Lacuna

[Ayessa Kroan]

lacuna, noun; a blank space, a missing part.​

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:30 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ Talk Too Much
——————————————————————

Even never having been to Nar Shaddaa, Ayessa felt as though she'd seen it all.

The sights, the smells-- By the clans, the smells --and the general atmosphere reminded her of 1313. Or, at least, the scummier parts of Zeltron that she had the unfortunate pleasure of visiting relatively recently. Putting that place out of sight and out of mind was a relief, but this place?

Oh, this felt so, so much worse. Greasy. She would need to borrow Rook's shower once they were done here.

Getting off the ship and exploring, at the time, felt like the right thing to do. The moment their ship had made port something had felt off, spiritually, a quiet lull in the Force that was going to pull her apart if she didn't humour it. And she couldn't exactly say 'Just gonna go follow my instincts for a few hours, toodles!' otherwise she'd raise suspicion. So, awkwardly managing that she needed some air (Who, in the galaxy, would want fresh air from here?) Ayessa let her however-misguided senses drag her from district to district until she wound up in this one. Corellian. There was some irony there.

Since the meeting spot with Rook's employer, a man that said Rook had notably decided to tell her little of, had been changed, she knew her co-worker would probably be eager to bolt. He might leave her here. A fate worse than death, truly. Hands in her pockets the plainclothes Jedi wandered down a back street on the outskirts of the district proper, not quite confident to go right in. Perhaps that was part of this strange, strange exercise, because she was soon enough overhearing conversation, speak that caught her ear and made her pause in her steps.

"You blasted hunk of scrap, shock me one more time and I'll be sure to turn you into my new recycler after I'm finished with you." What followed that was a set of angry whistles and chirps, sounds that drew Ayessa all too eagerly in. She knew those noises. It was an astromech unit, and boy, did someone kark it off, [Oh yeah? Try me, blue-brains.] Unable to stifle a low and sharp exhale at the snappy response on the part of the droid, the Kiffar stuck her head into the small backalley store from where the commotion was coming from. A Pantoran male was sputtering at a small, squat, black-and-orange R2 unit with dangerously familiar design. The Jedi's heart panged just a little -- Her own from wars past was lost to time, surely, but this one was sure reminiscent, right down to the bad attitude. The Pantoran kept up the enraged glare before looking up at the would-be customer, mouth twisted up into a grimace, "We're closed, girlie. About to load up the scrapper and finally toss this one out to the pile." Shoving the unit with the tip of his boot it rattled and let out a warbling screech, which, if Ayessa had heard correctly, amounted to dialogue that would need her to rinse her ears out.

Still, she could hardly believe what she was hearing on the part of the seller, the poor thing was going to the junkyard? You're not supposed to be the hero anymore.

...Rook won't mind.

"If you'd rather make some credits..."

 

[Rook Lokar]

Putrid.

Nar Shaddaa was easily described as that, nothing else was really required. Every facet of the planet, from it's citizens, lifestyle, environment, and infrastructure. The only people that thrived in a place such as this were the criminals, and so, it was fair to assume that everyone you crossed had a rap-sheet of sorts. You could only pray that everyone's was shorter than your own, if not? You ran the risk of a knife in your abdomen, a searing hole in your chest, or a poison coursing through you. There weren't many on Nar Shaddaa that weren't killers. It seemed that the only way to find yourself safe was to wind up within the employ of the Bareesh Kajidic, the Exchange, the Red Ravens, the Helix Syndicate, or the Coratanni Cartel; organised crime, whilst had it's dangers, was almost a free pass to do whatever it is that you want as long as you remain within your territory.

The Smuggler, fortunately, was under the employ of the Exchange. Rook hadn't quite met the Prince, the man in charge of the operation- there were only stories, and they went along the lines of any and all Crime Lord tales. They all had the same 'dead' look within their eyes, a prolonged glare that sent shiver up one's spine, and intimidated you with their influence, not their person. However, a Smuggler didn't hold that sort of pass to keep them safe. They were to land on their feet, or have their blood flow down the drain. Rook was certainly willing to land on his feet, especially whilst wandering alone.

A confident appearance was stretched all over his form. A certain swagger in his step, determination in his eye, any seasoned individual knew it well enough. It was primarily a feigned looked, though. For it never attracted attention, but it prevented any common criminal from attempting to mug a man such as that. Especially with an A13 resting within the holster on his hip. A Blaster like that was bound to blast a sizeable hole in anybody's skull, no matter who they are.

