Private I'm a match, she's keroene

[Peyton Steele]

Peyton was the type who always seemed to just be in the right place at the right time, or she just listened better than the rest of the world around her. She was working for the OPA, the Sullustan Home Guard, on the official record, working with Cuan Kunn as her official military contact, as an information broker. She and Cuan were long time agents who worked with the Underground, the Galactic Alliance – the original class, and the OPA. Now they were working for the Underground unofficially, though in the Home Guard, formed on the bones of the Alliance in Exile, everyone knew the pair were good people, and could bring information and material to the right people.

The past few days she’d been on this ordinance moon, asking questions, about everything and everyone, but focused on listening for any Imperial storehouses. Anything that could hold something the Underground could benefit from. She and Cuan had been on the world, the latter acting as the pilot and mechanic but being the bodyguard for the more lithe blonde. She was doing her best to blend in, gone were her more statement clothes, and she wore the guise of a spacer, complete with grease stains to cover the splotches of scales that were a result of her mixed heritage.

A few days ago, she had contacted the Underground looking for another set of hands on this job, and she was waiting to meet them. She told her contact she’d be around this bar, Imperial-styled, finding more information out but it wouldn’t be a far step to where they needed to go, and she was currently chatting up an officer, waiting for the prime opportunity to lift his rank cylinder. She knew what her skills were good for, but she also knew what her looks could get her with little effort.

Come o… stop focusing so hard, Imp.

Morgan Gracehold

 

[Morgan Gracehold]

Vinegar and Honey.​

\\. Lucielle Marsh
\\. Junior Lieutenant, II.312 Supply Company
\\. Liar



The door to the bar slips open, the commotion from the thoroughfare outside briefly calling that to attention as a neatly dressed Imperial slithers inside. Her steps ring with the signature click-click-click of Imperial Jackboots, accented only slightly by the rattle of an officer's disk and the holstered RK-3 tapping against it. From head to toe she effects the presence of a somewhat pleasant stick in the mud, the signature double-breasted tunic of the Imperial Army seeming to fit her well enough, thought she certainly did an admirable job filling it out.

With a practiced, exasperated huff the Lieutenant surveys the bar. The practiced and attentive would be aware that she is looking for ~something~ but seems to pass right over Peyton with a derisive sneer. After another moment of searching she spots the Officer being so boldly accosted by a local indigent and maneuvers to assist, gloved hands coming up briefly to undo the collar of her tunic and tug out the neckline of the button down shirt beneath.

"Careful Captain, locals here can get a bit too handsy from time to time. More trouble than they are worth."​

She calls to him, taking up a position on the his side opposite Peyton and placing a hand delicately on his shoulder to call his attention. He was a Naval Officer, and while she did not directly report to him, rank was still a factor despite the difference in branch.

"Best we stick to our own, sir. Let me get you a drink, might as well get to know each other if i'm going to be stationed here for as long as they say."​

The man's attention is called, and as Lucielle's left hand slides around the back of his chair a gloved finger lofts and briefly indicates his rank cylinder, an invitation, or so it seemed.


Peyton Steele

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[Peyton Steele]

Peyton’s job certainly wasn’t always glamorous. She had a good had on her shoulders, and that made her invaluable to the right people. Those being the ones inside ORION, or the AiE, or the Underground who could use her as a handler more than an agent. Nowadays, though, with the galaxy on this side coming to a sort of peace, and the Underground ramping up, she was needed in the field. Hence why she was trying to sucker this officer out of his rank cylinder. She wasn’t going to steal it for long, Cuan was outside with the speeder, waiting with her equipment, she’d get out, scan it down and bring it back in. But apparently someone had a different set of plans.

Her eyes went to the other blonde who entered the situation, an Army officer by the look of her, but when she stepped to the other side and didn’t shove Peyton away, even if she verbally accosted her, the Brubreen hybrid could take that as the best opening. Watching the officer listen to the newcomer, and paying attention to them, but Peyton had to play it up.

A sound of indignation, the blonde shook her head. “The public has just as much a right in here as the officers. And of course, I’d get handsy, look at him.” She shook her head as she pushed away from the bar slightly, getting up as her hand expertly grabbed the rank cylinder and offered a wink to the army officer as she all but stormed off. She wasn’t sure if it would be smarter to get the copy made, or steal the original, but for a second… it didn’t matter. Slowly backing out of the establishment, she had the army officer figured as a friend.

Maybe the one she called for. As she stepped outside, Peyton spoke, her commlink catching her voice. “Got it, Cuan. I think our teammate is inside though, may give us some time to copy it. Pull the speeder around.”

Morgan Gracehold

 

[Morgan Gracehold]

\\. Lucielle Marsh
\\. Junior Lieutenant, II.312 Supply Company
\\. Liar


She was quick on the uptake, that was good. Far too many of these so-called professionals didn't adapt to a change of plans, or to a new opportunity. Thankfully it seemed Morgan's new accomplice had a modicum of skill in the occult art of Galactic Scumbaggery, and the requisite balls to apply it.

Maybe this wasn't going to be so hard after all.

