Rush

[Delilah Keyes]

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Rush​

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​Kwenn Space Station​

Midrim​

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​She'd gambled and lost.

Sure, Del still had information she could sell, but without it's counter weight, she'd only recoup her initial investment plus some pocket change when it was all over. Didn't recoup the time and energy spent on the whole damned project. Definitely didn't make up for threats on her life (whatever he'd tried to call them, that's what they had been. He was either a liar or incredibly naïve that words had meaning beyond how they existed in his mind). Someone looking in from the outside might have said she'd broken even- an optimist might even call it a small win.

As far as Delilah was concerned however, you either won or you lost. There was very little middle ground.

She didn't wallow in it, however. Gamble. Lose. Move on. Rinse and repeat.

But in between bigger plans, she still had to pay the bills.

Unlike her last series of jobs, Del was dressed now to blend in. Lower middle class, not too high to draw attention from below, and not too low as to cause revulsion from the middle. Black hat, leather jacket over a tank top, leggings and boots, she walked confidently through the station. Casual, eyes moving in sweeps, she knew the station well enough to take the corridors with ease. She didn't have to pretend she belonged there. Del belonged everywhere.

She'd been directed to dock farther from her meeting location than she would have liked, her ship Far Horizon on the other side of the station. That was the only thing that she filed under 'concern'. If things went south, getting back to her ship was going to be a doozy. Doable, but potentially messy. The blaster pistol was a comfortable weight at the small of her back beneath the jacket, and the knife in her boot was a certain insurance, but she preferred to use those only as a last resort.

Of course, this meeting should go perfectly smoothly. Pass along a name, a code phrase, get paid. Easy as pie.

She had a description of her contact, what he'd be wearing and where he would be. No guess work, no pass phrases the other person could potentially forget. Clean. Simple.

Of course, those were the kinds of plans that could go wrong the hardest.

| [member="Walker Ducote"] |​

 

[Delaney Wilder]

K W E N N S P A C E S T A T I O N​

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The first time pulling a job is kinda like popping the cherry.

You are anxious, afraid you will be doing all the wrong things, scared they might laugh, your palms are sweaty, and by and large it's over way sooner than you first expected.

It was no different for Walker Ducote on his first day as a professional smuggler.

The first months after the fall of Mandalore Walker had simply been traveling back and forth, using the cache of credits and rations stolen to survive, while wondering what he really wanted to do with his life. It was after hearing a Rodian boasting about the big money he was hauling in by smuggling glitterstim through something called the Death Wind Corridor. With just about half of his cash gone, Walker knew that there would come a time that he'd need to get a job.

Mercenary work wasn't for him, an honest job hauling ice across the Outer Rim didn't taste too well and spending his time fixing up other people's ships seemed crappy.

The next week the rest of his savings were invested in a cargo haul filled with Ryll.

Now Walker was on Kwenn Space Station.

His buyer would approach him within the next half an hour - a woman, relatively tall for a female, bronze skin and brown hair, that was the contact details he had been given. The corridor was relatively busy: people of all kinds of species bustling back and forth, while he was sitting on his little tug lifter.

It had four containers and Walker was keenly aware that he was literally sitting on a fortune.

You could forgive him for a few sweat beads clinging to his temple.

Out from the corner of his eye the smuggler could just about notice a new face. She moved deliberately, moved slowly and calmly through the crowd, weaving back and forth.

The description matched.

Walker exhaled softly and rubbed at his collar.

Showtime.

[member="Delilah Keyes"]

 

[Delilah Keyes]

Nothing that seemed simple ever actually was.

Which was really a shame. Because when Delilah caught sight of [member="Walker Ducote"], the fact that their eyes met and he matched the description of her contact seemed really simple. Perhaps delightfully so. She made a slow arc through the crowd, in his general direction, rather than a perfect line that would have drawn unwanted attention.

Of course, he was already being watched.

