Put It On My Tab, Bartender

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

Nei brought her glass to her lips, momentarily forgetting what the liquid inside was. One painful swallow and a stifled cough later, and she remembered. At Joran's question, she nodded. "That be my thought! But people, they always think I be paranoid. Morons." Looking back at him, Nei caught his smile and narrowed her eyes, scowling. She was about to reprimand him on smiling at her when she was appeased by his own reaction to the drink.

Smirking slightly, she asked, "So, family? Crew? Or you be a loner?"

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

“Pays in our line of work to be a bit paranoid, dunnit?” he raised his glass in a sort of small toast to paranoia. He finished off his glass with a shiver and poured himself another. The bottle was quickly half gone and Nei hadn’t even finished her first glass. At this rate he would have to buy another bottle.

“Aye, I, got family, some where.” As far as he knew, his dad was still alive and so were the rest of the once famed Del-Finn mercenary company. It’d been quite a few years since he had seen any of them and the last time he saw his father, things hadn’t gone particularly well.

Then there was Selonna. His wife. It had been a decade and a half since she left, taking their daughter and disappearing. Fucking queen. She ruined his life she did. He thought of her and his blood boiled. How could she do that to him? How could she love him and just leave, they were married, they made vows! By the force was he getting drunk.

He took another drink, trying to force away thoughts of Selonna and his failures. He would focus instead, on the girl he was here with now. Not some woman long gone and beyond his reach.

“No crew, had a partner once, when I first started. He got out a long time ago. I, work alone, but I wouldn’t call myself, a loner. We are here together, after all. What about you, Love? What ever happened to that sister of yours?”

 

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

"Nei."

The Nautolan had her head tilted slightly, curious. Her tresses were curling gently as she picked up bitter resentment and scorn. Someone had certainly broken Joran's heart in the past.

"And we be here because you beat me in a match. Si'hklesi foh." She shook her head, drumming her fingers on the table. "And my sister be dead. Died in another shootout -- that mobster? Wanted revenge, so..." Nei made a quick gesture across her neck, accenting it with a crick noise. "They all be dead, 'cept me. Dunno 'bout my parents, haven't seen them. Don't have a droid; don't trust one to be on my ship. No crew, either. Just lil ol' me."

Nei didn't know if it was the fact that the catsblood was way out of her usual liquor league or what, but was certainly more talkative than normal.

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

“Fuck, droids.” he concurred. “Sorry to hear bout, your sister, Love.” He raised his glass to her “ Ni Su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.” it was a saying in Mando’a, used to honor the dead. he finished the prayer in his head, with the names of those he loved most.

Boy this drink was turning him into a little girl.

“So, the Ravens? How did you hook up with them?”

 

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

Nei tilted her head, listening to the foreign words. Or maybe not so foreign; they sounded...familiar. As if from a long time ago. Hmm...

Of course, she didn't dwell on it too long. "Bah, I be sitting in a cantina when some schmuck tells me I caught the eye of the Ravens. The good eye, mind you." She shrugged. "So, I join. Figured protection and benefits be good, and jobs be better." The Nautolan smirked. "It certainly be exciting."

She eyed Joran, the smirk still on her face. "Why you join, hm? Figured it be safer for you, or what? Considering Ravens killing Ravens is a no-no."

Why yes, she was bringing up the casino again.

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

He returned her smirk with one of his own.

“I’ve joined nothing. Even if I had, it wouldn’t be so you wouldn’t kill me. Nothing is off limits. that’s why we live the lives we live, innit?”

Everyone had some kind of code. Some set of morals that weighed them down. Madalorians, JedI, even Sith, they all had their own set of rules and structure. Not them, not Joran, not Nei and not any one like them. Sure some had their own personal limits, but at the end of the day, they did what made them happy. They were free, limits and boundaries were for those not strong enough to handle true freedom and the price it came with.

 

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

Nei curled her tresses in the Nautolan version of an eye roll. "Who said anything about me killing you? I just say you need protection, is all."

Of course, he did have a point. There was more to their jobs than simply moving things illegally. Smuggling gave one a freedom which few people could truly experience. Smuggling was pure, unabashed, sweet chaos which demanded its participants to keep on their toes, a blaster in hand and eyes peeled. And those that worked independently could make their own rules, follow their own code. Or, follow none at all.

But, living the life of a smuggler wasn't always as sparkly as the holodramas made it out to be.

The server droid came up, and Nei ordered a glass of spiced Corellian ale. The catsblood was make her head feel funny and she didn't like it.

After placing her order, however, she turned back to Joran, swinging her legs off the seat and under the table. "That be true, but sometimes even freedom comes at a price, no?"

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

“I, don’t need, Ravens for protection.” he patted his jacket, signifying the blaster he kept tucked inside.

