Private No Easy Trust

[Rhyse Vanto]

"They would?" he asked, sounding genuinely incredulous. "Well, guess it pays not to be like most people."

Nah. Being boring like that just wasn't him. The best things in life were the real things. If he acted like somebody else, guarded every little part of himself, what good would that do? He didn't even know if his parents were still alive, and he wasn't particularly bothered by the fact. It wasn't as though someone could use them against him. The only thing he really cared about was what was right in front of him.

Chiefly his beer.

He grabbed it and polished it off before lifting the empty glass toward the barkeep and whistling for attention. They nodded, and he set the glass back down before looking at Kessa again.

"I don't see a reason to be anything other than who I am. Doesn't hurt anyone, and since I don't care what most people think of me," he added with a wink, "they can't really hurt me. Not with words, anyway. Had a few people get mad enough to physically hurt me, but I lived, so..."

He shrugged.

"I figure if you don't like me, then you don't like me and I move on with my life. If you do like me, well, fun things tend to happen. No reason to hide who I am."

A grin tugged at his lips.

"Most people find me funny, anyway. Doesn't hurt to make people laugh. Usually feels pretty good."

His fingers tapped lightly against the back of the booth as he watched her finish her burger. She was surprisingly dainty when she ate. It was almost funny, considering how capable she was of violence. The contrast made him shake his head.

"The burgers do make everything better."

His eyes flicked around the diner before returning to her.

"Probably gonna be a regular place for us in the future."

Yeah.

Us.

He'd said it.

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

His comment about making people laugh earned a quiet, thoughtful nod from Kessa.

"The galaxy could probably use more of that," she said. The words came easily, stripped of any irony or hidden jokes. The work they both did provided more than enough reminders of how ugly the galaxy could be when given half a chance; a little unfiltered honesty and laughter seemed a far better contribution than most.

She reached for her drink and took a slow sip, letting the rowdy symphony of the diner wash around them. Nearby, a pair of grease-stained scrappers were arguing over the salvage value of a hyperdrive manifold with the sort of intensity usually reserved for religion or politics. Somewhere toward the kitchens, a thick glass shattered against the floor, followed immediately by a chorus of groans and mocking laughter. The place felt alive in a way that the sterile upper worlds never did. It was untidy, imperfect, and entirely honest.

Rhyse fit right into it. There was no performance in him, no carefully constructed image designed to manipulate a reaction. He simply believed what he was saying. That alone made him a dangerous rarity in her line of work.

Then, he casually informed her that this would probably become a regular place for them.

The word settled between them so naturally that she almost missed it. Almost.

Her eyebrow rose in a slow, eloquent arc as she lowered her glass. She didn't sputter or choke: she just studied him across the table, looking for the catch. But there wasn't one. There was no awkward hesitation in his expression, no sign that he had carefully weighed the risk of sounding too forward. He had said it the same way he discussed ventilation systems, high-explosive blasters, and burger toppings. As though an "us" was the most mathematically obvious conclusion in the galaxy.

Most people treated the future like a high-stakes negotiation, carefully testing the ground before stepping onto it, leaving themselves room for a dignified retreat. Rhyse appeared entirely incapable of that kind of caution.

"That's a bold assumption," she observed. Her tone was dry, but it lacked any real sting.

Her fingers traced the condensation on the side of her glass as she considered him. By all rights, she should probably object. They had known each other for less than a standard day, thrown together by the chaotic gravity of a bounty hunt. Most partnerships in this business lasted precisely as long as it took the credits to clear a secure account, and most people weren't worth a second comm-call afterward.

Yet, she found herself remembering how smoothly they had moved through the shadows earlier. She had trusted him to watch her back, and he had done exactly that without making a grand production out of it.

"Though," she continued, a faint smile finally tugging at the corner of her mouth, "if we're measuring by the quality of the food, I've certainly worked with people less qualified than these burgers. And significantly less reliable."

The amusement lingered for another beat before softening into something quieter, grounded in her usual calm practicality. Her gaze held his, direct and unwavering.

"Most people in this business aren't worth a second contract. You might be."

There was no dramatic emphasis, no romantic weight intended. Kessa didn't hand out empty praise, and she trusted people rarely enough that she saw no reason to waste breath on a falsehood. It was just a straight, honest assessment—which, she suspected, was the exact language Rhyse understood best.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

"You're just playing hard to get because you're scared of the implications," he said with a knowing grin. "I get it. Especially in our line of work."

