Private No Easy Trust

[Rhyse Vanto]

He chuckled at what she said and continued on in silence.

Soon enough they arrived at her ship. He almost missed it among all the junk. It wasn't flashy, but it looked practical. Not all that different from his own vessel, honestly. He'd never wanted a ship that drew attention. If people mistook it for a simple transport, he could get into places without every local authority immediately alerting his target that trouble had arrived. He preferred it that way.

When she mentioned the cargo hold, he followed her aboard and toward the compartment she indicated. It was basically a brig. Maybe not technically, but functionally it got the job done.

Rhyse unceremoniously dumped their captive onto the floor. Not because his back hurt. He just didn't like the guy. He also gave him a quick kick for good measure. That was for shooting at him. Hopefully it'd still be sore when he woke up.

"Stupid bastard," he muttered as he wiped his hands on his trousers and stepped back out.

Once she sealed the compartment, things finally seemed under control. For the moment, anyway.

"Food first. Yes, it's a date. Contact info after food and after I make sure you get back to your ship without any trouble."

He still wasn't convinced they were completely in the clear.

If there had been two hunters after the same target, there were probably more. Maybe even groups with deeper pockets and more resources. Until Kessa was safely off-world, he wasn't particularly interested in letting her wander around alone.

Professional courtesy.

Mostly.

"So," he said, a grin creeping across his face, "what classy joint are we hitting?"

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa watched the entire sequence unfold with an expression that hovered somewhere between approval and disbelief. From the unceremonious drop to the petty kick and the muttered insult, she couldn't help but shake her head, a soft chuckle giving her away.

"You know, for somebody who keeps insisting he's a professional, you have some remarkably strong opinions about your clients."

The compartment door slid shut behind Malachar before he could receive any additional commentary on the matter. The locking mechanisms engaged with a heavy metallic clunk that left very little doubt about his chances of escaping, and once satisfied, Kessa turned her full attention back to the considerably more pleasant company remaining aboard her ship.

As Rhyse began outlining the evening's priorities, she stepped a little closer, raising one finger to count along. "Food first."

A second finger joined it, her eyes locking onto his with a quiet warmth. "Date."

The corner of her mouth twitched upward as a third finger followed. "Contact information afterward." She paused, letting her gaze linger on him for a beat too long before adding a fourth finger to the count. "And apparently an escort service to make sure I survive the walk back to my own ship."

The observation carried enough genuine amusement to suggest she found his protective streak more endearing than she let on—and she certainly didn't intend to discourage it. Once she was satisfied he had, in fact, checked every box on her list, Kessa slowly lowered her hand, though she didn't step back right away.

"I wouldn't call it classy," she murmured, a genuine smile breaking through as she finally turned to lead the way toward the ramp. "But they make the best nerf burgers I've had on this side of the system."

She paused near the exit, casting a playful, sidelong glance back over her shoulder at him.

"Which means either they're genuinely good, or Bracca has completely ruined my standards. Honestly, it could go either way, but I suppose you'll just have to trust my taste tonight."

The lingering warmth in her eyes made it clear she wasn't just talking about the food. Turning back toward the open ramp, she headed down into the cool night air. For the first time since entering Malachar's compound, there was nowhere she needed to rush to and nothing trying to shoot her. That alone was enough to put her in a spectacular mood, but the fact that she was sharing it with someone she actually wanted to keep around was an entirely unexpected bonus.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

He lofted a brow.

"Huh?" he asked before glancing back toward the brig. "Oh, no. I just don't like people like him. Dealt with my fair share of Imperial scumbags. Plus he shot at me."

As she stepped closer, his eyes widened ever so slightly. One finger. Then another. Then another. She was ticking off his list one point at a time. Honestly, he hadn't expected that. He'd been fully prepared for her to reject the whole date thing outright. Kessa didn't seem like the type to go looking for romance with a fellow bounty hunter, and he was still fairly certain she found at least half of his behavior irritating.

Yet the way she spoke to him—and the way she looked at him—suggested otherwise. Which was frankly confusing. Women like her usually weren't interested.

"Hey, I just gotta make sure nobody jumps you and takes Malachar," he said. "You get axed and it'll make me look bad."

It was only a partial deflection. There was a genuine chance someone else might try to snatch the target, and as long as he was around, he wasn't going to let that happen. The rest of the truth was a little harder to admit. He wanted to make sure she got back safely because he liked her. And he wasn't exactly opposed to spending more time with her, either.

"Burgers, huh? I can get behind a good greasy burger. Seems like the sort of thing Bracca would do well."

He followed her off the ship, finally free to look around instead of hauling an unconscious bounty over his shoulder. Unfortunately, that also meant he noticed other things.

Like the view.

Oh yeah.

This woman was dangerous.

