Private I am a Material Girl

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Kinley Pryse, Smuggler, Con Artist, Reluctant Hero. Heavy on the First Two
​

Location: Mid Rim Space, Aboard the Canto's Belle
Tag: Rafe Laroque

The stars didn't blink out here. They just hung, silent, waiting, like the universe itself was holding its breath.

Kinley Pryse sat slouched in the pilot's chair of her weatherworn ZH-40, one boot kicked up on the console, the other tapping a steady rhythm on the floor as her fingers flipped a small cred chip between her knuckles. The lights on the navboard were steady green, engines on standby, cargo locked up tight. All quiet on the Mid Rim front.

Too quiet.

A blinking proximity alert dragged her gaze up to the sensor display, where a single blip was sliding into her airspace, casual, like it owned the stars.

She squinted. "No. No, no, no, no—kriff me sideways."

The transponder ID flickered across the screen: Double Down.

Of course it was.

Rafe Laroque. Smuggler, sabacc cheat, and professional pain in her backside. Pryse had lost more than a few credits to that grinning di'kut at a backwater card table two cycles ago, and he still owed her a new pair of boots after that mess on Ord Vexis. But this wasn't about sabacc or petty grudges.

This was about cargo.

Specifically: Black Sun cargo. Weapons. Exotic tech, maybe a few live specimens. Stuff that would make the New Republic twitch and the Jedi even twitchier. Stuff Rafe Laroque wouldn't touch if you gift-wrapped it with a note that said "free drinks inside."

And now he was flying straight toward her hold like a Nexu sniffing blood.

"Great," Kinley muttered, flicking the chip into a cup with a clink. "Just what I needed. Mister Moral Compass with a hand cannon."

She rose smoothly, pulling her coat off the back of the chair. One hand checked the twin blasters holstered at her sides, the other flipped the comms to passive scan. She didn't hail him. Not yet. Let him sweat a little. See if he was stupid enough to try docking uninvited. Because if Rafe thought this was going to be a friendly reunion, he clearly forgot one very important thing:

Kinley Pryse never forgets a debt. Especially when she's the one holding the guns.​

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Rafe Laroque]

"Oh, Canto Boy, the dice, the dice are calling,
From sabacc halls to alleys by the shore.
The credits fall, the twilight's slowly yawning,
'Tis you, 'tis you must play them evermore."

A good sing was always enjoyable and he did love that song. Plus singing it across the open airwaves, to the only other ship nearby which he was keenly aware belonged to Kinley Pryse, was sure to annoy the sithspit out of her. The Double Down was broadcasting its actual transponder as he flew in towards her. No need to hide who he was here. Wasn't like there were law enforcement in the vicinity. She’d be running like a Hutt to a buffet if there were.

“But come ye back when tables all are ringing,
Or when the suns lie glowing in the sky.
’Tis I’ll be there with cards and charm a-swinging,
Oh Canto Boy, oh Canto Boy, I cannot lie.”

Ok, maybe two verses was enough. He didn’t want to piss her off, after all. Bad enough he was showing up without telling her he was coming, but then, he always did that. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time where he’d told her he was planning to pay a visit. Maybe that time on Nal Hutta? Hmm. No, he couldn’t remember. Though he did know he still owed her a pair of boots. He just… couldn’t find a pair good enough for her. Something that really set themselves apart, that really spoke of who she was. And she was a saucy minx, that one. Oh man did he enjoy having fun with her! At least, when she wasn’t being naughty.

He had a feeling she was being naughty today. Call it a hunch.

“Oh Starling,” he called across to the ship. “Permission to come aboard? Cuz you know I’m gonna even if you say no.”

His ship sidled up near to hers, just a couple of smuggler vessels hanging out in deep space. Nothing to see here. These aren’t the smugglers you’re looking for. Move along. His was a bit more stand out ish than hers was, but that was a personality thing. He was flamboyant and she was just, sharp. In more ways than one. He idly rubbed his side where she’d stabbed him once before. Intentionally.

ATTIRE: Brown Pants and Duster w/ a Purple Shirt | WEAPONS: Purple Lightsaber, Metal Playing Cards

TAGS: Kinley Pryse​

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Kinley once faked a bounty on herself just to collect the reward​

Location: Mid Rim Space, Aboard the Canto's Belle
Tag: Rafe Laroque


His voice crackled through the open comm unit, all bravado and smug charm.

"Starling! Permission to come aboard? You know I'm gonna, even if you say no."

