Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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One Scoundrel to Another

Dyll had been spending a lot of time on Nar Shaddaa lately. Like much of the population, it wasn't by choice.

Different reason, though; he wasn't one of the penniless transients stuck deep below the glitzy lights of the upper sectors. To them he would've seemed positively rich. He had a starship of his own, a blaster at his side, enough to eat on most days; technically, he could go anywhere in the galaxy he chose. Technically. The reality was that the starship was always breaking down, the blaster was secondhand, and if he wanted to keep flying he had to follow the jobs. And it seemed like all smuggling flowed through the Vertical City at some point.

Spice, guns, slaves; the Hutts had their thick, grubby fingers in many pies, and Dyll didn't have much choice but to follow the pulse of their criminal empire if he wanted to keep paying his bills. So here he was once again on the Smuggler's Moon, waiting for his contact to drop off the datapad that would have details on his next cargo. But he knew he might be waiting on the guy a long time; Klaad was a shifty, fidgety Quarren who made his schedule up as he went along, and punctual simply wasn't in his vocabulary. There was no telling when he'd show.

If he even did; Dyll had gotten himself in trouble the last time he was on Nar Shaddaa, and the lasting consequences were starting to show. He'd tried to rescue a teenage slave girl and, in so doing, both pissed off the slaver cartel holding her and gained a reputation for having a conscience. In his business, that was a bad thing. People with consciences weren't considered reliable; most things that had to be moved illegally were things that would hurt people at some point, and no one wanted to get their cargo dumped or impounded by a captain with a heart of gold.

He would just have to hope that not everyone had given up on him just yet. He'd smuggled for three years now; surely one well-intentioned error wouldn't wipe out all the street cred he'd built up in that time. So he sat in the seedy little cantina known as the Hair Trigger, trying not to choke on the thick, overly-sweet Rekka smoke that suffused the place and pissing off the bartender by not ordering anything. He wasn't dumb enough to wish for excitement no matter how bored he got, not in a place like Nar Shaddaa, but he had a feeling it just might find him anyway.

@[member=Eliza Steele]
 
The Corellian Rose (retired)
@[member="Dyllaefi Cridu"]

The trip from Corellia to Nar Shaddaa had not been a particularly nice one for Eliza Steele. For one, the petite smuggler was used to proudly flying the Corellian Dawn, and two, riding in steerage on a public transport ship was anything but comfortable nor respectable. Recent life changing events had put the Corellisi in a precarious position. With her father now sitting idle on Kessel doing five on trumped up charges and their family owned ship impounded by CorSec, Eliza had been forced to take outside work with hopes of quickly earning enough credits to get their ship, a YT-1930 Light Freighter, out of hock before the ol' girl was auctioned off.



Having answered an advertisement for a crew member position for a new "transport" business, the young Steele had traveled to the Smuggler's Moon to hook up with the ship. The brunette wasn't supposed to report for twelve hours so she decided to kill some time and relax a bit before shipping out for who knows how long and where to. It would be the first time out on her own without Remy Steele by her side, not that she needed her "daddy" to hold her hand. Quite the opposite, it just would be weird doing so. They'd been smuggling partners for most of her twenty-five standard years as Eliza had grown up on the Corellian Dawn being raised by her father alone after the death of her mother.

Leaving her personal gear in a rental locker, Eliza left the main spaceport and made her way out into the craziness of the vertical city. Dressed in her usual spacer attire with her trusty DL-44 Heavy blaster pistol slung visibly low on her shapely right hip, the dark-eyed brunette confidently strolled into the Hair Trigger Cantina noting the usual scum and villainy that populated establishments like this. The petite smuggler walked up to the bar and ordered a Twistler, then sat down with it at a corner table, propping her booted feet up on an adjacent chair.

As she sipped slowly on the fruity alcoholic drink favored by Corellians, her comlink went off. Eliza answered the call and listened intendedly for a few moments, then dark eyes flashed dangerously as her booted feet came down with a thud from the chair and her fist pounded on the table top, spilling some of the fruity red liquid down the side of the chilled drink glass.

"What do you mean you've found someone else for the job?! I'm already committed. You can't do that to me. I really need the credits. I was counting on it…. Yeah, thanks a lot., mister. You know what you can do with that? You can stick it where the sun don't shine for all I care!" she replied heatedly, then shut down the comm in a huff.