​Rook's booted footsteps were drowned out by the ambience of the Smuggler's Moon. From merchants, passerbyers, the hum of speeders, or thud of flesh against flesh. Although, most enacted their ability to ignore the final of the typical sounds that blessed Nar Shaddaa. He continued to move throughout the streets, in search of something in particular, although whatever it was was stopped short, or at the very least delayed. Rook thrust himself into an alley, his back pressed against a wall whilst three armed figures patrolled the street ahead of him. They moved down with a meticulous nature, observing and scanning. They too searched for something, but that 'something' was Rook.

His eyes darted left, and then they darted right. Several Astromechs seemed to be sitting there, powered down, wasting away. Next to them was a metallic trash can, empty and facing upwards. Rook was one for bold plans, and bolder actions even if he believed himself the 'thinker' not the 'doer'. With a few steps taken to his right, further into the alley, he had grasped at the bin and raised it above his head, only to lower it over himself and squat beside them. Maybe in the darkness he could go unnoticed.

"Oh man."

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]

 

[Ayessa Kroan]

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:37 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ Talk Too Much
——————————————————————

A few moments of tense negotiation, minor mind influence and a few chits later, and the little guy was hers.

He warbled indignantly -- [I don't need a hero, I had that totally under control.] -- But nonetheless the astromech droid followed her out of the out-of-the-ways shop rather dutifully. Turning back slightly to watch the astromech roll on out into the Nar Shaddaa light, she raised an tentative eyebrow, "What are your digits?"

[R2-C4, your majesty.] A squawk backed that up, and the unit rattled from side to side briefly as it followed her down the rough street.

"Hey, it was a simple question, I'd rather not call you 'droid' all the time. How does Cee-Four sound?"

[Terrible nickname. Are you alone here?]

"Psh. Nooo. Well, I was just then," If there was one thing she had forgotten, it was how nice talking to a droid could be, "But I've got another crewmember." Crewmember, sure. Not quite 'partner' yet. Wait, yet? An elated, relaxed grin crossed her face nonetheless as she looked over her shoulder at Cee-Four; astromechs were always fidgety, unique little pieces of technology and one of the few things she could say with confidence she could understand.

No, they were nothing like Rook, who--

She stopped in her tracks, then, gaze slightly upward. Rook. The R2 unit bumped into her leg slightly and it made a low whistling noise of annoyance, [Hey, what was that for?] For the moment she ignored his droidspeak. What the feth was happening with Rook? To say they had a connection was laughable, but she'd come to understand his presence in the Force due to their proximity for a long period of time. Flickering like candlelight, something grey and murky, unique nonetheless. And right now it seemed to be in a spot of trouble.

No more hero work. He's an adult. He can take care of it.

"It's, um, nothing I think, Cee-Four."

[Stop trying to make that happen.]

 

[Rook Lokar]

His breathing had become heavier, and with each passing moment they had come quicker. Frantic? Maybe, but Rook was surely never going to admit that. Even if the droplet of sweat that struggled to slide down his forehead claimed otherwise. His legs weren't very fond of his crouched stance, and neither was his nose- currently pressed against the metallic interior, that was bound to have enough bacteria to warrant a decontamination, whilst his eyes gazed with a sense of concern through the slit. There was 'bad', but then there was 'crouched within an old trash-can pretending to be an astromech to avoid being plugged full of searing holes bad'. This was the latter, unfortunately.

Anybody, and everybody, was sure to find a trio of Ardennian's armed to the teeth a strange thing to spot. They were, not-so-surpisingly, ignored for the most part. At least until they directly interacted with someone or something. Truth be told, they weren't very threatening at first glance. Yet, Rook knew damn well who they were and who they worked for. This wasn't a pleasure call, or realistically, a warning. The kind of 'meeting' that left the Smuggler dead in a ditch. Couldn't have that now.

​Rook found himself holding his breath once they passed the alleyway, even daring to step inside of it. They, once again, looked left and looked right. They saw nothing out of the ordinary, and that disguise had worked. Could thank the darkness this time around, now. Yet, Rook was prone to getting ahead of himself, and so the click of his holster coming-undone forced on of their heads to snap in his direction. He squinted in self-loathing for a moment, but began to sluggishly raise the Blaster as the only sound that came was that of grinding clothing material. However, that Ardennian drew near, too close, it squinted at the trash can, it even looked to raise a weapon, but it was then a shot rang out. A searing hole formed through the 'astromech', and the Ardennian dropped to the ground with a thud.

