Forgetting

[Watcher Three]

The Devaronian was certainly an interesting character, at least. As he left the bar, Watcher easily tracked him, but then the red-skinned man doubled back to follow the odd Chiss and his companion. With his job not technically done until the man was in his brig, the blue-haired Replica Droid had no choice but to follow him in turn.

When the horned man had nearly reached the spot where Watcher could hear the two others quietly conversing, the sound of a knife flying from its sheathe was audible. The Typhoon Commodore leapt back several paces, drawing his own katana. A humorless laugh escaped him as his blind eyes seemed to look through his opponent.

"I have to admit, 'alive' rewards are sometimes less gratifying, when it comes to your kind of con-artist scum."

[member="Syren"] [member="Evan Kenner"]

 

[Evan Kenner]

Evan glanced around [member="Syren"]'s vessel as she walked him through it. Some might call it a piece of junk, but Evan was sure impressed. He always loved the ships that were like mobile homes. Ones you could turn on autopilot and walk around in. Have a comfortable nap while in hyperspace. Yeah. That would be the life.

Evan helped her look around for a tool, noticing all of the engraved initials on them all. "These belong to someone else?"

 

[Syren]

*Syren managed to fish a wine opener from a drawer.* "Oh! The tools. They belonged to a friend of mine. Maeve passed away some time ago. Whip crack of a mechanic around here." *Syren did not feel comfortable talking about her dead friends, so her voice may have seemed more clipped than was necessary when she addressed [member="Evan Kenner"]. Her slight accent may have masked it though.

She managed to pop the cork out of the bottle with a soft "thop." The removal did not mask the slightest whisper of a sword being unsheathed outside however. Syren's eyes narrowed and she asked Evan,* "Did you hear something?"

[member="Watcher Three"]

 

[Watcher Three]

Watcher danced out of the way of the Devaronian's knife, then heard another blade leave its sheath. A real knife-fighter, then! What fun! The commodore kicked the man in the chest hard enough to wind him, then laughed as he parried his counterattacks. An enraged yell escaped the red-skinned con-artist, and Watcher vaulted over his shoulder as he charged at him, then gasped as he felt the blade of one of the knives impale his forearm. Ouch.

"Well, then... I think I'll call this one an assisted suicide."

[member="Syren"] [member="Evan Kenner"]

 

[Evan Kenner]

Evan started to tinker with the materials at hand on the bench before him, as focused as ever. Because of this, he hardly even noticed she asked him anything. He looked over at her and asked, "Huh? You say somethin'?"

[member="Syren"]