Maybe he was breaking his own rule about not being profound. But he was going to say it anyway.

"But I am what you see. And if you like what you see, then grab this burger and eat it."

There. A perfectly sincere sentiment immediately ruined by comparing himself to a burger. As was tradition.

The worst part was that he meant it completely. If she liked him, then she liked him. There wasn't some hidden layer waiting underneath. No grand revelation. No secret second personality. What you saw was what you got. Though if she wanted fries instead, that was her business. He certainly wasn't going to compare himself to fries. Too limp.

His eyes never left her. They wandered across the curve of her lips, the corners of her eyes, the way her nose flared whenever she was trying—and failing—not to laugh at something he'd said.

That alone felt good. Making people laugh always felt good. The alternative seemed miserable. Imagine going through life bitter at everything. No thanks.

"Either way," he said, leaning back in the booth, "I'm walking you back to your ship after this."

He tilted his head slightly.

"There are some seedy fellas in here who've been watching you."

A pause.

"Honestly, I can't blame them."

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa stared at him across the table for several seconds after the burger comparison. She wasn't offended, nor was she shocked; she was simply trying to decide whether comparing himself to a diner menu item was the stupidest thing she had ever heard or one of the most remarkably sincere things anyone had said to her in years. The truly irritating part was that she could not immediately decide.

"Your burger or mine?" The question arrived so quickly that it was obvious she had been waiting for the opening. A faint smile finally tugged at the corner of her mouth as she lifted her glass. "I feel like that's an important distinction."

The amusement lingered for a moment before softening into something quieter, a warmth she wasn't entirely prepared for. That was becoming a recurring problem with Rhyse. Every time he wrapped something genuine inside a ridiculous statement, her instincts bypassed the joke entirely and found the honest center. Most people in her line of work hid behind carefully constructed masks, but Rhyse chose to hide behind humor—and he never seemed interested in hiding very far.

Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than necessary before she shook her head, taking another sip of her drink to maintain her usual emotional distance. "And for somebody who claims not to be profound, you have a habit of accidentally stumbling into it," she observed with the dry certainty she normally reserved for tactical breakdowns. "I don't think you're nearly as clever about avoiding sincerity as you believe you are."

His comment about walking her back to the ship earned a slow lift of her eyebrow. She had already noticed the seedy characters watching them from the shadows of the diner; years of survival had made that secondary nature. What caught her off guard was the realization that Rhyse had been paying enough attention to notice them too—and that he was actively factoring her safety into his evening.

"There are always people watching," she said, her gaze drifting briefly toward the room before locking back onto him. "Most of them are harmless. The rest usually become somebody else's problem." The statement was entirely matter-of-fact, carrying the quiet threat of a veteran hunter, but the edge quickly melted back into a softer expression. "But if walking me back to my ship makes you feel better, I'll allow it. Besides, if this is going to become our regular place, it would be irresponsible not to make sure you can find your way back here."

The word our slipped out entirely unprompted. This time, she noticed it immediately, feeling the subtle pull of an attraction she was getting tired of fighting. Much to her own annoyance, she made absolutely no effort to take it back.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

He blinked, caught completely off guard by her question.

That was not something he had considered when he made the burger comparison.

"Uh..."

For perhaps the first time all evening, Rhyse Vanto did not immediately have an answer.

"Well, I guess I'm like my burger since I ordered what I like."

Brilliant.

A hard swallow followed, and suddenly his mouth felt incredibly dry. Fortunately, the serving droid chose that exact moment to arrive with his refill. He grabbed the beer and drank nearly half of it in one go. The alcohol hit him hard enough that his head swam briefly before settling back down.

Worth it.

The conversation soon shifted back toward his accidental moment of sincerity, and that familiar lopsided grin returned to his face.

"I am what I am. Guess sometimes I can be profound without even realizing it."

The statement sounded entirely too self-satisfied. Which was probably why he liked it. When she brought up the men in the diner again, he glanced around and made a face. She was probably right. Most of them were just looking.

They wanted her, sure, but wanting and doing were two very different things. Most didn't have the balls to try. The few who might have worked up the courage probably weren't interested in trying anything while she wasn't alone. They weren't him.