"Local's got a point, sir. You were a catch for the Navy, I know if I was an Army Recruiter I would have grabbed you up as soon as I laid eyes on you."​

The flattery came on thick, her voice a low, husky sort of drawl that dripped like honey from the comb as she leaned over the bar and rapped two gloved knuckles against the hardwood. A pair of glasses were set out after a clipped order to the serving droid, a measure of clear liquor poured over crushed ice and slid toward the chatting Imperials.

"...What's that, you flew in on the Corax? Not familiar with the name but let's not stop that from drinking to it."​

Glasses raise and click together, her dark brown eyes drifting to the OPA agent across from her as she departs and returning the wink subtly, the expression mostly hidden by the tumbler raised to her lips and by the time her glass lowers she's all business again, chatting up the Officer and all but discarding Peyton as she keeps him occupied.



Peyton Steele

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[Peyton Steele]

She was still keeping an eye out over her shoulder. What she was hoping for was that her intuition wasn’t wrong, and that the woman who came out and all but handed her the cylinder was the one she was working with. Stepping down the alley, Cuan was waiting for her with the landspeeder. Stepping in, she shut the door and opened the dash box, inside was a set of equipment that she was very familiar with – electronic key forging equipment. She plugged the cylinder into the slot and twisted it in, locking it down so the equipment can run its mimic. Reaching into the compartemtn, she pulled a blank one out and plugged it in as well.

The screen was reading a percentage meter as Cuan stepped out of the speeder to keep watch. Taking a moment, she was typing a few commands and the little machine would whir.. As it reached 100% she nodded to herself and unplugged the real cylinder and pocketing it. She placed the forged cylinder in her bag as she put the equipment away. She was hoping that this would at least get her and her partner into a place to find some manifest. It would definitely go a long way to help the Underground. Stepping from the speeder, she gave a nod to Cuan as she walked back to the main street. Her speederbike was there, but she still had to get this cylinder back.

Stepping through the door again, she came up to the bar, looking at the barkeep. “I think I left my bag here.” She said as she looked around by her chair, stepping around the Naval officer, she tapped her pocket for Morgan Gracehold . The real cylinder was there and as Peyton moved between the two officers, she took a second.

“Excuse me… hmm itsnot here…” She shook her head. Tossing a look between them. “Also, about before… No hard feelings, yeah?” She said to the Naval officer. “I just get very … interested in things.”

 

[Morgan Gracehold]

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\\. Lucielle Marsh
\\. Junior Lieutenant, II.312 Supply Company
\\. Liar

Lucielle knew this game, to be sure. The conversation with the Captain was kept light, talking about this and that. Deployments, Supply problems, new orders and the like. They seemed to be getting on well enough by the time Peyton returns and rudely maneuvers herself between the two.

"More routine, more checks. You know the life better than I do sir a...Oh, yes sir. Certainly it's important but I think we both hope for something more exciting from time to time A..."​

As soon as Peyton hands off the cylinder to Morgan the charlatan stands, eyes narrowed as she trails off and pushes forward to block Peyton's movements between the two. One hand lofts, pushing against the other woman's side and moving to push her away as she slides the small silver tube back into the Captain's pocket, using the fabricated commotion to disguise the slight tug at his side!

"Be interested in something else, Citizen. Move along."​

A slight push against Peyton serves to move her away from the chatting pair, Lucielle's attention returning to the Captain with an apologetic smile, her boot coming up to push the stool she had been seated on in.

"All the time I have for now Sir, but I will be sure to find you on the Corax when I can. We will continue this conversation without the locals interfering."​

With a final polite nod to the Officer and a sideways glance to Peyton she makes for the door, gloved hands checking the blaster at her hip as she pushes through the threshold of the establishment and out to the street, muttering to Peyton once she is out of earshot of the Captain.

"Walk and talk."​

Peyton Steele

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[Peyton Steele]

This was when the job was going to get a bit interesting, she figured. The blonde was shopping that the woman would take the cylinder back, and then be smart enough to meet her out back. Cuan was always ready. The Sullustan Pilot was doing his best to adjust to the life of ‘needs of the Underground,’ he’d been there before but working as they were, they had even less help than previously. But they had a few weapons, he did have his X-Wing, and he was, like her, part of Osprey Cell, had their own operations to work on. For them? Recon.

And supply management, it seemed. As she got the cylinder handed off to the naval officer, there was a minor change in her stature, one of relaxation. One job done, another two… ish to go. As she was pushed and told to mind her business, Peyton moved as if she was going to speak back but then, at the last second, appeared to think better of it, making a move for the door. As she stepped on the street, Cuan pulled the speeder down the street, he’d slow down around the corner. Giving the operative a nod in that direction, Peyton turned ahead of her as they got lost in the crowd.

“Got the cylinder copied, We have a location to hit. Uniform may come in handy.” She turned the corner. “Speeder has clearance.” And she herself was going to need to change. Stepping up to the speeder, the door opened.

“Don’t mind stealing from the Imperials, yeah?” As she slipped into the speeder, she grabbed the duffel and began to change, not having any real shame.

Morgan Gracehold