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]

 

[Ayessa Kroan]

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:39 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ Talk Too Much
——————————————————————

[Your kind's all the same. Overreacting to nothing. Think I could get an oil bath?]

"I already spe--" Ayessa's voice hitched and her body froze like a Hound in speederlights all over again, ready to run like the devil. The R2 made a noise and rotated it's dome a little, [Third time you've done that, does someone need to recalibrate your sensor?]

Violence bloomed like an ugly thorned flower in her sixth sense. It was a paralyzing feeling, one that sent tremors through her before the feelings were filtered through and calmly filed away. Something was going wrong, and fast, [...Don't tell me I need to reboot you.] A chirp that almost sounded worried left the droid as it's receptacle watched her with guardedness.

But Ayessa was already off, senselessly as usual. With another few chirps of disgruntlement and surprise the mech moved to follow, motors whirring and treads skirting. She'd been content to let him handle whatever horror show he had fallen into but now risk ran in her mind at a full sprint and she was almost certain something terrible was going to happen. To Rook or someone else, she couldn't tell. Her senses still couldn't effectively detangle him.

The only issue was location. Was he at the ship? No, that wasn't it... How was she going to explain this 'stroke of fortune'? Could she fight effectively without her lightsaber? Damn it all.

Exiting her own back alley into a bustling intersection of pedestrians-- Msak Hounds in Nerf hide, all of them were criminals no doubt --the Jedi took a moment to collect herself, looking to the R2 unit at her side who just seemed lost even now.

"I think someone needs our help."

[If you're here at all you need help one way or another.]

 

[Rook Lokar]

Rook, with a sense of urgency, awkwardly shifted his legs beneath the trash can. He didn't exactly care for the sounds it was to make, especially after the blaster bolts ringing true. Ensnaring the attention of the victims compatriots. The two had rushed in the direction of the alley, their blasters raised and ready to fire at a moment's notice, just turning back in time to watch their 'friend' die in a Nar Shaddaa alleyway. Who could tell how many had died in such a forsaken place. Too many, that was the answer.

The first one had rushed around the corner, taking a glance to it's immediate left. It saw Rook, and it saw the trashcan he held above his head come crashing down. It wasn't slammed but thrown, bouncing off of the smaller creatures form and into the street that appeared to be relatively cleared in the moment. And in the proximity the second Ardennian seemed to forget his blasters, lunging at Rook with it's arms raised and throwing a series of punches in the direction of the Smuggler. They weren't exactly brawny things, but they were bound to hurt after a while. The first one, too, joined the fray.

This wasn't ideal. Rook appeared to be battling against two Ardennian's in the street. Frantically moved out of the alleyway in a fit of movement, grasping at the aliens, punching and kicking. "Get off." He exclaimed through gritted teeth. Yet, it did nothing, as he continued to flail around, and around, and around as they stuck to him like glue.

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]

 

[Ayessa Kroan]

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:42 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ Talk Too Much
——————————————————————

This planet was too damn big.

Finally quieted down into complacency Cee-Four trundled on by her side, having promised to scan for her described man, but commented that it turned out tall irritating Corellians were commonplace here, too commonplace for his sensors to lock onto one signature. Just her luck.

"I hope you've got more uses than that."

[Best slicer in the system.]

Now that made her laugh but it was a snicker marred with slowly mounting anxiety, this place really was too large and she needed some sort of break if she was going to find him before something really bad happened, like, say, murder or maiming, "Seriously?"

[Seriously.] A smug low whistle. Oh, they'd all get along swimmingly if they were alive and whole by the end of tonight. Threading through the crowds of people they began to thin out, her senses still grasping for a sense, any sense. Grim feelings swelled around, harkening to the suppression she'd felt so long before; there were very few good people here and it clouded her vision. Clarity compacting under the weight of darkness. Maybe now that it was passing, she could see.

And see she did, "I think he's up ahead, come on Cee-Four, what have you got for weapons?"

[Lady, I don't have an ion cannon or a vibroblade, I don't fight.]

Just. Her. Luck.

