For Pleasure and Profit

[Bethany Haverford]

Bethany was prompt if not early for her meeting with Lord Mephirium. Given subtle clues in his words the day before, she had packed for a mission more of stealth than combat, though it was somewhat outside her usual forte. Only the blades hidden strategically on her person gave her comfort; a blaster at her hip was the only visible weapon on her. She had foregone-- though packed-- her uniform for the same reason, resorting to a more casual navy jacket, white shirt and navy pants.

The ship she assumed they would be taking stood alone in the dock, ramp open, implying that a crew was still preparing the ship or her lord had gone on ahead of her. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and started up the ramp, her dark boots ringing out on the metal.

A two-man mission consisting of herself and the leader of their entire. A personal mission, he had called it, and it was, but she felt there was more going on than what she was privvy to.

Highly irregular, her first training commander would have said.

He was an interesting man.

"My lord?" she called, glancing about the empty entrance to the ship.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Mephirium had clamored aboard not long before the Colonel had showed up.

He hadn't brought much by way of belongings. A suitcase of some rather simple trappings and a Wester-35 at his hips was all he carried. He had discarded his ceremonial combat armor for now, opting for a much more civilian look - a hooded leather jacket, combat boots, and black pants. All in all, he looked every bit the smuggler he was hoping to emulate.

"Colonel," Mephirium set his weight against the bulkhead and folded his arms over his chest, "Right on time, as always. You ready to get underway? The sooner we get there, the sooner we find the chip."

He was all professionalism today. Before, he had attempted to broach issues that should have otherwise gone unsaid. He could not be entirely open with her. There were already rumors that he was very much his father's son when it came to Colonel Haverford. He would do nothing to perpetuate such rumors, or provide the woman with any reason to think they might be true. Even if he still caught himself looking from time to time.

"Zeltros is a bit wild. My usual attire wouldn't fit the theme, if you get what I mean." He pushed off the wall and motioned toward the direction of the cockpit. "Shall we?"

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

"Of course, my lord."

She followed him to the cockpit, taking the copilot's chair and settling her bag in beside her. The trip would be a long one, and she would have time to locate her accommodations once they were on their way.

As she had expected, Mephirium took care of the flying, leaving her free to stow her belongings and complete some of the work he had assigned to her before they left. Certainly, she could have left it all in Moff Joffie's hands, but these were responses to her own concerns. It was doubtful that Moff Joffie's work would overlap with hers.

She glanced up when the ship indicated they were preparing to drop out near Zeltros, and she set her work aside. Mephirium had been distant on the trip, focused on his own thoughts she thought. With a sidelong glance, she studied his face before she broke the silence. "Where will we begin?"

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Kaigann had last broadcast his position somewhere in the southern hemisphere. Mephirium knew the particular city well - Varus and his woman had absconded to it when they had grown tired of the Jedi Order. Part of Mephirium began to wonder what the younger man was up to these days; what he might think of the decisions his former teacher had made as of late.

The Colonel's gaze drew him from his thoughts.

"He came here for a buyer. They both frequented a particular bar." Mephirium mumbled a curse as they began to break through the atmosphere. He always hated this part. The ship began to shake, though it was not enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He was still in control.

"We'll buy a room in the motel across from it. Scope the place out. See who we can't find. I have a few descriptions of folks worth talking to." He flashed her an easy smile - - entirely in his element as the shuttle broke into Zeltros' skies. Night had already fallen over the Zeltron homeworld, and the city below was alive with lights. "We're staying on the ship, of course. The room is just a cover."

He shifted his gaze to the Colonel's then, and the smile widened ever-so-slightly. "Call me Cyril while we're here. Mephirium sound a bit overbearing for a bar hopper."

He only turned his attentions back to the skies when they began the landing sequence.

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

"It is the safest option,” she agreed, but continued to watch him surreptitiously as they descended to the surface. She didn't relish the thought of staying on Zeltros if this missing student was likely to find them or those who had made him disappear were likely to want to do the same to Bethany and Mephirium-- Cyril. The ship would be just fine by her.

Bethany whistled when they finally exited the spaceport and turned in a circle, taking in the sights of the city they were in. Zeltros was certainly something. She smiled cheerfully at one of the natives as he passed and carried on beside Mephirium, only barely registering the suggestive leer the Zeltron cast in her direction. It was a surprisingly positive atmosphere, one Annie appreciated on a superficial level: everywhere she looked people were conversing and conducting business-- and love, she noted as she politely averted her gaze from an all too self-absorbed couple--on the street without any altercations of any kind.