She noticed them two steps before she reached him. Station security, pretending to be casual but clearly headed in their direction. There for him? For her? Was the entire situation going tits up before they even made point of contact? And if that was the case, had sending her here been a set up?

As she closed the gap, her mind flickered over her recent encounters. Had she pissed anyone off recently, besides Harrison? This didn't seem his style after all. She didn't think so, but then, that didn't mean it had to have been something recent.

She stepped up to Walker, smooth as silk, linking her arm into his. The smile she offered him, too familiar, too intimate by half.

"Andre, darling, you promised you'd take me for a ride. Don't tell me you forgot?"

Dark eyes flicked, for only an instant, over his shoulder before back to his face, and then meaningfully off at a forty five degree angle.

If they headed away now, she'd be able to tell if they were actually headed toward them or not, and adjust the plan accordingly. Her contact was supposed to be a savvy enough individual, doing the kind of work they both did, and she expected him to respond immediately in kind.

Of course, he was not her contact.

 

[Delaney Wilder]

She was really attractive.

If Walker could slap himself across the head, he would, because getting enamored with a drug-addict wanting about four big caches of glitterstim wasn't really the way to go around the romance wheel. Then she was here, her scent forcing itself up his nostrils, her smile filling his eyes and for a moment... the lad just sighed softly to himself. If this moment could last forever, it would have been practically the Manda for him.

"Andre, darling, you promised you'd take me for a ride. Don't tell me you forgot?"

Ducote blinked as he felt her delicate arm curl around his - wait, she is way stronger than she looks - and the words washed over him in confusion. Who was Andre? Why did he offer her a ride? How could he ever forget her? And was there the option to replace this Andre for a night or two?

"I would never, sweetie," Walker offered without considering any other option. Maybe he just had one of those faces... maybe this was his lucky moment? "But what of the luggage?"

A meaningful glance was spared to the containers he had been leaning on.

That same glance brushed past the containers and finally noticed what Del was linking to. At first they just seemed like regulars, until his 'training' (if you could call it that) kicked in. He could almost hear the dry and coarse voice of his mother snapping through his head, forcing his attention to the calls. The distracted angles of their knees as they shifted from loose to firm, trying to decide if they would jump now, or wait longer. The shifty eyes, back and forth, back and forth, from the corridor, to themselves and then back to Walk and his new lady-friend.

Kark.

"On the other hand the luggage can wait, let's go." The moment he pushed off he pulled her with him into the crowd.

 

[Delilah Keyes]

Cute and not a moron. She appreciated both those things. Though she did give him a briefly blank look when he mentioned the luggage. The look that, for a half a heartbeat said 'who the kark cares about the luggage'- she had no idea he was literally sitting on a wealth of drugs. Just as neither of them had any idea that this was not their actual contact.

Halfway across the station, two others who, if put side by side, did not particularly resemble this pair beyond broad strokes, came together, realized immediately their mistake, and moved on. But that story is unimportant and, ultimately, uninteresting.

Of course, she wasn't expecting him to grab her hand and *drag* her into the crowd. A pained expression flickered across her face because the sudden exit was as good at admitting guilt. If the trio of security guards hadn't been for them before, now their attention was certain piqued.

Dude needed a lesson in 'Casual.'

She caught up to him in three easy steps. The kath hound was out of the bag, and by the sound of heavy boot falls and the chorus of disgruntled 'heys' behind them, she didn't need to look back to know they were being followed.

Today just got better and better.

A repulsor sled, piled high with crates, started to slide in front of them. Without hesitating, Del pushed forward. Hoping up and balancing lightly between two crates, she didn't let go of his hand, pulling him up behind her.

"Hey! You there! Stop!"

And there it was.

She pivoted, tipped her hat at the security guards as they went to draw on them. One booted foot lashed out, kicking the bottom crate. Everything above it went toppling down toward the men following them, sending people scurrying back to avoid being hit and giving them an opening to hop down on the other side and *book it*.