 

[Rook Lokar]

In an attempt to gain his freedom from these... things, he had bowed his form whilst reaching overhead. This, of course, forced the Ardennian to slide further up his body, and within grasped distance. It's spherical head was grabbed, thrust forwards and off of his body. In the moments it had taken to recover, Rook grasped at a metallic stick-like-object to beat in the head off of the other beastly-alien. It's grip was relinquished, and with his Blaster resting in his grip, Rook took off down the street. Not too far behind him were the two Ardennians. They were out for blood after all, and they didn't appear to be very happy, especially with a friend of theirs dead in the street.

Rook didn't quite know where to go, really. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to find the most optimal location to run to in the frantic moment. Yet, all that came to mind was further down this street. In the end, he hooked a right, doors opening to reveal Ayessa and an Astromech. He wasn't going to ask questions, especially with the blaster fire bearing down upon in from behind.

He slinked through the doorway, "Close it, close it!" He'd mentioned, grinding to a halt and swinging behind the doorway itself in a bid to find cover. Their fire continued to fall upon him, and even Ayessa and the Astromech were going to catch some heat now.

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]

 

[Ayessa Kroan]

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:43 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ Talk Too Much
——————————————————————

She had to move, but not too fast, lest she get clocked for supernatural response time. Was it an overcomplication of the situation, probably, but the Kiffar ducked out of the way just fast enough to avoid getting hit, her jacket shoulderpad getting singed for her purposeful lag. Jedi reflexes could have let her miss shots three times as fast, but we were simplifying things today to keep it looking relatively natural. Normal people fethed up and got shot. Wincing from the heat she too pressed up against the opposite side of the doorway, a couple colourful curses leaving her. Worth it, maybe.

R2-C4, however, bless his robotic heart, let out a trademark Astromech screech as a blaster bolt connected with the droid's lower section, [I TOLD YOU I'M NOT A COMBAT DROID!] Burning rubber, it sped off at once behind Ayessa like a particularly scared trash can, and at once the slightly-smouldering woman slammed the panel of the door, the durasteel groaning as it slid shut to cut them off from their sudden attackers. And she spared no time in shooting Rook a look of confusion and admitted, mild anger, "Can't play nice with the locals for even a few hours?" She demanded hotly, Cee-Four warbling in wordless agreement behind her.

"Okay, forget that, weren't you staying at the ship? Who's watching the ship?"

 

[Rook Lokar]

So, Ayessa makes a friend and Rook makes 'friends'. It was hardly his doing, really. The Smuggler tangled with the less than desirable here and there, and sometimes cargo couldn't be taken to their required destination. These ones? They worked for that Rodian slime-ball who had Rook run the Geonosis job. Y'know, the one that resulted in him being incarcerated on a Geonosian Prison train? Yeah, that one. It wasn't all bad, though. Suppose he did meet Vin through the people that happened to be heisting in the middle of his breakout. It seemed that it was catching up to him now, eh.

A sigh of relief escaped the scoundrel once the doors saved them for the time-being. Yet, he knew there'd be more, and when there was they couldn't afford to hunker down in a position such as this. "Uh." He stumbled on his words, lost between thinking about where to go, where his ship was, and what this droid was doing. "It's fine. THey've got some semblance of sanity at the spaceport." That much was true. Almost like they respected the ships of the unlawful, but nothing else. He couldn't afford to lose that ship anyways, it belonged to the Exchange, and maybe that was going to save it for the time-being.

His feet began to shuffle across the pavement, cautious in his demeanour with his Blaster Pistol raised up alongside his head. Waving for Ayessa to follow him along, approaching the lip of a wall, and turning his head back to speak in a hushed tone, "We've got to get back to the ship."

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]

 

[Ayessa Kroan]

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:44 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ Talk Too Much
——————————————————————

Some tension worked it's way out of her system once she was assured their escape from this hellhole was safe. Only some tension though, getting shot at after a while of not getting shot at tends to crank the mind and body's alertness to levels that are uncomfortable. Ayessa's scowl slipped to a light grimace instead, nodding to him with a hint of reluctance but, well, she trusted him. About as far as she could throw him, so, which was-- Which was pretty far, actually. Wrinkling her nose once his back was turned she looked down at the astromech and it warbled a [Come-on-come-on-go-the-monkey-people-are-coming!]