Annie gave a small group surrounding a provocative looking woman wide berth, invading Mephririum’s personal space and nearly running into him.

“How much further?” She inquired, slowing and turning around to try to peer into a shopfront full of colorful fabrics.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Zeltros was old hat for Mephirium. That did not, however, mean he enjoyed it. Yes, the rather positive atmosphere of the planet's cities was commendable, though Mephirium had more of a like for order rather than opulence. His gaze followed the Zeltron male as they passed by - unlike the Colonel, he caught the man's look. He returned it with one that might have been a threat of death.

He caught the woman with a careful arm, cracking a warm little smile as they continued down their way. "Just up the road actually. We'll scout the place out, see what's up." The grin faltered as she slowed by the shop. He checked his chrono. They had more than enough time.

"One of my old students moved here when he made knighthood. I spent some time here checking up on him," he paused to shove his hands into his pockets. "There's a bazaar not far from here. It isn't mission-relevant, but..." His words trailed off. She seemed particularly enamored with the place, sexual deviants notwithstanding.

Why not enjoy things for a little bit?

"No one has to know."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

What?

Her eyes flicked up to his, startled, as she turned fully back to him. She hadn't meant for her curiosity to impugn her professional standing. He didn't seem off-put, but there was an underlying tone to his final comment that made her question its motivations. Yes, the culture was interesting to her, and she wasn't about to hide that, but that wouldn't interfere with the task they'd set before themselves. Although they were playing the role of tourists, there was still a mission to be completed, and that always took priority.

"I'm sorry. I was simply taking stock of the area." She quirked a quick smile at him. New place, new people, new experience; her boss being at her side was a reminder that this was not a pleasure jaunt, but there were ways to turn his offer to her advantage without ruining her good reputation. And he had offered. It would be rude to refuse.

"I didn't mean to come across as distracted. If the individual you're looking for met someone here, it's likely that the longer-standing members of the bazaar might know who his contact would have been if it was someone who lives here." She paused as they ambled along, keeping pace with him. "And, if our task allows..." A glimmer of excitement sat in her hesitant glance. "There may be additional time to spend hunting in the bazaar after we've visited the bar?"

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Mephirium's intention were pure, though that was only from a certain point of view. He may or may not have wished to see Bethany happy. That was really nobody's business though. This was his operation, after all, and if he decided they had time, then they had time. Moff Jofffie had been a clever motherkarker in suggesting this.

"Afterword then." He tilted his head toward the Colonel and grinned. She was right, of course. They needed to focus on the objective before they ran off to do...what? Enjoy the evening like your usual young person? Such luxuries could not be permitted for them. Mephirium was keen on his claim to the Dark Lord's seat, and Bethany was one of his most trusted followers.

And still, he looked at her the way he always had.

"I'm positive we'll have enough time to, eh, look around the bazzar." Cyril Grayson snickered as he led her along the walkway toward the bar. It was a dingy little place wreathed in neon and held together by rusted metal. Patrons flowed in and out of the entrance with little break to the flow. Cyril slipped into it and gently pulled the Colonel inside with him.

Things wouldn't go well if they were separated.

"Alright. I figure we speak to the bartender, get a bearing on who spends time here."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

His grin was returned with a bright one of her own, but it faded to a jaded smirk as they approached the bar. Charming little affair.
She let her lord's tug ease her into the rush of traffic through the entrance. Bodies pressed against hers, bumping into her shoulders and back as they passed. She felt the edge of one of her hidden blades press into the small of her back and was comforted. Too many people meant obscured line of sight. They were assuming no one knew who they were; it was crowds like this were "accidents" befell people of note. And Mephirium was becoming a person of note. It was a reminder that she was as much a bodyguard as a second set of eyes while they were on Zeltros and, though her face reflected the exhilaration and wonder appropriate to her "first time" naievete, her body language shifted accordingly into that of a fighter on the defensive.

The clientele was not what she would call upper class and, for the first time, Annie was aware of why Zeltros had the reputation it did. She warily eyed a Twi'lek woman who squeezed by her with a friendly glance and slid her arm through Mephirium's, praying it was not overstepping a bound. It was only to keep him close, which was growing increasingly difficult; the crowds had not thinned at all inside the small bar and the patrons were rowdy.