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa listened to his explanation about Malachar and immediately accepted it. Honestly, she probably would have been more concerned if Rhyse didn't have strong opinions about people like that; hunters saw the galaxy at its worst often enough to develop distinct preferences, and some just happened to be more vocal about them than others. "Fair enough," she conceded, a faint smile appearing as she leaned into the shared sentiment. "He did shoot at us, after all." The distinction felt important. A strict professional might not take a stray blaster bolt personally, but Kessa saw no reason they couldn't be excellent at their jobs and still enjoy the thought of an unpleasant man waking up with a well-deserved headache.

As they left the shadow of her ship behind, she glanced toward him, catching the slight deflection in his voice when he offered his explanation regarding Malachar's safety. The excuse sounded reasonable enough, possibly even true, but it also sounded suspiciously like the sort of shield someone reached for when they preferred not to voice the alternative. Deciding not to make his life difficult by pointing it out just yet, she let her tone soften into easy irony. "How incredibly thoughtful of you." The dry amusement in her voice made it abundantly clear she wasn't entirely convinced by his corporate-liability defense, but there was an underlying warmth to it now, an unspoken appreciation for the fact that he was sticking around.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they made their way back toward the pulsing lights of the settlement. For the first time all evening, neither of them was actively tracking a mark, dodging crossfire, or calculating infiltration routes, and the shift in tempo was surprisingly nice. When he mentioned the burgers, she offered a genuine nod of agreement. "Greasy, unhealthy, and probably responsible for several documented medical conditions," she described, her tone openly approving. "Which, on a world like this, is exactly how you know they're good."

As the ambient noise of civilization swelled around them. There was the distant groan of heavy machinery cutting through the Bracca night, the low hum of drifters and scrappers moving between cantinas. Kessa slowed her stride just a fraction. It wasn't weariness that pulled at her steps, but a rare, unexpected contentment with the pace they were keeping. By all accounts, the evening should have ended the moment the brig doors sealed Malachar away. Instead, the boundary between the job and whatever was happening now had simply dissolved, leaving the rest of the night entirely open.

Her gaze drifted back to him, lingering a moment longer than before. "You know..." she began thoughtfully, her lips curving into a faint, inviting smile as she walked beside him. "Most hunters I've worked with would have either gotten us killed, stolen the contract, or complained the entire time. You only tried one of those." She let the joke hang in the space between them, a playful challenge left entirely to his imagination as they headed toward the bright doorway of the diner, leaving the door wide open for whatever he had to say next.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

He had to make a conscious effort not to stare at her ass the entire walk. Fortunately, he possessed just enough self-control to move up beside her instead of trailing behind. A lot harder to stare when you couldn't see what you were trying not to stare at.

"I hope they have grilled onions," he said, already picturing the perfect burger. "Pickles too. Cheese dripping off the sides."

A wistful sigh escaped him. Now he was making himself hungry.

When she brought up the realities of working with other hunters, he nodded along until she mentioned he'd already tried one of those things. His brows lifted. Which one? He didn't think he'd complained much. He definitely hadn't tried to steal the bounty.

Then it clicked.

She was messing with him.

"Oh, you're a wily one."

He pointed at her accusingly.

"You knew I'd run through every possibility in my head trying to figure out what I'd done wrong."

A grin spread across his face.

"Jerk."

Reaching over, he gave her a light, playful shove.

"I'm a little reckless, I know."

He paused.

"Within reason, though."

Another pause.

"Mostly."

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa listened to his increasingly detailed description of the perfect burger and found herself shaking her head, the smile threatening the corner of her mouth making it difficult to appear genuinely critical. "You realize we're still several minutes away and you're already emotionally invested in this meal," she observed, her voice layered with dry amusement. "If they don't have grilled onions, I may have to deal with a second tragedy tonight." The fact that she delivered the line with a completely straight face only highlighted her enjoyment of his performance, an enjoyment that only deepened as she watched him work through her earlier accusation piece by piece. She caught the exact moment the realization hit him, followed immediately by the pointing finger and the accusation of being a jerk.

"Just like when I counted off your answers back on the ship," she countered, a faintly satisfied expression returning to her face as she flicked her gaze toward him. "I have to keep you on your toes somehow."

The playful shove caught her completely by surprise. Not because it was particularly forceful, but because almost nobody touched her casually. Her reaction was immediate and dramatically disproportionate; Kessa stumbled a full step sideways, throwing an arm out as though she were moments from falling into a bottomless abyss, and stared at him with an exaggerated look of betrayal. "Assault," she declared solemnly. The accusation lasted all of two seconds before she broke and let out a genuine laugh, warm and entirely unguarded in a way that had been notably absent for most of the evening.