The confusion behind them would give them a bit of breathing room.

[member="Walker Ducote"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

Walker was noticeably less graceful in his approach.

For one, he hadn't been expecting the sudden appearance of the repulsor sled filled to the roof with containers or the lady vaulting over them like she was some kind of gorram gymnastics champion. Neither had he been expecting her to pull him along this time around, instead of quickly slipping around it, gravity and the strong pull of her hand forced him to adapt. With a firm push off the floor he angled his body sideways, letting his hands graze the upper-most container and follow her vaulting over the baggage.

It was a good thing Del was busy covering their exit, because it meant she didn't see how Walker slipped, falling on his face mid-landing on the floor.

Oef. Air forced itself out of his lungs through impact, but if there was one good thing about Mandalorian training... it was that this looked like a walk down the park instead.

So, while she had this and showmanship'ed it out of the park, Walker recovered enough to get back to his feet.

Who the hell is this lady? At this point Walker couldn't decide, if he was lucky or not. They booked it two seconds after, rounding one corner and then another, before going down the corridor. Less people here and they seemed less willing to pry about things that didn't concern them.

The shouts of the security guards dissipated for now, but he was sure they'd be back soon enough.

"Okay. Okay," Feck. "We are good for now, but we need our luggage back."

Our because if she wanted her glitterstim, then they'd need the gorram luggage. From the depths of his pockets he got out some flimsiplast. He pushed it over to her side-

"Hangar bay 3.3.7, that's where our exit is. We split up now and meet each other there again."

 

[Delilah Keyes]

She was barely winded when they came to a pause, though her hat was askew. She flicked it back into place absently with thumb and forefinger, giving him a more prolonged version of the blank look he'd received for only a heartbeat before. Her fingers were already closing reflexively around the chit as he pressed it into her hand.

"What? Look, I just need to tell you-"

"3.3.7.!"

"Aaaaaand he's gone," she muttered as he disappeared around the next corner. She let out a small puff of air, forced upward from her lips, pushing the hair out of her eye. Not that he could see the 'are you karking kidding me' look she was leveling at his back. The sound of booted feet once more hitting the deck however meant that she had more pressing concerns.

Well, whatever he had to go back for ("ours?"), he'd need them off of his tail long enough to manage it.

For a moment, she almost just made tracks back to her own ship. Ditch the hat, the jacket, drop hair into her face, she'd make it back just fine. After all, she wasn't actually being paid enough for this nonsense.

On the other hand.....

A smirk curved over her face as she waited a beat, two, one-

"That's her!"

With a grin, a cheerful wave and a chirruped "Hey boys!", Del went sprinting down the corridor opposite the one [member="Walker Ducote"] had headed down. The smirk turned into a full fledged smile as she vaulted over a the shoulders of a man bending to tie his shoes.

On the other hand, Del *had* been pretty bored lately.

 

[Delaney Wilder]

The station was large, but luckily they hadn't sped off too far from the luggage.

Would have been impossible otherwise to track it back down.

All these corridors looked alike after all. Walker turned another corner and was passing through a corridor that seemed to double as one of the little commercial zones spread through the station. Small stalls were arrayed across the walls, sentients shouting offers for their merchandise and trying to get the attention of passer-byers. But Walker ignored them all - the one offering the (clearly) less than core-legal weapon mods under the legal scopes, the food steaming on their plates, the pretty fabrics being displayed royally. There was much to see, but Walker didn't have any time for that.

Because two seconds later he could already see the nook he had been sitting at just a few minutes ago. Two guards were standing next to it, clearly waiting for the others to return with him and the pretty lady in tow.

"Feth." Walker had a clear modus operandi and it went as followed: avoid risking your skin and freedom no matter what. "Feth, feth, feth."

Here was the problem.

That was literally all his credits personified in small, translucent packages of sniffable chemicals. If he bugged out on this, then Walker wouldn't be able to pay-out anything. Ducote frowned, scratching at his chin, while trying to find a third option. Away from running or crashing into that party head-on.