"Really, I thought we could stay here a while and get to know each other again," Perhaps it wasn't appropriate to snark him but it did make her shoulder feel ever-so-slightly better, so that's what she settled on doing, "Any ideas on how to do that? I left my weapons in my other slum." Not necessarily true. Her lightsaber felt ten times heavier in her pocket now all of a sudden, but that was an impossibility. Maybe if he was out of sight, sure, but that wasn't likely to happen now so she pushed that offensive tactic from her mind. The sight and sound of a lightsaber would attract more like flies to a corpse as well, especially here. Whether she liked it or not, Rook was the shot she was going to have to rely on. Please, at least shoot straight.

Creeping behind him, the astromech followed Ayessa and whistled tentatively, [I think you should have left me in the scrap pile.]

"It'll be fine, Cee-Four, stop worrying."

 

[Rook Lokar]

There always was a different side to every man, no matter who they were. It was an indisputable truth, no doubt. Rook was hardly a man by all accounts, living within his youth that had a personality to match. Untested by the Galaxy with such limited experience on the harshness of it all. He truly paled in comparison to most. Cocky and confident, brazen and brash, sly and secretive. Words were his ally, as was the grin he was able to flex in the most troublesome of times, but every once in a while it was that blaster of his that go put to work. The smile faded then, and in it's place came a look of concentration, certain kind of twinkle in his eye that moved beyond the boy with a mouth that ran faster than his brain.

Ayessa's snark flew in one ear and out the other. The only real thing he seemed to acknowledge was the incessant beeping of that Astromech, and a lapse in concentration took hold. Rook's head snapped over his shoulder, but it didn't stare into the eyes of Ayessa but the singular lense of the Astromech. His mouth ajar whilst his eyes stared with an sense of confusion, the rest of his face following in tandem. "Why?" He questioned effortlessly upon redirecting his gaze upon the totally-not-Jedi. "How?" He furthered in rhetoric.

A sigh escaped his lips, and his head turned away. The left hand, the one without the blaster in it, ran to his face and rubbed it. He could hardly lame her. Rook did mention Droids, but perhaps he was a bit sour that he didn't get the chance to pick them himself. Maybe some kind of IG Droid, a defunct combat model. Eh, it hardly mattered now. Astromechs did have their uses, however. With any luck, it was to come of use today.

Despite the wee hours of the night, the streets continued to be rather active. Especially the one that rest in their view, being their only way out of the area in which they resided. The two, or three, had to move or be caught in an ambush.

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]

 

[Ayessa Kroan]

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:45 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ I'm a Wanted Man
——————————————————————

She craved that sort of intense focus she caught in his gaze briefly, in the same way a drowning creature begged for air. Stumbling through a new life was hard enough without the necessary mindset yet he seemed plenty capable. Though something inside couldn't help but wryly laugh at his confusion surrounding the droid.

"I-- Um, I got a good deal on Cee-Four, don't worry. And he's a slicer," Following her moment of sarcastic eloquency came word-ghetti, awkardly stumbling through that sentence as the full-force of Rook's attention bore down on her in reaction to her impulse acquisition of Cee-Four, "I'm sure we can put him to work later. Now, can we go before your 'friends' come back and shoot us again?" In a move that surprised her more than it might surprise him, Ayessa set a gloved hand-- Thank the stars for that, otherwise she'd be getting a full lecture of Rook's memories associated with this set of clothes and Ayessa somehow knew that was the last thing she wanted to see, ew --just behind his right shoulderblade, surprisingly warm even with the layers of leather and cloth between skin. It probably would have been a little, just a little intimate if the Ardennians weren't a few feet away. So she was quick with it, putting some force on him, nudging him onwards physically, "Go for the street, could lose them there."

It would have been easier to shake this armed tail on her own but he did have the gun. And it wasn't exactly a Knight's way to just exit, and that would burn un-necessary bridges.

[Is this going to happen a lot?] Cee-Four almost grumbled, going on with the duo slowly to avoid the noise from his motors giving them away. The Jedi didn't immediately answer; she wanted to ask as well.

 

[Rook Lokar]

If only that tentative touch had come to fruition under a separate set of circumstances, may it be truly acknowledged for it's truthful intent. Yet, in the moment, Rook had passed it off as nothing more than a hand on the back, on the shoulder, a slight nudge, a reinforcing shove. As his eyes turned to the street they rolled within their sockets, knowing full well that it was there he had to go. Truly a waste of oxygen, if nothing else. He had wanted to say something, give a snark-filled reply, but all that came of it was a mumbled, "Duh." And nothing else.