Shaking her head as she regained her composure and fell back into stride beside him, she gave him a long, thoughtful look. "Mostly?" she echoed, the skepticism in her tone impossible to miss. "You modified a blaster until it became one adjustment away from becoming a grenade, and you crawled through ventilation ducts to infiltrate a guarded compound. I'm not saying you're reckless, I'm just saying your definition of reasonable appears unusually flexible. And yes, before you point it out, I know I'm the one who suggested dinner in the first place, but I think you'd probably do exactly the same thing to me if our positions were reversed."

The observation sounded less like a challenge and more like a fond conclusion she had already reached. As the lights of the Bracca settlement drew closer, she realized she didn't particularly mind the teasing, the flirting, or the company—and certainly not the fact that the walk was starting to feel much shorter than it should have. "Which means," she added with a faint, inviting smile, "we're probably both in trouble."

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

He threw his arms out in an exaggerated shrug.

"Hey, I like a good burger, alright? If they don't have onions, I'll survive. It just won't hit as hard as it could."

When she turned his playful shove into an accusation of assault, he wasn't falling for it this time. Rhyse stopped dead in his tracks.

He squared up, raised his fists, and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet like some ridiculous old-time holoboxer.

"A wise guy, eh?" he said, slipping into the bit without hesitation. "Come 'ere. Put up your dukes. I'll teach you to be smart!"

The act lasted all of three seconds.

Then she laughed.

And he laughed.

Just like that, the mock fight was over. Still grinning, he moved alongside her and draped an arm over her shoulder as they resumed walking. The gesture felt easy. Familiar. The sort of thing he'd do with a friend after a job well done. He didn't think much about it. At least, not until she kept talking.

"I did," he admitted. "I wanted Riot to hit hard. Sometimes you've gotta shoot armored guards, and I wanted them going down in one shot. Had to push the limits a little."

A grin tugged at his lips.

"Same with the ducts. Needed a way upstairs without being seen. The ducts worked."

He paused.

"At least until someone decided to air out the entire second floor."

He gave her shoulder a playful squeeze.

"And you bet that sweet, sexy ass I would've invited you out if the roles were reversed."

When she mentioned them being in trouble, his grin widened.

"So much trouble."

He shook his head.

"It's gonna be one hell of a night."

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

The ridiculous boxing stance nearly did her in.

Kessa had spent the better part of the evening watching him crawl through ventilation systems, improvise his way through a compound full of armed guards, and carry an unconscious former Imperial across rooftops without ever seeming particularly concerned about any of it. Somehow, seeing him square up like a holodrama prizefighter and bounce around with his fists raised was what finally broke her.

A laugh escaped before she could stop it.

"You're impossible."

The accusation carried no real weight. At some point during the evening, she had accepted that Rhyse simply approached life differently than most people she knew. Where others saw obstacles, he seemed to see stories he would laugh about later. It was reckless. Occasionally ridiculous. Against her better judgment, she was beginning to find it charming.

When he slipped an arm around her shoulders after the mock confrontation ended, she noticed immediately. Not because the gesture was unwelcome, but because she noticed almost everything. Years spent hunting people for a living had made awareness second nature, and casual physical contact was uncommon enough to go unnoticed. For the briefest moment, instinct suggested creating a little distance.

Instead, she kept walking. The realization surprised her more than she cared to admit.

His explanation regarding Riot earned a thoughtful nod. She could understand the logic behind it, even if she still thought the weapon sounded like a disaster waiting for an opportunity. Hunters survived by finding advantages where they could, and there was certainly an advantage in carrying something capable of punching through armor before the other side knew what had happened.

The comment about the ventilation system, however, earned an unmistakable look. "I save us from a security office full of guards and somehow I'm the villain in that story." There was enough amusement in her voice to make it obvious she wasn't genuinely complaining.

The rest of his explanation was easier to follow. She could see the reasoning. The blaster had worked. The ducts had worked. Even if she suspected luck had played a supporting role in both successes, the results were difficult to argue with.

Then came the rest of the sentence. The compliment caught her far more effectively than the grin accompanying it.

Most men who tried lines like that sounded rehearsed. Others delivered them with the subtlety of a thermal detonator and expected immediate results for their effort. Rhyse somehow managed to sound as though he genuinely believed what he was saying and had simply decided she ought to know.

That made it considerably harder to dismiss. Kessa glanced toward him, holding his gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

"You know, most people wait until at least halfway through dinner before they start trying lines like that." There was warmth in the observation now, the sort that had gradually appeared over the course of the evening and never quite left again. "If our positions had been reversed, you absolutely would have invited me to dinner."

The corner of her mouth twitched upward.

The lights of the diner were visible now, glowing warmly against the industrial gloom of Bracca. The smell of grease and grilled meat drifted faintly through the night air, accompanied by the low murmur of conversation from inside.