“Pain, is the price we pay.”

He sounded almost bored as he said it, those words had come out of his mouth a thousand different times to those he trained. To the golden skinned Zabraki boy as the twelve year old cradled his cousins corpse. Joran had killed that boy, it was all apart of the training Valturla had set up. Live rounds, shoot to kill, teach those boys what hell was like, so they could get the job done.

He never apologized and he never grieved. He did what he was paid to do, no matter how dirty the job was.

“The only question is: what cost is too high?”

Joran finished off his glass and poured another.

 

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

"Bah! I not here to discuss morals with you, I be here to drink enough to forget my painful defeat." With that, Nei grabbed the newly-delivered ale she'd ordered and took a giant swig. Much better than that catsblood, she thought.

Truth was, she didn't feel like answering Joran's question. If she had to, though, her answer would be simple: killing folks who did nothing to her or to anyone she knew (and didn't despise). Killing people who qualified as innocents in her book was where the Nautolan drew the line. Did she have blood on her hands? Some, yes. But that didn't bother her, because it was from people who got on her bad side. No big deal.

Just because Nei liked to shoot people didn't mean she was a murderer. Well, not really.

Her mind began to wander away from that topic as she scrounged for another thing to talk about. After a moment, though, her tresses curled in defeat.

Taking another swig from her glass, she asked, "So, you be Mandalorian? Born to it or adopted in?"

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

“It was a rhetorical question, Love.” he chuckled softly. “if your tryin to do that, your gonna need a lot more to drink.”

“Born. Truth be told, I am no true Mando’ade. ‘Dar’manda’ is what they call me. By the look of your armor, one, might mistake you for Mando‘ade. But since you haven’t talked my ear off about glorious battle and some shit kicker rock, full of self righteous, over stimulated xenophobes, I‘m gonna wager your not. Was the design choice on purpose?”

 

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

Nei scowled, irritated that the question was one of those stupid so-called "rhetorical" ones. To her, those had no purpose in life and whoever invented them deserved to be shot -- preferrably by yours truly.

She also had no idea what a "Dar'manda" was, but from the way Joran spoke she probably had a good clue as to what it meant. When he questioned her about her armour choice, the Nautolan remained silent for a moment, formulating her response.

Taking a sip from her ale, she said, "My sister be -- was -- a Mando. Wanted me to be one, too. Tried to teach me stuff, but I didn't take too much to it. Too many things to remember." Nei shook her head, and gestured towards her armour. "She still make this for me, in case I finally decide to join. 'Course, it just be made from flex-armour. No beskar'gam for me, hah." She settled back in her seat, drinking again. "After she go, I was leery of wearing it without it being covered, but...As of yet I not be shot by a real Mando; at least, not for wearing armour. So I figure I be good, seein' as how I not be masquerading as one." Nei smirked. "That be the main thing, right? Don't impersonate one and you be good."

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

Silence sat between them for maybe a minute, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but Joran was never a fan of not hearing himself speak.

“You’re a smuggler, yeah? Heard you say, you was a deckhand, but what got you into smuggling?”

They all got into this business some way or another, and sometimes people had interesting stories, Joran wasn’t sure she would have one, but it was worth it to ask right?

 

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

Nei began to play with her shorter tress again in the silence, taking a moment to answer his question. "While I be working, a smuggler come up and offer me a job on his crew. I accepted, left home, and went from there." Her tone was gruff and matter-of-fact. Truthfully, there really wasn't much to it outside of that.

Besides, Nei didn't feel like pouring her heart out again. She'd done it once, with the story of why she always wore her armour, and she wasn't about to do it again. At least, not until she consumed so much alcohol that even she became as drunk as an Ewok during the Festival of Love. And that's drunk -- Nei had gone once, to see what it was all about. It was amusing, to say the least.

Taking a swig from her near-empty glass, the Nautolan eyed him. "What about you? How does a..." She used air quotes with her fingers to emphasize the word. " 'Dar'manda' become a smuggler? The two categories be directly related or what?"

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

“Nah, nothing like that. My da got me in the business. He showed up one day, hadn’t seen him for months mind you, and he comes in with this shit eating grin on his face, like he had just hit the jackpot or something, the idiot.”

Joran took a drink and poured what remained of the bottle in his glass. He was going to be good and sauced before this night was over.

“ and he tells my mum and me, ‘pack your things, were going to Hutta!’, my mum, the charming woman that she is tells him to ‘blow it out his ass.’” a big grin appeared on Joran’s face after that bit of information. That was one woman that never let him down, a real pain in the ass, but he loved her more than anyone else, well any one alive or that didn’t abandon him.