Rook trudged out onto the street, surely betting that Ayessa and that Droid were right behind him. His strut had kicked in, moving with that walk from before, the one that was bound to keep him from trouble. Wrong. It seemed as if they were safe for now, or so his eyes that ran rampant had told him. The Blaster that was once held in his hand rest on his hip and within it's holster, but it wasn't clipped in- ready to be snatched at any moment.

His pace was quick, a power-walk, moving with urgency. "Just keep walking. Everything will be fine​." Rook reassured Ayessa, the one person who needed no words of safety. "They'll be gone soon enough." He continued to add on, almost as if he was trying to convince himself. Ayessa hadn't appreciated it very much when he stole the first time, but hopefully the next act of plucking two poncho appearing items of clothing hadn't bothered her too much. It had been done mid-stride, leaning over towards a storefront that conveniently had it's owner looking in the other direction. Before he knew it, Rook and Ayessa had slipped into the crowd.

Without even casting her a glance he offered one in her direction, "Here." Was the word he chose to accompany it, slinking his own over his head and covering his torso. They say that clothing was the easiest thing to identify of someone. Couldn't run that risk.

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]

 

[Ayessa Kroan]

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:47 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ I'm a Wanted Man
——————————————————————

Oh, if only.

Ayessa had the sort of look about her that made it hard to blend in. Sure, she was short, letting crowds swallow her up, but also strikingly angular with distinct markings any half-decent merc worth his credit chits would be able to pick out and remember. That was partially why she didn't make a single noise of complaint when he casually threw her stolen goods as if he'd owned them his whole life. Shrugging the fabric over her head she let a soft sigh leave her chest, suddenly alive with sensitivity, the right spiritual cords tangling within to give her access to the whole damn power grid.

It was from the mix of adrenaline and anxiety running up and down her body that produced this bump in the Force, familiar faintly from the numerous undercover missions she had undertaken as a Padawan. Suddenly she had a vivid level of situational awareness no smuggler could hope to beat, measuring and sensing the shifting sea of people around them in vigilant search of their hunters. Using it wisely, however, was a different story altogether. The disguise offered didn't do much except hide her upper body, which was decidedly good enough, and the Kiffar was left idly pulling on a few dull curls of hair to undo her intricate hairstyle of braids and buns once she haf the poncho situated best. With it down, she'd look like an entirely different person from behind, no matter how decidedly uncomfortable it was for her personally. Long hair was a combat hazard and she didn't know of a Jedi alive or dead who actually liked the smell of a lightsaber searing strands of hair to ash.

"Of course they will be. So, what did you do to those guys, exactly?" No doubt about it, this incognito Ayessa definitely sounded like she needed little comfort, though her tone lacked necessary bravado to properly call it confident. It was an absolute comfort to have the Force truly be with her but it still did little to calm her ragged, shot nerves. The searing in her shoulder dropped to a faint, wandering pulse of pain that she could compartimentalize away for the time being, to keep attention on him and the people around them indirectly acting as a shield. For the first time since their meeting the astromech had clammed up and kept good pace behind them, on occasion the dome head pivoted to watch the crowds around them like a tin can guard dog. Things might be looking up for the newly christened trio.

 

[Rook Lokar]

Rook's expression became almost perplexed. Lost in a thought as his head rolled around on his shoulders in shambles. There were a great many things he ought to of done that was going to irritate a certain cartel, or syndicate. Be it from not running a job for them, messing up something they had in store, or possibly losing the goods they had paid him to deliver. As mention previously, it was the final of the three. Geonosian Prisons weren't desirable, and being on the train heading directly there was enough to 'scare one straight' if you got the meaning. Ayessa, being perceptive enough, was bound to.

The scoundrel's head turned side on, facing Ayessa as they waded through the street itself. "I, erh, got sprung." In reality it was as simple as that. His youthful features returned to the location ahead, determining when and where their stop off point was, and if any 'trouble' was lurking. "Ended up on a Geonosian Prison train. Let's leave it at that." Yes, lets.

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]

 

[Ayessa Kroan]

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:49 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ I'm a Wanted Man
——————————————————————

Geonosian. It had to be Geonosis, didn't it?