An opportunity presented itself once Walker noticed the two construction droids deactivated down the corridor.

His smirk shifted into a broad-grinned smile as a plan started to formulate itself. The servodriver was already unattached from his belt, calloused fingers brushing against the worn metal.

 

[Delilah Keyes]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2rVnRwW0h8[/media]​

I think it's time to blow this scene, get everybody and their stuff together. Okay three, two, one-

Behind her, the security guards tripped over the kneeling man and she was off, a smile on her face and a glint in those dark eyes. She didn't need to get away from them, just needed to keep them busy long enough for her contact to get his cute rear end in gear and whatever the kark he had to pick up back to his ship. So she didn't simply run.

She made a chase scene.

Treating other people like paddles on a ping pong table, she ricocheted through the hallways. A stack of crates? A perfect ladder, only to be kicked off from on the other side and scattering through the hall. A lumbering wookiee? She dropped, skidding between its legs feet first, only to pop up immediately on the other side. A girder, carried by two hulking humanoids? A running leap took her up, turning backward to tap across it and then down again, a thrown kiss at her pursuers as they scrambled to figure out if they should go over, under, around- and ultimately ending up in a tangle of limbs. She landed lightly, hands reaching to flare out a passerby's cloak to blot out the hallway as she ducked past them, just as one of the finally decided to fire a shot at her. The fact that it scorched a little too close for comfort, the thick leather of her jacket the only thing between her and burnt flesh?

Maybe now it was time to double back.

Around a corner, and Del took in the scene. Hand snaked out, drawing the hat from her head and winging it down the hallway before ducking into the nearest shop. Pressed against the wall inside of the door, now she was breathing hard, still smiling, but it was a good reminder to her that she'd let the sedate pace of the last few months dictate too much.

Security came careening around the corner a moment later, just in time to see the hat disappear back into the crowd, as though finally knocked from her head several meters ahead of them. They shouted, boots to the floor, and went charging past.

With a smirk and a murmured "Thanks for the fun boys," she slipped back out and headed back the way she'd come, humming contentedly to herself.

3.3.7. he'd said.

[member="Walker Ducote"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

And 3.3.7. it was.

By the time Delilah rounded back, followed the corridors and signs towards 3.3.7. Walker was already back at the hangar with his tug in tow. It had been a complete mess, but in the best possible way- two lumbering construction droids out of control, bumping into people as their targeting module 'malfunctioned' and they friend-or-foe distinction got out of whack.

No casualties, of course, Walker despised violence.

It reminded him too much of his family and that was the last thing he wanted to associate himself with.

By the time the security guards had the situation under control and turned around, the luggage they had been keeping an eye on had already disappeared and with them the man pushing it along.

An elegant solution, if he said so himself.

There wasn't anyone in the hangar waiting on him. This told him a single thing: it wasn't my fault. Because if it had been his fault, they would have put people around his ship. Just for the possibility that he'd escape their first wave of guards. At least, that's what Walker would have done, if he had been in their shoes. But did that mean the pretty lady was at fault here?

So professional and competent... Walker doubted it.

What had gone wrong?

Already the tug with the luggage was pushing itself up the rampart of the open starship. Excruciatingly slow, but the purpose had been to fit in and to get a model that wouldn't break down on him mid-opportunity.

"Feth, get on with it." Walker mumbled to himself.

 

[Delilah Keyes]

It was a shame about the hat, she mused as she moved through the corridors, doing her best to remain inconspicuous as she went.

She liked that hat.

Del turned the corner at the same time as a pair of security guards turned the opposite corner down the hall. The words 'three three seven' floated down to her before they stopped talking. There was a pause as both parties took each other in....