Well, most of them weren't. There might have been one or two who were just dumb enough. Still, with both of them visibly armed, nobody seemed eager to test their luck.

He finished off the rest of his drink and pushed himself to his feet. Stretching lazily, he made no effort whatsoever to hide the fact that both of his weapons were clearly visible.

"Shall we?"

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"This burger might rot if it keeps sitting around."

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa watched him struggle with the burger question and enjoyed a genuinely rare spectacle: Rhyse Vanto, completely rendered speechless. The brief silence lasted just long enough to be satisfying before he scrambled into his predictably absurd recovery. By then, her lips had already curved into a genuine smile. "An inspiring recovery," she murmured, her voice laced with all the dry amusement he deserved. "I was worried for a second there." She hadn't been, of course; she was already learning that if given enough time, Rhyse could charm or talk his way out of any corner, whether his logic made a lick of sense or not.

The rest of the meal vanished in a comfortable haze of clattering plates, rising diner chatter, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the food. As Kessa finished her burger and chased it with the last of her drink, she leaned back to watch him confidently demolish his beer. It felt strangely, beautifully normal, a completely unexpected middle ground between her solitary existence and his chaotic one. When he finally stood, lazily stretching and intentionally flashing enough heavy weaponry to make the local cutthroats think twice, she simply shook her head, the grin never leaving her face. "Lead the way," she said, gathering her jacket. "I'd hate to discover what happens if that burger sits around any longer."

Stepping out into the cool Bracca night, the easy banter trailed after them like a physical touch. The hyper-vigilant, practical part of her mind tried to raise its usual flags, reminding her they had known each other for less than a standard day, that he was reckless, and that she always worked alone. But as they fell into an easy, synchronized step together, those old, cynical defenses felt incredibly thin and entirely unwelcome. The evening had completely shifted from a successful, professional contract into something entirely different, blurring the lines she usually kept so rigidly defined.

There was no use pretending or fighting it anymore. She knew exactly how this night was going to end, and for once, her careful self-preservation was entirely missing in action. Looking at the lopsided grin on his face beneath the dim streetlights, she felt a deeper, undeniable anticipation take hold. They weren't just going back to her ship for a polite goodbye; they were going back to lose themselves in each other, to burn away the grime of this scrap-heap world in the heat of a shared bed. She already knew she was going to give him her private frequency, and she knew with absolute certainty she'd be waiting for it to light up.

It was a profound yielding of control that really should have panicked a seasoned hunter like her. Instead, it brought a quiet, deeply content sigh as she let her shoulder brush against his. If she had been a betting woman, she would have placed all her credits on keeping her distance, and she would have lost the entire purse hours ago. But watching him walk beside her, wrapped in his effortless charm and absolute honesty, Kessa realized she didn't mind losing the wager one bit.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

They left the diner behind and stepped back into the darkness.

In the distance came the familiar sounds of Bracca at work. Torches cutting through metal. Machinery groaning. Ships being dismantled piece by piece. It blended into a constant background hum that he had long since learned to tolerate. What he didn't like were the shadows. Too many places to hide. Too many places to watch from.

Maybe he really should replace an eye with a cybernetic someday. Something with infrared or night vision. It would certainly come in handy for their line of work. Then again, the idea of anyone messing around near his eyes made his skin crawl.

The walk was quieter than the dinner had been. Not uncomfortable. Just different. For once, Rhyse found himself content to simply walk beside someone. That should have been a good sign. Instead, it made him uneasy. Something felt off.

He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing. No movement. No obvious tail. Still, the feeling remained.

A frown settled onto his face as he casually swept his jacket back behind the grip of Riot. Instinct. Experience. Whatever it was, he trusted it enough not to ignore it.

Then her ship came into view.

And suddenly he knew.

The first blaster shots rang out.

His hand closed around Kessa's arm and he shoved her toward the nearest alley, grunting as they stumbled into cover. He pinned himself against the wall beside her and leaned out just far enough to look.

More shots.

He ducked back immediately.

"I really hate Kanjiklub," he muttered. "I swear it's always them."

A sharp pain pulsed through his leg. Looking down, he found a scorch mark burned into his thigh. His expression soured.

"Well, that was a little too close for comfort."

Another glance. Another wince.

