Please Don't Break Anything

[Lora Rhodes]

They were diving? Today? Lora slowly stands and moves a few paces away, gaze running over the jumpsuits he had stationed nearby. Her body still ached from today's run with her previous company, and she still had her doubts about this sorry piece of a ship. But if she wanted even a chance at some good credits, she had to stay.

Lora sighs and runs a hand through her hair, glancing towards the Mandalorian in the corner. She'd never needed any sort of backup before. The few beasts and lava fleas she'd encountered she had..somehow been able to manage on her own. Which meant they had to be headed for some sort of invested area to need the extra manpower. The miner finds a spot near the 'table' and folds her arms over her chest, trying to get comfortable for the ride. She bit her lower lip, knowing then ext thing that would likely leave her mouth was bound to be further complaints.

Come on, Rhodes. Just a few more hours and you'll have your pay. Don't get fired before you make the jump.

Lora glances over towards Aranov as he's addressed, curiously going over his armor and weaponry. She hadn't seen someone so geared before, nor fired any sort of rifle for herself. It made her want to know more, to question how in the world this Mando ended up working on Mustafar. Clearly, he was desperate. Mustafar wasn't the best place for work, let alone the number one vacation spot in this portion of the galaxy. It was musty, it was dirty, and it was hot.

She couldn't really stand it any longer, and her curiousity got the better of her. Lora waves her helmet towards Aranov, brows raised.

"....why are you here?"

[member="Ein Harper"] [member="Aranov Alore"]

 

[xAcheron]

The Mandalorian's buy'ce, which was his helmet, sat on the second shelf in his weapons locker. It was not something he cared to wear often but the high heat levels were not good for his cybernetic eye. They tended to throw off his sensors after being exposed for too long. As he sat down in a small chair near his locker he pulled a small blaster pistol from under his cloak.

As he fiddled with the weapon he felt eyes on him. Not after long the staring of the diver caused him to be slightly annoyed, of course he did not say anything, he simply continued to fiddle with his weapon. When he heard the woman's blunt question he answered but made no attempt to look at the woman. "My job is to keep the beasties off your shebs. You do the diving, they do the dying." After a moment of tinkering with the trigger Aranov aimed the weapon and smiled softly. "Aay'aan" 'Perfect..'