Now, Delilah *did* run. Full, flat out sprint that started a moment before the pair collected themselves and went for their blasters. She didn't know why they had a hard-on for her contact, but it was time to get out of dodge. Hopefully he was ready to go. With a twinge that was mostly unrelated to the woooong of a stun blast filling the air above her shoulder as she skidded around the corner into the hangar, going so fast she had to actually touch the ground or risk tumbling ass over tea kettle- she realized she'd have to come back for her own ship when things cooled down a bit.

Ugh.

Booted feet regained their purchase as she careened around the corner. She was paying enough attention to see the look on [member="Walker Ducote"]'s face as she came sprinting toward him.

"Time to go!"

 

[Delaney Wilder]

If there were Gods of the repulsor sleds then hopefully Walker's prayers were reaching them.

They weren't made for this crap, no, they were build to slowly follow you around while carrying roughly six times their weight without complaint. Stalwart, diligent, unflinching in their resolve, but oh so exhaustingly slow in this exact moment. Walker could practically hear the hum of the little anti-gravity coils zooming as they worked to counter the artificial grav of the station.

Just as Del ran into the hangar, the edge of the sled scrapped against the hull of the ship.

His ship. The Daystar; a regular old beauty that was absolutely amazing to handle out there in the cold vacuum of space.

"Don't need to tell me twice!" Walker shouted back, before running up the ramp and into the cargo room of the ship. His fist slammed into controls, causing the ramp to slowly retract the moment her feet touched the floor. "Stay here, make sure we ain't got no stragglers, aye?"

Wasn't really a question because once again Ducote was off.

Bouncing from corridor to corridor, up the metal stairs and into the cockpit. The ship wasn't slaved, but the moment he dropper himself into the pilot chair - felt the leather against his skin, the controls lighting up under the tips of his fingers?

He knew he was home.

The engines roared into existence as the reactor woke up and started funneling fire into their bellies.

The dull sounds of blasters dashing against the hull could be overheard, if feintly, but Walker wasn't worried. What were the chances that those maniacs would have access to anti-starship weaponry at this point?

Probably not a good thing to think about under the circumstances...

 

[Delilah Keyes]

'Stay here.'

Gods, she hated that.

Even before his rear disappeared up the ladder, Del had drawn the blaster from the small of her back. She had no particular aversion to violence, but there was no need for anything more than a couple of shots laid down along the floor to keep them from coming farther into the hangar bay than they were strictly welcome. She wouldn't hesitate to hurt someone if that was the best option, but if there were other choices? Well, leaving a trail of bodies was *not* on her list of things to do in order to avoid entanglement with law enforcement.

She had to duck once, when one of them managed to get his wits about him long enough to get off a shot just before the ramp closed. And then the rumble of the ship filled her core and they were away.

Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she shook her head and reholstered the blaster. She shrugged out of her jacket, checking the shoulder and noting the burn in the leather with a grimace. Hat. Jacket. She better be able to get her ship back or this would have been even less worthwhile than that trip to Nubia had been.

So. What had been so important that he had to go back for the "luggage," eh?

When [member="Walker Ducote"] came back down to the cargo hold, he'd find her lounging casually against the containers. She regarded him with those dark, fathomless eyes. He didn't *look* like a glit bitter, but then, that didn't mean much. Maybe he didn't sample his own wares, she tried not to judge. Still though, it was a shame. Del was used to working with drug dealers and even addicts, but he dropped several notches in her estimation for it. Made him untrustworthy- the things people would do for want of spice, or for the money that came with it, well, nothing to be done about it.

"Well. Now that's out of the way," she drawled, but the smile from earlier was no where in evidence.

"If the station is tracking you, I understand if you can't bring me back around to my ship. If you don't mind dropping me somewhere I can get transport back, well, I'd appreciate it...."

She noted the slightly queer look on his face and reached up, lightly bapping herself on the forehead with her open palm.

"Sorry. Forgot in the hubbub. You'll find what you need from 'Josef Blackmore,' at his club on Nubia. The pass phrase is 'Sapphire Court,' but only through the end of the month, so you'd better hurry."