"Almost feels personal."

Riot was already in his hand. He stuck the blaster around the corner and fired several quick shots downrange. Whether they hit anything was irrelevant. The point was to keep heads down and attention focused in the wrong direction.

Then he looked at her. Really looked at her. The easy grin was gone. The jokes were gone. What remained was the version of Rhyse that showed up when people started shooting. Calm. Focused. Certain.

"You need to get to your ship and get out of here," he said. "Take your cargo, finish the job, then meet me at the old Imperial base on Lok."

Another burst of fire cracked overhead.

"I'll keep them focused on me."

His expression made it clear he wasn't interested in debating the point.

Before she could argue, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Quick.

Hungry.

Certain.

Then he pulled back and gently nudged her toward the far end of the alley.

"Go."

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

The kiss caught her completely off guard, not because she hadn't seen it coming eventually, but because she had expected "eventually" to involve considerably less blasterfire. For a fraction of a second, her mind simply stopped. Then training, experience, and survival instincts reasserted themselves all at once, forcing a breathless, disbelieving complaint past her lips as another volley of blasterfire shattered against the wall above their heads, showering the alley with sparks and molten fragments.

"Oh, now you decide to be subtle."

Kessa was already moving. One hand disappeared beneath her jacket and emerged holding a small cylindrical flash grenade, the exact sort of non-explosive crowd control that sensible people hated and bounty hunters loved. Her thumb armed it as she leaned around the corner just enough to judge the angle.

"Cover your eyes."

There was no time for explanation or debate. She hurled the device toward the source of the incoming fire, watching it bounce twice before detonating into a newborn star of blinding white light. The flash turned the dark Bracca junkyard into daylight for a fraction of a second, instantly triggering a chorus of panicked shouts, curses, and blind stumbling from the Kanjiklub gunmen.

"That should make them miserable for a minute."

The corner of her mouth twitched with grim satisfaction.

Turning back to Rhyse, she really looked at him. The easy jokes were gone, replaced by a calm focus and a terrifyingly effortless willingness to put himself between danger and someone else. It was annoyingly heroic, annoyingly attractive, and entirely him. For half a second, she considered arguing his plan to split up, but standing around while blinded thugs recovered their bearings was objectively stupid. Malachar and the contract mattered, and so did keeping them both alive.

"Fine."

The word came reluctantly.

"But if you get yourself killed after all that talk about future explosions, I'm going to be extremely irritated."

Another burst of shouting rose from the street as the blinded gunmen attempted to recover.

Kessa started backing toward the far end of the alley. Then she stopped just long enough to point a stern finger at him, her tone somehow managing to sound both strictly practical and deeply personal.

"And I still want your contact information!"

A faint smile appeared.

"Don't make me hunt you down."

The warning carried considerably less threat than usual.

Then she turned and ran toward her ship. Not away from him, but toward the contract, toward the future meeting both of them had apparently decided was happening whether the galaxy approved or not. Behind her, blasterfire resumed as Rhyse drew their attention, but ahead of her, the ship waited.

For the first time in a very long while, Kessa found herself genuinely looking forward to what came next.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

He grinned at her.

"Ain't nobody killing me, Kess. I'm too good to die."

Of course, he'd looked away when she tossed the flashbang. Effective little things. Handy too. It bought them a few precious seconds for her to argue, threaten him, and make it very clear she wasn't happy about what was happening. She never actually said it. She didn't need to. He could see it in the way she looked at him. Hear it in her voice.

He waved her onward.

"You'll get it, trust me. Just go where I said after you drop off Malachar. I'll be there waiting for you."

A wink accompanied the promise.

Then he turned back toward the corner, and the grin faded. The easygoing attitude vanished with it.

Taking a steadying breath, he leaned out far enough to get a proper sight picture and squeezed off several shots toward the still-disoriented goons. One of them dropped immediately. Good. That improved his mood.

The stupid bastards had interrupted what had been shaping up to be a very good night, and he was more than a little annoyed about it.

"Alright, you stupid assholes!" he shouted around the corner. "Come and get me if you dare!"

The goal was simple. Keep their attention. Buy her time. Once her ship was in the air, he could worry about himself. Hopefully there were some bacta patches back aboard his ship. He honestly couldn't remember.

That felt like the sort of thing he probably should have remembered.