Eliza put her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands, rubbing at her temples trying to calm her self down and sooth the headache that was building. What was she going to do now? The young smuggler had spent her last few credits getting herself to this Force forsaken place. Eliza hated the prospect of looking for another job. Ones paying as much as the one that got away didn't just grow on trees everyday.
 
Another few minutes and still no sign of Klaad. That figured. Dyll sighed.

On the one hand, he really didn't have time for this; every minute he wasn't earning credits, his creditors were closing in on him. On the other, he didn't really have any option but to wait; he didn't have any jobs lined up, and wouldn't until someone (hopefully Klaad) offered one. It was the worst of both worlds, but there was nothing he could do about it. Idly he wondered how long he should wait before giving up; the combination of Klaad's unpredictable schedule and the fact that he might not be coming at all left the smuggler in a very awkward position.

Just then, a commotion at one of the corner tables caught his eye. Normally the Hair Trigger was loud and frantic enough that he wouldn't even have noticed, but it was unusually quiet and subdued that day; it probably boded trouble, he mused, resolving to stay alert even more than usual. A young woman, probably around his own age, sat at the table in question, looking upset. He caught only snatches of her conversation, but enough to get a general idea of what had happened to her. He winced on her behalf; he'd been in that situation all too many times. Nothing he could do, though.

Or maybe there was. Though some part of him shouted not to get involved, given where going out of his way had gotten him in the past few standard weeks, another part pointed out that she might know about a job he didn't. And maybe, just maybe, Klaad would feel more comfortable finding jobs for Dyll if he had a partner, someone the underworld didn't distrust at the moment. He had nothing to lose, just time to burn; at worst he'd have a little conversation but gain nothing, which was still better than sitting around waiting for that kriffing erratic Quarren.

Swinging his feet over the bar stool, Dyll made his way over to the woman's table, a sympathetic half-smile on his face. "Sorry to eavesdrop," he began, carefully keeping his eyes on her face rather than letting them dip to the shapely form below, "but I've been where you are, an' it's kriffing rotten. Care to share a drink and commiserate?" He'd never been much of a pickup artist, and though he was quite the accomplished liar he kept his words simple, his tone genuine. The young woman seemed like an honest, straightforward sort, and he didn't want to offend her.

@[member=Eliza Steele]
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk checked the holovid again to ensure he knew the what the suspect looked like. He gave a grim nod, and double checked his pistol was well hidden beneath his jacket. No need to advertise he had Republic military or law enforcement ties. Not in this rathole. It was a good way to get shot in the back. He glanced up at the signs along the street. The Hair Trigger. No doubt there'd be a few in there. He ducked inside, and glanced around the inside.
There he was, talking to a young Corellian woman. He gave a barely discernible smile. Excellent. He strode over to the bar, and ordered a drink. He glanced up at monitors, checking for anything that might indicate trouble. Cantinas weren't typically this...quiet. It gave him a bad feeling about the whole thing. He grabbed his drink and took a seat over by the wall, leaning back in his chair, and watching the sports game on the monitors.
 
The Corellian Rose (retired)
@[member="Dyllaefi Cridu"] @Dirk Ellerden

Eliza slowly raised her head up and turned it towards the person speaking. The Corellisi's left hand dropped casually to the top of the table while her right hand slid under the table to her holstered DL-44 tied off to her right thigh. She'd seen the brown haired man about her age sitting at the bar earlier, but hadn't really paid too much attention to him… that is until now. At least the pale guy's blue eyes were looking in the right place. The young brunette would give him that.

"Suit yourself. But I warn you, I don't like to share," Steele replied, motioning with her hand to the adjacent chair her booted feet had been on earlier "So what's your name, stranger" the dark-eyed woman asked not realizing the whole time they were being watched. She wiped the spillage off the side of her drink with a cocktail napkin, then took a long swig.
 