The look didn't fade. If anything it intensified.

 

[Delaney Wilder]

[member="Delilah Keyes"]

Good Manda, her... everything.

Lost during the 'hubbub' the upper-slam against his chin came back full-force. But he managed to rip away the quick gray flash from her... shoes, yes, and back towards those eyes. There was still noticeable confusion left in the wake of her explanation, almost as if he had no clue what she was babbling about right now.

Which, in fact, was the case here.

"Plenty things I need, lady, but it ain't no Josef Blackmore." His chin jerked towards the containers she was leaning against. "Assume you had time to check out the wares already. All there, good quality, no crap mixed into it."

That's what he had been told anyway.

Walker didn't touch the stuff, slippery slope right there. Started out with some in the evening and before you knew it you ended up in the 'Shaddian gutter with alien tool in your mouth, hoping it would get you a few bucks to spend.

No thank you.

"I already switched out the transponders, but I will need a couple of days- change the 'paint', switch around some of the armament." A shrug of the shoulders. "Can drop you off wherever, if you don't want to wait on that."

 

[Delilah Keyes]

"The goods- oh, absolutely not. I don't trade in-"

Pause.

Alright, something was not adding up at all.

The annoyance and incredulity in her voice when she spoke again could not be under stated. Only some of it was truly aimed at him. Some, at herself. But mostly, it was aimed at the Di'kut shabuir that had actually karked up the meet up. She wasn't sure if she meant her intended contact, her employer or both. She'd sort that out later.

"You don't know Sonny the Bantha, do you."

It wasn't a question.

She leaned back against the canisters, tilting her head back and making an aggravated ugh deep in her throat.

And then, surprisingly enough, she started laughing. It wasn't a particularly mirthful laugh. It was the laugh of black humor, of gallows humor. Of realizing just how epically one has karked up their own situation. She leaned forward, hands on her knees and she chuckled between words.

"My contact- my actual contact- is still on the station. Probably getting arrested because, apparently, you look just like each other! And they are going to think that I sold them out. Oh this day just gets better and better."

It wasn't actually even a little bit funny.

[member="Walker Ducote"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

Walker blinked.

Blinked again.

Then blinked a third time just for good measure.

"And you don't know Fredo the Nuna then." Perfect, that was just absolutely perfect, it meant that his contact was also still on the station. Presumably also being arrested, because she looked similar to the lady in front of him.

This was bad.

Very bad, because for one he had a gorram fortune in glitterstim with no buyer, but also because they would make the same assumption about him.

That they had been arrested, because he sold them out.

"We are karked." Walker finally said once silence brushed in the wake of her beautiful laugh. "I assume Sonny the Bantha isn't as peace-loving and gentle as a Bantha."

Dry remark as his mind raced.

What was the next step here? What could Walker do to turn this from a disaster into at least a partial win, where he didn't wake up from someone trying to cut his throat. That was most definitely not part of the four-step plan to get rich and die in opulance.

Preferably at the ripe old age of 80 surrounded by beautiful women.

 

[Delilah Keyes]

She practically giggled, shaking her head as she answered promptly.

"No, named for his smell."

Oh gods, why couldn't she stop *laughing*?

Eventually she did manage, wiping at her eyes and letting out a final, hoooooo boy under her breath before leaning back against the canisters again.

Right now, she didn't even know if they would make it through the week, let alone if she'd manage to get her ship back. For all she knew, they'd be waiting for her there by the time the events at the space port had died down enough to return for it. As much as she liked the ship, that wasn't a risk she could take.

Crossing her arms over her chest, dark eyes traveled up and down [member="Walker Ducote"].

"Any chance you can return the spice and they won't make a fuss?" She asked, not really feeling particularly optimistic about that. Even if he suddenly perked up and said 'yes they will!', she was still up osik creek without a paddle.

Her mind was turning, trying to sort it out, trying to find a way out.

She'd figure it out. She always did.