Cee-Four let out a quiet wordless whistle of foresight at Rook's words and the Jedi merely cringed, sucking air past her teeth slightly. If she never went back to that dustball again she could die happy, that was for sure; even the mere mention of the brutal site of war made certain marks on her body ache in faint memory, and a hand raised to idly rub at the long, thin scar on her jaw in rememberance. A gift, from one of those terrifying, clicking, screaming bugs that Ayessa had cut down in droves to save her men from nightmarish fates, "Sounds like a good idea to leave it." She wanted to leave it too, wholeheartedly, almost eagerly.

"Do you know where we're going?" The hand moved up to idly smooth down the flyaways in her unnecessarily curly hair before dropping to her side again, to have fingers trace the barely-there outline of a flashlight-like accessory hidden under layers of clever cloth in reassuring patterns, "Because I'm starting to think you might not. I think we've shaken them anyhow." Well, she wasn't fully sure, but it was hard to pin them down in the murkyness of Nar Shaddaa. That either meant they had given up (good), were purposely following out of visual sight and sense range (bad), or knew how to avoid a Force user (worst).

 

[Rook Lokar]

These were questions he didn't exactly need, or want to hear. His concentration was never great when he believed someone else was gnawing at his mind, trying to pry his thoughts as he conjured them. It certainly wasn't going to show, and he appeared nothing short of sure of himself, in his stance, expression, and more. Although, nothing seemed to be new there, now did it? Ayessa hadn't known Rook long, but it was easy to tell this was something similar to his general disposition. He hadn't encountered anything that had shattered that demeanour just yet. Hopefully, with any luck, he wouldn't ever.

So, his 'plan' was finally devised for the next two steps. "Yeah. This way." It wasn't a real answer, leaving Ayessa as in the dark as she was originally. He hooked a mean left into a turnoff, surely heading in that direction until he, well, didn't. Grinding to a sudden halt, and moving back the way he came. There was more than one armed killer in that direction. Further descending or ascending into the depths or heavens of Nar Shaddaa. The space station ought to be this way, though, right?

His pace quickened, "Maybe not."

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]

 

[Ayessa Kroan]

Nar Shaddaa, Corellian Sector Outskirts, 01:50 AM Local Time
Interacting with [member="Rook Lokar"] ~ I'm a Wanted Man
——————————————————————

Well, at least she wasn't literally gnawing at his mind. With the Force, that is; she still had a modicum of privacy drilled into her strict Jedi mind and didn't want to see what exactly he was thinking behind that calm facade. Quickly halting in a move of future sight to avoid getting steamrolled by him, she wound up slightly behind Rook’s poncho’d form as he led her to and then led her fro after they whipped back around, to go the way they came. All the while the astromech trundled on, hushed probably out of fear, “Please tell me you’re a good shot.” Ayessa murmured in a voice that was low to guarantee privacy but loud enough that he could hear, just over his shoulder. For all intents and purposes she was unarmed and didn't like it one bit -- Or maybe she just didn’t like putting her life in his hands. He didn’t seem the type to keep a firm grip on that sort of thing, or on anything for that matter.

Like sand through your fingers, I could slip.

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from making a noise of displeasure, she continued to madly follow his lead.

 

[Rook Lokar]

Bad.

That summed up this situation rather adequately, now didn't it? Pacing through the bustling, grungy streets of Nar Shaddaa within the wee hours of the night, or the early hours of the morning. A stolen item of clothing utilised to conceal his identity with a lingering sense of futility. Several armed figures converging on his location from all angles, every one of them ready to blow him away with the single, light squeeze of their blaster. Someone he stupidly dragged into his scenario, and a snark-bot trailing behind. So, yes. Bad was exactly how Rook was to describe this situation.

Left. Right. Forwards. Backwards. A combination of two, or somehow create a three-way mix. Rook's head had rolled over, facing Ayessa immediately after she spoke, seemingly questioning his ability to shoot a blaster. His eyes looked beyond her, staring into the eyes of an armed individual who must've had specialised gear, or a condition that removed it's ability to be sensed through the mystical power that Ayessa possessed. Rook seemed to almost lunge forwards whilst his right hand shifted straight down to his right leg, snatching his Blaster Pistol and raised it with speed. A singular shot rang out, impacting the alien's body, dropping it like a rock.

Rook's eyes diverted back onto Ayessa, replying with a simple yet smug, "Yeah." But now, of all moments, was the time to move. Instinctively, he snatched at her hand, saying, "C'mon." And running off into the night, but for no other reason than survival. Let's see if C4 can keep up.

[member="Ayessa Kroan"]