Dyll wasn't surprised that the fem was cautious; he would be too if someone he didn't know had walked over and starting chatting him up in this dive. In places like this it paid to assume that everyone was looking for an easy mark. The smuggler kept his movements slow and casual, his hands out in plain view; he had no particular desire to get fried during a botched attempt at being friendly. Offering her a rueful little grin, he took the seat she'd offered him. "S'fine with me. Just meant it as a figure of speech." He didn't drink anyway; too poor and too busy. "Name's Dyll, Dyll Cridu."

Leaning back in his chair, he took a long, catlike stretch, arching his back and popping vertebrae that'd been hunched over a starship console for far too long lately. As he did he stared around the room, taking in its occupants with a single long glance. A Gran and a Weequay playing Dejarik, a trio of Rodians talking in low voices in one of the booths, the Nikto bouncer ejecting a drunk Chiss, and a tanned, dark-haired Human male getting a drink from the Toydarian barkeep. He had a feeling that several of them were watching him, some more intently that others. That might be trouble.

Nothing to do until they made a move, though; no use being overly paranoid. "I'm a freighter captain," he told the young woman, managing to resist the urge to put his boots up on the table. "Work's been a little tight lately, but it shouldn't be too long before I get another cargo and haul jets out of here. That's what I'm hoping, anyway. Can't say I love Nar Shaddaa." Understatement of the year; he'd never, ever come here if it weren't a central hub for his trade. He didn't think much of the attractions it offered and he got no thrill from extra danger. "What about you?"

@[member=Eliza Steele] @[member=Dirk Ellerden]
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk gave a slight nod as Dyll glanced his way, and then took his drink to a seat and leaned back, just resting now. This was the easy part of the job. A stakeout, essentially. As long as he could catch Dyll before he left, it would go well. Unless Dyll decided to pull the trigger and start a gunfight. Wouldn't exactly put it past him. People did get a little trigger happy when Sector Rangers were around for some reason. He gave a wry smile at that as he stared into his drink before taking a long, slow drink. He leaned back in satisfaction.
The job wasn't that bad actually, despite the not completely uncommon blaster bolt streaking by, far too close for comfort. Lots of travel opportunities. Meet all sorts of interesting folk. It could definitely be worse. It could be better too, to be completely honest. Not much else he could do, actually. Take it or leave it, apparently. He pulled out his datapad and started sifting through any messages that had arrived lately. Or for any new warrants issued for folk last seen in the sector. It didn't seem like anyone else in the cantina had a record of anything useful. That Correllian might though, assuming she could pilot well.
@[member="Dyllaefi Cridu"] @[member="Eliza Steele"]
 
The Corellian Rose (retired)
@Eliza Steele @Dirk Ellerden

"Steele, Eliza Steele," the petite smuggler answered back with a semi-friendly nod, still not quite sure of the man's true intentions though he seemed sincere enough, so far. "Nice to meet a fellow freighter captain," the brunette said flashing a lop-sided grin his way before taking another sip of her fruity Corellian drink.

"Nar Shaddaa is not my favorite idling spot of the galaxy either. Would much rather be sailing the seven seas with the cargo hold full of treasure. I'm lookin' for work myself, though my ship is out of commission currently. Know of anyone needing a second?" the dark-eyed Corellisi asked, then gazed around the bar again, taking note of an older man checking them out. It hadn't been the first time either.

"Say… Do you know that grizzled lookin' fella sitting at your ten o'clock. He seems to be interested in this table, and more so your chair."
 
"It's a pleasure," Dyll said, matching Eliza's grin as he got a name to put to her face. Then she mentioned her ship troubles. "Tough break," he said, wincing. He would've been totally hosed if Fate's Fool ever gave up the ghost completely, and the old ship had been perilously close several times lately. "I'd love to help you find a berth, but I've been kinda... cut out of the smugglers' scuttlebutt lately, so I can't tell you much about who's looking for what. Made a... mistake, and people are still working on trusting me again. But if I do hear anything..."

He trailed off, deep in thought. "You know, I generally fly alone; I've got my navicomputer automated and everything, and I don't need a gunner 'cause I'd rather run than fight things out. But with a good copilot I bet I could cut some solid time off of some of my jobs. Could be a chance for you to stay in the game 'till you get your bird back, if you're interested." On the one hand, he'd have to cut her in on his profits, which were already strained. On the other, she'd make everything easier, and he'd be able to make profits more often. Plus, he liked to help where he could.