 

[Delaney Wilder]

Disappear.

Try to unload the spice on some unsuspecting di'kut for half the price and run.

The credits would keep him afloat for a while, help him disappear for a few months - oh, who was he kidding, Fredo would be hunting him until the end of days and it's a gorram Hutt. A young one too, so they'd probably still be looking for him long after he was under the dirt.

So, what options were there, really?

"What? No, definitely not." Shake of the head followed for good measure. "He ain't called that 'cus he allergic for violence- Fredo the Nuna enjoys putting one of 'em birds on your belly with a pot over it. Heat it up on the other side and watch as the otherwise harmless thing eats through ya, just to get away from the heat." Just recounting that made him sweat and pull at his collar a bit more.

He settled down on one of the other crates- just fresh produce, the cover if they tried to board his ship and ask him what he was doing.

In the end they could stew on a plan for ages, but there needed to be auction now.

Otherwise they were rightly fethed. "Whatever we do, I need to make sure those fethers don't recognize the ship." That would be a freaking mess, because there weren't that many prototype, oversized D5s running around these days.

But there were a couple of tricks up his sleeve.

"Where do you want me to drop you off?"

As far as Walker was concerned, this lady wasn't a buyer and although Del was beautiful... not beautiful enough to risk his neck on her. It would be enough to be hunted by one homicidal crime lord.

Much less two.

 

[Delilah Keyes]

"Huh."

She blinked. Well, that explained that.

"And things like that are why I don't do business with the Hutts."

Del arched an eyebrow at the 'we', the words 'what's this we chit, you got a mouse in your pocket?' on the tip of her tongue before he remedied the statement.

Nar Kreeta was near by and she had contacts there who could get her back to the station, or, more likely for now, somewhere closer to actual home. Going straight to Velusia after this was right out- the one thing that kept her safe was that none of the criminals she took work from knew where she lived, and she aimed to keep it that way. She'd take the trip home in stages.

That didn't solve the problem of what now, however. She'd have to lay low for a while, maybe try to find a way to clear herself with Sonny. He wasn't a particularly powerful connection in the underworld, but he had surprising reach, and that made him dangerous.

The problem with laying low was that she couldn't *afford* to. She'd been expecting a big fat pay out from the last plan, and that hadn't worked out. She definitely wasn't getting paid for this *and* she'd lost her ship. And her hat. Hopefully the former was a temporary loss, but she couldn't bank on it, not right now.

She knew of someone who would help her out in a pinch, but was loath to go knocking on *that* door without good reason.

Chit.

And then a thought.

"Well," she said slowly, the plan forming in her head out of the background noise as everything clicked together. "The closest places for you to refit are, if not hutt controlled, definitely influenced. But what if I told you I have the contacts to get you that refit under their noses *and* unload your spice at pretty close to market rate?"

Altruism? Absolutely not. She intended to profit too.

[member="Walker Ducote"]

 

[Delaney Wilder]

Yeah, she didn't need to say that again.

Who the kark put Nunas on people's stomachs so they would eat through them as an execution method? The Mandalorian in him shook his head at the inefficiency, before being shooed away by good old fashion common sense. Which was the following: blood was a nasty business and once you started killing, you wouldn't ever end. See, Walker didn't have any... moral issues with killing - his departure from the Clans hadn't been about good or bad.

Not even about right or wrong.

Just simply about the realization that he wasn't a killer. His hands shook, the scent made him want to retch, the taste made him pass out and there wasn't a situation yet that he hadn't been able to resolve with a few words.

Well, until the Nuna came around.

"If you told me that, I would most likely acknowledge that I find myself in a difficult situation." His head cocked slightly, as he studied the lady in front of him. "But experience tells me that the rescue is never free, so what angle are you playing here?"

Probably a cut.

Depending on the size of the cut Walker wouldn't mind sharing it about, especially considering he wouldn't be paying back Nuna now anyway, so his size had just about... tripled just because of that.