When they were stopped by a half-drunk human careening into their path, she stopped and raised up on her tiptoes, her stranglehold on his arm forcing him to bend somewhat toward her level to even out the difference in their heights. "Quite a place to have a private meeting," she announced somewhat loudly near his ear, her chipper observation almost drowned out by the chatter and the musicians. "Bartender is down the far end for now; aim for the gap." She pointed at a single-person sized space along the bartop. They would make room as necessary.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Mephirium had never been big on cantinas. He didn't drink much more than the occasional Balmoraan Bluesky, and his time in the Jedi Order had been a dry one. Intoxication had never been becoming of one of their kind. Even know, he would not touch the swill. He needed to retain his senses; figure out what in Corellia's Nine Hells Kaigann had chosen this place to buy his wares. Odds were the seller had demanded such a place. If that were the case, then it was quite likely they would find little sign of the former Padawan.

That did not mean Mepirium wasn't going to try.

He stretched his presence outward, looking for the faintest flicker of power within the force. Everyone here was either hiding their capabilities, or not sensitive to the force. Mephirium chose to think it was the latter. Things made more sense that way.

An arm was slipped through his, and he made no move to stop her. Better they were not separated in a place like this. He bent down to hear her words, and could only then just barely make them out. Nodding, he led her down to that singular gap in the bar. It was particularly small, and his shoulders were pressed against hers, but they made it work. Folks could just assume they were an item. He didn't much give a damn.

"S'cuse me." He waved over the bartender.

The man was busy, but waddled on over anyway. "Drinking?"

Mephirium cracked a mischievous little smirk and held out a hand. "Do you know Kaigann Fossk?"

A haze fell over the balding man's eyes - then recognition. "Oi, yeh I know 'lil Kai. Was just 'n here 'bout two months ago. Went off with Ruddie's boys."

"Where is Ruddie."

"On a trip, I figure. S'pose to come back in three days. Ya want 'im, ya gotta wait."

Cyril mumbled a curse under his breath and ordered two glasses of Balmoraan Bluesky. He hadn't asked if Bethany drank. Didn't matter. He leaned down close to her and spoke loud enough that she might hear.

"We'll have to figure out who Ruddie is."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

She couldn't hear a word they were saying.

She periodically picked up bits and pieces of the conversation when Mephirium's voice became audible to her, but the bartender was unintelligible. Rather than drawing attention to them by seeming too invested in her lord's conversation, she casually surveyed the bar and its patrons, turning her back on the bartender and leaning her elbows back against the countertop, her side pressed flush against Mephirium's.

For such a small location, it did a good business, albeit from the rather seedy part of the population. Oddly, she was grateful for the vast amount of happy, eager prostitutes about; it saved her the trouble of having to dissuade drunken inquiries and allowed her instead to devote herself to their safety.

One patron was paying them far too much attention. Annie let her gaze slide by him as if she didn't notice his fixation, but she kept him in her peripheral, even when she had to attend to a polite response to an "excuse me" as the man next to her was jostled by another patron shoving his way up to the counter. Mephirium leaning down to her signaled that his conversation was over; Bethany tilted her head to expose an attentive ear to him as he pulled her back into the fold. Her smile easily widened at his nonsensical comment. Ruddie must be the contact on whom they needed to gather information; that might prove more easy than he imagined.

"Maybe the overly attentive snitch standing by that unusually phallic sculpture can help us."

A glance at his hands took in the two glasses, and she gave him a flirtatious grin as she took one from him, all too aware of their audience. "Thanks."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Phallic structure?

Mephirium snorted and turned his head down to the floor. His laughter was stifled by his forearm, but he still felt like the man in question was staring plainly at him. Mephirium allowed himself to take note of his posture - this one was quite interested in Bethany, it seemed. Cyril found that he didn't much like that.

Still, her easy smile made him crack a pleasant grin. His gaze remained locked upon her, ever playing the part of the interested suitor (some of such not being an act) and sipped his drink. Bluesky was sharp and the burn it left as it slid down your throat was cleansing to some. Mephirium rather enjoyed it at the least.

Cold cybernetic fingers slid around the Colonel's waist. His face dropped low. So did his voice. "Kai knew whoever this Ruddie guy is. Our pal over there seems a little bit too interested, like you said," he pulled upward to down half the glass, "I say we pay him a visit. Man might get lonely standing with nothing but his phallic structures for company."

He winked down at her and let his arm fell from her waist. They needed to find a way to get to this guy without causing a ruckus. His brow furrowed.

Easier said than done.