At Eliza's warning, he turned his head slightly, watching the man she'd indicated in his peripheral vision. It was the human he'd seen getting a drink before, now sitting at a table against one of the walls. Thirties, with the build of someone who was active and combat-trained. Brave enough to sift through a datapad in the kind of place where someone might try to kill you for anything of value. Well, that didn't tell him druk. He could be a slaver thug, a bounty hunter, a particularly bold lawman; there was no way to know. Dyll turned back to Eliza.

"I make friends wherever I go," he said with a mirthless grin. "I should warn you before you think too hard about my offer: I'm a long way from a saint. I've done things to survive that'd make cultured folk weep to hear of 'em, and if it comes down to it I'll do them again. I'll do my part for the galaxy when it doesn't cost me anything, but I can't afford to go out of my way to help. That's the way it works down here, and the people who keep their hands clean up top don't understand. So I've got enemies. They spend most of their time eating my dust, but they're there."

He offered her a nonchalant shrug. "Just in the interest of full disclosure. I don't wanna to drag you into something unprepared."

@[member=Eliza Steele] @[member=Dirk Ellerden]
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk glanced up from his table, and gives the two a wry, but friendly smile, noticing their attention looking his way. He looked back down at his datapad, and made a few notes, thinking. Perhaps this was not such a plan after all. But he had a reputation for having a conscience, which was exactly what he needed. The credits would certainly help the cause. Problem would be convincing him. Dirk wasn't entirely he sure wanted this new person involved. It was risky enough already.
 
The Corellian Rose (retired)
"Ah, I see… Well, I'll take that all under advisement as I consider your offer," Steele nodded, then downed the rest of her Twistler with most of the alcohol in that last sip. She licked her lips of the fruity taste, then put the glass down on the table top. The Corellian had a bad feeling about all this, but right now she was down to her last credit so weighing everything would take some thought.

"Tell you what, Dyll. I'm gonna go powder my nose. If you're still here in one piece when I come back, we can talk particulars," the petite smuggler grinned, then pushed back from the table.

As the dark haired Corellisi swaggered past the grizzled fella who'd been watching them on her way to the ladies fresher, she flashed the man a courtesy smile. Yep, bad feelin'.

@Dyllaefi Cridu @Dirk Ellerden
 
Dyll wasn't much of a ladies' man, rather the opposite of the dashing smuggler in the holovids who had a girl in every port. He'd almost been married once, set back only by the spectacular streak of bad luck that had thrown him headfirst into the criminal underworld three years earlier. He had no doubt that, if he'd managed to say his vows to Talyn Tarn as planned, he would've been faithful to her in thought and in deed for the rest of his life. He didn't ogle fems because he wouldn't appreciate it if he got the same treatment in their position. His parents had raised him for chivalry, and he tried to stick to it.

He couldn't possibly deny, however, that he found Steele extremely attractive. Even when he'd been in university, just a nerd with his pimply face buried in archaeology dataslates, he'd had a thing for rough, vibrant, competent women like her. Watching her throw back her alcohol in a way that would've made him choke on the fumes, lick her lips like she didn't care who was watching or what they thought, sway across the room with a confidence that he couldn't match on his best day while she was without a ship and probably even a credit to her name; she was something else, and he was impressed.

So he did what he always did: he fell back on survival mode and asked himself the two questions he always had to ask. First, was he letting something lower down than his brain do his thinking? Second, was his desire to help getting in the way of his ability to get by? He thought about it for a moment. If he was going to take Steele on (assuming he hadn't scared her off with his unfortunately candid description of his activities), what exactly was it going to mean for him? Rationally he had no illusions that she would be remotely interested in him, and it was safer if she wasn't, but he had to make sure he fully accepted that.

Eventually he decided his logic was sound. Steele could be his coworker if she wanted; he wouldn't expect more than that. She could be his friend if she wanted; he wouldn't hope for more than that. They might make some money together until she got her ship back from whatever trouble it'd landed in and then part ways, or they might part ways in that very bar as she moved on to find work with someone less scuzzy than him. That was the way the galaxy worked, and he wasn't expecting any special treatment; he'd used up all of his good luck on a wonderful childhood, and that was just the way the flatbread crumbled.