Kessa Vex

 

[Kessa Vex]

Kessa hated every second of it. Not the frantic sprinting or the frantic gunfire, and not even the fact that Kanjiklub had somehow managed to ruin what had otherwise been shaping up to be a spectacular evening. What she truly hated was leaving him behind. The practical, professional part of her mind understood its flawless logic: Malachar was secured, the contract required leaving Bracca, and splitting up mathematically improved both of their chances of survival. Every cold calculation pointed toward the exact same conclusion, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Blasterfire echoed sharply through the scrapyard streets as she sprinted toward her ship, her chest tightening as a distant, distinct burst from Riot cut through the air, followed by a volley of disorganized return shots. Still alive. Good. He had better stay that way, because if he went and died after all that charming bravado, she was going to hunt his ghost down and kill him again. Reaching the hangar, she crossed the lowering ramp at a full run and threw herself straight into the pilot's seat, the familiar hum of the engines surging to life around her as power flooded the deck plating. A quick glance at the monitor confirmed Malachar was still locked tightly in his containment cell, while a second glance at the tactical sensors confirmed Rhyse was still down there, stubbornly holding the line.

"Idiot," she muttered to the empty cockpit, the fond warmth in her voice completely undermining the insult.

Pulling back on the throttles, she lifted the ship from the ground, sending a hurricane of dust, loose scrap, and discarded metal swirling beneath the thrusters. Most sensible people would have immediately punched it into the upper atmosphere, but Kessa had never quite managed to be sensible when a certain reckless, winking bounty hunter was involved. Banking sharply, she swung the nose of the ship back around and watched the targeting display light up over the alleyway. Several Kanjiklub gunmen were advancing on his position, entirely oblivious to the small warship hovering directly above their heads. It was a tactical oversight that lasted exactly three seconds.

"Let's improve the odds a bit, shall we?"

Her fingers danced across the weapon controls. The ship's light laser cannons erupted with fierce crimson fire, chewing into the street directly ahead of the advancing thugs. The sudden barrage pulverized a massive stack of junked plating, showering the area in a spectacular geyser of sparks, flying debris, and utterly terrified criminals scrambling blindly for cover. The careful, intimidating advance dissolved into absolute, beautiful chaos in the blink of an eye.

A genuine smile broke through her anxiety as she leveled the ship off for one final, unnecessarily dramatic pass.

"You're welcome, Rhyse."

She murmured the words while raining down just enough suppressing fire to turn the alleyway into a logistical nightmare for anyone trying to follow him. Satisfied that she had made pursuit thoroughly impossible, she angled the vessel toward the open sky.

Lok and the payout could wait a few extra minutes. Ensuring a certain beautiful idiot actually survived to claim his share of the credits and hand over his contact information mattered infinitely more. Besides, if he somehow beat her to the drop point without her getting the last word, she knew she would never hear the end of it.

Rhyse Vanto

 

[Rhyse Vanto]

Riot barked.

They shot back.

Riot barked again.

Several of them went down, but there always seemed to be more. If he had to guess, some Imperial idiot had hired Kanjiklub to grab Malachar. They'd shown up, discovered someone had beaten them to it, traced things back to Kessa's ship, and waited.

They couldn't get inside thanks to the ship's defenses. Unfortunately for them, that meant they got a giant dose of Rhyse Vanto instead.

"Yeah, eat dick, Kanji losers!" he shouted as Kessa's ship began to power up.

That was what he'd been waiting for. Once she got airborne, she'd be gone. Fast enough that Kanjiklub wasn't going to catch her. She'd drop off the mark, then head for Lok. Hopefully.

That just left him with the small matter of not getting shot to death.

A few more rounds went downrange before he turned and started hobbling deeper into the alley. Even with the burn in his leg, he could still move pretty quickly when motivated. Pain was mostly a suggestion anyway. Though being slower than a human still annoyed him.

Behind him, Kanjiklub started to push forward. That lasted all of three seconds. Kessa's ship roared overhead and suddenly everyone became very interested in not standing in the open.

"Damn, Kess," he muttered. "Don't blow up the city. I wanna come back for burgers sometime."

He didn't slow down to watch. Didn't look back. Just kept moving toward the opposite side of the city where his own ship was waiting.

Time to go.

Kessa Vex