For a few moments, Kessa simply walked beside him, comfortable enough with the silence that she felt no need to fill it. That, more than anything else, surprised her.

Most partnerships ended the moment the contract did. People collected their credits, exchanged a few words, and disappeared back into the galaxy. It was cleaner that way. Simpler.

Yet here she was, heading toward dinner with a hunter she had met only hours ago and finding herself genuinely glad the evening wasn't over yet.

When he declared they were in trouble, she laughed softly and shook her head. "Mostly." The single word carried all the skepticism it needed. Whether she was referring to his definition of reasonable or their current situation was left entirely unclear.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

"I nearly died in those vents because of you!"

He sounded genuinely offended. He wasn't.

Mostly.

Sure, he wouldn't actually have died if he'd stayed in the vents, but after smelling whatever horrors had been festering in there, he might have wished he had. Just thinking about it made him wrinkle his nose. Stars, that had been awful.

Since she hadn't pulled away, he kept his arm draped around her shoulders. Nothing strange about that. Just two good friends heading out for dinner after a successful job. Perfectly normal.

When she commented on his line, he immediately adopted a look of wounded innocence.

"What line? I was just telling the truth."

Okay, maybe it had been a little bit of a line. But only a little. Mostly it had been the truth. Sure, there had been some embellishment involved. The comment about her ass, for example. But even that was built on an entirely honest assessment of the situation. It wasn't like he was composing poetry or declaring eternal love.

That would be cheesy. Rhyse wasn't cheesy. He was goofy. There was a difference.

The fact she'd turned his own word back on him wasn't lost either.

Mostly.

He liked that word. It was useful. Still, he let it slide and continued walking beside her, keeping her close. Partly because he enjoyed her company. Partly because he'd be an idiot not to.

When they reached the diner, he held the door open for her and immediately regretted it. The place was packed. Work crews must have just gotten paid, because every table seemed occupied. And half the room was already noticing Kessa.

Yeah.

Definitely keeping her close.

"Very busy," he said, spotting a table that had just opened up.

He pointed dramatically.

"Quick! Claim it!"

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa listened to his renewed complaints about the ventilation system with an expression that suggested she was fighting a losing battle against amusement.

"'Nearly died' is a very dramatic description for smelling something unpleasant," she noted, her gaze sliding toward him as the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "But you're very brave, Rhyse. Truly." The sympathy was entirely fictional, and at this point, she felt no obligation to hide it.

His insistence that he had simply been telling the truth earned another look, one that lingered just long enough to suggest she was weighing whether or not to believe him. The problem was that she did, which made it difficult. Most compliments could be easily dismissed as exaggerated or transparently self-serving, but Rhyse delivered his with the same casual certainty he used when discussing weapons or bounty contracts. There was no sense that he was trying to convince her of anything; he simply said what he thought, leaving Kessa to decide whether that trait was refreshing, dangerous, or a potent mix of both.

By the time they reached the diner, the warmth spilling through the windows and the noise drifting out through the doorway felt almost surreal after the evening they had just survived. The heavy scent of grilled meat, fried onions, and grease hit them first—the sort of comfort food that made no promises about health but every promise about improving a mood. Stepping inside, she immediately understood his reaction. The place was packed to the brim with rowdy work crews, conversations overlapping in loud, scattered bursts of laughter, while someone near the back lost an argument loudly enough to invite the entire room to join in.

Following his gaze toward the newly vacated booth, Kessa also tracked the direction of several other eyes in the room, turning toward them. Her own eyes narrowed slightly. Not with annoyance, but with a hunter's quiet awareness.

When Rhyse pointed dramatically toward the opening and declared it a matter of strategic urgency, she let out a soft laugh, effortlessly cutting through the noise of the crowd. "I refuse to survive a compound full of armed guards only to lose a booth because you were busy playing commander," she teased, her voice carrying far more amusement than actual urgency. Without waiting for him to reply, she reached out, caught his wrist, and decisively guided them through the throng toward the table before anyone else could claim it.

For the first time all evening, the competition around them felt considerably less dangerous and entirely worth the effort.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

"Yes, I am," he said, tugging at the edges of his jacket. "Thank you for noticing."

He was being facetious. So was she. That was half the fun. Banter like this could improve just about any day, even one that had involved getting shot at.

The laugh he earned when he went full Captain Cody over the newly vacated booth only widened his grin. Success.

Allowing her to drag him along, he followed her to the table and slid into the seat opposite. Not entirely by accident. From there he could keep an eye on the entrance and the flow of people coming and going. Not that he was worried. His trigger finger definitely wasn't getting itchy beneath the table.

Definitely not.

The serving droid appeared almost immediately.

"What'll ya have?"

"I'll have a double with cheese and onions, a side of fries, and whatever swill you've got on tap."