It didn't pay to be lost in thought too long in this kind of place. Dyll jerked himself back to reality, keeping his eyes open. It was still way too quiet...

@[member=Eliza Steele] @[member=Dirk Ellerden]
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk raised his glass in a half-salute and a polite, but no more than that, smile as she walked past. He another small drink from his glass, and returned to looking at the datapad until she'd gone. He glanced up again and slipped the datapad into his coat and drained the glass before setting it back down. He double checked his coat pockets, ensuring everything was safe, before glancing around once more. He stood and strode over to Dyll, boots clomping on the floor. Here goes nothing. He rested one hand on the table, but kept the other one ready.
"You are Captain Dyll Cridu, correct?" Always good to start with their name, just to prevent blowing cover. Old habit for the most part. It's been a while since he worked truly undercover. He'd gotten a tad too recognizable. It had a good side though. He never got his many aliases confused. Might need to resurrect a few of them soon though.
@[member="Dyllaefi Cridu"] @[member="Eliza Steele"]
 
Dyll watched as the man who'd been watching him strode over to his table, his face calm but his pulse racing. Here it came, the wrench in the works, the rotten luck that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Trouble here was sure to drive Steele off, for better or for worse. But he had to look out for number one, and if that meant shooting one more guy in a dive bar, he was ready to take care of it. The man addressed him by name, long and formal. "I have friends who call me that," the smuggler coolly replied, resting his hand on the grip of his blaster beneath the table, "along with some people I don't much care to talk to. And I don't think we've met."

Every time he entered somewhere new, he mapped it in his mind. It was a habit he'd gotten into over the first year of his smuggling career after way, way too many near misses in places like this. So he knew where the booths were and how much cover they provided, which tables would shield his whole body if he tipped them over, how many steps to each exit, the works. He had no intention of starting any trouble; he didn't need to get a reputation as a hothead, too. But trouble had a way of finding people in his line of work, especially people who were off their game. He'd have to be extra careful. "Either way, that seat's taken."

"If you've got something to tell me, say your piece before my friend gets back." He was way too on edge for pleasantries.

@[member=Dirk Ellerden] @[member=Eliza Steele]
 
The Corellian Rose (retired)
Eliza didn't have to use the fresher, but it was a good excuse to get away so the smuggler could think about the options that lay before her without being pressured one way or another. The problem was the Corellian really didn't have any other options open to her as the "Help Wanted" board was bare pickings at the moment, and that was just it, she didn't have a moment to spare. Time was credits as they say. So her mind was made up… She'd hold her nose regarding Cridu's past indiscretions and sign on for one run, then play it from there. It wasn't like the guy was a totally scruffy looking scoundrel… No, Dyll seemingly had a nice personality that kinda grew on you, which was refreshing actually. Way better than some of the cocky nerherders that the elder Steele associated with and tried to hit on her.

After washing her hands and giving them a quick dry on her trousers, Steele headed back towards the bar area noting that there was an emergency exit just past where she'd come from. Always good to know your entry and exit points just in case something comes up, or goes down. As she rounded the corner, the petite brunette immediately noticed the grizzled fella had moved from his previous spot against the wall to standing next to Dyll at the table, and they were having a conversation of sorts. From the tense look on the freighter captain's face, they weren't going to be lovers anytime soon either, which she found oddly a good thing. The Corellisi pondered what to do next; should she intervene or stay out of it? For now, Eliza held back to see where this was going, staying in the shadow of the hallway with a good view of the growing situation.

@Dyllaefi Cridu @Dirk Ellerden
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk nodded. He slipped his id from his wallet, which identified him and his rank. "Drik Ellerden, Special Enforcement Officer, here with permission and invitation from the Hutts." He leaned forward, ensuring his hands were clear and in the open. No need to make him trigger-happy. That was the last thing he needed. "I'm in need of a pilot I can trust. You've got yourself a reputation for a conscience." He pauses, to glance around, making sure nobody would shoot him in the back. "In exchange, I'm authorized to pay up to 40,000 credits." Much higher than usual, but it was a high-stakes, sensitive infiltration. "And a chance to cripple the cartel whose got you on their bad side." He stepped back and straightened, heart rate increasing slightly.
A lot depended on this mission. They were on the verge of a major breakthrough in the operation. Maybe even enough to topple the whole blasted cartel. The thought gave him a great deal of pleasure, though he didn't show it. Or the slight anticipation. He jerked his head towards his seat. "I'll let you mull over it. Mayhaps your friend would care to join if she's as good a pilot as most Corellians. Twenty thousand each is still quite a bit."
@[member="Eliza Steele"] @[member="Dyllaefi Cridu"]
 