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

Bethany nodded in agreement and glanced around the room, looking for a relatively easy way to blockade the spy's escape routes until they got over there. Hallway. Tables. Patrons. Yes, that would work. Simple. They just had to hope he didn't run off to inform on them before they reached him.

She took a sip of her drink for appearance's sake and managed to keep the distaste from her face. Not her cup of tea. She glanced into her drink, then adjusted her grip on the glass and took it along for the ride. There was no way she was going to drink half the glass in one go as Mephirium had done and leaving it behind would be suspicious. She might not be a spy, but she could determine that much.

"I don't suppose you could secure him in place from a distance?" she asked politely before she took Mephirium's arm and led him in the opposite direction they needed to go, easing her way through the scattered tables and pockets of friendly and not-so-friendly idlers with Mephirium in tow.

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Mephirium considered such for a moment. He could likely root the man in place; he simply hadn't thought to. Bethany was proving to be too distracting. With narrowed eyes, he stared at their target. His lips pressed into a thin line as they circled around toward him. He still needed to play the part of the suitor, and so he did just that, settling a hand over the one that Bethany rested on his forearm.

"Perhaps if you ask nicely," Mephirium teased, "Give me a moment." He held out his free hand. The cybernetic digits whirred as he called upon the supposed-informant with the force, chaining him to his position. The process was a painful one, and Mephirium was forced to keep the man's mouth shut via telekinesis. He was going to scream other wise.

"Alright, he's held in place." His smile dissipated and his gaze flickered to her drink. "I like your priorities Bethany."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

"Well, someone is bound to need this before the night is over," she replied practically, careful not to slosh the drink as they navigated organic roadblocks. "Let's just hope it's him."

The look on the man's face, even from this distance, indicated the experience of being held was unpleasant. They were lucky he hadn't started screaming-- or, perhaps, luck had nothing to do with it. Annie just counted herself lucky. That was enough.

She caught the gaze of several women as she passed them, amused by the knowing looks they were directing at her as they glanced between her and her companion. Appearances were everything; Mephirium had cause to know that better than most, she imagined, but he didn't seem to mind the implications of their cover provided it was gaining them something.

"Now then," she said almost to herself as they came within a few feet of their target. His eyes followed them as best they could, given his immobility and the distraction encouraged by whatever was happening to him. Her voice raised to be heard over the music as she smiled winningly at the terrified man. "Shall we take a walk together? This place is too noisy for conversation."

As she slid her hand from Mephirium's arm, she slipped a blade from one of her wrist sheaths. Thus armed, she handed her glass to her lord with a grateful smile and put an arm around the man's back; she clamped one hand over one of his wrists, pressing the edge of the blade into his side with the other. Their bodies and the folds of his loose, grimy jacket hid the weapon from view. She leaned in close so he could hear her.

"Make for the back door as if we do this every day; a conversation will be so much nicer for you than the alternative."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril opted to let Bethany do the talking here. He could intimidate just fine, but she had a way with words that he did not. Instead, he stood alongside the Colonel and their quarry, his lips parted in a pleasant smile. So far as any of the onlookers knew, they were naught but a group of friends out on the town, albeit one looked particularly grimier than the rest.

"So good to see you," Mephirium snickered. He did oh-so-enjoy these quiet little operations. They reminded him of his early days serving as an imperial agent for Darth Vulcanus, before his connection to the force had ever been fostered. Oh, how times had changed. His telekinetic grip on the man lessened to a marginal degree; enough to allow him to move. That was all he would be receiving by way of mercy.

The man nodded enthusiastically at Bethany's suggestion. He might have made the mistake of listening in on the wrong people, but he had the sense to listen, at the very least.

"Good man." Cyril complimented as they made their way outside and toward one of the back alleys. Again, people made their assumptions. Cyril let them.

"Now, my good man, it would be wise to speak to the lady."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

Bethany absently noted that Mephirium was opting to take the role of muscle as she turned their captive so that his back was to the wall. She adjusted the angle of the blade, point pressing into his side.

"This should be an easy conversation. You were staring at us. Why?"

He stared back at her with a shifty gleam in his eye and panted from between dry lips. Mouth breather. Bethany dug the point into his side until he tried to squirm away; she really disliked torture, did not usually implement it herself, but a little fear for his life should return the man's tongue to him. He didn't need to know she had no intention of killing him; he just needed to believe she would.

"I'll repeat myself this once. You were staring at us. Why?"

The man licked his lips with a tongue that did nothing to soothe them and glanced briefly at Mephirium before looking back to Bethany. "You're asking questions." He let out a yelp that trailed into a whisper as Bethany, losing her goodwill, pressed harder. "Inside! I meant you were asking questions inside!"