A man had priorities.

Once he'd finished ordering, he waited for Kessa to do the same. Then, with a small wink, he casually shifted one leg until it rested lightly against hers beneath the table. A gamble. But one he felt pretty good about.

"You come to Bracca often?" he asked. "Don't know how you'd find a place like this if you didn't."

His gaze drifted around the diner.

"I can't imagine the locals are the main attraction."

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa listened to his declaration of bravery with all the mock seriousness it deserved, which was none at all. The fact that he immediately leaned into the joke rather than defending himself only made her smile widen. By now, she was seriously beginning to suspect that if the galaxy ever presented Rhyse with a perfectly reasonable opportunity to behave normally, he would reject it entirely on principle.

The serving droid arrived before she could test that theory any further, and Kessa barely needed to glance at the greasy menu.

"Nerf burger," she ordered smoothly, her eyes drifting briefly toward Rhyse with a spark of amusement. "Grilled onions, lettuce, pickles, and enough condiments that I thoroughly regret it afterward. And fries." She paused, offering the droid a wry nod. "Apparently, we're making questionable decisions tonight."

Once the machine rolled away, she settled deeply back into the booth and allowed herself to relax for what felt like the first time all evening. The diner was noisy in a comfortable, grounding sort of way; conversations overlapped, glasses clinked together, and somewhere near the counter, a group of off-duty scrappers appeared to be arguing about hyperdrive machinery with enough passion that one might have mistaken it for core-world politics. The atmosphere felt refreshingly ordinary, a stark contrast to the quiet tension of their hunt.

When Rhyse's question pulled her thoughts back to the table, her attention returned to him completely.

"A few times," she answered easily, her gaze wandering for a brief moment toward the window overlooking the darkened scrapyards beyond. "I haven't always been a hunter. My previous job brought me out to Bracca once or twice."

There was no lingering discomfort in the statement, just the weight of memory. The planet itself had looked exactly the same back then—the endless fields of skeletal scrap, the half-dismantled warships, and the constant, crushing grind of heavy industry. She had simply been a different person then.

"The work wasn't nearly as exciting, though," she added, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "Significantly fewer ventilation systems to crawl through."

Only then did she become fully aware of his leg resting lightly against hers beneath the table. The realization arrived without a shred of surprise; he wasn't exactly known for his subtlety. Her eyes lifted to meet his, but she said nothing about the sudden contact, making no effort to move away or break the connection. Instead, she simply regarded him for a quiet moment before her faint, teasing smile returned.

"What about you?" she asked, leaning back slightly to study his expression. "Please tell me you didn't sprout fully formed out of a bounty guild. I'd like to believe there was at least one quiet, agonizingly normal job somewhere in your past."

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

He shook his head.

"Nothing questionable here. We just like greasy spoons."

Even though he knew the droid couldn't possibly care, he still gave it a wink as it rolled away. There was no normal. There was only Rhyse.

The diner was a battlefield of competing smells. Grease, fried food, cheap alcohol, machine oil, and something he sincerely hoped wasn't machine oil. The onions never stood a chance.

His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the scrappers and local officials sharing tables and drinks as though this was the most natural thing in the galaxy. Iron stomachs had to be a job requirement on Bracca. He could handle it for a meal. No way in hell could he do it every day.

"That sounds boring. There's nothing better than a good duct crawl. Really gets the blood flowing."

A smirk tugged at his lips.

The jabs kept coming, but he knocked them away as fast as she threw them. He was speed. He was wit. He was Rhyse Vanto. And he was absolutely not losing a battle of banter.

"You're gonna have to tell me what kind of job brought you here at some point, though. Even if it was boring."

His leg shifted slightly against hers beneath the table. He didn't break eye contact. She hadn't moved away. More importantly, she hadn't kicked him in the nuts.He considered that a positive sign.

When she asked about his past, he shrugged and waved a hand dismissively.

"Just the usual stuff," he said in a deliberately bored tone. "Courier work. Smuggling. Rescuing slaves from the Sith."

Another shrug.

"Nothing special."

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa stared at him for a moment, and then another, letting his completely dismissive tone hang in the air just long enough for the sheer absurdity of his list to fully register.

Courier work. Smuggling. Rescuing slaves from the Sith.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Of course," she murmured, her dry response carrying a mountain of healthy skepticism. "Just the usual, everyday stuff."

She leaned back slightly in the booth, studying him with the expression of someone trying to determine whether a person was joking, entirely serious, or somehow managing both at the same time. With Rhyse, she was quickly discovering the answer was almost always all three.

"I think you and I have very different definitions of normal," she noted, a faint smile accompanying the words. His earlier question deserved an honest answer, though, and after a brief pause, she let her attention drift toward the window overlooking the darkened scrapyards beyond. The sprawling silhouette of broken ships and dismantled hulls was more than enough to pull old memories to the surface.