"You're well-informed, Officer," Dyll said, buying himself time to process what Ellerden had said. His hand stayed on his blaster, but relaxed a little as he mulled it all over. So his reputation had reached the Sector Rangers; he'd expected that it would at some point, but he hadn't expected it to earn him any favors. Saving one slave girl hardly made up for his crimes; he was sure that, if he'd cared to make a list, it would include hundreds of them, many severe. But this guy wasn't trying to bring him in. He'd gone to all the work of finding Dyll in a truly nasty dive, a place where a lot of people would kill him on principle if they knew who he was, and he wasn't trying to bring him in.

Maybe it was a setup; if Ellerden was smart enough to track him down there, the officer would know that it'd be a kriffing foolish idea to try to arrest him inside the Hair Trigger. If the Sector Rangers knew his newly-earned reputation, they probably also knew that it was making him desperate, eager to jump on any job that came his way and thus easy to lure somewhere safer. But if that was the plan, why the druk had Ellerden told him he was with Special Enforcement? It would've made far more sense to approach him undercover, offering a job while pretending to be an infochant or a crime lord's runner. So maybe the lawman was sincere. It was crazy, but maybe.

What the kriff did the Sector Rangers want to hire him for, though? There were scores of better pilots without criminal records. He dismissed the idea that they were leveraging his criminal record against him in order to get away with paying him less; even twenty thousand was way more than he made on most runs. And he had to admit, kicking the Thalassians in the gonads would feel pretty good right then. They were vindictive types, people whose good graces he would never regain, and they also happened to be some of the galaxy's lowest scum in his humble opinion. Mixing business and grudges was dangerous, he knew, but this was his only offer anyway. Might as well roll with it.

"You've got my interest. Don't go far; I'll talk to my friend. And try to keep a lid on what you're doing here; these scum'll try to take you apart if they find out who you are." Honestly, it felt good. Really, really good. He felt the excitement of employment, of a chance to blast off and dance among stars where he belonged, surge up in his veins. And it was even legit, or at least seemed to be. Steele had seemed a little put off by his admission of what he'd done, but she had no reason he could see to argue with a job for the Sector Rangers. A chance for good company and credits in the bank; kriff Klaad and his erratic schedule, this day was looking up after all.

Spotting Steele standing near the entrance to the 'freshers, the smuggler waved her over with a wide grin, his hand slipping off of his blaster pistol. "Well, I've got good news; I just got an offer, and it's even legit. It pays forty thou', and I'll split it down the middle if you want in." He was practically giddy, his smile stretching ear to ear. The promise of payment and a chance to soar free; that was the most he ever asked of life, since with his luck it was the best he ever got, and here it was again. "My prospects are looking a little sparse right now, so I'm taking it. It'd be a pleasure to have you along. Otherwise, it was good to meet you, and no hard feelings."

He had quite forgotten the bar's quiet menace, his eyes dancing, the edge to his voice and his gaze wiped away. He'd even forgotten to haggle.

@[member=Eliza Steele] @[member=Dirk Ellerden]
 

Dirk Ellerden

Guest
D
Dirk gave a slight nod at the comment. It was job to be informed. Then act on it. But mainly to be informed. He gave a half-smile.
"Like to see 'em try."
They might rip him apart. Until they learned he was also working for the Hutts on a high priority job. Not something he'd usually do, but it worked this time. The Republic caught some criminals that had become a nuisance, and the Hutts rubbed out some competition. Everyone walked away happy. Except the cartel members. They walked away in binders to a long, long time in prison. He walked back to his seat, kicking back one he had sat down.
He tapped his hand on the table, keeping an eye on the door. Maybe that tail would realize Dirk had slipped away in the parts shop by now. Or maybe not. Wasn't exactly like the tail seemed to be overly intelligent. Or skilled. Thuggish was probably the better word. Very, very thuggish. Odd. Not generally the type for tailing. He gave a slight shrug in his seat, and glanced around, quite suspicious suddenly. He just had a really bad feeling about this.
@[member="Dyllaefi Cridu"] @[member="Eliza Steele"]
 