"We were ordering a drink."

"The bartender doesn't talk with newbies. He talked to you. You needed something."

"And what was that?"

"I don't know!" he insisted, voice sounding oddly shrill. She felt him carefully trying to edge his legs and hips along the wall in preparation for tearing from her grasp and stepped close, momentarily forgetting she wasn't in armor. The weight of her body should be enough even though he was taller than she; her nails dug into his wrist and he winced as they broke flesh.

"I'd like to be friends... what is your name?" She waited. "Come on. I told you I just wanted a conversation; let's keep it that way."

"Sost."

"Sost, thank you." Her hold on his wrist eased, though he was not relinquished. "I do need information. If you can help me, and can accept a gift to keep our conversation just between us friends, I don't see why we can't both go on to enjoy our day. Do you like gifts, Sost?"

She understood why Sost seemed torn. He didn't know if she was offering him a bribe or making reference to the point of her knife. He'd dealt with pleasant customers in the past, clearly. He would be able to help them.

"Have you lived here long?"

"Years."

"You know how the locals operate then?"

"What locals?"

"I have some material to get off my hands. Very... unique merchandise. I need a buyer for it." She stepped back slightly, but kept the weapon where it was. "Do you know locals who buy unique merchandise?"

"It depends on what you're selling."

Annie smiled. "It's all right; I know which man would buy it. I need Ruddie. Where do I find him and how do I contact him?"

The paling of their fearful cohort did not go unnoticed. Ruddie was a mover-- and a shaker-- in local circles then, not just a random buyer. Someone of relative standing among this man and his ilk and one known to kill or maim those who crossed him. It would take more than the threat of death for Sost to cave.

"I--"

"How does fifty credits sound, Sost? No, you know, this information is so useful. One hundred credits as thanks for telling us what we need to know and keeping it to yourself."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Part of Mephirium wished to simply take the man's loyalty. All it would require was a subtle pressure on his windpipe, though such a show would alert the man to the fact that Cyril did indeed hold command over the force. Then they would have to kill him, and while the would-be usurper would feel no qualms over ending such filth, he had no desire to draw attention to himself. That would just cause a mess.

"Ruddie - he, uh, he's got some guy on the other side of the planet. Y'know, the big cities." Sost grimaced as he felt the knife against his side.

"What cities, exactly?"

"He's been spending time in Tiraf for awhile now. Leaves for three days, stays a week here, goes back out."

Mephirium pressed his lips into a thin line. He had no idea where in Corellia's Nine Hells Tiraf was, or more importantly, where they would find Ruddie in the foreign city. "You know where he spends his time there?"

Sost shook his head. "A, uh, no. But, eh, my boss does. Miss Gafen stays in contact. She can help ya out." A tremor had entered his voice now. It seemed Sost had finally come to terms with just how dangerous the two could be. 'I, uh, I can show her to ya."

Cyril paused to consider it. Blue eyes shifted to meet Bethany's, then back to Sost.

"Alright, lead."

Sost was relinquished, and quickly bowed in thanks. He wasted no time in setting off on a brisk pace toward the warehouse district by the ocean docks, waving the two on every few steps to make sure they followed.

Cyril kept his fingers wrapped tight around his sidearm.

The warehouse Sost led them into smelled of sin and depravity. The lights were turned down low and everything was cast in a warm pink glow. Scantily clad men and woman lay on couches on either side of the building. To the far right were rooms, and the soundproofing was not the best. Needless to say, Cyril was beginning to wish he had not listened to Sost.

The grimy man led them to the back of the facility where an aging, albeit still-beautiful Zeltron woman was watching something on a holovision.

"These folks need to talk to ya Miss Gafen." He stood up like a good little servant.

Miss Gafen shifted her gaze between the duo. "The rooms are twenty credits per hours. Just clean up after yourselves."

Snapping her neck wouldn't prove that detrimental to their efforts, would it?

[member="Bethany Haverford"]

 

[Bethany Haverford]

The location Sost took them to was not what Bethany would consider pleasant. The seedy underbelly of Zeltros was apparently going to take up much of their time here. Her excitement over visiting a new city soured somewhat. She should have known better: the tourist traps always had an underlying lair of corruption. Although the muffled sounds lay thick enough in the air that they were practically palpable-- Bethany did not want to consider that the near taste in the air was anything else as her lip was already curling in disgust-- they wouldn't have bothered her at all if not for the man at her side. She glanced at him only once as he walked. He had been a Jedi for many years, a lapse in judgement many would come to question him for once he took the throne. Still, he had been born Sith and had returned to the Sith. Had he... No. What pleasures he took were no more her business than Jocast's or any other Sith Lord. They were allowed their vices, no matter the form they took. She tried to put the consideration from her mind.