“I didn’t have the diplomacy my mother had, and me being a young man, I, wanted to see the galaxy. Make my own mark. So I, go with him, it turned out he had taken up employment with a fairly successful mid-level Hutt gangster. The slug, had a smuggler on pay roll already, but the man was close to calling it quits, so they partner me up with him, so I, can learn all I can and take over for him.”

“Not the most exciting story ever told. But we all start somewhere.”

 

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

Nei grunted. "At least one parent be accepting. I not talk to mine since I left." Her face scrunched up, and her voice became high-pitched and nasally. " 'Smuggling isn't something a proper Nautolan should do, young lady. It's illegal, for ocean's sake! Do you even know what smugglers do? Not to mention, you just met this captain! What if he's really a slaver? Or -- oh, I can't even stand to think about it! -- what if he's secretly a recruiter for the Sith?! Your father and I absolutely refuse to let you become a smuggler, Nei. Stay here, be something with a bit more...dignity!' "

The woman shook her head. That argument was still fresh in her mind, after all these years. Despite her parents' protests, she had stubbornly stuck with her decision, resulting in disownment and an unbroken silence. Sometimes, though, she wondered about them. About if they knew what their daughter had done, had seen. Whether or not they even knew if she was still alive.

If she had made a mistake by leaving.

No, she said to herself, letting out a barely audible growl. I did the right thing, and I don't regret a thing!

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

He laughed lightly at he impersonation. He knew family was a rough spot for a lot of people in their line of work. His own family situation was never ideal, an absent father, who demanded nothing short of obedience, he might have been Mandalore himself, with as high as Joran regarded the man in his youth. His mother, was a strong, smart and independent woman, who encouraged Joran to be the same. Truth be told, neither one of them had a problem with the choices Joran had made through his life, well not most of his choices anyway, but there was no need to step on her moment.

“Family.” Joran raised his glass and toasted with her.

 

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

"For better or worse," she grunted, toasting with him. Nei tossed back a swig, then studied Joran intently. The alcohol in her system was starting to do its job, especially since the server droid kept giving them refills.

The Nautolan struggled to think of something else to talk about that wouldn't make this whole thing seem like a date. Failing to do that, she then mulled over the previous topics, trying to decide which one could be reused.

Finally selecting a topic, she threw back another swig and growled, "So, why you reeeeaaaaally choose me? There be plenty of other women to woo in the Ravens. Why me? You looking to hire me? Rob me? One-up me?" Nei jabbed a finger in his direction. "And don't give me that lame excuse from earlier."

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

Joran laughed out loud. “Woo you? Is that what I’m doing?” he tried to stifle, his laughter but he just couldn’t. the drinks and the absurdity of this tough nose alien girl, using a word like “woo” was just more than he could handle.

“Fuck, the ravens, Love, and their women. We are here right now, because you.” he pointed at her with two fingers. “you, you’re a smuggler, tried and true, just like me. I took thirty grand from associates of those, ravens and what do those asshats do, welcome me with open arms and a few questions. Not you. You, did what I would of done. Though, me personally, I would put a blaster bolt, between my eyes.”

Joran ordered another bottle of cats blood. He may not even make it out of this dive, tonight.

“So, how am I doing? Are you feeling wooed?” he smiled at her, full of drunken charm.

 

[Nei Laa]

[member="Joran Del-Finn"]

Nei slammed her fist on the table, a triumphant look on her face. "Nei. And I knew it! I knew you be a cheater!" She smirked and relaxed, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. At his following comment about the blaster bolt, though, she scowled. "I not be a murderer. Besides, you were unarmed. I not shoot unarmed people. No honour in that," she grumbled.

When Joran ordered another bottle of catsblood, she grimaced and took a swig from her newly filled ale. "I be about as wooed as a dead wampa on Tatooine." At least, that's what she thought. No one had really tried to woo Nei before. Flirt a bit, maybe. Check, some has even bought her drinks. But no one had full-on wooed her, and as such she didn't know what it was supposed to be.

She took another drink, watching Joran. He be drunk, she realized. And I be on my way there. Maybe I can make him pick up the tab. That would be nice.

 

[Joran Del-Finn]

[member="Nei Laa"]

“Cheater, is a harsh word, Love. I, prefer, good at cards.” The charm still poured out of him, more so now, that he was getting nice and drunk.

“you, know, where honor gets you, Love? It gets you dead.” he laughed. This attitude, was perhaps, why he did not fit with his Mandalorian brothers and sisters. Why his father stopped talking to him ages ago and why his mother looked at him the way she did sometimes. Fuck it. Better alive and alone, than dead.

But he wasn’t alone today. He laughed at he response. About as wooed as a dead wampa on Tattooine. Now that was a good one.

“Perfect, I, could not ask for you to be any more wooed.” he joked at her.

“It, comes to my attention, Love. That you…” he paused for a moment and fought off a rush of lightheadedness. “…You, still owe, me a drink.”