The Corellian Rose (retired)
After seeing Cridu relax a bit, Steele let the breath out she didn't know she was holding and her fingers let go of the grip on her holstered DC-15s in its shoulder harness under her vest. It seemed some sort of understanding had come out of the discussion between the freighter captain and the grizzled fella as the older man walked back to his previous spot on the wall, then Dyll waved her over to their table almost in a giddy state of mind. It was a bit endearing actually.

Eliza listened to what he had to say, a dark brown eyebrow quirking up when her cut of the fee for services was shared. That would be half-way to her needed funds to get the Corellian Dawn out of from under CorSec impoundment. The Corellisi didn't have to think about the new proposition long. The petite smuggler just grinned and offered her hand to shake on the deal.

"Well now… That's an offer I can't refuse. Seems you've got yourself a partner!"

@[member="Dirk Ellerden "]@[member="Dyllaefi Cridu"]
 
Dyll clasped Steele's hand and gave it a loose, eager shake, smiling widely at his new partner. "Glad to hear it! It'll be good to have some company. Anything you need to grab on-planet? I'd like to iron out the details real quick and then haul jets out of here; I'm ready for open skies." Leaning back, Dyll turned toward the bar. "Hey! Another round for my friends here," he said, sweeping out a hand to indicate Eliza and then beckon Ellerden back over to their table. Kriff, but things were looking up for once! The company of a lovely and competent lady on a legit run that paid well; when did he ever, ever have it that good? There was nothing, he swore, in this whole sewer of a system that could ruin his...

The rest of his thoughts whizzed from his mind like helium from an untied balloon as a strong hand grabbed the back of his head and smashed his face into the tabletop. "Rumor's true, boys! Cridu here's gone legit, and he's got a couple of lawmen in here with 'im! Kill 'em all!" Throwing up one hand, Dyll struck the arm holding him in the elbow and then rolled off of the table as it buckled. Hitting the ground, one hand on his blaster, he stared up at the thug who'd spoken: a tall, brawny Chiss covered in tattoos. Thalassian tattoos. The smuggler swore as he tugged his blaster from its holster; he should've noticed that long ago. This was where dropping his guard, even for a moment, landed him.

Meanwhile, the menacing silence was broken as the bar erupted into chaos. Nasty-looking sentients, Grans and Rodians and Klatooinians and Humans and Zabraks from the roughest parts of the Vertical City, went for vibroknives and blasters or picked up mugs and barstools, shouting curses and battle cries as they closed in on Dirk, Dyll, and Eliza. The Chiss who'd come after Dyll first went for his gun; reflex snapped the barrel of the smuggler's own gun into position and closed his finger around the trigger, drilling two neat holes through the thug and sending him smoking to the floor. "If you're gonna shoot," Dyll muttered at the corpse, "shoot. Don't talk." Then he sprang to his feet.

This was not what he'd hoped to introduce Steele to; he didn't doubt that she could handle herself, but dragging his new partner into a particularly savage bar brawl didn't seem like the best way to convince her that working with him was a good idea. But Dyll knew he'd used up his fair share of good fortune that day. Now all he could do was roll with the punches, literally and figuratively. A Rodian came at him with a vibroknife, swinging wildly; the smuggler kicked him in the jewels and drove his fist into the side of his head, then ducked beneath the chair an enraged Houk had thrown his way. "Time to go," Dyll shouted to Steele. "Cover my back, I'll cover yours. Ellerden, let's move!"

Despite the desperation of the situation, Dyll's good mood wasn't entirely gone. "You'll have to put this one on my tab," he called to the cowering bartender, even as he headbutted a Weequay swinging a mug at him. Then, a little more subdued, he called over his shoulder to Eliza. "Really sorry about this. It isn't normally... well, it doesn't often... well, I'm sorry you got caught up in it."

@[member=Eliza Steele] @[member=Dirk Ellerden]
 

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