"I worked corporate investigations," she explained simply. "Mostly for large shipping companies and freight concerns. Missing cargo, missing personnel, or tracking down stolen shipments. Occasionally, somebody would discover half a million credits worth of high-end equipment had vanished somewhere between star systems and decide it was my problem to solve."

There wasn't a trace of embarrassment in the admission; if anything, she seemed to recall the work quite fondly. "That was actually how I ended up out here the first time, since Bracca attracts a surprising amount of missing property. Apparently, when you build a planet-sized junkyard, people just assume they can hide anything in it."

Her gaze returned to him, warm and locked onto his. "The job taught me patience, how to follow a faint trail, and how to notice the tiny details people preferred not to discuss. Eventually, I realized that tracking down the people responsible for those missing shipments was much more lucrative than just locating the cargo itself."

While that wasn't the entire truth, it was close enough for casual conversation. The reality was a bit more complicated, as things usually were; bounty hunting simply offered her absolute freedom, better pay, fewer corporate supervisors, and far less tedious paperwork.

"Though I still firmly maintain that my version of a career involved far fewer ventilation systems than yours," she added, her teasing tone returning effortlessly, "and significantly fewer explosions."

Her eyes drifted downward briefly as she became hyper-aware of the continued warmth of his leg resting against hers beneath the table. The fact that she still hadn't made any effort to move away was beginning to tell her things she wasn't entirely prepared to examine too closely just yet.

Instead, she looked back up to meet his eyes, letting immediate amusement color her question. "So, which part of that impressive list was the lie? The smuggling, the slave rescues, or the part where you pretended any of it was ordinary?"

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

"You mean you don't regularly antagonize Sith Lords by freeing their slaves before they arrive?" he asked, sounding genuinely shocked.

He wasn't. Obviously. Just like he wasn't nearly as casual about his past as he pretended to be.

The things he'd done had gotten people killed in some systems. Smuggling carried the death penalty in plenty of places. Freeing slaves that belonged to Sith Lords had earned him a few enemies too. Fortunately, none of them had caught up with him yet. And if they ever did, he'd just have to start shooting.

When she explained her previous work, he snapped his fingers. A knowing grin spread across his face.

"That makes perfect sense."

He gestured vaguely toward the world outside.

"Bracca is literally a giant chop shop."

If something vanished, this was exactly where he'd come looking for it. Still, he wagged a finger at her.

"A life without explosions just doesn't seem worth living, though. I mean, you exploded into my life and it's been a pretty enjoyable experience so far."

Subtle. Very subtle. Then again, subtlety was overrated. Especially since she still hadn't moved her leg.

When she asked what part of his past was the lie, he shrugged.

"The ordinary part."

A hand waved dismissively.

"For me, it is ordinary. Been doing stuff like that since I was a kid."

He leaned back in the booth.

"Mum had a normal job. Dad was a smuggler."

A pause.

"I think."

Another shrug.

"He wasn't around much."

The words carried surprisingly little bitterness.

"I used to filch things from people. Got fast enough that folks started using me as a courier because I could get through places other people couldn't."

His grin returned.

"Bounty hunting just pays better."

Before he could elaborate further, the serving droid arrived with their food. Rhyse immediately forgot whatever point he had been making. His attention locked onto the burger.

Juice dripped onto the plate. Cheese hung over the edges. The onions looked perfect.

"Enjoy," the droid said.

"Oh, I'm planning to enjoy a lot of things tonight."

His eyes flicked briefly toward Kessa.

"But I'll start with the burger."

Picking it up, he inhaled deeply. Onions. Toasted bun. Slightly burnt cheese. The smell alone was enough to make him happy.

He took a massive bite.

His eyes drifted closed.

For a few glorious seconds, the rest of the galaxy ceased to exist.

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa listened while he described antagonizing Sith Lords with the same casual tone most people reserved for discussing predictable weather patterns. The fact that he seemed genuinely puzzled by the idea that anyone might consider such behavior unusual only reinforced a conclusion she had already reached several times that evening.

"Yes," she replied immediately, the amusement never quite leaving her expression despite her dry tone. "Your opinion of normal and mine are entirely different."

It became even harder to maintain a straight face when he described Bracca as a giant chop shop. The observation was difficult to argue with, considering half the galaxy's missing property probably passed through the planet's vast junkyards eventually, and a surprising amount of it never left. His next line, however, earned him a very specific look—one that suggested she was currently trying to decide whether his flattery had been clever enough to deserve encouragement. For the moment, the jury remained out.

"Maybe we can find some sort of happy middle ground," she offered easily, leaning into the banter. "You can have slightly fewer explosions, and I'll agree to have slightly more." It was a reasonable compromise, which was precisely why she suspected neither of them would actually follow it.

