to listen without the ears, and the table was telling him plenty. Gambler’s intuition? Who knew. Annoyance.. resentment. Maybe jealously, even. Was he talking too much? Sure. Did it bother Sky Rat? Not even a little.

Devin breathed in once, slowly, unapologetically, and wasn’t going to be embarrassed for what he said next. “Gotta tell you straight. I don’t watch the races." Just the truth. “Haven’t had the time. Past year’s been a complete blur. Been strapped to the cockpit. The Imps don’t fight themselves."

He drummed the card he’d just drawn once. “So yeah, sitting down to watch other people go fast.. that feels a little like homework.”

Nonchalant, his attention cut to the Nitko, letting him know he acknowledged the tension, before right back to Shani again. “But hey. You make a pretty damn compelling case that I should’ve started. So go on, Red Dagger.”

Then, effortlessly Devin. The smile stayed put, and now he was more than ready to have a drink in hand. “Enlighten someone who’s clearly been culturally deprived. If I’ve been missing out, this is the perfect chance to sell me on the show.”

 

[Shani Ryder]

Attire: Red & Black Leather Jacket, Black Pants with Red Race Stripe, White Cotton Shirt, and Black Boots​

"Too many to count," Shani laughed to Devin's quip about her spending his creds on pastimes.

"Music, huh? Romantic." A slight shrug accompanied the words. "Just don't feel alive unless I'm living." Hadn't really given it a lot of thought. Well, that wasn't true. She had in the beginning, and ever since then the avalanche just kept gaining speed down the mountain.

Shani tilted her head a bit to the side and smile across at Devin as he went on about not even planning breakfast. Kind of cute, really. "Either you move, or people will move you. I don't plan on letting people get the chance to dictate where I end up." A soft grunt accompanied a rueful shake of her head. "Except for Swoop One, of course. They arrange the races, I go where the races are." Eh, nothing in life was perfect.

"Do you?" The platinum woman leaned forward in Devin's direction as he spoke of spit-second decisions. "Bodes well for someone playing Sabacc. Never know when your opponents are bluffing." Did that mean something? Was it itself a bluff? A smile was the woman's only answer to the unasked questions.

Her russet eyes watched Devin not the card dealt. No words were needed. The others were annoyed, but neither she nor her talkative new friend care what they thought. Maybe if they had said something interest, or thrown in a handful of credits to spice the pot. After several seconds, her middle finger tapped the table twice to signal the dealer to give her a third as well. "Three to get ready." She tossed in a few credits still having not even looked at the cards.

An eyebrow raised, her head turned slightly to the side at Devin's comment of fighting Imps. Fighter pilot, huh? Now they had something in common.

"For you? Someone that lives on the edge? Competition. Watching to see if there's any new techniques you need to handle out there in the world. See if someone tries the same counter you thought of, and if it works. When you're living at lightspeed, you don't usually get a do-over; so if someone else does it first it might spare you a life." Shani chuckled, seemingly not bothered discussing potentially lethal consequences. "Or, perhaps just to cheer on your favorite racer. Watch them narrowly avoid slamming head-first into an obstacle. Vicariously get your thrills when you're laying in bed. Nothing wrong with taking a break now and then." Her brows lifted slightly as she smiled across at him. Obviously, she expected he'd be cheering for her.

"But now you have my curiosity, Devin. I'd love to see your starfighter someday. I happen to have a s fighter, myself. Perhaps we could take to the stars together for a spin?"

Devin Virell