Kinley Pryse rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw hyperspace. Rafe Laroque was like licorice-flavored whiskey, tolerable in small doses, maybe even enjoyable on the right kind of reckless night. But most days? He was just a bitter burn on the tongue.

And today? She wasn't in the mood.

Flicking a few switches on the terminal, she locked down the hidden cargo compartments and pinged her droid a quick, coded alert: unwelcome company inbound.

She leaned toward the comm, her smirk audible in her voice. "It's your funeral Laroque."

After the transmission cut, she ran through the last of the boarding protocols, then adjusted the angle of her hat with deliberate flair. If Rafe was poking around where he didn't belong, she figured they'd need more than patience. They'd need drinks.

She turned on her heel to gather supplies. Whatever this was about, it was going to be messy, and Kinley Pryse never hosted a mess without a bottle close at hand.

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Rafe Laroque]

“Such hostility! What did I ever do to deserve it?”

He smirked as he said it, the Double Down pulling up alongside her vessel. Oh, he knew the ins and outs of the Canto’s Belle, whether she wanted him to or not. Of course, he didn’t let her know that he knew them. Benefits of his ability to read people. She could lock everything up, even get her little droid to put him on blast, but he’d always have a way to get what he wanted from her. Which was probably why he deserved the hostility, come to think of it. Her smuggling was less than lucrative when he was around.

Twisting the ship just right, he lined up the external docks and let the automatic work happen. Shortly, the two ships were locked together, which meant he could do his thing, and she could fund the Hidden Path unknowingly. Well, eventually. First, fun, then play, then work. Fun. Play. Work. He should coin a phrase about that or something.

Making his way back to the docking hatch, he made sure his card bandoleer was in place on his wrist, and his saber was tucked away for safety. He didn’t carry a blaster. Never had. Kinley was always one up on him in that department. Didn’t usually need it, though. She hadn’t shot him yet, sticking with a more intimate approach to wounding him. Getting stabbed wasn’t much fun, though. For some reason it hurt more than getting shot with a blaster. Probably the internal damage.

The hatch opened and he dropped down into her ship.

“Where ya at, Starling?” he called through the halls. “What kind of booze do you have available on this rust heap?”

Gotta wet the whistle.

ATTIRE: Brown Pants and Duster w/ a Purple Shirt | WEAPONS: Purple Lightsaber, Metal Playing Cards

TAGS: Kinley Pryse​

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Kinley Pryse never met a vault she couldn't open, or a rule she couldn't break
​

Location: Mid Rim Space, Aboard the Canto's Belle
Tag: Rafe Laroque


Kinley didn't bother calling out. She let the silence stretch, listening to the steady rhythm of his boots echo through the corridor until he finally appeared in the lounge. She was already waiting at a table, boots propped up, hat tilted at a calculated angle. Her blasters rode openly at her hips, a silent warning, though her hands rested casually on a bottle of Corellian rum.

She poured a glass without asking and slid it across the table toward him.

"Well, well, well… to what do I owe this painfully annoying surprise? Miss me? Or are you just addicted to the punishment at this point?"

Her smirk carried heat, though the flare of her nostrils betrayed her irritation. She nodded her head towards the seat, indicating he should sit. Her face was cool, calm and collected. Kinley had one hell of a game face, but inward her annoyance was starting to mix with anxiety. Losing this cargo would mean pissing Flint off, and ultimately more suffering for her father. Rafe was messing with family and that was one place you didn't go poking your nose in. At least not in Kinley's world.

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Rafe Laroque]

He wandered into the lounge, and found her boots up already. Man, he didn’t even have to get her to bed for that. Smirking, he walked over and took a seat, spreading his arms out on the back of the booth as he watched her.

“Rum, huh? Things are that bad?”

The glass slid across the table and his hand caught it with ease. He swirled the contents and lifted it to savor the aroma before downing the shot in one go. Used to be that would do something to him, back in the day. Even back when the two of them met in Canto Bight it would have done more than it did now. Now it was like drinking water. He needed a lot more for it to have an effect on him, though he did enjoy the burn as it ran down his throat. Good stuff always had that nice burn.

He grinned when she asked if he missed her.

“Always miss you,” he said. “I mean, we both grew up in Canto Bight, we’re both smugglers, and we’ve seen each other naked. What’s not to miss?”

A wink.

“But no, I happened to be in the area, and you know when I see you around I have to check in on ya. How’s business? I’m sure it’s booming with the Black Sun, no?”

ATTIRE: Brown Pants and Duster w/ a Purple Shirt | WEAPONS: Purple Lightsaber, Metal Playing Cards

TAGS: Kinley Pryse​