As the conversation drifted toward his childhood, Kessa found herself listening more carefully than before, the fleeting details filling in pieces of a mental picture she had already begun assembling on her own. The early courier work and the smuggling made perfect sense, and even his habit of finding impossible routes into heavily guarded buildings suddenly felt less like pure recklessness and more like a precise skill polished over years of survival. The brief mention of an absent father explained a few things, too. Certainly not everything, but just enough to give him context.

Before she could decide whether to press for more, the serving droid arrived with their order, and the rich scent of grilled onions, fresh bread, and heavy grease hit her first. For a brief moment, Kessa had to concede that her own choice in venues had been entirely justified.

"Thank you," she murmured to the mechanical server before it rolled away toward the next table, and then she picked up her burger.

The first bite immediately made continuing the conversation considerably less important. Her eyes narrowed slightly in pure concentration as she chewed, taking a second bite before she finally set the meal back down on her plate.

"Alright," she admitted, the reluctant concession costing her just enough pride to make the praise meaningful as she offered him a faint smile. "This place is better than it has any right to be. I suppose I was right to bring us here."

As she settled comfortably back into the booth, her gaze drifted toward him again. An unexpected thought crossed her mind, though she immediately shut it down. Not a partnership, certainly not that. She had worked alone for far too long to start making massive career decisions based on a single successful contract and a good dinner. Still, the evening had gone remarkably well. He was competent, reliable, and entirely too charming for his own good; he was more reckless than she preferred, yet somehow just responsible enough to survive the galaxy's worst corners. For perhaps the first time all night, Kessa found herself wondering what the next job might look like if she didn't automatically assume she would be taking it on alone, a realization that was thoroughly annoying and, if she was being completely honest, not entirely unwelcome.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

He shrugged at her comment about normal and took another bite of his burger. A grin immediately spread across his face. Now this was living.

The combination of nerf, cheese, and onions hit exactly the way he'd hoped it would. For a few glorious seconds, everything else faded into the background. No bounty hunters. No Imperials. No jobs. Just a really good burger.

He swallowed and immediately took another bite. Priorities. When he finished, he wiped his face off with a napkin and looked across at her.

"Normal just depends on the person, like you said. Doesn't have to be the same for us. Unless you want it to be. I can make things normal that'll make those green cheeks of yours redder than a sun-baked Devaronian."

He grabbed the beer he'd ordered along with his food and took a swig. Burned on the way down just slightly. Probably a little bit more than just regular alcohol in that thing. Sure as heck made sense cuz he couldn't remember ever drinking a beer that burned like whiskey before and he'd drunk more beer than he had water in his life.

"But seriously, you picked a damn good spot. Even the beer is good."

He poked at a fry and frowned.

"Fries could be crispier, but I'll let that slide."

He went to pick up his burger again, but stopped and instead reached his hand over to set it on top of hers and he looked in her eyes and very seriously said, "Kess, the explosions you're gonna have later will make you rethink your entire life."

Then he grinned, grabbed his burger, and took another bite, and another as he worked on polishing it off.

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa was in the middle of another bite of her burger when he started talking.

The first part earned little more than a faint shake of her head. The second part earned a raised eyebrow. By the time he reached the comment about making her green cheeks turn redder than a sun-baked Devaronian, she set the burger down entirely. She studied him across the table with the expression of a seasoned investigator, attempting to determine whether he possessed any internal filter whatsoever.

The conclusion she arrived at was not especially encouraging.

"You know, most people at least attempt subtlety once," she noted, a heavy dose of amusement undermining any possibility that she was genuinely offended. "Just to see how it feels. I highly recommend it."

His sudden pivot to praising the diner's beer, however, earned a small, approving nod. At least the man had taste in local microbrews. She watched him poke at a limp fry with a frown.

"The fries have always been the weak link here," she said, sounding oddly authoritative on the subject. "I'm convinced they're legally required to undercook them. It builds character."

He went to pick up his burger again, but paused. Instead, his hand slid across the grease-stained table, settling firmly over hers.

Kessa glanced down at his fingers, then tracked her gaze back up to his eyes. The sudden, uncharacteristic seriousness in his expression was suspicious enough on its own. She braced herself as he delivered his next line with all the gravity of a high-ranking Imperial revealing a state secret: Kess, the explosions you're gonna have later will make you rethink your entire life.

She held his gaze for two full seconds, waiting for the punchline. Then he ruined his own dramatic mystique by flashing that ridiculous grin.

The laugh that escaped her was immediate, warm, and entirely unrestrained—the kind of sudden, genuine laugh that drew a curious glance from a couple of scrappers at a nearby table before she managed to pull herself together.