Miss Gafen was everything one might expect from the Madame of such an establishment, so at least there Bethany wasn't disappointed.

Her salty comment as they entered caused a smile to start to growing on Bethany's lips. Charming.

"I believe you misunderstand our purpose, Miss Gafen. Our business is not with your fine establishment. We were hoping to garner your assistance with a transaction."

"I conduct hundreds of transactions a day." Despite her dismissive tone, the eyes that fixed on Annie now we're shrewd.

"I don't mean that kind of transaction, Miss Gafen, as I think you have realized. I have an item in need of a buyer. A buyer who has, sadly, absented himself from the city and with whom I'm eager to get in touch. You can assist me with that."

"Girl, unless you're here for what I offer, I have nothing to say to you. I don't care if you want to try one of my employees alone or borrow one to share with your friend, but that is the only business I run here."

Ignoring the suggestion of their preferences and trying not to think about how often the furniture was cleaned, Annie stepped forward and lowered herself into one of the once-plush chairs across from the older woman without ever changing her amiable expression. She disregarded the brief, appraising look the woman cast over her body as she sat and crossed her legs. She would not be staying long enough for her value as a slave or a worker to be relevant. Huh. Maybe she had some mind for the spy business after all.

"Ruddie used to be local. He isn't any longer and I don't have time to wait for him to reappear as he sees fit. I am working under limitations for this sale and do not have the luxury of hunting down another buyer. All I want is for you to put me in touch with him or give me his location. I wouldn't take any more of your valuable time than that." She didn't even glance toward the holovid when she said it. Her relaxation with confronting the woman came as much from the lack of bodyguards in the room and the awareness of Mephirium's presence at her back. She saw Gafen's gaze flick to the Sith and back. He had yet to speak. That was either a sign that he wanted her to handle things, as a test or as a demonstration of his faith in her skills, or, she assumed, that he was debating murder.

"I don't know who you mean." The words lacked conviction. In the corner of her eye, Bethany saw Sost starting to back toward the door.

"Miss Gafen." Bethany folded her hands in her lap. "Cyril would be more than happy to explain the situation through plainer means if such a simple favor is still beyond your ability. Of course, I'm certain your memory will return to you any moment. Women in power so often have a powerful intellect; survival requires it, after all."

Gafen's mouth contorted with irritation and disgust. "'Women like us', you mean?"

I wouldn't presume to place myself in a category with you.

Bethany smiled beneficently.

"Ruddie is in Tiraf, where he usually is. I can give you a comm code that will get you to someone who will get you to him."

"Thank you. A location would be even better."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Bethany could spin a tale if she wanted to. Cyril found himself admiring the way the woman seemed to convince Gafen, one way or another, that they needed to speak with Ruddie. He could have called upon the force to assist their endeavors, but he had already probed the woman's min. It was a steel wall. Whoever she was, she had dealt with force sensitives before, it seemed.

As such, all the negotiating was done on Bethany's power alone. Cyril had underestimated her. Yet, at the same time, he was quite grateful that she had agreed to join him on this outing. He might have had a certain level of charisma, but outright lying had never been his strong suit. Bethany played the part perfectly.

He stood alongside her, arms folded over his chest, content to play the muscle for the moment. Let Gafen think he was nothing more than a brute, or more accurately, Bethany's brute.

"He stays at this place called the Tops. Real fancy though. You'd need connections to get in." Gafen frowned. "And I'm not one of 'em anymore - here." She turned about toward one of her workers, spoke a few hushed words, and the man scurried off. Moments later he returned with a piece of flimsi with a comm code scribbled across it, and held it out toward Bethany.

"Now, are you renting a room?"

Cyril slipped an arm around Bethany's waist. "No, we've got one back at the home, thanks." With a smile that was everything but pleasant, he led Bethany away from the older woman and steered them both toward the door. His voice fell low. "Let's head back to the ship and look this place up."

He paused as they reached the door.

"...Of course, it wouldn't be professional of us if we overlooked the bazaar. I'm sure we can pay it a visit - perhaps find another reliable source."

[member="Bethany Haverford"]