First Reply Luck Optional (Open)

[Kitt Solo]

'Never trust a Hutt with perfect teeth.'

Kitt wasn't entirely sure where she'd first heard that nugget of wisdom. Her dad? A drunken spacer? Maybe it had been printed on the back of a ration wrapper. Either way, the saying felt relevant. Mostly because the Hutt currently trying to sell her a "genuine Jedi relic" had the whitest, straightest teeth she'd ever seen.

"Bummbowsa," she drawled, one gloved finger poking the rusty hydrospanner resting atop a velvet pillow. "This is a hydrospanner."

The Hutt smiled wider.

"It was owned by a Jedi."

"Uh huh."

"It has sentimental value."

One hip cocked to the side as she gave the Hutt a look. "It has rust."

"Authentic rust."

"Gorram." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You almost had me." Almost. Not really.

The bustling market around them swallowed the conversation whole. Hawkers barked over one another. A trio of Rodians argued over whose turn it was to cheat at sabacc. Somewhere nearby, something with far too many legs screamed like it had just discovered taxes. Kitt loved markets. Everyone came looking for something: credits, information, adventure, sex, lunch.

She stepped away from the Hutt's stall before she accidentally bought something stupid. Again. Last time it'd been an "ancient Sith compass." Turned out it only pointed toward the nearest cantina. Useful, admittedly.

A warm breeze carried the smell of fried nuna and engine coolant across the promenade. Her stomach immediately sided with the nuna.

"Traitor," she muttered to it.

The bounty puck in her jacket chirped. Myrtle ellipses narrowed beneath the brim of her beat-up flight cap. Pulling the puck free, she frowned at the flickering display.

PRIORITY CONTRACT AVAILABLE.

That wasn't strange. The reward amount was."Well butter my biscuits." Someone had either done something spectacularly illegal or spectacularly embarrassing. Either way, there were enough zeroes on the display to make even honest people consider a brief career change. "Knew I should've skipped breakfast."

She thumbed the file open. The image never fully rendered. Instead, the puck hissed, sparked, and projected a burst of static that danced through the air like blue lightning before dying altogether. Gorram it.

Around her, conversations faltered. The market seemed to inhale all at once. Her senses prickled. Myrtle ellipses scanned the market. Someone had come for the bounty.

Or, someone had come because of it.

"Please don't be a Sith. Actually, scratch that. Please don't be paperwork." She slipped the dead puck back into her jacket, absently resting one hand near the blaster hanging low on her hip while the other reached into a paper sack she'd bought three stalls ago.

Crunch.

The candied meiloorun chips were excellent. If she was about to have the worst day of her week she figured she might as well enjoy the snacks first.

 

[Braze]

Tags: Kitt Solo

​

Braze had come to the marketplace in pursuit of an elusive man whose face was never truly his own. The shapeshifter had made a habit of murdering political figures, assuming their identities, and quietly redirecting entire governments toward policies that served his private interests. Trade agreements shifted, whilst investigations vanished. Public funds bled into shell companies and hidden accounts until his profits reached an obscene scale, all while the dead continued smiling from podiums through borrowed flesh.

Finding him had proven another matter entirely. Braze moved through the crowded stalls with his hood lowered and his pale hair left visible, searching for the smaller inconsistencies most people ignored: an accent that belonged to another province, or even just a gesture repeated too carefully, or a familiar face that did not recognize its own acquaintances. Somewhere among the merchants, travelers, and wandering hunters, his quarry might already be wearing a new life. Braze slowed near the edge of the market, jade-green eyes passing over the sudden quiet as one hand settled near the concealed hilt at his side.

"Where... are you... "

 

[Kitt Solo]

She leaned against the side of a vendor's stall, swallowing that chip. Eyes scanned the crowd. Picked up on a cloaked pale-haired stranger. It was a useful skill when your entire career revolved around finding people who did not want to be found. Also because the guy had the unmistakable energy of someone who looked like he'd rather interrogate a criminal than admit he needed directions.

Classic.

And he was on the edge of the quiet crowd. Kitt tilted her head, myrtle-ellipses narrowing. Fingers deftly stuffed meilroon chips back in her jacket pocket. Giving them a light pat and satisfied they were safely tucked away, she let herself disappear into the rhythm of the marketplace, tailing that mook. There was something about him that felt focused. Like he wasn't here for credits. Most bounty hunters smelled desperation. This guy smelled like purpose.

That was usually more dangerous.

Could be here for any number of reasons but Kitt bet a credchit it was for the same bounty she was after. All she had to go after was a partial image. She was pretty sure it had been a Zeltron. And in front of that pale-haired stranger there was a Zeltron who ducked into one of the seedy cantinas. Fingers lightly brushed that blaster on her hip as she continued to tale the mysterious cloaked stranger Braze .

At least she'd get a chance to wet her whistle.

 

[Braze]

Kitt Solo
Braze was fairly small, standing only about five-foot-two for a young adult male. He possessed a lithe figure, draped in a wraparound dark cloak lined with rich black fur, its folds concealing the small arsenal of weapons hidden beneath.

A pair of compact droids accompanied him. One, shaped like a small saucer, hovered nearby; the other perched within the furred portion of his cloak where it wrapped around his neck, often nestling beneath the resting hood while keeping watch in several directions at once.

He entered the cantina at an unhurried pace, offering the room a quiet, searching look before making his way toward the bar. There, he ordered a glass of hydro flavored with jogan syrup and settled the tab immediately.

Braze hopped up onto one of the stools and perched there, his feet hanging far above the floor. He took several measured sips from his drink while his jade-green eyes moved across the cantina’s patrons beneath the low light.

The particular shapeshifter he had come looking for was rumored to have stolen his visage and had already begun causing problems under his name. Braze could not permit that to continue, though he was not entirely certain whether this latest acquisition was the same shapeshifter who had been plaguing his life.

Regardless… he intended to find out. For what it was worth he didn't seem to notice the girl following him or if he did he didnt draw attention to it nor did he seem concerned. He was hyper vilggilant and focused on the task at hand.

 

[Kitt Solo]

Kitt followed the short figure, Braze , inside the cantina at an appropriate distance. She stepped inside the familiar cocktail of spilled ale, grease, and poor decisions replacing the biting air outside. Myrtle-ellipses adjusted to the dim light while gloved fingers lingered near the holster at her hip. The Force brushed against dozens of emotions at once—drunken laughter, quiet desperation, greed, and fear. It was the same song every cantina seemed to sing.

Her gaze found the small figure she'd tailed into the cantina. Five-foot-nothing, wrapped in enough fur to survive Hoth, with a droid hovering faithfully nearby. He wasn't the reason she'd come. He was simply following the same trail. Her senses reached beyond him, riding the currents of emotion flowing through the room. A spike of apprehension. Nervous anticipation tucked beneath practiced confidence. Someone watching the watcher.

There.

Those green eyes of hers settled on the Zeltron. The bounty puck tucked inside her jacket had been accurate after all. A corner of her mouth twitched upward.

"Gorram it..."

Not because she'd found him. Because he'd chosen this cantina. The Force remained open as she drifted away from the entrance, weaving between tables with the unhurried confidence of someone simply looking for her next drink. She didn't acknowledge Braze. Didn't need to. Whatever game he was playing with the Zeltron wasn't hers. Not yet.

Instead, she angled toward her quarry. She stopped alongside the Zeltron with an easy smile, resting an elbow against the edge of the table as though greeting an old acquaintance. "Mind if I join you?"

A beat.

"I've been looking all over the galaxy for you." And that's when the Zeltron whipped out his blaster and fired.