"Stars help me," she muttered, rubbing a hand briefly across her forehead while shaking her head, though the brilliant smile lingering on her face made it clear she wasn't actually complaining. "There was a terrifying moment there where I thought you were actually about to say something profound."

She didn't pull her hand out from under his. Instead, her thumb lightly brushed the side of his knuckles.

"And for the record, if your entire strategy is just overwhelming your targets through sheer persistence, I should warn you that I've out-stubborned entire corporate boards. You're entirely outmatched, Vanto."

Whether it was true remained debatable, but she delivered it with absolute confidence. She leaned back slightly, watching him effortlessly demolish the rest of his burger with an enthusiasm that was honestly impressive.

"You know..." she murmured, her voice dropping into a softer, more playful register. "Most people spend first dates trying to make themselves look respectable. Dignified. Professional."

A sharp, teasing smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as her gaze locked onto his.

"You, on the other hand, have spent most of this one defending ventilation systems, bragging about a blaster that's actively trying to blow you up, and somehow managing to promise me the best sex of my life with a completely straight face."

She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with genuine challenge.

"Strangely enough, Vanto...it's working a lot better than it has any right to."

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

"Subtlety isn't in my vocabulary," he said while continuing to poke at the fries.

He was still debating whether he actually wanted to eat them.

When she didn't pull her hand away, he left his resting against hers for a few moments longer than was probably reasonable. Somewhere in the diner, he was absolutely certain, there was a scrapper watching them and experiencing levels of jealousy previously thought impossible. A smoking hot Mirialan walks into a burger joint often enough and she's bound to collect admirers. That was just how the galaxy worked.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. His thumb brushed lightly against her hand before he finally withdrew it. Partly because he'd enjoyed it. Partly because he knew someone was watching and it would drive them insane.

When she said she'd thought he was about to become profound, he gasped and pressed a hand dramatically against his chest.

"Profound? Me? You wound me, Kess. Simple is much better than profound any day."

Why would anyone pretend to be something they weren't on a first date? That sounded exhausting. Honestly, it sounded like something a psychopath would do. Pretend to be one thing, lure somebody in, and then murder them once they'd let their guard down.

"Sounds a lot like pretending to be something you're not, which feels manipulative, don't you think?" He shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong, manipulating people for a job is absolutely something I'd do. But everywhere else? Sounds stressful."

A grin spread across his face.

"And rude."

Leaning back in the booth, he draped an arm across the seat and regarded her with obvious amusement.

"I only speak the truth. Except when I don't."

He pointed at her.

"But this time? I'm telling the truth."

The grin widened.

"You'll never forget tonight. Hell, I'll never forget tonight."

A wink followed.

"Mainly because of these burgers. They're incredible."

Oh yes. That one had been deliberate.

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa listened to him explain his philosophy on honesty, manipulation, and first dates while steadily working her way through her burger. By this point, she had completely given up trying to predict where any particular conversation with Rhyse was going to end. The dizzying journey from ventilation systems to morality to diner food had somehow felt perfectly natural to him, and the truly concerning part was that it was beginning to feel natural to her, too. His unexpected comment about the stress of pretending to be something you weren't earned a thoughtful look from her. There was far more truth in that observation than he probably realized; having spent years dealing with clients, criminals, and corporate executives who wore masks for a living, Kessa was used to untangling complex webs of deception. Rhyse, for all his ridiculousness, was refreshingly uncomplicated. He flirted when he felt like it, joked when he pleased, and shot people when they needed shooting.

Then came the finger point, the dramatic declaration, and the unmistakable wink. Kessa stared at him for several seconds, slowly and deliberately, as though she were conducting a serious background investigation on a highly suspicious subject. Finally, she set her burger down with an unhurried grace.

"You know what the worst part is?" she asked, the question entirely rhetorical as a faint smile threatened the corner of her mouth. "I can't actually tell whether you're incredibly charming or whether you've somehow weaponized sincerity. Most people would be utterly embarrassed to say half the things you've said tonight, yet you deliver them with the absolute confidence of someone reporting the weather."

The smile won completely then. It was not a sweeping one, but just enough to betray her defenses. Beneath the table, she was acutely aware of the lingering warmth of his leg pressed against hers, and her hand still tingled from where his thumb had brushed her skin moments ago. Internally, she had to admit the infuriating truth: she was incredibly attracted to him. It wasn't just his sharp looks or his easy confidence; it was the sheer, magnetic pull of someone who was completely comfortable in his own skin. Rather than voicing any of those dangerous thoughts, she took another bite of her burger, deciding that chewing was a much safer alternative to confessing. After swallowing, she pointed at him with a single, undercooked fry. "And before your ego gets any larger, don't mistake this for a total victory. I'm still evaluating the evidence. Though I will concede the burgers are helping your case."

Rhyse Vanto